#i need to let it sit for a bit and the pacing is probably a bit off because i never get the pacing right when i spend all day writing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kooyabooya · 3 months ago

Text

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?”

#le sserafim smut #kpop smut #male reader #yunjin smut #huh yunjin #kpop fanfic #le sserafim yunjin

1K notes · View notes

suguann · 4 months ago

Text

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside.

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in.

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink.

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake.

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day.

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp.

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago.

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth.

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t.

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies.

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand.

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both.

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer.

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all.

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put.

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments.

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on.

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach.

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play.

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water.

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times.

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here.

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

#.things i write #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod smut #cod fic #cod x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost smut #mw2 x reader #mw2 smut #cod

2K notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 4 months ago

Text

night sucker, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: You and your hot-sexy-maybe-an-idiot-but-definitely-horny-and-always-perfect boyfriend Jeon Jungkook had mutually agreed not to fuck in the middle of the night. And... Well. You're still gonna fuck in the middle of the night. What?! It just happened! He slipped and his dick fell in your mouth! (It's the weekend, it's okay! :D)

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; playful banter and shitty jokes; you were asleep (not really) until his dick fell in your mouth (nice!); crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m and f-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, face sitting); squabbling tbh; non-idol!BTS - short black-haired!JK with his two lip rings; the parenthesis are the reader’s inner thoughts

crackhead best laid plans / counter point / well dressed / cursed hours couple no need to read the others, but they’re there if you want more

You woke up to your boyfriend’s hard dick sliding into your open lips.

Fuck yeah!

(Do we sense a kink developing? Mayhap.)

Most people would be a little surprised, annoyed perhaps, but thankfully you were pretty used to the unhinged horny behavior of Jeon Jungkook (encouraging it, even, oop). You weren’t completely in the dark (well, you were – er, never mind) about it, because you had felt the very suspicious bowing of the bed by your right shoulder, plus you could smell him (mmmm, that vanilla almond body wash still lingered), and you had sucked his cock many, many, many times before. Oh. Right. Should have led with that.

Point was, your mouth was well acquainted with his dick.

(You’d have matching friendship rings but Jungkook would complain too much, keke.)

Delicately, you turned your head a bit and molded your tongue around the shaft, feeling the head twitch in your throat as his hips began to carefully thrust. Jungkook must have known that you were awake and not sleep-sucking his dick, but he wasn’t making any obvious noises.

(The aforementioned kink alive and well, folks!)

You heard him shudder and felt his fingertips skim over your cheek and clavicle. Probably to check the distance. His right leg must have been hovering over your body (you appreciated him not kneeing you in the boob, thank you, very kind), with his left knee by your right shoulder. You started curling your tongue back and forth as he moved, keeping your head still, and Jungkook gasped (a little too loud, pfft), being slightly rougher about it as your throat closed in around his twitching cock. He was mumbling something (useless prayers, your name, fuck me, the usual), and you still hadn’t moved your limbs yet, keeping the illusion alive. All activity in the depths of your mouth, squeezing, swirling your tongue around, letting him pause and edge himself with your lips rubbing the bottom of the swollen head, before shoving himself back in with a whining hiss, surprisingly not too deep, giving a whole new meaning to the term night sucker.

(Insert eyebrow wiggle here.)

His breathing was deepening, taking himself to the edge again, probably enjoying his full control of the pace as he filled your mouth over and over again, slow, deep, almost lazy, reaching his full girth and hardness.

This was when you let him know you were actually awake.

Because you grabbed his ass and jammed his cock all the way to the base, his balls smacking into your chin.

“Gah!”

You heard his palms smack into the headboard (or wall?) and, without giving him a moment to react, you extended the tip of your tongue past your lips to lick his balls, raising the back of your tongue to cup his cock and press It repeatedly against the back of your warm, tight throat.

“Woah, h-hey!”

You tipped your head back and took him deeper. Circled around his balls, leaving them wet, slippery, and tingling. His gruff, half-asleep moan drifted up to the ceiling, mixed with an exasperated whimper.

“I was… I was s-supposed to be catching you off guard… Now you’re just showing off!”

(He’s not wrong.)

You lifted your torso a bit, twisting, and rubbed your breasts against his thigh, sending sparks all throughout your torso. (Mmmm.) He was all tensed up and hard (heh) from maintaining his position above you. You knew he could feel your hard nipples because you heard the snack of his fist against the wall and his defeated groan, his head falling forward.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Jungkook was hot – er, ahem, ran hot. While being trapped between his (very sexy) legs was (very super) arousing, the summertime night heat was being exacerbated by his (very hot) body (you get the point), so you lowered back down to your pillow, kneading his incredible ass (won’t start again but, man, did you love his obsession with working out), nudging him to start moving again.

Thus, you comfortably enjoyed him face-fucking you, providing plenty of tongue action in your own right, his balls smacking against your chin with each thrust, with your spit sticky on your skin.

(Didn’t think that though, huh. Oh well.)

He kept a steady but intense pace. Since he led the movement, you could focus every muscle in your mouth – loose and soft around the length, lips tight, tongue roughly stimulating all his favorite spots, just under the head and along the underside, your saliva providing that frictionless slip, and then you felt his body shift.

His hand was moving.

A startled yelp stifled by his cock vibrated in your throat as his fingers slid down your stomach. His gasps hiked in pitch, and you curved your hips towards his touch, folding one of your legs to raise your lower body, and then his searching fingers grazed over your slick, dripping pussy, bringing the fire.

(And setting the night alight, iykyk.)

The human body could do a lot of creative things in the name of horny. Awkward body positions could be made comfortable by depraved adrenaline, and that was exactly what was happening right now, since there was no way in hell you were going to complain about Jungkook burying two fingers into you and sloppily rubbing your throbbing clit with his thumb. Not that you could say anything at all with him relentlessly thrusting his full-mast dick into your mouth (mhm, you just gushed down there, oh yeah, you felt that), rapidly building up his orgasm, deeply, slowly cutting off your air.

You could hold your breath a little longer.

(You could, in the name of lewd!)

And you were losing yourself in the pleasure, his fingers pumping in and out, fast and powerful, the wet slaps obscene, rocking your hips to his hand, tilting your head back as you sensed his body tensing up, his sounds ceasing into mute ecstasy and then.

“F-Fuck, yeeeeeees!”

He exploded (like… dynamite!), filling the back of your mouth with way too much cum (damn, his internal factories been working overtime), thick and heady and intense. Delicious. He stopped moving, soaking in the bliss, and you didn’t have a moment to swallow because you were too preoccupied hitting your own high, arching your spine, your eyes rolling back, your spasming pussy sucking in his fingers, sweat sticking to the top of your chest.

On instinct, you swallowed.

Too fast. Jungkook whined, pleading and desperate. Evidently, he seemed to figure out that you couldn’t control it since he didn’t react violently, only hitting the wall again (rest in disturbance, neighbors), screaming behind closed lips. You drew back a little, ghosting your tongue over the head, gently, and he moaned, drawn-out and wanton, clutching the headboard like a lifesaver as he was drowning in heavenly euphoria.

Wait.

His fingers were still stuffed into your pussy.

That meant he hit the wall with his forehead.

(Bro, you good?)

You couldn’t ask, but you patted his thigh to get his attention. After a moment of slow thrusting, you felt him try to move away (you sucked a little harder and Jungkook yelped at the oversensitivity,), and so you let go, only to be slapped in the face with his wet, half-hard cock.

“Ow.”

“Serves you right,” Jungkook shot back, sounding utterly drained. He still hadn’t moved his fingers from inside you. “How’d you wake up so fast?”

(‘Cause you’re not subtle, my lovely dummy.) “Mmmm, guess my mouth knows what to do when you put your dick in it.”

“Sus.”

He was stroking your wet pussy.

“What are you doing?”

“Touching your pussy, duh.”

You shifted your eyes and saw the fingers of his free hand wrapping around his hard cock. “Um.”

“What?”

“Nothin’, I was just thinkin’, ya know, I’m not very involved here.”

You were mocking his Busan accent and Jungkook growled, shoving another finger into you to express his irritation (wink wink). You didn’t react much except for grinning and spreading your thighs open more.

“Aren’t you sleepy? I’m thinking about your feelings.”

You were trying not to laugh at his poor attempt to be somewhat deadpan. Pretty difficult considering he was jacking himself off while fingering you. You clenched around his fingers and Jungkook hissed, whispering under his breath, again, and you did it again, fuck, feels so fucking good when you do that, ugh, and the fake spat was forgotten. Your hips rising, your hands fanning over your breasts, toying with your hard nipples, for you to melt and for him to watch, hotter, your chest tightening, biting your lip hard, the sting of pain deliberately delaying your rapidly building orgasm.

“Open your mouth, quick–”

You slid down and he shot thick, warm streams onto your tongue. Gasping and shuddering, those big eyes staring down at the amount (quite a lot, damn, proud of him) and you kept your cum-covered tongue extended, right up until you came onto his three fingers stretching you out, leaning your head back to let his orgasm hit the back of your throat as the first intense waves overcame you, strong flinches resonating up to your chest and head, swallowing and clamping your thighs shut around his muscular forearm.

A suspended, elated moment as you came down, gradually relaxing.

“Hah… fuck… uh…?”

Your tongue lazily snaked out and covered the tip of his softening cock, licking it off.

“Mmmm… ah, yeah…”

“How long you been planning that?” you asked without opening your eyes, squeezing his arm.

“I didn’t plan it.”

You could believe that. Jungkook didn’t plan shit. “Hmmmm…!”

“I swear!” He sounded like he was pouting. “I just happened to wake up really horny.”

This was not news. However, you continued to play dumb. “In the middle of the night?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“HMMMM!”

“What?! You’re naked!”

(Wait a second. Hold your oxen.) Your eyes snapped open. “Where are my panties?”

“Eh, I dunno.”

“Jungkook! You can’t just hide my panties whenever you want!”

(Yes, he can.)

“Uh, yeah, I can…!”

(Sigh.)

Your boyfriend’s teasing voice was sing-song and freaking annoying.

You shot up, and Jungkook was laughing, his short hair stuck up every which way (his bedhead was somethin’ fierce, so cute), backing up, and you saw your underwear on his nightstand, prompting a brief but rather titillating naked wrestling match. You lunged over him and Jungkook grabbed your waist, dragging you back with a prissy nuh uh, and you squirmed and twisted (probably turning him on, yup, you heard him moan a little just now), pawing for your panties. Somehow you hooked a leg over his shoulder, streaking a smear of your still-wet pussy over his built chest, and you attempted to sit on him. Repeatedly. Jungkook wasn’t making it very easy.

“Ow, damn, I worked out my chest today, come on!”

(If you insist.)

You stuck your tongue out to the biggest peepers glaring at you from below.

Then you got a great idea.

Brillant, really.

You sat on Jungkook’s face.

His big eyes shot open even wider and you had a moment of pre-nut clarity, since (um) your legs were a bit askew and you were half-crouching over him like a gremlin (not the hottest look), but in less than a second, Jungkook had his hands on your ass and lifted you up, planting your trembling pussy firmly onto his hungry mouth, shoving his tongue inside you. You gasped, clutching fistfuls of the sheets for some sense of stability. Meanwhile, your man was in a different dimension, groaning loudly under you and making your insides vibrate with his sound, jarring for a moment before you forgot whatever it was that had surprised you, oooh, damn, you couldn’t remember for the life of you what the heck you were worried about, too busy grinding onto his nose like a mate in heat.

(Ah… well, let’s not go there for today. Uh.)

Your panties were within reach, but you didn’t care, throwing your head back and moaning as you felt his tongue glide all over, rubbing against your clit, sucking on it noisily, more for effect than for pleasure, making you laugh, and then you melted into his hands, rocking your hips forward.

The palms of his hands pushed against your abdomen, and you realized his (big) nose was having trouble breathing (serves you right!), but after a moment of resisting on purpose, you leaned back, snickering at the gush of hot air washing over your crotch, his low moan trapped in his chest. He pinned your thighs in place, and you flexed them, feeling the power in his hands, shivering in delight at the sensations of his closed lips and swirling tongue, precise and careful and better than you remembered it. You pressed your hips into his mouth and he got the hint, putting more strength into it, there, ah, fuck, yes, Jungkook, clenching your core to hold yourself up.

Hey, you worked out too! (Okay, yes, it’s a stretch but we gotta take the small wins where we can.) Your ass was going to get sweaty at this rate (see!) due to how warm Jungkook was getting (oh…), but you sacrificed for the greater good (cumming on his face), consumed by the harsh rhythm of his tongue, closing your eyes, blanketed in lust-drunk darkness, your muscles tensing, clenching your jaw.

“Mmmm, yes, Jungkook, yes…!”

Strangely you could only now really feel the press of his two lip rings in the dip of your thigh, but perhaps that was because you were forcefully gripping his head and pressing your throbbing pussy into his mouth, moaning, your torso flinching strongly, throwing yourself forward with a gasp, another wave of your orgasm shooting up from between your legs, spreading all over your shaking chest and through your arms. Aaaaaaah. The high wound down, dissipating all over. Your limbs were giving the consistency of fruit jelly.

Delicious.

Actually.

You could use some bingsoo right now, to be honest.

Fuck, it was hot.

You let out an exhilarated exhale, lifting your hips (someone was smacking your thigh, how odd), and Jungkook gulped lungfuls of air, groaning, running his tongue up and down between your legs as you reached over and snatched up your underwear.

Truth was…

You had indeed been jostled awake to Jungkook fumbling around with your panties earlier. Even lifted your hips to help him out. You had known damn well what was coming. Ten minutes of him laying down next to you, his hand over your pussy, calmly caressing the outer lips. Allegedly, he innocently liked to touch your bits because your pussy was pretty. He just wanted to hold it before he went to sleep. Uh huh. Yeah, okay. Even if that was true (it was, how sweet), inevitably, his lizard brain would overcome him (and that it did) and you would soon end up in a compromising position (in this case, his dick in your mouth, mhm, talk about a midsummer night’s dream). If you hadn’t wanted it, you would have stopped him, but (not gonna lie) his dick was a very tasty midnight snack.

It was the weekend, so might as well give into the voices.

(He was probably getting you back for all the times you shook him awake at three in the morning to ride his hard dick, as he should. We’re all unhinged in this house.)

You got off him and Jungkook complained immediately, only to be shut up by you throwing the hand towel on your nightstand at him.

“You’re sweaty!”

“Whose fault is that?!”

“Yours, you horndog!”

“I didn’t tell you to sit on my face!”

“Oh, like your big peepers weren’t BEGGING for it!”

“Well, SOR-REEEE that I think my future wife is hot, what a CRIME!”

He was following (chasing) you to the bathroom. You attempted to close the door in his face and he shoved his naked booty in there with you despite your protests of needing to pee.

“So what! I’m looking!”

“You’re such a creep,” you accused (fondly).

You sat down on the toilet and did your business with Jungkook pointedly staring at you and you pointedly staring back. He was wiping down his shoulders. In the bathroom light, you could see his black hair was slightly damp from sweat. His forehead was glistening, droplets beaded on his skin. His pecs were indeed looking especially delectable today. You stared harder. He twitched and did the same, his big brown eyes making him look extra psycho. He raised the towel just a bit, and you jumped for the toilet paper.

“EY!”

You smacked his tattooed forearm. “Wipe your face!”

“This is the best part!”

“You’re gross,” you snapped, somewhat annoyed but also too used to it (this was the definition of being too comfortable with each other), finishing up neatly and quickly, flushing with a glare before getting up to wash your hands. “What weirdo stands there when a girl is going to the bathroom?”

He looked extremely offended and pouty. “Um, your future husband?”

“My future husband is a creep,” you chirped annoyingly, rinsing off your hands and drying them off.

“As I should be,” Jungkook shot back. “How else will you know I love you?!”

“By being, I dunno, nice and wholesome?”

“I am wholesome! That’s why you put up with me!”

You flapped your hands in mock exasperation.

“What would you do without me?”

Jungkook clasped a hand over his chest, all hilarious dramatics, putting on a solemn expression.

“Be full of cum and empty of heart.”

He placed the back of his hand over his forehead, pretending to sob. You fell into him in roaring laughter, wrapping your arms around him. He immediately showered you with kisses amidst giggles, the towel around his shoulders, flicking his sweat on you (freaking annoying), and you couldn’t ask for a better man. Jungkook could propose to you with a goddamn tempura onion ring and you’d say yes. You were only complaining to complain. It was fun to bicker knowing full well neither of you meant it.

That was how you knew this love was true and perfect.

(See, look at us, a wholesome lovey-dovey couple!)

You both had to spend several minutes standing in the apartment naked, enjoying the air-conditioning, wondering out loud if your neighbors heard anything, asking each other if, hm, maybe a house should be in the works at some point? The living room couldn’t always be Jungkook’s personal gym (yes, it could, he liked to work out while watching television and you weren’t gonna stop him). Anyway, you two might need space, later, just in case.

“You know you’ll have to control yourself if we end up having kids.”

Jungkook made a face of mock disgust. “They’ll have to know how they were made eventually.”

You facepalmed.

(We’ll have to work on it. Future you problem. Future you was a sucker. For Jeon Jungkook. Gross.)

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut

1K notes · View notes

darylbae · 6 months ago

Note

there’s just smth about daryl seeing you injured maybe a broken leg or even an amputated one from a bite and limping, someone holding you up as you walk. he’d almost run over to you and pick you up.

a dumb idea — daryl dixon 🩰

in which you were injured on a run, and daryl can't bare to see you that way without helping.

Rick had chosen you for a run, not alone, but for you to go. He'd seen you were quick, efficient with your melee weapons, and were probably one of the best choices. You were joining Rick and Glenn, Daryl having to sit this one out by Rick's orders. He hadn't cleared the prison in full yet, so he wanted Daryl back here to keep watch. Daryl and you weren't exclusively a thing, neither of you had spoken about it at all, but everyone else could see it was waiting to happen. You were currently just really good friends hiding your feelings for each other, or at least thinking you were hiding your feelings for each other. You were sat in the backseat of the car, happily talking to Glenn as the car rolled towards the gates. You glanced out the window to see Daryl, sulking at the gate yet picking his arm up to wave at you. You returned the gesture, a sweet smile on your face that Daryl had become addicted to. One of the many addicting things about you.

Your positive-for-the-end-of-the-world attitude had come to an end when you'd ran into a building to find some cover, the darkness of the building rendering you blind as your leg had been impaled by a broken bit of a glass shelf. You let out a cry, falling to your feet as Rick and Glenn rushed over to assist you. "You good?" "What happened?" Rick had turned a flashlight to your leg, seeing your jeans ripped and stuck to your leg with the amount of blood. You almost passed out at the look of it, the glass had lodged itself in there pretty snug. "We need to get her back, now," Rick demanded, wrapping an arm around your back and coordinating with Glenn to get you safely to the car. Rick had taken his shirt off and tied it around your leg above the wound, before beginning the drive back to the prison. Glenn had trained his eyes on you and your leg for most of the drive, making sure you were still alive and not dying back there. The drive felt like hours, you felt like closing your eyes but Glenn was adamant on talking to you. Telling you about Maggie, telling you about how sweet Daryl seems to be around you, and you knew it was a distraction tactic, to keep you awake and not looking at your completely blood soaked shin.

You heard the rattle of the gates as they'd slid open for the car, and you felt a short burst of relief to be back. "Dar..." You managed to speak, wincing as Rick had reached for your hand to pull you out. "Daryl." Rick and Glenn had their arms under yours, carrying most of your weight for you. Until Daryl had heard the commotion and come out to see what the fuck people were shouting for.

Daryl saw you. Your leg, completely red from the knee down, being assisted into the prison. He wanted to help, he wanted to ease your pain even just a little. Dropping his crossbow to the ground, he'd paced over to you, relieving Glenn and Rick of their duties. "It's okay, I got ya," he cooed, "I got 'er," he'd lifted you, arms clinging to you as he led you to the cell block. "It's okay, sweetheart." Your blood loss wasn't fatal, thankfully, but Herschel was about to have you on the mend in no time.

You'd been allowed to rest, peeling your eyes open after having slept a while. The first thing you were aware of was the pain in your leg, which was thankfully still there. It was still light outside, so it must not have been long at all. A bottle of water and some pain meds were sat at your bedside, and you'd desperately taken them in order to ease your pain. "There's my girl." You heard, and Daryl had entered your cell and sat at your side. "How's the leg?" You chuckled. "It's seen better days." You could've sworn you'd spotted a smile on his face for a moment. "Were you scared? Did you think I was gonna die?" You teased, poking his arm and smiling innocently up at him. "No," he answered, "you're a fighter. I know that." There was something he was keeping to himself, you could see it in his brain. Almost as if he wasn't allowing himself to say it. It had been a tough process even getting to a friendly level with him, he had always kept his feelings to himself. But you liked to believe you were making progress with him, you wanted to. "What's on your mind?" You asked sweetly, your voice like honey, and he was addicted. God, he was addicted. He wanted nothing more than to have you night and day, for breakfast, lunch and dinner. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting, or even dating. "Nothin," he grumbled, and you sighed dramatically. "Come on, Daryl," you exclaimed, "talk to me. I need some sort of stimulation for my brain." Your voice was light, but you meant it. He paused, almost debating whether or not to say it. "I just care about ya, is all. When I saw ya bein carried in, my mind just stopped and all I wanted to do was make sure you were okay. Told Rick it was a dumb idea." You smiled, poking his arm again. "You care about me, that's sweet. I care about you, too." He grabbed your hand as it made contact with his arm, and just held it between his own. This was his way of expression, to show you how he felt without ruining it with his words. The pair of you just sat in silence, hands interlaced, a stupid grin on both your faces as you stared at each other. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins, a wave of confidence taking over you as you leaned up and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. Once Daryl had registered what you'd done, he'd turned his head, closing the small gap between you both for a delicate kiss. He was so gentle, his hands still holding yours firmly, and you wanted to do this forever. "I hope that speaks better than I do." He admitted, and you just laughed, resting your head on your shoulder. "Now get some rest, I don't want to see ya on your feet for the rest of the day."

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl dixon incorrect quotes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon twd

2K notes · View notes

saetoru · 1 year ago

Text

BEWARE OF PHAGOCYTIC RAIN — AL-HAITHAM.

kinktober day three — aphrodisiacs ; find masterlist here

synopsis. the akademiya textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea, and mild sexual arousal. except the textbook lied. it’s not mild. al-haitham and you might need to pause your desert trip for a moment

length. 4.3k words (omg this is the shortest one so far)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, aphrodisiacs + dub con, mentions of injuries and blood (al-haitham gets stung by a consecrated scorpion), reader sits on his lap, hand jobs, unprotected sex, no prep, riding, creampie, implied (future) multiple orgasms, reader is mentioned to have a dendro vision + is a haravatat scholar

notes. i made this up. the new consecrated scorpions lore is that their venom can be a sex stimulant thanks

“haitham,” you complain—although, you probably really shouldn’t. in fact, you definitely should not complain. al-haitham has so graciously allowed you to accompany this trip to the desert, and you should not get in the way. still, your feet ache, and the sun is blaring, and god—would kill you both to have a break? “can’t we just stop for a bit?”

but with you, al-haitham is always patient. you can see him diligently take the time to be patient as he stills and sighs quietly, not letting himself ever get frustrated with you. “it’ll get cold if night falls,” he reasons, “c’mon, you’ll definitely want to rest inside the ruins instead of outside tonight.”

“but baby,” you protest, “my feet hurt.”

“i know,” he nods, like validating your feelings will make them any better, “but the safest option would be to camp inside the ruins instead of out here—”

“hey, haitham?” you cut him off, suddenly whispering quietly as you huddle closer, “what…what’s that?” he looks over his shoulder to where you point—and then he stiffens.

“oh, great,” he hisses, groaning under his breath, “seriously? now?”

what looks like a giant scorpion seems to be pacing in the distance, the large, sharp stinger on its tail clear as day, even from where you stand, a good range away. you’ve never seen one of these before, never even heard of giant scorpions that roam the desert. al-haitham has certainly never told you about seeing them, with all the times he visits the desert himself. he seems rather familiar with them, too, staring exasperatedly off at the beast as it circles the territory you absolutely have to pass.

“why is there a giant scorpion here? are there always these things in the desert? i’ve never heard of—wait,” you pause, “i have a textbook from the akademiya on desert exploration. i brought it just in case!”

“we don’t need that,” he insists, “i’ve dealt with these plenty of times. just leave it to me.”

you’ve never been to the desert—but al-haitham always mentions the ancient letters he sees in the ruins he explores. it’s tempting; being a scholar is always the never-ending temptation of knowledge—and you are both haravatat scholars, after all. studying an ancient alphabet is enough to make you plead with al-haitham to take you with him on his next trip.

he can’t say no to you, of course—he never can. but it’s your first time here, and evidently…it’s not going exactly as planned.

you open the book, skimming through the pages before your eyes land on a sketch that looks strikingly similar to the same beast you see in the distance. the textbook reads as follows: consecrated scorpion stings are not deadly, but it is advised to proceed with caution in the event of encountering one. that seems like complete and utter bullshit—this seems rather deadly.

“haitham,” you whisper, “i think we should leave. this doesn’t seem—”

“we can take it,” he argues, “i’ve taken them before on my own quite a lot in the past.”

“but baby, this one seems a bit big—”

“it’ll be fine,” he assures.

you sigh, looking back at the book and scanning over the section that goes into detail about its attack patterns. “okay, fine—let me just read over how they attack so i know what to expect.”

phagocytic form—beasts enter phagocytic form immediately when in combat, resulting in an increase in resistance to all elements. there is double the resistance to electro attacks. well, you think, it’s a good thing cyno isn’t the one fighting today—otherwise, you think you might be screwed.

this is fine. everything is fine. you and al-haitham both have dendro visions; this shouldn’t be too bad, right?

melee combo one—beasts perform a two-part combo with their claws. alright, not too bad. you can easily dodge that, you reason. melee combo two—beasts perform a three-part combo consisting of a single strike with both claws, a flurry of claw strikes while rushing forward, and a projectile fired from its stinger. now that seems a bit troublesome, but you’ve dealt with worse.

“i’ll take care of it,” al-haitham calls over his shoulder, catching your attention as he draws out his sword. you look up from the pages frantically.

“wait, i really think we should handle this together if we’re going to take this. just let me read on the attack patterns a bit more—”

he’s already made the first attack. you can hear the angry hiss of the scorpion, can practically see the fury in its beady eyes from behind the thick skull covering its head. al-haitham, to your slight comfort, dodges melee combos one and two expertly.

maybe he was right—maybe you’ve been panicking for nothing.

you look back at the book. dig—beasts dig into the ground and attack the target from below, staying within the range of a visible electro ring. alright, as long as you leave the ring before the scorpion pops out of the ground, you should be fine. nothing to worry about. spikes—beasts plug their tails into the ground and rapidly produce spikes around themselves to shock targets. another easy dodge—you just have to make sure you escape the vicinity.

you look up, and al-haitham has already easily leapt from the ring and landed himself on higher ground. he waits, watches as the beast emerges from underground, and plants its tail into the ground—this must be the spikes. al-haitham is rather excellent at fighting these things—you have to admit. as soon as the spikes are gone, he takes his chance to plunge down, perfectly landing a hard hit to its head with the edge of his sword, making its body slump to the ground.

he might just finish this alone like he said.

“there,” he nods, flashing you a smooth grin, “i told you i’d handle it. now then, let’s—”

the loud, sinister hiss from behind cuts him off—it makes you watch in abject horror as the scorpion rises and does a rapid spin.

you look over the pages as quickly as you can—is there more? there’s nothing else on the page, is there? you quickly flick your eyes to the next page and—oh.

oh no.

phagocytic rain—beasts rapidly spin and scatter many stingers into the air before slamming their claws and unleashing stingers down from above. these stingers, once pierced into the skin, can cause side effects as a result of consecrated venom.

“well, it’s never done that before,” al-haitham holds up his sword, getting ready to fight.

no. he has to get away—he needs to get away. the words don’t come quick enough from your throat as you scream, “haitham, no! you have to get away—”

it’s too late. you can hear him let out a strangled groan of pain, clutching his arm as his sword instantly falls to the floor, a gash already decorating his skin from a stinger he didn’t manage to dodge. before you can even think, you grab your weapon and run, leaping between al-haitham and the scorpion and landing another perfect blow to its head—just before that giant, deadly-looking stinger on its tail can plunge into him.

it goes limp, falling to the floor with a thud, the glow of its body dimming instantly.

“fuck,” he curses—al-haitham rarely curses. this is not a light sting. “since when do they do that?”

“since forever,” you hiss, grabbing the edge of his cape to press on his wound and stop the blood flow, “maybe if you’d just listened to me and read the attack patterns with me, you’d have known that.”

“i’ve fought these plenty of times,” he says indignantly, teeth still grit in pain, “they never do that.”

“maybe if you weren’t such a know it all,” you grumble—but then you gently reach over, cupping his cheek as you trace a thumb over the skin comfortingly, “is it too bad?” you ask, concern evident enough in your tone that he feels slightly bad.

al-haitham shakes his head, sighing quietly as you kiss his jaw. “i’ll be fine. i’ll just patch it up before we camp for the night.”

“are you sure? maybe we should—”

“it’ll be fine,” he hums, “their venom isn’t deadly anyway.”

—————

you and al-haitham manage to make it to the ruins by nightfall. somehow, miraculously, the two of you are able to trek towards the pyramid and seek shelter indoors for the night, right before it gets too dark and too cold.

al-haitham seems to act stranger and stranger as time goes on, quietly sitting in a corner against the wall and patching his arm up himself as you set up the fire by the tent. you look over at him and watch as he shudders and groans lightly.

“are you sure you’re alright?” you ask in concern, walking over and sitting as you curl up next to him, raising a brow as his body seems to stiffen at your touch, “baby, you seem…”

“i’m fine,” he says curtly.

you don’t seem to be convinced, furrowing your brows before pressing a palm to his forehead—hot. incredibly and unnaturally hot skin that’s flushed a shade of crimson you hardly see on al-haitham, even when you tease him in that cheeky, flirty little way of yours that dusts blush over his face every time.

“haitham,” you gasp, hand brushing back his bangs to feel more of his skin—it’s only then, do you realize just how sweaty his skin seems to be, too. “you’re burning up!”

“i’m okay—”

“maybe you should take your shirt off,” you say quickly, wiping the sweat from his forehead as you sit up straight, “it’s just the two of us here, anyway. it’ll be fine—”

“no,” he grits, voice strangled, “i’m—hah” he cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, “—i’m okay. just leave me alone, please. i’ll just go walk it off in a bit.”

he’s panting. you can hear the way his voice is strained and the way his chest rises and falls rather rapidly. you should check the book again, just to see if there’s anything about the side effects in the event you do happen to get stung.

“hmm, the textbook says—”

“do not read the textbook,” he practically begs.

you do anyway. “possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea,” you start, glancing up at him and eyeing his patched arm, “well, there was some swelling. are you nauseous?”

“no,” he almost wheezes out.

“let’s see, and it also says it can cause—oh.”

possible side effects of stings include swelling, pain, nausea—you pause and swallow thickly as you read over the final part—and mild sexual arousal. sexual arousal. well, that would explain the heated and flushed skin, you suppose. and the sweat. you glance up at al-haitham—he does anything but meet your eyes.

“i told you,” he says stiffly, muffling a groan as he crosses his arms and hunches forward, “i’ll be fine—”

“baby,” you hum, chuckling slightly as you run a hand through his hair—he gulps, still avoiding your gaze, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“don’t,” he warns, jaw clenching as he looks up and stares at you with that same look of hunger you’ve seen so many times before. it’s clear al-haitham is trying to fight off whatever he’s feeling—but the reality is clear.

he’s very quickly losing himself to his desires.

“but it’s just us in here,” you insist, hand trailing down his chest slowly before settling on his thigh. his breath hitches, following your hand with his eyes as it rubs along slowly and moves closer and closer inwards. “these ruins have been abandoned for who knows how long—and we’re the only ones from the akademiya cleared to explore them.”

“don’t,” he says again—there’s a warning tone to his voice this time, slightly more raspy and entirely more breathless, “if…if i start, i don’t know if i’ll be able to stop.”

“oh, but haitham,” you pout, slinging a leg over his waist and seating yourself on his lap. you stare down at his crotch—wet. there’s a very noticeable wet patch over the bulge in his pants. you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. “who says i’d want you to stop?”

“love, i’m serious,” he closes his eyes and swallows, panting as a bead of sweat rolls down his temple, “you should sleep. i’ll be okay—o-oh, fuck,” he cuts himself off with a gasp, hissing as you reach past his waistband and free his strained cock from the confinements.

it’s thick, his erection—probably far more swollen than you’ve ever seen it before. it almost looks painful, with how red it is at the tip, with how it twitches from nothing else but the cool air hitting the heated skin. you think it might just be aching, in fact, from how he whimpers as you wrap a hand around it, just barely squeezing, just barely applying pressure to really relieve anything.

“hmm,” you look down, inspecting, “seems sensitive.” you give it a slow, experimental stroke, instantly making him groan loudly as his head falls back, a stream of pre cum leaking from the tip enough to coat his already slick cock.

“fuck, fuck—more,” he rasps, hand grabbing your thigh and squeezing hard to ground himself.

“okay,” you murmur, nodding to yourself, “very sensitive. guess we’ll just have to get this out of your system.”

you drag your hand over his length, slow at first, before building up a quick, steady rhythm—just the way he’s always liked it. you lean in, kissing along his jaw as he writhes under you while you squeeze around the base of his cock, rolling your palm over his tip before repeating the motion over and over and over again.

his mouth is parted, low groans and the occasional soft whine fall past his lips, making the ache between your own legs worsen as you watch him fall apart. there’s a dull throb in your core, and you can feel the fabric of your underwear dampen, but all you’re worried about for now is the man before you. any other time, you’d think it’s a bit shameless, doing something so dirty, so filthy, so inappropriate in the middle of the desert like this–especially while on a research expedition, no less. but you couldn’t just leave your boyfriend to suffer like this, could you? what kind of girlfriend would you be then? and you’re not so cruel as to leave al-haitham to suffer like this all night, or longer, even—who knows how long before the side effects wear off? it’s the wisest choice to just help him, to take care of him like he always takes care of you.

that’s right, you think to yourself—you’re helping him like any doting lover would. you’re not at all interested by this predicament of his…or aroused, for that matter. no, you’re simply worried for him, and it’s up to you to relieve him of the painfully frustrating tension he must be suffering through after he so graciously fought to protect you from the dangers of the desert.

“jus’ like that,” he gasps as you touch him, chest still rising and falling as quickly as before—his shirt is damp too, a noticeable wet patch forming over most of it as the sweat collects on the fabric, “d-don’t stop—fuck, feels so good.”

“c’mon, haitham,” you murmur, taking your other hand to tug at the end of his shirt, “take this off—i told you, you’ll feel better.”

he listens—whatever is in that venom must be something strong because al-haitham is the most stubborn individual you’ve ever met. under normal circumstances, he’d refuse to take his shirt off even if, deep down, he knew himself it’d help. but right now, he quickly reaches at the hem before pulling it off, tossing it to the side as his bare chest is exposed for you to admire. his usual pale skin is flushed, a soft pink that glistens from the sweat that he can’t seem to get rid of, even as you work his swollen cock with your fist.

it’s pretty, the way he sounds, the way he looks. you run a thumb over his slit, and he whimpers. not too often of times have you heard al-haitham whimper—but today, he seems to have lost any and all control, too busy thrusting his hips up to meet your strokes as he moans lowly.

“when’d you start to feel it?” you ask curiously, pecking his forehead as you leave scattered kisses along his face, “how long have you been trying to play it off?”

“s-since…” he starts, but he trails off as your thumb traces over a thick being along the underside of his length, letting out a soft whine at the feeling before bucking his hip into your hand more desperately. you don’t think you’ve ever seen al-haitham so worked up—so needy and riled up and painfully fucked out before he’s even cum yet. “since i f-first got stung,” he admits through labored breaths, “just got worse slowly.”

“you should’ve told me,” you coo, “not like i don’t see you like this anyway. poor thing,” you pout softly, eyeing the way his cock twitches in your hand, more beads of pre cum oozing from the tip and leaving a stream down his length, “looks like it hurts.”

“it does,” he rasps, “feels…feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“don’t worry,” you hum, squeezing tighter around him, working him quicker as your hand jerks his aching cock off with a tight fist, “i’ll help you cum. ‘s what you deserve for fighting that thing for me. my strong baby.”

“c-close,” he says through a cracked voice, like the praise is enough to send him hurtling over the edge, “‘m so close—sh-shit.”

“yeah?” you ask sweetly, pecking his forehead, “then cum, baby. think you’ll feel much better.”

you roll a thumb over his nipple, hard under the pad of your thumb, and enough to make him gasp loudly before he lets out a deep grunt, cum spilling from his sensitive tip. it’s more than you’ve ever seen from him—thick, endless ropes of hot, sticky cum coating your hand and his abs as you pump his cock through his orgasm. you’re glad you made him take his shirt off—this would’ve been an even more unpleasant trip if he’d had to walk around in a soiled shirt.

“fuck, f-fuck—so g-good,” he stutters, his head thrown back against the wall that supports his body, legs spreading apart to give you better access to working his cock through his high. one hand reaches to play with his balls as you milk his cock, squeezing as you stroke upwards and watch every thick drop of cum shoot past his tip.

it feels like forever, his orgasm. it’s long, and his voice is strained from calling your name over and over by the time he’s finished—but he’s still just as hard as before. no—in fact, you think he might be even harder.

“well…” you start, staring at his erection as it rests against his sculpted abs, “i don’t think that did much.”

“no,” he pants, staring at you through lust-hazed eyes, “it didn’t. but i have an idea that might help, though.”

“yeah? what is it, oh wise grand sage?”

al-haitham, for the first time ever, doesn’t correct you that he’s the acting grand sage. instead, he lifts you up slightly and pulls your pants down to pool at your ankles before lining your dripping cunt over his cock. you bite your lip, moving to ever so slightly drag his tip along your clit, making the both of you shiver with a desperate gasp at the ghost friction.

“i think,” he starts, finger circling your clit slowly as you whine before letting your head fall to the crook of his neck, “that perhaps fucking you might be the only way to get this out of my system. what do you say?”

“haitham, please,” you whine, fingers digging into his shoulders as you clutch onto him, “need you.”

“yeah?” he chuckles breathlessly, replacing his finger and teasing your folds with the tip of his cock, coating the head with the slick of your pussy as you quiver over him, “need me, huh? i thought i was the one who got stung. shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

you would scoff if you weren’t aching to feel the burning stretch of him intruding your neglected cunt—al-haitham always finds a way to be himself at the end of the day. always so frustratingly confident and painfully good at teasing.

“fuck me, haitham,” you plead, pushing your hips down until the first few inches of his length push past your entrance, dragging his tip along your folds and pulling a whine from you as he chokes on a low groan.

“f-fuck,” he grunts, “so tight—a-always so tight.”

his hands grasp at your hips, slowly guiding you to sink all the way down on his cock, taking it inch by inch until he’s buried all the way, his tip nudging perfectly against that sensitive spot in the back of your walls. al-haitham feels like he’s been made just for you like that—fitting you perfectly enough that he hits all the right spots without even trying, without even having to angle his hips in order to give you what you need from him.

you feel sweat collect on your own forehead, mirroring the same glistening of his own skin as you bite your lip and whimper out a pathetic, “h-haitham, more—please.”

“it’s a good thing i brought you with me,” he pants as he snaps his hips up, his hands still guiding your hips to bounce on his cock as you pull up before slamming back down, your walls hugging his thick girth tightly while his fat tip presses against your sweet spot. “imagine where i’d be if you weren’t here. j-jus’ wouldn’t feel the same if i was fucking my fist instead of this sweet cunt.”

the stretch is too good—the way he splits you open as he bullies into your pussy, pushing past your folds and dragging his thick veins along your walls, makes your head spin, pleasure burning up your nerves and spreading across your entire body. your lips attach themselves to his neck, kissing and sucking along the skin as he groans and tightens his bruising grip on your hips.

“b-baby—fuck, ‘s so good,” you mewl, “h-haitham—oh.”

“take me so well,” he says breathlessly, face falling slack as your walls flutter around his length and relieve the ache that was all too overwhelming just a few moments ago—being buried into your pussy is enough to turn the tight grit of his jaw into a loose, parted lips as he moans your name. “taking it so well, like the good girl you are. you—ngh, fuck—you want to make me feel better, don’t you?”

“i do,” you nod, sobbing as his thumb finds your clit and rubs harsh circles into the delicate bundle of nerves, “i do, i do—please, haitham. faster, need more.”

“yeah?” he lets out a strangled chuckle, biting his lip and groaning as you snap your hips down particularly rough, squeezing around him tightly, “you need more? i’d almost say you were stung instead of me.”

your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving angry, red marks in their wake as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. you slam down on him with every roll of your hips, his own meeting you halfway as he bucks up, fucking into you—you can feel it, the impending high that you reach closer and closer to, every circle of his thumb on your clit and every brush of his cock against your walls bringing you close to falling off the edge.

“‘m…g-gonna cum, haitham—fuck, a-almost there, baby,” you pant, mewling as you throw your head back while he leans in to kiss your neck, biting hard enough that you almost wonder if there’s blood.

“me too,” he groans, “you…you’re so perfect,” you feel his head bury into your shoulder, his forehead digging into your shoulder as you cradle the back of his head with a hand and whine, “i’m bringing you to every trip—fuck you in every ruin i explore. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“yes, yes—please,” you babble, nodding as your back arches before you feel the coil snap—you gasp his name, a repeat of haitham, haitham, haitham, falling from your lips as he fucks into you through your high. the spasm of your walls around him sends him hurtling into his second orgasm—even more earth-shattering than the first.

“that’s it,” he moans, his voice deep and raspy as it cracks in the middle, “can’t even be mad i got stung—not when you let me fuck you l-like this. so…feels so good—’m c-cumming.”

it’s not the first time al-haitham has cum in you—but it’s never felt like this before. it’s hot, his cum—it spills into you and coats your walls in a sticky mess that forms a ring at the base of his cock as it pumps into you. the mess of his release and your arousal coats both of your thighs, leaking from your abused cunt and smearing along your skin. you can feel him twitch with every rope, can feel the way he throbs as he spills into you and paints your walls white with his release. it’s desperate—needy and so, so filthy, just like the sounds he makes into your ear, breathless pants that make your stomach do flips as you listen to him fall apart and break.

he slumps as he finishes, your body falling against him as you both pant harshly and catch your breaths. he kisses your neck delicately as you stroke his hair, admiring his spent form under you.

“as much as i hate that you got stung,” you mumble, “this…this might not have been the worst thing.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, looking up and raising a brow—it’s only then that you feel it, the twitch of his still hard cock, still buried deep in your abused cunt, “are you sure? because we aren’t nearly finished yet—i really hope you’re prepared to take it.”

the textbook may have lied, you think—this is not mild at all. this might delay your trip quite a bit.

i would go with him hoping he gets stung every time so i could suck the soul out of him tbh

#🎃 — kinkteeber !!#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x you #thirstee!#teepods.writings #fics.

5K notes · View notes

propertyofwicked · 8 months ago

Text

"it'll grow back" - LN

v short. just expressing my sadness for the loss of beard lando </3 it's been a rough day lads

tried a little bit of social media au stuff so lemme know if that works <3

“hey ba-”

“you are in so much trouble,” you announce as he picks up the phone, pacing around the airport waiting for your layover flight to join him in australia.

“wha-? why?” lando says, his voice wavering slightly in panic, trying to remember everything he’d done in the last 24 hours that could anger you.

“how could you? how could you shave before i got to say a proper goodbye?” you whine down the phone, exaggerating your sadness at the loss of his facial hair.

“im sorry ba-”

“no i dont wanna hear it. firstly - i had to find out through twitter! AND my flight lands in 5 hours - you couldn’t wait till then?”

“if i waited you would’ve talked me out of it!” he argues back in jest.

“precisely!” you argue, the phone line falling silent, asides from max laughing in the background, and lando clearly trying to stifle his own giggles.

“max you’re a traitor! you promised me you would stop him,” you say, knowing he can hear you. max says nothing in response, just continues to laugh until he’s wheezing.

the announcement of your flight boarding was probably well timed, alerting you that you need to leave before the argument get serious.

“get on your flight angel, ill be at the airport to pick you up when you land.”

“you better be, you owe me.”

when you finally spot him in the airport, your pace quickens to meet him and his embrace. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms moving to rest on and behind your shoulders. your head rolls backwards slightly to look up at him, as sigh escaping your lips when you see the lack of facial hair in person.

“12 seconds!” max exclaims from behind him, holding up his phone timer, “it took you 12 seconds to make a remark about him shaving!”

“hey! i didn’t even say anything,” you argue back.

"debatable."

“it’s ok y/n - it’ll grow back,” lando says, grinning at you before looking down and kissing your lips. the lack of scruff touching your face is unfamiliar.

“but now it feels like i’m kissing a 13 year old boy.” max snorts at your response, lando just keeps smiling down at you.

“when did you last eat?” lando asks, moving the conversation along, as he grabs your suitcase and starts walking to the car, you and max stood either side of him.

“erm, on the first flight - so i don’t know but i am starving.”

“let’s go get you some dinner. i’ll pay, call it an apology.”

“lan, you’d insist on paying whether i was owed an apology or not,” you retort, moving to sit in the car.

“i’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, smirking at you. you had almost forgotten max was there till he started making fake vomit noises at lando’s comment.

“i’d love to see you try.”

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #propertyofwicked #f1socialmediaau

3K notes · View notes

ckret2 · 7 months ago

Text

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said.

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him.

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle.

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old.

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief.

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

#bill cipher #the axolotl #(for the art)#human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

1K notes · View notes