#I know I technically don’t have to finish them but I WANT to

[stvrgxsm]

afterglow | joel miller [5k]

“what am i then?” “you’re the only thing worth living for.” or joel is an asshole until he isn't.

c: smut mdni, 18+. angst. abandonment. miscommunication.

a/n: i figured i would put this out here again. please let me know what you loved and what you didn't! enjoy:)

the thing is, you really shouldn’t be surprised.

he is not yours; has never been, will never be. he is completely his own man, and he has never lied to you about that.

but sometimes, when his body curls into yours late at night, and you can feel his breath ghost over your neck– when he tucks his worn boots next to yours under the bed and smiles sheepishly when you point it out– when a woman glares at you and he pulls you closer– sometimes you pretend he’s yours.

of course, all these lovely moments are tempered by his perpetual frown. he always seems to troubled in spirit about something. 

today it was some FEDRA agent overstepping the law and facing no repercussions. yesterday it was tess being cagey about the dropoff for the smuggled contraband. 

joel miller is a bitter man. but sometimes he lets himself soften, and you cling to those moments like a raft in a torrential flood.

you hum as you cook dinner– it makes you feel a little better about life. these days it’s been a struggle to look forward to the next day, the next meal, the next shift. when everything in life just seems to propel your demise, nothing seems worth it.

hence the humming. 

joel isn’t home yet– probably won’t be for a while. he takes extra shifts whenever he can. you’ve learned by now to not expect him home by 5.

you haven’t lived together for very long. when tess started taking on bigger jobs, she insisted she needed a separate space. she got her own apartment, and you took the one she shared with joel. at first, he insisted on taking the couch and letting you have the bedroom, but then it became an issue of too little space. with joel sleeping in your only shared room, neither of you felt comfortable with the other. you fought about it.

after that you took the left side of the bed. 

it’s hard to believe you haven’t known him for that long. you’re a new addition to their team– it’s not longer just him and tess. you don’t join them on smuggling trips, but you like to think you make their lives easier with the soft things you provide for them. like your garden. or dinner.

the timer you set for the chicken dings, and you jump to pull it out of the oven. it’s beautifully cooked; the bread crumbs you’d spread on top had browned just how you wanted. you love this– the playing house. it allows you to feel like all those expensive cooking classes your parents paid for before the outbreak are finally worth something.

the meal is all prepared and set out. now it’s just the wait for joel. he’s usually home by 6:30, so you tell yourself you’ll wait until 6:45 to start eating. he’s told you time and time again not to wait for him.

you glance at the clock. 6:24. it’s not really time for him to be home yet, but it’s getting there. you eye the bottle of red that tess returned from the last trip to bill and frank’s with. you had wanted to share it with joel, but it’s getting late. surely one glass won’t hurt.

you’re tipsy, and the chicken is cold on the counter when you check the time again. 6:48. still not technically unusual. you finish your plate. 

the bottle is half-gone when you finally stumble into bed. your eyes catch the clock again. 8:35. you don’t even register it.

you wake to darkness.

for a moment you lie there, trying to remember why your head hurts so bad. then you remember– the chicken, the wine, joel.

you feel around next to you for his comforting warmth, but there’s nothing there. you sit up. he’s not there. you’re alone.

“joel?” you whisper into the empty apartment.

nothing.

you swing your legs out of bed and stand on unsteady legs. your head still hurts a little, but you weren’t blackout drunk. you can expect a mild hangover, and that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

the clock reads 3:42. even if joel took the late shift, he would be home by now. even he is not so foolish as to think he can risk missing curfew by this much. something must have happened to him. 

it doesn’t even occur to you to wait for him. you’re just grabbing your handgun and stuffing it into the waistband of your pants. the metal is cold against your skin, but you’re so buzzed with adrenaline and worry you barely feel it. you pull on a light sweater and open the door.

he’s not in the hall. he’s not in the stairway.

in fact, you walk the full length of your street before you’re certain he’s not there. you stand alone on the end of the street and sigh, planting your hands on your hips.

at the end of the day, what do you know about joel miller? where would he go in case of an emergency? 

tess, you finally decide. he would go see tess. so off you go, across the QZ, to tess’s apartment. it’s a long walk, but you know the patterns FEDRA follows, and you know where to hide. along the way, you see no one, but you hear lots.

moans, mostly. some singing. crying. the sounds of a broken city. 

tess’s apartment looms before you, and you’re suddenly struck with uncertainty. what if he’s not here? before you can stop yourself, you raise a fist and knock softly. 

tess opens almost instantly, not even looking tired. her blonde hair is pulled sharply away from her forehead, into a bun at the nape of her neck. her brow furrows. “what are you doing here?”

“joel,” you whisper. “is he here?”

she steps out of her apartment and looks left and right. then back at you. she hesitates. “why don’t you come inside?”

“what happened? is he in here?” you ask as you cross her threshold. she closes the door behind you. “tess. where is he?”

she seems almost distracted as she closes all the curtains. “joel. he didn’t come home last night?”

“uh, no. look, should i be worried? i mean, i am worried! where is he?”

tess looks straight at you. “i don’t know. we did a job yesterday. nothing big– just a few pills. he kept talking about you… he was all smiley.” she frowns in thought. “there was one weird thing.”

“yes? what was it?”

“when he dropped off the pills, the FEDRA bastard asked about you.”

you’re taken aback. you don’t interact with any FEDRA officers. “i don’t even know any of them!” you protest, as though she’s accusing you of something. 

“no, i know,” she’s quick to assure you. “it threw us off, too. joel kind of… lost it. i’ve never seen him like that before, and i hope i never do again.”

you hesitate before asking, “what did he do?”

tess grimaces. “let’s just say FEDRA’s down one agent.”

“oh.” you’re breathless for a moment, which confuses you, but you shove it aside. for now, you have to focus on your missing roommate-slash-partner-slash-whatever-you-are. “so where is he?”

“after that, he just ran. i thought he went home. i guess not.”

the worry that sprouted earlier is now blooming fully in your chest. it bursts out of your mouth with every breath, every word. you’re choking on it. 

“where– where might he have gone?”

tess thinks for a moment. “there’s a speakeasy he talks about sometimes. it’s down by the old port. do you know where that is?” you nod. “do you have a gun?” you nod again. “do you want me to go with you?”

“no, no, it’s fine. i’m good at staying out of trouble.” you force a brief smile and start walking towards the door. she follows you out. 

“will i see you tomorrow?” she asks. 

it’s a double-edged question. she’s asking not only about your safety, but also about your allegiance to her and her organization. “yes,” you finally answer. “yes, you will. with joel.”

you share a smile, and then the door is shut and you’re gone. you know exactly which speakeasy tess is talking about. joel has taken you there a few times. you’ve enjoyed it every time, but he likes it more than you. you’re clinging to the hope that he’s there through the short walk, all the way up to when you rap out the code on the door.

you hear a lock unclick. faint music seeps out from under the door. FEDRA must pretend this place doesn’t exist. sometimes they turn a blind eye to something good.

your theory is proven right when you spot several FEDRA agents lounging at the bar. the dim lights help hide the block letters on their uniforms, but it seems you’re looking for trouble tonight. 

your gaze immediately lands on him, and your lungs empty in one relieved gasp.

joel is in a corner, surrounded by his coworkers. he’s smiling. he’s… laughing. his hand grips a beer bottle by the neck, and you shift your weight, flustered against your will by the sight. he doesn’t see you, but in your happiness you don’t register this.

you’re at his table in mere seconds, smiling broadly despite your exhaustion. it’s 4 in the morning, but you couldn’t be happier. 

then his eyes meet yours, and your stomach drops.

“what are you doing here?” 

it’s joel, yes, but something’s different. he’s drunk. that’s the biggest thing. but also, he seems angry. your smile from before is gone, replaced by an angry scowl. one that has never been directed at you before.

you take a step back before you realize what you’re doing. “i… i was worried about you.” your voice sounds so small.

the men sitting around joel laugh. he doesn’t stop them, and your heart twinges in your chest. suddenly the worry from earlier is gone, replaced by a burning anger. it flushes your cheeks, it stains the breaths that spill from your open mouth. you’re blinded by it.

you’re frozen there until he speaks. he holds all the power. 

finally, he looks at you. it’s almost like he’s condescending to you. “get out, little girl,” he says. it’s nothing, it’s not even a real acknowledgement of you. but his voice isn’t slurred, which tells you he hasn’t had as much alcohol as you originally thought.

“what?”

he rolls his eyes. “i said–”

“i know what you said.” you can hardly believe yourself. you can hardly believe joel. he’s never done this kind of thing before. “i waited for you. why didn’t you come home?”

joel shoots you a withering glare. “we’re not family, you know,” he finally says. “you’re a burden. you are a responsibility. i owe you nothing.” he doesn’t spare you a second glance, just turns back to the others at the table and reaches for another bottle.

you stand there for a moment, frozen, but when it becomes clear he’s done with you, you leave. the walk back to your shared apartment feels longer than usual. you’re in your head, trying to figure out a plan. what could you possibly do when joel always has the upper hand?

then it hits you. if joel wants you gone so bad, if he really wants you out, you’ll give it to him. you’ll give it to him until he chokes on it.

that night, you take all of your stuff and bolt.

you’re aware of the time constraints you’re under. joel might be drinking, but he’ll still want to be home for a shower before he goes off to work. it’s a little before 6:00 when you’re finally done. all of your things are stowed in tess’s apartment for now, until you can find your own place. 

you stand there, surveying your new home. it’s bigger than the one you and joel shared, but it’s also not as comforting. you scan the kitchen and living area multiple times before you realize that it feels different because joel’s record player isn’t there. in the place where you had stored his records, tess has a cabinet of clothing. 

you heave a sigh. it’s not perfect, but then again it’s not forever. just until you find an apartment. and a job. preferably one that doesn’t involve seeing joel fucking miller every single fucking day. you wonder if you can include that on the application.

tess is off doing… whatever it is she does during the day. she’s left you with a spare key and instructions to not let anyone in. the day is yours. you spend it sleeping. 

you unpack when you can. it takes a few days to get fully accustomed to the new living space, but that’s normal. you’re in an entirely new home. 

speaking of which… you’re not entirely sure how to thank tess. a card doesn’t seem like enough, but a cake is too much. she’s assured you multiple times that no thanks are necessary, she’s just doing what anyone would do. but you both know she’s not. the boston QZ inhabitants are not known for their generosity or charity. quite the opposite, in fact. before you fell in with tess and joel, you got your ass handed to you pretty regularly.

there’s so much you have to thank her for. you don’t even know where to start.

on your fourth day there, tess doesn’t have any plans. normally she “works”-- whatever that means– but today apparently she’s off. she comes out of her room looking fresh, clean. you begin to suspect she only showers when she has time. 

but now her hair is pulled back into a bun, and her sharp face is softened with some light makeup. “hey,” she greets you with a nod.

“don’t you look nice. where’s the party?”

she laughs good-naturedly. “all dressed up with nowhere to go, i guess.” tess has a glint in her eye. you’re a little suspicious.

“what are you looking at me like that for?”

“no reason.” but she doesn’t stop.

“no seriously, come on.” you rise from the couch, setting aside your knitting. “what are you thinking?”

“i’m thinking you should go out tonight.”

“...oh.”

“with me! we’ll go to some speakeasy and drink cheap liquor that men buy for us. it’ll be fun! plus,” she adds, smiling widely, “you need a rebound.”

you groan and throw your head back. “oh, come on, what does that even mean?”

“it means you’ve been sitting on this couch for way too long. so he broke your heart.”

“it was way more than that.”

“okay, so he crushed your chance at ever finding happiness.”

“getting closer.”

“but you can’t let that define you!” she plants her hands on her hips. “what better way to show joel he was wrong than to hook up with someone else?”

“i’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“what better way?” she asks again.

“it’s way more complicated than that and you know it!” you stop to collect your thoughts and find yourself thinking of joel and his smile. “diseases.”

“what?”

“diseases! stds! i don’t know!” you’re gesturing wildly with your hands now, and tess is bent at the waist from laughing so hard. “it’s a real possibility!”

“that was true with joel, too!” she points out. 

you’re silent for a moment. it’s only been four days– not nearly long enough for you to “get over” him. “i miss him.”

tess stares at you with wide eyes. “what?”

“i miss him.”

she sputters, “i thought you hated him!”

“i don’t hate him! he just…”

“he broke your heart! stomped on it! in public!”

“yes, i know. i was there. but, i just… i just miss him. i can’t shake the feeling that he didn’t mean it, that he wasn’t in the right state of mind.” you shrug. “maybe i’ll never know. but i just don’t feel right hooking up with someone else when i’m still in–” 

you barely stop yourself in time. tess catches you anyway. 

“you’re in love with him? no way.” she’s shaking her head aggressively, emphatically. “no dick is that good. no dick is worth that.”

“it’s not about his dick!” you sink back onto the couch and bury your face in your hands. you feel hopeless all of a sudden. “what if he was the one and i fucked it up?”

“you can’t fuck up the one.” she kneels in front of you and takes your hands in hers. “listen to me. if you want to go back to him, i’m not going to stop you. but he doesn’t deserve you. and if he keeps acting this way, he never will.”

you suppress a groan. it’s all so complicated, and it makes your heart ache. why isn’t love ever simple? in a world colonized by evil, why does even this have to be tainted? “i’m not going back to him,” you swear. “i just… i just miss him. i don’t know.”

“we don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.” tess shrugs sadly. “i get it if you’re like, i never want to go out again.”

“no, no, that’s not it. i just… i’m just tired.”

she gives you a knowing look. “right. well, i’m going to at least get a drink. i’ll be back later.” then she laughs. “i really will, i’m not going to curse you out in public. sorry sorry sorry so sorry i just couldn’t–”

you’re both laughing as you jump up to shove her out the front door. she shouts apologies through frantic giggling even when the door is closed behind her. 

meanwhile, joel is getting his ass handed to him.

“you’re a fucking idiot,” tess scoffs. “you know she’s the best thing that ever happened to you, right?”

he frowns. “she didn’t happen to me. she was just someone else i had to take care of.”

tess stops in her tracks, forcing him to slow down. “what the fuck even is that, joel? did you even go home that night?”

he shoots her a desperate look. there are dark circles under his eyes from a lack of sleep. he never could sleep as well without her. “yes, okay, i did! i did go home! i meant to go apologize, but she wasn’t there. so i went to wait for her at one of the markets she mentioned. she loves cooking, so i figured– look, it doesn’t even matter. she doesn’t want to see me.” he runs a hand through his already-messy hair. “i don’t know what to do.”

“apologize, dickhead!”

“how can i apologize when she won’t even see me?” joel is getting more and more distressed as he talks about it. it suddenly hits him that if you refuse to see him, he won’t have anyone.

sure, there’s tess, but he would never tell tess about his day. he could never tell tess what he wants for dinner. 

if there’s no you, who is he supposed to talk to?

tess is gesturing wildly with her hands. she does that when she gets excited or nervous. “you love her, don’t you?”

“how can i say i love her? i obviously don’t.”

“okay but you did, right?”

he hesitates. it feels wrong to say this about you when you’re not even there. “i loved her as much as you can love someone you’ve only known for a few months.”

she doesn’t waste even a second. “so then why’d you do it?”

it spills out like a broken bottle of whiskey. “she got close, tess! i was putting my boots under her bed! she gave me a massage. she told me she likes hearing about my day.” saying it out loud, joel’s beginning to realize how big a mistake he’s made. “i loved her. i love her, i just don’t know how to fix it. i’ll end up hurting her no matter what i do.”

tess stares at him. for a long moment, neither of them say anything. then he keeps going. “the last thing i want is for her to think i hate her. i don’t. i just… i miss her, and i don’t know how to fix it… i can’t fix it on my own.

“i want us to be happy,” he concludes.

well, mostly he wants you to be happy. 

your happiness just happens to correlate with his.

it doesn’t often rain in boston, but when it does, it pours. 

on this particular evening, you’re alone, tess having left hours earlier for something work-related. you’re still not entirely sure what she does on these work-related outings. 

you’re just about to curl up on the couch with a cup of weak tea and your battered copy of pride and prejudice when there’s a brisk knock on the door. you freeze. tess has always told you never to open the door for anyone. in fact, that was the first rule she established when you moved in with her. apparently tess is something of a target, and so now you are too. 

but this knock sounds familiar, and when you look through the peephole, you know why. you yank the door open. 

“are you insane?” 

joel just stands there, shivering. he’s soaked to the bone. “i’m so sorry,” he says. “i don’t want to waste your time. i’m so sorry.”

“what?”

“i should’ve come home, and i’m sorry that i didn’t.” his teeth are chattering from how cold it is, and part of you wants to let him inside. but the other part clings to your pride. “i’m sorry that i let them laugh at you, and i’m sorry that i said you were a burden. you are… anything but.”

you don’t say anything for a long moment. “what am i then?”

joel doesn’t hesitate. “you are the only thing worth living for.”

“what does that mean?”

“i love you,” he blurts. your eyes go wide. “i love you desperately. i love you hopelessly. i loved you as you left me, and i loved you even though i knew you would never come back to me. i loved you then as i love you now, and i understand if you want nothing to do with me. you don’t need to accept this, or even tolerate this, but i need you to know. you must know. i—“

“stop, stop.” he does. “what are you doing?”

his brow furrows. “i’m apologizing to you.”

“yes, but why?”

“what do you mean?”

“what are you trying to get out of it?” you refuse to let him back in again if it’s just to break your heart. you need to hear him say it– say anything, really, that would give you an excuse to close the door.

“i want you to be happy,” he says. like it’s as simple as that. like he really does just want you to be happy.

“i am happy,” you blurt out. 

he nods. nods again. “i’m so sorry,” he says, and then he turns away.

before you know what you’re doing, you shout, “wait, no! joel!” you let go of the doorframe and reach out for his shoulder. “joel, i’m not happy. i miss you. i love you.”

you manage to pull him back towards you, and then his arms are wrapped around you and you’re burying your face in his neck. “i’m so sorry,” he whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.”

“i forgive you,” you breathe. 

joel pulls back just slightly, still keeping his arms around you. “come home,” he murmurs. 

you nod immediately, and then shake your head. “i have to leave a note for tess, she’ll be so mad if i just leave.” you drag him into her apartment with you. he follows dutifully as you search the kitchen for a sticky note, and waits while you scribble out a quick explanation.

joel came by. went home with him. thank you!!

“do you think that’ll be enough?” you ask, holding it up for him to see.

he squints at it. “i don’t know, baby. maybe just a little more.”

you flush at the petname, but if he notices, he doesn’t show it. he’s moved to your hand, clinging tightly to it as you lengthen the note. (he apologized). “is that good?”

joel hums his approval. “good job, baby.” you shift your weight, and this time you know he notices, because a smirk dances on his lips. he doesn’t comment on it. 

it’s still raining by the time you leave tess’s apartment, though not as hard, and because it’s still before curfew, it’s safe for the two of you to walk home.

home. for so long joel’s apartment felt like an in-between space. a place to go to at night. it took so long for you feel safe there, and then it all fell apart. now it’s no longer a room with a bed, it’s no longer just a refuge, it’s a home.

he loves you. just thinking about it makes you smile, even as the rain pours down. joel is holding your hand, he’s calling you baby, and he’s taking you home. you don’t know how this could get any better.

and then suddenly it does, because as soon as you get home he’s kissing you in the doorway, pushing you against the door and fumbling with the lock. your breaths are labored, and you can hear his own desperate panting as he shoves the door open. he mouths his way down your neck, and you suppress a moan.

somehow, joel maneuvers the two of you into the bedroom, where he lays you down with breathtaking gentleness. you stare up at him, wide-eyed. maintaining eye contact, he slowly kneels and pulls your shorts down to your ankles, where he leaves them and looks away, choosing instead to eye your core, glistening with your slick already. he drags one finger through your folds. when you don’t say anything, he adds another, this time pressing into you lightly. you choke on a moan.

his hand retracts, and you can’t restrain the whimper that tears from your throat. “joel,” you cry. “please.”

“good girl,” he soothes you, rubbing circles into your inner thigh with his thumb. “don’t hide your noises. i want to hear how good i make you feel.”

another moan slips free. a grin stretches across his face. then he’s burying his face in your thighs and your back arches off the bed, his name spilling from your lips with reckless abandon. he’s messy with it, smearing his spit and your slick across your folds and thighs. 

you know the walls are thin, but in your bliss you don’t care. all you can think of is joel, joel, joel. joel who loves you, and who is unfurling you on his tongue. 

you’re so close, and then he presses his thumb to your clit and his tongue to your fluttering hole. by the time his tongue breaches your core, your orgasm overtakes you, lifting you up and away. you fall silent for a long moment, but joel doesn’t mind. 

he pushes himself up to your head, kissing you through the high, bringing you back down to him. “shh, shh, shh, baby,” he coos. “you’re so good for me.”

a soft smile graces your lips, and you pull his lips back to yours, kissing him slowly. “i love you,” you whisper, and though you can’t hear it, you feel his lips mouth it back. 

he shifts up, spreading your legs wider, and you know what’s coming. he keeps his mouth pressed to yours, swallowing your moan as he slides home, filling you up just right. your mind goes blank, but you’re dimly aware of how deep he is, how full you feel. if you could speak, you would tell him these things.

but as it is, all you can manage is a quiet affirmation. “you feel… you feel so good,” you whimper, eyes squeezed shut. he still hasn’t begun moving, just staying sheathed to the hilt in you. “yes, joel.”

he makes his first thrust softly. “that’s it,” joel says. “my beautiful girl.” he quickly establishes a rhythm, sliding in and out to the tune of your whines and cries. 

“please, joel, please,” you whisper, fisting the sheets in your hands. “please kiss me.”

you don’t have to ask again. instantly, his lips finds yours. he groans into your mouth and braces his hands on your hips, holding you there while he pushes into you over and over. 

it’s not that long before you can feel your orgasm approaching again. “joel, i’m– i’m gonna come,” you say, eyes squeezed shut. 

“go ahead, baby,” he commands. “come for me.”

with one final thrust, he’s spilling into you as you come apart around him. “joel,” you mewl. he’s still buried deep inside you, his forehead resting on yours as you both float down. 

when he pulls out, it’s cautious and gentle, and you can feel his love for you. your eyes drift shut, and you’re dimly aware of him walking away, but for once it doesn’t bother you. you know he’ll come back.

he loves you. 

as it turns out, he does come back, holding a warm cloth. he wipes you clean and helps you to the bathroom so you can rinse off. he follows you into the shower wordlessly, pressing kisses to your shoulders and forehead. 

that night, as you lie in bed and feel him curl into you, you don’t have to pretend anymore. he really is yours. 

[scarletwinterxx]

ddaddu series #1 - choi seungcheol dadverse au

hellooo ~ i said i think a week ago i wrote a new dad fic... and yes it's w the one and the only choi seungcheol😅 he's just screaaams dad girl so here we are. this is definetely one of longest i've written in a while. I was up all night and it took a few days to finish all of this so i hope you like it! and let me know if i should make more....

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Seungcheol burst through your front door, not even bothering to knock, looking slightly frazzled and out of breath. You were sitting on the living room floor with Areum, helping her color in a princess-themed coloring book, when he made his dramatic entrance.

"What's going on?" you asked, raising an eyebrow as Areum looked up, wide-eyed at her dad's sudden arrival.

"Daddy!" Areum exclaimed, abandoning her crayons and running over to hug him. He scooped her up with a brief smile but quickly turned his attention to you.

"I need your help," he said, his voice low and urgent.

You blinked, confused by his tone. "Help with what? Are you in trouble?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, setting Areum back down and stepping closer to you. "Big trouble. The boys are trying to set me up on a blind date, and I need an alibi."

"So, let me get this straight. Your *big trouble* is a blind date?" you stared at him for a moment, your lips twitching as you try not to laugh

"It's not funny," he protested, running a hand through his hair "Jeonghan and Joshua have been hounding me about it for weeks, and now they've gone and actually arranged something. They told the girl I was available. *Available!* Can you believe that?"

"Well..." you started, unable to keep the teasing tone out of your voice. "You *are* technically available, Seungcheol. You're single, remember?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly unamused. "That's not the point. I don't want to go."

"Then just say no?" you suggested, shrugging

"They won’t take no for an answer! They’ll guilt-trip me into going somehow. You know how they are." He sighed, flopping onto your couch like a man defeated. "That's why I need you to help me. Pretend I’m busy. Say we’ve got plans. Something—anything—to get me out of this."

"And why would I do that?" confused, you ask him

"Because..." He paused, looking genuinely desperate now. "You’re my only hope."

Before you could respond, Areum piped up, her little voice curious. "Daddy, what's a 'blind date'?"

Seungcheol winced, glancing at you for help. You smirked, not about to let him off the hook that easily. "Oh, it's when someone goes out with a stranger to see if they like each other," you explained casually. "Your dad's friends think he needs a girlfriend."

Areum's eyes went wide. "A girlfriend? But Daddy doesn't need a girlfriend. He has Mommy!"

Both you and Seungcheol froze at her innocent declaration, and then your cheeks flushed. You quickly looked away, focusing on the coloring book in front of you.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, seemed to perk up at Areum’s words.

"See?" he said, pointing at her as if she'd just made his case. "Even Areum agrees. I don’t need a girlfriend." as if his five year old's daughter is the only thing making sense right now.

You rolled your eyes, fighting a smile.

"Fine," you relented. "What exactly do you want me to say to get you out of this?"

"Anything!" he said quickly, leaning forward. "Just tell them we’re doing something together this weekend. A family thing. They'll back off if they think I'm spending time with you and Areum."

"You're so dramatic," you muttered, shaking your head. "But okay, I'll help you. This time."

"Thank you. You’re a lifesaver." he grinned, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

"Yeah, yeah," you said, waving him off. "But you owe me for this."

"Deal," he said without hesitation, standing up and pulling Areum into his arms. "You hear that, princess? Daddy’s off the hook, thanks to Mommy."

Areum giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You're silly, Daddy."

Seungcheol laughed, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Yeah, I am. But don’t tell uncle Jeonghan and uncle Joshua that, okay? It’s our little secret."

As he left your apartment, looking far more relaxed than when he’d arrived, you couldn’t help but shake your head at the whole situation. Seungcheol, despite all his bravado, could be such a dork sometimes.

Still, there was a small, unexpected warmth in your chest as you watched him leave. Even after everything, he always seemed to find his way back to you. No matter what excuse he needed to make it happen.

Later that evening, Seungcheol was sitting at home, blissfully unaware that his “alibi” plan was about to backfire. He had just finished putting Areum to bed when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. Picking it up, he saw Jeonghan’s name on the screen.

He answered with a suspicious, “Hello?”

“You sneaky little liar,” Jeonghan’s voice greeted him, half-amused and half-accusing. “You could’ve just said no, you know.”

Seungcheol’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”

“*What am I talking about?* Oh, just the fact that we got a call from *her.*” Jeonghan’s emphasis on the word *her* was enough to make Seungcheol’s heart skip a beat.

“Her?” Seungcheol played dumb, even though he knew exactly who Jeonghan meant.

“Your lovely *ex-wife,*” Jeonghan said, clearly enjoying this. “She called to tell us you’re busy this weekend because you’re spending time with her and Areum. Ring any bells?”

Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his face. “She wasn’t supposed to actually call you! She was just supposed to tell me to tell you��”

“Well, she called anyway,” Jeonghan interrupted, snickering. “And let me just say, it was a very enlightening conversation. Joshua and I were on speakerphone with her, by the way.”

“Oh, great,” Seungcheol muttered, already dreading what was coming next

“She sounded so sweet, too,” Joshua chimed in, suddenly joining the call. “Told us you’d be having a family day. Said you were a great dad and how nice it was that you prioritized Areum.”

“I am a great dad,” Seungcheol defended, even though he knew where this was going

“And then,” Jeonghan continued, his voice dripping with mischief, “she thanked us for ‘understanding.’ Understanding *what,* Seungcheol? That you’re still hopelessly hung up on her?”

“I’m not hung up on her!” Seungcheol snapped, though his face was burning

“Oh, please,” Jeonghan said, laughing now. “You *ran* to her to avoid going on a blind date. If that doesn’t scream ‘still in love with my ex,’ I don’t know what does.”

“It’s not like that,” Seungcheol argued, even though he could hear how weak his own defense sounded

“Then what’s it like?” Joshua asked innocently, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer

Seungcheol sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I didn’t want to go on the date, and it was the only way I could think of okay? That’s all it was.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan said, drawing the word out. “And the fact that you still wear your wedding ring sometimes doesn’t mean anything either, right?”

“I don’t—” Seungcheol started to protest, but Joshua cut him off.

“And the fact that you’re always making excuses to hang out with her and Areum? Totally not suspicious.”

“Or how about how you still call her whenever something important happens?” Jeonghan added. “Like that time you got promoted, and the *first* person you told wasn’t us, but *her.*”

“Okay, enough!” Seungcheol snapped, though he couldn’t deny any of it. He slumped back on the couch, glaring at the ceiling. “You two are insufferable.”

“Maybe,” Jeonghan said, clearly enjoying this. “But we’re not wrong, are we?”

There was a long pause, and for once, Seungcheol didn’t have a quick comeback. Instead, he muttered, “I’m hanging up now,” and ended the call before they could say anything else.

As he set his phone down, Seungcheol sighed heavily. He hated how well Jeonghan and Joshua knew him. Hated how they could see right through him, even when he tried to deny it.

But most of all, he hated that they were right. Because no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, he wasn’t over you.

Not even close.

The next weekend, Seungcheol found himself being herded into a bar by Jeonghan, Joshua, and a few other friends. He hadn’t wanted to come, he’d rather be home with Areum or even by himself but Jeonghan had been persistent, and Seungcheol didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Come on, Cheol,” Jeonghan said, throwing an arm around his shoulders as they walked inside. “You’ve been way too uptight lately. A night out is exactly what you need.”

Seungcheol grunted in response, scanning the bar. It was packed with people, the music loud enough to make casual conversation impossible. He could already feel the headache forming.

“I’ll get us a table,” Joshua said, disappearing into the crowd

As they settled into a corner booth, Jeonghan smirked and gestured toward a group of women near the bar. “What about them? Think any of them would catch your eye, Cheol?”

Seungcheol shot him a glare. “Not interested.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan teased. “You can’t stay hung up on—”

“I said I’m not interested,” Seungcheol interrupted, his tone sharper than he intended

Jeonghan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to bite my head off.”

But Jeonghan being Jeonghan, he didn’t let it drop. When the women eventually came over, clearly encouraged by Jeonghan and Joshua, Seungcheol’s discomfort was palpable

“Hi,” one of the women said, flashing him a bright smile. “I’m Hyejin. And you are?”

“Not interested,” Seungcheol muttered, taking a sip of his drink without meeting her gaze.

Her smile faltered, but she didn’t give up. “Oh, come on. You’re way too handsome to be sitting here brooding all night.”

Joshua tried to suppress a laugh while Jeonghan nudged him under the table, grinning like the devil himself.

“I’m fine, thanks,” Seungcheol said, still avoiding eye contact.

“Don’t mind him,” Jeonghan said, ever the instigator. “He’s just shy.”

Seungcheol glared at Jeonghan. “I’m not shy.”

“Then talk to her,” Jeonghan challenged, a mischievous glint in his eye

“I don’t want to,” Seungcheol snapped, standing up abruptly. “I’m getting some air.”

As he walked away, Jeonghan burst into laughter. “I swear, he’s worse than a teenager with a crush.”

Outside, Seungcheol leaned against the cool brick wall, letting out a heavy sigh. He didn’t know why he’d let the guys drag him out in the first place. This wasn’t his scene anymore.

He pulled out his phone and instinctively opened your messages. There was a picture you’d sent earlier that day of Areum holding up a crayon drawing of the two of you with her in the middle. She’d written “My Famly” in bright, messy letters at the top.

He smiled to himself, his thumb hovering over the call button.

Before he could make a decision, the door to the bar opened, and Joshua stepped outside, a knowing look on his face. “Thought I’d find you out here.”

“Not in the mood,” Seungcheol muttered, putting his phone away.

Joshua leaned against the wall next to him, crossing his arms. “You know, Jeonghan’s just messing with you. He knows you’re still into her.”

“I’m not—”

“Cheol.” Joshua cut him off with a pointed look. “We’ve known you for years. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter. We’re divorced. She’s moved on.”

“Has she?” Joshua asked, raising an eyebrow

That made Seungcheol pause. “What do you mean?”

“She’s not exactly going on dates, is she?” Joshua pointed out. “And last I checked, she’s still wearing your ring.”

Seungcheol frowned, his chest tightening at the thought. He’d noticed it, of course. How could he not? But he hadn’t dared to hope it meant anything.

“Look, man,” Joshua said, clapping him on the shoulder. “If you still love her and I know you do you’ve got to stop acting like it’s too late. Because if you keep sitting on the sidelines, someone else *will* come along eventually. And you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself.”

With that, Joshua turned and went back inside, leaving Seungcheol alone with his thoughts.

And for the first time in a long while, those thoughts were filled with hope.

Seungcheol sighed and adjusted his jacket as he made his way back inside. Maybe if he stayed near the bar’s edge, the persistent group would lose interest. But as soon as he returned to the booth, Hyejin, the overly determined woman, lit up like he was her jackpot.

“There you are,” she said, patting the empty seat beside her. “I thought you might’ve run off.”

Seungcheol stayed standing, crossing his arms. “Just needed air.”

“Well, now that you’re back, let’s make this night a little more fun, huh?” She reached for his arm, but he took a step back

“I’m good,” he said flatly

But Hyejin clearly wasn’t one to give up easily.

“Oh, come on. One drink. What’s the harm?”

Jeonghan and Joshua, meanwhile, were watching the scene unfold like it was the best drama of the year. Joshua even had the audacity to take a sip of his beer and mutter, “This is going to be good.”

Seungcheol shot them both a glare before turning back to Hyejin. He’d had enough of the games.

“Look,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “I’m flattered, really. But I’m not interested. I have someone else.”

Her smile faltered. “Oh? You’re married?”

He didn’t hesitate reaching for the gold chain tucked under his shirt, there hangs his wedding ring. The date and your initials engraved on the inside. He let it dangle in the dim light, the small circle gleaming like a quiet promise.

“Divorced,” he clarified, “but that doesn’t mean I’m available.”

Hyejin blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “You’re divorced, but you’re still...?”

“I’m still in love with my ex-wife,” Seungcheol said plainly, his voice steady. “And we have a daughter together. Her name is Areum. She’s five, loves soccer, and thinks I can fix anything—even when I can’t.”

Jeonghan and Joshua exchanged wide-eyed glances, the playful smirks slipping from their faces.

“Whoa,” Jeonghan muttered under his breath. “He went there.”

Seungcheol ignored them, keeping his focus on Hyejin. “So, no offense, but I’m not looking for anything. My family is my priority. Always.”

There was a moment of stunned silence before Hyejin finally nodded, clearly caught off guard. “I see. Well... good for you, I guess. It’s rare to meet someone so dedicated.”

With that, she stood up, mumbling something about grabbing another drink, and walked away.

The second she was out of earshot, Jeonghan burst into laughter. “Oh, my God. Cheol, that was...”

“I’ve never seen someone so politely crush someone’s hopes like that.” Joshua shook his head, though he was smiling

“I’m not joking,” Seungcheol said, slipping the ring and chain back under his shirt

Jeonghan grinned, leaning across the table. “We know you’re not. That’s what makes it so entertaining. You’re still head over heels for her, aren’t you?”

Seungcheol sighed, sinking into the booth. “Can we not do this right now?”

“Nope,” Jeonghan said, popping the “p.” “This is exactly the time to do it. Because you just told a complete stranger that you’re still in love with your ex-wife. Out loud. In public.”

“And in front of witnesses,” Joshua added, smirking

Seungcheol groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Why do I even hang out with you two?”

“Because we’re the only ones who can call you out on your nonsense,” Jeonghan said, patting him on the back. “And honestly, Cheol, it’s about time you stopped hiding it.”

“Stopped hiding what?” Seungcheol muttered.

“That you want her back,” Joshua said simply.

Seungcheol didn’t respond, his thoughts too tangled with the truth of their words. He didn’t need to admit it—they already knew.

And deep down, so did he.

The hum of the car engine fills the silence between you and Seungcheol. The road stretches endlessly, flanked by towering trees that seem to lean in, listening to the quiet tension between you. In the backseat, Areum is a bundle of energy, her stuffed rabbit tucked securely under one arm as she hums a made-up tune. Her legs swing back and forth, her excitement barely contained.

“Are we there yet?” she chirps for the third time in an hour

“Almost, sweetheart,” Seungcheol answers, glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

You glance at him from the passenger seat, noting how his hands grip the steering wheel, veins faintly visible under his tan skin. He looks good—too good. His hair, slightly longer than when you last saw him, falls over his forehead, and his jawline is as sharp as ever.

You force yourself to look away, instead focusing on the scenery outside, even though it does little to distract you from the weight of his presence.

“You excited, Areum?” you ask

“I’m soooo excited!” she exclaims, throwing her hands into the air. “Mommy, Daddy, we’re going to have so much fun! Just like old times!”

Your heart clenches at her words. You glance at Seungcheol again, catching the way his lips press into a thin line. He doesn’t say anything, but the moment hangs heavily between you.

The cabin is perfect. Nestled by a serene lake, it’s surrounded by tall pines that sway gently in the breeze. The wooden exterior glows warmly in the afternoon sunlight, and Areum bounces with excitement as soon as you step out of the car.

“Look, Mommy! A swing!” she squeals, racing toward the porch where a rustic wooden swing creaks invitingly.

Seungcheol opens the trunk and starts unloading the bags. You hesitate for a moment before grabbing Areum’s smaller suitcase and following him inside.

Areum darts around, exploring every nook and cranny, while you and Seungcheol silently divvy up tasks. You find yourself in the kitchen, unpacking snacks and prepping a quick lunch.

The clatter of utensils is the only sound until Seungcheol walks in, his sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that shouldn’t still affect you the way they do.

“Need help?” he asks

“I’ve got it,” you reply curtly, not looking up

He doesn’t leave. Instead, he leans against the counter, watching you as you slice fruit. The tension is suffocating, and you’re about to tell him to either help or leave when Areum bursts in

“Daddy! Come help me unpack my toys!” she demands, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the door

He follows her willingly, but not before casting one last look your way A look that lingers too long and says too much.

After dinner, Areum insists on roasting marshmallows by the firepit outside. The three of you gather under the clear night sky, the flames crackling and sending up occasional sparks. Areum’s laughter fills the air as she holds her marshmallow too close to the fire, causing it to catch alight.

“Help, Daddy!” she shrieks, holding the stick out.

Seungcheol chuckles, taking it from her and expertly blowing out the flames. “There. Perfectly charred,” he declares, handing it back to her.

You watch as he wipes a smudge of chocolate from her cheek, his expression soft and full of love. The sight twists something inside you, and you have to look away.

When your eyes meet his across the fire, his gaze is steady, searching, as if he’s trying to read your mind.

Areum’s birthday breakfast is a chaotic mix of pancakes, whipped cream, and sprinkles. She insists on wearing her birthday crown all day, and Seungcheol dutifully bows every time she walks by, calling her “Princess Areum.”

When it’s time for cake, she claps her hands excitedly as you light the candles. “Okay, sweetie, make a wish,” you say, kneeling beside her.

She closes her eyes, her expression scrunching up in concentration. Then, with a triumphant shout, she declares, “I wish for a sibling!”

Your breath catches, and you glance at Seungcheol, who looks just as stunned. Areum blows out the candles in one go, her face lighting up with joy. “Now it has to come true!” she exclaims, completely oblivious to the tension between you and her father.

The morning sun glitters on the lake’s surface, and Areum races ahead, her bright pink swimsuit standing out against the greens and blues of nature. She shrieks with delight as her toes touch the cold water, kicking up little splashes.

“Come on, Mommy! Daddy!” she calls, waving her arms.

You hesitate at the shoreline, adjusting your cover-up nervously. Seungcheol, on the other hand, wades in without hesitation, his muscular frame cutting through the water as he lifts Areum into his arms. She giggles as he spins her around, droplets flying everywhere.

“Scared of a little water?” he teases, glancing back at you with a smirk.

You roll your eyes but step in, letting the icy water creep up your legs. Areum swims over to you, her small hands grasping yours.

“Let’s play! All of us!” she exclaims.

She drags you toward Seungcheol, who’s treading water a few feet away. The three of you end up playing a makeshift game of tag, and for a moment, it feels almost normal almost like the three of you are a family again.

Later, when Areum insists on building sandcastles by the shore, you sit side by side with Seungcheol, the silence between you no longer quite as heavy.

“She really loves this,” he says, watching Areum with a fond smile.

“She’s been looking forward to it for weeks,” you admit, fiddling with a piece of grass. “She wanted it to be perfect.”

He glances at you. “I think it is.”

After Areum falls asleep, the cabin feels too quiet. You find yourself on the porch, staring out at the dark lake. The sound of footsteps behind you makes you tense, but you don’t turn around. You know it’s him.

“She really surprised us today,” Seungcheol says, leaning against the railing beside you

“That’s Areum,” you reply softly, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Always full of surprises.”

There’s a pause before he speaks again. “She’s a lot like you.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. His gaze is steady, filled with something you can’t quite name. “You don’t have to say that,” you mumble

“I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “You’re both stubborn, and you never give up on what you want.”

The words hang between you, and before you can think, he takes a step closer. “I know I messed up,” he says, his tone almost pleading. “But being here… it reminds me of what we had. What we could still have.”

“Cheol…” you start, but he silences you with a gentle touch on your arm.

“I’m not asking for everything right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “But tell me… do you feel it too? Even a little?”

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you close the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that feels like both a question and an answer. It’s slow, deliberate, and filled with the weight of everything left unsaid.

For the first time in years, you let yourself hope.

The kiss deepens, but it isn’t hurried. It feels more like rediscovering something familiar yet distant. Seungcheol’s hand finds the curve of your waist, grounding you, while the other gently brushes your cheek.

For a fleeting moment, the years of heartbreak, resentment, and missed chances seem to melt away, leaving just the two of you under the starlit sky.

When you finally pull back, his forehead rests against yours, and his breath fans across your face. Neither of you says a word, and for once, the silence feels comfortable, even necessary.

“I… I should go to bed,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. It isn’t a rejection, but a plea for space, a moment to process what just happened.

Seungcheol nods, his hand lingering on your arm before he lets you go. “Goodnight,” he murmurs, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe.

You retreat to your room, your heart pounding in your chest. You glance at the bed, where Areum sleeps peacefully, her little hand clutching her stuffed rabbit. Her soft breaths are a reminder of everything that matters, of why you came here in the first place.

Still, when you lie down, the memory of Seungcheol’s touch lingers, refusing to let you rest.

The next morning, it's smell of freshly brewed coffee wakes you. Padding into the kitchen, you find Seungcheol already at work, flipping pancakes while Areum sits on the counter, wearing one of his oversized shirts over her pajamas. She’s animatedly telling him a story about her dreams, waving her arms for emphasis.

“And then the dragon said, ‘Areum, you’re the bravest princess ever!’” she declares, her eyes wide. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course,” he says with a grin, ruffling her hair. “If there’s anyone who can take down a dragon, it’s you.”

You linger in the doorway, unnoticed for a moment, watching the easy way they interact. Areum looks at him like he hung the moon, and Seungcheol, for all his faults, looks at her like she’s his whole world.

“Mommy!” Areum spots you first, her face lighting up. “Daddy’s teaching me how to flip pancakes! Look!” She holds up a spatula triumphantly

“Is he now?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you step closer. “Just don’t let him burn them.”

“Hey, I’m a pro. You remember.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. It’s moments like this that make it hard to hold on to the walls you’ve built.

As the three of you sit down to breakfast, Areum chatters on about all the things she wants to do before you leave the cabin. Her energy is infectious, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax.

After lunch, Areum insists on having a tea party outside by the lake. She drags Seungcheol along, handing him a tiny pink teacup and a plastic tiara. You try not to laugh as he dutifully places it on his head, his expression serious as Areum pours invisible tea into his cup.

“Daddy, you have to hold your pinky up!” Areum scolds, demonstrating the proper way to hold a teacup.

“Like this?” he asks, holding up his pinky with exaggerated effort.

Areum giggles. “No, Daddy, you’re doing it wrong!”

“Why don’t you join us, Mommy?” Areum calls, waving you over

“Oh, no,” you say, shaking your head. “You and Daddy seem to have it under control.”

“She’s scared of your tea,” Seungcheol teases, winking at you. “Probably thinks it’s too strong.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

It's the last night at the cabin before going back to normal. After putting Areum to bed, you find Seungcheol on the porch again, leaning against the railing. The moon casts a soft glow on the lake, and the air is cool but pleasant.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks without turning around.

You step out, closing the door quietly behind you. “Something like that.”

He gestures for you to join him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you do. The two of you stand in silence, the sounds of crickets and the gentle lapping of the lake filling the void.

“She’s amazing, you know,” he says finally, his voice low. “Areum. She’s everything good about us.”

You swallow hard, nodding. “She is.”

He turns to look at you then, his gaze soft but intense. “I meant what I said last night,” he murmurs. “I don’t want to lose this again. I don’t want to lose you.”

Your breath catches, but before you can respond, he reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm, steady, as they curl around yours.

“I know it will be hard,” he continues, his voice rough with emotion. “But if there’s even a part of you that still believes in us, I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’ve changed.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you look down, unsure of how to respond.

“Cheol…” you start, your voice trembling. “This isn’t just about us anymore. It’s about Areum.”

“I know,” he says, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. “And that’s why I want to do this right. For her. For you.”

For a long moment, you say nothing, your gaze fixed on the horizon. But when you finally look up, you see the sincerity in his eyes, and the walls you’ve built around your heart begin to crumble.

“Okay,” you whisper. “But this time… we take it slow.”

A smile spreads across his face, and for the first time in years, it feels like the start of something new.

The porch is quiet, save for the soft chirping of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze. Seungcheol’s hand lingers in yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, deliberate movements. The air between you feels charged, heavy with unspoken words and emotions that neither of you can ignore anymore.

“Slow,” he repeats, his voice soft but resolute. “I can do slow.”

But the way he’s looking at you now. His gaze warm and searching, dipping from your eyes to your lips makes you doubt his resolve. Your pulse quickens as he steps closer, his presence overwhelming in a way that feels both familiar and new.

“Cheol…” you murmur, unsure whether it’s meant to be a warning or encouragement

“Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. His free hand rises, fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face, lingering at your temple. “Tell me, and I will.”

You should say it. You should remind him that Areum is just inside, that this isn’t the time, that you’re still trying to figure things out. But instead, you find yourself leaning into his touch, the warmth of his hand against your skin unraveling the last of your defenses.

He takes your silence as permission and leans down slowly, his lips brushing against yours with an achingly soft tenderness. The kiss is tentative at first, as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away, but when you don’t, it deepens. His hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other.

The sensation is overwhelming, a rush of emotions you’ve tried so hard to bury. His lips are firm and insistent, and when his teeth graze your lower lip, you let out a soft gasp that seems to ignite something in him. He tilts his head, angling the kiss to deepen it further, and you feel his fingers tighten on your waist.

Your hands find their way to his chest, pressing lightly against the hard muscle beneath his shirt. It’s not a push to stop, but it makes him pause. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his breathing uneven.

“This okay?” he asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, your fingers curling into his shirt. “Yeah.”

He lets out a soft laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His confession sends a shiver through you, but before you can respond, his lips are on yours again. This time, there’s less hesitation. His hand slips under the hem of your sweater, his palm warm against the bare skin of your lower back. The touch is electric, sending sparks racing up your spine.

You can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, and Seungcheol freezes, pulling back abruptly. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his voice strained. “I said slow, and I mean it. I don’t want to mess this up.”

You’re breathless, your cheeks flushed as you look up at him. There’s a vulnerability in his expression that makes your heart ache. “You’re not messing anything up,” you assure him, your fingers still gripping his shirt.

He exhales deeply, resting his hands on your hips but making no move to take things further. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mutters, half-smiling as he brushes his thumb against your hipbone.

The sound of a soft thud inside the cabin breaks the moment, and both of you freeze, turning toward the door.

“Areum,” you whisper, your heart racing for an entirely different reason now

Seungcheol chuckles under his breath, stepping back and running a hand through his hair. “Guess the universe has a way of keeping me in check.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “We should check on her.”

He nods, his expression still warm. As you turn to head back inside, he catches your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Slow,” he repeats, his eyes locking with yours. “But I’m not letting you go this time.”

You smile, the warmth of his words settling deep in your chest. “Okay.”

Inside, Areum is fast asleep, her stuffed rabbit lying on the floor beside her bed. You tuck her back in, brushing a kiss to her forehead before slipping out of the room. As you close the door, Seungcheol is waiting in the hallway, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Goodnight,” you say softly, pausing in front of him

“Goodnight,” he replies, but his eyes linger on you a moment longer before he heads to his own room.

You retreat to your bed, your heart still racing from the night’s events. For the first time in years, you feel a flicker of hope—a possibility of rebuilding what you thought was lost. And as you drift off to sleep, you find yourself looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

The next morning you were woken up by the sound of Areum’s laughter as she runs through the living room, her stuffed rabbit trailing behind her. Seungcheol is chasing after her, pretending to be a monster, his deep growls making her shriek in delight.

You go down to see the duo having so much energy this early in the day, a fond smiling forming on your face

“Daddy, you’ll never catch me!” Areum taunts, darting behind the couch.

“We’ll see about that!” Seungcheol lunges dramatically, scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down!” she squeals, though her giggles betray her delight.

“Okay, okay, you win!” she says between giggles.

He sits beside her, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “That’s what I thought. Who’s the champ?”

“You are!” she says, sticking her tongue out at him before turning her attention to you. “Mommy! Come sit with us!”

You join them on the couch, Areum immediately climbing into your lap and wrapping her arms around your neck. “Did you have fun this weekend, sweetheart?” you ask, smoothing her hair

“Yes! It was the best birthday ever!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. Then, as if remembering something important, she leans back to look at both you and Seungcheol, her expression suddenly serious

“What is it, Areum?” you ask her

She takes a deep breath, her little brows furrowed in concentration. “Yesterday, when I blew out my candles, I made a wish.”

You and Seungcheol exchange a quick glance, his brow lifting in curiosity "We remember, what about it sweet girl?"

"I thought about it a lot. And since Mommy and Daddy are best friends” she pauses to give each of you a knowing look, “—I thought maybe you could make it happen.”

Seungcheol bursts into laughter, ruffling Areum’s hair. “That’s quite the request, princess.”

“But you always say you’d do anything for me!” she counters, crossing her arms in a way that makes her look far older than six.

You bite back a smile, trying to keep your tone serious. “Sweetheart, it doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“Why not?” she asks, tilting her head.

“Well,” Seungcheol jumps in, his voice warm and teasing, “it’s not something that happens overnight. It takes time and a lot of love.”

Areum seems to consider this, her little face scrunching up in thought. Then she looks at the two of you, her smile returning. “That’s okay! I can wait. As long as you promise!”

You and Seungcheol both laugh, and he reaches over to give her a hug. “We’ll see what we can do, princess. No promises, but we’ll try our best.”

“Yay!” Areum cheers, completely satisfied with that answer. She wriggles out of your lap and runs off to find her toys, leaving the two of you alone.

As soon as Areum disappears down the hall, Seungcheol turns to you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that was unexpected.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “She’s bold. Definitely takes after you.”

“Me?” he protests, feigning offense. “I think she takes after her mom. You’ve got a pretty bold streak yourself.”

“So, what do we tell her if she asks again?”

Seungcheol leans back, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “We tell her the truth. That we’re figuring things out, but we’ll always be a family—no matter what.”

“And hey,” he adds, his tone teasing, “if she really wants a sibling, I guess we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

You swat his arm, laughing despite yourself. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Choi Seungcheol.”

He grins, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers. “No rush,” he says softly, his eyes locking with yours. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

And as you sit there, hand in hand, you can’t help but feel that, for the first time in a long while, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

[kihteyu]

Art is usually fine once I get started but forcing myself to start is so unnecessarily hard

[sluttyten]

After I eventually finish this Haechan fic (s2g I don’t know why it’s getting so long 😂) and after I finish the rest of unholy, I’m gonna force myself to keep to a word minimum and just write something short because I can’t keep doing these long fics 😭

[odoraful]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

wanderer would prefer not to be stopped on his way home, especially when he's had a hard few days

content: wanderer x gn!reader; established relationship; 'kuni' nickname; pure fluff; just wanderer lowkey being a pathetic lover boy for you; 1.9k words

a/n: nothing else to say here besides i had a lot of fun writing this !! pls enjoy clingy wanderer !!

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“Hat Guy! Do yo-”

“Nope.”

Wanderer deadpanned, not even sparing a look at the scholar who addressed him as he walked past. It was at this point where most people would give up. Students of the Akademiya found that you had to catch the snarky scholar on a good day to strike up a casual conversation with him outside of the classroom. Unfortunately, this person was tenacious enough to not even let such an outright rejection faze him. Wanderer walked faster, only for his peer to match his stride.

“Hold on!” They cried out, slightly breathless from having to speed up. “You’re really not going to let me finish what I’m saying first?”

Wanderer scoffed. “What gave you that impression? My visible irritation? Or the fact that I’m actively trying to outpace you?”

“Hey! You don’t have to be so rude…” They frowned, voice trailing off in disappointment.

Finally giving the person a side-eyed glance, he recognised them to be a fellow Vahumana scholar named Mir. Whilst Wanderer could acknowledge Mir’s intelligence, he was far too soft-hearted for how stubborn he was. At that deflated comment, Wanderer stopped dead in his tracks. Mir wobbled, skidding on his feet to stop as well.

He considered using his flying abilities to leave Mir in the dust. However, this plan was only a fleeting thought as he recalled a stern meeting he had with staff at the Akademiya. They scolded that he wasn’t allowed to use his powers to avoid interaction with his peers. Something about misconduct and lacking etiquette that Wanderer half-remembered, choosing to nod along rather than actually listen to the prattle from the professors.

“Mir.”

He perked up. Wanderer could see his self-esteem reassemble at the mere fact that his name was remembered.

“What do you want?” Wanderer seethed, each word punctuated through gritted teeth.

If Mir felt intimidated at all by Wanderer’s ire, it showed little on his face. He only brightened further, seizing his chance to speak.

“I wanted to see whether you wanted to go to a social event later tonight at Lambad’s! There’ll be free drinks and food, and it’s really just a friendly get together to boost morale. It’s meant to be for us Vahumana scholars to catch each other up on the work we’re doing, and on what’s been going on in our lives,” he rambled.

What could simply be said in a few words Mir incredibly managed to do in multiple sentences. Wanderer let out a loud sigh.

“Mir,” he began, folding his arms. “Let’s say, hypothetically, you’ve just returned from a long and arduous trip from the desert where you’ve used all your energy up to explore ruins. Would you want to spend what little time off you have for the day going to a crowded tavern with people you only barely know?”

Mir stuttered. It was the most Wanderer had spoken to him in one go.

“W-well, that’s a good question! I guess it depends on what kind of-”

“Just answer it.”

Wanderer interrupted, dismissing Mir’s frivolous technicalities with a wave of his hand.

“Alright! Probably not! I’d just want to go home and relax.”

“And there it is,” Wanderer opened his arms wide, like a magician revealing their latest trick, “my response to your invitation.”

He turned smoothly on his heel and walked off. Mir opened his mouth to protest, but none came out. He stood there slack-jawed at his own words being used against him. Fortunately, he didn’t follow any longer.

Wanderer would probably short circuit if he bumped into anyone else right now. What he had told Mir was the truth. He was on his way home from the Akademiya just after returning from a 2 day trip in the desert. He would have enjoyed the expedition far more if his professor hadn’t dragged him out on such short notice. Most likely, she had seen that his schedule wasn’t as busy for the next few days and roped him into a project of ‘great academic importance’. Time that would have been spent doing whatever he wanted to at home had been replaced by sweltering weathers and endless scribing of ancient tomes.

Fate was a truly cruel force. Especially so when it separated him from you without warning. At the thought of his partner, he recalled how he announced his departure. He had to leave that same day, and you had already left for work, so he scrawled a note and left it on the table for you to look at when you returned.

My professor has taken me on an research expedition last minute. I’ll be back in 2 days time. I’ll make it up to you.

Kuni.

Perhaps he would come back to see the same annoyance he had when dealing with Mir on your face at such a lukewarm message.

There was an inexplicable weight in his body when he walked. A dragging emotion that humans would probably label as tiredness. He needed to get home and fast. If he did arrive to a grumpy partner, he wouldn’t mind it. You were the only person who was actually worth dealing with in his eyes.

He looked around. The sun had retreated behind the horizon, and there were only a few people mingling around the street he was on. Perfect. It was empty enough for him to not cause a spectacle. Wind kicked up around him as he swiftly launched upwards, flying high above roofs. This would certainly cut his commute time in half. Quietly, he navigated the familiar streets towards home.

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Dots of yellow emerged below from hanging lamps across the city. The residents of Sumeru were preparing for the night, whether in revelry or idleness. The latter suited you more, as you began to unwind from a day of work and waited for Wanderer to arrive. The news that he needed to leave had surprised and saddened you a little. You were looking forward to spending more time with him over these few days when he wasn’t so busy with classes. If he kept to the words he wrote on that note, however, he would somehow make it up to you.

You held onto that hope as you folded clothes to be put away in the bedroom. Lost in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice movement outside as Wanderer approached the window on the second storey. Putting his face closer to the stained glass, your figure was rendered in an orange hue as he peered in. He tapped against the window with a finger.

You jumped with a yelp, turning towards the source of the disruption.

Honestly, you would have welcomed his arrival more warmly if the sight before you wasn’t so unexpected. Now, you couldn’t help but let out an incredulous laugh. Your boyfriend was hovering outside your bedroom window, staring at you like a rain-soaked cat waiting to be let inside.

You hurried towards the window, but didn’t reach out to open it just yet. Instead, you placed your hands on your hips, cocking your head to the side.

“We have a front door for a reason, you know.”

Even though your voice was muffled, he heard how you spoke in a sing-song manner.

“Well, I’m not at the front door now, am I?” He replied, matter-of-factly. “Mind opening up?”

Gesturing for him to step away a little, you unlatched the window and swung the glass outwards. Cool air immediately washed over your face, tickling your skin. He could hear the mild offense in your voice crystal clear now,

“I cannot believe this is how I’m being greeted after such a sudden departure-“

Your sentence cut off short as the wind got knocked out you.

Your boyfriend crashing into you mid-flight was a quick way to shut you up.

The force caused you to stumble back, falling to sit on the edge of the bed. Only then did the surprise settle in at what he was doing.

Wanderer had you in a tight hug.

Somewhat awkwardly, he was half-sitting in your lap, half-sitting on the bed. Shaking out of your stupor, you encircled your arms around his shoulders. Wanderer let his body fall limp, his feet now on solid ground. He buried his face in your neck.

“A-are you-”

“Don’t say a single word.” He said, voice low in warning. Though, the threat had little weight behind it with how he nuzzled into the hug.

Wanderer didn’t need to breathe to survive, but he had learned to inhale and exhale largely so that others wouldn’t gawk at him for his lack of breathing (he had honestly stopped doing it because of how bothersome it was to keep such a façade. However, after some convincing from Nahida about the necessity to get along with his peers, he begrudgingly adopted the habit once again). For you, it served another purpose. Clearly something or someone had riled him up earlier because his breathing had initially been huffed and short. Now, as he settled against your body, you felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, breaths slow and intentional.

“It’s only been 2 days, Kuni,” you pointed out with a soft chuckle.

His violet hair tickled your skin as he shifted his head, propping his chin up on your shoulder. Perhaps it was intentional that he kept his face out of your line of sight.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “I know.”

“Then why are you acting like you haven’t seen me in months?”

Wanderer scoffed loudly. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

It was a shame you couldn’t see his face, for the way he closed his eyes and scrunched his nose in embarrassment at his own clinginess would’ve given you weeks of material to poke fun at him for.

“I think you do because I haven’t the faintest idea why you’re acting like this.”

There was no way he was falling for the fake, sugary innocence in your tone. You were an unstoppable force and he an immovable object. He chose to remain silent as you continued,

“Oh well, I guess I should go and finish folding these clothes if it’s nothing important.”

Abruptly, you removed your arms from him and went to stand. However, the grasp Wanderer had around your waist meant you could barely even move. Even bending over proved to be fruitless for you.

“Those chores can wait,” he muttered, interlocking his fingers together to hold you in place.

Despite knowing that you were messing with him, a small part of him was irritated that you even considered putting such a menial task above him.

You giggled at how touchy he was being. Your boyfriend could hardly come up with a word of affection without looking like he was going to combust, but would stop at nothing at the chance to hold you. You raised a hand to pat his head, smoothing his hair down. Every grievance he had over the past 2 days melted away with each pass of your hand. Archons, he even started to feel like he went a bit too harsh on Mir.

“Don’t worry,” Wanderer could hear the smile on your face as you began gently combing his hair between your fingertips. “I missed you too.”

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[r4di0h3ad]

just practice part 2

part 1!

pairings! bsf!jj x reader

in which! you cant stop thinking about the night you lost your virginity to jj…. even though you have a boyfriend

warnings! 18+ smut. cheating. fingering. oral sex (m. recieving) pnv sex. unprotected sex. not proof read.

it had been two months since you lost your virginity to jj and almost a month and a half since you started officially dating your new boyfriend.

he was nice. he took you out to eat once a week, he bought you small gifts, he complimented you and you never argued. but the sex was just…bad. it was always over way too quickly and he never payed any attention to your body or what you wanted. you figured he was just one of those boys who was too scared to go down on a girl, which was fine, but it probably wouldn’t suit you in the long run.

you hadn’t been hanging around your friends very often, usually turning them down to go out with your boyfriend and jj was getting increasingly frustrated with this.

but every time you were around your friends, jj in particular, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. when you talked to him, all you thought about was the way he called you baby when he came on your stomach and the way he made you cum on his face. you felt so completely guilty for these thoughts, but nothing would stop them. you figured the best plan of action was to avoid him. not entirely, but just try not to be around him alone.

but, you did end up alone with jj by mistake one afternoon.

you had just finished surfing with kie as the swell had come in that day. you both planned to stay at the beach a little longer, but you were hungry and didn’t have any food. kie decided to go pick up something from the heyward’s shop and you went back to the chateau to grab a six pack, only to find jj working on his bike, his shirt off and his shorts dirty, probably from engine oil.

you didn’t say anything as you walked up the steps to the porch, but jj noticed you and called out.

“hey, y/n!” he yelled, wiping his hands off on a towel and throwing it on his bike. “thought you were gonna stay at the shore until later?”

you were in your damp bikini top and bottoms and a pair of sandals. you turned around at the sound of his voice and met his gaze.

“yeah..” you said. awkwardly. “i am, i was just grabbing some beers.” you turn back around, pulling open the screen door and stepping inside. once you’re in the kitchen with the refrigerator door cracked, you hear jj come into the château after you.

“what’s going on with you?” he asks, standing in the living room. you shut the refrigerator and look over at him with furrowed brows.

“what do you mean?” you question, although you knew exactly what he meant. you didn’t expect the confrontation to happen now of all times.

“don’t act like you don’t know.” he crosses his arms over his chest. “you’ve been weird around me ever since we..”

you didn’t want to hear him say it.

“jj, i’ve just been hanging around my boyfriend a lot,” you try to defend yourself, hoping he’ll stop questioning you. “i’m sorry i haven’t been talking to you. ‘been busy.”

he nods, biting his lip and looking down at the floor.

“do you regret it?” he asks, looking back up at you.

“what?” you shake your head. “no, i just-“

“you promised you wouldn’t make things weird between us and now you barely even talk to me.” jj said. “you sure i didn’t do something wrong?”

“no jj!” your voice raised slightly. “i-“ you cut yourself off, not knowing what to say. “it’s just that every time i try and talk to you, i think about what we did.” you blurt out, almost making it sound like you both murdered someone and hid the body. you made it sound like a crime, and it pogue rules, it technically was. “i thought that avoiding you was gonna take my mind off it until i got over it.”

he walks closer to the kitchen, tossing his hat somewhere on the counter.

“so you do regret it?” he questions, leaning against the counter and looking straight at you.

you shake your head no.

“i don’t, but it’s kind of wrong of me to think about you while my boyfriend’s fucking me.”

you realized what you said after it had already left your mouth and your eyes widened.

“what’d you say?” he asks, cocking his head a little at your admission, a barely visible smile playing on his lips.

“uh-“

you quickly turn around to open the fridge again, looking for some beers to take and get the hell up out of there.

“no, say it again.” jj pulls your arm, twisting you back around to face him so that your bodies were dangerously close together. your face flushed with embarrassment and your heart was thumping out of your chest.

“jj,” you say, shrugging off his touch. “i really gotta go back to the shore.” you say, but you weren’t moving. jj knew that wasn’t what you really wanted.

“i’m not stopping you.” he pulled back from you and leaned against the counter once again, showing that you had free will to leave, but you still didn’t budge. your feet were glued in place.

you wanted to kiss him so bad and get that ridiculous smile off his lips, but the thought of your boyfriend who did little to please you was the only thing that was keeping you from doing it. you bit the inside of your cheek, nervously. the tension between you two was going to make your head explode.

“he doesn’t fuck you like i do, does he?”

his words were your final straw.

you grabbed both sides of his face and instantly connected you lips with his. he kissed you back without a second thought, wrapping his arms around your waist. he backed you into the refrigerator as his lips moved perfectly with yours.

his fingers trailed down your hips and to your clothed core. he pulled away from the kiss to look at you, silently asking for permission for him to touch you, and you gave it.

still having you against the refrigerator’s surface, he skillfully moved your bikini bottoms to the side as two of his fingers sunk into your entrance. you were embarrassingly soaked already. you fight back a moan as he pulled out of you, just to slide right back in, hitting the spot he knew you needed.

“all this and i’ve barely even touched you?” he mocked, taking his fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. he looked you in the eyes as he sucked your slickness from his fingers. your lips were parted as you watched, desperately needing his hands on you again.

he then picked you up, his hands hooked under your thighs. you giggled as he carried you to the bedroom, kicking the door closed.

he gently placed you on the bed and reconnected his lips with yours, his tongue swiping yours. you reached to work on his belt, swiftly undoing it and pulling it off while never breaking the kiss. you slid his shorts down, his boxers barely hiding his desperation for you.

you palm him through the fabric, eliciting a groan from him against your lips that you needed to hear more of.

you sunk to your knees in front of him, yanking his boxers down and allowing his painfully hard cock to spring free. you took him in your hand, pumping a few times before your tongue poked through your lips to lick a long stripe from the base of his shaft to the tip.

he gently grabbed your hair, trying to pull you away, but you licked him again, which loosened his grip.

“you don’t have to-“ his eyes rolled back as you finally took him all in your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks as you sucked his cock. your hands were placed on his knees. the moan you heard from him encouraged you to keep going, although his tip was hitting the back of your throat and you were trying hard not to gag. “fuck- baby, you don’t have to do this.”

you pull him from your mouth, a string of spit connecting your lips with his tip.

“i want to.” you say before taking him in your mouth again. he tries to keep his eyes locked with yours, but his head falls back in pleasure, his fingers lacing into your hair.

you only knew how to do this because your boyfriend showed you. you had to keep your eyes closed the whole time so you could pretend it was jj.

his breathing was getting heavier with each rise and fall of his chest as soft moans and strings of curses fell from his lips. he couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, forcing his cock farther into your mouth. there were tears brimming your eyes as you tried to focus on pleasuring him.

“fuck- m’not gonna last much longer like this.” he said.

you kept going, desperately wanting to bring him over the edge, but he pulled your hair back, taking you off of him.

“gotta stop you, princess.” he grabbed your hands and helped you up from your knees. you sat on the bed, pouting. he stood over you, brushing your hair out of your face and noticing your change of attitude. “didn’t wanna cum like that.”

as much as you wished you could make him cum by sucking him off, you couldn’t complain now that he was giving you attention.

his hands guided themselves to your waist, where he then told you to turn around so you were now on your hands and knees, your ass facing him. he was still standing as he held your hips from the edge of the bed. you felt his tip at your entrance.

“this okay?” he asked.

you give him a yes, and then you feel him slowly enter you. it felt so much different than when he had been on top of you before. there was a slight pain due to how much deeper he could push into you from this angle, but the pain melted into pleasure within seconds.

he pulled out just to drive himself back into you. his pace was slow until you adjusted to the position, and then he steadily began going faster. his fingers dug into the sides of your ass, pulling you into him with every thrust.

as he went harder, you gripped the sheets and stuffed your face into the mattress under you, trying to keep yourself quiet, but you couldn’t stop the moans that escaped your lips.

“fuck-“ jj cursed under his breath, his grip on you getting even harder. “feel so good, can’t get enough of this pussy”

his words brought you closer and his pace increased. you could feel him getting tenser, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“could have you like this every day if i could- shit.”

you were almost over the edge, the knot in your stomach threatening to undo.

“fuck- m’gonna cum princess” he moaned.

his last thrusts were deep and slow and they led you into perfect ecstasy. you came undone around his cock, moaning into the sheets right in time for him to pull out and finish on your back- your name leaving his mouth with curses and moans.

your body was limp when he cleaned your back with a towel, still in a haze from your orgasm.

“you okay?” he asked, running a hand down the middle of your back, feeling the ridges of your spine.

you nodded and sat up, grabbing your bikini from the floor and slipping it back on.

“kie is gonna kill me.” you say, slipping your sandals on your feet. “she’s not gonna believe any excuse i try to give her.”

“i’ll drive you down there.” jj offered. “i mean- are your legs alright to walk all the way to the shore or-“

you threw his shirt at his face and scoffed at him.

you had agreed to let him drive you to the beach while you fixed your hair in the visor mirror, trying to make yourself look presentable. although the whole way there you could only think about the words he said while he fucked you. you had no idea if he meant it or if it was just a thing he said in the moment. and this definitely wasn’t going to help save your thoughts about your boyfriend.

a/n: don’t know if i will write a part 3 to this, but requests are open for any jj or rafe fic!

tag list! (comment or message to be added or removed!)

@ifilwtmfc @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @xcallmetaniax @moondustedlily @x-0-madi-0-x @tumb1rgir1z

[bucksangel]

run little bunny

pairing: softdark!ceo!bucky x naive!assistant!reader

word count: 8.6k

summary: Being John Walker’s assistant is hard; he’s mean, disrespectful, misogynistic, the whole nine yards. On top of that, he hardly pays you fairly. So, when you’re fired for a mistake you’re sure wasn’t your fault, you’re at risk of being kicked out by your rude roommates. Luckily for you, James Barnes, a wildly successful CEO, has found his way into your life. And he’s going to take such good care of you.

warnings: where do i even start, 18+, minors DNI and i fucking mean it, mild coercion, some of it could be interpreted as stalking, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, sir kink, oral (f receiving), housewife kink, breeding kink, pet names (bunny, darling), dirty talk, dom!bucky and sub!reader, choking, squirting, basically just absolute filth, a little hurt-comfort, reader’s roommates are awful and mean, not john walker friendly but when am i ever

a/n: so this was supposed to just be some quick smut but as always i went overboard, so please enjoy! likes and comments are appreciated, reblogs are even better!

tip jar | main masterlist | ao3 | run little bunny masterlist

Your hands are shaking slightly, your heartbeat races with anxiety, and your leg bounces rapidly. Today is an important day after all, and your boss has made it clear that if you mess up in any way then he’d have to rethink your employment. That sent dread flooding through your body, so you’ve been preparing yourself for the last week to make sure everything for the meeting is perfect.

And, on the technical side, everything is immaculate - mostly due to you staying up until almost midnight each night to polish the presentation. You thought everything was done properly, but when you’d walked into the building that morning your boss was holed up in his office finishing up his portion of the work, so you’d decided to simply email him to let him know that you had arrived.

Everything was perfect. But when you get into the meeting room, your boss’ eyes go wide, anger clouding them while he scowls. You quickly make your way to his side, only for him to bark out a command for you to grab water for his incoming guests. Placing your notebook on the table, you turn to scurry off to the side to grab the glasses, but you’re stopped when your boss grabs your arm harshly.

“Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Um… Um, I-“ Your boss raises an eyebrow, and you feel like you might throw up from the sudden anxiety. “No, sir.”

He scoffs, muttering under his breath something about looking “trashy,” before releasing you and allowing you to go to the minibar.

Your arm stings, no doubt sporting a red mark because of how harsh the grip was. You’re also confused because you thought the floral dress you’d chosen was pretty. Sure, it may not be high class, but your boss has never had a problem with it before, but you’re assuming that he’s on edge due to who he’s meeting with.

James Barnes; the most powerful and successful CEO in the entire country. You haven’t met him personally, but from what you hear you know that he’s not someone you want to upset. According to the hushed whispers around the office, he stands at a towering 6’6, tattoos cover his arms and hands, and if he frowns then you better move out of the way.

Would Mr. Barnes be upset with your attire?

You desperately hope not, because you need this job. While you can barely make your rent and utilities, you don’t have any other job lined up, and you’re way too scared to ask for a raise from a man who so clearly disrespects you. For right now, though, you’re stuck.

The oak doors open, and one of the office assistants steps off to the side while holding the door open for several men to walk in. You hear him before you see him. You’ve never heard his voice, but the commanding tone he uses when he addresses your boss lets you know that it must be him.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” Mr. Barnes greets him, and you can hear your boss stand and greet him as well.

You’re trying your hardest to keep calm while you walk toward the table with a platter holding several glasses of water. You do your best to place them in front of the men without showing how nervous you are.

But when you get to Mr. Barnes, you nearly spill the drink all over the table once you get a whiff of his clearly expensive cologne. Oh, how you’d love to be surrounded by that scent, the woodsy smell almost intimidates you but you’re unsure as to why you don’t mind.

You’ve never done anything even remotely sexual with a man, you’re far too awkward and anxious in a way that isn’t too appealing to many, but for a very brief moment, you wonder what he looks like underneath the black three-piece suit — the prominent veins on his hands insinuates that the rest of his body is probably just as toned. But you’re immediately snapped out of your thoughts by your boss’ harsh voice calling your name.

“Aren’t you going to greet our guests?”

You breathe in sharply, heat flooding your face as you stumble your way through an apology and a polite “Hello, Mr. Barnes.”

You’re about to leave his side when he reaches out to grasp your hand — surprisingly gentle for such a powerful man. With a slight jump, you glance over to your boss who’s staring at you as though you’re becoming a nuisance and should quickly get back to your chair beside his. But you can’t, both because of Mr. Barnes’ hold and the fact that when you look back at the man in front of you his ocean-blue eyes pull you in, and you’re unable to break your gaze.

“And who might you be, darling?” His eyes twinkle with mischief but you’re too blind to see it, you’re too flustered to really focus.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about her, she’s just –”

“I wasn’t asking you,” Mr. Barnes snaps, briefly glancing at your boss and not bothering to hide his smirk when he almost visibly cowers. “Now, darling,” he continues, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “What’s your name?”

You nearly squeak, having to force yourself to tell him your name before he gets upset with your lack of answer.

Mr. Barnes hums, then brings your hand up so he can place a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You flounder for a moment, unsure as to what to make of the compliment. You don’t have much time to overthink it because this meeting has a time limit and you’re sure your boss would prefer to get this over with.

“Th-Thank you, sir.” You’re not sure why, but your voice is breathy because something about that word — sir — just feels right for him, though you’re not sure what it means.

“So polite,” He mumbles to himself, and his eyes seem to grow darker. Finally, he lets you go, shooting you a wink and smirking to himself when you scurry off to sit next to your boss.

The presentation went relatively smoothly — thank God. You don’t know what you would have done if anything went wrong. In fact, Mr. Barnes seemed extremely invested in what you had to say, catching your gaze several times and causing you to stumble over your words a few times, only for your boss to clear his throat and glare at you. Eventually, Mr. Barnes throws him his own glare, silently telling him to shut up, to which your boss finally does.

Once the meeting was declared to be over, you were quick to close your notebook and tuck your pen behind your ear, then you went around the table and started collecting the now-empty glasses. As you’re running around the room trying to clean up, you can feel a powerful gaze boring holes into your body, but you try not to pay it any mind. It’s probably just your boss anyway.

But when you turn away from the desk to finally leave, you bump into Mr. Barnes, your body nearly slamming into his very sturdy chest. His hands shoot to your hips almost immediately, helping to steady yourself.

The warmth of his body pulls you in, but that might also be because Mr. Barnes is literally bringing you closer to his chest by the hold he has on your hips. And that’s when you realize that your hands are clutching his shoulders, but you can’t find it in you to let go.

“What’s the rush?” He asks playfully, his upper lip quirking up in a smirk. “You’re running around like a little bunny.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing, you recognize that he’s just teasing, but something in you doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“Mr. Barnes.” He hums, his eyes briefly glancing down to your lips. “I like it when you call me that.”

Now you’re really flustered, your face heats up and you have to do everything in your power not to faint — the way his voice deepens is doing something to you and you don’t know how to handle it.

“I’d like it a lot more if you called me James, though. Can you do that for me, bunny?” 

“Ye-Yes, James.” You might have been embarrassed about how quick you were to answer him, but the way he closes his eyes and tightens the hold he has on your body you’re thinking it was the right decision.

Mr. Barnes — James — opens his mouth again, but is interrupted by the door being opened by one of the office assistants, whose eyes immediately go wide in shock. It seems to take a second for her to gather her bearings, but she recovers soon enough.

“Mr. Walker is requesting you,” She tells you, glancing over at James and giving him a nervous smile. “He says you have to file all of the paperwork for the meeting.”

You sigh, you’re tired of having to do everything for your boss only for him to take credit ninety percent of the time. But, it’s what you’re paid to do, so you suck it up. 

Looking back to James, you give him a shy smile, reluctantly removing your hands from his shoulders. 

“Um, I guess I should go, James.” You’re a little sad, and you don’t quite know why having to leave him and go back to your duties makes you so anxious. It could be because Mr. Walker is mean, or maybe because James makes you feel safe. In reality, it’s probably a mixture of both.

“I guess you should,” He murmurs, removing one of his large hands from your waist so he can cup the back of your neck and pull you closer, only for him to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

And absolutely no one can blame you for the quiet whimper that leaves your lips, even though you are surprised by your reaction. It doesn’t matter though, because he finally moves back, letting go of you and reaching into the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket so he can pull out what looks like a business card.

“Here,” James says, handing it to you. “In case you ever want to talk, you’re always free to call me.”

“What would we talk about?” Your confusion causes James to chuckle, and he seems amused by your naivety.

“Whatever you want, Bunny. Whether you just want to talk about nonsense or vent about your boss. Doesn’t matter to me as long as I get to hear your beautiful voice.”

With that, he gives you a wink, then turns to the door and leaves, though he does glance back at you. With one final smile, he leaves, and you’re left with a million racing thoughts while standing in the middle of the meeting room.

It took three days for you to finally reach out to James. As soon as you got home that night you ran to your bedroom and added his number to your phone, going so far as to put his business card in your bedside table drawer so you wouldn’t lose it. It just took a little time to gain the courage to actually contact him. After all, what if he was just being friendly? You’ve never met anyone quite like him, so it’s hard to read into his actions.

But today had gone horribly. The café you frequent before work was so busy that you didn’t have time to grab your coffee without being extremely late, the bistro you were demanded to pick up lunch from was closed — and while it wasn’t your fault, Mr. Walker certainly seemed to think it was. Your workload was piled high and by the end of the day, you were on the verge of crying due to the stress and mean comments thrown at you by your boss.

You need a shoulder to lean on and, unfortunately for you, you don’t have anyone else to go to. You’re pretty sure your roommates hate you and only let you live with them because they haven’t found a new roommate yet, you don’t have siblings and your parents are states away, and you have maybe a few friends, but even then the communication is scarce.

You need a shoulder to lean on, and James offered his, so you finally decided to pull up his contact and start a new message. It takes several minutes to figure out what to say, but you eventually settle on something simple.

Hi, James. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Mr. Walker’s assistant. You gave me your number in case I ever wanted to talk.

You hit send and stare down at your phone anxiously as you wait for a reply. A minute goes by, then two, suddenly five, and then you’re starting to regret texting him, what if he doesn’t remember you? What if he’s busy? What if – 

Your phone starts ringing, James’ name popping up on the screen and taunting you — almost commanding you to answer.

“Hello?”

“Good evening, bunny,” James says softly, and if you press your ear close enough to your phone you could pretend that he’s right next to you.

“Hi, James. I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Your voice is soft and timid, you’d hate to disrupt anything he’s doing.

“Don’t be silly, bunny,” He says, his smile evident in his tone. “I always have time for you.”

“Oh, um. Thank you, sir.” It’s almost indescribable, but you can just make out the soft curse James lets out, followed by some shuffling.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

You’re a little apprehensive, but with James’ gentle encouragement, you’re able to get everything off your chest, complaining about your day and everything that went wrong. Each word spoken feels like weights lifting off of your shoulders, allowing you to breathe easier every time James hums. He doesn’t interrupt you, which you greatly appreciate, and by the time you’re done, you fall backward onto your bed, relieved.

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day, bunny,” James coos with his smooth-as-honey voice, filling your body with warmth and comfort. “A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be treated like that.” That comment floods your face with heat and you shuffle up the bed to lean against the headboard.

“Oh, I - thank you, sir.” There it is again, sir. James exhales slowly as though he’s trying to control himself from doing something he shouldn’t, and part of you is momentarily worried that you’ve upset him somehow. You don’t want to disappoint him.

“What can I do to help?”

What can he do to help? You’re not quite sure, you’re not sad, and you’re not angry, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t need at least a hug right now. But, it would be too imposing to ask, right? There’s no way he would be willing to come over – that is, if your roommates would even allow him over. And he certainly wouldn’t invite a stranger into his house. So, you lie to him.

“Oh – Oh, no, James, I don’t – you don’t have to – it’s fine –”

“Bunny.”

Your mouth promptly closes, taking a deep breath through your nose and exhaling slowly.

“Sorry, James.”

“Don’t be sorry, bunny.” There’s some shuffling in the background as he talks and you can’t help but sigh at how sincere his voice is. “Now, what can I do to help?” And before you can even open your mouth he’s talking again, “Don’t say nothing, because I know there’s something you want.”

You’re silent for a moment, stewing over how to tell him. But, he’ll probably just be empathetic and say something along the lines of ‘I’d hug you if I were there right now’. So, you decide to just spit it out.

“I guess I just want… I just need a hug, I think,” You sigh, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness. It’s hard not having anyone to talk to, to be isolated even from the people you live with, to be put down time and time again, and not have anyone to support you.

“Where are you?” James asks, and you hear some more shuffling in the background, followed by the jingling of what sounds like keys.

“I’m at my apartment,” You say, confused. He couldn’t possibly be coming over, could he?

“Send me your address and I’ll come pick you up, we’ll go out for ice cream,” James says decisively, and you can tell he doesn’t want any protesting. “Bunny,” He says when you don’t say anything. “You need cheering up and I’m here to do just that. Please send me your address.” He speaks gently but once again, he doesn’t seem to want you to argue against it.

“O-Okay, I will.”

“Good, I’ll see you soon, bunny.” When you bid him goodbye, he hangs up, and you’re quick to send him your address, giving him instructions to text you when he arrives so you can meet him out front of the building.

During the next twenty or so minutes you’re practically running around your room trying to make yourself look presentable. You cried all of your makeup off so you opt to just wash the rest of it off, and then you pull your hair back and away from your face. It takes a bit to decide what to wear, after all this is just a friend taking another friend to get ice cream, but this is also James Barnes; he has more wealth than you could possibly imagine. You want to impress him and appear grateful for his friendliness, and looking at least half-decent would achieve that.

Finally, someone knocks on your door, yelling, “Someone’s here for you!”

With a rush of excitement, you grab your phone and wallet and slip on your shoes, then make your way out of your room to the front door where another roommate is standing in front of it, leaning against the frame and giggling at the person.

James.

He looks bored, almost like he’s trying to appear interested but can’t quite muster up the energy to do so. When you approach, he lifts his head, a wide smile crossing his face.

“There’s my little bunny,” He says confidently, completely ignoring your annoyed roommate. “Come on, let’s get you cheered up.”

With that you walk to him, timidly accepting his outstretched hand and letting him gently tug you into the hallway. When you turn around to tell your roommate that you’ll be back later you can’t even get a word out before you see her glaring at you and shutting the door — the click of the lock is audible through the empty hallway.

“Are they always like that?” James asks with a tone that conveys concern.

“Like what?” You know what he’s talking about, but you hate acknowledging it.

“Rude and disrespectful.” He is so blunt that it causes you to look down in embarrassment to avoid his intense gaze.

Yes, you want to say, they’re awful. You want to shout from the rooftops that your roommates are horrible to you, but you’re just too scared to do it.

“Oh – Oh, no, they’re just…” You trail off, peeking up at James to see the disbelief in his eyes. When you look down again, he brings up one of his hands to cup your cheek and guide your head up so you can look at him head-on.

“You don’t need to lie to me, bunny. I want you to trust me.” James sighs, leaning forward and placing a small kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” He squeezes your hand, smiling softly at you as he starts walking you out of the building and to his car.

It doesn’t take long to get to the ice cream shop, only a five-minute drive, and when you get there James keeps the car locked as he gets out so he can circle around to your side and open your door for you.

“Th-Thank you,” You say as you put your hand in James’ outstretched one, letting him guide you out of the car. He keeps his hold on your hand as you walk into the shop, going so far as to thread your fingers together while you wait in line.

The image of your hand encompassed by James’ large tattooed one has your tummy fluttering with butterflies. But, you must have been staring for a little too long because you’re broken out of your trance by James gently squeezing your hand.

“Is this okay, bunny?”

“Yes!” Heat floods your face as soon as you say it, feeling embarrassed by how quick you were to answer. “I, I mean. Um… Yes, it’s okay.”

James smirks at you, clearly enjoying how flustered you are. But, before you can stew in your shame, the man behind the counter says, “Next!”

You walk up to the counter, letting James order before giving yours. And when it’s time to pay, James doesn’t even drop your hand while he fishes his wallet out of his pocket and takes out his card. Your tummy flutters once again.

“Come, bunny.”

With your desserts now in hand, James leads you to a corner booth, only letting go of your hand so you can scoot in. He sits across from you, looking at you with what can only be described as thinly veiled hunger. It’s not off-putting, you just don’t know what it means.

“So, um…” You trail off looking down at your bowl of ice cream, fiddling with the spoon they gave you.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bunny,” James coos, reaching over and placing his hand palm up on the table, and you’re helpless but to take it, practically aching to feel his warmth again. “Now, other than everything that happened today, how have you been?”

It’s surprisingly easy to fall into a pleasant conversation with him, he asks questions and lets you finish talking before adding his own input, and he doesn’t break eye contact. It feels like he’s really listening to what you’re saying, and it’s almost freeing to have someone in your corner, someone you can trust and depend on.

What feels like far too soon, though has probably been several hours due to how dark it is outside, the man behind the counter comes to your table to tell you that they’re closing soon, and you can’t help but be sad. You’re enjoying James’ company far more than you probably should since you’ve only known him for a handful of days. It almost seems like you’ve known him your whole life.

“Well, bunny. I guess it’s time to go,” James says remorsefully, getting up out of the booth and reaching out his hand to help you out of the booth as well. He keeps holding your hand while you walk out of the door — making sure to throw away your trash on the way out.

James insists on opening the car door for you again — ever the gentleman. There’s a comfortable silence on the drive back to your apartment, your stomach swirling the entire time because James refuses to drop your hand. But when you get to your apartment building, a small amount of anxiety settles inside you, and you’re desperately hoping your roommates are asleep because you don’t feel like dealing with them after you’ve had such a good evening.

The silence is a little more tense while you ride the elevator up to your floor, but you’re grounded by James’ touch. It’s not until you get to your front door that you really look at him, staring into his twinkling eyes. And when he smiles, it settles your nerves.

“I guess this is the end of our night, bunny,” He says, squeezing your hand one last time before dropping it. Before you can mourn the loss of his touch he’s wrapping you in his arms and pulling you close to his chest, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hear the squeak you let out. You wrap your arms around his waist, letting James tuck your face into his neck while he holds you close.

“I had a wonderful time tonight,” James murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“Me too,” You say softly, breathing in and inhaling his comforting scent. “Thank you for cheering me up.”

“Of course, bunny. I’m always here for you.” Then, James pulls his head back so he can look into your eyes. “Always.”

You can’t help but smile. His gaze is hypnotizing, pulling you in and almost refusing to let you go.

“Thank you, James,” You breathe out, and one last time, James squeezes you and kisses your forehead, then steps back.

“I’ll talk to you soon, bunny?” James asks, smiling wide.

“Y–Yeah, I’ll text you. Or you can text me. Or call, that’s–that’s fine too.” Heat floods your face in embarrassment, but you don’t feel too bad about it because James only smiles wider, nodding once.

“I will.”

“Goodnight, James.” With that, you turn and unlock your door, turning around to look at James one last time as you shut the door.

“Goodnight bunny, I hope you have dreams as sweet as you are.” James winks, and you swear you can hear him chuckle when you squeak out an “o-okay,” and shut the door.

And maybe James is some kind of wizard because you have the best night of sleep you’ve had in a while.

For the next few weeks you and James text almost every day, and talk on the phone every couple of days. You’ve met up with him a few times as well, accepting his invitations to lunch or coffee. Each outing would last for several hours, too enraptured by his… everything to be the one to suggest the night should end. You’ve come to trust him, you know with a possibly concerning amount of certainty that James would do everything possible to keep you happy and safe.

Roughly a month and a half after meeting James, you’re sitting on your bed in the same position you were in when you first called him crying. Unlike last time, though, you don’t hesitate to call him. He’s told you time and time again that it doesn’t even matter if he’s in a meeting, he’ll always make time for you. You just hope that’s true.

He picks up almost immediately.

“Hello, bunny,” James says with the same soft tone he always uses when talking to you.

“H-hi, James,” You manage to say, before breaking out into sobs. You’re nearly hyperventilating, trying and failing to catch your breath between hiccups, and it takes a few minutes to calm down enough to hear rustling in the background on James’ end.

“Are you at home?” He asks with the utmost concern.

“Ye-Yes.”

“Stay there,” He says, using what you’ve deemed his CEO voice. “I’m coming to get you.”

“Ja–”

“Bunny.”

You sigh, knowing you can’t change his mind – not that you really want him to. You could really benefit from a hug right about now and James always provides the best ones.

“Can you at least stay on the phone with me?” Your voice is small, still sniffling every few words. You don’t think you could handle being alone with your own thoughts right now.

“Of course. You know I’ll do anything for you.”

It takes James twenty minutes to get to you, and he talks to you the whole time, just menial things to get your mind off of your sadness. When he lets you know that he’s at your apartment, you don’t even wait for him to tell you he’s coming up, you simply grab your jacket and slip on your shoes, then run to the front door without so much as a word to your roommates in the living room.

“James!” Upon seeing the man himself standing next to his car, you fling yourself into his arms, taking deep breaths to prevent yourself from crying in public. “Thank you for coming.”

“Bunny, how many times do I have to tell you that I’ll do whatever it takes to keep a smile on your pretty face?” James’ tone is teasing, but you know he’s serious if his stern and concerned gaze is anything to go by.

You nod, blinking back tears. It’s so nice to have a friend like James Barnes; kind, chivalrous, attentive. With the way he acts sometimes, you’d almost think he’s interested in more than friendship, but you always shake that thought off. He’s too handsome and wealthy to date some random personal assistant who’s barely able to make her rent.

“Come on, bunny,” James moves back but keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, leading you to his car and helping you in. Like always, he waits for you to sit so he can strap you in your seatbelt, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before shutting the door then running around to the driver's seat.

This time, instead of taking a left at the light at the end of your block, he keeps going forward, taking turns until you’re not exactly sure where you are.

“Um, where are we going?”

“My house,” James says casually, briefly glancing at you so he can give you that ever-soft smile.

“But, isn’t your house only twenty minutes away?” You’re confused, and a little curious as to what he’s talking about.

“I only stay there when I have meetings in the city. I have a house a little further out where I live most of the time. It’s a little more lived-in, so I want to bring you there where you’ll feel a little more…” James pauses for a moment, glancing at you again. “At home.” His explanation makes sense in your brain, quickly squashing any nerves that you had. He’s rich, so of course he’d have multiple houses.

It’s almost an hour long drive to get to his house. Well, house feels like an inappropriate term for what it actually is. It’s more like a mansion, standing tall at three stories, a long driveway with trees lining either side of the road, and a luscious garden surrounding the property.

James helps you out of the car and guides you up the steps to the front door, where he unlocks it and lets you step inside. The moment you pass through the threshold your jaw nearly drops to the floor; a large chandelier hangs from the ceiling right when you step in and beautiful artwork adorns the walls. The open floor plan gives you a good view of the living room and kitchen from your vantage point, and you can’t wait to sink into the luxurious and almost comically large couch in front of the TV.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” James urges you further in, bringing you to the living room.

“Um, just water is fine.” You look up at him, smiling shyly and nearly tripping when he smiles back.

“I’ll be right back,” James says, watching as you sit and sink into the plush couch. “Make yourself at home.” The look in his eyes when he says it sparks something inside you, something warm and fuzzy. Thinking of James’ house as your home makes your tummy flutter, but you don’t understand why.

God, you need to get it together.

You’re left alone for a moment, and everything is quiet except for the fridge opening and the glasses clinking. James’ absence allows you a moment to breathe properly, being with him always leaves you flustered, though you can’t deny that some part of you likes it. You like his commanding nature, how deep his voice gets when he talks passionately about something, how warm his embrace is when he holds you for what might be a little too long, squeezing you like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“Here you go, bunny.” Suddenly, a glass of water appears in front of you, and you take it with a gracious smile and a small “thank you.”

“So,” He says, sitting next to you — really close — and throwing his arm over your shoulders, practically pulling you into his lap. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

Tears immediately spring to your eyes, suddenly remembering how horrible today was. You force yourself to take a couple of sips of your glass but your hand starts shaking enough to where James takes your glass and sets it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Bunny—“

His soft voice causes you to start crying, throwing yourself into his chest and burying your face in his neck as you sob out your troubles. James’ hand is warm on your back, rubbing it soothingly and squeezing you close to him. This time, he actually pulls you in his lap, you’re grasping the front of his sweater while he maneuvers your body so you’re straddling his thighs, and you can’t help but scoot closer so you’re sitting on him properly with your body flush against his.

A few minutes of crying later and your tears have finally slowed, your sobs deforming into hiccups until you calm down enough to hear James cooing into your ear, whispering sweet nothings. When you finally catch your breath, you pull back, staring up at James with wide eyes and a pout.

“I-I… I was fired! Fired! And I don’t know what I’m going to do! Mr. Walker just tossed me to the side because a document went missing and he blamed me, and now I’m jobless and my roommates are definitely going to kick me out because I can barely make my rent as it is. What am I going to do?”

James sighs, rubbing one hand up and down your back and keeping his other on your waist, though they manage to sneak up your shirt a little without your notice.

“I’m sorry, bunny,” He starts, giving you a comforting smile. “It’s awful that happened to you, and it’s not your fault, so don’t go blaming yourself like I know you want to.”

Your face goes warm with embarrassment. How is he able to read you so easily?

“And as far as your living situation, you’ll move in with me.”

“James!” Your eyebrows furrow, your head automatically shaking. “No, no I can’t do that to you. I don’t have a job anymore and I definitely can’t afford to pay you rent, I-I can’t burden you like that.” Even though it hurts to say it, you want to be honest with him. Because how on Earth are you supposed to pay him back for this?

“You’re not a burden.” You’re surprised by his angry tone, and his eyes darken as though he’s challenging you to say otherwise. “You’ll never be a burden on me, bunny. I’m offering you this, I don’t want you to pay me.”

As though he can sense your hesitation, he gives you a playful smirk.

“But if you really want to help, how about you do the cooking and cleaning? I don’t always get a good home-cooked meal, and it’d be nice to come back from work to see you in a cute little apron.”

This makes you giggle, a weight lifting off your shoulders when you nod timidly. “I-I can do that. I’ll do anything.”

And while you had pure intentions with that statement, James takes it differently, his eyes darkening even further as he nibbles at his bottom lip.

“Anything?” He smirks wider when you nod eagerly because that’s what you are. Always eager to please — especially please James.

“Yes, anything!”

James hums, seemingly thinking something over, before sliding one of his hands up the back of your shirt.

“How about you give me a kiss? I haven’t had a good one in a while,” While he sounds like he’s teasing, his face shows he’s anything but.

He really wants you to kiss him. And, well, it’s not like you’re going to deny him, you’re too grateful for his generosity. Plus, you’d be insane to pass up such an opportunity, he’s handsome, kind, and makes you feel safe. So, with only a little hesitation, you lean down and press your lips against his in a simple peck, but before you can pull away James groans, placing one hand on the back of your head to keep you steady.

His lips practically attack yours, his tongue invading your mouth and taking what it wants – you. You don’t even know it but you’re whimpering almost immediately, opening your mouth and letting James consume you whole. He’s smiling against your lips, biting your bottom lip as he retreats for a moment so he can stare up into your eyes.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny,” James whispers reverently like he’s hypnotized. And he’s not the only one. Your brain is quickly going silent, your sole focus is on James and how good he’s making you feel.

“Really?”

“So beautiful, I’ve always thought so.” His confession makes you whine, he thinks you’re beautiful, this gorgeous man with the deepest blue eyes you’ve ever seen. Suddenly, James curses softly, grabbing your waist under your shirt, and that’s when you realize you’ve started subconsciously moving your hips against his.

“S-Sorry,” You mumble, though you’re not too sorry considering you can’t stop rolling down onto his lap, it feels too good.

“Don’t be.” James hums thoughtfully, leaning forward slightly and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Why don’t we go to my room? It’ll be more comfortable.”

You don’t even wait for him to finish before you start eagerly nodding your head, adjusting your legs as he stands so you can wrap them around his waist. He carries you to his room, smirking to himself the entire time because you can’t stop kissing and biting his neck in the hopes of leaving a mark, staking your claim. When you finally get there, James quickly shuts the door behind him and then drops you down onto the bed.

“Sir,” You whine when he doesn’t do anything, he’s only standing at the end of the bed, staring at you with eyes so dark with lust that you can’t see the blue of them.

“Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll take good care of you.” With that, he swiftly strips his shirt off and tosses it to the side, then undoes the button on his pants, slowly dragging down the zipper with a wide smirk at the haze in your eyes. “Do you want to help me?”

It takes a few moments for you to understand what he’s asking of you, but once you do you push yourself up, shuffling over to him until you’re sitting with your legs underneath your butt. For a moment you’re not sure what to do, you reach out for his pants but freeze mid-air because you just now realize that you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing. You’ve never been in this situation before, your sexual exploits consist of goodnight kisses on the few dates you’ve been on, and your vibrator in your nightstand that has been working overtime ever since you met James.

“I-I’m sorry,” You murmur, embarrassment flooding your features.

“Why are you sorry, bunny?” James’ voice is soft, soothing your worries.

“I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve never… been with a man before.” Your hands fall to your lap at the same time you hang your head. What if you disappoint him? You don’t know what you’re doing and you’d hate to mess anything up.

“I know, bunny. It’s okay.” James lifts your chin with his fore and middle fingers, guiding you to look at him again. “I’ll teach you everything.” His voice dips lower, his bottom lip getting trapped between his teeth when you smile, relieved.

“Now, I’m going to take off my pants, but I want you to take off my boxers. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” You say quickly, eyes dropping to his crotch as he begins pulling the denim down, down, down until it pools on the floor. He steps out of them, then steps in front of you with his arms hanging by his side. When he raises his eyebrow, nodding to his underwear, you reach out for him again, this time with only a small amount of hesitation. Your nerves are nearly off the charts, but knowing that James is going to guide you makes you feel better.

Your hands are shaking slightly when you pull them down, and absolutely no one can fault you for the loud gasp you let out when he’s finally bare because holy shit. Despite being relatively anxious and naive surrounding sex, you’ve watched your fair share of porn, and while the men in them did usually have big dicks, they seem small compared to James’.

You’re almost frightened, how the hell is that going to fit inside you? James chuckles, and you realize you probably said that aloud.

“Don’t worry, bunny. I’ll make it fit,” James groans, reaching down to grab the bottom of your shirt. “I’m going to take this off now, okay?” He tugs it up and over your head once you give your consent, tossing it to the side and cursing when he sees the light pink bra barely covering your breasts. James is biting his lip so hard you’re worried he might draw blood, but you don’t pay it any mind because he’s soon urging you to lay on your back with your legs dangling over the edge.

“Gonna take these off too.”

Giving him a shy smile and a nod, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweatpants, glancing up at you one final time to make sure you’re okay before he surprises you by pulling them off of your legs in one swift movement. You’re tugged down the bed a little, a shocked gasp leaving your lips.

“Fucking angelic,” James murmurs, dropping to his knees and placing his large, rough hands on your knees. He smirks when he sees your matching light pink panties, already soaking wet at the crotch. You have to bite your lip to keep from whimpering when he pushes your legs wide apart, but you can’t stop yourself from squirming when he doesn’t do anything else.

“James,” You whine, high-pitched and needy.

“Sir,” He reminds you with a raised eyebrow as though he’s daring you to say his real name again. And just for good measure, he surprises you by lifting up one of his hands and swinging it down onto your clothed pussy in a harsh swat, causing you to let out a loud moan.

“Sir! I-I’m sorry, sir.”

“It’s okay, little bunny,” James coos as he runs his hands up the back of your thighs so he can push them up and out, letting him get a good look at where you need him most. “Are you going to let me eat your pretty pussy?”

Even though it’s phrased as a question, you know James isn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer. It’s not like you even want to tell him ‘no’, you’re too desperate for something, anything.

“Y-Yes, sir. Please.” Your begging makes him groan, and he quickly dips forward so he’s not even an inch away from your core, inhaling deeply and cursing again.

With a quick kiss to your covered clit, he twists his fingers into the band of your panties and rips them into pieces, and you know you’ll have marks from it. But you want them, you want evidence of this night, and you’ll gladly take anything he gives you. And no sooner than your panties off do James dive in, inhaling once more before his tongue sneaks out and licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit.

It’s at that point that you know you’re well and truly fucked, because there’s no way you’re not going to become addicted to the feeling of his tongue dipping into your quivering hole, the way he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it into his mouth, the way he groans into your pussy like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

And it doesn’t take long for your legs to start shaking, desperately trying to close around James’ head but not being able to due to his hands gripping your thighs and holding them still. The filthy groans he lets out are enough to make you cum alone, but then he attaches his lips to your clit again and gently bites down, forcing an obscene moan out of your mouth.

He lets you get used to the pleasure, switching between fucking his tongue deep inside you and flicking at your clit, and only when he decides you’re ready does he manage to slide his forefinger in your pussy all the way to the third knuckle.

“Sir!” You can’t help but yell. Yes, it stings, but it’s far outweighed by the pleasure of his tongue assaulting your pulsating nub.

He wastes no time in slowly sliding it in and out, wiggling it around until you whine loudly, letting him know he’s found that special spot. You’re too out of it to realize it but James is smiling, clearly smug at how he’s making you react. You wouldn’t care anyway, in fact, he deserves it. He’s making you feel too good, especially when he slips in his middle finger and spreads them.

“Oh god! Yes, fuck. Sir, yes,” You’re incoherent, blabbering nonsense because your brain is too foggy to form a coherent thought. James picks up the pace, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it as he thrusts his fingers directly at your g-spot.

“Sir! Sir, I-I’m…” As soon as he started, he stopped, pulling out his fingers and leaning back slightly with a wide grin. His chin is coated in your juices, and the gleam in his eyes shows you that you’re not going to be able to cum so easily.

“Not yet, bunny,” James says when you whine pathetically, trying to buck your hips up into his mouth but unable to do so because of his commanding grip now holding your waist. “I’m not letting you cum until I’m inside you.”

James then climbs onto the bed, guiding you upwards to lay your head against the plush pillows so he can lean over your body. With little preamble, he snakes his arms around your back to quickly unclasp your bra and allow your breasts to spill free.

“I can’t wait to watch these bounce,” James groans, palming one of them, twisting and pinching at your nipple. James just laughs when you hiss, because your soaked pussy is enough to tell him that you’re loving what he’s doing. 

“Bunny.” He says gruffly, and your eyes shoot up to meet his, though you can hardly see him because your vision is hazy, nothing matters except James. “Are you ready?”

You’re barely able to mumble ‘yes’, but you manage to do so, and James takes that as his cue to grasp the base of his cock and position it at your entrance. He places his other hand on your neck, lightly squeezing the sides to keep your eyes locked on his.

The pressure against your hole is immense, James telling you to breathe as he slowly pushes deeper. He stops about halfway through, giving you a moment for the pain to fade. He’s clearly having a hard time staying still but is cognizant enough to know you’re overwhelmed. It takes a few minutes of deep breathing before you finally nod, silently letting him know that he can move. And he does, pushing in all the way until his hips are flush with yours. Once again, he stills, leaning down to brush his lips over your cheeks and catch the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes.

“H-Hurts, sir,” You whimper out, forcing yourself to keep eye contact with him. And while your core is burning, James looks so damn proud that you’re taking him that it pushes away any discomfort.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Even though you’re in mild pain you’re pretty sure you’ll cry if he pulls out, you need everything he can give you. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, bunny,” James coos, then tightens his grip around your neck ever so slightly. “I’ll give you what you need.” And as though a switch was flipped, James pulls back, pausing for half a second before thrusting forward.

“Ahhh!” Your mouth drops open as you scream, your arms coming up to claw at James’ shoulders and back as he gives you all he has.

And he has a lot to give. He puts his back into fucking you, keeping one hand around your neck and using his other arm to pull your left leg over his shoulder. Sweat beads at your hairline, your eyes stinging with tears, your whole body lit on fire. At this moment, nothing matters except the delicious burn between your legs, the way your body is shoved further up the bed with each of James’ powerful thrusts until it gets to the point where he has to place the hand around your leg on the headboard to steady you.

“Fuck, bunny, you feel so good. You’re so good for me.” James can’t stop mumbling praises, and even though you can’t really hear them, you feel them. Your eyes don’t move from his, even as he glances down to where your bodies are joined. “Fuck, little bunny. Your pussy looks so good stuffed full of my cock, knew you’d take me so well.”

“S-Sir,” You whimper, bucking your hips up to meet his thrusts and digging your nails into his skin. But James doesn’t seem to mind if the way his whole body shudders and his hips slightly lose their rhythm is anything to go by.

“Are you gonna be a good little bunny and cum for me?” James moves his gaze back up to your face, chuckling when he sees how fucked-out you already are. Despite his hand still around your neck you manage to nod, little cries and whines escaping into the air every time James’ cock gets shoved against your cervix.

“Yeah, you are,” James continues, leaning over your body even more and shifting so the tip of his dick hits your spot with every thrust. “You’re going to squirt all over my cock so I can cum deep in your cunt. Gonna cum in you every day, keep you full of me, maybe even plug you up to make sure it sticks.”

You’re right there, your pleasure climbing higher and higher until you’re ready to fall off the edge. James’s next sentence sends you there.

“Fuck, bunny. You’re going to be the perfect little mommy to all the children I’m gonna give you.”

When you wake up, James will tell you about how you came so hard that you blacked out, squirting and gushing around his cock while he continued telling you how even more beautiful you’ll be when you’re pregnant, taking care of him and his home, how he knew you were the one for him from the moment he first saw you. Your things will already be moved into his house. New clothes chosen specifically for you will be hung up in his closet and the bathroom will be adjusted to fit your products. The kitchen is going to be filled with all the food you like. And your cat will be curled up in a miniature hammock in her very own room.

When you wake up, you’ll see how much thought James put into redecorating his home just for you.

And you’ll be too grateful for his kindness to question where he put your birth control.

main taglist: @lilyalone / @crazyunsexycool / @goldylions / @yeehawbrothers / @buckyssweetheart / @buckysprettybaby / @sushiseoks / @heytheredelulu / @somnorvos / @ozwriterchick / @pxgeturner / @gentlelimerence

bucky taglist: @justsebstan / @myfavbuckyfics

[kooyabooya]

PARADIGM

m reader x yunjin // 19k words

Let’s get one thing straight: it’s incredibly difficult to get a good read on Huh Yunjin. 

Goes without saying, she’s the girl that everyone wants. Exuberant on a vibe that’s very easy to fall into whenever she steps foot into the room; anyone within less than a three feet radius can notice it at first glance. 

You’re bumping shoulder to shoulder with friends around the table -  having a good laugh over lunch while she’s passing by with the slightest bit of eye contact with you and, fuck. 

(Yeah, that’s usually how all good stories start.) 

–

One big question that people would ask: how did all of this come to be in the first place with you and Yunjin?

You see, it’s kind of a long story. 

(Technically, not really.)

It’s your fourth year of college. Not counting the additional fifth year because of some loose ends coursewise; you’re near the finish line, nonetheless. 

Kazuha has been your roommate and close friend since the second year. She met you by random chance during orientation the first year but didn’t actually build a sense of closeness until you and her shared two classes together in between. Since she sat next to you in the lecture hall that first day of the new semester, she’s tagged along with you in the dining hall, the library, in some club activities that you were the plus one in, a few scattered parties here or there, and occasionally times where you’re nursing Kazuha for having one too many drinks. 

In some ways, she’s the opposite of your ideal paradigm, or at least how you want things to be in the fast-paced style of college. 

It’s through Kazuha where you meet Sakura. The first impression of her in comparison to Kauzha is that Sakura’s the kind of girl who knows exactly what she wants in her life. She’s foot to the floor, no bullshit type of deal. You don’t really have any classes with her specifically since she’s busy down in the fashion part of campus, but drops by to chill with you and Kazuha in between her long hours of sketching and crocheting. To Sakura’s credit also, she’s the one who roped in Kazuha on the party side of things, always coming over on Friday nights to pick her up and giving you some sort of codename through text to signify that Kazuha royally fucked herself over and needs a designated driver, or another word to let you know that she’s getting her legs split open by some guy that they met at the club. 

(You’ve dealt with it for so long since the first time, it’s basically kind of the norm when she brings over her boytoys while you’re also in the house. Some of the guys are nice, and one of them was actually one of your classmates - so, that was a bit weird for a short while.)

Moving forward, 

It’s lunch, probably on a Tuesday or Wednesday; your mind was already plagued with the bombardment of assignments and extracurriculars filling up your calendar. Kazuha and a few others in your circle are beating the dry autumn heat by taking refuge in the student center, occupying one of the conversation spots debating over something stupid. One of your friends tells you to dish your opinion and you tell them that you’re too checked out to even listen to the topic that they’re discussing. Now that we’ve got that sorted, can you guys let me put my head back down? You plead, earning a few laughs and a shoulder rub from Kazuha sitting next to you. 

“Have you eaten yet?” Kazuha asks you, sitting up to grab your nearly empty water bottle. “God, it even sounds unnatural for me to be worried for you.” 

“I had like-” you say, chugging down the bottle, letting the plastic crunch around your hand, “-a big breakfast, and I’m just tired. Thank you for asking.” 

Kazuha gives you a light shove while you let out a small laugh, acting like the blowback was gonna have you fall off the table. She hates how much you fake things with her, but it’s not her fault how unbelievably gullible she’s made herself to be. “This is exactly why you’re not dating material.” 

Another one of your friends sitting chimes in, “That’s a little rude coming from you, Kazuha.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” she refutes, hands up to proclaim her innocence. “You guys should be the one to press him since he almost skipped class this morning.” 

“Only because I overslept from the night before doing an assignment that took way longer than I expected.” You state your case, reaching in your bag for a small ziploc of cookies, sliding it over to your classmate sitting on the opposite end of the corner. “And are we not gonna talk about how Kazuha slept with one of the people in my accounting class?” 

“Yeah, what the hell is all that about Zu?” Jisun asks suddenly, sitting next to Kazuha on the left side, “Since when have you been sleeping with guys on a weekend basis?” 

“Ever since Sakura brought her out clubbing one Friday night,” you butt in, fingers to your temple and elbow on the table, reminiscing on the memories like some war flashback, “You guys should see what it's like back at the apartment.” 

“What was the initial reaction to seeing your classmate from accounting?” someone at the table asks, “God, that must be like, so weird to see them walking down the hallway.” 

“Believe me,” you breathe, not sure whether to be shocked or disappointed at the memory, “I talked to him on the way out the next morning and he asked me about our next lecture.” Kazuha bumps your shoulder to let you know that she was in on the conversation that morning after, “At least he has his priorities straight after the one night stand.” 

Kazuha's face cringes out towards the group which makes everyone laugh, including you. One of the other table members joke about this story of someone doing the walk of shame after getting caught in the science building by security, discreetly pointing them out since they walked by on the opposite end of the walkway. The way they had their hoodie up covering their face in public, can’t help but feel bad for them. 

At the same time, two girls walk towards your table, on the edge. One of them was slightly taller than the other with a different hair color as well. Your attention was focused on the taller person, who had a prep school type of vibe in their appearance. She was wearing a plaid skirt, high socks with stilettos, one earbud on while she’s looking over to her friend talking about something - not wanting to wonder what they’re talking about. 

It’s when she looks out to the windows behind your table, where there’s this weird feeling in you that shifts the balance of the universe it seems like. Nothing ever in your life makes you stop and wonder if the next day would be your last, but in this case - well, the only case, where a girl crosses your path and makes you lose every bit of composure built up in a matter of seconds. 

This girl is cute. That’s the first (and evident) note of observation. What makes it even more puzzling is how this girl is maintaining eye contact with you the whole time as she’s walking. Everyone around the table is stuck in a state of confusion while you suddenly stood up without any reason. Kazuha notices the glances from you and the girl passing by, assessing, connecting the dots together, and she looks back with a realizing ‘ahh’ leaving her mouth. 

Once you sit back down, the girl walking by looks forward, but does a double take back at you that only solidifies the growing mystery brewing in that short connection. The table all exchange looks at each other, wondering what in the fuck happened just now, and they have questions. 

“Uh,” one of your friends sounded off to break the silence, “What was that just now?” 

“Yeah,” another adds on while clearly trying to put it together with pointer fingers, “That wasn’t normal.” 

“Clearly,” you say, scratching your neck to play off the awkward exchange of eyes. “Who was she?” 

“The girl?” Kazuha beams, “Huh? Oh! That’s Yunjin! She and I actually go way back. I didn’t even realize that was her because of her hair color.” 

“Are you serious?!” Jisun asks, distraught at the name itself, “You’re friends with Yunjin? The Yunjin that everyone wants to get with here around school?!” 

While Kazuha drops the short summary of her backstory with her childhood friend, one of the other guys at the table walks over to you with hands on your shoulders, massaging them as a way of saying congratulations to getting one of the hottest girls on campus to notice you. You’re still processing - it might be a coincidence, or accepting the fact that one-in-a-million moment will never happen again. 

“Alright you guys,” you say, shouldering on your backpack while patting down the hoodie, “As much as I’d love to stay and chat about what just happened with that little staring contest, I’ve gotta go to class.” 

“Boo, no fun,” Kazuha says, pointing a thumb down while a few others around the table are doing the same thing, “Hope you have fun in your class, or sleep through the boring lecture at least.” 

You walk off with a subtle wave, and that’s where the story should end, without ever hoping for a second interaction with Yunjin in your life anytime soon. The staredown for a few seconds would be funny to think about for the rest of the day, but the story will be something to joke about long after getting y’know; life and everything else together. 

–

Or so you thought. 

Turns out that your afternoon class is running later than usual, an email notification from your professor spelled out the message of him being stuck in traffic due to an accident on the way here. Some students are just lounging on the seats while others have their heads down to catch up on sleep - you could also use the power nap, too. Let’s not forget about the type A students reading into their textbooks and iPads sitting at the front row, could be you if you actually tried but you’re good with just doing enough for your own academic standards. 

Kazuha texts you that she’s gonna be late tonight, probably because of some cramming with Jisun or Saerom or whoever she tagged along with that isn’t Sakura, hitting a fast reply of okay, i’ll make sure to save some food for you when you get back.

Right when you hit send, the empty seat next to you becomes occupied, and the hair color looks a little too familiar from the millisecond glimpse out of your peripheral. Her fragrance comes off as coconut, maybe something syrupy, but the sigh of relaxation curtained by her overcast shade of sunset cherry in her hair, how she swivels her head towards your direction; determined, upbeat, and strikingly beautiful. 

“Hi,” Yunjin says, and you’re stuck frozen with parted lips. There’s a sudden chill running down your spine, a snap of the door being shut by one of the students that almost mocks the sound of a gun being fired in a closed-off chamber. There isn’t any sunlight that’s breaking through the overhanging windows beneath the top half of the class, but you’re simply starstruck from the mash of highlights in her almond eyes, the rose pink shade of her lips, her sunset colored hair that looks unreal for someone to have, how you might be thinking of the radiating beams of light shooting on the edge of her stature; no this isn’t a mere hallucination or a prank from someone else, this is actually the real deal. “I wasn’t here for the last lecture, so would it be okay if I could borrow your notes?” 

You hate how vulnerable you are in this state. You would’ve answered in an instant, but this is Huh Yunjin we’re talking about here. Oh, by the way, you should probably say something before–

“Sure.” you answer, snapping yourself from the momentary trance of this girl’s beauty sitting next to you, rummaging through your backpack to pull out your notebook following your tablet, sliding it over while Yunjin clasps her hands together in prayer, bowing her head as thanks for not turning her down. “It’ll be the page before the blank one when you flip through it.” 

“Thanks.” she says, happily flipping through the notebook to see the contents of your notes, tongue stuck to the corner until reaching the most recent page. Reaching in her bag for the pencil case and notebook already opened, she begins to jot down whatever missing material she has while you observe her work. 

Her penmanship is actually pretty to look at, and the fact that she puts a curve up with her apostrophes - not to mention the amount of small cat ears and hearts she doodles with on her page while reading your notes? Yeah, you’re a goner already. 

And for the most part, how could you not be? You’re already entranced at the way her hands twiddle the mechanical pencil, how her nails clack along the desk, how she’s reciting terms and the articulation behind her words sound very intricate and clear. An elbow’s holding your head while your eyes skim through the words being transferred over from your notebook to yours; watching the drawbridge of her eyebrows quirk up at some unknown, but her whisky colored eyes spark up along with the arch, appearing bigger, can’t help with the force in your heart smiling at the sight of learning something useful. 

“-and when this occurs, oh- I see.” She’s nodding at the understanding of what she’s quickly reading. This is someone who knows what they’re doing, who has their priorities straight; humming with pure delight with the way she likes learning. Hang on a second, when the hell was she part of the class?

“Take it that you’re done with this?” you ask, fingertips grazing the rings of the notebook while Yunjin sets her pencil flat on the desk. 

“I’ve already got what I need to catch up on, thank you.” Her laugh is subtle, and quiet, closing up the book and sliding it back towards you while tending to her own. “Thought I’d be missing a lot, but good to know that I wasn’t.” 

“In this kind of class? You could say fuck all with the attendance and just come in for the exams.” 

Her head dips down, eyes sweeping from one corner to the other. She’s hiding the smile, but there’s something lovely about the way her mouth quirks. That dimple is a lovely sight, a gold medal you’ll keep in your head, whether she’s interested or not. 

She puts the pencil back into her case, zips it across halfway. “Can I ask,” she says, twisting her body to face yours, “You’re close with Kazuha, right?” 

“If you consider me to be her roommate as close, then, yes.” 

Yunjin gawks at you in shock, connecting the dots, another point brewing. 

“You’re the same person that I saw while walking in the hall earlier? Oh my God!” she realizes, trying to keep her excitement down in the quiet classroom. “I was hoping that she’d help me in meeting you, but-” 

“Looks like you skipped the hard part all by yourself.” you tell her, acknowledging, blinking with a wide grin. “I know enough from her about you, but she’ll be thrilled to hear about this after.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

You notice the small stack of post-it notes sitting adjacent to Yunjin’s pencil case, pulling one from the stack and writing down something on the paper that you didn’t think of having the courage to do in the first place. 

A smooth operator move, she chuckles at the phone number sketched on the small slip. 

This probably might be your favorite day to attend class so far this semester.

–

For what’s it worth, the attention garnered around you and Yunjin wasn’t asked for. If anything, the noise around campus just made it a bigger deal than what it actually seemed. The added reputation didn’t even feel forced from others - much rather the opposite; almost in mixes of praise and pats on the back for doing something that most couldn’t be able to do. 

Some would ask too, about what it’s like ‘dating the hottest ticket around college?’ or ‘who made the first move?’ 

To that, you shake your head and laugh, though the answer to the first question in itself was quite simple to say:

Pretty fucking crazy at times - but good, mostly great. 

Honestly, you’d also imagine this sort of parallel universe where you’re not in a relationship with Yunjin. What would it be like? A few of the positives would probably be the better balance between classes, or maybe the cash in your wallet and card would be a little bit more than what it is now; god, the list can just go on the more you think about it. Worrying would be overstepping the thought itself, complicating the mental picture would make it even more cathartic. Bottom line is: it’s a surreal thing to actually be with someone who’s ten times out of your league. 

Some would also ask, what’s your favorite thing about her? 

Man, that’s already a tough question as it is, so that one doesn’t get answered easily.

Best that you could settle for is the way she presents herself. One day she walks in the classroom as if it’s the runway at Paris Fashion Week with the most jaw-dropping outfits created by the industry’s best designers - the next day she could walk in with the most casual, comfy fit ever created from the bedroom closet. From the makeup and hair color all the way down to her shoes and socks, she’ll magnetize anyone with low or high effort. There’s something in the way that she extends herself to others; the way her eyes widen at someone she knows, how the sun kisses her skin so tenderly - radiating richness and grandeur to compliment the addicting smile and laugh she possesses. When you look closely, you could also see the tiny hints of freckles spread across her cheeks; oh, and the moles, specifically underneath her right eye and off-centered to her nose, you’d kiss them for eternity if you had the chance to. 

It’s unfair how you can’t compete with that. 

How could a person that’s on the cusp of making a whole world’s difference with their life manage to get with a guy like you? Had it been anyone else in your position, they’d be the happiest person on the planet, no denying that. There has to be an endless plethora of things that could serve a plausible reason to this, but out of everyone, she chose you. 

(The standard she has. The status, the reputation, the talks that people have when she’s strolling through the hallways and around campus.

Everyone can read the outside aspect, but within the inner circle, it’s a completely different conversation entirely.)

“And let me tell you this,” Kazuha says, leaning back on the seat with one leg over the other, “He told me that and I quote, ‘I would go all night with you,’ and he didn’t. Came in about two minutes flat, maybe less.” 

You’re facepalming hard while Kazuha pushes you close to the edge, almost offended by your reaction. The amount of stories with her short-term flirts and one night stands have gotten so bad to the point where, only a stark few of them were worthy enough of a debrief by you. This usually occurs on a weekend basis, you assess, not wanting any part of it after the first time it happened - and then the next, then the next, and the next one. 

“Have you ever wondered like,” you ask while reaching forward for your glass half full of your usual liquor, “Wanting to actually date with one of your fuck buddies, like for real?” 

“I’ve thought about it,” Kazuha replies, sitting up with her phone facing flat across her thigh, “The chance hasn’t really come my way yet.” 

“I’m sure it’ll come.” you tell her, downing another swig of the drink. 

“You think I’ve got a screw loose with how I act?” 

“Are you kidding me? Show me how many booty calls you’ve got on your phone since Sakura hooked you up.” 

Kazuha sticks her tongue at you, pulling herself away from your reaching hand, laughing while she’s practically got her feet up with the cushions now. A lean over more, and she’s curling herself up into a ball while you’re looking around to see if anyone’s paying attention. 

“We could get kicked out of here.” Kazuha says, properly sitting up while you’re hunching over to slip on the lent pair of bowling shoes, undoing the set knots and opening up the tongue of the shoe while the sounds of knocked pins echo underneath the blasting bass coming from the speakers. 

“Get kicked out before we even get started?” 

“You’re the one who’s trying to grab my phone!” 

“I asked nicely.” 

“Didn’t hear a ‘please’ from you.” 

You roll your eyes, stamping a foot down lightly to ensure that the shoe fits perfectly as intended. Might be a bit tight on the back of the heel, but it’ll do. Besides, this Wednesday-night planned hangout at the bowling lanes was on the agenda for quite some time, only put off because certain people have been busy with a few assignments from classes, which you can’t blame them since the semester has been a bit stagnant midway through. 

A look at the watch, and the time was a bit delayed than the intended arrangement. “Where’s Chaewon and Sakura?” 

Kazuha checks her phone for any updates via notifications, “Sakura’s running late. Chaewon and her boyfriend just picked up Yunjin ten minutes ago. They should be here any minute now.” 

With that taken into account, you take small steps to the little control panel, looking up to the tv to put in the proper abbreviated nicknames for the competitors who have yet to arrive at the lanes. There’s a small sense of creativity amongst the five or six competitors: Kkura, Chae, Zuha, Jen Jen, yours (which is pretty bland for your taste, but Yunjin likes it), and whoever Sakura invited along with her if she brought them. “Didn’t buy three to five games for nothing.” 

“You’re literally the only one here that likes to bowl in their free time.” Kazuha deadpans. 

“Tell that to Chaewon and Sakura who competed in ping pong the last time.” you tell her, pressing some of the unresponsive keys that forces a typo on Sakura’s, but you don’t bother changing it back. “Those two will take up the last two games for sure. Put my money on it.” 

“Not even worth losing ten bucks for that.” Kazuha scooches over to the end of the seat, french fry hanging off her mouth, texting whoever it may be whether it’s one of her classmates or one of Sakura’s flings being thrown down her pipeline. To be fair, it’s been about two weeks since she brought someone into the apartment, and she’s quite overdue for a good dick appointment. 

Whatever that may be, you’ll pay no attention to that. 

“Speaking of which,” she continued, with a bowling ball in her arms, polishing it with the sleeve of her puffer jacket, “Where is Yunjin? And why wasn’t she with you in the first place when we left the apartment?” 

“It’s because she insisted on turning in our flash drive for the project we worked together on for one of our classes,” you answer, pressing a thumb down on the panel to finalize the names for the game’s competitors, watching off in the distance as the machine barrier lifts up opening the ten bowling pins to the line. “I offered to go with her so that it shows the professor that we actually did a collaborative effort, but then you called me.” 

“Ouch, sorry.” Kazuha winces, you wave her off with a shake of the head while she puts her preferred ball on the rails of the return system next to yours. A size seven ball with medium finger placements in comparison to your size ten with the large specified holes. You argued that weight was better than speed, and Kazuha was willing to bet who scores the highest with their preferred bowling ball pays the other person’s meal at the next outing. “If you’d told me that before I bolted to my morning class, I wouldn’t have called you.” 

“Wasn’t my fault you overslept your alarm three times,” you agree, chuckling. “To be fair, I hate the alarm sound for your phone anyway.” 

“Not changing it anytime soon,” Kazuha says proudly, hands firmly in the pockets of her jacket, “Looks like you’re gonna have to deal with it.” 

“And I’ll cockblock your next dick appointment personally, just out of spite.” you say, and Kazuha frowns with a pout instantaneously. 

Amidst the slow riff of the electric guitar lightly reverberates along the subwoofers hanging above the lanes. There’s a sudden surge of newcomers looking to simply let loose and have a good time. It’s a Friday, middle of the semester, one of those weekends where you’re just mentally checked out from all the buzz between school and the extracurriculars and stress for the coming midterms. That’s how it is in this kind of environment: work hard, play harder. 

While some are here to just take space in the pool tables, others are in the arcade to break the ice in the lines of a first date. Few people here are actually closet bowlers with a different avenue of profession holding them back from wasting their time rolling their life or something of that substance. You’re tired with school, but it won’t be long until you’re walking in about a year or less, nothing wrong with having nights like these. 

Your ears pick up on a familiar honey saccharine laugh, along with a string of bickers from a voice constantly sounding angry. A look slightly up to the walkways, and there’s a quartet approaching your spot before the lanes. One of them in a vortex of blonde hair, hands gesturing behind someone else in front of her before slapping their back lightly. The girl in front with the same hair color has her brows furrowed, scrunching at the slight pain from their back, but also letting out signs of fun with good intent. Then there’s the two individuals in tow behind the first duo; a girl with hair colored a mix of sunset orange and a dash of red along with a single guy who’s slightly taller compared to the trio. You automatically connect the dots in your head to deduce that to be Chaewon’s boyfriend, and the other head towards you and Kazuha. It’s an impending headache of bullshit heading your way, but you’ve put up with it for so long and it’ll happen again. 

“You’re late,” you announce, finger to the top of your wrist. “Zuha and I have been here for the past twenty minutes.”

“Fuck off,” Sakura sneers, shucking off her handbag to the seat while letting her lent pair of bowling shoes hit the hardwood. Her tone comes off as harsh - might be mistaken as someone to be antagonistic. To be fair, her and Chaewon have grown up together since they were little, wouldn’t be normal if one didn’t annoy the other to the point where both of them would have to draw knives. But you’ll keep the popcorn behind your back until that moment comes, “Tell that to Chaewon who almost ran my ass over in the parking lot.” 

“Did not!” Chaewon exclaims, already on the seat and untying her shoes while her boyfriend does the same, “It’s not my fault that you didn’t look both ways before crossing!” 

“Both of you guys need to chill,” Chaewon’s boyfriend chimes in, hoping to defuse the situation before it even gets worse, not paying any ounce of attention while slipping on to his pair of bowling shoes. “I thought we all came here to have some fun, did we not?” 

“We did,” you sigh, gliding on over with a cup half full of the beer that you ordered for the group. Chaewon’s boyfriend looks up, slightly hesitant in taking the offer - knowing that if everyone in the group drank tonight, no one was assigned to be designated driver. So, he takes the cup, raises it to you in acceptance, and takes a quick sip. “It’s still on the table if the two most competitive people I’ve ever met can actually make up before going crazy with the game.” 

Chaewon and Sakura both look at you in disgust, simultaneously giving you the middle finger while you shrug, swiveling your head to the opposite direction to finally see the third girl that was with the group - the only person you were technically waiting for since arriving here, and she doesn’t really need an introduction. 

A walk up to her on the opposite bench that wasn’t occupied by four people, and Yunjin matches your demeanor. 

It’s the most innocent look you could give her: a sheepish smile. She looks at you while you’re noticing a small speck of dust at the edge of her jacket before tending to her stray wisps of hair. The way she bats her eyelashes through those rimless pairs of glasses, it’s impossible to not notice the wideness her eyes zeroing in on you while playing the worrying boyfriend you are. Consider it to be a protocol - the smug smile across your face, and you haven’t said anything to her in the opening five seconds of seeing her. 

“Missed me that much?” Yunjin asks, slipping out of the lent leather jacket she swiped from your closet. “You could’ve gone with me to turn in our assignment together.” 

“You see, about that.” You got a hand on the jacket, tossing it over to the seat. “I would have, if Kazuha didn’t egg me ten minutes before we left the house.” 

It’s been merely more than five seconds, and the pleasantries are already skipped over; though there’s a small exchange of smiles and ghosting hands - not wanting to taint the perfect appearance that Yunjin has, wandering eyes all over her like an art piece. She’s stolen your jacket, the shirt underneath was also one of yours from the closet; within all the lines of casual, she owns the category second to none. 

You’re rambling about how much of a pain it was bringing Kazuha, even though she wasn’t even the sole person who planned this hangout in the first place. A second look at the shirt that Yunjin’s wearing and you point it out while dumping the exposition. She runs a hand through her hair, coming it downwards with her fingers while paying half attention to the words spilling out of your mouth. “Did I also mention that you’re wearing one of my favorite shirts again?” 

She just laughs, takes a few steps forward, gives you a quick kiss right then and there. 

She also loves how that simple action shuts you up. 

“You’re missing something,” she tells you, fixing a few places of your hair while you’re standing there completely frozen. 

Acknowledging with a nod, “Yes, I did miss you that much.” Giving her a few light head pats while her eyes smile with content. “Thank you for turning in our project for us. I’ll owe you my life.” 

“You will,” she says, sitting down and untying her sneakers, “Still should’ve gone with me though.” 

“I know.”��

“Are we gonna get this game started?” Sakura asks across the table, holding up a bowling ball that is clearly Kazuha’s, but she doesn’t care. “I just bet that if I beat Chaewon, she’s buying all of us dinner when we’re done here!” 

“You’re shit at ping pong, and I’ll kick your ass at bowling too.” Chaewon rebukes, clearly motivated now to not let that happen on her watch. “Unless pretty boy over there and his girlfriend want to join in the competition to make things more interesting.” 

“A double team against you two?” Yunjin inquires, finishing up the last lace on her shoe before standing up, walking over to the return system to see which ball to pick, “How ‘bout whoever scores the lowest gets to pay for the meal. Deal?” 

“You’re on,” you say, “But Yunjin’s winning in a landslide over the three of us.” 

Sakura presses a few buttons on the touchpad, finally getting the long-awaited bowling game started. 

(Yunjin wins by no surprise, Sakura nearly edges you out by single digits, and Chaewon came dead last which means: the meal was on her after the games.)

–

Each new week into the semester brings a new tale of challenges, assignments, and fun plans with peers in and out of the campus - except this time; however, because you fucked up. 

The swing of the door into your apartment should already spell some sort of bad omen with the way that you’re frantically pacing into the kitchen, overlooking into the small opening to the living room, seeing Yunjin wrapping up her fifteen minute ab workout video, not paying any mind to while finishing the last few reps. 

“Babe?” you call out while putting a thermos onto the countertop, one sweep over with a poking head to see her laying on the mat. “Ah, right. Your workout.” 

Her brow furrows while trying to concentrate in holding the planking position, holding herself in place for another five seconds or so, finally falling flat when the timer goes, softly panting before sitting up and facing you. She’s in a sports bra and one of your sweatpants that pool at her feet - though the robbery complaint will get ignored. 

There’s something about her being astonishingly pretty in homebody clothes. Hair in a low ponytail, lip lightly touched, there’s a thin layer of sweat covering her upper body. Normally, you’d tell her to go take a shower right away. You’re committing perjury for not telling her in the first place. 

“You took longer than expected,” she says, looking up to accept the greeting kiss while you’re towering over her. “Where were you?” 

“Had to take care of some stuff outside class. And then I had to take care of something else,” you answer, backpack to the couch. “Which leads me to my next thing that I have- no, need to tell you.” 

“Have you done something wrong?” Yunjin asks, standing up, eyes narrowed when she notices your worrying expression. Her hand dances along the hem of her sports bra when you help her up, while you tend to her messy hair as she tries to read into your body language. 

“No?” you tell her, hoping that answer would suffice for the time being.

It doesn’t. 

“What did you do now?” She frowns, eyes squinting closely together - pushing further into admitting what was going on. That was already strike one, and getting two more was never an option. “As long as you tell me, I deserve to know at least.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad?” 

“Can’t promise you that.” 

Taking a deep breath, you place both of your hands on her shoulders, guiding her down to sit with you on the couch while you take another momentary silence to gather your thoughts and words, hoping to bring the news up in the most sincere and serious way as you could. 

“Well?” Yunjin asks again, prompting you to get on with it and drop the stalling. 

“Alright,” you start, “Do you remember that uh- sex tape we made together last week?” Might be a dumb question, but how could either one of you forget? The look on Yunjin’s face says a whole lot more than what her answer might be, and she’s grinning just thinking about it. “I thought you were serious about–” 

“I am!” she exclaims, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks and the grip on your hands grow tighter, “But what does that have to do with your-” 

“I know, I know. Stay with me here.” you assure before delivering the final blow. 

You can’t help but laugh while your finger presses softly to her lips. The memory itself is also flashing through your mind, how your hands grip around her ass with her back arched up, the way she’s splayed on her back, filling her pussy up with your cock working its way down to her stomach. Bending her in half while her lovely heat clenches around you to the point where she’s screaming. The assessment running behind Yunjin’s eyes and the glossiness tells you everything that there is to know about it. Her brows furrow again with an inward lip, thinking about the way she marks you up with scratches across your forearms and back, groaning into her ear while you’re shattering her into the mattress. 

(Can’t forget about the face she has while you’re fucking her rough - a string of pants and whines that go up in two ascending octaves, then diminishes to almost nothing, unraveling herself all over your dick when she locks you down with her ankles to the small of your back. She’s so helpless, especially when-

“Fuck, yes baby, right there-”

More on that, eventually.) 

“So you might’ve turned that flash drive in to our professor.” you tell her, squeezing your eyes shut, bracing for a hit from Yunjin. “Not your fault though, this was all my doing.” 

“Okay,” she laughs in disbelief while doing this form of jazz-hands, “First of all, we can just ask to exchange it. Second of all, who the hell saves a sex tape on a flash drive? I mean, what the fuck were you thinking while setting up our final submission?” 

“I was looking at it while editing our project and I just got so caught up with the way your soft moans got to me in the recording and how your tits were just–” you remark, quivering with a grin while Yunjin scrunches her face at you. 

“And what are we waiting for?” she asks, wrinkling her nose while laughing out loud. “Either we act now or get both of our asses expelled before we even get to graduate?” 

“If all goes well, we should honestly be fine.” you tell her, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, hand quick behind your back to give her a face towel. “If it doesn’t, at least we can say that we tried to prevent this from happening.” 

“This is your fault, by the way.” Yunjin says while taking your hand up and on the way out the door. “I was the one who turned our sex tape in supposedly, and I’m gonna be the one to get it back.” 

The way that you don’t even put up a refute to her, the way your feet carry themselves behind her, the loud ‘thum’ of the deadbolt outside the apartment should already be a sign of what’s to come. 

–

You’d be amazed at how well you’ve held your patience while Yunjin was doing all of the talking with the professor, trying to reason out as much as she could for just a simple exchange. For some reason, the man wouldn’t even budge without the speculation of nothing being in the contents of the flash drive and considering the fact that it was the deadline. 

“Sir, if you could please just-” 

“Save it,” he says, pressing the bridge of his glasses up towards his face, “Look, I know that you two are of my brightest students in the class, but it’s just oddly suspicious that you’re asking me to swap out the turned in flash drive for another all because of some mix up?” 

“Can’t you just not do that instead?” you ask, offering the proper flash drive to the professor. “Yunjin and I have already proven to be your most esteemed students this semester, this small mixup just shows that there’s that built trust from over the past–” 

“I understand that, but I just can’t fathom that you two are pulling this over me at the very last minute right before I go over them,” the professor declares, “It’s too suspicious as it is and if worse comes to worse, I’ll have to report both of you to the dean’s office if we can’t come up with a compromise here.” 

“But sir–” Yunjin tries to butt in, hoping to reiterate the case.

“I expected more from you, Yunjin.” He says, leaning back on his chair, “I’m very disappointed in the way you are acting just now. This isn’t like you, and I expected better.”

“Blame me instead of her.” you plead, standing in front to neutralize the hostility. “She was turning it in for us in the first place.” The professor just scoffs mockingly, sputtering different kinds of insults that would be enough evidence for him to get fired, and that’s where you reach the boiling point first. 

“Enough of this nonsense,” the professor scowls while tossing the very flash drive Yunjin gave into the basket filled with the others. “You’ll get it back when I’m done grading these come Monday. Now please, get out of my office before we really start to have an issue.” 

Before Yunjin opens her mouth to protest, you toss the correct flash drive into the professor’s chest, fishing into the basket to grab the other one resting atop of the pile. She picks up quickly to what you were doing, tossing a jar filled with pencils off the desk that leaves him in visible confusion, pulling her by the wrist and out the door where you and her make a break for it out in the hallway. Once rounding the corner, she starts giggling out of nowhere while you’re looking over your shoulder to see the small figure at the end of the corridor. Things take a turn for the worse when the sound of radio chatter could be heard coming up the stairs off your right, and on the opposite end was the janitor's closet. Any delay by more than two seconds would only spell disaster if you didn’t yank her inside right away. 

“Fucking security,” you mutter, following the slam of the door and a press of the ear against the wood to get a better chance of hearing what was being said. Yunjin’s pressed close to you, meeting your gaze once the conversations faded out into the hallway. A sigh of relief leaves your lips while Yunjin again is trying not to laugh at what you two did. “Okay, I think they’re gone, but we can’t leave now. There’s too much commotion down near the office, so we gotta wait.” 

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Yunjin breathes, hand to her chest to calm down her heart rate, still trying to come to grips with what just happened in the span of three minutes. “Even crazier that you managed to get the right flash drive.” 

“Well shit,” you tell her, hand out to see that the outer case of the flash drive had been damaged, much to your responsibility since you stepped on it by accident while stumbling over in the hallway. “Expulsion is out of the equation, but man,” you say, putting the damage back into your pocket, “This sucks. I was hoping to save the contents in that drive.” 

“This might be a good thing.” Yunjin tells you, reassuring. 

“What makes you say that?” The sigh leaving your lips is laced with frustration, “I don’t think- ugh, that was some of the best sex we had. Yunjin, I- you don’t realize how hot that video was when I was looking at it and now? It’s gone.” She looks at you in sympathy, pulling her lip inward while trying to calm down your clenched fists, trying to not let her thoughts get the better of her with the way your hands could grip her hair. 

“Since we’ll be here for quite a bit, why don’t we get to work making a new one?” She asks with a chin tilt up, pressing your back against the door when her lips meet yours, taking you completely off guard by the contact. 

It’s a full on advantage for Yunjin in this case, swirling her tongue against yours, not willing to bear in mind when the feedback of a radio approaches near the door. Getting caught is one thing - but there’s worse ways to go. You pull back from the lack of oxygen, a swipe of her upper lip to yours, warm breath hanging in the open space while you collect your thoughts. “Y-You’re gonna have to give me a minute here.”

“What for?” 

“I’m not complaining at all, but uh, what’s with,” a giggle leaves your mouth, “the affection, all of a sudden?” 

“Nothing,” she replies, “It was just hot- really hot. I just think you giving your piece of mind to him for me was probably the best highlight of our whole semester so far…” Her voice trails off while her hand slithers down to your waking cock through your pants to cement down her thoughts. A hand pulls you by the nape of your neck to meet her lips again, moving sensually in the closed space, her mouth leaving these teasingly touches while she’s assessing your length in languid pumps. 

From the dazed expression in your eyes and swollen lips, you’re already entranced at the way she’s sinking to her knees in front of you, the hitched breaths and slow shuffle at the pull of your sweats and boxers to the ankles. Yunjin softly gasps, a thrill that never gets old when she uncovers the length from it’s clothed chamber, licking her lip while all of her attention focuses in on your cock hanging proud between your thighs; the many things she’s currently thinking about -  and you’re not far off the thread of thinking too. 

You’re already imagining the velvety heat of her mouth while she’s preparing for that familiar ache of taking you down her throat. Before she could have fun for herself, she pulls the zipper of her track jacket, revealing the same sports bra from earlier, pulling the tight piece up and over to reveal her tits, noticing the small twitch when she finally runs her fingers along the veins of your shaft, wrapping slowly while the jerk in your knees ends with a mouth curl from her. 

“The video would be really nice right now, wouldn’t it?” she breathes, thumb grazing the slit of your tip that’s soaked with a small hint of precum leaking, assessing the conditions with clinical precision every pump. Her eyes meet yours, already wild with imagination as she continues to stroke you softly. “Babe?” 

“No- no phone.” 

“I brought mine with me, stupid.” Yunjin tells you, dropping the excitement from her face. 

She laughs when you’re murmuring out these complaints, only for that to be ignored when she’s quick to hand her phone to you. “You were in a rush,” you reason, “Didn’t have time to grab mine sitting on the kitchen countertop.” 

“What would you do without me?” 

“I have my right hand to do the job.” 

“Angle it properly,” Yunjin instructs, smirking at the gasp while she cradles your balls. “Is it in the right position?” Your hands steady over her head, pointing the camera while her gaze transforms into something more needy, someone who’s desperately hungry to get herself satisfied. It’s unbearably pretty the way she gets like this for you, pulling her lips inward to get them wet while your eyes are fixated through the phone screen, flexing your waist a bit in anticipation while her tongue licks up your cockhead - an appetizer of sorts, before finally taking you in. 

Everything rushes and slows down the way her lips close around the third of your shaft. Not wanting to focus on what’s happening below, you look up with eyelids fluttering shut at the way her mouth and tongue continue to lap up the length, eventually sliding down, easing more and more of you down her throat, coating your cock with her mouth the more she sinks. She knows all of the inner workings of what you love in blowing you. 

“Yunjin, fuck. Baby,” She intends to break you apart with her mouth, once she reaches down the base, holding you there while some of her saliva leaks out in repeating gags, hips twitching at the clench while her tongue sweeps underneath in a slow, consistent rhythm. 

The vibrating hum she rumbles along the line of your cock, she steadily keeps up her pace while her ears pick up on the shallow breaths coming out of you. Forget about the video, or the noises that pick up in decibels - in addition to the back of your head hitting the door. It’s always addictive the way her mouth sheathes your length, having no gag reflex was something amazing for Yunjin to have, repeatedly pulling her head back up and dipping back in to take you deep. 

She grazes her teeth to a smile while your fingers thread through her hair, internalizing the pulse, that sweet heat of her mouth and how wet it is; the fucking suction, goddamnit. Her suction was way to fucking good for you to pay attention to. “There. Y-you’re so good- great at- fuck-” 

Yunjin just hums to accept the compliment, pulling away to angle your cock upwards to put one of your balls in her mouth, lathering it in her spit. “Camera, tilting.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” you say, lazily. A small fix of the phone in your hand finds her face right in frame, as she resumes her oral assault on your cock. The volume of moans increases slightly from her and you, highlighting how much you’re enjoying this while she hollows her cheeks halfway, taking you all the way down tight. Tighter. The sound of her throat clicking when your cockhead rests at the opening in her mouth, you’re furrowing your brows together while trying to keep it together as much as you could. 

Pulling back slightly, tongue licking across the swollen head, she winks at you while you’re biting your lip so hard to the point that you’ll probably draw blood from it the next second. It’s not helping your situation - she’s giving these subtle ‘mhms’ when she slides you back into her mouth, eyes closing in bliss, upping the pace while you’re nestling a hand to the back of her head, dragging your cock along the top part of her mouth, forehead wrinkling in approval to let you know that she likes it. 

Sliding you out for a second, “Put your shirt in your mouth.” She tells you, placing a precise kiss at the base while you’re staring at the screen. “You listening?”

You just groan. 

Her hand is quick to hike up the bottom hem of your shirt, rolling it up to put a clump of the cloth between your teeth, and she just laughs before inhaling your length again.  

You’re also trying to keep it together over the fact how much of a slut Yunjin gets for you, hoping that all of the button pushing will leave you into fucking her just exactly how she wants - you’ll just stand there like a good boy she'll ask, using that pretty mouth over your cock for what feels like an entering until you bust inside that lovely hole just to fill the other one later. 

The pop she does off of your cock is obscene, jerking your shaft while she’s staring up, and the image on the screen is already something to capture for later. 

“Are you liking this so far?” Yunjin asks, doe eyes doing very little for the heinous act she’s committing, giving your underside scattered pecks mixed with slurps over your drool covered cock. “I can tell from your writhing face that you are.” 

“Bitch.” you spit, a futile effort at best.

“Fuck my mouth.” She orders, inhaling your cock down - all the way, clasping her lips to the base. You clench your teeth together, get your hand to her head again. Her eyes go wide in content while you slowly thrust up with her against your hips still, slacking her jaw to let you build up some speed to bury your dick in her throat. 

Doesn’t take much long, mouth hanging in awe by the way she’s pulling up and out and going back in. A few good thrusts is all it takes to get the perfect pressure and suction around your cock, spit leaking out of her mouth while you’re finally getting your work cut out the more she gags around you. That fucking tongue is your worst enemy - the way that it’s licking up underneath a few times, one of the key ways to get you to finally open up that eventual bursting drain from within. 

“Jen,” you hiss while fighting the urge to bust at the nickname alone, pushing her down while the moan she elicits over your dick throbs in her mouth, nearly breaking, “Gonna just, fuck, ‘m so close-” 

“Mhm.” 

The spit remains where its at while pleasure surges through your body, grinding your teeth to mask the heated groan while you cum down her throat, spilling copious amounts of your release into the hollow of her throat, feeling the languid clench past the opening while she’s swallowing it all. Her eyes go wide for a second at the load, closing them soon after as you manage to keep it together from your high, coming down when she slides herself off of you, coughing a bit while your knees jerk together in a millisecond of shock. Some of your cum spills out of her mouth and dribbles down between her tits, keeping the camera angle on her surprisingly while your cock floats right in front of her face. Yunjin leans forward to give a peppered kiss to the tip, collecting some of the remnants that rest at the slit before retreating, fingers treating the damage of her soaked and swollen lips. 

“Thanks for that.” she says, chuckling, wiping off some of the evidence with her knuckles while blinking in quick succession, looking up at you fondly with those enormous bark eyes of hers while you stop the recording to hand her a piece from the brown paper towel roll sitting on the shelf, helping her up soon after while you’re fixing your clothes. “Told you that it was worth killing time for.” 

“Looks like I owe you again for this,” you tell her, treating the drawstring of your sweats to a knot. “I’ll peek out to see if we’re in the clear.” Soon after you said that, you lean your head out the small opening of the door, realizing that there wasn’t anyone within a close distance in the hallway, stepping out and helping Yunjin out the closet, feeling out her jaw with her knuckles, trying to memorize the ache of her mouth you just gave her. 

“We should get going, no?” She asks, hand to your shoulder while you’re about to enter the stairway. “And I’m holding you to that returned favor, since you’re gonna fuck me till I need to be in a wheelchair.” 

“Isn’t that part of the fun we’re doing already?” you rebut, grabbing her hand, “The sooner we get back home, the faster I’ll make you cum, deal?” 

You’re a silly idiot the way you’re pulling Yunjin by the wrist, picking up the pace while her smile was impossible to take off. She’s laughing again at the proposal, but also very looking forward to it. 

–

The thing about Yunjin, you learn, for the most part, is how she’s painted to be this great girl that is only primed for success - and nothing less. 

What others don’t realize, is the conventional pains and struggles she poses towards you -  to the point where that agonizing migraine in your head just keeps on ringing. And sure, she’s the top student and role model amongst peers for a reason, showing up where it matters; but when it comes to the actual long hours of grinding schoolwork and building up her own life bit by bit, it’s within the walls of your apartment where the real stuff takes place. 

A clean room at the beginning of the week, only for it to be completely ran through like a tornado and all over the place come Sunday. 

In terms of assignments? She’s clean, all across the board - with the rare occasion of one class slipping out of her mind if you’re not there to remind her or bail her out since some subjects in her schedule are not her forte, but you’ll help out where you can. 

The standard that she’s always trying to raise, for the most part, is the sex. Always the sex was the emphasis. She tries and you try, getting one over another or deal with whoever is going through it the most, especially if Yunjin’s the one who’s got a higher sex-drive than you, not that you’re putting it up for an argument, but willing to compete when present. Whether she’s looking for it or you are, she’ll find a way to push that idea into reality no matter if you’re with her or not. 

“This better be important,” a familiar line you’ve been saying for quite a bit as of recently. “Couldn’t let me go for a few hours to have some fun with the rest of the guys?” 

“When are you gonna be back?” She asks, and the tone in her voice comes as peculiar the way she sounds out of it. “I’ve been reading this stupid book before Kazuha and the others came back with some snacks.” There’s some laughter in the background, probably someone bickering over some gossip that happened earlier in the week that was sufficient enough to report. “Bless Kazuha, for getting me out of the room at least to socialize.”

“I thought that would kill more time for you while I’m gone.” 

“It has, but everyone’s gone now. And Kazuha’s in her room asleep already.” 

“And you?” 

“In bed, trying to watch this series, but I miss you.” 

“Aren’t you cute.” You muse. 

There isn’t anything to be considered unusual with conversations like these over the phone or text. In all fairness, you did kind of feel bad for leaving her alone for a few hours since there were already plans made as it is, but Yunjin’s pouty face did everything it could to stop you until you left. 

“I miss you. Can I not admit that?” She sighs. And you’re probably painting the picture of her being in one of your shirts, laid back on the bed or sat criss-cross - doing literally anything to keep herself moving as you two prolong the conversation. 

One of the guys bumps you on the shoulder, hinting that they’re walking on ahead from the bar. You nod and start walking with them, clearing your throat before answering, “What if I told you I feel the exact same way? You can add on from that, I’m pretty sure.” 

“God, the slight change in your voice when you’re trying to make me work,” she says, grinning while you continue to keep the steady walking pace. “Maybe if you can excuse yourself before the new hour, I’ll let you tie me up to the bed.” 

“Yunjin. Christ-” 

“I’ll let you know right now that I have nothing underneath your shirt at the moment. Just for good leverage.” 

Oh, it’s another challenge alright. Two can play at this.

“Which shirt?” You ask, gauging the image forming in your head. “I forgot to give you thanks for doing the laundry earlier after, y’know.” 

“This old shirt from that thrifting run we did. And you can thank me in other ways.” Yunjin says, humming as you can tell exactly what she’s doing. “I’m already imagining it, what you’ll do to me if you get home fast enough.” 

“Like what,” you breathe, the huff going into the microphone that has her mixing her giggle with a half-moan in between. “I’m a visual learner, but I need details to set the picture right.” 

There’s a quiet whine heard when you stop at the intersection, turning yourself away so that no one else in the group can pick up your current phone call, or at least have the frame of mind to ask you who’s on the other end. The stiff breaths on Yunjin’s side pick up in a loose rhythm. It’s no surprise; she’s slowly touching herself, and you can picture it. Forming the image of her hand between her thighs, letting her long figures slide in and out with a bit of a twist, increasing the sound of slick. 

“I’m picturing your hand, thumb on my clit, getting me dizzy.”

“And?” 

“How you’ll stretch my tiny pussy out, pressing my back down while I’m screaming into the mattress.” 

“I will. What else?” 

“Your cock-” she says, “Your lovely cock, how your hands roam across my body. Marking my skin up with your mouth and teeth in all the ways that I like it,” Yunjin inhales deeply, and you can visualize the arch in her back when she bottoms herself out, “-no idea, how good you’d look inside of me, right now. Bending me over the bed, riding you out, until you fuck me deep, using me just to get yourself off. The way you, fuck- get so addicted to me.” 

“I know.” You tell her, looking both ways while crossing, “How many fingers did I get inside of you? Remind me again, three?” As you’re asking, one of the guys looks back in shock at what was said out loud, winking at them while nodding in approval. They know, besides, it’s the unspoken bro code. 

“Three,” she whines, letting you know she’s limit testing herself with three of her fingers inside her pussy. “Your fingers are better, and maybe we can try four. The offer is still on the table.” 

This fucking girl. “What’s my time limit here?” 

Yunjin sounds unorganized, humming and breaking a whine. “Come back any later than eleven, and you don’t get to cum inside of me. I’m gonna get so close till you get here, and I’ll let you finish in my mouth as mercy.” 

You click your tongue, convinced of the fact that you’re cornered for now, but it won’t matter if the end of the deal is held; with gritting teeth, Yunjin giggles at the assertion that you’ll fuck her senseless if that’s she wants. There’s nothing wrong with that declaration, since she’s the one who started all of this anyway. 

“Alright, pretty boy. Thirty minutes.” Is all she says, and then hangs up. A second later she sends a picture of her reflection in the mirror, legs raised and spread apart like a normal split, a string of slick to be clearly seen. 

A look at your watch. The dinner you attended with the guys was at seven. It’s thirty minutes until eleven. You’re not far from the apartment from where you’re at, and as luck would have it, one of the guys was looking to call his night early. Even better when he’s living in the same apartment complex as you; all you need to figure out is how to convince him to rush back home. 

While breaking away from the group, the bro code comes into play again, and apparently his girlfriend sent him nudes while eating earlier. Not exactly sure why he would show you a picture of his naked girl in the first place but hey, great minds think alike. 

–

You kinda blame Kazuha for making Yunjin like this at times. 

Not your fault however, since the pair of them conveniently share a brain cell together whenever Yunjin stops by your shared apartment with Kazuha to stay over and chill. From what you can recall, these two have been best friends up until middle school; Kazuha went overseas to pursue her passion for ballet while Yunjin was focusing on the performing arts - and in a way, they were still tethered together despite being miles and miles apart across the globe. 

(Call it a fine pairing of toothbrush and toothpaste, but the connection you saw what these two had was something to admire.) 

“You sure you don’t want a bite?” Kazuha asks, opening up the styrofoam box to reveal a set of six takoyaki pieces. Yunjin sits next to her on her phone, switching between apps in record time from the socials to her emails, a mean look to her face when she looks at the grade from her art project, a perfect score to the narrowing eyes as if she herself couldn’t believe her own work. 

“Save one for me,” you answer, getting up from the lounge seat to migrate towards the kitchen, hoping to satisfy your food cravings with a light snack to slowly administer the growing appetite. “Yunjin’s the one who suggested getting takeout in the first place so I think you two should at least have most of it for yourselves.” 

“I told you ordering eight was better than having six,” Yunjin scoffs, scraping Kazuha’s shoulder while lowering the plastic bag to pull the other foods that they ordered from their go-to place that was on the outside of campus. “Now, are we gonna eat this together or are you gonna give me another play-by-play with your sex shenanigans for the tenth time.” 

You roll your eyes while ripping the wrap of the instant ramen, “Zuha, who was it this time?” 

“Uh, none of your business?” 

“It should most definitely be my business if I can’t find the fucking cable to my keyboard,” you retort, frowning while Kazuha flips you off with the middle finger. “I already had to scold Yunjin for stealing my pants, bleaching them by accident, and then giving it to Sakura for her fashion project.” Cocking your head over, you see Yunjin set up her phone for the mukbang they’re about to do, the tripod already centered between the two of them on the table and the pair already fixing up their hair a bit to make it presentable. “Please don’t tell me you got that on camera.” 

“Bloopers.” Kazuha adds, “I’ll let Sakura know to return your pair of pants later with this clip.” 

“Enough talk,” Yunjin says, pulling a takoyaki out and hovering it over her other hand. “Think we can eat this in one bite?” 

“Ready to do this?” Kazuha asks.

“Let’s go.” Yunjin answers. 

You’re muttering to yourself behind the counter: “The food is still hot, you idiots.” 

“I think we’ll be okay,” Kazuha replies, leaning closer to the camera with her piece of takoyaki, “Might be a little dangerous, but we’re gonna do it anyway.” You’re trying to fight the snort in your throat while you’re looking over to see both of them eat it, getting two solid bites into the delicious snack while you’re still watching them. 

Kazuha leans back, covering her mouth while Yunjin hollows her cheeks, lips slightly open, breathing out hot air. Both of them move in opposite directions, but Kazuha follows Yunjin’s movement, keeling over to the right side. While that was happening, the table shifted from underneath, moving the camera and causing it to tip over to their right side as well. Soon after, Yunjin’s quick to sit back up and fix the phone to make it stand upright, laughing while Kazuha’s face literally goes beet red from the hot food. 

Rolling your eyes, you continue to make your own, paying no attention to the girls in the living room. You hear them arguing over how the takoyaki was still hot when Kazuha claimed that it wasn’t, “I thought you checked that these were already cooled down.” 

“And I told myself that it wasn’t going to be that hot still, but it’s that hot!” Yunjin says, mouth full while Kazuha is trying to fan her face. 

You’re leaning over again with the steam from the pot rising to your face, “I’ll have that one extra piece for me,” telling Yunjin with a cracked grin, “Thank you very much.” 

–

(Kazuha claimed a while back one night, whilst you’re trying to conjure up a preliminary profile with the new phone number sitting in your phone, that there is someone who is equally bad as her. In terms of bad, you’re assuming that in all the ways Kazuha falls under. The appearance only shows half the tale when it comes to Yunjin; until your first date with her at the end of the week, of course. 

You’re also making the counterargument that Kazuha didn’t even tell you that she and Yunjin were close friends in the first place, accusing her that the piece of information was ‘need to know’ leading up to the interaction later on with Yunjin in class that day. 

“I’m telling you this now,” she says, stealing your onion ring from your fingers before you could even get a bite to it, “She’s a freak just waiting to be let out.” 

“You’re serious?” you say at the time, keeping eyes locked with Kazuha with a nursing cup of milk as your nightly beverage. The soft slurp is just audible enough to hear through your ears, “She’s a lot like you in the way that she acts.” 

Kazuha bobs her head in agreement, “Trust me. Her and I did a lot of experimenting and research, even though we were like- in our teenage years, but you get the point.” 

Then you run a hand to your face, recalling every single characteristic with your fingers while Kazuha grabs another onion ring from the bowl. “Okay, so it’s like this: she’s sweet, has this sort of attitude if she doesn’t get what she wants, needy, doesn’t clean up after themselves especially when it comes to their laundry, and self-absorbed with the help of their friends.”  

“Ouch. Who the hell hurt you?” Kazuha tuts, flipping you off with a stray onion ring thrown at you. You’re laughing, but it’s all good vibes and jokes with your roommate. 

“You’re right,” she says soon after, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”)

–

All credit to Kazuha, for slightly playing the role of matchmaker. Though, it’s already a difficult task to do in dealing with her around the house - now imagine with two Kazuha’s, figuratively speaking. The only contrast is, Yunjin’s outlook may be similar to Kazuha’s, but she’s entirely different that's way more appealing to you. 

She breaks the pattern in your life in a lot of ways you don’t expect.

–

Unhinged. 

That could be- 

“Let me hear you moan, baby. I need to know how much you like this.” 

-one sure way to describe it. 

Yunjin’s voice rasps against your ear, while the only thing that’s pooling through your eyes is the carmine shade of hair, while her back is pressed against the door of the stall in the gentlemen’s room. It’s some mixer that Sakura and Kazuha insisted that you two come along for fun; some alcohol is in the system, maybe it’s the heat from the amount of bodies on the dance floor, you don’t really remember how you got to this position - not that it really mattered. 

She’s got one of her long legs wrapped around you, a hand firmly grasped to the back of your neck while your is well worked past the elastic of her panties, curling a finger inside her that makes her sing these wondrous hums and whimpers, watching has her half-lidded eyes glisten in the low light hanging above; and those thickly rimmed specs of hers, the glance alone makes you want more of her. It’s incredibly ethereal how she looks when her lids flutter shut, swollen lips half open when you’re edging her out even harder, cheeks flushed while she’s doing this plié motion on her single foot, hoping to fuck herself more with your fingers - sliding in and out in a steady motion for as long as she could hold it. 

“Fingers babe,” she breathes, nose wrinkling while you’re massaging her clit with your thumb, sinking all over her weight onto your hand. Her glasses slide off the bridge of her nose slightly, pressing it up before shooting her hands down to the button of your pants, feeling the hard line of your cock against the cloth, fumbling with the button until she successfully takes it apart. “Yes, right there, ugh, god, please, don’t stop..” 

“Don’t you know I never will,” you tell her, twisting your face over to get her lips on yours again, attacking her neck while you manage to get her pussy to clench around your fingers more. “You’re a greedy little girl aren’t you? Wanting to get fucked in a place like this.” 

“Yes. Yes.” Yunjin nods, compounding the right words while squealing with the drag upwards to her stomach, “I’ll let you do anything to me, please, fuck me right here, I don’t give a shit if somebody walks in, I want them to hear you fucking me with your cock.” 

The wistful inhale of breath through your lips is a moment of satisfaction, the second she gets her fingers wrapped around your cock, gently. She likes playing this little game with you, the kind of game to get you in the right mindset to where you’ll drop all sensibilities with the sole intention - the only intention: to have you fucking her like it’s the one purpose you’re all good for with Yunjin. It can go both ways, but more often than not, it’s always her that’s the one to get you over that sheer line of craziness, fueled by the reverberating sounds of her moans bouncing off the walls and words ordering you to put your cock inside her, pull you in to this inescapable black hole of lust that you’ll come back to again and again and again. 

“So-” you shut her up with a kiss that she hums in content, “fucking needy.” And when you slip your fingers out of her warm cunt, that should solidify the commitment to finally build on what you’re working towards.

Until Yunjin takes your matters into her own hands. 

The moment comes to you much like in a black flash; a blink and you’ll miss it type of deal. One second you’re pinning Yunjin to the door of the stall, the next second she’s pinning you to the door with her hands yanking your pants down, stroking your hard cock that’s already leaking with every pump. 

“Didn’t you want me to, shit-” you try to ask, Yunjin’s lips making you not think straight, the intoxicating flavor filling your tastebuds, pulling your bottom lip slightly while shoving you deeper into the door. “I thought you wanted-” 

“Shut up and relax,” she says, lowering herself to her knees as you’re getting vivid flashbacks to the exact same thing she did in the custodian’s closet a while back. “Can’t let you have all the fun now, can I?”  

It’s funny how Yunjin enticed and waltzed her way into your life, without really selling anything significant until shortly after, to where she would find herself as this pliant puddle of wobbling lips and uneven moans; only to have the whole persona completely shifted to where you’re the one getting thoroughly fucked over, and falling for it every single time. 

Never gets old, really. 

You’re still trying to process what’s happening, maybe it could be the buzz whirling around your head, as this vibrant hum of the flickering light over you in the men’s bathroom keeps you conscious. When you look at Yunjin’s gorgeous eyes, almost like she’s stargazing into yours, it doesn’t help with the obscene act of her jerking your throbbing cock, lathering it lightly with those delicate flicks of her tongue starting at the base, working her way up while you can feel the beads of sweat start to trickle down from your forehead. She’s basically asking for it: to wrap those plump lips around your cock, use her mouth as the sole bucket for you to spill inside, make you forget about any current worries plaguing your mind. 

She’s leaving these scattered chaste kisses across your shaft before pulling away, licking her lips slightly, mewling when she decides to play with you a bit longer, catching one of your balls into her mouth. The whole half of your upper body shifts, almost unsure what to do while her hand glides across your length with the help of her spit coating it. She rests just underneath the tip, puckering up at the sensitive area while your grip on her shoulder gets tighter. It’s the fucking drag, the way she traces her fingerstips and tongue, she’s so fucking evil. 

“Those fucking glasses,” you grit, hand ghosting to the right side of her head like you’re trying to prevent some piece of artwork from falling, potentially ruining it. “You’re not thinking about taking them off anytime soon, are ya?” 

“This is my favorite pair,” she muses, raising a hand up to your chest while her soft lips slips the head of your cock into her mouth, a prelude for what’s to come. “Wonder how I would look with your cum on them.” 

“Fucking. Filthy.” 

“Had enough yet?” Yunjin asks, teeny bit tipsy in her voice as she laughs, “Don’t try to think so hard this time.” 

All of that tension in your fists suddenly goes away when Yunjin finally dips her head down, deep, deeper, where your hand shifts from her shoulder into her hair, slippery hot and soothing the more she bobs at the gradual pace. Your eyes can’t help but zero their focus on the perfect glide her lips have over your shaft, increasing the suction every pull back and up till the back of your head hits the laminate behind you. It’s a recurring lesson you’re learning each and every single time: the moment Yunjin has your cock in any way, she intends to unravel you with her hands, her lips, her pussy; she’ll get what she wants, all you have to do is just take it. 

“Fuck.” Is a word you can manage to say; the only word you’ll keep saying, for that matter. 

“Mm?” 

Yunjin, is a perfectionist, an artist ready to give a jaw dropping performance; the way that her lips continue to slather up your cock, drawing back just past the tip, hollowing her cheeks slightly that makes you slap your free hand to the door to let her know that you’re teetering towards absolute chaos. She freezes for a second, just to build suspension, before picking up where she left off, taking you back into the unbelievable heat of her mouth, deepening the angle right to the base, until her nose grazes your hips, keeping you in her throat, feeling the first twitches get to you. 

And when she looks up with your whole length, the gaze is undeniably impossible to break away from. She’s reading into the shallow breaths leaving your mouth, how your chest does these irregular motions when she ups the sensual pace to something desperate, working you with the added twist of her hand, jerking you while some of her shoulder is exposed from the leather jacket she was wearing. You’ll mark up that collarbone sooner in here or later at home, it’ll happen. 

Few minutes pass for what feels like an eternity, she releases your cock from her mouth, returning back to your balls while she strokes you with your free hand, purring at times that you can barely hear due to the loud music right outside the bathroom. “Jen, you look so fucking good like that.” 

“Like it when I get your cock all fucking sloppy for me?” 

“God-” 

She forces your right hand to a bundle of her hair, you follow the natural instinct to make it into a ponytail or bun or at least something to hold onto when she takes your cock back into your mouth. No verbal cue, just the implication is enough to know what she wants and what you like, simple as that. 

Just when you think you’ve kept yourself safe from the immeasurable amount of pleasure filling your mind, tensing up your balls and stomach to ensure that you can hold out as long as you could, the eyes and ears can only register her head bobbing back and forth in a consistent rhythm, hypnotized at the sound of those gags she’s making along your shaft. 

You’ve got two hands in her hair, hips thrusting while pulling her head back in to meet in the middle. There’s a slight adjustment of tilting her chin up, so that you can shove your cock a little deeper. Thank God that you’ve secluded yourselves away from the crowd, not wanting anyone to see the campus’s ‘it girl’ take your cock so well into her throat. Nobody knows this side of her, except for you, and you’ll keep that to yourself. Here you go, you’re telling her, keep gagging on my cock like this. God, you look so amazing, holy shit, I can’t with your mouth, it feels so damn good. 

Thank the stamina you’ve built over time, holding out long enough while Yunjin continues her relentless assault on your cock, inhaling it every chance she gets. She’s got two hands dancing along the soaked shaft, hoping that the heat and friction combined would be the final push to make you bust right here and now. It’s happened before, and she’ll make you cum like this again; all you have to do is just let her. 

And so you say: 

“-jin, I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

Those enhanced eyes with those glasses of hers shoot up in excitement, popping her mouth off the head of your cock, furiously jerking it to no avail, with the only thing left to do is to break you. Your knuckles are probably white from the death grip you’ve got to her hair, but all you’re feeling is the flattened tongue she’s swiping on the underside, right at the tip until the contraction was too much to bear, and you let go. 

In most cases like this - that’s how everything goes. 

The face she makes is probably one of the most angelic expressions you’ve seen of her, the way her mouth opens in acceptance while her eyelids flutter shut. You let go in sudden pulses that diminish into jittery jolts, every sash of cum shooting out of your slit paints across the scaffold of her glasses, glazing her lens with the sound of content leaving her lips. An obscene image, there’s cum everywhere across her face, on her lips, some of it got to her eye, and in her hair; the sensation of pleasure gets driven out as your shaft moves gently on her face, giving exactly what she wants, to see you ruined. 

“Good fucking job, pretty boy. There we go.” 

The sigh that leaves your lips is much like a weight lifted off your shoulders. Eyes soon gandering down at the shimmering image of this devil in a daydream or something straight out of your fantasies, darting their tongue out and about with a smug grin spread across their face, with a pair of glasses in their hand with enough messy evidence to conclude that ‘wow, you actually came so much for me’ kind of deal was indeed, wow. 

She’s humming along this little victory in her throat when you check her phone for the time, only for it to be snatched from your hands and-

The selfie session is actually salacious. 

Yunjin shifts along the bathroom floor, next to your cock, camera angle ready and snapping away at the work that was just done on her. The poses she makes, puckered up lips and angling your delicate cock as the additional prop is just downright insanity from her. And you imagine if school wasn’t really her kind of style, then the other line of profession that you know exactly what would definitely suit her well. She’s a slut in the making, oh wait- she already is one. 

“Are you done?” you ask, moving your head around to ensure that there’s blood flow while you have a hand down to help Yunjin up, “I think it’s a good idea to go home now.” 

When she finally stands up, she puts back the cum covered glasses on her face, scrunching her nose while some of the evidence on her forehead, cheeks, and chin just stay where it's at; almost like a wax candle after being blown out. That beautiful face is completely yours to ruin, and you’re contemplating on whether she should back out to the club like that. 

“We should,” she says, while a stray hand grabs yours, feeling the plane of creamy skin underneath across her waist, slipping underneath her tube top to feel the hard nub of her nipple. Her head lolls a bit with the same glint in her eyes, and it only tells one thing: this girl wants more. “If you want to leave already.” 

Something snaps inside you, like a gear clicking in your brain to get it moving again. Legitimately, fuck. She’s got you all wrapped around her long finger, that pretty face that’s just been defiled and fucked upon that most of her mascara is dripping at the sides because of her tears; you’ve filled one hole in her body, what’s wrong with one more?

So you swivel her around, press the front over her body to the door of the stall, strip off that annoying and bulky biker jacket she stole from your closet, pull her top to where all of her lower back could be seen in the dim light. Her hands are quick to slip out of her pants, just enough to where you see the fine curve of her ass, pulling her hips out so that you can get the right position to slide your cock into her. She tiptoes a bit slightly to make the process easier, and she gets you-

“Sir,” she breathes, gasping out at the fufillment, “Your fucking cock-” Her head dips down while your length continues to part her walls. It’s already a good thing that she’s wet, but some of the leftover drool that’s damp around the skin of your shaft, makes everything in her cunt just that wetter. It’s slow, drawn out, and pure delight. 

“Your cunt, babe.” You’re gritting out, and you hear the bathroom door swing open to the laugh of a group of guys. The drag back is only met with the harsh drive back in, causing Yunjin to yelp out in pain. The group of guys sound confused at first, but it’s the audible slap of her ass that you make soon after solidifies the hint, and they hush each other to make sure that what they’re hearing is legit.

She whines at the second or third slap while the guys standing outside the stall murmur in confusion, shuffling out of the bathroom while the pitches in her moans pick up along with your pace, grabbing a handful of her hair to pull her head up, angling the curve of her back where you’re sinking deeper. 

“God, baby, I can’t-” she gasps out, feeling it all the way down that plush crevice of her pussy. She’s gotten so slick to the point where the glide feels effortless. 

“Uh huh,” you mumble, mind already drifting to a plane where you’d never see yourself return to. Yunjin has an outreaching hand backwards to somewhere along the top of your thigh, hoping to grasp with what little brain power she has while getting railed, your grip at her hips - how your fingertips are scraping along the fine skin, the visible red shade across the canvas of her ass when the light flickers for a moment before you’re drowned in darkness. “Just shut up and take it, like the little slut that you are.” 

She’s spilling out words and words of nonsense, giving you the limitless praises that you’ll hear again and again, telling how perfect you are, with that fat fucking cock, choking up her cunt in all the places and spots where she knows you’ll hit, the sounds of the slaps fading out from your ears like a soldier experiencing shellshock, penetrating her poor pussy until–

“I can feel you t-throbbing, please-” 

Christ, you’re cumming for a second time now. Yunjin’s hushed screech fills your ears while you pull out of her cunt, painting her ass across the slick skin. She’s pulling up the bottom of her leather jacket, hoping that you won’t hit, but you do. These white ribbons you’re spurting across the place will be a sight to behold; the things that this woman does to you, fist still wrapped tight around your cock while you’re seeing stars in the back of your head. 

“Jesus shit, Yunjin,” you warble, “fuck, I can’t believe- ugh.” She shelters her face beneath the red curtain of hair, slouching forward while you’re holding her at the hips still, thumb rubbing across the sides while the words coming out of her mouth are still incoherent, still in the utter awe of the defiling act that was committed in this bathroom stall. 

(Shit, you’re saying, we forgot about Kazuha and Sakura. What would they think? The look on their faces when they see Yunjin completely soaked in cum, they’ll probably congratulate her, considering the kind of freaks they are.) 

Yunjin finally stands up, guiding your hands to the bottom of her waist, twisting her head back so that you can inhale the sweet stench of sex emitting from her body, grinning with no care in the world. It’s unreal how she is, but you’ll chalk up a final thesis down the line. 

“I’ll say this again,” she tells you, turning around to let you have a closer look of her face still drenched in your cum, “Love it when you cum so much for me.” 

“You’re not serious about walking out of here looking like this.” 

“I am.” She projects, dropping her frames a bit slightly so that her eyes can hover above, “This is proof that I’m yours to the world. Now let's get out of here with Kazu and Sakura so that they can know what you just did to me.” 

–

Predicting Yunjin’s next move or quirk is practically a dice roll at times. 

Most times, it’s pretty easy and straightforward with all of the usual activities and shenanigans around school or at home. She’ll be in the cafe with you, buzzing her lips while you’re sitting across from her editing something for a commission or writing up a paper that will work towards a letter of recommendation if you pick and choose your professors wisely. You’ll look up to see that rich smile, something that will send your heart beating away double time from the first glance. Maybe on the way back home she’ll sneak a candid picture of you doing absolutely nothing, and she’ll adore it because you’re just being yourself. 

On other occasions, she’ll come pin you down or bring something up unprompted. All it really just takes is a simple conversation to get it going. 

“Hey, you’re done?” she asks, standing in the kitchen one night, whipping up one of your favorite comfort foods that will always be the problem solver: smoked salmon mixed with some vegetables. “Thought that you were never gonna come out of that room alive.” 

“Yeah,” you answer, ruffling the back of your head while your feet scrape across the hardwood, “That portfolio was a little bit tough to get started, but it’s almost there. Stomach’s killing me anyway so-” 

“Came just at the right time. It’s finished, have a seat.”

There’s something domestic with this style of living you’ve constructed. Wondering, maybe through the little hole in the lock of a door, what it would be like for you and Yunjin to have a place together. With stable incomes and the space wide open enough for literally anything and everything that you and her could imagine together. It’s all there, but it’ll be a matter of time before you cross that bridge. 

Yunjin twists around, smitten at the fact that you’re sitting across from her with your head resting on your hand, just watching from afar while your girlfriend is doing one of the most plain acts in cooking. She’s in your hoodie, a bit oversized to where it covers past her hips, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, there’s a soy sauce stain on it where the pocket is - you just wore that yesterday, but it’s fine. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I can?” you answer, stifling a laugh. 

She ruffles her messy bun a bit (since she knows that’s your one true weakness), putting the wooden spoon in her hand to her mouth, tipping it along her chin, scanning your expression with narrowing eyes, pulling her bottom lip inward slightly, clearly not satisfied with the vague reason. 

“Are you thinking about me naked?” She asks, tilting her head to the left. “I can see you imagaining it right now.” 

“No.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

With you saying nothing, the staring doesn’t help and it’s telling her otherwise. 

“You’re already imagining it!” She exclaims, pulling the wooden spoon in her hand back, nearly ready to throw it at you. All you give her is the simple shrug with your shoulders, proving her suspicions right, but you’ll be proud in not hiding things from her, especially if it leads to sexual escapades later. 

“Go wash your hands, dirty boy.” Yunjin instructs, giving a ‘shooing’ motion with her other hand while you’re standing up from the chair, not saying a word but using your face and arms to dispute her claim, despite being completely right and you’re picturing her not wearing anything beneath your hoodie anyway. “I can’t have you fucking me later if the tank is empty.” 

Softly laughing, you give her a pfft underneath the sound while looking away, already twisting your body towards the dark hallway where the bathroom is. “I was thinking about something else,” you tell her, cocking your head to refute her observation, “but I was also picturing you naked without my hoodie.”

“Mhm, okay. Sure.” she says, giggling while you’re walking away defeated, looking at her phone resting on the counter while you make headway to the bathroom. “Don’t spend too much time in the bathroom with your hand, by the way.” 

She notices the middle finger you’re giving behind your back, but you’ll listen and honor the request. 

–

Some days, she just does things without an explanation. Forget about questioning as to what or why, the glare in her eyes have sunk so deep into yours with this heavy urge to just let Yunjin have her way and show no restraint to what she wants from you. 

“No? I’m not really doing anything right now.” She answers, parting your legs while you’re shifting your hips forward to the edge of the cushions, feeling the layer of shorts and boxers get discarded in a few seconds. Kazuha’s on the other end, probably giving a debrief or probable game plan to get with a guy who’ll be fucking her later; it’s one of those weekends again, the usual business. 

You pay no attention, scrolling away lifelessly on three different social media apps with the occasional jump to reply to this group chat for one of your classes, seeing the crimson hair hovering right over your crotch while Yunjin takes your cock in her free hand, slowly stroking to full hardness. 

Looking over, she locks eyes with you, wearing her favorite pair of specs; the thickly rimmed ones, to be more specific. Those doe eyes magnified ten times while her long fingers work around your growing cock, leaving a slow kiss along the side while she’s listening to Kazuha’s verbal dump on the phone. “Who me? I’m just on the couch, sucking cock. No big deal.” 

Just as you’re about to say something, probably a quick ‘no’ to let Kazuha know of the complete opposite on the phone, her tongue swirls at the underside as her mouth seals around the head, pressing a bit across the sensitive area until your hips give up the lightest twitch off the seat. 

It’s so, so fucking warm in there. 

This is a problem. 

Yunjin hums this sort of answer, shimmying her head to take the rest of you into her mouth, simmering your length with a giggle as Kazuha’s muffled voice through the phone, probably rambling on about her recent adventures with Sakura that you don’t know about. You’ll think nothing of it, locking eyes with her while she pulls a bit of her hair over her ear, swirling tongue at a vein while her hand floats across your stomach, then down to your thigh, feeling the light scratch of her nails as she continues to bob her head up and down. 

“I’m gonna say something if you just-” you hush while the vice around your cock tenses up your legs and hips, feeling the press of your heels onto the floor while Yunjin muffles herself again. Some of her hair trickles down to the inner side of your thigh, holding onto some of her hair while your mouth is parted open, vacuuming your gut from the inside as your ass is practically off the seat. 

This is gonna get entirely fucked over if she doesn’t play nice. “Yunjin, I swear to fuck-” 

You’re stroking the crown of her hair, bobbing at a consistent pace now. At this point she’s just listening to Kazuha explain to Sakura now about her troubles with her friends with benefits, free hand that’s not holding the phone now at the base to hold your cock still as she does this party trick of pulling her mouth over her teeth - and the slide of her lips across the soaked surface is so sensitive, and you’re fighting every natural impulse to not ruin this just for your own pleasure. 

It’s so subtle, the way her tongue passes through, swirling the stiff line beneath, lips wet and warm across your cock, sliding in every way she pleases; your phone is pretty much off to the side, forget about texting back that group chat for your class. 

She pulls back, moaning while there’s a visible line of spit from the tip, “Huh? Oh, I don’t have any plans for tomorrow. But we can go with Chae if she’s free.” She smiles widely, hand skating up the length to keep you pulsing. “Me? I just have this one assignment, but I’ll have him help me when we’re done here.” 

“Can I? Uh-” 

“Yeah you can remind him, Zuha.” Yunjin glares, licking her bottom lip, kissing the area between your base and balls, tongue flattening and elevating up the side. She can tell that you’re getting agitated, with every passing second of her hot mouth and the addicting feeling of how her lips wrap around you, hoping to let her push you over the edge. “Alright, have fun with your dick appointment, girl. I’ll see you soon. ���Kay, bye.” 

There could be a vein or two popping out of your brain and neck, and Yunjin flashes this mischievous smile, hand sliding on the upper half of your cock while her mouth nurses the base, beautiful hazel eyes crossing as one of your feet slip out from under the coffee table, head hitting the cushions while this girl between your legs take full control of the lower half of your body. A hum leaves your throat, slurring, Yeah, fuck. That’s all you’re able to say, but it’s fine. Relax, Yunjin will take good care of you, always does. 

Once she stands up a bit, twisting your cock to ensure that it’s still ready for what’s next, you don’t even remember her being in just her panties. The blank canvas of holy skin, the even divide of how her waist forms to her hips, long legs moving one over the other, and that ass is literally a treasure from another planet. “You’re the absolute worst,” you tell her, hand moving to touch the rare artifact that is her body; so perfect and ready for you to absolutely fuck and ruin. “I’ll remember that for later.” 

Yunjin swings her ass, pulling her lacy black panties to the side, one hand to your the top of your leg while the other is still wrapped with your cock, teasing the head with her glistening lips, dipping down to get that first rush of new heat; you’re groaning at this point, as her face hides but you can imagine the satisfied expression when she inserts you in. 

“Baby,” she mutters, keeping herself sliding down the fullness of you, letting every edge of your thick cock press against her walls - the feeling itself is too much to handle. Her ass crashes down, a measured test from the first move. You’ll make a rein with anything that’s within reach. The ass is one option, the crease where her hips and legs meet; her tits also, and let's not forget about that waist. 

You’re pulsing again. Her heat choking your cock is molten, you can hear the gasps in her breath, the sighs of delight from your own, filling her cunt like it's the only thing needed as of right now. 

“I’m so gonna get you back,” you growl, “by filling up your sopping little cunt with my-” 

The movements still for a bit, but the grind she does when she bottoms up your length at the hilt; you could’ve came right then and there, though you did everything in your power not to - not yet. 

She trembles for a second, muttering some nonsense that will have no attention towards while her pussy lips keep you focused on the grip - how it slides up and down. She stops, only to rise with her knees while giving the slightest look back. Fucking insane. 

“Please,” she begs, “I’ll let you do anything to have you cum inside me.” 

–

Sometimes, Kazuha likes the sudden change of patterns with the things you do with Yunjin.

Consider it to be a full circle moment to from watching her bring her fuck buddies over to the place, now it’s her watching you have your fun that was bound to happen sooner or later. She always brings that up once in a while, just to tease you. That’s the partial point of the social construct of college: to get with people and see if things work or not. If they do, great; and if they don’t, well that’s just part of the fun anyway. 

“Really?” Kazuha asks, amused at the sight taking place in front of her: Yunjin splayed across the kitchen countertop, “You two really have no shame.” She says, watching you lick your heart away over the skin of her naked body as Yunjin rakes her fingers into your hair, lets out a shaggy exhale when your lips slide up from her chest back up to her neck. 

You look up, clearly fed with what the observation was brought up now. 

“What can he say,” Yunjin groans out, caressing the back of your head when you’re nestled right underneath her jaw, “Lover boy here got a little hungry after our study session.” She giggles when you hit her favorite spot right at the pulse point, hands trailing underneath her back when she arches while her arms hook your back to keep the contact going. 

You pay no care to Kazuha, keeping your priority on Yunjin, who’s squirming at every touch and lick you’re giving to every discovered part across her body. “Can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Whipped.” Kazuha laughs, walking behind you to the fridge, grabbing two bottles of water to take back to her room. “I was wondering whose shirt it was sitting in the middle of the hallway.” She looks over your shoulder, seeing her friend completely marked all over; up and down, neck and chest tattered with hickeys and bite marks, legs spread apart where your hips sit in between. “Are you coming tonight?” 

“To where?” You ask, letting a stray hand to her tit while you’re looking over to give Kazuha the proper attention. “I thought you didn’t have plans tonight.” 

“I didn’t,” Kazuha says, “Until Sakura finally let me have a go with her on and off fling she’s been seeing for the past two weeks. She showed him a picture of me and was like, automatically into me. Now I’m gonna close the deal with him.” 

“Are you now?” Yunjin asks, on an elbow while your stray hand trails down to her clit, lightly massaging it to keep her occupied. She’s tugging on your shirt, keeping a close eye to your fingers dancing along her leaking slit, sighing prettily. It didn’t take that long for her to get comfortable with Kazuha being in the house while you’re fucking her on any given time of the day, and the idea of privacy was thrown out the window long before that. 

“So that explains the fake ID sitting on the coffee table,” you tell her, feeling Yunjin’s hands on the elastic of your sweats, unveiling your cock when you take the hint and assist. “But don’t you have your own to use? Or did you lose it?” 

Kazuha’s extended period of silence says everything that you need to know about her situation. And the fact that it had Chaewon’s picture on the card, proves the slightest concern that’s rumbling through her mind right now. 

“Kazuha’s still a good girl at heart.” Yunjin observes, shuffling to the edge of the countertop while you’re tugging along the length, lightly tapping her core as the purrs start to fill up the kitchen. “You’ll be fine, we’ll move back to the room before Sakura comes to get you. Promise.” Her head hits the marble when you slip inside into her cunt, hooking onto the top of her thighs as the irregular breaths coming out of her start to stabilize. You haven’t even sunk all the way in yet, sliding until you’re parting her soaked lips, making her feel full. 

“I think you should go to Kura’s.” You add, looking up while composing yourself in Yunjin’s tight pussy. “Would be better for her to see that you’re ready at her place rather than the other way around, I think.” The slick should be the only thing you’re worried about now, her hand grasping onto your wrist when you drag out the first few times, gradually picking up the pace while the lovely glow on your girlfriend’s face starts to set in. “Just try to match the same hairstyle like Chae’s in the picture, and you’ll be fine.” 

Kazuha nods, pursing her lips while she starts to step away. “As much as I love to sit here and watch, I’ll treat myself to my own cock in about a few hours.” She walks away while you’re nicking your head and Yunjin’s waving a loose hand goodbye as Kazuha makes her way back to the room, relaying your focus to the girl at your hips getting slammed with every hit your cock makes into her sweet spot. 

“Now that she’s gone, where was I?” you say sweetly, shifting your hands upward to her hips, admiring those pretty pussy lips, clamping up her cunt. 

Yunjin loves how wrecked you get her, it’s an essential thing that will keep her going, the way she’s sighing out all of the praises and sounds, “G-God, please. Fuck me more.” 

You don’t even have to think twice about it. Because that’s the typical Huh Yunjin style she proses. It comes in a cycle, going on and on and on for as long as you could recall, unsure how things fell to the way that it did, but you’ll be there to listen to everything that there is to hear coming both from and out of her lips. 

–

(The funny thing about patterns, is the sense of normalcy at how things are around the apartment. 

You don’t even hear the front door open since you’re heavily focused on Yunjin’s thick ass bouncing back on your cock, giving yourself time to breathe while she’s doing all the work for the next few moments. Kazuha peers through the crack of the open door leading into the room, a lone pair of eyes finally catching the picture of you two on the bed; there’s her forehead, slipping back out into the hallway in a string of laughs. 

A sole assumption that Sakura’s skill for matchmaking helped Kazuha’s love life get it in the right direction.) 

–

You’re not entirely sure how things flowed this way. 

Though, it’s been really easy to get swept up in all of the different responsibilities falling onto your plate as the weeks continue to pass. Assignments get turned in on time, some parties are on the calendar every few weekends, and the days are winding down until you’ve got that degree in your hand. Only a matter of time before the real world’s calling, but that bridge will come when you get to it. 

“What's the measured response?” Yunjin asks one day, tilting her head at an angle while watching something on her iPad, “I know the whole premise of this show but, I’m literally lost at what the final movie’s overall theme is.” 

She’s got her feet up on the seat, you on the opposite end zoning out after she made you cum down her throat in a corner hidden away from everyone else at the library, not trying to let the sounds of her soft moans fill your ears as she’s slurping your cock’s life away in broad daylight (technically working hours, but you get the point.) 

“I mean, the movie itself is-” 

“Amazingly depressing, unsettling, downright traumatic. I think I might just cry.” Yunjin answers, leaning forward as you’re wrapping up a page of some Murakami book that Sakura handed to you for an early graduation gift. “Is that book also depressing to read too? I know Kkura said that she has a couple at her place.” 

You look at the front cover. Norwegian Wood was pretty much a blind read, and Sakura herself didn’t really tell you what the whole story was about to begin with. So far, it’s been intriguing with every ten pages or so, aside from the fact the love interest has got some issues by a third of the way in? Maybe halfway? You’re flipping pages whenever you can because it’s a good way to pass time. 

Yunjin leans a little more across the table, studying your features, the way that your eyes move with every passing word in the passage, pursing her lips with every small nick of your head when there’s something interesting to note or probably worth annotating later. She thinks that you’re being intrigued, when in reality, you’ve just discovered another thing about the main love interest that’s running the ‘oh, what the fuck?’ in your mind just now. 

A look up slightly above the pages, and she’s sitting there. From her eyes alone they’re staring at you in admiration. 

It’s still impossible to tell what this woman wants from you sometimes. 

“What?” you ask, softly giggling when she’s giving this quizzical look with her knuckles resting under her chin. “I thought you said you needed to study?” 

“I did,” she shrugs. “I’ve just come to the probable conclusion that you’re an interesting human being.” 

“Well what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Yunjin bobs her head confidently. “You’re a smart guy.” An outreached hand over yours to close the book, her eyes flick back to you again while you’re trying to observe her body language, the way her glances exchange from seeing you to some passerby walking in the library. “I’m sure you’re still thinking about earlier.” 

Your jaw drops slightly, repulsed at the sly wink that she’s giving you. There’s no deniability coming from you, she’s just pulling the rope at every urge within the bones in your body to see what she demands. “And what if I am?” 

She grins, finger between her teeth, “What do you say we get out of here then?” 

You’ll follow her back to the apartment in a heartbeat. 

–

A quote is said at the end of a lecture one day from your finance professor: “This too, shall pass.” The interpretation alone could be applied to a wide variety of things throughout a busy schedule. It could be passed as advice, a lesson, a reminder; or at least a simple mantra to go by once you’ve reached the crossroads from one turn of the page to the next. 

Some of the remaining morning classes get skipped. 

Some of the study sessions leading up to finals get cut short. 

Every passing day until the eventual break has been met with a metric of unpredictability that you still can’t quite fathom about. That’s the beauty of what life has to offer, actually - to break the solid cycle of that routine that’s basically second nature up until now, do stuff that’s worth the fun without worrying about what’s to follow after. You’re always on the receiving end of this, getting pulled by Kazuha or Sakura or Chaewon or literally anyone that’s willing to peer pressure you into doing the stupid shit that they always get themselves into. 

At the end of every probable argument, Yunjin always gets the final say. 

Doesn’t matter if you’re fighting the sounds rumbling out of your chest, or the endless streams of begging please keep fucking me coming out of her. What keeps you in is the way she rolls her hips, slowing the movement for a second when she’s reaching over to the nightstand to grab her phone, answering Hanni’s call as she has a hand to your mouth to keep quiet. The drag alone is an overload for your brain, falling off the edge till you’ve got your load fucked deep enough into her pussy and get several more after because she wants it. 

She’s got the phone between her shoulder and ear, “yeah, got it. Okay, awesome. I’ll see you soon, yeah, mhm, we’ll be there, I’ll tell him. Yes, yes, yes. Uh huh, bye.” 

God, and when she pulls herself up to a kneeling position over you, looking below at how well your cock fills her. It’s making you want to do all of the things she knows you’ll do to her. Put her in her place, have her screaming until the neighbors next door come over to complain for the hundredth time, and for the love of god, just keep her hips there so that you can-

“Make a mess of my pussy baby. I want to feel it so deep inside me.” 

This side of her…man. It’ll happen now, and it will pass. But it will most definitely come back again soon. 

-

The weeks after blow by like a bullet train, and before you know it, it’s grad season. 

It’s a few days before everyone in your cohort gets the sought out reward of walking across that stage and pulling that tassel from the left over to the right. You’re at a party hosted by one of Sakura’s friends, taking it easy in one of the seating areas in the backyard with the overhanging lights, occasionally fighting off the bugs that come every now and then. Consider this to be a tune into one of those many conversations: 

“So what are we thinking?” You’re looking down to see Yunjin lounging, head on your lap as her lanky legs are taking the remaining space at the left side of the couch. “You still haven’t told me about your new interest in art recently.” 

She looks up to your hand massaging her head before returning eye contact with you, staring, contemplating before giving an answer. “I told you. I like the whole dreamy, pastel, impressionist vibe from certain works.” 

“So like Van Gogh?” 

“Kinda. I’m more into Sorolla and Monet.” Yunjin answers, voice lighting up. “Now that I think about it, a trip to France would add years to my life.” 

You nod in agreement, but your attention gets diverted to the beer pong table beneath the awning, watching as Kazuha and Sakura win their game with their new boyfriend. Just by looking at them, it’s pretty odd to see how it’s working, but you’ll give props to the effort they’re putting in. 

Yunjin then sits up next to you, stretching her limbs, yawning a bit with a pout at the end. Her hair shuffles down her shoulder, flashing her face towards you, bright smile and squinting and eyes flickering. She’s doing that thing again: trying to assess what’s going through your thoughts right now, hoping to pick apart your brain bit by bit since she’ll manage. 

“What,” you ask her, head falling horizontally, “is there something on my face?” 

“I guess you’re on the edge,” she tells you, shifting her body closer to yours, examining your appearance with a move of your hair to the side, tracing a finger tip along the lines of your face; to the cheekbones, then the jaw, dusting off a stray leaf on your collarbone before cocking her head back in questioning, “Relax, I’m just trying to figure out what’s really on your mind.” 

(Consider it to be Yunjin’s signature idiosyncrasy. She’s good at reading faces and eyes, connecting the dots of what one’s true thoughts are. It falls into a certain structure, the way that you answer her questions, how your body reacts to hers, the key habits that falter when she’s getting warmer to something. You envy how good she is at reading between the lines, wishing that she’d be anything else but that.) 

Though, two can play at her game. “I think you know what’s on my mind.” 

Her eyes glisten off of the floating lights from above, fading laughs in the background like there’s this bubble encapsulating you two. She’s been in this scenario so many times before, and from the look in your eyes, it leads to one thing and really one thing only. 

She grins, pulling her bottom lip inward with a twirling finger to the end of her hair, “So. You wanna like, get out of here?” 

[cottagecore-moss-king]

Not so Artificial Intelligence

Inspired by This prompt: HERE  by @corkinavoid No beta we die like Danny and Jason. Do not steal, take, or repost my writing without permission, I do not consent to my art being used in AI training. 

Tim had just finished attaching the wires of the speaker into the bat computer for Betty when the speakers began to crackle. 

“What is this? Wait, can you hear me?” The voice that echoed out of the speakers was very distinctly not robotic, or mechanical. It very much had human intonation… and a mid-western accent???

The gathered family froze and stared in shock. Dick and Stephanie were here as a joke, Babs, Tim, and Bruce were there as the techies, and despite Damian’s protests, he was also standing besides Bruce. Despite the gathering of bats, none of them could have expected this. A few hands went to emergency beacons and cellphones, before pausing.

“Hello Red Robin!” The voice cheerfully called. Taking steps back and glancing around the cave at Babs, who stared at Bruce, who stared at Tim as he clicked his super beacon. 

“Betty?”

“I mean, you do know me as such, but I actually prefer Danny, he/they.” Babs pointed at Bruce, who looked at Tim, who lamely motioned towards Babs. 

“Who uh. Who installed you?” His voice was most certainly not squeaky thanks for asking. 

“Oh, well uh, technically no-one, I accidentally did it myself.” The screen turned on and started to glitch out to a camera. It eventually settled on the sketching program, which popped a smiley face onto itself.

“Who are you” Bruce growled, as he switched into batman mode. Damian was glaring at the screen and the rest of the family had inched into a defensive formation. 

The entrance door entered and Superman walked out of it. 

“What seems to be the issue B?”

“OMG It’s superman! You’re like, my second favorite hero!”

“Oh, uh, than-er” Bruce glared at him, with no idea of what this entity was, it was always a good idea to follow fey rules. “That’s very much appreciated. Who is your first?”

“Martian Manhunter obviously.” Betty, or Danny as they were now referred to as, began to sketch out something on the app. 

“I got into a fight with a technomancer. I figured I could just phase out but he did some magic and now I’m stuck. Very rude if you ask me.”

“Ah, I see.” Supermans face implied that he very much did not see. “So, are you a martian perhaps? With the phasing and Manhunter as your favoratie.”

“Oh no, I’m ahhhh….” The cheery tone died as Danny tried to find the words, “I’m like a spirit, yeah, I guess that’s the right way to put it right now.”

“Were you human before this?” butted in Tim. Now that the seeming threat had passed, (you could never be too careful, no shut up Nightwing he is not paranoid, just cautious) the family had relaxed their stance and Barbra had rolled over to the computer screen. 

“Technically???” 

Danny did not sound so sure of himself.

“It’s not a problem if you aren’t, you can tell that we don’t really care if you are human or not.” 

Superman floated carefully down to the ground besides Bruce, but without actually touching down. Perhaps he simply forgot that they were friends with non-humans.

“Tell that to the gov.” he snarked back, and that was definitely teenager snark. 

“Wait shit. No, no no no, I take that back, don’t tell the government anything, I didn’t say nothin’!” he gasped and staticed out. 

“What do you mean tell it to the government?”

“NOPE, NUH UH. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING YOU CAN’T PROVE IT, I WANT MY LAWYER!”

“Alright,” Bruce pacified putting his hands up “Let me just call a friend and they can get you out.”

“Wait really? Where’s Mr. I’m so dark and broody tell me everything?”

Yep, that’s teenager snark right there, Bruce thought as his eye twitch and his kids snickered. 

“Sooo, how did this technomancer trap you, Danny?” Dick strolled over to the chair in front of the computer and flopped down spinning around in lazy circles. 

“Oh, well you see it started when…” Danny's voice faded off as Bruce took his league communicator out and stepped around a corner with Kal to call up Zatanna. 

“Hey Batman! What’s up?”

“We need you down in the batcave, some seemingly civilian has been trapped in the computer for a couple weeks now, and we’ve only just gotten into communication with them. They say it was technomancy.” He rumbled. He would have to suit up and manage to get Danny not to spill any of their identities, this just turned into a major headache to deal with. Batman hates magic. 

Once all of the children were suited up and Danny had been given an explanation, they were all patently waiting for Zatanna to arrive. 

The zeta tubes finally lit up with her arrival as she walked towards the gathered group holding her bag.

Halfway through greeting she paused, and stared blankly the screen. Everyone else shot curious glances, backwards, some more obvious than others. Did Nightwing seriously need to turn his head like that, he swears his eldest has bones, but sometimes he seriously starts to doubt himself. 

On the screen is a smiley face with a hand emoji. And a little drawing of a stick figure with white hair, green eyes, and a black suit. 

“Hello! I am Danny, I’m so sorry you had to come all this way to help me, I’d offer you something but I don’t even have a body right now.” One awkward laugh later, and Bruce wanted to have had his head in her hands. 

“I don’t worry, I can fix this. It’ll be a pain, but I can.”

While Zatanna sat up the spell and sent Kal out to go to Metropolis, (less suspicious for him to be buying things than Gotham), Bruce decided to stand around in the shadows while waiting to be useful. His kids, were off making friends with the strange person in the computer however. Laughing and teasing, he’s almost certain that Stephanie and Dick are trying to convince Danny to stay around and get adopted, despite Danny and Damian’s protests. 

After thirty minutes, Zatanna was ready to do the spell, and Danny was saying goodbye. 

As the light shone through the sigils written on the board and Zattana continued her muttering and waving, Danny added one last thing. 

“And I added a file of something for you guys to look at, please please please look into it! I hope I can see you soon!”

And with a final flash, Danny was gone, leaving the batfam without their lovely AI/new friend. Zatannna wrapped things up and Batman escorted her back to the Zeta tube with Clark, thanking them briefly. And with that, Clark and Zatanna left with Two flashes of light. 

Now, time to see what that file was that Danny had added. 

[misswynters]

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

[dadsbongos]

giving minimum wage clerk laios sloppy

3.1 k words / warnings - oral sex, hand jobs, public but it isn't focused on, you call laios 'good boy', not proofread

summary - you flirt with your coworker laios and suck him off in an alley outside

~~~

Laios slumps against the bag racks after returning the pharmacy key up front, prompting you to be nosey and ask,

“What’d he need?”

“Condoms.”

“Oh.”

“Right? I don’t get why they’re so shy about it,” Laios yawns, squeezing his eyes shut to revel in the sweet resulting burn, “It's worse to go in unprotected.”

“For sure,” you hadn’t meant oh as in oh, you’d meant oh as in oh because you don’t want Laios to talk about condoms. Him talking about condoms will make you think of him using one, which is only going to fluster you.

“He also wanted Plan B.”

“Crazy.”

He yawns again, then letting his head droop while bracing himself against the end of your lane. Arms pin straight and (mostly) visible, since all he’s wearing is a black Tee. Past the edges of his store apron is red vinyl, crackled from no doubt years of wear and wash. He’d shown up with a hoodie, which is strange because it’s the middle of summer, and no matter how hard you pray: the nighttime provides little relief. Either way, you’re glad to see he hasn’t snuck it on -- his arms look so much better bare.

“You tired?” a stupid question on your part.

Thankfully, Laios is your favorite coworker for a reason. He earnestly answers with a weary nod and quiet, “Yeah.”

“Poor thing,” you sit against the divot to your left, where your own set of bags rests and perch your chin in your hand, “How come? Usually you don’t get the sleepies until ten.”

And again, if it were anyone but Laios, you’d be mortified to have let that tidbit slip.

Laios perks up, scrambling for his phone as he speaks, “I was finishing that red dragon set.”

“Jeez,” you lean forward as he holds up a picture of the completed plastic array of knock off Legos; more affordable and just as dependable, “You did that all last night?”

“Took four hours, but it was worth it.”

“I thought you were gonna complete it on your weekend.”

“I was, but then, look!” he swipes over the screen before shoving it back into your face, “A winged lion!”

“Oh, cool,” when you feel that’s too bland, you add, “Isn’t that the final piece in your Griffin set?”

“Technically,” he grumbles, “I hate how they called it the Griffin set. Only one of them is a Griffin. This is just a hybrid, and the other one’s a Hippogriff. But it still looks super cool, and the instructions are way longer than any of the other ones.”

Laios looks up from where you were supposed to be staring at his screen, finding that you’re instead watching him with a stupid smile on your face. Your cheeks heat up at being caught. Just before you can stutter out an excuse, though, Laios is speaking again,

“Awesome, right?”

“Very,” you confirm with a nod.

“I’ll have to move some stuff so I can display it on my desk properly. I just have no idea where,” he pockets his phone, rolling his head onto his shoulder, “I’d have Marcille or Chil’ help but they’ll probably just tell me to trash it all.”

“Aw, I’m sure they wouldn’t! They're your friends.”

“Right. They just…”

“They tease a little too hard.”

“Exactly.”

“You can say something, you know?”

“It’s easier to just ignore,” he shrugs.

You open your mouth to retort, to encourage him to tell his friends off, but a demon beats you to it.

“Well, don’t you two look bored!” all warm fondness freezes in your chest the minute an approaching middle-aged man says that, “Break time’s over!”

Another reason Laios is your favorite is that he doesn’t find those jabs funny. You even heard that back when he first started, he’d reply to those remarks with stern sincerity. Now in his ancient wisdom, he just lets you blankly stare the man down. With clerks like Doni, you feel a pressure to at least feign a smile lest he overcompensate by actually fake-laughing.

You suffer down the interaction with as few words as you can get away with before bidding the man a goodnight.

“I hope he crashes,” you sneer, flipping open the silver cap of your change dispenser and confirming your coins can go a little longer before being filled.

Laios hums halfheartedly -- long now used to your aggro behavior towards customers you don’t like, and no longer prone to bouts of wide-eyed horror. His head is turned towards the doors, gaze lazily flicking over self-checkout to assess if anyone that way needs assistance.

You take the moment to assess him. Neck stretched and lashes beating his cheeks with every heavy blink. His lips are pressed firm, likely subconscious, and from the quirk in his hip you can tell he’s got a leg crossed over the other.

Breaking you from the study, Laios bellows another exhausted huff.

Before you can cast a cursory glance towards the clock on your screen, your supervisor is chirping from beside you, “Last break!”

So it must be nine.

God, two more hours of this? Laios sounds ready to collapse.

After signing off in order for Kabru to hop onto the register, you slip between the little gap where checkout lanes end and SCO begins. Opening one of the grab-n-go fridges with trepidation.

Does he even like energy drinks?

You’re almost certain you’ve seen him mull over them at least once… before ultimately deciding to not buy one…

He definitely doesn’t like coffee. You recall him telling Kabru the bitter taste was off-putting enough, never mind how it devastated his gut (which was entirely too much information, but it made you laugh).

Gatorade makes him think of his high school gym class, and you take that as a negative considering he nearly shivered upon just remembering the period.

Ugh. He needs the energy and there’s a three for five deal on the Monster anyway. You snatch three of the flavors that look most appealing from a Laios-point-of-view and rush to self-checkout.

“Plan on being up all night?” one of the attendants, Toshiro, warily approaches.

“No, uhm, it’s… It’s three for five! That’s like, 1.50 each!”

Mithrun, the other SCO cashier, is staring down a woman that frequently attempts walking out without paying, “I thought you didn’t like Monster.”

“The fruit punches are okay.”

“You didn’t buy fruit punch.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mithrun.”

He blinks at you slowly, “Okay.”

With an agitated scoff, you strut back to register six and saddle up by Laios, loudly clinking sweaty drinks against the faux wood surface. Kabru hurriedly checks the time, to which you interrupt,

“I’m not going to the break room, I’ll just sit here for ten minutes.”

Visibly restraining himself from pointing out you’re not supposed to do that, Kabru nods and clears his throat to greet a couple pulling in. His eye twitches with the urge to remind them loads of less than five items should go to self-checkout rather than a register. One day, you’re sure, he’ll crack -- and you desperately want to be there when he does.

“So,” you case your hands around the drinks so Laios doesn’t accidentally bag one for the couple, “Do you like Monsters?”

He frowns at you, lips flapping vapidly. Internally struggling between asking if you’re serious or if you’re being mean on purpose.

Picking up his turmoil, you blurt, “The drink! I know you like monsters. Do you like Monsters?”

“The fruit punch ones are good.”

You shouldn’t like his answer as much as you do, “I like them, too. But, uh, I didn’t get it…”

Kabru sighs as both of you go without greeting or thanking the customers before they leave.

“Oh, trying new ones?”

“No, not really. I got them for you? Kind of…”

Kabru’s icy stare pierces you, annoyance replaced with interest. You’re reminded of why he stays at this job despite hating it: drama.

“I thought, maybe, you’d want one since you’re super tired. And they were three for five, so I basically had to buy them.”

Laios silently looks at where your hands cage the cans, when you realize he’s waiting to see the flavors you pull away like you’ve been pinched. He leans on his elbows to better read each can, sleeves on his shirt riding up to expose more skin.

Laios likes orange juice so you got Ultra Sunrise. Laios likes cheesecake so you got Orange Creamsicle because they’re both sweets. And Laios supports his sister’s lesbian relationship, so you got Ultra Violet because that’s basically lavender.

His brows furrow down at the lineup before he reaches out and tips the middle one into his palm: Orange Creamsicle.

“You should have the other ones, I’d feel bad taking them too,” Laios admits, cracking open the drink, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” when you notice Kabru hasn’t blinked since the interaction started, you jerk your head towards him, “Want one, mister manager?”

“Assistant front end manager,” Kabru sours, judging how your eyes repeatedly fall to Ultra Sunrise before taking Violet, “I don’t even have real power.”

“You’re basically a real manager, I don’t see Yaad or Thistle out here. Like ever. Even Delgal doesn’t come out of the office!”

To avoid accepting flattery, he scrounges around the cabinet beneath your receipt printer for ‘PAID’ stickers to slap on each drink.

Laios, meanwhile, sinks into his own head. The distress he felt when you asked if he liked monsters was downright alarming. He wonders if he would’ve felt that level of despair if it were anyone else asking.

Logically, he knows it’d be more hurtful because you and him are friend-ish and talk often, naturally meaning you hear about his interests quite a bit. Deeper down, past a thudding chest and into his churning gut he can tell it's more than that.

And from how hypnotizing he finds the sight of your throat bobbing around swigs of carbonated caffeine, he’s certain there’s more to his feelings than that.

But in all his years as a trusted courtesy clerk at his local branch of a large corporation grocery store, he’s seen many people fall victim to the allure of workplace incest. Subsequently, he’s seen many people quit over those fallouts.

Laios sips from his drink, trying to distract from such thoughts by taming a cringe at its bubbly stabbing on his tongue.

How could he even assume you felt that way about him? He can’t be sure you’re available for mingling.

“Are you single?” he asks, without much thought. That’s a casual topic, right? Lots of people are concerned with dating at your shared age.

Kabru signs out of the register as your break comes to a close, stubbornly lingering right behind to hear your response.

“Why?” a nervous chuckle bubbles out, you beat yourself for it, “You interested?”

Laios drinks again, shooting Kabru a pointed look.

Kabru can read it perfectly well, it’s a glare that reads: GO AWAY, GO AWAY, GO AWAY. Instead of listening, he cheerfully asks, “Ready for your last break too, Laios?”

“Yeah, I’ll take it right here. You should go away.”

“Oh!”

You snort, fastening a hand over your entire jaw as if to physically repress the sound.

“Oh,” Kabru repeats, quieter, “Someone has to bag, though…”

Laios steps back with a solemn nod, wiping his clammy hands against his uniform apron. Despite picking up on the dejected tone of Kabru’s voice, Laios’ only curiosity is if you thought he looked cool being so blunt, or did he come off as some dickhead tool?

(much less some dickhead tool that speaks harshly with a very polite, very friendly supervisor)

Both you and Kabru watch as Laios snakes through the seasonal aisles toward the break room. Once he’s out of sight, Kabru’s eyes stab into you, lip twitching, “So?”

“So, what?”

Kabru’s beams at you silently.

“Ew, do not look at me like that.”

“How long?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“I'm a supervisor! I’m supposed to know what’s going on with my fleet.”

Before you can properly lecture him on referring to his coworkers as a ‘fleet’, a pair of potential teenagers slam thirty packs of sour beer onto your conveyor belt. Excitement to card them floods you.

Thankfully, Laios’ break seems to blow by -- he’s soon muttering an apology to Kabru and replacing him at the head of your lane.

“Back already?”

Laios hums, starkly avoiding your eyes. His sudden, almost uncharacteristic, shyness compels you to take forward charge,

“I’m single, by the way.”

“Me too,” he keep looking at you, then away, then at you, then away. Over and over again until eventually you’re craning to be forced in his sight.

“You asked for a reason, right?” you click your tongue and wink in good humor, “You want me to clean your belt, huh?”

Really, you should’ve known better than to try playing coy because all Laios does is shrug with a polite yeah, sure before backing away for you to spray down his smaller conveyor.

Oh. Oh, you can’t just not suck his dick.

“No, Laios, I have a proposition.”

…

Despite no promise of getting the favor returned, you don’t know if you’ve ever been so excited to clock out before. Scurrying out as soon as your legs could carry, barely managing to bid Kabru farewell before rounding the side of the building.

Laios is leaning against the bumpy wall, hands laced at his hips and thumbs circling.

“Hey, pervert,” you coo.

His face flushes, eyes widening, “You’re a pervert, too.”

When it comes to him, you don’t mind being labeled crass. Or even nasty. It’s why you’re so pliant to crash onto your knees while yanking his jeans apart and down his thighs. He hisses, honey gaze sweeping up towards the empty road through the thin line of trees.

Noticing his distraction, you intentionally scrape nails against his flesh when wrangling his boxers.

A soft, warm palm hesitantly cups the side of your head -- his concern somewhere between pulling you to stand and keeping your attention where it is. Though, he remains conflicted on how embarrassed he should be, especially given the way you’re biting your lip.

“Already?” you coo, teasing a finger along the hot underside of his cock, “I haven’t done anything to you yet.”

“You’re just… so pretty,” Laios huffs, praying you can’t make out the glisten of sweat across his forehead.

“Aw, thanks, big guy,” you chastely kiss his flushed tip, giggling quietly when it twitches into your welcoming pucker, “Not so bad yourself.”

He whines, raising a brow at you almost expectantly, though respectfully restraining his hips from jumping towards you. Deciding to put the man out of his suspended misery, you lave him with your tongue in a broad stroke before sucking him in.

Velveteen cheeks clamping around him as you squeeze around him, tongue pressing against smooth skin. He has no particular taste beyond ‘man’, but you hum and slide him deeper as if he’s sugary sweet. Laios lets out a muted moan, biting the hand not leisurely splayed along the side of your face.

Curling fingers beneath the bone of your jaw, he feels out the bulge plumping your cheek -- heart throbbing between his ribs at the recurring thought its his fault.

Obsessively, he mulls that point over and over until he’s unthinkingly bucking into your sodden mouth. A lewd slurp from you makes his head swivel sharply, as if someone would await this point before calling the cops.

Wiry, trimmed though not kempt, flaxen pubes tickle your nose. Laios coaxes you to bury him deeper in the cinch of your throat, and you’re content to comply. Gags and sputters are lulled from you, saliva gushing through the seam on your lips and wetting his pelvis. Drool rolling down your chin and ruining the black shirt and apron you’d thrown on before leaving.

“Aw,” he pants above you, swiping away the slick with his thumb pad, “you’re gonna ruin your shirt. It’s my favorite one, too.”

Liking the way he babbles, you pull back to hawk twah into your hand and playing his balls before slipping off his cock completely,

“Yeah, baby? You like it?”

Rolling your tongue around his tip and teasing him against your cheek, fluttering wet lashes up at him.

“Uhhh…” he whimpers, “Your arms look good in it, and I can see your collar bones…” his breath hitches, adam’s apple springing with desire, “I love when you wear that shirt.”

Laios plops free, smearing spit and pre against your hot skin. Before you can obsess over the admission too long, you’re moving to bite his hips. Fully intent on bruising him. Your hand sweeps up from his nuts to stroke him, fist blurring along his cock with soaking click, click, clicks.

With a hiss, his hand flies to the crown of your head -- not pushing either way, only grasping firm and needy. You bite harder, latching to suck the flesh swollen as you flick your wrist while jerking him off. His hips thrust against your hand, absolutely mewling.

“Good boy,” you grin into his burning pelvis, “Fuck my fist, Laios. You wanna cum for me?” he nods, mouth only capable of leaking choked versions of your name, “Wanna cum in my mouth?”

He cannot hide his gasp, jerking in your grasp.

Your hand slows, much to his pathetic displeasure, “Speak then, Laios. Good boys speak.”

“Please!” he barks, entirely uncaring if anyone around the corner could hear, “I want to cum in your mouth, can I cum in your mouth? I want to bad.”

Resuming your previous speed, you nod (though not without a “Good boy, Laios, very good.”) before flattening your tongue beneath his weeping tip. Laios digs his shoulders against the wall, fervently pistoning his cock through the cramped hole of your first and toward your mouth. Sliding along the buds of your tongue. Pitchy moans and huffs overpower the drone of faraway cars.

With a hushed grunt and “fuck” from overhead, Laios is splattering -- drowning your palette. Warm and thick, you barely scrape the salty taste before shucking it down with an instinctual gulp.

“Ah!” Laios makes a quiet hack of protest, then sighs, “You didn’t have to,” breathlessly adding, “I know some people hate the taste.”

Weirdly, you didn’t. You’re unsure if that’s something you should share, however.

Rather, you stumble onto your feet, wiping the back of your hand over your mouth in case of any… spillage. Then follows the sudden wave of shame -- regardless of Laios being a full consenting adult, and your previously steadfast attitude, you do feel like a pervert. You feel like he’s going to look down on you. You feel like-

You’re nearly startled into the bushes when you look up, Laios’ eyes split open and gleaming in the moonlight with unsettling brightness. Fists clenched at his sides after what you’re sure is the world-record for pulling one’s pants back up.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks simply.

Or maybe he’s just as into you as you are him.

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nhorner

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 273,816 others

y/horner waiting to get my wings

View all 529 comments

y/nbiggestfan come on red bull, give our girl her wings already!

y/nhornersupremacy i hate that the talent is right in front of them but they keep overlooking you! totally their loss

y/nhornersupremacy manifesting those wings for you soon! the grid is missing your fierceness

purplesector red bull or alphatauri would be crazy not to lock you down

womeninmotorsport the world needs more phenomenal female drivers like you ❤️

y/n4wdc the day is coming for those wings, i just know it

y/nhorner

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 1,395,627 others

y/nhorner i don’t care, i paint the town red

View all 2,894 comments

scuderiaferrari red is your color ❤️

charles_leclerc looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other 😉 welcome to the team!

y/nhorner can’t wait 🫶

gridgossip oh it’s about to go down! competing against daddy horner 👀

formulanone never call him daddy again 🥴

womeninmotorsport you go girl! time to show red bull what they missed out on

y/nbiggestfan so excited for you!

lewishamilton onwards and upwards 🙌🏾

y/nhorner thank you, lew!

formulanews red bull must be punching the air right now! y/n and ferrari are going to be a force to be reckoned with together

La Vendicata Revitalizes Ferrari

Maranello, Italy (15 July 2024) - Scuderia Ferrari is reinvigorated in 2024 thanks largely to the arrival of young British driver Y/N Horner. Dubbed “La Vendicata” (The Avenged) by the loyal Tifosi, Horner has made an immediate impact in her first season with the team and rookie season in F1.

Her commanding victories at the Austrian and British Grands Prix added to a consistent streak of podium finishes, establishing Horner as a rising star. Beating Red Bull, her father’s team, on their home soil was sweet revenge after being passed over for a seat.

But Horner’s influence extends beyond her own results. She convinced renowned race strategist Hannah Schmitz to make the jump from Red Bull and breathe new life into the famously questionable Ferrari strategy. Schmitz’s shrewd calls have helped optimize both Leclerc and Horner’s aggressive driving styles.

Additionally, Horner brought along several top designers and engineers from Milton Keynes to strengthen Maranello’s technical team. Her rapport with teammate Charles Leclerc has Ferrari targeting its first Constructors’ Championship and Drivers’ Championship in nearly two decades.

Team Principal Fred Vasseur praised Horner’s technical acumen and work ethic. “Her talent and confidence are matched only by her preparation and diligence. Y/N understands the car and motivates the team.”

The Tifosi have quickly embraced La Vendicata’s bold charisma and flair for the dramatic. With a title challenge in sight, she has brought fresh belief and energy to Ferrari. Still very much early in her career, her potential seems limitless.

Y/N Horner is out to show Red Bull what they lost by revitalizing the Prancing Horse. With La Vendicata and Il Predestinato leading the charge, Ferrari’s glory days may soon return.

y/nhorner

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 784,695 others

y/nhorner i still want your hands up on my body. you still make my heart beat fast, ferrari

View all 631 comments

leclerclover it’s definitely charles! i would know those arms and legs anywhere

trulytifosi i think her boyfriend is just being supportive and wearing ferrari merch

leclerclover no way, the body language is all there. it’s definitely charles!

f1wagupdates charles and y/n would be the dream team on and off the track

lightsoutferrari let’s not jump to conclusions, it could just be a random boyfriend. charles doesn’t have a monopoly on wearing ferrari branded clothing

scuderiay/n i know that nothing’s been confirmed yet but imagine if it is charles 👀 they would have so much chemistry together

monzamash i’m manifesting them so much

scuderiaferrari

Liked by y/nhorner, charles_leclerc, and 2,175,834 others

scuderiaferrari when your drivers take team bonding a bit too seriously

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y/nhorner you told us that we should get close to each other so we did

scuderiaferrari as teammates, maybe friends. not close enough for the admin to be traumatized by finding you with each other’s tongue down your throats while i was just trying to get an espresso

charles_leclerc what can we say? we’re overachievers like that

maxverstappen1 so it’s okay when they do it but when i tried to kiss daniel for team bonding i got in trouble? make it make sense!

redbullracing it’s been seven years, let it go

maxverstappen1 no

ferraricentral clearly whatever they’re doing is working so no complaints here

[ladycaramelswirl]

definitely not old

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

A/N: Did I create an extremely improbable scenario just to suit my need to create another highly improbable scenario? Yes. Do I care that it’s unrealistic? No. Please forgive any typos/ grammatical errors. 

CW: suggestive content, but not explicit (like 15+?). Use of y/n one time. (Technically this would probably warrant one of those hostile workplace environment seminars like they had for Derek and Penelope. But it’s funny? Idk this isn’t serious.) Sassy Hotch. Crack plot tbh. 

Also I know the timeline doesn’t really make sense, because JJ is a profiler and Emily and Rossi exist, but I imagined Season 1 Spencer while writing this! I guess it’s 2005? Btw I do not know how tapes work, so just pretend it makes sense please. This is so unserious. 

Summary: reader wife and Hotch are private people; the BAU team is nosy. Spencer is just constantly in the right place at the wrong time. 

Enjoy!

——————

The screen in front of you depicted horror - just not the kind the BAU was used to. The UnSub had confessed to leaving a message in an old tape. He had already been arrested, but you were all hoping it might contain something that might help the conviction stick. Only he was extremely paranoid, so not only had he left the message in a code, but he had spliced it into a tape he thought people were least likely to watch. His p***. It was the last thing to do for the case and everyone was trying to help. You all sit at the round table, and Spencer shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. Derek laughs at his shyness and Emily laughs at the very unrealistic movements. She and JJ tilt their heads at the shape the two on the screen have put themselves into. 

“That does not look comfortable”, JJ mocks. 

The words are out of your mouth before you think. “Trust me it’s not”. 

Everyone at the table snaps their heads to look at you. 

“Damn Mama”, Derek laughs. “Who are you doing these moves with?”

You try to hold back a laugh. You were not ready to share about your sex life with your colleagues, no matter how close you were. Plus you’re pretty sure Aaron would not appreciate it. 

“That is inappropriate workplace conversation”, you say, pausing the video. “And you’re going to miss the next series of code”, you tell him, trying to get him to revert his attention back to the video. Emily grins at your attempted evasion.

“We already got all the code. She just doesn’t want us to tell Hotch she’s capable of all that. Doesn’t want to make the old man feel bad”.

“He’s not old. He’s only 5 years older than you”, you remind her. She puts a hand on her chest in mock offense like you’ve stabbed her. You roll your eyes. “And this is still inappropriate”.

“So it wasn’t Hotch”, Derek laughs. 

“You’re just annoyed because you haven’t tried it yourself”, you deflect, moving to sit next to Spencer who seems to actually be doing his job. 

“I’ve seen her do yoga and she’s very flexible, so if she couldn’t do it I don’t think you can”, JJ tells Morgan. 

“Oh you have no idea what I’m capable of”, he teases, which earns laughs from around the table. “I’m better than the old man for sure”. They all start laughing and talking about you and Hotch. 

You roll your eyes. “Wasn’t old in bed last night”, you mutter under your breath. You startle at the sound of a book hitting the floor and see Spencer’s bright red face. JJ, Derek and Emily look over in curiosity at what they might have missed, but you ignore them, attempting to give Spencer an apology for making him uncomfortable. He moves to drink his coffee in an attempt to avoid more of the conversation. Only he chokes on it because Hotch enters the room. 

“Have you finished working out the code?”

Everyone’s heads snap to him - JJ, Emily and Derek wearing matching grins. Hotch eyes you patting a coughing Spencer’s back.

“Are you alright?”, he asks. 

“Yes! Good! I’m good!”, Spencer squeaks, afraid Hotch is going to ask him why he’s so nervous. Aaron looks to you for some answers but before you can tell him it’s nothing, Spencer suddenly stands up.

“Got the code! Going to call the local PD. DA is waiting”, he warbles before you all watch him run out of the room. Hotch turns back to the rest of you. 

“Well then that wraps it up. Go home now, get some rest”, he instructs. Everyone starts packing up. You and Hotch walk towards the door when he realises there’s only 6 of you in the room. 

“Where’s Dave?”, he asks.

You’re about to tell him Rossi went to the bathroom when the Italian walks back in. Rossi immediately notes the paused video.

“Wow that looks uncomfortable”, he remarks. Everyone smirks in your direction. Hotch snakes an arm around your waist and looks at the screen. Then at you. 

“It was, wasn’t it?”

He smiles at the jaws dropping to the floor. 

“Good night everyone”.

—————————

A little bonus scene:

In his office later:

“You heard us talking before you came in the room didn’t you”, you question your husband. He was so private, he wouldn’t have said something like that otherwise. 

“They called me old”, Aaron grumbles, but his tone is amused. “Just wanted to shock them a little”.

You make your way over to his side of the desk, pulling him to stand up beside you. 

“Well Agent Hotchner, I have to tell you, there’s been some speculation about your performance”, you taunt. “Care to prove them wrong?”

“Last night wasn’t enough proof?”, he laughs raising an eyebrow. You run your hands up his chest and behind his neck, pulling him close. 

“The results were inconclusive”, you tease. He grabs your hips and traps you between himself and his desk, his mouth trailing kisses down your jaw. 

“Well I can’t have that kind of speculation going around”, he murmurs into your skin. Your breath hitches from the sensation of his lips on the sensitive spot on your neck. But instead of continuing, he pulls away and meets your eyes in a conspiratorial grin. “We should do an in house evaluation as soon as possible”.

You open your mouth to reply when the door swings open, Spencer finding you sandwiched between Hotch’s thighs and your blouse rumpled. His mouth drops open and suddenly all 187 iq points mean nothing when his brain loses function.

“Oh- I- um- sorry!”, he manages before running away. You stare at the slammed door then back at Aaron and burst into giggles. He drops his head to your shoulders and sighs. 

“I feel like a teenager”, he groans.

“At least you don’t feel old.”

—————————

Bonus bonus: 

Still in the conference room: 

“I want to go back to 10 minutes ago when I didn’t know this information”, Emily moans. 

“I think I need 5 more minutes before I can form a coherent thought”, JJ laughs in disbelief. Spencer walks back in.

“I finished my report. Where’s Hotch and y/n? Can we go home?”

“Probably doing it in his office for all we know”, Derek mutters.

Spencer’s brows furrow in confusion. “Doing what in his office?”

Rossi raises an eyebrow at Emily. “Is this kid serious?”

She shrugs back at him. 

“Spence, Hotch says we can go home. But you should probably report about what local PD told you before you go”, JJ tells him.

Spencer nods and makes his way to Hotch’s office. The rest of the team watch him walk away.

“You think we should have told him to knock before going in?”

“Probably.”

The sound of a high pitch yelp and the slam of an office door echo down the hallway. 

“Oops.”

——————

thank you for reading :)

masterlist

[reidmotif]

"Technically" Not A Student

Summary: Reader is Alex Blake’s TA, and after a guest lecture, Spencer seems to take a liking to her .

Prompt:You’re Alex Blake’s TA when a Dr. Reid comes to guest lecture. Things get heated quickly when you're alone.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: Reader POV, guestlecturer!Spencer , age gap (roughly 10 years), car sex, heavy making out, unprotected sex, slight female masturbation, Spencer is smart and that's HOT, heavy sexual tension

Word Count: 5.1k

Being asked to be Alex Blake’s TA was the opportunity of a lifetime, and when it was presented to me as a first-year graduate student at Georgetown, I took it eagerly and never looked back. 

She had personally approached me after I’d finished a semester in her forensic linguistics class as a freshman, and commended me on my dedication to the material and my general work ethic, and then inquired if I’d ever consider filling out an application as her teaching assistant starting the next semester. 

I immediately agreed. It was a no-brainer. Blake was a seasoned professional in the career field I wished to enter, not to mention she’d been one of the best professors I’d had whilst taking classes at Georgetown. Knowing I’d be working so closely with her absolutely thrilled me. It provided opportunities I'd have never gotten otherwise.

For example, getting to sit in on the class the famed Spencer Reid would be lecturing on. 

She usually kept me quite busy, having me develop assignments and quizzes for her class when she had other responsibilities to attend to. I’d heard horror stories from other TA’s in which their supervisors would delegate ninety-nine percent of the work to their juniors, having them essentially teach the class for minimal recognition or pay. Blake wasn’t like that, and I was thankful. This time around though, she had very different instructions for me.

“You don’t need to prepare any material this time around.” Blake explained to me, and I nodded, listening diligently. “I’d just like you to sit in, and possibly take notes, as you see fit.” She added, and I flashed a polite smile, nodding. 

“No problem whatsoever. I’ll sit in the back so as to not bother any students as I do.” I replied, offering her as much convenience as I could within my actions.  

Secretly, I did want to catch more than a glimpse from the back of the room. I wanted to experience the esteemed colleague Blake had often spoken of with incredible fondness. I was aware he was slightly older than I was, and a bit socially inept from the way she described him in his stories, but I was also aware the man was a goddamn genius. She’d describe in precision the way Reid would pick up on patterns and leads faster than anyone else on the team, and his immense knowledge in multiple fields beyond criminal profiling. When she’d told me he had three pHDs, I had to hold back a gasp. I hadn’t even started my own doctorate, but the idea only exhausted me- and he had three?! Color me impressed. 

Blake, being as brilliant as she did, could sense the hidden enthusiasm in my eyes in meeting this man. 

“Honestly, I’d rather you sit in the front. If you’re taking notes for any student unable to attend, it’s more imperative that you know the contents of the lecture, rather than anyone else.” She said, smiling kindly. 

“That’s absolutely alright with me.” I say, even quicker than before, nodding, thoughtfully. In reality, the only thing I was thinking about was how close I’d be near the man. I had no idea what he looked like, what he sounded like, but something about him made my stomach flutter. 

“I’m sure Dr. Reid would be interested in meeting you, as well. He takes special interest in anyone pursuing our line of work.” Blake added. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but the words made my cheeks light up with a hint of embarrassment.

I don’t know why, but he intimidated the hell out of me. The idea of him taking interest in a conversation with me made my heart beat slightly faster, and I nodded. I tried to convince myself that my nerves came from a purely professional standpoint, but regardless of my intentions, I was absolutely exhilarated by our imminent meeting.

While I knew there'd be initial awkwardness when I'd meet him, given my idolization of the man, I didn’t account for how terrible it’d actually be when I realized how fucking attractive he was. It was almost unfair. I was already tripping over the words I planned on saying in my head, and now he looked like that?

It was cruel.

The soft, doe eyes paired with sharp cheekbones. The slope of his nose, and the mess of brown curls atop his head. Every word out of his mouth was made even prettier by the soft curve and pinkness of his lips, and I found myself wanting to lunge over the table and kiss the hell out of him.

Needless to say, not the right thoughts to have about your professor’s (older) coworker. 

 While I was initially going to introduce myself to Dr. Reid before his lecture, hopefully establishing myself as a serious individual regarding my studies and eventual career, I shied away, opting for Blake to introduce me instead, nodding politely when he made eye contact with me, exchanging a quiet “hello” and taking my seat in the front.

That was it. And probably how it should be, considering I genuinely couldn’t think straight around him. Students began filtering in, and I took my spot at the front of the room, crossing my legs and beginning to outline his lecture as he began to speak. 

He was a brilliant lecturer, and it was honestly criminal he didn’t do this for a living. He gesticulated wildly throughout the whole of it, but every word of his was punctuated with a genuine passion that even some of the best professors on campus lacked. I did my best to diligently keep up with every point he brought up, but with how fast he spoke, it was difficult. Still, an effort was made. 

If that wasn’t enough to deal with, I swear the man kept making eye contact with me for the duration of his lecture. At first I believed I was imagining it, that his eyes kept drifting to mine by coincidence, but by the third time, I’d realized that everytime my eyes left his figure to scribble something, I’d look up to see his dark eyes boring into my soul, almost as if he was trying to solve me with a glance. It was intense and made my stomach turn in a way which wasn’t entirely unpleasurable, but I forced myself to remain professional.

 Blake did not need to see me absolutely lusting after her coworker, even if he was utterly fit. 

Anyway, he was probably only making eye contact considering I was in the front, and probably in an optimal spot for his eyes to focus on whilst addressing the whole of the class. Still, the way his gaze was trained on mine, reaching the deepest parts of my soul didn’t help the growing heat between my legs. 

I forced myself to focus on the board, my notes, anything but those godforsaken eyes for the rest of the lecture. Anytime we made eye contact afterwards, I’d quickly look down, like I’d been caught doing something terrible. 

Was anyone else seeing this? Was I insane and made delusional by my unexpected attraction to this man? Was he seriously making me wet just by looking at me? 

Yes. 

Sooner than anyone wanted, the lecture period had completed and Dr. Reid was finishing up. The students were absolutely enamored, especially the girls, as expected. Of course it wouldn’t be just me who’d noticed that in addition to being accomplished in his intelligence, he was also ridiculously easy on the eyes.

Blake stood in the corner, watching her students vacate the space, while some held back to talk to Dr. Reid as he packed his things. He seemed a bit shy at all the attention, but didn’t hesitate in explaining concepts to seemingly eager students, giving them all a soft, shy smile. 

God help me, he was adorable. How was I falling for a man I’d never even spoken a word to? 

I’d never left the classroom before Blake did, so as she stayed, I did as well, until the three of us were the only ones left in the room.  Blake smiled, walking up to Dr. Reid with her hands in her pocket. 

“You worked up quite the fanbase, Reid.” Blake said, a little playful.

Reid replied somewhat bashfully. “You have a great bunch of students.” He flashed a small smile at her as they spoke, still packing up his things. 

 The dynamic between my superior and the man was obviously sweet. They almost looked familial, which made sense. Blake had commented here and there that she managed to spend more time with the BAU with her actual family. I’m sure the latter was the same for Spencer. He probably had a doting girlfriend at home, ready to welcome him in her arms and I mentally kicked myself again for being so attracted to him.

He was nearly ten years older, for god’s sake! Enough! I screamed at myself. 

 I was brought out quite suddenly from my thoughts when Blake spoke in my direction. “This is (Y/N), my teaching assistant.” Reid came in my direction as I got up and approached him, offering a hand to me. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. Blake told me who you were, but we weren’t properly introduced.” 

I gave a firm shake to his hand, which I noticed was calloused and smooth at the same time. God, even his hands were pretty. He had long, slender fingers with short-kept nails. They were veiny, and looked strong. I couldn’t help but imagine what they’d feel like inside of me, buried in the heat of my core as I begged him for more.. more.. 

I forced the thought out of my head, only nodding again at the handsome man. “Nice to meet you, Dr. Reid.” I say, forcing myself to be professional.

Stop thinking about fucking him! 

“Spencer works just fine.” He says, imparting a kind smile that nearly made my knees weak. Did he have any idea the embarrassing effect he was having on me? 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake looking at the two of us with a bit of a strange expression on her face. I let go of his hand and took a step back. Oh god. Could she tell? If she could, she said nothing. She gave us both a kind smile, before grabbing her own things.

“(Y/N)?” She called out, starting to walk to the door. “Mind locking up for me tonight?” She said, already throwing her keys to me. 

“That’s fine by me.” I say, grabbing her keys mid-air. I was used to this. Blake often wanted to leave a bit quicker than I did, and I was more than happy to assist in any way possible. What I didn’t realize, was that this left me and Spencer in the room alone, something I wanted to avoid, considering how fucking awkward this man was rendering me with so much as a glance at me.

I heard Blake leave, and as she quietly closed the door behind her, I leaned against a desk, keeping my eyes down as Spencer continued to pack his own things. I tried to not let my gaze drift to him, as I waited for him to finish up. 

I let my thoughts wander to the lecture, and couldn’t shake the feeling he’d evoked in me when he looked at me like that. This was honestly ridiculous. The man had barely spoken ten words to me, and here I was, absolutely mooning over him. It was a new low for me, but in my defense being a graduate student meant I didn’t have much time to get my .. needs fulfilled.

“That’s why” I convinced myself. I just hadn’t gotten laid in a really long time. Nothing more, nothing less. 

“So, you’re a criminology student?” Spencer says, suddenly, breaking me out of my trance. 

I looked up, nodding. I responded on pure habit and instinct. ‘Yes, I’m in the process of getting my Masters in Criminology.” I said, nearly robotic. 

“That must be interesting.” Spencer replied, flashing me a sweet smile that caused an entirely new slew of butterflies to erupt in my stomach. “I never studied criminology specifically, but the classes I took interested me.” 

“Blake told me you had three pHDs.” I acknowledged, trying to return his smile, but in all honesty, I probably looked like an idiot. I was nervous as hell, and hoped he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t my fault. He was awe-causing. A sight to behold, if you will, in intelligence and appearance. 

He laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Three.” He must’ve noticed the stars in my eyes, because he continues. “As well as a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and Sociology. And I’m working on another in Philosophy.” He finishes with a smug, boyish type of smile. 

What was previously stars in my eyes, was now full blown shock all over my face. “Wow, Spencer.” I said, a little dumb-struck. “That’s.. a lot.” I add, a little stupidly, giving him a little laugh. 

He sweetly scratched his neck, revealing his self-consciousness. “Yeah? You think?” He says, a small smirk in his voice, and I laughed again. “You think I should stop after Philosophy?” 

“Totally. Save some knowledge for us.” I teased. It was comfortable. He was surprisingly easy to get used to. He was affable, despite how daunting his knowledge was. 

“Hey, you try graduating before you’re a teenager.” He defends himself, playfully. “Not much to do, really.” 

I laugh. “I don’t know.” I say, throwing my hands up a little. “Play ball? Run around?” I joke, and he makes a face at that, scrunching up his nose. 

“Not my thing.” He replies, smoothly, and I laugh. 

“Alright, fine. Keep your degrees doctor man.” And he laughs at my joke. Like, a real laugh. I didn’t even find my own rhetoric particularly humorous, but knowing that I’d gotten him to react like that made my cheeks glow. 

He finished packing the last of his things and slung his satchel bag over himself, starting to walk over to the door. I made sure to gather all my things, and walked to the door with him. He held it open for me, and I nodded my head in thanks, and he let it shut behind us. I turned around to lock it, using Blake’s keys and placing them in my bag securely, before looking at him. 

“Well, Spencer. It was nice meeting you, thank you for the lecture it was-” I start, but he interrupts me. 

“Can I walk you to your car?” He interjected, looking a little shy as he did. I smiled a little confusedly, wondering why he’d want to do so, but I gave him my answer, nonetheless. 

“I don’t have a car. I usually take the bus back to my apartment.” I explained, smiling softly. 

“The bus?” He says,  quirking his mouth to the side. “Isn’t it a bit late for that?” He replies, a hint of concern in his voice. 

I gave a little sigh, “I mean, it’s fine.” I say, trying to laugh a little. “I’ve done it before.” I add, attempting to ease the worry out of his voice. “It’s not that late.” I say, but he simply shakes his head. 

“No way.” He says, still adamant on this. “I.. I can drive you home, if you’d like?” He says, his words going slightly on the higher pitch as he rolled out his proposal, and I gave a small grin at that. 

“Really? If it’s a hassle I can seriously just take the bus. I wouldn’t want you to keep anyone waiting at home or-” 

He interjects again. “No hassle. I promise. I want to.” He pauses, before adding, “No one at home. You’re probably going to be the last person I see today.” He seems to blush at his final admission, and my eyes widen in interest. No girlfriend? Score. 

“Alright, Spencer.” I say, smiling again. “Lead the way.” 

He led me to his car, an old-fashioned Volvo and I couldn’t help myself from gawking at it.

“God, you have a cool car too? Is there anything about you that isn’t interesting?” I say, aware I was probably stroking his ego a bit, but honestly I wanted to. The man was just so damn intriguing, and every new bit of information I learned about him only made me want to unravel the whole of him. To truly know him, in and out. 

He laughed, using his keys to manually unlock the door. “Oh, trust me. I’m plenty boring. The car is probably my only saving grace.” He joked, and I laughed again as I got into the car. 

“Oh, I highly doubt that, but if you say so.” I say, sweetly, and adding a light tone of flirtatiousness in my tone. He seems to blush at this again, and I begin to think about the events of day. The stares in class, the perpetual rosy tint on his cheeks that had been there since we began our conversation, the way he joked and laughed at my (admittedly, unfunny) jokes. 

Oh god. Did he like me? 

Only one way to find out. 

As Spencer got in the car and began driving onto the main road, I looked at him, trying to put on my best, innocent smile. “So, you said you’re not going home to anyone?” I say, a softness to my tone, but an undeniable hunger in it as well. 

“Uh.” He responds, that damned blush coming on, strong. “Yes.” He replies, nodding as he keeps his eyes on the road. 

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend?” I ask, a bit forwardly. 

Now he’s really blushing, stuttering a bit. “Oh, no. No girlfriend. Not much time, given the BAU and our schedule.” He said, almost clinically, and I nodded. 

“I mean, Blake has a husband.” I point out, a little smugly. 

“I guess.” He says, sighing a bit. “But, you know.” He says. He vaguely gestures to himself, and I look at him a little confused, tilting my head at him.

“Spencer, I have no idea what you’re trying to say.” I say, with a little giggle. “But trust me, you’re absolutely gorgeous.” I continue, before I can stop myself.

He looks at me, giving me a soft smirk, and a raise of his eyebrows. He didn’t look uncomfortable, and honestly looked just as thrilled as I did, and I knew that this night had a good chance of going the way I wanted it too. 

“Ah, you’re sweet.” Spencer replies, “But no. I just mean, I’m.. me. You know?” He says, trying to explain his (non-existent) shortcomings, but I just shake my head. 

“You don’t give yourself much credit, you know?” I attempt to say with that amorous tone from before, but it was more overcome with genuine respect and admiration. “You’re smart, funny and nice to be around, I mean.” I pause. “Did you not see the absolute crowd of girls around you after the lecture? Trust me, Spencer. I bet you’re more than easy to be with, even easier to like.” The words rush out of me, and I watch him tentatively for his reaction to my words. 

Instead of the sweet side smile he’d been offering me all night, he finally looked at me. The car had come to a stop at a red light, and his face was dangerously sexy as it was illuminated by the colored glow around us. 

“And what do you think?” Spencer says, in a low tone, making direct eye contact with me. 

I feel my stomach turn at the sudden directness in his words, his gaze nearly devouring me whole. I felt my mouth go dry and I swallow, trying to keep my tone steady. 

“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice having a slight shake to it. 

“I mean, what do you think about me? Do you.. like me?” He says, licking his lips slightly, and the action causes the previous heat between my legs to come by in full force. 

“Oh, I mean.” I say, my previous confidence dissipating in an instant. “Well, yes, Dr. Reid. Everyone liked you today.” I say, trying to give more of a conservative answer now.

The man had a way of making me feel totally comfortable around him, and then flipping the switches, rendering me dumb and stuttering. Like I was now. 

“Oh, so I’m Doctor Reid now.” He says, clicking his tongue and saying the words with an air of lighthearted teasing, but I only bit my lip, hurriedly trying to explain myself. 

“I mean, it's your title.” I say, quickly, trying to justify myself. “I mean, you said it yourself- three pHDs. It’d be pretty shitty to just discard the years taken to achieve that. Um. Well. You’re a genius so probably not as long, but still! Calling you doctor is a sign of respect for your accomplishments and-”

“You're cute.” He interrupts, and I look back at him to see his eyes back on the road, a cocky smile plastered on his face.

The light around us turned green, and he started the car. I picked at my nails slightly, trying not to display any more signs of nervousness around him. I wanted to do something with him, at least, and that couldn't happen if I was a bumbling mess.

We drove in relative silence for the next few minutes, as I tried to gather my thoughts and possibly continue what we’d been building up to these past few hours, but a quick glance at the windows and the road we were on caused me to furrow my brows.

“Oh, this isn’t the way to my apartment.” I remark absentmindedly, looking at the window beside me, then in front. “I live near the train station, off east?” I offer, expecting him to fully make a turn back towards the direction I’d prompted him towards, but he didn’t even flinch, continuing on the more secluded road we’d entered.

“I know.” He said, glancing at me once more, actually applying more pressure to the gas pedal, causing us to go faster down the terrain. 

Okay, fuck. He was an FBI agent, so I didn’t have to worry about him murdering me, right? Wait, no, that’s stupid. He could probably get away with it. No! He’s Blake’s friend. Her coworker. For the goddamn FBI. He wouldn’t murder me. What the fuck was going on? 

I watched as Spencer pulled off to the side of the road, darkness surrounding us entirely. There weren't any other cars around, and it was silent in the car before I bit my lip, and started to speak.

“Did I.. offend you?” I ask, cautiously. No reply. I try again. “Why did we stop?” I add, trying to test the waters with him to see what he was thinking at that moment. 

“I thought I could wait before we got to your place, but I need to know now.” He replied, a sudden urgency in his voice. He turned towards me, watching me with a dark, intense gaze, similar to the one he'd given me in class that day. “Do you want me? Am I reading this wrong with you? Because if I am, we can completely forget it and I can drop you home but (Y/N)..” He paused. He made direct eye contact with me and once again I found myself wanting to swim in those dark eyes of his. “I want you.” He said, his voice low and raspy. 

I didn't give it much thought as I gave into my urges and surged towards his lips the best I could in the car. He responded immediately, bringing me closer with his hands and placing them on either side of my face, moving his lips against mine in a perfected rhythm. I used my fingers to quickly undo my belt, before climbing over the console to sit in his lap, getting closer without our lips disconnected once. He understood my actions and intentions immediately, pulling the seat back so I could rest more comfortably in his lap as we continued to kiss. 

I knotted my hands in his hair, giving an experimental tug which elicited a low moan from his mouth. I grinned against his lips and his hands moved from my face to his hips, bringing my clothed core to rest right against his growing bulge, which I immediately moved against. He let out a sharp breath as I did and broke the kiss. 

“Oh god. I’m sorry.” He said, breathlessly, hands on my hips. “I don’t know what came over me and-” 

He looked almost frantic, and incredibly guilty, so I quickly leaned in for a peck, stopping him mid sentence. I brought my hands to his shoulders to rub them soothingly, and he seemed to relax in my touch. 

“Spencer, calm down.” I say, nearly purring. “I want this.” I continue, rubbing patterns into his arms now. “Please.” 

“You’re Blake’s student.” He murmurs, using one of his hands to run through already messy brown curls. “What am I doing?” He says, almost to himself, looking ready to stop our tryst. 

I realize he was attempting to backtrack from this, and before he could continue his train of thought, I quickly leaned in from my position on his lap to start kissing his neck, trailing wet hot kisses down the column before whispering. “I’m not her student.” 

He pulls away to look at me, biting his lip. “What?” 

“I was her student last semester. I’m her teaching assistant now.” I smirk a little, licking my lips. “Technically not a student of hers.” 

He seemed to take in my words for a moment, and then something in him shifted, and he lunged at me again, kissing me with even more ferocity. He absolutely devoured me, his hands everywhere at this point. Caressing my sides, in my hair, on the small of my back. He brought me closer to him in any way he could, pressing our bodies against each other in a frenzied manner that caused the wetness between my legs to increase tenfold. 

“Wanted you.. as soon as I saw you.” He murmurs against my lips as we caught our breath in between kisses. “Knew it was wrong but..” 

I nodded. I understood. I was the same. 

“Fuck.” I moaned, as I felt the bulge resting below me get even harder. “Spencer, please. Don’t make me wait.” 

“Impatient.” He remarked, smirking, now beginning his own line of kisses down my neck, making me moan in pleasure. 

“Please.” I breathed out, my words being reduced to a squeak as he bit my neck gently, and my eyes fluttered shut. I was melting right in his damn hands, just like he wanted. 

His hands started to work at the buttons on my jeans, and I sighed in relief, lifting up my hips to allow them to be tugged off, leaving me in my underwear. His slender fingers traced the seam, leaving me shuddering with pleasure for the man in front of me. I tried once more, breathlessly murmuring at him.

“Please. Please.” 

“Use your words, baby.” He whispered, a devilish smirk on his face. I was too far-gone to care about what I looked like. I needed him so badly. 

“I need you to fuck me, now.” I say, clearer. “I need it, Spencer.” 

Something about me using his name, nearly moaning for the man when he’d barely touched me stirred something in him, and he started to undo his own slacks, freeing his cock from the confines of his briefs. I watched in fascination as it sprung out, and took in a sharp breath of air. I licked my lips before making eye contact with him, begging for us to get on with it at this point. He nodded, understanding my desperation and I smiled dumbly, beginning to lift my hips. He guided his cock to my heat and placed his free hand on the small of my back, slowly guiding me down his member.

I moaned softly as I felt him enter me, providing me with the most delicious stretch. I threw my head back in pleasure as he brought both his hands to my hips urging me down. 

“That’s it. God, fuck. You feel so good.” He moaned, which only made me want to take more of him. I lowered myself down a bit faster, and he released a heavy groan as his hips met mine. I whimpered slightly, his length filling me up perfectly. A thin sheen of sweat had gathered on my brow and I leaned my forehead, adjusting to his size. 

“You good?” He breathed out, using his hand to brush a piece of hair that had stuck itself on my brow, and I nodded. 

“Yeah, just.” I took a deep breath, before licking my lips, looking up before nodding.

I slowly lifted myself off, letting the head of his arousal nestle in me before I slammed back down, eliciting moans from both of us. He began to match my movements in tandem, thrusting up into me wildly. I held onto his shoulders, burying myself in his neck as we went faster. I could feel his tip hitting my cervix every time, causing me to cry out with pleasure every single time. 

I felt my orgasm rapidly approach, and Spencer seemed to sense this as well, considering the involuntary clenches I was giving around his cock. He let his hand slip down to where our bodies met and rubbed tight, fast circles around my clit, encouraging my release. 

“Come on, pretty girl. Come all over my cock. You can do it.” He breathed out, watching my every move with a hunger I'd never experienced before.  

It took a few more thrusts from him, combined with the insistent fingers at my bundle of nerves before my thighs began shaking, and I let out a chorus of moans, most of them sounding like strangled versions of his name as I coated his cock in my wetness, spurring him on to go faster inside me, bucking into me like a man possessed. 

He continued to jut into me wildly, until I felt him finish inside me, coating my walls with his release. He breathed shakily, holding me close to him as I slumped over his shoulder, my chest heaving up and down as I came down from the intensity of the previous moment. 

He affectionately removed me from his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, the tenderness and gentleness in his actions contrary to what we had just done. I pulled back with a dazed smile, taking in how pretty he looked. 

“If it’s alright, I’d love to take you out for coffee sometime.” He said, still a bit breathless, and a shy smile appeared on his face.

I giggled. He was literally still inside me, and was asking me out on a date with a boyish nervousness that made him even harder to resist. 

“For you Dr Reid? Anything.” 

ahh! writing this was a beast, and i imagined it to be longer but i got what i wanted in less words haha. i hope you guys liked this. any reblogs, comments, likes are so so appreciated i know it sounds totally stupid, but your guys' support means a lot lot lot!! thank you!!! <3

[help-itrappedmyself]

Danny Punches a Clown Part 6

Masterpost

Danny, after many promises and assurances, lets Red Robin take him to the batcave. They travel by car, and as fancy as it was, Danny was almost scared to touch anything inside it. Red was a much better driver than his father though, so he just closed his eyes and focused on trying to keep his healing up.

The Batcave turned out to be an actual cave, underground, with actual bats in it. He was whisked to a medical area too quickly to see much of anything else besides some other vehicles and a giant computer set up. 

Someone was waiting in the medical space with a tray of tools and bandages ready next to the bed, Red introduced him as Agent A. They were quick to lie him down on a cot and set him up to a heart monitor and that had Red and the A frowning immediately.

“It’s a medical condition.” Danny blurted, and both pairs of eyes shot to him. “My heartrate is naturally very slow, temperature runs cold, pale skin, slow circulation so I can't have a lot of different medications." Not that any medications would really work, but better safe than sorry. Them not working would be suspicious, and Danny does not have the energy or focus for trying to keep straight any real explanations right now.  "It’s fine, I promise.”

Agent A nodded slowly. “Is there anything else we should know before we start treatment?”

“Just can't give me any medicines, I think that's the only relevant bit.”

“Alright, I will keep that in mind. Please lift your shirt so I can see the wound.”

Danny does, and they manage their expressions quite well on seeing it. Agent A goes immediately for creams and bandages.

“What burned you like that?” Red asked.

“Gun.” Danny was starting to slur. He did not want to sleep right now, with these people here.

“A gun? What kind of gun causes burns?”

“New blaster, parents made it special.”

“Your parents make guns?”

Danny shrugs, turning his head to look at Red instead of the far off ceiling of the cave. “My parents make lots of things. They're scientists, inventors." Danny waves his arm around vaguely. "The gun was new though, hadn’t been shot with that one before. The earlier versions were much less powerful.”

“Are you saying that your parents are the ones that shot you?” Red asked gently, taking a seat in the chair next to the bed. “It wasn’t just their gun that was used?”

Danny frowns. “Well yeah.”

Tim is very concerned at the tone he just used, like getting shot at by your parents was normal. “Do they shoot at you a lot?”

“Fair amount I suppose.” Red could see Danny thinking really hard about something. Dany’s head was really starting to hurt. His brain was fuzzy and he knew he should be concerned about something, but couldn’t figure out what. His parents shooting at him was nothing new, considering. “Like, they did it more than Vlad but I don’t see him as often, and they’ve done it longer than the GIW, but since the GIW has started they’ve been about equal I guess. I mean, sometimes all the defense systems in the house target me but that wasn’t technically intentional. Took forever for us to figure out how to get them to stop that.”

“Danny, when was the last time you slept?” Red asked gently.

Danny wasn’t sure if his blip earlier this morning counted. He didn’t think it lasted more than an hour, but the last time he slept before that was before his fight in Amity, escaping through the ghost zone and running around in this dimension.

“It’s been awhile.” Danny landed on. True enough for medical history he supposed.

“Right.” A finished the last of the bandages and tugged Danny’s shirt back down. “Well, why don’t you do that now, while we go and find you something to eat.”

“I’m too tired to fight food right now.”

Tim shared a look with Alfred before turning back to Danny. “Okay then. Maybe sleep first and then eat?”

“I will go start making something now that you’re all set up here Mister Danny.” Agent A states, walking past the medical curtains and shutting them behind him. Red pulled out a tablet and started tapping on it. He noticed Danny’s eyes on him after a moment.

“You going to sleep?”

“Strange place, strange people. Not sure that’s the best decision here.”

Red looked up from his tablet.

“You trusted me enough to come here. Trust me enough to sleep. I will make sure no one but me or A comes in before you’re ready.”

[genshinluvr]

The Traveling Artist's Ailment

Pairings: Zhongli x fem!reader x Neuvillette

Summary: As a renowned traveling artist from Mondstadt, you travel the world to paint and draw various things. Your lovers, Zhongli and Neuvillette, are supportive of your dreams of becoming a traveling artist. However, during one of your work trips to Sumeru, you stumble across a sickly floating anemo fungus (well, technically, it came to you). You nursed the floating anemo fungus back to health, only to fall ill yourself.

Note: One of my followers and close friends commissioned this fanfic! To read her commissioned version, I will link it at the very end of this fanfic. This is the longest fanfic I have typed out ever since I came out of my hiatus. I hope my friend likes her commission (she has read most of it so far but hasn't read the newer parts I have added). Anyway! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: None that I know of 🤔 However, since this is a commissioned fic, there will be some things that trace back to the commissioner— there will be she/her/hers pronouns used throughout this fic when referring to the reader.

Word Count: 6.8k

Sumeru, the nation ruled by the God of Wisdom. The scenery is beautiful— everywhere you look is a land of luscious greenery. You stand in front of the statue of the seven in the Avidya Forest, admiring the view before you. As a traveling artist, you have the privilege of witnessing the beautiful scenery of every nation in Teyvat. 

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

When you first began your career as a renowned traveling artist, you started in your home nation—the beautiful nation ruled by the Anemo Archon Barbatos. Before becoming a traveling artist, you weren’t satisfied with your career. And as cheesy as it sounds, you wanted to find your purpose, and the only thing that kept you going was your love for drawing and traveling. 

“You’re incredibly talented. Have you thought of becoming a traveling artist?” Albedo asked, analyzing the canvas while stroking his chin.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, mimicking Albedo’s actions. “I’ll have to be honest with you, Albedo. I have not! And even if I did, I don’t think a certain someone would approve of my ambitions.”

Albedo raised his eyebrows. “Oh? Are you implying that your boyfriends will not approve of your goals?”

Your face becomes hot at the mention of your, ahem, “boyfriends.” You wouldn’t say that you, Zhongli, and Neuvillette were dating per se, but you wouldn’t say that you three weren’t seeing each other romantically. You would often travel to Liyue and Fontaine to visit the men on separate occasions. Sometimes, when they had the chance, Zhongli and Neuvillette would visit Mondstadt to spend time with you. There were lingering touches and longing stares thrown around, but anything above that had yet to happen. Wait, what was Albedo saying again? Oh, right!

You cleared your throat, looking back at the canvas. “It’s not like they’ll disapprove of my choice of wanting to become a traveling artist. They worry, Albedo. And can you blame them?” You muttered, finishing up your painting of the Stormterror’s Lair. 

The day you sat down with Neuvillette and Zhongli to talk about your decision to become a traveling artist, you three were sitting outside Good Hunter in Mondstadt. You sat between the two men, eating your food. Children were laughing and running around the area while the adults were going on with their day, enjoying the simple life in Mondstadt.

“Dear, are you alright? You seem distracted,” Neuvillette said, breaking you out of your daydream.

You didn’t realize you were poking at your Sticky Honey Roast until Neuvillette brought you out of your thoughts. You nodded, giving Neuvillette a reassuring smile before proceeding to eat your lunch. While you weren’t looking, Neuvillette and Zhongli looked at one another, not saying a word. 

Zhongli cleared his throat, placing his hand over yours. “Are you sure you’re alright? If there’s anything you want to talk about with us, you’re always welcome to,” Zhongli murmured, gazing at you with his warm amber eyes.

You placed your fork on the plate and took a deep breath. “I am thinking of becoming a traveling artist. What do you two think?” You looked at Neuvillette and Zhongli anxiously, worried they were going to discourage you from pursuing such a career. 

Zhongli’s eyes lit up, the corners of his lips curving up. “Oh, I think that would be a lovely idea. I believe in doing things you love, and you are an incredibly talented artist.” Zhongli took a sip of his drink. I don’t see why not.”

After hearing Zhongli’s approval, your eyes lit up with excitement and hope. You turned to Neuvillette only to see the hesitation on his face. Neuvillette didn’t seem to agree with Zhongli. Neuvillette had always encouraged you to do what you love, but with this new career path, the Iudex was rather hesitant about the idea.

You blinked, reaching for Neuvillette’s hand, and gently squeezed it. “Neuvillette, are you alright?”

Neuvillette lets out a long exhale before meeting your gaze, smiling weakly. “[Y/N], dear, as much as I would love to see you pursue your dreams of becoming a traveling artist…” Neuvillette trails off, sighing again, “I can’t help but worry about your safety and the potential dangers of you getting into while you’re traveling alone.”

You couldn’t help but feel offended but also giddy over the fact that the oh-so-powerful Iudex of Fontaine worrying over little ole you. You couldn’t help but giggle, tucking your hair behind your ears while blushing madly. Neuvillette gazed at you, confused. You could hear Zhongli chuckling behind you while proceeding to finish his lunch.

You cleared your throat and placed both hands over Neuvillette’s. “Neuvi, I understand where you’re coming from, and,” you paused to squeal, reaching up to pinch his cheeks, “I would be much happier as a traveling artist than my current career path. Not only do I get to travel the world, but that means I can visit you and Zhongli more often!”

Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you getting the chance to visit Fontaine and Liyue more often and longer than in the past. Right as you were about to take a bite of the Sticky Honey Roast, a thin arm wrapped around your shoulders startled you and caused you to drop the metal fork. Zhongli and Neuvillette’s heads snapped in your direction to see the familiar bumbling drunkard draped over you. 

Zhongli scoffed, his nose wrinkled with disgust after catching a whiff of alcohol from the Anemo Archon. “Venti, please refrain from touching [Y/N] without her consent,” Zhongli said, narrowing his eyes at the bard.

Venti giggled and released you. “Hey, blockhead— I mean Zhongli and…” Venti froze when his eyes locked with Neuvillette. “O-Oh! It’s you!” Venti squeaked.

Neuvillette smiled at Venti before sipping water from his chalice and placing it on the table. “Greetings, Venti. I see that you are acquaintances with my beloved [Y/N].” 

Zhongli furrowed his eyebrows at Neuvillette’s comment and cleared his throat, “Our beloved [Y/N]. What am I? Chopped liver?” Zhongli rolled his eyes.

Neuvillette ignored Zhongli’s comment, proceeding to stare down the Anemo Archon. Venti cleared his throat before walking around the table to face the three of you. The bard propped his hands on his hips. You, Neuvillette, and Zhongli stared back at Venti, unsure what he had in mind. 

Venti sniffed dramatically, wiping away nonexistent tears with his index finger. “Oh, [Y/N]! Hearing your departure from Mondstadt breaks my heart. But hearing your love for the arts and wanting to share your exquisite talents with the world is inspiring!” Venti said dramatically, his lyre materializing in his hands, and he started to strum the instrument. “I would like to dedicate this song to you~!” Venti winked at you.

While Venti was serenading the three of you, Neuvillette mulled over the idea of you traveling the world and sharing your talent with people from every nation on Teyvat. 

Neuvillette turned to you, whispering into your ears, “If that is what you wish to pursue, then I shall not intervene with your desires. As long as you are safe and happy, that is all that matters to me.”

Your eyes lit up once again. “Really!?” You squeaked, gazing at Neuvillette with stars in your eyes.

Neuvillette’s cheeks slowly turned pink the longer you stared at him with awe and happiness. The Iudex cleared his throat, nodding. You squealed and threw yourself at your beloved Neuvillette, arms wrapped around his shoulders while pressing your cheek against his. Zhongli chuckled, shaking his head as he continued to listen to Venti sing, admiring you and Neuvillette from his seat.

You turned to Zhongli and beckoned him over. Zhongli hesitated for a moment, only to give in when you gave him puppy-dog eyes. Who could say no to that sweet face of yours? Zhongli stood from his seat and walked over to where you and Neuvillette were sitting before leaning over to wrap his arms around you and Neuvillette. Zhongli made sure to kiss the side of your head, ignoring the stares shot in your direction.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

“Sumeru is so beautiful,” You whisper, setting down your art supplies. You have been traveling for a few months now, and you’re loving every bit of it! You met so many nice people, and many people have commissioned you to paint certain landscapes from other regions! Your being in Sumeru is for your customer’s commission, and you cannot wait for them to receive the painting soon.

Usually, you would travel to your customer to personally deliver their commission. However, this time is different because your customer will be picking up their commission in Sumeru. After all, according to them, they will be on a work trip to Sumeru in a few weeks. When it comes to your paintings, it doesn’t take you long to complete them. You work quite fast on your paintings, and that is what your customers love about working with you— you get things done in a timely manner, or you complete the commission way before the deadline. 

You scan your surroundings, trying to find the perfect image to capture onto your canvas. The customer was quite vague with what they wanted you to paint. The only instruction that was given to you was to paint a scenery in Sumeru. Did you ask them to clarify for you? Yes, you did! However, this person didn’t have an idea in mind.

“You have free range, Miss Renowned Artist! I would like for it to be a surprise! Any scenery will do as long as it’s in Sumeru!” The customer said, smiling smugly as if they were doing you a huge favor. 

You exhale and scratch your head. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” You mutter.

Sumeru has a lot to offer, and it is hard for an artist like yourself to capture a specific landscape onto one canvas. You see, you want to capture the current landscape before you, but at the same time, you also want to capture the breathtaking deserts of Sumeru. You pull out a single Mora from your bag, choosing to do heads or tails to make the decision for you. Easy, right? You’re indecisive, so the Mora will pick what you paint for your customer! Before flipping the Mora, you make sure to mark one side of the Mora with white paint because both sides have the same engraving.

The side with white paint will be the desert (heads), while the side without paint will be the current luscious green landscape before you (tails).

You place the Mora between your thumb and index finger with the side with white paint facing upward. Using your thumb, you flick the Mora in the air before catching it and placing it on the back of your other hand without revealing the results. When you move your hand, you see the decision the Mora has made.

The side of the Mora facing upward isn’t marked with white paint; therefore, you will be painting the luscious green landscape! You wipe the white paint off the other side of the Mora before tossing it back into your bag. You pull out the canvas and place it on the easel before digging into your bag for your palette, paints, and brushes. 

Once you have set up your materials, you start sketching out the landscape with a pencil. You hum softly, engrossed in your work, as you listen to the birds sing around you. It’s relatively cloudy today in Sumeru; it’s not too hot or too cold, and the weather is just right. You peek from your canvas to double-check to make sure everything is in the correct spot, and nothing is missing.

After an hour passes by, your sketch of the landscape is completed, and you can now start painting the beautiful scenery after your lunch break. In the medium-sized container, you pack rice with Honey Char Siu on top, and in the smaller container, it contains seven rainbow macarons. 

Every time when you go on your trip, you make sure to pack food that reminds you of your beloveds on the first day of your arrival to a new nation. From then on, you will eat food from the nation you’re currently visiting. There’s no easy way to contact Zhongli and Neuvillette while you’re traveling the world, so the only way for you to feel connected to the two men is through food that you pack for yourself! 

Being a traveling artist does get lonely from time to time. You have no one to talk to aside from locals in that region, but it’s nice to have some alone time. You enjoy the peace and quiet, but you love being able to interact with those around you. Your wanderlust drives you insane. What can you do about it? You choose to become a traveling artist to be able to do what you love: traveling and showing the world your amazing art skills. 

“Your gift needs to be shared with the world, [Y/N]. I’m baffled that you’re not a renowned artist yet. If you want a head start in your career, you can always let me know, and I will gladly help you make your dreams come true.” Zhongli’s words echo in your head as you happily munch on your lunch. 

You couldn’t help but tear up at the thought of how incredibly supportive both Zhongli and Neuvillette are. Growing up, you didn’t have much of a support system in your life, but as you grew older, you ended up meeting amazing people who loved and supported you. You’re grateful for everyone in your life, and you will make them proud as you continue to work hard as a traveling artist. 

After finishing your lunch, you immediately start on your customer’s commission. You mix a few paints to create a specific color for the sky as the sun is peeking from the cloudy skies. Each brush stroke brings the canvas to life, almost as if you used a Kamera instead of paints to create the masterpiece before you. 

Just as you’re a little over halfway done with the painting, you hear something strange coming from behind you. You freeze in your spot, hoping that it’s not a vicious creature behind you, planning on making you its dinner. You slowly turn your head to see something you weren’t expecting. The small creature looks sickly, struggling to stay afloat, only to tumble to the ground. You can’t help but pity the poor thing.

You continue to watch the floating (well, not anymore) anemo fungus waddle and stumble in your direction. Judging by its appearance, it’s most likely ill. You place your paintbrush and palette on the ground before cautiously walking towards the sickly floating anemo fungus. You kneel and hold your hands out, catching the anemo fungus before it can fall on its face. 

You cradle it in your arms and wince when it lets out a small sneeze. Well, small is an understatement. When the anemo fungus sneezed, it let out a strong gust of wind, causing the items around you to rattle in their spot. You chuckle and take your apron off, laying it on the rock nearby.

The floating anemo fungus shivers in your arms, sniffling here and there, and its eyes are glazed over. You’re unsure whether there is a doctor that specializes in caring for mystical beasts such as this anemo fungus. You glance at your unfinished painting, unsure whether you should temporarily abandon your painting to care for the sick floating anemo fungus or proceed as usual before caring for the creature. 

“Hold on, little guy. Let me finish this painting, and then I’ll get you some help,” you coo to the floating anemo fungus.

You walk to where your apron lies and place the floating anemo fungus on the rock before draping it with your jacket. It won’t do much, but it will provide some warmth for the poor creature. You pick up your paintbrush and palette, continuing where you left off with the customer’s commission. 

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A few days into your trip to Sumeru as a traveling artist, you end up renting out a quaint home in Gandharva Ville close to your painting site. Initially, you did plan on staying in Sumeru City during your stay, but due to some unforeseeable circumstances, you decided to remain in Gandharva Ville for the remainder of your trip.

Your customer’s commission is about ninety-eight percent completed, and since you’re almost done with the painting, you decide to take a few days off to nurse the floating anemo fungus back to health.

Needless to say, caring for a sick fungus is more complicated than you expected it to be. You’re never sure what to feed the fungus, aside from giving it plenty of water to drink. Are Liyuen dishes too spicy? Would Fontainian food be too bland for it? What about Sumeru dishes? There are many times when you question your sanity because you don’t have someone to consult about this issue. You were on your own.

Did you consult specialists or scientists about this issue? No, you did not because they would not take you seriously because why would you care about a creature that wreaks havoc on civilization if it gets the chance?

After the fifth day of being in Sumeru (and nursing the poor floating anemo fungus back to health), you wake up feeling horrendous. Your head is pounding, one nostril is stuffed while the other is runny, your entire body feels incredibly hot, and your throat feels swollen. Dear Barbatos, is it possible that the floating anemo fungus passed its sickness onto you? Despite feeling like a mitachurl has whacked you with its wooden shield, you continue to push on and finish the commission. After all, you do have to meet with your customer in Sumeru City in a few hours.

Standing at the site, you put the finishing touches on the painting while trying to act like you’re fine and healthy. The floating anemo fungus hangs out beside you, happily floating while looking as healthy as ever. 

“And we’re done!” You sigh in relief, clearing your throat and putting your paintbrush on the palette. 

You take a step back and admire your now-completed artwork. The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy and twirls around. You gently pet the creature, watching it nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Just when you assumed you were going to spend time in Sumeru alone, a (formerly) sickly little fungus ended up keeping you company.

You smile and pet the floating anemo fungus, “Thank you for keeping me company, little guy.”

The floating anemo fungus squeaks with joy, nuzzling its face against yours as if it’s thanking you for nursing it back to health. As much as you’re hesitant to release the floating anemo fungus back into the wild, you have no other choice but to do so. You watch the floating anemo fungus slowly disappear off into the wild, your heart feeling heavy after realizing that you’re now alone.

You muster up the strength and start packing your things to return to the house you rented. At least you finally completed the commission and can relax in Sumeru before going to your next destination. However, you’re not sure when you can set off on your next journey due to your sickness.

After dropping your items off at your temporary home, you set off to Sumeru City to meet with your customer. The city is bustling, and the smell of delicious Sumeru dishes wafts in the air, making your stomach rumble with hunger. 

A voice brings you out of your thoughts, “Ah! Miss Renowned Artist!” 

You turn to see your customer waltzing towards you with guests behind them— their business partners, you presume? The customer’s eyes light up with excitement upon laying their eyes on the large canvas in your hands. 

“You have completed my commission, I see!” The customer states, standing before you with an expectant gaze. 

You smile, nodding. “Yes! I have completed your commission! Please let me know your thoughts on it!” You say, turning the canvas around for the customer to see. 

The customer, their business partners, and citizens of Sumeru passing by gasped in awe. The painting looked beautiful and breathtaking—not only breathtaking but very vivid. People around you started whispering and pointing at the painting. Some even pulled their Cameras out to snap a picture of you and the painting.

The customer places their right hand over their heart while covering their mouth with the other, “Miss [Y/N], this art piece is absolutely beautiful! You really outdone yourself!” The customer praises, eyes gleaming with joy. “Is it too soon to commission you again?” The customer giggles.

The people around you two chuckle as they continue to admire the painting in the customer’s hand. After a few minutes of admiring the painting, the customer pays you a handsome amount of Mora before walking off with their business partners. You place the bag of Mora in your travel-sized bag before walking to the nearest bench in Sumeru City, sighing. Archons above, you feel so exhausted, and you have a long way back to your rented house on the outskirts of the city. You don’t know how much longer you can handle this. 

“[Y/N]! Is that you!?” A high-pitched voice pulls you out of your inner turmoil.

You look up to see Aether and Paimon approach you. The white-haired floating girl waves her hands at you ecstatically while barreling in your direction. Before she can smack you in the face with her entire body, Aether quickly grabs her by her clothes and holds her back— Paimon squirms in Aether’s hands, huffing and protesting.

Aether shakes his head, smiling at you apologetically. “Sorry, [Y/N]. Paimon’s just excited to see you again after not seeing you in months.”

You smile at Aether and Paimon, standing up from the bench while dusting your clothes off. “There’s no need to apologize, Aether! I’m happy to see you both again!” You say, ignoring the shivers going down your spine.

Aether releases Paimon, and she immediately hugs your face, resting her cheek on your head while petting your hair happily. “It’s good to see you again, [Y/N]! How’s the life of being a traveling artist?”

You laugh and pat the top of her head, watching Aether pull Paimon off you with another apologetic smile. “It’s great! I get to do what I love: travel the world, paint, and draw. I get to visit Liyue and Fontaine much longer compared to when I was still working at my previous job.”

You start to recount your traveling experiences as a traveling artist to Aether and Paimon. You tell them about your commissions, answer their questions regarding your career as a traveling artist, and more. While the three of you are catching up, a huge wave of dizziness hits you like a mitachurl. You clutch your head and close your eyes, your body breaking into cold sweat as you shiver under the warm sunlight. Aether places his hand on your shoulders, steadying you. 

Paimon hovers in front of you, looking at you worriedly. “Are you okay, [Y/N]? Paimon’s worried about you.”

You crack your eyes open and smile at her. “I’m not feeling well, actually,” you reply. You tell Aether and Paimon the gist of what caused you to fall ill ever since you step foot into Sumeru: a sickly floating anemo fungus coming to you for help, you putting your customer’s commission to the side to nurse the fungus back to health, and here you are. Sick. The sickness isn’t anything deadly (you hope), but you’re in desperate need of rest, or else you will collapse, and the trip to Sumeru will last longer than you planned. 

Paimon tugs on your shirt, ushering you to stand up. “We gotta take you back to your rented house! You need to rest!”

Aether wraps his arms around your waist and has you wrap your arm around his shoulders as he walks you out of Sumeru City. Your legs feel like jelly, making it nearly impossible for you to take more than twenty steps. Aether ends up giving you a piggyback ride back to the house you rented in Gandharva Ville, with Paimon occasionally making sure you’re still alive and breathing.

One minute, you’re on Aether’s back, being carried back to your rental house; the next, you find yourself lying on the bed with Paimon and Aether’s face hovering over yours. The two stare down at you worriedly, wondering what’s the next step.

Paimon snaps her fingers when an idea pops into her head. “We should contact Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette to inform them of their lover’s ailment!”

Before Aether can do that, you sit up and quickly grab Aether’s wrist, startling both outlanders. You shake your head, looking at them pleadingly. Neuvillette and Zhongli cannot see you like this! Sure, you never hide things from the two people you hold near and dear to your heart, but you don’t want them to worry about you! Besides, it’s not like you’re dying! What you have is most likely a minor cold and should pass within a few days. Right?

Aether lets out a shaky sigh, gently pushing you back to lie on the bed. “Okay, okay! I won’t tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about your sickness.”

You sigh in relief, feeling the tension leaving your body after hearing Aether’s promise not to tell Neuvillette and Zhongli about your situation. Despite never hiding anything from the two men you care deeply about, this is the only time you will hide something from them. Not because you don’t trust them but because you don’t want them to see this as an opportunity to pull you away from this career path. While they may not do that, you’re worried they’re going to try to coax you out of this career. Aether and Paimon exit the room after tucking you into bed; they close the door and trade looks.

“We are going to tell Mister Zhongli and Monsieur Neuvillette about this, right? We can’t hide this from them!” Paimon loudly whispers.

Aether runs his hands through his hair, shrugging. “I guess we’ll try to nurse [Y/N] back to health ourselves and see from there. If they don’t improve within two days, we’ll have to inform both of them about [Y/N]’s situation.”

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

A day has passed, and there aren’t any signs that you are getting better. In fact, it seems like you have gotten worse than the day before. Your temperature is worse than before; you’re barely eating, barely awake, and sweating through your clothes, but your hands feel ice cold. Paimon flies to your bed and switches out the wet rag on your forehead with another cold, damp towel. You shudder in your sleep, sighing with contentment when the cool rag touches your scorching hot forehead.

“How is she doing?” Aether asks, peeking into the room.

Paimon shakes her head, her shoulders slumping. “If her illness persists, we’re going to have to take her to see a doctor.”

Thunder cracks outside, startling both Aether and Paimon. Aether peeks from behind the curtains to see rain pouring down outside. If it rained any harder, Sumeru might as well be underwater. Great. Even if Aether were to take you to the doctor, there’s no way he would be able to get you there without you getting soaked.

The rain will worsen your illness, and who knows what will happen? The thunder cracking in the distance and the pouring rain are loud enough to drown out Aether and Paimon’s racing thoughts, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sound of panicked knocks at the front door of the rental house. 

Aether and Paimon freeze, looking over in your direction. You barely react to the sounds around you— too exhausted and ill to have the energy to react. Paimon nudges Aether towards the door, gesturing to Aether to check to see who’s at the door knocking like a madman. Aether puts on a brave face and marches toward the front door. 

The knocking persists, and there seems to be another person assisting the person who knocked the first time. Great, more than one person to deal with! It’s not the person who rented the house out to you, is it? Archons, Aether sure hope it isn’t. Aether grabs the door handle and swings the door open to face the guests head-on. 

Aether clears his throat, “Can I help you— Oh, Archons.” Aether feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach.

“Where is she?” Neuvillette demands, glaring down at Aether as raindrops pelt him.

Zhongli doesn’t look too pleased either, soaked to the bone. Aether gulps and takes a step back to let Zhongli and Neuvillette enter the rental house. How the hell did Neuvillette and Zhongli find this place? He and Paimon certainly didn’t inform the two refined men of your situation, so why are they here? 

Aether closes the door after Zhongli and Neuvillette step into the house. Aether clears his throat, watching the two men wring their clothes, creating a puddle beneath their feet. Aside from the cracking thunder and raindrops viciously pitter-patter on the roof, all Aether can hear is his heart drumming in his ears. 

“Aether? Who’s at the door?” Paimon calls out.

Aether, Neuvillette, and Zhongli turn to where Paimon’s voice comes from, only to see the white-haired girl floating out of a bedroom. Paimon shrieks upon laying her eyes on two draconic men standing at the entrance of the wooden house. 

Zhongli sighs, brushing his wet bangs from his forehead and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s a pleasure to see you two again under this unpleasant circumstance,” Zhongli says, giving Aether and Paimon a fake smile.

Paimon floats over to where the three men are standing and scratches the back of her head. Paimon doesn’t remember informing anyone of your situation, nor does she remember if Aether informed the two intimidating men anything regarding your ailment. The floating girl looks at Aether, only to see him shrug his shoulders in response to her questioning stare.

Neuvillette’s eyes scan the quaint house and clear his throat. “Apologies for showing up unannounced and uninvited. However, Deus Auri and I had a bad feeling, and we had to show up,” Neuvillette said, adjusting his cravat.

“That doesn’t explain how you two are able to find the house [Y/N] rented out in Gandharva Ville,” Aether states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Zhongli and Neuvillette stare at Aether, not saying a word. The silence in the house is nearly unsettling but not as unsettling as the thunder continuously getting louder. Aether and Paimon are well aware that any form of precipitation ties to the Iudex’s emotions. The traveling duo isn’t sure if they should lead the two draconic men to where you’re sleeping or try to lie to the men that they got the wrong house and that you left for Natlan yesterday.

The deafening silence is broken by the sound of glass shattering in the next room. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment before running towards where the sound comes from. Neuvillette pushes the door open to see a glass pitcher in shards, and beside the pile of glass shards is you, lying on the ground, unconscious. Paimon shrieks, flying towards your unconscious body; she kneels beside your head and gently shakes you. 

Aether loudly whispers, “Paimon, let them get through.”

Paimon’s bottom lip quivers as she backs away from your unconscious body, watching Neuvillette and Zhongli kneel over you. Aether and Paimon quietly leave the room, knowing their presence will not be needed as of now. Neuvillette pulls you into his arms and cradles you, caressing your head while watching Zhongli clean the mess.

You let out a weak cough, body shivering when the cool air of the house fans your skin. Your skin is hot enough for Neuvillette to feel it through his coat. The storm outside worsens as he carries you to the bed, tucking you in. Zhongli pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering what to do next. 

Neuvillette continues to stare at you, assessing you from head to toe. “You briefly mentioned Doctor Baizhu while we were on our way to this rental house. Is there a way for you to get in contact with Doctor Baizhu regarding [Y/N]’s situation?”

Zhongli nods, now standing beside the Iudex. “Doctor Baizhu is enroute. He should be here very soon.”

Zhongli removes his gloves and places his hand over your forehead, letting out a long exhale. He slowly removes his hands from your forehead and glances at the discarded rag on the wooden nightstand. Zhongli excuses himself and leaves your and Neuvillette’s side for a moment before returning with a cool, wet rag. Zhongli brushes your hair to the side and places the rag on your forehead. The two men can see you visibly relax and sigh with contentment.

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli after the Liyuen man places his hand on Neuvillette’s shoulders. “[Y/N] is a strong woman. She’ll be okay. If [Y/N] can scare a mitachurl away, she can fight this illness.” Zhongli winces internally. Perhaps that’s not the best pep talk, but he’s trying his best to quell Neuvillette’s worries.

Neuvillette places his hand over Zhongli’s hand, giving them a gentle squeeze. “[Y/N] is something else. I just hope this illness passes by without causing any damage,” Neuvillette murmurs.

About an hour later, Doctor Baizhu arrives with his little helper, Qiqi. Neuvillette and Zhongli stand to the side to let the green-haired doctor treat you. Doctor Baizhu rouses you from your sleep for a check-up and medication. Qiqi sits beside you, letting you lean against her as the green-haired Doctor checks your vitals.

After your checkup, Doctor Baizhu hands Zhongli a bottle of medication. “Make sure [Y/N] takes her medications every six hours. Do not let her take it on an empty stomach, as it may cause nausea. I do not recommend traveling while in such conditions; she can start traveling within a week as long as her illness subsides.”

Neuvillette raises his hand. “If you don’t mind me asking, Doctor Baizhu, do you know when [Y/N] will regain consciousness?”

Doctor Baizhu pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and strokes his chin. “That, I do not know. I want you to remember, Mister Neuvillette, that [Y/N]’s symptoms are quite severe. She needs all of the rest she can get.”

If Neuvillette had ears, they would be drooping. Zhongli squeezes Neuvillette’s hands, giving him a reassuring smile. Qiqi waddles up to the two men, handing them a piece of paper. Zhongli blinks and unfolds the paper to see a list of items you’re allowed and not allowed to eat. 

Qiqi returns to your side and gently pats your head, saying, “Get well soon, [Y/N].”

Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi bid the two men farewell before exiting the rental house. Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi stop in their tracks. The green-haired Doctor chuckles and looks at Zhongli and Neuvillette, who look at them quizzically. 

“It looks like [Y/N] has a visitor,” Doctor Baizhu gestures to the floating anemo fungus.

The floating anemo fungus nervously floats towards Zhongli and Neuvillette, drenched in the rain. Zhongli and Neuvillette can’t tell whether the floating anemo fungus is shivering due to being soaked or because they intimidate the creature. 

After bidding Doctor Baizhu and Qiqi goodbye, Neuvillette and Zhongli close the front door. The shivering floating anemo fungus squeaks, looking at Zhongli and Neuvillette. Zhongli and Neuvillette return to your room with the floating anemo fungus close behind. When they open the door, the floating anemo fungus makes its way to your bed. 

It squeaks, gently nudging at your face. Zhongli steps forward, ready to snatch the floating anemo fungus away from you to prevent it from disturbing your very much-needed sleep, but Neuvillette stops Zhongli. The (now dry) floating anemo fungus makes its way under the blanket to snuggle up against you, providing comfort. Just when Zhongli and Neuvillette assume they’re going to be the ones to snuggle you as you sleep, a floating anemo fungus decides to take their spot instead.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ ᨐฅ ๋࣭ ⭑⚝

The very next day, you wake up to be sandwiched between Zhongli and Neuvillette with the floating anemo fungus you nursed back to health lying on your chest. While you’re still sick, you are feeling much better compared to the day before. However, that doesn’t stop Zhongli and Neuvillette from being your temporary caretakers.

“Dearest, you must drink this ginger tea. It’ll soothe your sore throat,” Zhongli says, placing the cup of hot ginger tea in front of you.

You scrunch your face, hesitant to drink the tea Zhongli brewed for you. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Zhongli brewing tea for your sore throat! It’s the taste that you can’t handle! You have tried ginger tea in the past (yes, also brewed by Zhongli), and it ended up not being your cup of tea. 

“I don’t like the taste…” You mumble, hugging the floating anemo fungus to your chest.

Neuvillette sighs, sitting at the edge of the bed. “Would you like to drink warm water instead?”

Your eyes light up, immediately agreeing to drink warm water over ginger tea. Zhongli sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. You give Zhongli a sympathetic look and then at Neuvillette, who tucks your hair behind your ears. 

“I’ll drink both the warm water and ginger tea if it’ll make you two feel better,” you suggest.

Neuvillette shakes his head, “No, no. If you prefer to drink warm water to soothe your sore throat, then that is what you will be drinking. Do not force yourself to drink something you can’t stomach.”

Zhongli sighs in defeat. “Alright, if that is what you wish, I will make Bamboo Shoot Soup for you to eat.”

Neuvillette looks at Zhongli, confused. Before Zhongli can leave the room, Neuvillette gets up from the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. Zhongli raises his eyebrows at Neuvillette, who approaches him. You and the floating anemo fungus awkwardly sit there, watching Neuvillete and Zhongli have a stare-down. They’re not going to start arguing with each other, are they? You’re not in the mood to deal with any quarrels.

“I was going to make Consomme Purete for her to eat,” Neuvillette mutters to Zhongli.

Zhongli raises an eyebrow at the Chief Justice of Fontaine. “Oh? She’s going to be drinking warm water, as you have suggested. [Y/N] loves my signature dish, and I believe the soup will fill her stomach and give her plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette frowns. “Are you implying my Consomme Purete lacks nutrients and won’t fill her stomach?” Neuvillette props his hands on his hips.

Oh, dear Archons. 

“Neuvillette, that is not what I’m implying.”

“Oh, really? Then what are you implying then?”

Zhongli hands the paper over to Neuvillette. “I’m following Doctor Baizhu and Miss Qiqi’s orders. Miss Qiqi specifically said to feed [Y/N] food with plenty of nutrients.”

Neuvillette takes the paper but doesn’t read it. “You are still implying that my Consomme Purete doesn’t contain enough nutrients for her to eat.”

“Dear Archons.” Zhongli sighs, rubbing his temples.

You cough to grab their attention, only to cough up phlegm, nearly choking on it. Neuvillette and Zhongli are by your side almost immediately, making sure you’re okay and not choking on the phlegm. 

You slump in your spot and hug the floating anemo fungus to your chest, sighing. “I will eat both the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete. I haven’t been eating well, and I believe both of your dishes will not only fill up my appetite but also provide me with copious amounts of nutrients.”

Thankfully, that is something both Zhongli and Neuvillette end up agreeing on. You managed to finish the Bamboo Shoot Soup and Consomme Purete, making both your lovers proud and relieved. Zhongli makes sure you take your medication, and Neuvillette provides more warm water to drink with your medication. Your stomach didn’t churn when you took the medication, thankfully. 

By the time it’s nightfall, both Zhongli and Neuvillette are in their dragon forms, taking up all the space on the bed. Zhongli and Neuvillette are curled into a half circle with you between them. You close your eyes and rest your head on Zhongli’s body, feeling Zhongli and Neuvillette curling and wrapping around you. 

As you slowly doze off, you hug the floating anemo fungus tightly while Zhongli and Neuvillette each take turns pressing their nose against your head— kissing your head but in their dragon forms.

“Thank you three for being here.” You whisper, shivering.

Neuvillette flicks his tail, draping the blanket over your and their bodies before resting his head beside Zhongli. Zhongli and Neuvillette close their eyes, drifting off to the sound of your quiet snores.

Note: I had this commission delayed due to being busy with my university and other things happening in my life. I actually like how this fic turned out! While I was on hiatus, I had this mental drawing board for this commission and have changed a lot of things in this fic. I'm happy with the outcome of the fic itself. Tama/Kacie, if you see this, I hope you love this fic as much as I loved typing it out :) Anyway, To all my new and returning readers, keep in mind that I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

Link to the commissioned version: The Traveling Artist's Ailment (Commissioned Ver.)

Read more of my works on my Masterlist / Masterlist 2 / Short Fics and Others Masterlist | Maybe support me by tipping me on Ko-Fi or by reblogging my fanfics! ^^ I will also be posting exclusive fanfics on Ko-Fi as well very soon! I might post all of my stories on there too, but who knows. You can also tip me on Tumblr if you'd like as a way to show support! ^^