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reilemon · 2 months ago

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🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety. He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel smut #lads smut #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 4 months ago

Text

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising.

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can.

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols.

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed.

“A crab,”

“Yes,”

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby.

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke.

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book.

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself.

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else.

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend.

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend.

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand.

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together.

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return.

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance.

“You must really like the beach.”

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too.

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.”

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock.

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.”

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him.

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker.

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up.

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,”

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses.

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look.

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone.

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain.

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?”

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up.

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat.

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh.

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away.

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job.

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes.

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.”

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little.

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words.

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically.

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you.

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively.

And then you make a giant fucking mistake.

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too.

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs.

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body.

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures.

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side.

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back.

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise.

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic.

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing.

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it.

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.”

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-”

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing.

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up.

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building.

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.”

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk.

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window.

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above.

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand.

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?”

“Mm, a few times.”

“How?”

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.”

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,”

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little.

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat.

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.”

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false.

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper.

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders.

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms.

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach.

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen.

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs.

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.”

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass.

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy.

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general.

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily.

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more.

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss.

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face.

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand.

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you.

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine.

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that.

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.”

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips.

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you.

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact.

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim.

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly.

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length.

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly.

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed.

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this.

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu.

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum.

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you.

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this.

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up.

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time.

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs.

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?”

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him.

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here.

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.”

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape.

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?”

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.”

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.”

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?”

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin.

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?”

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.”

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.”

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

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navybrat817 · 5 months ago

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You're a Firework

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're all set to watch fireworks with the gang and Bucky can't keep his hands to himself. Word Count: Over 2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, semi-public sexy times, pet names, inner monologue, established relationship, humor, feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I KNOW it's Steve's birthday, but my muse demanded Stud and Smartie. ❤️ I'm so sorry, lovelies. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You know,” Natasha began as she handed you a drink. “You and Bucky could've had your wedding today. No one would have objected.”

“With Steve's birthday right around the corner? And take away from Sam’s amazing barbeque? No way,” you smiled, stepping out of the way as Clint walked by with sparklers in each hand. You refused to take attention away from either of them. “I’m glad we’re all hanging out though.”

Today was a good day. Not only was the weather as close to perfect as it could get, not too warm or too cold, it was a chance to get together and mingle since everyone had a few days off. Between the sunshine, food, and games, the gang had a lot of fun. You imagined your wedding reception would be fun, too.

Maybe the two of you could even have sparklers to celebrate, if only to entertain Clint.

“Bucky called you his wife earlier,” the redhead commented.

“He did?” You smiled, your heart swelling.

“He did. When you beat Sam at horseshoes, he looked right at Steve and said, ‘that’s my wife' with a huge smile on his face.”

Yeah, I am. Almost.

You nearly swooned, giving your fiancé a glance as he set his chair by the fire pit. “And that’s my husband.”

Natasha lightheartedly rolled her eyes and nudged you. “Better go and join him then. The fireworks are going to start soon,” she said, heading to her seat beside Clint. The town was shooting off fireworks in the nearby park, but you all decided it was better to hang back. The yard was a great spot to view them and no one had to worry about the crowd.

“Be right there,” you said, shivering as a light breeze rolled in. Sam had the fire going, but you hadn't realized how chilly it was now that it was dark. Grabbing your blanket from your bag nearby, you also realized as you walked over to the gang that there wasn't a place for you to sit. Bucky looked your way with a gentle smile and patted his thigh before you could ask if there was an extra chair available inside. You caught a glimpse of heat in his eyes as you made your way closer.

You loved that look.

“Is that my seat?” You asked.

“This could be your seat.” Bucky pointed at his face as you bit your lip. If everyone wasn’t around, you’d consider it. “But this one might be more comfortable to watch the fireworks,” he added, patting his massive thigh again.

His face. His thigh. Both were incredible places to sit.

“Yeah, comfortable. That’s the word,” you teased, shrieking as he dragged you onto his lap once you were within reach. You were lucky you didn't spill your drink. “Easy, tiger.”

He growled and nuzzled your neck once you situated yourself and placed your drink the cup holder. “This tiger will also keep you warm,” he promised.

“Aww. You two are just the cutest,” Sam said, swigging his beer with a chuckle when Bucky huffed.

“Yeah, we are. And in case you forgot, my girl kicked your ass earlier. Beauty, brains, and brawn,” he boasted. You didn’t have to look back to see the smug smile on his face. “Proud of you.”

I will not get giddy or aroused from that praise.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll get you next time,” Sam scoffed, looking over at you with a smile to let you know it was in good fun. He was a good guy, like Steve. You hoped they each found someone who made them feel the way Bucky made you feel.

“Or she’ll kick your ass again,” Bucky said without skipping a beat.

Oh, boys. So endearing. So competitive.

“Enough of that. Sam, I’m pretty sure I got lucky and I’d love a rematch. Stud, you just concentrate on keeping me warm,” you teased, draping the blanket over both of you. His embrace was always warm. “Surprised we don't have s’mores.”

“Those are for after the fireworks,” Steve said from the other side of you.

You smiled over at him before tilting your head back to gaze at Bucky. You weren't sure if the guys did it on purpose, but they each wore the same tight fitting T-shirt in patriotic colors. They all looked handsome, but your man looked look sex on legs. The love of your life would always turn your head.

“Not for us,” Bucky said, placing a kiss on your shoulder as his hand rested possessively on your hip. “We’re going to bed.”

You giggled and snuggled back against him when the rest of the gang protested. “But what if I want a s'more?”

“I’ll personally make you one and feed it to you in bed,” he half growled.

“You’re really not going to stay up with us?” Steve asked, a knowing look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sure something will get up,” Natasha deadpanned, making everyone laugh. She wasn't wrong.

“On your birthday, we’ll stay up as late as you want. Tonight, we’re watching the fireworks and going to bed,” Bucky grumbled, brushing a finger over your engagement ring. “Unless you really want to stay out here.”

You giggled again. Bucky had to share your attention with everyone all day and was still sharing it now. He was more than ready to have you all to himself. You understood the feeling.

“I’m fine with going inside after the fireworks. We’ll check on the cats and then go to bed,” you assured him.

With everyone drinking, you all decided it was better to crash in the same place instead of going home. Neither of you wanted to leave Alpine or Soot at your place though in case any neighbors decided to shoot fireworks off the roof, so you brought them over. They had a space set up under the guest bed with some white noise to help block out some of the sound. Anything to help put them at ease.

Bucky tilted your chin a bit more to place a soft kiss on your lips, the tension crackling like the fireworks had already started. “Thank you, Smartie.”

“You’re welcome, Stud.”

As if on cue, the show began.

You looked up at the sky in awe as the first firework rushed into the air. An explosion followed by a vivid display of light, they were like rainbows in the night brightening the darkness with color. They were beauty and wonder, a form of art that faded almost as quickly as it was created. Watching with loved ones made it all the more special.

You tilted your head and smiled when you caught Bucky staring back at you. “Why aren't you looking at the sky?”

“Why aren't you?” He teased, bumping his nose against yours. “Besides, I don't need to watch the sky when I have the most beautiful view right here.”

Your cheeks warmed. So did your heart. “You flatter me so,” you whispered, looking back at the sky again.

Bangs, crackles, and thunderous sounds continued to fill the air with the gorgeous display. You couldn’t keep the smile off your face. You almost regretted not having your phone beside you so you could take some pictures.

Though you likely would’ve dropped it when you felt Bucky’s hand move from your hip to under your skirt.

“Stud?” You gasped, quickly looking around as his hand trailed up your thigh. No one was looking your way. They were too occupied with the fireworks.

“Just keep looking at the sky, Smartie,” he said against your ear, your legs opening more as his hand found its prize. “And I'll keep touching you.”

Oh, fuck.

You shivered in his grasp despite the blanket and his body providing more than enough heat. His touch was possessive yet tender and you could feel your body turn to jelly as he rubbed you through your panties. You tried to concentrate on the colors above you, the material damp from his expert touch. And you couldn't stop your heart from pounding in your ears, adding the explosive noises around you.

More fireworks went off, but you blocked out the “oohs” of your friends as he pushed the wet fabric aside. “Bucky,” you whimpered, biting your tongue when he traced a finger along your slick pussy.

“I’ve wanted to touch you all day,” he whispered against your neck, teasing your folds. Your hole clenched before the fingertip even touched it. “I can't believe you’re mine. Keep asking myself how I got so lucky.”

I’m the lucky one.

His finger breached you, making you gasp and grip his arm. His palm pressed against your clit and you couldn’t help but push your hips down, seeking out more friction. You wanted to take care of him, too. Maybe when the two of you went to bed…

Another finger slipped in, curling and thrusting quickly. If you were at home, he’d take more time in taking you apart. He wouldn't stop until you soaked the sheets and even then he might keep going. And he'd make sure you were a quivering mess, mewling and begging for mercy or reprieve.

“Have I told you today how much I love you, babydoll?” He asked, static pleasure coursing through your body as you climbed higher.

Orgasms were a lot like fireworks. Some tumbled slowly in the sky, like a slow fire that coursed through your veins. Others exploded, so large and powerful that you couldn’t keep the sounds of awe in. Then there were small bursts, the ones that got the job done and still felt good.

You wondered what kind of orgasm Bucky would give you tonight.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, colors dancing behind your eyes as you shut them.

You wanted to shout how much you loved Bucky Barnes. You wanted your love for him to burst through the sky like a shooting star. But you didn’t need to put on a show for him to know you were his. He knew you belonged to him.

But you’d still have to try and keep quiet as you clenched around his fingers.

“Please,” you whispered, ready to fall over the edge as his palm rubbed your clit again.

Your head turned and his mouth slanted against yours to swallow down your moan. “Open your eyes,” he whispered, his fingers curling once more as you listened to his command and watched the colors light up his blue eyes. “And come for me.”

Your walls pulsed as the finale began, your cry drowned out by the rapid booms. Your wetness coated his fingers, every nerve cell vibrating as brilliant hues illuminated the sky. The hues swirled in your dizzying head, too. You were flying. Sinking. Floating.

You were a firework.

“Beautiful,” Bucky whispered, guiding you back to him.

Your body stayed lax against his, wishing he didn't have to take his fingers out. “You’re beautiful,” you exhaled, watching him subtly bring his hand to his mouth to taste your release. “Menace,” you added.

This man. I really just let him finger bang me with everyone sitting around.

“Yeah, I am,” he smiled, placing another kiss on your lips as Steve and Sam got up. Natasha and Clint were already up, too, to get more drinks.

If anyone knew what happened, they didn't draw any attention to it.

“Those were even better than last year,” Sam said.

“They were. And now we can have s'mores,” the blonde smiled, stopping to look at his best friend. “I thought you two were going to bed.”

“In a minute,” Bucky said, shifting his hips under yours to let you feel how hard he was. Getting you off turned him on. “Think I need to relax a bit more.”

Yeah, so no one sees you walking around with a raging hard-on.

You wiggled your hips, smiling when your fiancé quietly groaned. “Yeah. Relax,” you sighed, feeling him squeeze your thigh in a warning.

Well, he wanted your attention before and now he had it.

And I’ll make him see fireworks before the night is over, too.

Stud and Smartie need to talk to my muse and make sure Steve has a good birthday. 🥰 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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seokgyuu · 4 months ago

Text

The Sweetest Thing

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.2k

a/n: and here it is!! my little box of filth. i wanna give a shoutout to @c-oupsie for hyping this up and telling me to keep going, ilysm!! and also @chwepen for beta-reading!! sending you smooches. <3 now everyone, please enjoy this sausage fest.

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee, @gyuhanniescarat, @branchrkive, @doublebunv, @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie

Smut Warnings: threesome, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey public sex, p in v sex, throat fucking, unprotected sex (be smarter than this pls!!!), degradation (usage of the words: whore, slut, filthy, stupid (only indirectly?)), praise, tit job, mc is described to have big tits, sunghoon can carry mc, manhandling, cum eating, cum play, shower sex, consensual sex taping, pls tell me if i missed any!!

Pastel colors are slowly but surely becoming your greatest enemy. You can’t count how many different patterns and matches you have seen on this day alone - and the preparations for this wedding have been going on for months.

In all honesty, you didn’t even want to be here. As pretty as Tuscany is - this is the last place you want to be at right now. You would rather sit at home and play a game, would rather sleep in and not have your mother be all over you, pressuring you to do better in a job you never wanted in the first place.

It is your sisters’ wedding. Yes, sisters’. They are both getting married at the same time, same place. Just the grooms are two different men (even though you wouldn’t put it past them to share a man for convenience). Men, you haven’t even met yet. Men, that your mother and sisters kept on swooning over. Look, it is no surprise your sisters got lucky in that department; They are extremely conventionally attractive and they love doing fun things like going out and spending money on things they really didn’t need.

You grew up with them being six and seven years older than you, making them already inseparable when your mum decided to push another one out. Getting along with them sure as hell wasn’t an easy task, in fact it still isn't. It’s pretty clear you only got the job as Linda’s maid of honor because your mother threatened her to do so. There was probably a very heated rock, paper, scissors round going on between your sister dearests to decide who got to have you.

And now you are here. In warm, beautiful Italy with yet another color scheme to look over and authorize. You surely didn’t sign up to suddenly become the wedding planner as well.

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks,” you say to one of the florists who are just now setting up the arrangements for the rehearsal dinner happening tonight.

It’s hot, so hot that you have to take shelter every ten minutes because of the fear of burning up. You don’t usually like to spend this much time outside - let alone in the scorching hot sun, so this is rather the change for you.

When the florists leave to get another load of flowers, you decide to take this as the next round of shade and air conditioning inside the resort your sisters have chosen for their special day.

It’s insanely beautiful. High ceilings, incredible murals on the wall, a big round table in the center of the entrance hall with a crystal vase on top, filled with flowers that would make the florist outside turn green in envy.

The air inside immediately cools you down and you take the moment to sit down in one of the arm chairs in the lobby to calm yourself. Only a week. That’s all you need to survive. A week with your sisters and their fiancés, soon to be husbands and your and their families. Guests would arrive the night before the wedding and as soon as the reception was over - you could finally leave and hopefully not see your sisters for another year or so.

“Ah, there you are.” You close your eyes for a second.

“Shouldn’t you be outside?” Linda and Liza are standing in the lobby in their designer sun dresses, very obviously judging you for not being where they want you to be.

“I just came in to escape the heat for a second, that’s all.” You explain as you open your eyes again. The two certainly don’t look happy. In fact, they roll their eyes and flick their perfect hair over their shoulders.

“Okay, well, time is up. If this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, it’s on you.”

“You don’t want us telling mum you don’t care about your big sisters, do you? She’d be so disappointed knowing you aren’t doing your job right.”

Your fists almost immediately ball into fists. How many times have they been like this over the three days you’ve already been here? You honestly lost count. One week. Just one week.

“I was just about to go back outside, don’t worry.”

Anger well hidden away, you stand up and present them with a fake smile, moving to go back outside.

“Oh and, Y/N?” Linda’s voice feels like a ray of ice hitting you, “try to look a little bit more presentable when talking to our staff. We don’t want them to think we can’t actually afford being here.”

Your sisters giggle happily all while you bite your tongue once more. One week. Stay calm. One. Week.

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days.

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them.

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive.

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand.

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours.

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up.

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?”

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs.

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice.

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit.

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart.

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.”

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words.

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both.

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them.

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The very small bathroom stall is crowded with three people, but you make it work.

Sunghoon is holding your head in place, his cock buried so deep down your throat he’s seeing red. You’re perfect. The sweetest thing on the outside, and a filthy little whore behind closed doors. You literally begged him to thrust down your throat without paying you any mind. You wanted, no, needed him to use your throat, to act like you were nothing but his little fuck toy. And, shit, he was more than happy to do exactly as you asked.

His hips are moving in rapid speed, his groans music to your ears. Drool is running down your chin and dripping onto your knees. He is not holding back, he is just doing whatever he wants with you and you are throbbing. Throbbing around Heeseungs fat cock that is fucking into you with no care in the world.

Heeseung is sitting on the toilet seat, his hands on your hips, cock rapidly leaving and entering your sopping hole. His head is literally spinning at how fucking good you feel. He bets you’d also sound fucking perfect if only Sunghoon’s cock wasn’t in the way. He can tell by the way you are already squeaking around his best friend’s cock, how your pussy is continuing to spasm around him after you already came on his cock once before.

“Take it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Heeseung breathes out, hips speeding up and your eyes roll back into your head, your body seemingly on fire. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this good by a strange or, in this case, two strangers. All you know is that you’ve already cum before and that Heeseung surely will get you over the edge another time. He’s thick and veiny and he fills you up so good there was nothing you could do but cum after only a minute of him fucking you like an animal.

“Shit, look at you,” Sunghoon groans, one hand now wrapping around your throat, his eyes glossy as he stares down at you, still fucking down your abused throat, “you’re a perfect little fucktoy, aren’t you? Enjoy being used by two cocks, huh? Fuuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fucking slut.”

Heesung feels you squeeze around his cock, feels the way you suck him in even deeper.

“This filthy little thing likes when you talk to her like that, Hoonie. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.” His head tips back and his mouth drops open as he focuses on his pleasure, already fantasizing about stuffing you with his cum. He moves his hands up, squeezing your perfect tits over your dress and you moan around Sunghoon’s cock, tears streaming down your face. Every touch, every thrust, every word is getting you closer to another high. With Heeseung’s hands on your breasts you can freely move your hips now, bouncing up and down on Heeseung’s cock, matching his thrusts perfectly.

There is no chance Sunghoon will last much longer. Your mouth, your throat - he’s scared he already developed an addiction to them. Maybe it’s the long time he hasn’t experienced anything like this, but right now it feels like no throat has ever taken his cock so well before.

“Where should I cum, huh? Down your throat? On your pretty face?” Sunghoon groans, his cock twitching over and over before he finally pulls out, jerking himself off so you can answer the question.

“Cum on her tits, look at those fucking perfect tits, bro.” Heeseung decides to answer for you and Sunghoon smirks as he watches Heeseung get your tits out of your dress for which you thankfully don’t need a bra. Your perfect tits bounce free now and Sunghoon nods, eyes glued to them and how they bounce now that Heeseung continues to fuck into you, your back now arched against him.

“Fucking hell, such fat fucking tits,” Sunghoon is in a trance, mouth dropped as he jerks himself off with the help off your spit and his precum.

“Tell him to cum on your tits, slut, come on, tell him how much you want his cum all over you,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his cock still continuing to ram into your g-spot like it has never done anything else.

You moan loudly, eyes flying open and Sunghoon almost doesn’t need you to say anything - your fucked out face could well be enough to make him cum.

“Pl-please g-give me your cum, want it a-all over my tits, pl-please, need it so bad!” You cry out and Sunghoon feels his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of cum landing on your tits and neck, some even on your lips that you hungrily lick off of them, only making another spurt come out of Sunghoons cock.

“Holy fucking hell, shit,” he groans, falling against the stall door, his chest heaving.

Heeseung, meanwhile, grabs your hair and tilts your head back as he does his final thrusts, filling your pussy with his seed, white making you feel warm inside and tipping you over the edge, milking him for all he has with your own orgasm, high pitched moans escaping you as your toes curl and your hands grip the material of your dress.

Once he’s done fucking both of you through your orgasms, Heeseung helps you up, his cock slipping out of you. You’re a little shaky on your legs and Sunghoon catches you before you can fall, his eyes immediately going to your tits that are covered in his cum. He licks his lips.

“If we had more time I’d take you to my room and fuck those tits until they are covered in even more layers of my cum, baby.” He mumbles, one finger scooping up some of his release and shoving his finger in your mouth, watching in awe how you eagerly suck it clean.

“Holy fuck, you’re perfect.” Heeseung has put his cock back into his pants, considering to get it back out just to have you lick it clean of your and his juices. He decides against it mainly because he knows there isn’t much time. He and Sunghoon have to get back to the hotel, their fiancés probably awaiting their return.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sunghoon says, but you shake your head, only putting your tits back into your dress and stepping back into your panties.

“I wanna keep it for a bit, keepsake if you will.”

Both men are silent. Where the fuck have you been before they got engaged to the sisters from hell? For a second they contemplate just keeping you. Using you for when their soon to be wives were being difficult again.

Obviously, though, this was just a fantasy not meant for reality.

Perhaps it’s well deserved. Having the worst morning all week, the day right after you fucked two strangers in a restaurant’s bathroom. Two engaged strangers. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t care about the blurred lines of their… relationship status, considering you’ve had quite a few hook-ups with married men who were out of town and needed someone to fulfill their needs while their perfect trophy wives were sitting at home waiting for them. Not the proudest thing you’ve done, but whatever gets you cumming.

Today, your sisters seem to have it out for you especially. You blame it on the nerves, after all their perfect fiancées are about to arrive today. Everything needs to be in order, their dresses, their hair, their nails, everything.

You’ve become their personal stylist, nail artist and hairdresser all for nothing more than a chuckle at the way your shirt rises up and shows your stomach that they love to comment on. It’s a win-win situation, for sure.

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake!” Liza screeches, pointing at her (to your eyes) perfectly drawn eyeliner. You blink at her and take a deep breath. Six days.

“I apologize.” Quickly, you move to fix your error, but your sister slaps your hand away and rips the pencil out of your hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself, like everything else, you useless piece of trash.”

Six. Days.

Since there is no point in responding to her, you only nod and turn to Linda who is currently checking herself out in her hand mirror.

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask, feeling ridiculous. One could think you’re their personal assistant and not their younger sister.

“Just get out, Heeseung and Sunghoon are about to arrive and I don’t want them seeing you first thing, imagine their shock.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon.

Something rings in your head. Had they ever mentioned their fiancés names before? Probably - why else would they be so familiar to you.

“Alright. I’ll be by the pool then.”

Neither of them deems it appropriate to even slightly acknowledge you before you leave the room.

A huge sigh leaves you the second you step out of Linda’s room and instead head for your own. Just a quick change into a bikini and down you go. A few hours in the sun, maybe a couple laps in the pool. Another bit of peace while your sisters are occupied. Sounds like the perfect morning to you.

Just that, when you reach your room and change into said bikini - you notice a bruise right above your hip. Your eyes widen at the sight, moving closer to the mirror to inspect it. There is no other possible reason but what happened last night.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking around your clothes for this one light pink scarf you could easily wrap around your hips as some sort of cover. The last thing you want is for your sisters to see this and ask questions. Bad enough you had the face and figure you had - imagine their outrage if one of these was even further damaged!

For as long as you can remember your sisters had been your biggest haters. No matter what you did, if you changed your hair or your wardrobe, they’d be mean to you about it. To them, you were nothing but an unwanted addition to a family they had deemed already perfect. Neither of them had ever wanted another sibling, especially not six and seven years apart from them. Suddenly, you were the center of attention, had your mother cradling you and loving you and not giving them the attention they were sure they deserved.

Even now, at their grown ages, about to get married, they couldn’t seem to get over it.

From an outsider's perspective their lives were fairly more successful than yours. With great jobs in high positions, a perfect routine that included gym visits four times a week, and of course their perfect soon-to-be husbands. If it weren’t so frustrating it might have been funny how they literally kept them from you - kept everything from you. Blocked you from their socials to not be associated with you, living in their own little bubble, acting like you didn’t exist.

So, expect your surprise when Linda called and asked you to be her maid of honor. You had only accepted because you know your mother would be devastated if you didn’t.

That all seems like an okay trade for the view of the hotel pool right by the beach, your body rubbed in sunscreen and your sunglasses on top of your nose listening to music and enjoying your moments without a sister (or mother) around to tell you what to do.

But your life wouldn’t be yours if your peace weren’t suddenly interrupted by the high pitched laugh of one of your sisters floating through the air and reaching your ears. It hadn’t even been half an hour. Maybe, you think, they won’t even come over. After all, they had hidden you away from them for as long as they had been together. Perhaps they wanted to wait til the day of the wedding next week to finally introduce you.

Curiosity gets the best of you at last. Who are these men they’ve been gatekeeping from you, who have been nothing but your mother’s pride? Slowly, you turn into the direction of the high pitched laugh, opening your eyes behind your sunglasses.

And the world around you seems to shake.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, moving quickly to get up. Panic arises within you, sheer ugly panic that has your body shaking. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening! You move to throw your phone and headphones onto the lounge chair, your eyes darting back and forth between here and your sister’s location, finally freeing yourself of all the things that can’t get wet to jump into the pool. It seemed like the only way not to get noticed by them.

There are several other people in the pool and the splash of you jumping in had been drowned out by the sound of a child laughing and screaming. You stay underwater for a good while, thanking your strong lungs, and only come back up when you feel like enough time has passed for them to have left - only to be met by absolute horror.

They had taken seats right next to your stuff. In their bathing suits from Chanel or Prada or whatever, they looked breathtaking. Not that they would ever get into the pool. It wasn’t them, though, who made your blood turn cold and the insides of your stomach threatening to say hello again - it was their fiancés.

Short dark hair, beautiful faces. One with a mole on his nose. The other with clear shock in his eyes.

The men from last night.

As if to remind you further, you feel the bruise on your hip suddenly starting to throb with pain. You wince and look down, noticing your make-shift cover up being gone. Wonderful.

Your sisters notice you now, their eyes widening when they see you in the state you’re in. Dripping with water, your hair pushed back out of your face, your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini. They had always envied you for your breasts - not that they would ever admit this. But seeing them right now made them even angrier, after all Heeseung and Sunghoon were right here and could see those monstrosities!

And yeah, they see. See your body in that bikini that is leaving nothing to the imagination. See your tits almost falling out of the bikini top - tits that were covered in Sunghoon's cum not even 24 hours ago. They see your pretty face, your long eyelashes, droplets of water sliding down your soft skin.

Heeseung and Sunghoon don’t realize the gravity of the situation yet, right now all they think about is how they’ve hit the jackpot because you’re in the same hotel as them. Right now, neither of them knows who you are besides the girl they’ve fucked the night before.

“Y/N!” Liza screeches, “get out of that pool right now, you look ridiculous!”

Linda gets up and grabs one of the towels next to her, throwing it into the Pool. She wants you to cover up, needs you to cover up.

It is then that Sunghoon and Heeseung slowly understand. Your name. They have heard that name before. Time and time again.

“Mum made me pick my ugly little sister as my maid of honor, Hoonie, can you believe her?”

“Ugh, Y/N, called today. Wanted to congratulate us. Can you believe her? I bet she is so jealous, Hee, she could never get a man to stay. She’s just… too…. ew.”

You’re their sister. Their little sister they have nothing good to say about.

You. The girl from last night. The girl who potentially could become the best fuck of both of their lives.

If they had been able to, they would have looked at each other. But they are too mesmerized by you getting out of the pool with the towel wrapped around your body, or at least around your upper half. They can still easily see your legs, your perfect thighs, the little bikini bottom that does almost nothing to cover up your ass, can see the bruise that is a clear indication of what happened last night. It’s safe to say they are both growing harder in their trunks. Relatively bad timing.

“Sorry, I told you I would be at the pool,” you mumble once you get out, grabbing for your stuff.

“I don’t think so, I would have remembered that!” Liza hisses, her arm sneaking around short hair. So, he must be Heeseung. Heeseung who had his cock buried inside of you mere hours ago and whose cum was most likely still inside of you.

“Just go back upstairs,” Linda shoos you away with her hand and you let your eyes wander to mole next to her. Sunghoon, then. Sunghoon who had been craving a mouth around his cock, Sunghoon who had his cock in your mouth, who had cum all over your exposed tits.

Your body heats up and you quickly turn around to leave.

“It was nice to meet you!” Sunghoon calls after you and you swallow hard, not turning back to them before you leave.

Dinner that night is horribly awkward, to say the least. The fact you’re even allowed to participate is insane. Your parents are delighted to welcome you once you sit down, your sisters and their fiancés showing up a little while after you.

As it turns out, the two men had insisted you’d join them for dinner. Judging by the way they look at you, you feel like they’d rather have you be their dinner.

Nothing could have prepared you for this. For the utter want you see in their faces, the utter want you feel in your bones. It makes all of dinner extremely awkward, makes you press your thighs together, shove around your food on the plate because suddenly your appetite is for something entirely different.

But you know you can’t. The first time, so you tell yourself, was fine because you didn’t know who they were. You even go as far as to blame your sisters for this, after all they had never bothered to show you what Heeseung and Sunghoon look like.

Now, it’s different. Now you know who they are. And as much as you despise your sister’s, you don’t think you could do this to them.

… Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Because the second you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and find yourself pressed against yet another stall door, you know you’ve been lying to yourself.

It’s Heeseung, his hands on your hips, digging into the bruise on your side, having you moan in no time.

“What are the fucking odds, hm?” He whispers, his breath hitting your face. You open your mouth to answer, but Heeseung dips forward, his tongue sliding into your open warmth, his lips pressing down on yours. It doesn’t matter what you thought of before, doesn’t matter who he is. Your body is taking over, melting against the strong man, against his chest and arms.

Heeseung kisses you hungrily, like he has been starving for days. He had wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you into the one bathroom stall for men, had claimed you as his for the next few minutes.

“We-we can’t!” You cry out, pushing him away, but Heeseung only grabs you harder, turning you around, your chest hitting the door and a gasp escaping your mouth.

“If we can’t, why are you so fucking wet, baby?” His fingers are inside your cunt the next second and your eyes roll back, hips already chasing his touch. He smirks behind you, shoving your dress up with his free hand. Your backside is a sight to behold and he licks over his lips before landing a slap to your right ass cheek. You squeak.

“I guess bathroom stalls are just our thing now, aren’t they?”

Just that this one is spacier. You’re pressed against the door that leads right into the open restaurant. You can hear the people outside, can hear the sound of cutlery meeting plates, of glasses clinking.

“Hee-Heeseung, yo-you’re my sister’s fiancé!” You tried again, even though your hips were already bouncing on his fingers. Heeseung chuckled lowly.

“Don’t tell me now you care about the fact I’m in a relationship. It seemed like yesterday you couldn’t wait to get this taken cock shoved into your pussy.”

He’s not wrong. You bite down on your lip and turn slightly, looking over your shoulder into his dark eyes. God, he’s beautiful.

“Please,” you pout then, and his smirk comes back, his nimble fingers freeing his rock hard cock. You lean back against the door, your cheek pressed against the cold wood, your hands on either side of your head. Your pussy is dripping down his fingers and once he removes them, you’re already impatient to feel his huge cock fill you up.

Wiggling your hips, he lands another slap on your ass before shoving his cock into you, both of you groaning once he bottoms out.

Then, he doesn’t show you any mercy. One of his hands sneaks around you, pressing down on your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucks you right into the door. He is panting, staring down at the way his cock slides in and out of you over and over again. His other hand fishes for his phone in his pocket, halting his thrusts for only a second to concentrate on opening the camera on the phone and hitting record.

“Need to bring Hoonie something to jerk off to later,” he grins as he continues to fuck you, your moans getting numbed only by his hand. He just feels too good. Feels like no other cock you’ve had before. He’s big, wide and so god damn veiny. Every vein seems to drag along your walls, seems to push you closer to the edge. Your eyes are rolling back as your ass bounces off his hips, as his thrusts become sloppier with every second. He needs to cum soon and so do you. There isn’t much time for this, no time in fact. But he’s been craving you, and so has Sunghoon. Thank all the luck in the world for him to have won that rock, paper, scissors round.

“God, you take it so well, you’re such a good little whore, aren’t you? All ready to go when I need to get my cock in you, fuck.”

Heeseung’s words make your pussy spasm around him, his next groan deeper than before. He changes the angle slightly, fucking into you faster and harder, his orgasm getting closer with every little squeeze of your pussy.

“Gonna cum so hard into your pussy, gonna have you sit at that table with my cum trickling into your panties.” He breathes into your ear and bites into your earlobe after, causing you to triple over the edge and cum hard around his cock - taking him right with you.

He curses as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, his cum filling you up, warming you from the inside.

Planting kisses on the back of your neck, Heeseung pulls out, watching his release drip out of you.

“I could get used to this,” he says and puts your panties back into its rightful place.

It doesn’t stop there. And it also doesn’t stop with Heeseung. But while Heeseung is more daring (coming to your hotel room at night, sending you pics of his dick after a shower, telling you to send him a voice note of you cumming), Sunghoon decided to take his time to make his move. You know it’s coming. You just don’t know when.

Heeseung is like a wild animal - he can’t get enough of you. He wants to have his hands on you, his dick in you and his cum all over you as many times as he can. But the week only has seven days, and you only have four more to go until this whole thing is over and they are married to your sisters.

Four days until you won’t be around them all the time, four days until Heeseung won’t be knocking on your door at two in the morning asking you to get on your knees. He fucks you like he owns you, like he knows your time is limited. It is, after all. He leaves marks where it is hard to spot them, kisses you in places no one has ever kissed before.

Yes, the nights with Heeseung are special and steamy and perfect - and yet you wonder where Sunghoon is in all of this. You see the way he looks at you, and you did get a dick pic from him the night you and Heeseung fucked at that first dinner, courtesy to him seeing the video Heeseung took of you. And that is the thing, Heeseung films you. He films you when you’re on top of him, when he’s behind you, when you got his cock down your throat, when you’re bouncing up and down his cock. All of it goes straight to Sunghoon, all of it leads to Sunghoon cumming all over himself in the bathroom and sending you a picture of it. He never leaves his room, though, never does anything about it.

It’s day minus three til the wedding and you’re at the beach with everyone. The other maid of honor has arrived, and so have the two best men. Jake and Jay, they had introduced themselves as and judging by the way they were looking at you… they knew exactly who you were. If you weren’t so busy with Heeseung, you’d gladly have slipped into one of their rooms at night.

You’re laying on your towel, happy to have everyone around you be busy with something that isn’t you. Your book is in your hands, the words getting more and more raunchy, your thighs pressing together. Perhaps this isn’t the best place to read smut, but it’s not like you have any control over when these scenes happen in the book. You just know every word hits you deep and has you biting down your lip. Even with the soreness still left between your legs from last night's visit, you feel yourself growing wetter with every sentence.

“In broad daylight, sweetheart, really?”

The voice makes you flinch, your book flipping closed as you turn around, spotting Sunghoon standing right above you. He is wearing a slight smirk on his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Not just because he caught you with your book but because he’s standing there in nothing but his trunks, a cup of iced coffee in his slim hand. His chest is defined, so are his abs. His arms look strong, toned, like they could throw you against a wall and hold you there. You swallow the lust that is daring to come up.

“What do you want?” You hiss, sitting up and looking at him.

He hasn’t really talked to you much. Too busy giving you looks and pretending like he didn’t when your sister or parents or any other already arrived wedding party approached him.

“What would I want?” Sunghoon asks back, tilting his head. The view he has from up here, your tits sitting in your bikini top, looking as delicious as they always did. It takes all in him not to drag you up and take you in front of everyone.

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

“Well, if there is nothing you want, you can leave me alone.”

He watches you, how you lay back on your stomach, how you open the book and look for the page you just read. Licking over his lips, he roams his eyes over you. At this point, he has lost count of how many times he’s looked at you. How many times he has waited in the bathroom at night for Heeseung to send the videos, the pictures. As much as he was jealous, he enjoyed looking at you as he used his lubed up hand to get himself off. Except… for the last two days. He hasn’t sent you a picture of him with his cum all over his torso or thighs for two days because he simply hadn’t let himself reach climax. He’s been edging himself for all this time, waiting for the right time to unload all of his seed… preferably on you.

It doesn’t feel like enough. Just getting to watch you through a screen, imagine what you would feel like. Your mouth, he remembers. Vividly. Your pussy… he can only wonder. Only guess when Heeseung sends him those videos or when he tells him before they head down to breakfast.

Letting his eyes wander over your frame, your neck and back, your hips and ass, your legs…

“Get up.” He says. You don’t move.

He growls.

“I said,” his voice is low and warmth gathers at your core, “get up.”

It is when you still don’t move, Sunghoon feels his patience run thin. He places his iced coffee on one of the tables next to the lounge chairs.

Then, he is quick to pull you up, both his hands on your hips, a yelp coming out of you as he skillfully gets you on your feet. You stare at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Oh… your mouth. He has to restrain himself - already half hard in his trunks. Sunghoon looks around, sees his fiancé in a conversation with your mother. An idea flashes before him and he smirks slightly, alarm bells ringing in your head. What is he planning?

Not even a second passes when he grabs his iced coffee and spills it all over himself.

“God, watch where you’re going!” He yells, making all of your family members and their friends look at you. This little shit.

Linda immediately jumps to her feet.

“Look what you’ve done!” She screeches and you press your lips together, acting the part of the guilt ridden sister.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You defend yourself, but your sister just shoots you a deadly gaze.

“My darling, are you alright?” She is looking at Sunghoon now at his coffee stained self. He shakes his head.

“I really wanted that coffee. And these are my favorite trunks,” he sighs, “come on, Y/N, you’re gonna get me a new coffee.”

“I can get you a new coffee, babe!” Linda tries, her fingers wrapping around Sunghoon’s arm. It fills you with a sense of triumph when he moves out of her grip.

“You didn’t do this, honey. She did. Go back to your lounging.” He says it to her, but looks at you. And, god, you don’t think you’ve ever been more aroused in your life.

It starts in the elevator up to his room. His hands are on your tits and your tongue is in his mouth. He groans when he feels you grabbing around his cock, hand swiftly inside his swimming trunks. There are no words being exchanged, only moans and sighs and gasps as he presses you against the wall, your kisses getting deeper and heavier by the second.

Sunghoon has never wanted anyone as much as you right now. His cock is begging to be freed, leaking into his trunks. His thoughts are spiraling, a part of him just wants to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side and just fuck you right here, no matter if someone could walk in at any second, the other wants to take his time, bring you to his room and explore every inch of you.

When the elevator stops at his floor, he drags you out, glad no one is around to see as he pushes you against the wall next to the now closing elevator doors, his hand immediately moving between your legs. He moans at the wetness already there. Well aware you haven’t been in the pool or the ocean today.

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking wet.” He mumbles against your lips, pulling them into yet another heated kiss just as his fingers slip underneath your swimming suit, making you whimper. Your hips roll against his hand and he bites down on your bottom lip, fingers getting closer to where you want them, need them, the most.

But he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room, getting the keycard out of the small pouch he had in the pockets of his trunks. You watch as he opens the door, watch as impatience and need radiate off him and another feeling of triumph, of confidence overcomes you. He is actively choosing you over your sister. He wants you not her.

Once you’re inside and the door is closed, you find yourself stuck between him and yet another wall, or in this case, door. His first mission is to get your tits out, his hands losing the strands of your top, the little fabric falling onto the floor a second later. He licks over his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of these, baby,” he whispers, “come on, get on your knees.”

You do as told instantly. Dropping to your knees, eyes focused on him and only him. On how he now shoves his trunks down slowly, his cock, hard and red at the tip, springing free for you to admire. Your pussy starts throbbing. How badly you want him inside you, how badly you want him to fill you up with his cum, joining Heeseung’s from last night.

“Open up, slut.” Again, you obey. Your mouth drops open, tongue sticks out and Sunghoon’s cock twitches at the sight. This is what he has been dreaming about. Your mouth around his cock, your perfect heavy tits naked and oh-so ready to be painted like that first night.

“Good girl, so, so obedient.” He moves closer, right hand around his cock as the left is leaned against the wall, helping him keep his balance. Slowly, he brings the tip of his cock to the tip of your tongue, watching as you lick over it immediately. His eyes don’t leave yours when he begins shoving it in, his chest heaving. There is a good chance he might not last long, but he won’t let you leave this room without his cock having been inside you and if that means going again right after his first or second load.

You take him like a pro. Feel him slide down your throat, hitting the back of it before going even deeper. You choke just slightly, breathing through your nose. He stops only when he is fully buried, his breath getting heavier with every passing moment.

“You take it so fucking well, what a good little whore.” Sweat is pooling at the top of his forehead, his knees about to give in. He begins to move his hips slowly at first, but when you tap his thigh, he takes it as a sign to go harder. And, shit, does he go harder. Throwing his head back as he brings both his hands to your head, holding it in place as he thrusts down your throat over and over again. His balls hit your chin whenever he moves to bury himself again, his moans and groans nothing but music to your ears.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” He groans in pleasure, pulling his cock out and the next thing you know there is cum all over you. Your tits are full with his seed, your neck, your chin, your face. You gasp slightly, staring at him with your lips swollen from the roughness of his movements. He breathes hard, hand around his cock to hold it steady as waves of his pleasure make more cum land on your tits.

“That’s right, look at you, fuck,” his eyes are glossy watching your tits covered in his cum, his cock not losing any of it’s hardnes even after the amount of cum he just left on you. It’s not hard to notice. Your fingers scoop up a bit of it, sucking them clean and not letting him out of your sight. Sunghoon feels like he might have reached heaven.

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he grumbles, pulling you up by your arms and crashing your lips against his again. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you down, watching your cum-covered tits bounce as you fall. You know what he wants and you slightly sit up, your elbows behind you, watching as he moves on top of you. His eyes are still so full of hunger, of need, of pure and hot lust.

His cock slides between your tits, his hands pushing them together around it. Then, he begins to thrust again. Just like he had wanted back at the restaurant. Fuck your tits covered in his cum, add a little more.

You feel like the luckiest woman on earth with him like this. Using you to get off, his cock fucking your tits like a madman, whimpers and moans and groans, his head thrown back as he enjoys the feeling. It is even better than his imagination. Every second feels like he’s gonna ascend any moment now. His skin is tingling with desire and he wonders if it’ll ever stop. Right now, he thinks, he could probably go on for hours, for days. Just you and him and your tits and your mouth and your pussy.

When he looks down again, sees the way you look at him, see the way his cock looks sandwiched between your breasts, Sunghoon can’t help but cum again, less than before but still enough to cover your chest and neck, adding even more paint to the already perfect canvas.

Exhaustion is starting to spread through his bones, but he’s ignoring it. Instead, he pulls you up with him again, kissing you hard, fingers now finally finding their way into your bottoms again. He shoves them inside you immediately.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, fingers gripping his strong shoulders as he places you on his lap, straddling him. He fucks you with his fingers, hard and fast. Your pussy squeezes them, your arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

“So, so wet. So fucking filthy with my cum all over you. Tell me, baby, are you a whore?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeak. He grins wickedly, adding a third finger to the two. You cry in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his long, perfect fingers.

“So eager to be called a whore. Fucking a taken man, two taken men. Your sister’s men. Aren’t you ashamed?” He breathes into you ear and you moan again, nails digging into his skin.

“N-No!” You answer and he laughs quietly, thumb now pressing down on your clit. You feel the first tears starting to pool in your eyes.

“Oh, but you should be. Such a dirty fucking whore, full of cum, getting her pussy fucked by her sister’s fiancés fingers,” He chuckles, “and soon his cock.”

You reach the edge just then. When he promises you his lengths, when he tells you how ashamed you should be. As if you don’t know. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculously hot.

He fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your mouth again, tongues slashing against each other in a heated fight. You need him to fuck you. Right now. And as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon picks you up, hands underneath your thighs, lips never leaving yours and brings you to the spacious bathroom.

First, he fucks you in front of the mirror. Makes you watch yourself, getting fucked like a cheap whore by his sister’s soon-to-be husband. He makes you lick his cum off his fingers, thrusts them as deep down your throat as his cock is penetrating you.

Your pussy might be the best he’s ever had. The second he was buried inside of you, he knew he was done for. Knew this couldn’t be the last time he did this. Every bit of you, he wanted for himself. He even thought about asking Heeseung to back off, which he knew his best friend never would. Not with you. Not when you were this perfect. Fulfilling their every need, letting them do with you whatever they wanted.

When he gets you in the shower, he washes the drying cum off of you softly. He’s still inside of you, his still not fully satisfied cock. You squeeze around him, throb around him. You need him to do more, he knows it as well as you. But he’s gentle. Uses a sponge to get every bit of his seed off your body, his lips kissing your cheeks, lips, nose, neck and breasts. It’s almost too soft for you.

This is supposed to be about nothing but sex. He is supposed to fuck you, call you names while you’re at it and then disregard you. Instead, he’s being gentle.

That is, until the door outside opens and your sister’s voice interrupts the softness. It makes room for yet another wicked grin and Sunghoon’s first thrust inside of you for minutes. Your hand flies to your mouth covering the pathetic whimper that would have come out. Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle.

“Hoonie? Are you in the shower?”

He begins to thrust again, his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as he gives you his fucking all. Your eyes roll back.

“Yes, darling. Your stupid sister managed to get me all sticky with that coffee!”

Your pussy fluttered at the words. He grinned wider.

“Oh, like it when I call you stupid?” He whispers into your ear, cock twitching rapidly as he bites into your neck, hips showing you absolutely no mercy.

“Ugh, I am so sorry about her! She’s not just a klutz, she’s also insanely dumb. I can’t wait to never see her again after this is done.”

Perhaps these words would have hurt you, if Sunghoon wasn’t railing you like the god he was. Every thrust was smooth and yet hard enough to make your toes curl. He made quick work to lift you up, your legs now wrapping around his middle as he continued to fuck into you, moaning into your neck to drown out the noise.

“Yeah, she is a real piece of work,” he finally replied, his eyes staring into yours as he smirked.

“No wonder she can’t get a boyfriend! Who would ever want to be with that?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, pressing his body closer to yours, kissing you again, his tongue licking sensually over your bottom lip. It makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Anyway, where did she go? I didn’t find her in her room.”

Sunghoon reluctantly parts from you.

“No clue. She got me a new coffee and stormed off like the big baby she is.”

He grabs your tits again, squeezing and massaging, nipple between forefinger and thumb, leaning down so he can put it in his mouth and suck and bite down, your hand on your mouth pressing down harder.

You explode around him. Squirt like a fucking porn-star, liquid shooting out of you and down his legs, mixing with the water of the shower. Sunghoon’s knees are once more about to give in. He moans against your lips, hoping Linda didn’t hear and at the same time also hoping she did. Your climax makes him cum for the third time that day, his hot semen filling your spent pussy, painting it white like the clouds.

“That, she is indeed,” Linda laughs, “anyway, we’re gonna go get dinner in the city, baby. I’ll be at Liza’s room, love you!”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer and Linda just leaves. You feel like no words were even needed to understand.

Once you’re sure Linda is gone for good, Sunghoon and you step out of the shower. It’s quiet between you, quiet and somewhat heavy. You don’t like it one bit. You’re quick to grab your bikini and put it back on, relieved to know you most likely won’t find your sisters back at the beach where you’re headed now.

You don’t turn around again when you leave the bathroom. And you also don’t expect Sunghoon to say anything. Still, when you open the door to leave, you feel just a tiny bit disappointed that he doesn’t hold you back.

How utterly pathetic of you.

Heeseung doesn’t come for you that night. You wonder if it’s because of Sunghoon and decide it most definitely is because of Sunghoon.

Yet, the slightly younger male doesn’t come to seek you out either.

Tonight, it’s just you.

And perhaps, you think, that’s just how it’s supposed to be.

to be continued...

header & divider credit to the wonderful @wongyuseokie <3

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targaryen-dynasty · 5 months ago

Text

VIOLENT DELIGHTS.

Aemond Targaryen x twin sister!Reader

"Being summoned to your brother's most recent council meeting as a means to intervene should the rising tensions between your brothers turn into a serious problem, you find another way to de-escalate the situation."

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dubios content, canon typical incest/targcest (twins), p in v, fingering, table sex, semi public sex, high valyrian, female reader (described with valyrian attributes)

WORDS: 2.3 K

NOTES: First day of PTO and your girl is spending it wise! 💅 Watch me being utterly distressed by episode four but giving you all some delicious smut to make up for it. This is not beta read!

You should have grown suspicious when you’ve been called as cupbearer for Aegon’s most recent small council by your mother, attending it in the background while she can not. It’s clear you’ve been summoned by her to be a means to de-escalate should it be necessary, for even a fool could notice that the tension between your brothers is high, teetering on the edge to turn into a serious problem.

And it’s almost your turn to intervene when your twin brother decides to best your older brother, humiliating him in a language none of the other members of the Small Council understand.

A clearly struck Aegon strides out of the chambers in the following, his councilmen quickly filing out as well, leaving just you and your twin. He leans forward, running his nail across the stone in what appears to be deep contemplation.

You step out of the shadows, the chalice filled with Arbor Red placed on the table. “Ziry gōntan daor hae bona, ao gīmigon,” you speak first, breaking the thick silence. He did not like that, you know.

He lets out a sigh, his sharp gaze flickering from his hand up to you. “Well, he never does. He’s weak. Incapable,” he replies, purposely speaking in the Common Tongue. “A coward, really. Bisa iksis vīlībāzma, daor iā tymptir. Emi naejot act adere lo jaeli naejot ērinagon.” This is war, not a game. We have to act quickly if we want to win.

“Kessa, bisa iksis vīlībāzma,” you say, approaching him with your arms crossed and a roll of your eyes before leaning against the table. The tip of your tongue presses against the inside of your cheek as you contemplate your next words. “But Aegon is still the King, and you will need to tread more carefully. It does put neither of you in a good light.“ Yes, this is war.

The way he studies you so carefully would make any other person crumble, but not you, you‘ve shared a womb, and his cruelty and snideness is not reserved for you. Usually.

“What would a woman such as yourself know of war and politics? You speak with the naivety of a child. You might have claimed the Bronze Fury, but that does not make up for your lack of true war experience.“

An eyebrow raises in response to his condescending tone. You look back at him confidently, challenging, and don‘t hesitate to speak your mind. “Oh? I could say the exact same thing about you, brother. Vhagar has helped conquer Westeros, but that does not make you Visenya come again. And just because I do not revel in war and politics does not mean I do not understand them.”

The way he sets his jaw is subtle, barely noticeable, but makes you well aware that you‘re playing with fire, and when there doesn‘t come an answer, you can‘t help but stoke the flame.

Running your fingers along the stoney surface, you allow your eyes to follow them, not daring to meet his gaze as you poke his soft spot. “You have been awfully insufferable lately, brother. Ever since you… killed the little Lord Strong that is.“

With his smirk beginning to falter, Aemond rises from his seat, towering over you. Both his hands grip the edges of the table, capturing you between it and his firm body. “Watch your tongue, idaña,“ he snarls through gritted teeth. “You speak of things you don’t understand.“ Twin.

You don’t back down. Letting out a scoff, you hold your chin high as you lock your gazes, looking at him defiantly. “No? Then, by all means, enlighten me, oh mighty war scholar. Teach me the tales you have learned while I stayed cooped up in the castle. Tell me all about your brilliant plans for war you have hatched with Ser Criston Cole behind our King‘s back.“

Aemond reaches to brush your hair from your shoulder, fingers ghosting along the warm skin of your neck, making a shiver run down your spine. Where annoyance has danced in his eye before, there‘s now something else simmering right beneath the surface.

“Insolent, spoiled, naïve and ignorant,“ he hums, breath fanning over your skin as his eye roams over your face. “Do you know how badly I wish to shut that mouth of yours?“

Not the least bit impressed, a scoff leaves your lips. Your heartbeat, however, betrays your stern facade, all but hammering inside your chest. “You could try,” you challenge, voice smooth as silk but eyes filled with a dangerous spark. “What, with that silver tongue of yours?”

In one quick, unexpected movement, Aemond has his hands on your waist and hoists you up, not-so-gently splaying your body out over the table. With his body looming over yours, one hand pins you to the table at your hip, while the other grabs your jaw, forcing you to withstand his burning gaze. “I have something far, far more effective in mind.”

You’re suddenly unable to bite back the sharp intake of breath that escapes your throat as everything changes in a split second. Heat rushes through your body, and without thinking, your legs part, welcoming his body in between them. Your mouth is dry, but you try to keep a level head. “Do you truly think yourself capable of shutting me up?”

“Yes, I do… but perhaps I prefer you this way. My sweet, defiant sister who always needs to run her lovely, impudent mouth.”

Wetting your lips, you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes. The grip on your jaw is firm yet gentle, his fingers digging into your flesh. A faint tremor runs through your thighs at the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours, the hardness of his cock not hidden by the sturdy fabric of his breeches.

Despite being pinned to the table by him, you scramble to reach some of his coat, fisting it tightly to pull him onto your body and capture his lips in a heated kiss. Albeit grunting, Aemond’s body responds instinctively at the action, putting his weight onto yours, his hips grinding leisurely against yours.

He lets out a low groan, and the hand that has rested on your hip greedily tugs on the skirt of your dress, pulling it up enough to grant him access to what lays between your thighs. Swallowing every sound that may spill past your lips, his tongue delves deeper into your mouth in a demanding, possessive kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close as his one hand makes quick work of your smallclothes, the seams too easily giving in with the sheer force he uses to yank them off of your body.

Gasping for air as you pull away from him, you lick your kiss swollen lips. “What if anyone sees us?”

Aemond grins, his lips trailing a hot path down your throat. “Ivestragī zirȳ,” he breathes. His hand slips between your legs, dragging through your soaked folds before he eases two digits inside, chuckling when you clench around him. Entangling his other hand in your silver curls, he pulls on it slightly to tug your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry kisses. “Ivestragī zirȳ ūndegon skorkydoso jorrāelagon iksā syt nyke.” Let them. Let them see how desperate you are for me.

That’s all the conviction you need, not that you’d do anything for him anyways at this point, being putty in his hands already.

Responding to his touch, your body shudders and arches against him, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as his fingers push in and out of you, brushing your sweet spot. But he’s not having any of it. Aemond’s hand leaves your hair and captures your jaw again, fingers digging into your cheeks. “Jurnegon rȳ nyke. Jaelan naejot ūndegon aōha laehurlion skori nyke renigon ao.” Look at me. I want to see your face when I touch you.

You stare up at him with wide, dark-blown eyes, gripping his shoulders tightly to keep yourself grounded. “Iksā iā mittys,” you gasp, yet there is no ill intent behind these words. You are a fool.

The heat emanating from him is maddening, causing your whole body to tense and your peak approach you so abruptly. But Aemond would not be your twin, if he didn’t know you better than anyone else, and just moments before you’re toppling over the edge, he withdraws his fingers from you, tsking.

“You weren’t just peaking, were you?” he teases, taking his hand off of your jaw.

You pout at the sudden loss and the pleasure slowly but surely fading away again, leaving you aground and full of conviction he’s just riled you up for his own sake of enjoyment.

You’re positively surprised when you follow his hand down between your bodies, joining his other to swiftly undo the laces in front of his breeches and the last buckle of his coat.

“I shall not waste the first time you peak for me with my fingers,” he grunts, placing one hand on the stoney surface of the table, propping himself up, as the other aligns his hard cock with your cunt, forcing himself inside in one, swift thrust. It’s an instinctive mechanism as you wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to keep him close.

The intrusion has you both groaning; you, because of the delicious sting that comes with accommodating his size, and he, because he has barely filled you up and you’re already squeezing the life out of him.

“Gods, no,” Aemond pants, taking a moment once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. “You will wet my cock when you peak, is that understood?”

It’s almost pathetic how eagerly you nod your head at that, causing your twin to scoff.

Despite this being the first time you lay with him, neither of you lacks experience. The pace he sets up is merciless, and reasonable for the both of you, bringing you quick to something you’ve craved for so long.

Aemond’s cock hits the spot inside of you that makes your jaw slacken over and over again, bringing you closer to completion. He bows forwards, capturing your lips again. The kiss is passionate, all teeth and all tongue, and full of unsaid words and hidden actions.

Where previously the voices of the councilmen advising the king on their plans for war have bounced off the walls, there now are the sounds of skin slapping skin and wanton moans and groans, filling the otherwise quiet and empty chamber. Neither of you cares if your little act can be heard outside of these thick doors – with the realm being in a state of uproar anyways, there surely are more important matters that keep the keep’s residents occupied.

With the hem of his tunic rubbing so perfectly against your sensitive pearl each time his hips meet yours, you can feel the pressure inside of you returning, making you even more desperate for relief.

Your hips start to rut against his in a haze, chasing the hope of completion. You swallow each other’s sounds of pleasure, greedily drinking down everything the other has to offer without daring to tear away from each other. So much for him wanting to watch you fall apart.

As the pleasure soars through your body, your thighs lock around his hips, making it impossible for him to keep up his reckless pace. But there is no need for that anyways, for you can feel your peak’s contractions practically forcing the seed out of his cock. Your convulsing walls milk him for every drop of his spill, coating your insides.

It’s when the liquid fire inside of your veins subsides that you pull away from each other, allowing you to fill your lungs with air again. He leans his forehead against yours, still looming over your frame. Gathering his own bearings, he’s closed his good eye, trying to steady his labored breathing.

Lust still lingers thick in the air, hence he’s not pulling out of you even after his cock has grown flaccid again. Instead, he enjoys the proximity, the feigned moment of calmness, as if there isn’t a war raging right outside of this very keep.

While he presses gentle kisses to the faint marks he’s left on your cheeks and jaw, “Nevertheless, my opinion has not changed, brother,” you mumble in between heavy breaths, a tinge of teasing in your tone.

Aemond chuckles, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, of course not,” he says, voice thick from your previous activities. He moves with slow, languid movements, rolling his hips against yours. It’s enough for some sense of overstimulation kicking in, yet you can’t squirm away from him. He bows his head down, bringing his lips on a level with your ear. “But there still is some time for me to change your mind before I have to sit on dragon back.”

Bringing your hands to his shoulders again, you arch against him. “Gaomagon daor pendagon sīr eglie hen aōla, lēkia,” you tease. Do not think so highly of yourself, brother.

“Nyke pendagon hen nykēla vok.” I think of myself quite appropriately.

It’s a back and forth between you for as long as it takes, and even then, your twin’s diligence has not been able to surpass your stubbornness. But perhaps that is not what you both want anyways?

Only when it’s time for him to set off to the Riverlands, mounting his dragon to support your brother’s forces, do you two part – but not without the promise of him living up to his words once he returns, determined to make himself at home between your legs once more.

Aemond Taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu

@legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh

@mfedits @luvdella @jays-bullshit @justarandomgal

@decaffeinatedparadisepost @gelacat0413 @dracaryxzs

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peachysunrize · 4 months ago

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Victory ⥃ boxer!Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after his match, you find him in the locker room and decide to tend to him yourself. Rest assured, the rush of adrenaline in his blood leads to you rewarding him for winning the game.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, porn without plot, breeding, no prep, boxer aemond, bruise & wounds & blood, dirty talk, tell me if I’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: based on this thot I got yesterday! Anon, if you see this, you made my day with this very very insane ask and I hope this does your thot justice🤭 beta-read by beloved @namelesslosers <3 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!

You used to hate it at first when you started dating. All the bruises and wounds made your heart clench so hard that you cried for him every day while tending to him.

But now? You have toughened up, and Aemond has gotten better, much better in fact, that he’s now fighting for the semi-final of the season against Cregan Stark.

You remember how he’s always hard on himself when he focuses on a goal he sets, and the past few months have been pretty rough on both of you. However hard to maintain and deal with, you can’t deny how hot it was to have your boyfriend all sweaty and topless throwing punches at his coach, groaning and yelling with each movement.

You watch his platinum hair swing with each punch and dodge in his ponytail, his long limbs harshly knocking his opponent down on the ground. You stand beside Criston, fingers fiddling with the necklace Aemond had given you as a promise of his undying love while he risks his life in the ring.

Cregan, the bulky man he is, launches at Aemond, punching him right in his nose. You can hear the groan of pain that leaves your boyfriend’s lips, but soon, he has cornered Cregan, his fists coming down on his opponent’s face at a fast pace that knocks the poor guy out in less than a minute.

The fight has ended, and your Aemond stands with the judge holding his arm up as the winner, winking at you as the blood drips from his nose and lips, his remaining good eye shining with pride.

He truly makes a sight for sore eyes; silver hair unruly from all the jumping, abs covered in a thin layer of sweat, a very smug smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. The thought of this man being yours makes you desire him even more.

You clap for him, screaming and rooting with Criston and his family from the audience until they lead him to his locker room to tend to him. You follow them closely, finding Aemond sitting on one of the benches with a fresh towel thrown over his shoulders as he takes a swig from the bottle with an open mouth, water dripping on his chin and chest, creating an even more lewd sight for you to devour.

“Leave us please, thank you,” Aemond says, beckoning for you to get closer as soon as his team empties the room for the two of you.

“Congratulations on your victory, Mr. Targaryen,” you say, stepping towards him slowly, sultry, reaching to caress his angular jawline as he spreads his thighs for you, making room to stand before him.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he replies, dropping his bottle on the floor before his gloves and hands make a home on your thighs, slowly caressing the flesh, nodding when you show him the kit his doctor has laid next to him to tend to his wounds.

He visibly relaxes under your touch, wincing and exhaling sharply as you slowly clean the blood off of him, one hand holding his face straight gently while the other dabs a wet clean cloth with betadine around the open wounds. He is gazing up at you through his long light lashes, his thin lips curled into a smirk as he basks in your warm and welcoming touch.

You press a kiss to his forehead, grimacing when your eyes fall on the bruises on his nose and close to his good eye, shaking your head in disapproval. You know there won’t be a change, but you will tell him silently that you don’t wish to see him hurt, that he should care more about his health rather than these games that put his life in dear danger.

You help him pull his hands out of the boxing gloves, the fabric of the gloves torn and your boyfriend’s knuckles are bloody and bruised as well. Sighing softly, you grab his hand, bringing it to your mouth before pressing gentle kisses over the wounds.

He hums softly, his free hand coming back to rest on your thigh, observing you closely as you lean down again to clean his face, wiping the remaining sweat and blood off his skin. His fingers trace shapes on the curve of your ass, long digits praising you wordlessly on your choice of wearing a dress, making it much easier for him to ogle at you.

You can feel the path his eye takes when he lifts the hem of your dress a little, humming with every inch of your skin that comes into his view. You grip his jaw tighter, forcing him to look up at you.

“I have a pretty face, you should keep your eyes on that and your hands to yourself,” you whisper, leaning down to press a warm kiss on the bruise on his nose, “maybe I’ll take pity on you later when we get home.”

“You do have a pretty face, sweetheart,” he says, staring at you with his hooded eye, hands creeping up to your buttocks, “but I need more than just that. Maybe you can offer me your pretty cunt as a reward? I won the game, I deserve it.”

“You need to stay still and stop talking,” you giggle when he pinches your flesh playfully, pulling you even closer to have a better view of your teats in front of his face, “I won’t give you a reward for not getting yourself killed.”

“Oh, come on—” With a tight grip on your waist, he pulls you down on his lap, forcing you to straddle him with your legs on each side of his thighs. You squeal, arms coming down to wrap themselves around his broad shoulders, “stop playing coy with me. I saw you rubbing these pretty thighs together when I had Stark on the mat, punching him in the guy. I’m more observant than you think.”

“Are you now?” You hum when you feel the subtle bulge in his shorts, “so observant, so strong,” you mumble against his cheek, starting kissing his jaw down to his ear, letting him grind your hips down against his growing desire.

“Hmm, baby, I need you,” he tilts his head, giving you more space to prep his neck with kisses, licking a drop of sweat from his throat to the side of his jaw, sinking your teeth into his skin slightly before he grows impatient and cups your cheek and guides your lips to his, his mouth claiming yours in a deep passionate kiss.

Your tongue moves along his, fighting for dominance which you lose pretty quickly. You reach around his head to pull the hair tie off, letting his silver locks fall freely on his shoulders while he kisses you for a long hot minute, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Let me take care of you, my victorious man,” you mutter against his lips as the two of you breathe the little air between your faces, your clothed pussy rubbing against the rough fabric of his shorts with each move.

He groans against you, his restrain running thin with each second that you spend on marking his already marked neck, hips snapping up into you desperately. But he is not known for his patience, nor his temperament, so when he grabs your face, his bruised fingers digging into your cheeks, you know what is about to come.

“Be a good girl and take out my cock, I can’t wait any longer for you to be gentle with me,” he growls against your lips, his fingers pushing your panties to the side, “I won’t consider myself a winner if I don’t make you come on my cock at least two times.”

You whimper pathetically, reaching inside his boxer shorts to pull out his already leaking shaft, stroking him to full hardness. He is twitching in your palm, his heat and girth make your mouth water, and the way his fingers caress your inner thighs only urge you to guide him closer to you.

Holding yourself up a bit with your knees on the bench he’s sitting on, your lips meet his in a messy kiss as you sit on his cock slowly, feeling the beat of his heart against yours with how hard adrenaline is pumping through his veins.

His cockhead breaches your wet entrance, making the two of you gasp and whine as your warm walls envelop him slowly with every inch of him you take inside you.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he says with a raspy chuckle, his large hands covering your ass completely as he helps you sheath his cock deep inside you fully, “prettiest girl with the prettiest cunt, now ride me, baby. Make a winner out of me.”

Your brain is already mush, you nod at him, hands bracing themselves against his shoulders as you roll your hips to his liking, skin melting against the skin with each move and grind.

He reaches to pull down the neckline of your dress, leaning down to litter butterfly kisses all over the top of your breasts while he helps you move up and down his cock quicker.

You know what he wants, what he needs, so with one tug, your teats are free from the confine of your bra, and Aemond latches onto your nipple like a starved baby needing to be fed — although he is anything but a baby with how roughly he bites and sucks on your bud, blowing air on the wet flesh that has you shivering and moaning out his name in pleasure.

Matching your enthusiasm, Aemond plants his feet on the ground, snapping his hips up into yours at a wild pace, fucking your heavenly cunt at a brutal pace that has you biting his shoulders to muffle your cries of euphoria.

His nails dig into your flesh while his bruised and bloodied face searches yours for his tongue to lick its way into your mouth. Aemond keeps up his fast pace, pistoning his cock into you with abandon as he bites your bottom lip and sucks on your tongue.

Your release is swift and smooth and world-shattering — your vision goes white for a second when the tip of his dick jackhammers your sweet spot for a good minute. Gushing around his girth, you moan into his mouth as your wetness drips out of you with each rough thrust.

Aemond somehow fastens his movements, driving his cock up into your soaked pussy quicker, deeper, and rougher if possible, chasing his sweet release. His breaking point is when you whisper in his ear about how sexy he looked when he was beating Cregan to the pulp, how you wish he would manhandle you on his bed and fucking you like you mean nothing to him.

He comes harder than ever with a loud groan of your name, hands clamping hard on your waist that you are sure there’ll be bruises that match his in a few hours. He fills you with his hot cum to the brim, his cock twitching deep within your core as he gives you all he has.

Breathless but not done, he kisses the corner of your mouth and whispers, “What a good fucking girl for me. Now, you need to give me the other half of my prize.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #boxer!aemond targaryen #rue:smut #pwp

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kwanisms · 6 months ago

Text

Sweet Temptations — p.seonghwa

» ateez masterlist | seonghwa masterlist «

➮ florist!Seonghwa × fem!Reader wc: 22.1k (sorry lmao) summary: Y/N favorite part of working at the Sweet Temptations Cafe is the view of the gorgeous flower shop across the street and the handsome and kind florist who comes in every morning at 7 am on the dot. genres/themes/au: smut; flower love language, strangers to lovers; non idol au, florist au, barista au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, flirty Seonghwa, also Seonghwa being a menace, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

join my taglist! MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: this is my submission for the @cultofdionysus Spring event, The Language of Flowers. I have no excuse for the word count lmao just enjoy it. I’m probably going to stick to posting longer oneshots because I enjoy world building. Thank you so much @cheolism for beta-reading this for me ꒰｡•◡•｡꒱ thank you to everyone who reads this and if you reblog it, just know I’m tucking you into bed and kissing ur forehead 😘 as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

smut warnings: male masturbation, corruption kink, unprotected sex (wrap that shit), oral (m receiving, f receiving), mild facefucking (f receiving), dirty talk, praise (f receiving), finger sucking, spitting, choking (f receiving), marking/biting (f receiving), semi public sex, rough sex, hair pulling (m receiving), mild breeding kink, use of pet names (baeknari/lily, petal, blossom, sweetheart, kitten, etc.), dom!Seonghwa, sub!Reader, and I think that’s it but I could have missed some lol

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Park Seonghwa was a simple man, known for three things: his love for coffee, his punctuality, and his affinity for flowers.

It had never been his intention to open a flower shop but somehow it had happened. When he was a child, his father had loved gardening, as had his mother. From a young age Seonghwa had learned the language of flowers, particularly of those in his parents’ garden. Along with his exceedingly good looks, his knowledge of flowers ended up helping him score points with the girls in his class.

As a teenager, Seonghwa wanted to be an athlete, particularly in volleyball, having lost his love for flowers and their secret language. He'd intended to make that his career but after the untimely death of his grandmother, Seonghwa rediscovered a passion and love for flowers. He changed his major from sports to business administration and upon graduating with a degree, he set out to start a business.

Four years had passed since he opened his flower shop, The Flower Guy, and he was surprised by the overwhelmingly positive response from the town. Business had been booming ever since he opened his shop and it didn’t die down. He’d built up a steady clientele, from other businesses to wedding planners.

He’d been able to turn it into his livelihood and couldn’t be happier with the decisions that led him to where he was now, even as he swept the floor of the shop, pushing the dirt into the waiting dustpan.

The sun was setting over the town square, basking the buildings in its dying golden glow. With a stretch and a sigh, Seonghwa checked the time on his watch before walking over, turning the lock on the door, and flipping off the switch for the open sign. He went back to his sweeping, brushing all the dirt and debris from the stone tile into the dustpan before picking it up and making his way to the back of his shop to deposit the dirt.

He checked the door leading to the narrow alley behind his shop, making sure the lock was secure — although if anyone did manage to break in, the most they would find were some flowers and maybe some gardening tools. Seonghwa was a smart man and always made sure to empty the register and do his accounting at the end of each day, taking everything home to put in his safe there. The safe in the shop was for show and only kept papers inside.

After putting away the broom and dustpan, he set to work mopping the tiles from the door to the back before putting the microfiber mop away. He then set to work, misting all the flowers in the back room. After he grabbed the till from the register, moving back to the office to start the process of closing up and counting the profits of the day.

You flipped the sign from opened to closed and let out a yawn. The square outside was almost deserted, only a few people still outside, enjoying the nice weather of the day.

“Y/N, could you wipe down the tables and counter for me?” you heard from behind you and turned to find your manager, Addie, already starting to mop.

Without a word, you headed through the shop, ducking behind the counter to grab a clean rag and the bucket of soapy disinfectant water. You grabbed a pair of gloves, pulling them on before heading out to start wiping the tables down and cleaning them up. You worked in silence, the soft piano tones of the overhead speakers playing on low volume.

The cafe wasn’t very big, and the tables weren’t exceptionally dirty, so it didn’t take you any longer than usual to wipe all of them down. You were wiping down the counter, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn spot of spilled coffee you must have missed earlier in the day when Addie returned, opening the drawer of the first register and starting to read the card slips, inputting any of the tips that hadn’t been put into the computer.

Once done, she pulled out the money and added it to the jar you kept on the counter by the register for tips before moving to the other register and repeating the process. It had just been the two of you working the front end and one person, Lin, in the kitchen.

Wednesdays weren’t a particularly busy day for the cafe and the amount of work you had closing reflected that. Addie went to the back to do the daily accounting while you checked on Lin in the kitchen, offering them your help. Once you were both done, you announced your departure to Addie who wished you both a good night.

Outside, you said goodbye to your coworker and noticed the door of the flower shop opening. The florist was exiting, shutting the door behind him and locking it with his key which he returned to his pocket. He turned and froze, noticing you watching him.

“Good evening,” you said as he started forward again, closing the distance between you.

“Evening, baeknari,” he said, a smile on his face as he reached you, matching your pace as you started to walk alongside him.

‘That nickname again,’ you thought to yourself, a smile threatening to spread across your lips.

You remembered when you’d asked him what it meant and he told you that in Korean it meant white lily. For some reason, him calling you ‘white lily’ made you giddy.

“Busy today?” you asked, keeping your hands tucked in your pockets.

“Not terribly,” he replied, his own hands tucked in his coat pockets. “Mainly just people coming to buy flowers for their partners. Got a couple events booked next week,” he added.

“Do you book a lot of events?” you asked as the two of you walked towards the main street.

“A fair few.Mostly birthdays and the odd anniversary,” he explained. “The floral arrangements for those are always easy.”

You smiled as you glanced up at him.

Ever since you’d first met Seonghwa, there was something about him that drew you to him. Maybe it was his passion for his craft, his sense of humor, or maybe his incredibly good looks. Regardless, you had been intrigued immediately and were interested in getting to know him on a more personal level.

You knew almost next to nothing about the man other than he liked banana nut muffins, caramel macchiatos with white chocolate sauce, and flowers. You could pick out other little facts based on your short interactions with him. He dressed like a model, wearing clothes that probably cost more than you were willing to spend. Then again, he could probably make anything he wore look expensive.

He also smelled amazing, like warm vanilla and cinnamon.

Not that you took to smelling him often. The scent just permeated the air around him; not in a way that had you coughing or gagging, though. He reeked of expensive taste and oozed a confidence and charisma that you could only dream of possessing.

“What are the hardest events?” you asked, looking up at him. The two of you stopped at the main thoroughfare and Seonghwa turned to look at you, fixing you with his dark brown eyes. He hesitated a moment before answering your question.

“Weddings,” he said honestly. “I love booking weddings because I can make a lot of money doing floral arrangements for an entire venue but there’s the…” he trailed off, glancing away and across the street. You took a step forward, not realizing it until he looked back down at you and was considerably closer.

That was the thing about Seonghwa, he had this innate ability to draw people into him, figuratively and literally. He was alluring and magnanimous. He always managed to invade your thoughts and made you want more of him, whether that be through conversation or something more intimate —

‘Get it together, Y/N. You’re in public!’

“The what?” you asked softly. Seonghwa chuckled lightly before answering.

“The brides,” he replied. Your brows knitted together, confusion taking over your features.

“The brides?” you asked. “What’s wrong with the brides?”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Nothing, inherently. It’s just some of them.”

You nodded, understanding instantly.

“Ah,” you replied, fighting the urge to smirk. “Bridezillas.”

He nodded, eyes scanning your face as you glanced at a passing couple with a dog, a smile crossing your face. One of your favorite things about this town was all the dog owners. You loved dogs.

‘Distracted much?’

You turned back to Seonghwa. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The bridezillas.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was cut short by the shrill sound of a ringing phone. Seonghwa sighed heavily and rolled his eyes, holding up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said, fishing his phone from his pocket, and checked the screen.

Whoever was on the other end he must not have wanted to talk to, because he groaned and rolled his eyes yet again. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, looking up at you. “I have to take this and if I know this person, they’re going to talk and talk and talk. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You nodded as he started to back away, his phone still ringing. “Have a good night!” you called as he answered the phone.

“You, too!” he said before turning away and starting to walk in the direction of his home, leaving you to turn and walk the opposite direction.

“This had better be good, Joong,” Seonghwa snapped. “I was in the middle of a conversation with —”

“With Cafe Girl?”

Seonghwa sighed, coming to a halt and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“Yes. And for the last time, her name is Y/N.”

Hongjoong chuckled on the other end. “Yeah, her. Have you asked her out yet?”

Seonghwa continued walking, switching his phone to the other side. “No,” he answered. “Not yet.”

Hongjoong booed him and Seonghwa clenched his jaw as he walked through the few pedestrians on the sidewalk, making his way to his apartment. “You’re never gonna get in her bed if you don’t ask her out.”

Seonghwa could have strangled his friend.

“Is there a point to your call?” Seonghwa asked as he approached the door to his building.

“Oh, right! I have this thing,” Hongjoong started. “An event.”

Seonghwa snorted as he typed the code in to get into his building. “You have an event?” he asked incredulously as he walked across the lobby, nodding at one of his neighbors picking up their mail as he stopped by his mailbox to retrieve his.

“Yes,” Hongjoong said, sounding indignant. “I have an event and I was wonder—”

“Let me guess,” Seonghwa said as he pressed the button for the elevator. “You want me to do floral arrangements?”

He heard Hongjoong scoff over the phone. “No, I was gonna ask you to attend, smartass.”

Seonghwa got off at his floor and made his way to his door, bowing politely to his neighbor as he passed.

“When is it?” Seonghwa asked as he reached his door, fishing out his keys and unlocking the door.

Once inside, he kicked his shoes off and walked over to deposit his mail on the kitchen counter.

“Next month, the 30th.”

Seonghwa told him to hold, pulling his phone away from his ear to check his calendar.

“I should be free,” he said. “Send me the details,” he added as he started to go through his mail.

“Awesome. And actually, on second thought, could you perhaps make me something pretty to display?”

Seonghwa chuckled, shaking his head. “Goodbye Joong,” he said, hanging up before his best friend could say anything else.

“The nerve of that guy,” he whispered as he set his phone down. “To expect me to make him shit for free.”

Of course, Seonghwa would make something nice for Hongjoong and he would definitely be doing it for free.

Free food and alcohol that is.

——————————————————

‘Well, shit.’

Seonghwa stared at the long line from outside the cafe and sighed, reluctantly pulling open the door and stepping, holding the door for two people who were leaving. He glanced over the heads of the patrons before him to find you working diligently to take orders with another cashier and even hopping on to help fulfill orders, making lattes and wrapping up scones, muffins, and other pastries all with a smile on your face.

One of his favorite things about you. You never complained, at least not in front of the customers. You never let them see how overwhelmed or stressed you were. You always had a smile on your face, working fast to make sure everyone’s orders came out in a timely manner.

You handed over a bag full of pastries, giving the customer in front of you another radiant smile before they stepped aside to wait for their coffee and you were able to take the next order. Seonghwa couldn’t help but watch you work. He always had a habit of watching you when he came in.

He hated how creepy that made him sound but he was just so fascinated with how well you seemed to work under pressure and how well you kept it together when a customer was screaming in your face. You were always so polite and so sweet and Seonghwa knew he wasn’t the only one who noticed you.

There were always a plethora of men who flirted with you, asking for your number, asking what time you got off work. And always you turned them down gently and sent them on their way; every single guy got the same treatment.

Well, every guy except for Seonghwa. He noticed that when the other guys flirted, you smiled and steered the conversation back to their order, yet when Seonghwa did the exact same thing, flirting with you as if you hadn’t heard every pick up line in the book, you never once turned him down.

In fact, if Seonghwa was remembering correctly, you often flirted back with him, smile widening into a genuine one before you looked down at the counter and either busied yourself with a marker or your apron, something you often did when you were flustered.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but with him, you always flirted back and it drove Seonghwa increasingly mad. Especially when your smiles turned shy, you shifted nervously, or pretended to be busy, all tell tale signs you were shy or flustered.

Seonghwa remembered the first day you started working here, having been a regular customer for several years. He’d seen several guys flirt with you before he approached the counter and made a joke about them, which made you genuinely laugh. That was the exact moment he knew you were going to plague his every thought.

That laugh, the way you threw your head back, the genuine joy and amusement on your face and the cute stickers you added to his cup sent the signal that you just might be interested in him and so every day for the last two years, he’s been coming to this cafe.

Not for the coffee, not for the pastries, but to see your beautiful face. Hopefully make you smile or laugh, and when he did, it gave him enough fuel to get through the day, more than the coffee or the muffins you sold him every morning.

Seonghwa was only a few paces from the counter when you noticed him. You had been making a latte when you glanced over and noticed him, a shy smile gracing your lips before you went back to work so as to not spill any of the boiling hot coffee on your hands.

The next customer went, ordering what seemed to be the entire left side of the menu; thankfully the person before Seonghwa ordered a simple black coffee and a sugar-free blueberry muffin; then it was his turn. You wiped down the counter and smiled at him which soon turned apologetic.

“I’m so sorry,” you started softly. Seonghwa’s stomach sank and he wondered what you could possibly need to apologize to him for. “We ran out of your usual muffin,” you explained and Seonghwa smiled, his stomach settling back where it was supposed to be. No banana nut muffins? No problem.

“Oh that’s alright,” he said, glancing at the menu quickly. “Just the usual coffee and I’ll try a lemon poppyseed muffin instead,” he ordered, pulling his wallet out as you punched his order in and pressing the card reader option on the terminal.

“Sorry it’s so busy,” you added in an undertone. Seonghwa tapped his card against the reader until it beeped and put his card away in his wallet, placing it back in his pocket.

“And take your time,” he added. “I’m not in any rush.” You smiled and mouthed ‘thank you’ before turning to start making his coffee.

It wasn’t like anyone else couldn’t make his coffee, but he preferred it when you did and knew you preferred it, too. You often drew little doodles or added stickers and left encouraging messages on his cup sleeve — which he totally didn’t keep when he needed a mood pick up during the long hours at the shop.

He waited patiently off to the side, checking his phone. He wished he could get your number one of these days but he really had no way of asking, considering he knew you’d never be able to give your number to a customer while you were working. That had to be against a bunch of rules.

But he could leave his number with you, right? God, he was stupid. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

Seonghwa approached the counter to speak to your co-worker. “Hi,” he said softly. “Do you have a post-it note and a pen I could borrow?” he asked. The college-aged student nodded, grabbing a stack of yellow post-its and a pen, handing them off to Seonghwa. He took them with a thanks, scribbling down his number and name.

You moved from the coffee maker and slid open the cold case to grab his muffin with a deli paper. You placed it into a paper sack and grabbed the coffee cup, moving to the pick up area where Seonghwa was waiting. “One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce and a lemon poppyseed muffin,” you said with a smile as you placed his order on the counter and pushed it towards him.

Seonghwa leaned forward, thanking you and pressing the folded yellow post-it into your hand before grabbing his coffee and muffin, giving you a wink, and making his way to the door. He didn’t stop to see if you opened the note. He would find out later if you took him up on his offer.

As he reached the door to his shop, fishing his keys out to unlock the door and let himself in, he felt his pocket vibrate in his pocket and chuckled to himself. “That was fast,” he whispered as he shut the door and turned the lock, moving through the front room and into the office.

He set his coffee and muffin down, reached into his coat pocket and pulled his phone out, expecting to see an unknown number but instead saw a text from Hongjoong.

Joongie: what was that shit we got when we were in the city last month? The wine. The red one Seonghwa rolled his eyes before typing in a quick response. Seonghwa: the red wine we got at dinner from that one restaurant? It was Roscato – Rosso Dolce. Joongie: ur a life saver! (: thank u! Seonghwa: is this to impress a girl? Joongie: I’ll never tell ;)

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and locked the screen of his phone, setting it down on the desk and removing his coat to hang up. He sat down and opened his bag to pull out the muffin and took a nibble. It wasn’t bad. The banana nut ones were his favorite but this would do.

He grabbed the coffee cup and smiled at the words and doodles on the page as well as a couple stickers. ‘She must have done this when I wasn’t looking,’ he told himself, smiling at the little notes you left on his coffee sleeve. Another one for his collection.

The rush had finally ended and you could take your break. You grabbed a simple iced coffee and a muffin, moving to the back to sit at the break table and pulled the yellow note from your apron. You unfolded it and read on the note.

You smiled, gently nibbling on your bottom lip as you slipped your phone out of your pocket and opened your texting app, entering his digits into your phone and sending a quick text.

Y/N: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place

You continued to pick and nibble on your muffin, scrolling on your phone as you ticked away the minutes of your break. You decided to send one more text to let Seonghwa know you were heading back to work and would be unavailable until after your shift was over.

Once it sent, you pocketed the device and went back to work, trying desperately not to think about the phone in your apron pocket that vibrated every so often and what that notification might be.

The rest of your shift was uneventful as you took orders from the few stragglers that came in, others coming in to take up residence at a table and work on either work or school work while sipping on their coffee and taking advantage of the free Wi-Fi.

“Could you take these back to the kitchen to be washed,” Addie asked softly, pulling you out of your stupor as you stood doodling mindlessly on a notepad you kept at the register. You set the pen down and stood up, taking the carafes from her and heading for the doorway into the kitchen where Lin was currently washing dishes.

“Need any help back here?” you asked, hopefully but they shook their head.

“Nah,” Lin answered. “I got it. But thank you,” they added.

You turned away and headed back up front, sighing heavily as you returned to your spot. You glanced up at the clock. Time seemed to be ticking slowly, minute by minute. Inching by like a snail on a garden wall. Slow and steady wins the race but what race? Race of being bored to death?

‘Okay, Y/N, stop being dramatic.’

“Addie,” you murmured, chin resting in your hand as you looked around at the mostly empty cafe. “I’m dying of boredom here,” you announced before turning to face her. “Please tell me you have something for me to do,” you said, almost pleadingly. Addie chuckled and nodded towards the dining area.

“If you’re desperate for something to do, you can wipe down the empty tables,” she answered and you smiled, ducking down to grab the small bucket of soapy sanitizer water and a clean rag, before standing up and making your way out from behind the counter.

Cleaning the tables was something to keep your body occupied but unfortunately it didn’t do much for keeping your mind occupied. Every once in a while, you threw glances towards the windows that looked out into the town square where you could see the front of the flower shop.

You pulled your phone out and snuck a glance at the screen but there were no notifications beyond your discord group chats with friends. ‘He must be really busy,’ you thought to yourself as you tucked your phone away and went back to wiping down the tables.

Every time a table cleared, you were quick to wipe it down, brushing any debris onto the floor to sweep up later with the broom.

When the last of the customers cleared out and Addie shut the door, locking it and flipping the open sign over to the side that read ‘closed,’ you were beyond excited to get out of the cafe and go home.

Grabbing the broom, you started from the back, sweeping around the cafe, making little piles of dirt, trash, and other debris to come by and pick up with the dustpan later. Lin finished the dishes in the back and was restocking the small fridges under the counter while Addie was preparing things for the following day.

Once your small mounds of dust and trash had been swept up, you made your way to the back to fill the mop bucket and grab the mop. Taking it back to the front, you worked from the far side of the shop towards the counter while Lin returned to the kitchen to clean the back.

By the time both you and Lin had finished mopping and drying key areas of the floor, Addie had finished counting the tills and was in the office, doing the final accounting duties of the day.

“We’re finished, Addie,” Lin said as you both peered into the office.

“All right,” she replied. “I’ll see you two tomorrow?”

You nodded, waving and then made your way to the front door, Lin not far behind.

“Do you want to grab an early dinner?” Lin asked as they pulled their beanie on, the ends of their hair multicolored flipping up. You smiled and shook your head.

“No, but thank you,” you replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” you announced as you turned to walk in the direction of your home, Lin heading the opposite way.

As you passed, you glanced over at the floral shop to see the lights inside were still on from what you could see; the open sign had also been flipped to show it was now closed. You hadn’t seen anyone go in or out of the shop since Seonghwa entered it this morning and you wondered if it was normally closed on certain weekdays and you just hadn’t noticed before.

You were half tempted to stop by, knock on the door and tell Seonghwa in person that you were interested in going on that date, but you’d have to just trust he would get your texts. You didn’t want to come off as desperate but something inside you told you Seonghwa wouldn’t mind even if you did.

Still, you would wait for his response.

Seonghwa looked up from sweeping to notice the cafe had already flipped its open sign. He could see your figure in the distance walking away from the shop and he watched as you walked away, resisting the urge to exit his own shop and stop you. He’d just wait until he got home to check his messages.

He hadn’t been able to look at his phone since that morning when Hongjoong texted him. He had orders to fill for school dances and other events. It was also pruning day so he really couldn’t have his phone on him with how much work he had to do.

He turned away as your form disappeared from his line of sight and continued sweeping. His hands tightened around the broomstick, the frequency of his sweeping motion increasing as he remembered the way your eyes looked up at him in curiosity when he handed you the note and it made his mind run wild.

‘No. Stop it.’

He shook his head and tried to go back to the task at hand but it wasn’t long until his mind wandered, imagining how you’d look bending over to sweep the cafe and again he had to take a deep breath and force his mind elsewhere. It was getting ridiculous, the way his thoughts ran wild when you were on the forefront of his mind.

He was no stranger to fantasies but this was beyond fantasizing at this point. He couldn’t help but think about you doing the most mundane tasks before his imagination got away from him and he was imagining bending you over his kitchen counter, or laying you back on the counter of the cafe as he buried his head between your thighs —

“Stop it!” he shouted, throwing the broom to the floor with a clatter as he ran his fingers through his hair, eyes screwed shut as he regulated his breathing, shoulders rising and falling as he failed to gain control of his own thoughts and emotions.

His constant fantasizing made him feel like some sort of crazed sexual deviant and he often wondered if maybe he just needed to get laid and the thoughts might go away. Unfortunately for him, the only person he wanted was the source of his anguish, the subject of all his fantasies and thoughts.

Seonghwa grumbled to himself, bending over to pick up the broom and resume sweeping. He needed to get it done fast so he could go home to find some relief.

Once the shop was clean and locked up tightly, Seonghwa left out the front door, the bell ringing as he opened the door and shut it. Once he locked it, he began making his way across the square in the same direction you had initially gone, only to eventually turn right and head for his own apartment.

It wasn’t much, an old brick building that was once a high school before the new one was built and the old one turned into apartments. It was the first place Seonghwa looked when he was moving to this town and found a one bedroom apartment with a den. He’d lived there ever since, turning the clean slate into a home.

The bedroom Seonghwa had turned into an office and opted to sleep in the den where there were no windows. He had this thing about light; he couldn’t sleep if any lights were on, even if they came from outside. The den had no window, and so he didn’t need to buy blackout curtains. The doors to the den were double sliding doors that met in the middle and with the twist of a knob, locked together. It wasn’t as sturdy as a bedroom door, but it did the job.

Seonghwa unlocked the door, letting himself into the apartment where he shut and locked the door. He then leaned against it, letting out a sigh that morphed into a groan. He took off his shoes, setting them by the shoe rack, and removed his coat, hanging it up in the closet by the front door.

He set his mail on the counter and started going through it, sorting the important stuff from the junk.

Once that was done, he checked the time and sighed before picking up his phone and scrolling through the options for delivery. Once he settled on something, he placed his order and went about his business until there was a buzz at the intercom.

The restaurant must not have been busy because his food arrived promptly and he buzzed the driver up, paying him and giving a generous tip before closing the door and settling down with his meal and a show for background noise.

His thoughts shifted to you and what you might be having for dinner. Were you eating alone? Were you watching TV? Had you gone on a date? That last thought almost soured his mood but he forced the thought from his mind and dug his phone out of his pocket.

He had a handful of texts from an unknown number and opened the messages.

xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey. it’s Y/N (: I’d love to get dinner with you. Just say the time and place xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i was on my break but i have to go back now and won’t be able to check my phone xxx-xxxx-xxxx: just let me know! xxx-xxxx-xxxx: hey i just got off and i’m heading home. xxx-xxxx-xxxx: i’m still interested in getting dinner with you sometime

Seonghwa smiled to himself reading your texts before he promptly saved your number to his phone and shot you a few texts back.

Seonghwa: hey sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I just sat down to eat dinner. It was a busy day at the shop Seonghwa: if you’re still interested, i’d love to get dinner some time this week Seonghwa: does this Saturday work for you?

He set his phone aside and resumed eating only for his screen to light up with a new text from you. ‘She responded so fast?’ he thought. ‘Is she eager?’ Or perhaps, like him, she was desperate. Not that he would judge. He would never think of you in a bad way. He knew he was desperate, maybe even pathetic at times, but you? Not you. You were nothing like him.

Y/N: saturday sounds perfect (: what time?

He typed a quick response, trying not to get overly excited by the fact that you wanted to see him too. ‘It’s not that serious,’ he told himself. ‘Down boy.’

Seonghwa: how about 7? I know this Italian place not far from my apartment

He held his phone in his hand, food all but forgotten as he waited for your response which came just as quickly as it had before.

Y/N: sounds perfect! Send me the address and I’ll meet you there

Seonghwa smiled to himself as he typed in the restaurant name and address for you to save before he set his phone down and looked at his forgotten meal, cursing silently as he picked up his utensil and continued eating.

He had a date with you on Saturday at seven pm and he was going to need to be on his best behavior.

After eating, he cleaned up and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Since the sweeping incident, he hadn’t been able to calm down and decided it would be best if he just relieved himself in the shower.

It had come down to this plenty of times before, fantasizing about you while he was at work only to have to come home and jerk off so he could settle down and go to sleep. It was like second nature at this point. He had a few fantasies he could relive in moments like these, letting out a sigh as the hot water beat down on him, running down his body as he stood under the stream.

He pushed his hair out of his face, keeping his eyes shut as he let his hands rest on the back of his neck. Taking a deep breath, he let one of his hands wander, sliding down his chest, moving slowly further and further down until the tips of his fingers brushed over his pubic region, stopping to take a deep breath.

Behind his eyelids, he imagined your face, your sweet smile when he would flirt with you, the way you looked away clearly flustered by his attention. The images in his mind shifted to you standing in his kitchen; it wasn’t entirely uncommon for his fantasies to start off with doing something domestic like cooking.

He let out a sigh as his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock. In his mind, he had you bent over the counter, panties around your ankles as he guided the tip of his cock to your soaking entrance.

Slowly Seonghwa’s hand moved, stroking himself as he imagined it was your cunt instead that was cripping him tightly. He could almost hear your whimpers as he imagined he was thrusting into your warm, velvety walls instead of into his fist.

“Fuck,” he hissed, chest rising and falling with labored breaths as he continued to stroke himself, squeezing the base of his cock like he imagined your cunt would as you started to spasm around him. A few more strokes and he let out a stifled moan as he came, ropes of white hitting the shower tile.

He took a few moments to regain his composure before spraying down the tiles, washing away the shame of fantasizing about you. He always felt guilty following this sessions in the shower or in his bed as he imagined fucking you or your mouth but the shame would ebb away and the desire to have you, to corrupt you, would return in full force.

As he continued with the routine of his shower, he wondered what you looked like when you came. Did your eyes roll back as your lips parted in a silent moan?

Did you cry out, tears in the corner of your eyes as you came? He wanted nothing more than to find out, but he had to remind himself to take it slow. He didn’t want to scare you.

‘Baby steps.’

Once he was cleaned, dried, and dressed in his pajamas, Seonghwa entered the den, shutting the doors behind him and moving to set his phone on the wireless charger. He noticed he had another text from you.

Y/N: goodnight Seonghwa (:

He smiled as he sent a text back before putting his phone on Do Not Disturb and set it on the charger. He turned off the light and got into bed, thankfully drifting off to sleep quickly.

As quickly as sleep came, the dreams followed and the next morning, Seonghwa woke up with a raging hard-on and a new fantasy involving the cute barista from his favorite cafe.

After taking a quick shower to relieve himself, Seonghwa got dressed and headed out of the apartment, making his way down the stairs when he checked his pocket to find he was missing his phone. “Damn it,” he cursed softly and headed back up, letting himself into his apartment and grabbing his phone from where he left it in his room.

He checked the screen to see if it was charged and found a few message notifications. He opened the device and smiled as he read the texts from you.

Y/N: good morning Seonghwa Y/N: i hope you slept well! (: Y/N: i can’t wait to see you in the cafe this morning

Seonghwa chuckled, pocketing the phone and headed back out to start making his way to the town square. The whole walk there, he contemplated going to another cafe but felt that might be a little mean. Maybe he just wanted you to long for his presence the way he longed for yours.

The scene in the cafe was the opposite of the previous morning and you were currently camped out by the register, ringing up an order for a small elderly woman. When she paid and stepped aside it was Seonghwa’s turn and he was instantly glad he decided not to visit another cafe.

The smile that spread across your lips and reached to your eyes was even more radiant than any smile he’d seen before. “Good morning,” you said breathlessly and Seonghwa knew it the way you said it was more than a standard employee greeting a customer.

There was a sparkle in your eyes he’d never seen before. Almost a yearning, like you were excited to see him. ‘Cute,’ he told himself as he glanced up at the menu. As if he even needed to.

“The usual?” you asked before he could start order and he smiled at your eagerness to serve him.

Before he could stop it, his mind wandered and he wondered if you were this eager to please in other areas. ‘Don’t do this. Not right now,’ he told himself. He swallowed thickly and nodded. “Yes please,” he replied, feeling relieved when you looked down to punch in his order.

You told him his total, pressing the button for the card reader yet again, same routine as the day before and he paid by tapping his card against the reader. Once it beeped, you printed off the receipt and set it on a stack after he refused it. You opened the case to get his muffin, a banana nut one, from the second shelf, put it in a paper bag, and handed it to him before getting started on his coffee.

Seonghwa normally busied himself with his phone while you worked but this time, he didn’t look away. Instead he allowed his eyes to wander, taking in your backside. He was eternally grateful the cafe didn’t force you to wear some ugly uniform.

You wore a knee length cream colored dress with a white lace trim peeking out from under the hem. The dress was fitted at the waist, showing off your curves as you worked. The sleeves were short and there was a collared v-neck. The dark brown apron you wore complimented the dress, offering some contrast.

Seonghwa didn’t often take in what you were wearing, but the dress was really pretty on you. He wondered if you always wore clothes like this to work or if you had dressed up for him.

You finished his coffee, placing a lid on it and then sliding the cup into a sleeve before picking up a marker and starting to write on it. He saw you sneak a couple of stickers onto the sleeve before walking over to the pick up counter and set his coffee down.

“One caramel macchiato with white chocolate sauce,” you said softly, almost shyly as he stepped forward to take it.

“Thank you,” he said softly and smiled as you adjusted the ties of your apron that most certainly didn’t need adjusting. “See you later,” Seonghwa said softly, sending you a wink and making his way towards the door, pushing it open with his back and stepping out into the square.

You sighed and watched Seonghwa walk out of the door, crossing the square to the floral shop and watched as he opened the door. “What are you looking at?” Lin asked in your ear and you flinched, turning your gaze away from the windows, grabbing a towel and starting to wipe the counters.

“N-nothing,” you stammered but Lin already saw everything.

“Isn’t that the florist?” they asked. You shrugged, falling silent as you scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the counter.

“He’s pretty handsome,” Lin added as you pretended to be busy.

“Who’s pretty handsome?” a voice asked and you both turned to see Addie standing by the espresso machine, arms crossed as she leaned against the counter. “The florist,” Lin answered before you could stop them. Addie raised an eyebrow, glancing out the cafe windows over at the flower shop before looking back at you.

“What about him?”

“Y/N was sighing and watching him walk away,” Lin said, smirking at you as your cheeks burned and you looked away.

“Sighing?” Addie asked, glancing at you. “Oh no, is Y/N in love?” she asked, a slight teasing tone in her voice.

You rolled your eyes, setting the rag under the counter and started to walk away.

“I hate you guys,” you muttered, but you in fact did not hate them. A fact they were well aware of.

Throughout your shift, you sent texts to Seonghwa and he replied when he could. You could see people going in and out of the shop all day, some leaving with large bouquets and others with small ones or single flowers. Business was clearly booming, or was it blooming?

While you were waiting for your shift to end, you decided to pull up the restaurant Seonghwa had suggested, something you should have done yesterday when he first brought it up but it slipped your mind. He had mentioned it was an Italian place and the menu looked good.

As the day wore on, you were getting more and more excited for your date with the handsome florist.

Saturday, for you, could not come fast enough.

——————————————————

For Seonghwa, Saturday came much too fast and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it. The fantasies starring you had increased in frequency and he was finding it harder (no pun intended) to not pop a boner at the mere thought of you. He needed to learn to control himself.

He stood in front of his mirror, adjusting the cuff of his black shirt as he looked over his appearance, seeing if anything was out of place. He took a deep breath and gave his reflection a nod before moving to grab his coat, sliding it on. From the counter, he retrieved his keys, wallet, and phone, pocketing the items as he walked over to the door, slipping on his shoes, and let himself out into the hall.

The ride in the small old elevator down to the main floor took a few minutes from his apartment on the top floor and soon he was walking through the empty lobby, footsteps echoing against the walls as he crossed the tile floor to the front door.

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t a long one and he hoped it wasn’t too far for you either. He didn’t know exactly where you lived, he just knew you always turned left at the main road when walking home and he always went right.

The restaurant had opened up recently in a newly renovated building of connected shops. Seonghwa had seen it in passing a couple times and now that the opportunity to go on a date had presented itself, he figured it would be the perfect time to check it out, and who better to experience it with than the person who occupied almost all his thoughts.

Seonghwa arrived after a brisk walk, pulling the door open and then holding it for two people exiting. He stepped inside, approaching the host stand where a young woman with shoulder length brown hair wearing a plain black tee, black slacks stood.

She smiled up at him as he approached.

“Hi, just one?” she asked, grabbing a menu.

“Uh, two actually. I have a reservation,” Seonghwa answered.

She smiled, setting the menu down and opening the book. “Name?” she asked, picking up a black pen and scanning the sheet.

“Park,” he answered, waiting for her to find his name.

“You’re a little early,” she noted, checking the time. “I can mark you down and when your table opens up, I can send you a text,” she offered, looking up.

“I think I’ll just sit at the bar,” he said, watching as he scribbled something down on the page.

“Alright,” she said, smiling as she clicked the pen. “I’ll let you know when a table opens up.”

Seonghwa thanked her and made his way over to the bar, catching the bartender’s attention as he took a seat. The bartender, a man who seemed to be around his age, set a napkin in front of him. “What can I get you?” he asked. Seonghwa glanced at the glass bottles that lined a shelf behind him.

“Could I get a whiskey, neat?” he asked, looking back at the bartender who nodded and turned to open the case with the chilled glasses. Seonghwa took the opportunity to shrug out of his coat and look around as he unbuttoned his sleeve cuffs.

He had expected the restaurant to have a more modern feel but instead of a clean and sterile environment, the textured wallpaper was a cream colored, contrasting with the dark warm wood floors and accents. The tables were all round, covered in white tablecloth. The larger tables were in the middle with white cushioned chairs to accommodate 6 people. Along the windowed walls were smaller tables for two to three people.

Seonghwa turned back as the bartender returned, setting his drink in front of him. Seonghwa thanked him and pulled his wallet out to pay but the bartender declined. “First one’s on the house,” he said with a smile and walked away to go about his duties.

Seonghwa picked up the glass, swirling the amber-colored liquid before raising the glass to his lips and tilting his head back. The burn of the alcohol brought him out of his own swirling thoughts and he let out a small sigh as he set the glass down and waited, hoping you were on your way.

You glanced at your reflection for what felt like the millionth time since putting on your dress.

You’d opted for a white fitted one, which was a bold choice given that you were going to an Italian restaurant. You had gone back and forth on what to wear, trying to decide between a black dress and the white one you were currently sporting.

You checked the time and cursed. If you wanted to get to the restaurant on time, you needed to leave now. Rushing through your apartment, you grabbed your small clutch, putting your wallet, phone, and lip gloss into it and heading for the door where you slipped into your heels, a simple black heel with red bottoms. They had been a gift from your parents upon finishing school and you saved them for special occasions.

Once your coat was on, you headed out of your apartment, locking the door and heading down the stairs and out the front door.

You made the short walk to the bus station, opting to take the bus since you were wearing heels. The restaurant was only down the road from your building but you’d rather not kill your feet and thankfully, the bus showed up only moments later.

You boarded, pulling out your transport card and scanning it before picking a seat behind the driver and keeping your eyes down. You didn’t often take the bus but when you did, you always felt like a million eyes were on you. Of course this wasn’t true, no one was even paying any attention to you.

You really needed to stop reading and listening to r/no sleep and r/lets not meet stories.

The ride to the restaurant was uneventful and as the bus pulled up to the nearest stop, you stood up, briefly adjusting the hem of your dress and thanking the driver before heading for the steps, descending them carefully until your feet met the pavement.

The stop wasn’t too far from the restaurant but you still needed to walk to make it there. You felt mildly subconscious about the people you passed, but you knew that was your anxiety speaking, assuming people were looking at you like you were some kind of main character in a story.

‘This isn’t wattpad, Y/N,’ you told yourself. ‘No one is even looking at you. Wait, no, that’s not true. That guy just looked.’

You offered a polite smile at the man you passed as he looked you up and down and you instantly regretted everything you’d ever done in your life. ‘Great, he probably thinks you’re some kind of streetwalker. Not that there’s anything wrong with prostitution—’

‘Oh shut up,’ another voice told you in the back of your mind.

You looked up as you approached the restaurant and opened the door, stepping into the warm, cozy setting, a low hum as people chatted at low volume over their meals, sharing wine, appetizers, and no doubt gossip. You looked around briefly, taking in the cream-colored wallpaper, dark warm wood floors, and round white cloth covered tables.

The hostess looked up at you, smiling. She was cute and short, her chocolate brown hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. She wore a black tee shirt with cap sleeves and black slacks. She smiled up at you as you pulled your phone out to check to see if Seonghwa had texted you.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked, drawing your attention away from your screen that had no missed notifications.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone,” you explained as you moved closer to the host stand to allow people to pass you.

“Did you have a reservation?” the hostess asked. You noticed a black rectangular name tag with gold lettering that read her name was Jess.

“Uh, I’m not sure, actually,” you said. “I have a date and he didn’t tell me if he made a reservation. Could I look around and see if he’s here already?”

Jess smiled and nodded, returning her attention to the guest book in front of her as your eyes swept the room. It wasn’t large but it was certainly cozy. Three clear glass vases of different heights sat in the middle of each table with floating tealights. The overhead lighting was recessed into the ceiling and dimmed to create a more warm and inviting atmosphere.

Your eyes swept over the patrons until you reached the bar and your heart skipped a beat.

‘He’s here. He’s actually here.’

You noticed Seonghwa sitting at the bar, his jacket slung over the back of his stool as he nursed a class of what you could assume was whiskey based on the color. You turned to Jess. “I found him,” you announced softly. “He’s at the bar.”

Jess looked up and followed your line of sight before smiling. “Ahh, him,” she said, glancing at the guest book. “Your table should be ready in a few minutes,” she added, looking back up at you.

“Thank you,” you said before making your way over to the bar, heart hammering in your chest with each stride.

Seonghwa had certainly dressed up, making you glad you had as well. Most of the patrons in the restaurant had dressed up and you felt like you didn’t stand out too much. You cleared your throat as you stopped beside Seonghwa and he looked up.

His face lit up as he took in your form. “You made it,” he said as you set your bag on the bar and climbed up into the stool next to him. “What’re you drinking?” he asked. You glanced at the bar and took notice of all the alcohol bottles.

“Oh it’s fine,” you finally said. “I don’t really drink,” you added.

Seonghwa smiled and nodded. “Well, if you’d like a non-alcoholic cocktail, order whatever you’d like,” he said as he lifted his glass, downing the rest of his drink. As he set the glass down and nodded to the bartender, you decided maybe one drink wouldn’t be so bad.

If anything, it might help you loosen up. Your shoulders felt tense and you knew it was because you were nervous. You were here, at this upscale Italian restaurant, with quite possibly the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. For some reason, he’d asked you out.

“Actually,” you started as the bartender set a new drink in front of your date. Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze.

“Maybe a glass of wine,” you suggested. Seonghwa looked up at the bartender.

“What options do you have?” he asked.

“Something red and semi-sweet,” you added. The bartender nodded and moved to get your glass.

“You like semi-sweet reds?” Seonghwa asked, his lips pulled into an uneven smirk.

You nodded. “Yeah, I like a lot of dolce wines,” you admitted. “I don’t drink often, but when I do, it’s usually something like Roscato — rosso dolce,” you added. Seonghwa chuckled under his breath as he picked up his drink and took a sip. The bartender returned with your glass of wine and set it in front of you.

“Did I say something funny?” you asked, pulling the glass of wine closer. Seonghwa shook his head.

“No, not funny,” he explained. “It’s just a coincidence. A friend of mine asked me for the name of a wine we tried at a restaurant on my last trip to visit him and it was Roscato,” he continued, looking up to meet your gaze. “Rosso dolce,” he added.

Your lips parted and you let out a short, soft laugh. “Oh,” you replied as you raised your glass.

“That is a coincidence.”

An hour later, you were sitting at a small table in the corner by the last window, having shared some appetizer whose name you couldn’t pronounce and an empty bowl of spaghetti aglio e olio sitting before you as Seonghwa looked at the dessert menu. “Do you want to try the tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as you took a sip of your third glass of wine.

“Do you want to share it?” you offered.

Seonghwa glanced up at you, an amused look in his eye, like some unspoken joke that only he seemed to be privy to. “Sure,” he finally answered, looking back down at the menu and allowing you to breathe easier.

The server finally returned and Seonghwa asked for a tiramisu to split as you finished your glass.

“Would you like more wine, miss?” the server asked and you contemplated for a moment and then nodded.

Before the server could walk away, Seonghwa stopped him. “Could you bring another glass and the rest of the bottle, please?” he asked. The server nodded and walked away to put in your order.

You stared at him as he took a sip of his water. “The whole bottle?” you asked, biting back the urge to laugh.

Seonghwa shrugged. “I’m sure there’s only a couple more glasses left in that bottle anyway,” he said, the tone of his voice teasing.

“So,” you started, catching Seonghwa’s attention. “Flowers?” you asked.

He smiled, chuckling light as he shook his head.

“Don’t tell me you think it’s weird,” he said softly and your smile faded.

“What?” you asked softly. “No. I think it’s great actually.”

Seonghwa looked up to meet your gaze. “It’s refreshing to meet a guy who’s into flowers. Not a lot of guys know the difference between the meaning of a red rose and a yellow one,” you added, smiling when Seonghwa stifled a laugh.

“Have you had a guy buy you yellow roses?” he asked incredulously. You nodded and he went into another fit of giggles. “Yellow roses… my god.”

When his laughter had subsided, he cleared his throat. “I’ve always loved flowers,” he explained.

“My parents loved gardening,” he continued. “It was a normal part of my childhood. I learned about caring for and growing flowers and the language of flowers at a young age. I’ve always been surrounded by gardening.”

You leaned forward, resting your chin in your palm as he spoke, a smile on your lips.

“When I was a teenager, I actually wanted to be an athlete,” he added, absentmindedly playing with the rim of his empty whiskey glass. “I fell in love with volleyball and wanted to pursue it in college. I actually even started pursuing volleyball at the collegiate level,” he continued.

A smile crossed his face as he reminisced. “I met some of my best friends playing volleyball,” he added.

His smile fell slightly, no doubt a painful memory coming to the forefront of his mind.

“And then my grandmother died.”

Your smile fell and you felt your heart tug. You reached across the table with your free hand, placing it over his. “I’m sorry,” you said softly. Seonghwa smiled, moving his hand under yours to take your hand in his.

“It’s been a long time,” he started. “But thank you.”

He held your hand as he continued his story.

“Her death made me rediscover a passion and appreciation for flowers,” he continued. “We had the most beautiful arrangements at her funeral. It made me think ‘I could do that. I could make floral arrangements.’ So, I did.”

“I went back to school, changed my major, and started taking flower arranging classes. I got my degree in business administration and started arranging flowers in my parents’ house until I had saved enough to purchase a store front.”

You watched him speak, a certain fondness in your heart as he talked so earnestly. “I also chose to move from the city and I found this place while looking, falling in love with the small town atmosphere. I love being able to walk to everything like I did in the city but there aren’t as many people here,” he added.

“I’ve been here and had my shop for four years now and I wouldn’t change a single thing about my life,” he finished, looking up at you with a smile on his face.

You opened your mouth to respond but the server returned at that moment, setting a single slice of tiramisu down before he set down another wine glass and the opened bottle of wine. “Anything else I can get you?” he asked, looking between the two of you as Seonghwa lifted the bottle.

“No, thank you,” Seonghwa answered, glancing at you as he started to pour some wine into the new glass with a wink.

The server took that as his cue to leave, allowing Seonghwa to sit up straight and pour wine into your glass. You thanked him and looked down at the dessert. “Have you ever had tiramisu?” Seonghwa asked as he picked up his fork. You shook your head.

“Well, I’ve had those store made ones, nothing like this though,” you replied, picking up your own dessert fork.

“Ladies first,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the cake.

You glanced at it and back to him. “No, it’s okay, you can have the first bite,” you offered. Seonghwa chuckled lightly, taking his fork and slicing off a corner of the cake.

He brought it up and moved the fork towards you. “I insist,” he said softly. Your cheeks grew warm at the show of affection. You’d never been on a date where someone fed you and it felt exceedingly intimate.

And you liked it.

You parted your lips, allowing Seonghwa to guide the fork into your mouth. You’d had tiramisu before but this was unlike anything you’d had. It tasted like heaven. You swallowed, acutely aware of Seonghwa’s gaze on your face.

“It’s good,” you said softly.

Seonghwa’s eyes darted down to your lips before he reached up with his free hand, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You had some cream,” he muttered, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking off the cream. The cream that had been on your lip.

You were suddenly overcome with the urge to smear cream all over your lips if it meant he would clean it off with his tongue.

‘Whoa,’ you thought to yourself as you took another bite of cake with your own fork. ‘Where did that come from?’

“Can I ask you something?” you said suddenly, looking up to meet Seonghwa’s curious gaze.

“Of course,” he said, licking his lips and taking a sip of his wine.

“Do you have a favorite flower?” you asked.

Seonghwa hesitated as he contemplated his answer before smiling, a soft chuckle escaping him.

“White lilies,” he answered. You felt your lips pull into a smile.

“White lilies?” you asked as you took another bite of the tiramisu. Seonghwa nodded, watching as you licked your lips. “Why?”

He set his fork down and leaned forward, resting his hand on his knuckles, fixing you with a knowing smirk only he seemed to be the only one in the know.

“I think white lilies are pretty. Lilies in general are very beautiful flowers. The splayed open petals, the way they curl back and the various colors. Tiger lilies are also very beautiful but there’s just something about the white ones,” he explained.

You took another bite. “What do white lilies mean,” you asked suddenly, looking up at him, “in the language of flowers?”

Seonghwa fixed you with a peculiar look. His expression hardened slightly and you feared for a moment that you’d upset him but as quickly as his expression changed, it shifted again.

“Purity and chastity,” Seonghwa answered. Your cheeks grew warm under the gaze he was giving you. Something had snapped in him and the look he was giving you now was sending chills up your spine, a surge of arousal pulsing through your body and you had to physically force yourself to look away.

‘Purity and chastity, huh?’

Between the two of you, the cake vanished in no time and you polished off the bottle of wine not long after with small talk about the food, the setting, and work.

“So,” you said as you stepped out onto the sidewalk, Seonghwa following. You tied your coat closed and looked down the street towards the bus stop. “Wait,” you said, checking the time. ‘Oh. Oh no.’

“Shit,” you hissed, feeling your heart sink.

“What?” Seonghwa asked.

“I missed the last bus,” you said, mentally facepalming yourself for being so absentminded.

“I could walk you,” Seonghwa offered.

You smiled up at him. “It’s not that,” you explained, glancing down at your feet.

Seonghwa followed your line of sight and noticed the shoes. “Oh,” he said softly before looking around.

“Well, we could walk,” he suggested as he slipped his hands into his coat pocket. “And if your feet start to hurt, I could always carry you,” he added with a smile. You let out a laugh and looked down the street towards your place.

“Okay,” you said softly. Seonghwa offered his arm, keeping his hand in his pocket and you took the offer, slipping your hand between his arm and side and started to walk with him.

“I didn’t say it sooner,” he started as you walked, the sounds behind you starting to die down as you walked away from the line of shops. “But you look gorgeous.”

Your cheeks started to heat up at his compliment and you nibbled on your bottom lip. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Silence fell over the two of you as you walked down the street, but it was a comfortable silence. You wondered what he was thinking and where things would go from here. Would he walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight? Would he want to come in? Did you want him to come in?

Your thoughts were interrupted by Seonghwa’s voice.

“How’re your feet doing?” he asked, his tone light.

You smiled, glancing up at him. “They’re okay,” you replied.

“Are you sure?” he asked, slowing to a stop.

“I could still carry you.”

You laughed softly, lightly hitting his arm and continued walking. “Actually,” you said, stopping and letting go of his arm to lean down and carefully remove your shoes. “I’ll just go barefoot.”

Seonghwa chuckled as you collected your shoes and stood upright. Seonghwa held out his hand and your heart skipped a beat. “Let me carry them for you,” he said. You were about to protest but he took them anyway before offering his arm again.

You thanked him softly and the two of you continued walking. “Better?” he asked, looking down at you. You nodded, the cool pavement felt good against your feet that were starting to ache and burn from wearing the pumps.

“Much,” you replied.

The walk didn’t take too long and soon, you were climbing the steps to your apartment building.

You turned to Seonghwa and smiled, taking back your shoes. “Thank you,” you said, carefully putting your shoes back on. Seonghwa smiled at you, hands tucked into his pockets. Silence filled the space between you before you spoke, apparently at the same time as Seonghwa.

“Do you want to come up?”

“I should probably get going.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. ‘Oh.’

“I’d love to,” Seonghwa started. “But I have a lot of stuff to get done tomorrow.”

You nodded, watching as his eyes dipped to look at your lips and back up. ‘Yes. Please just kiss me.’

You started to lean in only for Seonghwa to clear his throat. “I’ll wait for you to go in.”

‘...what?’

“O-okay,” you said softly, turning to put the code to your building in. Once the door was opened, you turned to Seonghwa. “Are you sure you don’t want to come up?” you asked softly.

Seonghwa smiled. “Another time,” he said, and it sounded like a promise.

That seemed to calm your nerves, but you were still put off that he didn’t even want to kiss you goodnight. This was the first time a man hadn’t tried to get himself invited to your apartment.

“Well,” you hesitated. “Goodnight?”

Seonghwa nodded, a smile still on his lips. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You made your way inside and up the steps to your door, unlocking and letting yourself in. As you removed your coat and shoes, you felt as if in a daze. You walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water, chugging half of it as you stared at the wall before turning to face the rest of your apartment, holding the half empty glass to your chest as the realization dawned on you.

“What the fuck?”

Seonghwa arrived home and immediately hopped into the shower to relieve the erection he’d been sporting for the last two hours since you walked into the restaurant. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him. Had you worn the white, form fitting dress on purpose?

If so, why? It was like you were unknowingly torturing him.

The way the dress hugged your curves, the hem reaching to the middle of your thighs. The sweetheart neckline accentuating your bust, showing off your collar. Multiple times Seonghwa had fought the urge to drag you to the bathroom and bend you over the sink, eager to stuff you full of his painfully hard cock.

He let out a hiss, dropping his head as his hand moved over his cock quickly, imagining you kneeling in front of him in that white dress. “Fuck,” he cursed, his orgasm washing over him under the hot stream of water as he imagined releasing on your chest instead of on the shower wall.

He was growing tired of this. Coming home almost every day after interacting with you to relieve himself in the shower just so he could go about the rest of his evening. He was going to have to do something about it eventually. Whether that be finally sleeping with you or finding release elsewhere, he couldn’t fully satisfy his urges with masturbation alone anymore.

He quickly cleaned off the shower wall and himself before drying off and getting ready for bed.

As he lay in the sheets, he cursed himself for not taking your offer to go up to your place but he knew if he had, it might have been too much for you and he refused to do anything that would frighten you. No, if he was going to sleep with you, he was going to need to take it slowly.

You deserved much more than that.

Sleep didn’t come easily to him that night and he continued to toss and turn throughout the night until he finally settled into restless slumber.

The next morning, he had a plethora of chores to get done, trying to keep himself occupied as he got through them one at a time.

Each time your face invaded his thoughts, he cursed himself for saying no but ultimately he knew it was the right thing to do. Regardless of how much he wanted you, he wouldn’t give that easily into his primal desires. No, he had to do this the right way.

And he would.

——————————————————

Work for Seonghwa had gotten hectic over the next few days, booking events and preparing for a large wedding he’d booked a few months prior. He’d spent a lot of free time in the shop, cultivating the white flowers he had in stock and had been growing specifically for the wedding.

It was tedious work that kept his hands busy but his mind still wandered.

He hadn’t been in the cafe as often as before and he felt bad about that, hoping you weren’t taking it as a sign he wasn’t interested. He always made sure to let you know his interest was still there when he did visit and he couldn’t help but enjoy the way your face lit up every time you found him standing at your counter.

The innocence in your expression was the reason he was distancing himself but at the same time, it was what drew him in. The need to corrupt you and mold you to his fantasies. He knew it was wrong. You weren’t some art medium to bend and shape. You were a person with your own feelings and interests. He knew that and that’s why he had to be good.

He had to behave.

For the fifth time that morning since visiting the cafe, he shoved thoughts of you aside as he worked, pruning and clipping. He couldn’t afford to be distracted with thoughts of you right now. He needed to fucking focus and he couldn’t do that when all he could think about was you on your back —

“Enough already!” he snapped, slamming down the shears in his hand against the work table. He stepped back, running his fingers through his hair and taking a few deep breaths.

Oh, you were going to be the death of him for sure.

It had been almost two weeks since your date with Seonghwa and the aftermath was nothing short of strange. Through text he seemed perfectly normal and when he came into the cafe, he was the same as he’d ever been, flirting with you every time.

At least up until a few days leading up to where you were now.

The last couple days, his texts fell off or were short and you feared the worst.

He’d taken you on a date and hated it.

You kept replaying the date in your mind and couldn’t exactly pinpoint any moment that might have put him off. Had you done something? Said something?

As you mulled over everything, it dawned on you that whatever it was, it had to have happened after you left the restaurant. He wouldn’t have fed you like that if he wasn’t into you, right? Like, not everyone did shit like that.

You thought maybe you taking your shoes off was what turned him off but then he offered to carry your shoes like some lead actor in a Korean drama. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t like you still? So from that to reaching your door, what could have happened?

You scribbled on a blank notepad as you thought over it again and again until your brain hurt and you slammed the pen on your desk. You covered your face with your hands, pressing your palms into your eyes until stars appeared behind your eyelids.

You groaned loudly and let out a frustrated growl.

“It just doesn’t make any sense!” you hissed, dropping your hands into your lap and looked down at your desk, blinking away the stars. You glanced at the clock beside you that read 12:01 am and decided to call it a night and pushed your chair back. “Fuck this,” you grumbled as you turned off the desk light and made your way to your bedroom.

You had work in the morning and you couldn’t spend any more time on this tonight.

Letting out a sigh, you looked across the small square at the flower shop. The open sign was off, indicating that the show wasn’t open which was unusual for Seonghwa. He rarely ever closed the shop and you feared that maybe he might be sick or even worse. Unfortunately, you were currently on the clock and couldn’t leave the shop. Not to mention it was busier than one person could handle so you really couldn’t leave, even for a short break to check the shop and see how Seonghwa was doing.

“Y/N?” a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned to your co-worker, an apologetic smile on your face. “Sorry, Addie, I’m really out of it today.” Addie gave you a small smile, knowing you weren’t normally like this and for you to be distracted, something really had to be wrong.

“You know,” she said softly, approaching you as she stopped sweeping. “If something is bothering you, you know you can talk to me.”

You offered as sincere a smile as you could muster. “Thanks, Addie,” you replied. “I’m okay though. Just lost in thought is all.”

You’d die before you told her what those thoughts were.

Sure, you were partially worried about Seonghwa but part of you was lingering on what could have happened the other day. The night after your date. The night you had expected him to come into your place but instead he left you standing on your front step with not even a kiss goodbye. You had spent part of the night wondering if you’d done something wrong. The other part of the night you had spent wondering what might have happened had Seonghwa kissed you and came in like you planned on inviting him to do.

To say you wanted him was a downright understatement. You needed him. There was just something so incredibly sexy about him. Something romantic as well, and as demonstrated by the date you shared. But under all of the sweetness, the sex appeal, there was something more dangerous and yet you couldn’t put your finger on it exactly. You just knew Seonghwa was everything and more you wanted in a man and you needed him in the worst way possible.

To distract yourself, you chose to take orders while Addie fulfilled them. Talking to the customers and ringing up their orders didn’t take much brain power but it still kept your mind from wandering, especially at work which was a dangerous combination when the object of your current fantasies was across the square in his closed shop, working diligently on a large order.

Seonghwa had been working tirelessly on this order for a wedding. It was coming up, he’d booked the order months ago as was common practice for weddings. He had centerpieces, bouquets, and other floral decorations and arrangements to make and it had been taking up most of his time since the date which allowed him the time to focus on something other than his intense primal desire to bend you over the counter of his shop and rail you into next week.

Ever since leaving you on the doorstep to your place without even a goodnight kiss, he’d been beating himself up but he knew that if he had kissed you, it would have led to more and while he did want that, god did he want that, he didn’t want to scare you away. He wanted — no — he needed you in the worst ways possible but he couldn’t scare you off like that. Not when he wanted to do things to you he only ever dreamt of and dream he did.

That night and almost every night since, he’s dreamt up different ways to take you. In his shop, in the cafe when all others have gone home for the night, in his bed, in his kitchen, on the counter, everywhere. All he could think of was you, you, you. In every position possible. On your back, on your knees, on your stomach. He wanted to corrupt you so badly that you’d never want to be with another person but him.

It invaded his every waking moment and sometimes even work couldn’t stop the fantasies.

He was a man obsessed and his obsession could scare you away and he didn’t want that. You deserved more. You deserved to be courted, properly, but goddamnit all if he didn’t want to say fuck the rules, and just do what he wanted but you were far too precious. Too pure. His white lily.

He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Not to you.

He would do this the right way. He had to.

Seonghwa cursed as he poked his finger with yet another boutonniere pin, dropping the small bundle of flowers onto the work table and moving to clean the prick which started bleeding. These damn things would be the end of him. Why couldn’t he just use clips instead of fucking straight pins? ‘Outrageous.’

Once he cleaned the tip of his finger and it had stopped bleeding, he put a bandaid on it. He had twelve of these damn things to make. Who the hell has twelve groomsmen? At least the corsages were easy. Seonghwa picked up the boutonniere and started working again, cursing yet again when he stabbed himself. He groaned loudly, grateful he’d closed the shop for a few days to work on this order.

It was going to be a long night.

You called out a goodbye to your coworker as you headed out the front door. As you entered the mainly empty courtyard, you chanced a glance over at the floral shop. A single light from the back was flooding into the shop but the open sign remained flipped, as it had been all day.

‘So he is in there,’ you thought as you hiked the strap of your bag higher on your shoulder, trying not to wallow in the doubt and self-pity swirling in the pit of your stomach. Why hasn't he answered your texts? You were certain he’d seen them or at least you hoped he had. His read receipts were off so you couldn’t be exactly sure if he had seen them.

The walk home took longer than usual due to your preoccupied state. You’d almost run into someone at least three times, muttering an apology before hurrying on your way. Thankfully you made it home without further incident. Upon looking at the stoop to your front door, memories of that night came flooding back, when Seonghwa took you on what was probably the nicest date you’d ever been on only to leave you hanging at your front door.

As you climbed the steps, you fished out your keys and unlocked the door, letting yourself in. Stepping over the mail sitting on your welcome rug, you shut the door, locked it, and removed your shoes before bending down and grabbing the pile of envelopes.

You shuffled through them as you stood by the door before removing your coat, hanging it up and heading into the kitchen where you set your bag and keys on the counter and continued to look through your mail. Most of it was bills, advertisements, and a few card companies offering their services that you immediately tossed in the trash bin until a plain white envelope with a noticeable handwritten script caught your attention.

You set the rest of the mail down and looked over the one in your hands. Your name was written on the front but nothing else. No address and more importantly no return sender was listed. You hesitated, briefly remembering about mail bombs but snorted, amused at yourself for even considering a notion.

Why would someone send you a bomb?

You grabbed a knife from the nearby block and slit open the envelope, setting the knife on the counter and pulling out a few folded sheets of paper from inside. There weren't many pages, maybe just a few, but you opened them, reading the first line of the first page and felt your heart skip a beat.

Your breaths came out in ragged pants as you read through the letter, rereading a couple parts. Even though it was just words on paper, you could imagine the depth of his longing as he wrote the words. You let out a sigh of relief. He was just busy with work but he also didn’t want to scare you off, whatever that meant.

It made you wonder just what he could possibly mean.

‘I can be kind of intense at times.’ Intense how?

You carefully folded up the letter and placed the pages back into the envelope and set it down on the counter. “Saturday,” you whispered, checking the calendar hanging on the wall above your trash bin. That was only a few days away. Should you tell him you got his letter? Should you just show up?

You contemplated with yourself, the soft ticking of the clock on your wall punctuating the silence. You grabbed your bag, dug for your phone and pulled the device out, unlocking the screen and pulling up your message thread with Seonghwa.

You nibbled at your bottom lip, pulling it between your teeth and mulling over what to say before settling with a simple text.

You: I got your letter. I agree, I think we should talk face to face.

You pressed send before sending another one immediately after.

You: I’ll see you Saturday

You pressed send and set your phone down, breathing heavily as you stared at the screen.

The typing indicator appeared quickly and a reply came through just as fast. You peered down at the phone, reading the message Seonghwa had sent back.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

When Seonghwa had dropped the unmarked letter through your mail slot the other morning, he never expected you to text him though he wasn’t complaining. At least he knew he hadn’t scared you off with the letter or with his words. He now only had to face you. He’d finished the last of the floral arrangements for the wedding last night and was currently in the van, making his way to the venue across town.

This wedding was a huge event. It was being held at an old rustic farm turned into an event venue. The roads were paved up until the turn onto the dirt road. Thankfully Seonghwa was only providing the flowers and not the containers. The venue had all of that.

Turning off the dirty farm road and onto the paved winding driveway made him breathe a little easier as he checked the time 11:41 am. He was well on time and would have from now until three to help set up and get all the arrangements in their designated vases and places.

Afterwards, he could focus on what he wanted to say to you on the drive back.

The farmhouse came into view and Seonghwa let out a small huff. It was much prettier in person than it had been on the website. The house itself was an off white color with dark midnight blue shutters. The front door was the same dark blue with a porch wrapping around the bottom level.

The entire house was three levels. All the windows looked like the original ones and it was clear to him that someone had spent a lot of time and money to renovate this place, putting a lot of care into it. He continued up the winding driveway, noticing the white barn standing some yards from the main house. There were white and silver balloons lining the last 20 or so feet of the drive.

Seonghwa carefully pulled up beside the house and parked the van before opening the door and getting out. He saw a lot of people working, carrying tables, chairs, bundles of fabric with silk bows. Some were dressed in uniforms and some in dresses and button downs with slacks. Seonghwa looked around for someone in charge before he saw a woman carrying a clipboard and directing three people carrying a large round table.

He approached her, calling out and catching her attention. She was a shorter woman, maybe around his mother’s age. She wore a nice light pink dress suit and wore black thin framed glasses. She eyed him up and down, lifting her glasses to get a better look.

“Can I help you?” she asked, polite but clearly in a hurry.

“I’m the florist,” Seonghwa announced. “I have the arrangements and just need to know where to go.

The look on her face shifted from annoyed to beaming in a split second and it took all of Seonghwa’s willpower not to burst into laughter.

“Oh perfect, you’re right on time!” she exclaimed. “We’re setting the ceremony up in the house.”

Seonghwa nodded and moved to follow her so she could show him exactly where everything went. She pointed at the planters marking the end of the aisle where the bride would enter.

“And then we have a fridge to keep the pieces for the reception fresh,” she added pointing to the kitchen area. “Do you need assistance?” she asked, turning to look up at him.

Seonghwa nodded. “It’s just me, so any help would be greatly appreciated.” The woman, who Seonghwa assumed to be the planner, called over to two people, beckoning them over.

“Would you please help this young man with the flowers,” she asked. The two nodded and followed Seonghwa out to the van.

“I have everything labeled,” Seonghwa explained as he fished his keys out. “Centerpieces, boutonnieres, corsages, bouquets, and the large pieces are for the planters inside,” he continued as they reached the back of the van and he unlocked the doors.

Unloading the flowers wasn’t an arduous task especially since Seonghwa took it upon himself to label everything. It was just a matter of moving them inside and then separating the floral arrangements. “Here is the bride’s bouquet,” he said, unwrapping the plastic from the stems and turning to the planner.

“I have twelve more,” he added, nodding towards the counter where twelve smaller bouquets lay alongside the corsages.

“And the boutonnieres?” the planner asked as she scribbled on her clipboard.

“All here,” Seonghwa said, gesturing to the counter. “Twelve boutonnieres with pins. Stabbed myself a fair bit making those,” he added with a chuckle. The woman did not laugh.

‘Tough crowd.’

Once everything was accounted for, Seonghwa helped set up the arrangements for the ceremony, placing the large bouquets in the planters, delivering the bouquets and corsages to the bridal suite, accepting the compliments from the bridesmaids and bride herself who was in stark contrast from the planner, extremely sweet and thankful. The last duty he had was to deliver the boutonnieres to the groomsmen and groom which was a far more lackluster affair than delivering to the bridal suite.

Once he was done, he started down the steps and over to the planner to secure the final payment. He’d agreed to take the payment in installments. First was the deposit followed by the first payment and now he needed the final payment. He cleared his throat as she finished speaking with one of the venue owners and she turned to him. “All flowers accounted for and delivered,” he said softly. The wedding planner stared at him blankly before he sighed.

“The final payment?” he said in a hushed voice. The planner’s eyes widened before she nodded.

“Right,” she said quietly. “Of course.”

She beckoned him to follow her and led him through the house and out one of the many side doors. Seonghwa followed her down the steps and over towards the barn where a man in a suit stood, talking to a few others.

The planner waved him over and discussed the topic of payment and the man nodded, pulling out his wallet. Seonghwa thanked him as the last installment was made and thanked the planner as they walked back towards the house. With his job done, Seonghwa got back in the van, taking a quick look behind to make sure nothing got left before backing up and making his way back to the dirt road.

He had about an hour until he got back to town and another 20 before he got to the shop. He checked the clock on the dash to see the time was now 2:30 pm. Time sure does fly.

Now it was just him and his thoughts until then.

You glanced at your watch. It was 4:07 pm and Seonghwa was nowhere to be found. It was only seven minutes past four so you weren’t going to just turn around and go home. You’d give him another few minutes before you called it.

He had said any time after four and it was after four. You pulled out your phone to see if he’d called and you maybe missed it but there was nothing. No calls, no texts except the one from the other day. The day you’d gotten the letter.

Seonghwa: Saturday then 💮

You sighed as a breeze blew through the square, pulling your coat tighter around your body. ‘Come on, Seonghwa,’ you thought as you looked around. You glanced down, inspecting your outfit as a leaf landed on your knee, clinging to the material of your stocking.

It had been unseasonably cold for spring and all leaves and flowers that have been trying to grow have had a hard time braving the elements as winter tried to hold on. New green leaves quickly withered and died, the temperatures not staying warm long enough to nurture the growth.

Cherry blossoms hadn’t even sprouted due to the cooler temperatures and rainy weather. Spring was always among your favorite times of the year but sometimes, it just didn’t feel like spring and felt more like autumn or even winter at times.

You were startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door next to where you were sitting opened, the bell ringing and making you jump and turn to find Seonghwa looking at you with as much surprise as you felt. You had expected him to come to the front door, not from inside the store.

“Sorry,” he said immediately as you stood up, smoothing down your skirt. “Got held up by a sheep jam of all things,” he added with a smirk before noticing your cold-tinged face, his smile immediately falling. “Oh, have you been waiting long?”

You shook your head. “No,” you said breathlessly.

‘Liar. It’s been almost 30 minutes.’

Seonghwa checked his watch and then looked up and smiled at you.

“Here,” he said softly, gesturing for you to enter.

You crossed the threshold, the warmth of the shop offering you sanctuary from the plummeting temperatures. Seonghwa shut the door, turning the lock in place before turning to look at you. “So you, uh, got my letter?” he asked as he led the way through the shop.

“Yeah,” you murmured, following him into the backroom of the shop. You’d never seen this part of his shop before and it was like something out of a romance movie.

The room was rectangular with a short wall against the shop. The walls were lined with tiered planter boxes, built into the wooden wall, an array of flowers growing in each box, various colors and species. The back wall faced the forested area behind the shops. Glass windows dominated the wall allowing in as much natural light as possible.

In the middle of the room stood a butcher block work table with various tools for cutting, pruning, gardening, and what you assumed was flower arranging. The wall that the room shared with the main shop room had built-in-storage drawers under another flat wooden surface with various fertilizers, soil bags, and gardening solutions.

Hanging up next to the work table by the doorway was a garden hose, coiled and hanging neatly on its hanger, one end connected to a spigot and the other with a hose attachment. Seonghwa walked over to the work table in the center of the room and started cleaning up.

“I had some last minute adjustments to make before I delivered the order for the wedding,” he explained as he used a small hand brush to sweep any dirt, petals, and other debris off the table and onto the floor.

“I didn’t have a chance to clean up before I left, so I just want to get this swept up and then we can talk, if that’s okay?” he asked, glancing up at you as you removed your coat and hung it along with your bag up by the door next to his.

“I don’t mind,” you said as you grabbed a broom and walked over. “As long as you let me help you.”

Seonghwa gave you a soft smile and nodded, silently thanking you as you started to sweep up, collecting all the dirt, petals, leaves, and other debris from around the room while he gathered his tools, cleaned them and put them away. You opened the back door and brushed all the debris out the back. It was all dirt, petals, leaves, and twigs, so it should go back to nature, right?

When you shut the door, Seonghwa was wiping down the wooden work table surface. You returned the broom back to its spot by the door and turned to Seonghwa, your hand lingering on the mop. “Do you need to mop as well?” Seonghwa looked up at you and shook his head.

“No,” he answered. “I do all my deep cleaning on Mondays,” he explained as he carried the rag over to a small hamper and dropped it in.

“So,” he said, turning to you. “I guess we should talk.”

You nodded, watching as he washed his hands at the small sink next to the built-in work table.

“You said in your letter,” you started, reaching into your bag and pulling out the envelope, not noticing the look of surprise on Seonghwa’s face.

“You brought it with you?” he asked and you looked up as you pulled the pages out.

“I wanted to reference it directly instead of relying on my memory,” you answered as you opened the letter and cleared your throat.

“That you wanted to clear up your emotions,” you started, glancing at the first page and then back up at Seonghwa as he turned to lean against the work table, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yet, it doesn’t really feel like it’s cleared up at all,” you said, looking back down.

“Isn’t it?” Seonghwa asked, drawing your attention back to him. “I think I made them perfectly clear, baeknari,” he said softly, using the nickname he’d taken to calling you. Glancing down quickly, you re-read through part of the first page.

“I said that I had a great time with you,” Seonghwa started when you didn’t speak again. “I also recall stating that I like you far more than you seem to think,” he added with a smirk. You swallowed thickly. “And I’m pretty sure I also said that I think you underestimate my attraction to you,” he continued.

You glanced up at him. “What do you mean by that?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Seonghwa merely smiled.

“Just that. It’s more than a simple attraction, my dear,” he answered. “I’m not just attracted to you.” Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. ‘More than attraction?’

“You also said you think about me more than any man would normally admit,” you said, trying to avoid the look Seonghwa was giving you. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, goosebumps erupting over your skin under your sweater despite the warmth of the greenhouse.

“I do,” Seonghwa admitted. You glanced up at him.

“How so?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

Seonghwa let out a chuckle, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I think about you almost all the time,” he admitted, shocking you. “I think about you when I wake up. I think about you when I come to work and I see the cafe. Every time I look out the shop window and see that cafe, I think about you,” he continued.

“I think about you when I go home. I think about you when I go to bed. You occupy every thought.”

Your heart had started to race, beating erratically in your chest as he spoke.

“I think about you when I eat breakfast. And lunch. And dinner,” he continued, looking up to meet your eyes. His heated gaze sent a surge of arousal through your body. It was such a dark look. Like prey caught in the gaze of a predator. It was almost primal.

“I think about you when I’m driving; when I’m working…” he trailed off, keeping your gaze locked in his.

“When I shower.”

That seemed to do it, a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins, arousal pooling in your panties.

“Wh-when you shower?” you asked, voice cracking slightly. Seonghwa nodded wordlessly.

“I told you,” he started. “I think about you all the time. More than could be considered normal. You shouldn’t occupy my every waking thought and yet you do. Maybe I’m obsessed, but it’s not normal to think about someone as much as I think about you.”

“Obsessed?” you whispered, drawing his attention.

“Don’t worry,” he said, shifting his weight again, moving his hands to rest against the edge of the counter. “I know what’s acceptable and what’s not. And I would never do anything to purposely make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.”

You glanced down at the letter in your hand, scanning the words on the sheet before looking back up.

“You said you can’t write about the things you think about,” you started. Seonghwa clicked his tongue, standing up and walking over to take the sheet.

“No,” he said softly. “I corrected myself and said I shouldn’t write them,” he explained.

“I can definitely write them down,” he continued, handing the sheet back to you. He moved back over to the work table, putting space between the two of you.

“But you’d prefer to say them in person?” you added, looking back up at him. Seonghwa nodded.

“I do want to say them. I want to tell you everything I think of and everything I want to do to you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, making a small sound which Seonghwa noticed. You busied yourself with his letter, changing the page to scan the next sheet. “You said you didn’t kiss me because if you had, then you ‘wouldn’t have been able to stop’,” you read.

“Wouldn’t have been able to stop what?”

Seonghwa tilted his head, fixing you with a peculiar look. “Myself, angel. I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself,” he answered.

“From what?” you whispered, feeling heat rising to your cheeks. You weren’t dumb. You had an idea of what Seonghwa meant but you wanted to hear him say it.

“From following you into your house and doing everything I’ve imagined doing,” he replied, that dark look in his eyes back as he spoke.

“And what do you imagine doing to me?” you asked softly. Seonghwa’s lips twitched, fighting a smirk before he cleared his throat.

“Would you like me to tell you,” he asked, looking down at the table and back. “Or would you like me to show you?”

You were at a crossroads. If you accepted his offer, it would probably lead to sex which you weren’t opposed to. If you declined, where would that lead? Would you leave and never speak to him again?

You knew you wanted Seonghwa. He was kind, passionate, ambitious, generous, intelligent, witty, and insanely attractive. You wanted him so bad. So who were you to deny yourself?

Your eyes scanned the letter one last time before folding it, placing the sheets back in the envelope and sliding the letter back into your purse before crossing the room, sliding between Seonghwa and the work table before looking up to meet his gaze.

“You said you’re afraid of scaring me off,” you started. “Is that right?”

Seonghwa nodded, you noticed how he swallowed. “Why would I be scared?” you asked softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. Seonghwa leaned into your touch, lips parting as a soft sigh escaped him. Your thumb moved, brushing over his bottom lip.

“Because,” he started, his breath hot against your skin. “I can be kind of—”

“Intense?” you asked, smiling when he nodded. “What makes you think that would scare me?”

Without warning, Seonghwa’s hands found purchase on your hips, pushing you against the edge of the work table. “I’m not a very sweet or soft lover,” he murmured against your hand. “I’m rough, hard,” he continued, one hand grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to your palm. “Unforgiving.”

You brought your free hand up to run your fingers through his hair before grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging sharply. “And who said I am?” you asked softly, enjoying the way he moaned against your hand. He let go of your wrist, fingers skimming your neck lightly.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten,” he murmured, eyes scanning up to meet your gaze. “Keep this up and I’ll take you right here.”

You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, forcing his hand against your throat. “Do it, then,” you whispered. Seonghwa hesitated, eyes searching your face. “What did you say?” he asked, his voice quiet but clear.

“I said do it,” you repeated. “Take me, Seonghwa. I’m yours. I always was.”

The next moment, Seonghwa’s lips crashed against yours, one hand firmly on your hip, the other moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his lips parted, tongue quickly slipping into your mouth, moving against yours. You whimpered against his lips, his mouth swallowing it eagerly.

“God I would love to take you home,” Seonghwa murmured against your lips, hand still on the back of your neck, holding you in place. “Lay you down in my bed and take my time with you like you deserve.”

You felt his other hand slide down your hip to your thigh. “So why don’t you?” you asked, hands moving up his chest to hold onto his shoulders.

“Because,” he started, gripping your thigh and hiking your knee up to his waist. He guided you to lay back on the work table.

“I’m an impatient man,” he continued, his hand sliding down the outside of your thigh to your ass. “And I told you I’m a rough, unforgiving lover.”

You felt him roll his hips into yours grinding his erection into your soaked panties, giving you some slight friction against your aching clit. “And you told me to take you right here,” he added, slowly lowering your head to the work table, his hand moving around to ghost over your throat before sliding down your chest, not giving it much attention as he continued to move it lower until he reached the hem of your sweater.

“As cute as this is,” he murmured, pulling at your top. “It needs to come off.”

You sat up, grabbing the hem of your sweater and pulling it up over your head and dropping it on the table. Underneath you wore a simple ribbed white turtleneck top with short sleeves tucked into your skirt. Seonghwa grabbed at your shirt, leaning over to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

He pushed it up past your chest, hands cupping your breasts firmly but gently. “Take it off,” he ordered. You raised yourself up from the surface of the table to pull the shirt off, letting it fall wherever you dropped it. You were left in your skirt and a lacy lavender bralette with straps crossing over your chest.

Seonghwa let out a sigh as he took in your form, eyes shining with lust and another emotion you couldn’t exactly place. You suddenly felt self conscious under his gaze and moved your hands to cover yourself but he stopped you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your hands down against the wood.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled. “Don’t you cover yourself. I’ve wondered for so long what kind of lingerie you wear and to see it now? Don’t you dare hide it from me.” He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your lips. You sighed out as he left a trail of kisses from your lips across your cheek and down the side of your neck, stopping to nip at the skin above your pulse point.

You let out a moan as his teeth grazed your skin. Even if a mark did or didn’t form, you’d still know he was there. Seonghwa continued down your neck, leaving love bites in his wake until he reached your chest. “I’d love to sit here and admire you all night in this,” he said softly, fingers skimming the delicate lace of your bralette. “But I really want to take it off,” he continued.

You ran your fingers through his hair as he nuzzled your sternum, hands sliding down to your waist. “Take it off,” you whispered. Seonghwa lifted his head to meet your gaze. He’d barely done anything to you but he looked like he was intoxicated. Drunk off touching you.

“You want me to do that, blossom?” he asked softly. “You want me to undress you?”

You nodded shyly, heat rising to your cheeks as he reached up to stroke your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips like yours had earlier and without prompting, you parted your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking. Seonghwa let out a groan, his free hand fumbling with the clasp on the front of your bralette and managing to undo it.

Keeping his thumb in your mouth, he pulled you to sit up, pushing the bralette off you and letting it fall onto the wooden surface of the table. You swirled your tongue around his thumb and Seonghwa pulled his hand back before cupping your jaw. “Wanna show me what else you can do with that mouth, sweetheart?” You nodded wordlessly as he helped you down from the table.

“On your knees then, Kitten.”

You slowly lowered yourself down, keeping your eyes on his face. Seonghwa ran his fingers through his hair before cupping your chin. “Have you ever done this before?”

You nodded slowly. “Once,” you answered. “I’ll do my best though.” Seonghwa let out a groan before squeezing your chin gently.

“Open your mouth, blossom,” he ordered, moving his hands to undo his belt and pants as you kneeled there, sitting on your heels. “Tongue out,” he ordered as he moved slowly, sliding his hand into his underwear where your eyes couldn’t see. His hand moved inside his boxers at the sight of you on your knees for him.

“Come here,” he said breathlessly. You raised yourself up off your heels, moving your hands up his thighs. Seonghwa pushed his pants and underwear down just enough to pull his cock free, allowing you to see it. It was larger than you expected but it didn’t look like it would hurt to take.

The head was bulbous, tip slightly red with a bead of precum.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Seonghwa said, drawing your attention away from his cock. You opened your mouth again. “Tongue,” he added and you obliged, letting your tongue fall from your mouth to make space. “Tap my thigh once for yes and twice if it’s too much or you want to stop, okay?” he asked softly. You nodded and waited as he guided the head to your mouth, letting it rest against your tongue.

It was salty, no doubt from the precum, as he rubbed the head against your tongue before pushing further into your mouth, inhaling sharply as his cock entered your mouth, your tongue brushing against the underside. “Breathe through your nose,” he instructed. You did as he said and once you’d taken a deep breath, Seonghwa pushed the rest of his cock in until it reached the back of your mouth, stopping just before it entered your throat.

“I’m gonna guide your head, okay?” Seonghwa asked. You tapped his thigh to let him know you were fine. Seonghwa guided your head, making you pull back before pulling you forward. He set a steady pace, making sure to stop before you gagged.

After a couple moments, you didn’t need his guidance and started moving on your own, keeping your hands on his thighs, nails raking over the material of his pants. “That’s it, kitten. Keep going,” he muttered, gently stroking your hair. “Just like that.”

You moaned, taking him as far into your mouth as you could. You noticed how his hips started to follow your mouth, shallowly thrusting. “Hold still,” he instructed, placing his hand on the back of your head. He gave you a tentative thrust, gauging your gag reflex. He gave you another, and then another, setting a steady pace of shallow thrusts.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your mouth with a lewd wet sound almost like a gag but you didn’t gag. He was testing your limits and it seemed he could hit the back of your mouth without a reaction. You closed your eyes, breathing through your nose as best as you could with each thrust into your mouth. Seonghwa let out a strained grunt and thrust, hard, forcing his cock into your throat briefly making you gag and your body react violently.

He pulled back, as you gasped, coughing. Your cheeks were stained with tears, drool running down your chin and onto your chest. In every sense of the word, you were a mess but to Seonghwa you were a vision. He carefully pulled you to your feet, guiding you back onto the table before flipping your skirt up, exposing your soiled underwear. He tsked softly, looking up at you.

“How long have you been this wet, sweetheart?” he asked, meeting your gaze.

“A while,” you whispered. Seonghwa sighed and quickly removed your panties, stuffing them into his pocket as he pulled his underwear up to cover his cock.

“You were so good for me,” he murmured, parting your thighs to look down at your sex, arousal smeared all over your lips.

“Now I’ll be good for you,” he added. You propped yourself up to watch as he lowered his head, pressing wet, open mouth kisses along the inside of your thigh, stopping to sink his teeth into your soft skin. You let out a breathy whine as he skipped over your core, kissing up the inside of your other thigh and biting into your skin, leaving small imprints that would eventually fade.

“Give me your hand, blossom,” he said, holding his hand out, palm up. You placed your hand in his and watched curiously as he guided your hand to his head. “You might want to hold on,” he said with a smirk before dipping his head, spreading your thighs and licking slowly up your slit, pressing his tongue past your folds and finding your clit with relative ease.

Your fingers immediately curled into his hair as you felt some mild relief but as soon as Seonghwa got a taste, it was like a switch was flipped. His fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them parted as he lapped at your cunt greedily, like it was the last meal he’d ever have.

The tip of his tongue slipped into your entrance briefly before gliding back up to tease your clit. You raised your head, propping yourself up on one elbow, keeping a firm grip on his hair and let out a moan when you met his gaze. He flattened his tongue, moving his head from side to side slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he did.

Your thighs tried to close but he held them open with a vice like grip. You could feel your orgasm building, bubbling up like carbonation in a bottle of soda that had been shaken up. But before it could explode, Seonghwa pulled back, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand.

“Sorry, Kitten,” he breathed, leaning over your body, leaving wet kisses up your stomach, stopping at your chest to brush his lips over one of your nipples before parting his lips and swirling his tongue around it. He sucked lightly, letting it fall from his mouth before continuing, kissing up your chest and your neck. “When you cum for me for the first time, it’s going to be around my cock,” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath making your shiver.

You heard him messing with his pants, pushing them back down and pulling his cock free.

“I don’t have any condoms here,” he muttered, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I don’t normally fuck pretty little baristas in the backroom of my shop,” he added, a smirk in his tone.

“So I’m special?” you whispered, breathlessly as he pressed the head of his cock against your leaking entrance.

“Oh baby, you’re so much more than just special,” he murmured as he rutted against you.

“Such a pretty little thing. So sweet, and not nearly as innocent as I thought,” he added as the underside of his cock rubbed against your clit. “Will you let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Or are you too innocent for that? Have you ever been fucked raw?”

You shook your head. “No, never,” you answered. “Never been fucked raw.”

Seonghwa chuckled, his hot breath tickling your neck. “So I’m the first? You have no idea how happy that makes me. You’ll let me be the first, right? You’ll let me fuck you raw, won’t you?”

You nodded fervently, the tip of his cock bumping your clit and making you gasp. “Yes, Seonghwa, please. Take me, please. Fuck me please, please,” you pleaded. Seonghwa let out a groan as he slowed his pace, guiding the head of his cock to your hole and pushing it in slowly.

“Oh you really want this,” he commented, watching his cock disappear inside you. “Sucked my cock in so hungrily. What a greedy little cunt you have,” he murmured, sheathing himself in one fluid motion and rocking your body against the wooden table.

“Oh fuck, Hwa!” you gasped, one hand gripping the table edge above your head, the other grabbing his shoulder. You were half naked under him and other than his pants being undone and pushed halfway down his thighs, Seonghwa was still fully dressed.

Seonghwa cupped your jaw, squishing your cheeks slightly. “What a dirty fucking mouth you have,” he growled, his hips moving, pulling back and snapping forward, thrusting into you harshly. “Open your mouth, Kitten,” you parted your lips, obeying him. Seonghwa stilled his hips for just a moment, spitting into your mouth before resuming his punishing pace.

The table creaked under you with each thrust, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room with the sounds of his cock plunging in and out of your wet hole. Heat spread from your cheeks to your neck and chest as your orgasm approached rapidly.

“Are you gonna cum already, Blossom? I’ve barely even fucked you properly,” he chuckled, his tone mocking instead of sweet which you should have expected. He said he was an unforgiving lover.

You whimpered, hand moving up into his hair and gripping it tightly. “Pull my hair again baby and I’ll teach you what happens when you can’t behave,” he growled, one hand moving to your throat and pinning you down against the table.

“What will you do?” you challenged.

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes, hips snapping against you and rocking the whole table. “Turn you over and pin you down, fuck you until you full of nothing but my cum. Would you like that, petal? You want to be fucked full of my cum until it drips down your legs like a dirty little cumslut?”

You moaned, walls fluttering around his cock as your orgasm drew nearer. “Oh, that does it for you, does it? Sweet little Y/N, my own little lily, likes being called a cumslut?” Seonghwa teased, making you moan again as his grip on your throat tightened, restricting the flow of your blood but not your oxygen.

“Likes being choked, likes it when I spit into her mouth, likes being fucked like a bitch in heat in the backroom of my flower shop, you really aren’t as innocent as you seem,” he muttered, his hips stuttering momentarily.

“Are you like this with all the guys?” he asked, tightening his grip on your throat. You whimpered, thighs trying to close as his free hand moved, thumb brushing over your clit to send you hurtling towards the edge. “Do you let all the guys have you like this?”

You shook your head, gripping his wrist as the corners of your eyes burned with unshed tears. It felt so fucking good but you were teetering on the edge, unable to full cum as his thumb stopped rubbing your clit and he alternated to giving you shallow thrusts that had you standing on the precipice.

“No!” you gasped. “No one else,” you added. “Only you. No one else has ever filled me up. You’re the first. No one else can. I’m yours!” Your words had the intended effect of Seonghwa and he resumed ramming into you, resting his forehead against yours as he muttered he was close.

“Where do you want it?” he asked quickly, hips faltering slightly. “Inside me, Seonghwa, please. Cum inside me,” you gasped. Seonghwa growled, letting go of your throat in favor of cradling your head as his thrusts grew more erratic, sloppier, his moans coming out in pitched whines until he gave you one final thrust, tipping you over the edge, your thighs shaking as your walls clenched around his cock. You clawed at his shirt, whimpering as he fucked his cum into you weakly until his hips stilled, face buried in the crook of your neck as you both basked in the aftermath of your highs.

You weren’t sure how long it took but as you came down, the realization that you were half naked on Seonghwa’s work table in the backroom of his floral shop dawned on you and you cleared your throat, licking your dry lips, and tried to get his attention.

“Seonghwa,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. He hummed in response, pressing a few short kisses to your neck. “I’m feeling kind of exposed here,” you added.

Seonghwa lifted his head and let out a huff of air before pushing himself up. His hair was a mess, lips red and swollen from your kisses, his cheeks were pink from exertion. “Shit, let me uh…” he trailed off as he looked around. “Stay right there.”

He carefully pulled his cock free, wincing slightly as he tucked himself back in his pants and rushed over to the drawers on the inside wall. He looked through them quickly and returned with a clean cloth and carefully wiped your skin, the insides of your thighs, your sex and the edge of the table under you.

He dashed around, collecting your clothing and shook them before helping you back into your bralette, top and sweater. “Where are my panties?” you asked, looking around as Seonghwa zipped and buttoned his pants. “Oh,” he said softly, reaching into his pocket and pulling your panties out, unwading them and helping you into them.

“Just until we get you home,” he added as he redid his belt and looked up at you. He reached up, brushing your bottom lip. “Or we can go back to mine,” he offered. You smiled as he leaned in, taking your face in his hands and kissing you sweetly, in high contrast from the pounding he just gave you.

“We can also just go back to mine. It’s closer, isn’t it?” you muttered against his lips, grabbing him by the sweater.

Seonghwa smiled into the kiss before pulling back. “Is this your way of getting me into your bed, miss?” he asked softly, thumbs grazing over your cheeks.

“Mmm,” you hummed. “Maybe.”

Seonghwa chuckled, kissing your cheeky grin. “Dare I say, it’s working,” he commented, giving you another kiss before pulling away, taking your hand and leading you away from the table and towards the door into the shop. You stopped to grab your things and followed Seonghwa to the front door where he helped you with your coat before unlocking the door and opening it.

“After you, ma’am,” he said and you gently pushed his chest.

“Ugh, don’t call me ma’am,” you groaned as you stepped out into the night air.

Seonghwa followed behind, shutting the door and locking it. “Oh?” he asked, pocketing his keys and leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek and then your lips. “What would you like me to call you, then?” he asked, voice muffled by your lips.

“I like Blossom,” you said softly after a moment of contemplation.

“Or Petal,” you added. Seonghwa smiled, cupping your cheek and pulling you into yet another kiss.

“Blossom it is,” he replied before pulling away and offering his arm for you to take. You did so and followed his lead. “So your place?” he asked, looking at you as you walked.

You nodded, smiling up at him. “I can get clean underwear,” you said with a nod.

“Or you can just not wear clothes,” Seonghwa said as you walked, making you giggle.

“Well there’s another reason I’d like to go back to my place,” you added.

“Oh?” Seonghwa asked, looking at you as you pulled him to a stop and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“I have spreader bars at my place.”

You giggled at the surprised look on his face before letting go of his arm and continuing forward. Seonghwa quickly caught up to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Spreader bars? As in multiple?” he hissed. “Seriously? Next you’ll tell me you have an assortment of fantasy dildos.”

You giggled again, harder and Seonghwa looked at you incredulously.

“Guess I’m not as innocent as you thought,” you whispered.

“No,” he replied, a smirk forming on his face. “No, I guess not.”

You checked the label on the cup and read the name out loud, smiling as the customer came to get their order. The rush had just ended, the last of your customers trickling out of the door or finding empty seats to sit down and do their work or study.

“I’m gonna take my break, Y/N,” Addie said as you wiped down your counter.

“Okay,” you called back.

“Lin can fill in for me.” You smiled as Lin turned to look at you before they looked past you with a look of mild surprise and nodded. You turned around expecting to see a customer but were instead greeted with a singular white lily.

A smile spread across your face as you looked past the petals and saw the face of your boyfriend, the sweet, albeit kinky and sex-crazed, florist who worked across the square. “To what occasion do I owe this beautiful gift?” you asked, taking the flower from him and bringing it to your face to smell the scent.

“Occasion?” Seonghwa asked, leaning against the counter. “Do I need an occasion to bring my beautiful girlfriend a flower?” he asked, reaching across the counter to gently take your chin in his hand and caress your cheek with his thumb.

“Girlfriend?” a voice asked, making you both turn to find Addie looking from the back room in shock.

Seonghwa chuckled softly and looked back at you. “What time do you get off?” he asked as you admired the flower.

“In about an hour,” you hummed, looking up at him.

“Perfect, cause see I know this really great place. The wine is amazing and the food is to die for,” he mused, taking one of your hands.

“No flirting with the employees!” Addie said though you could tell by the tone in her voice she wasn’t serious.

“So how about it?” Seonghwa asked. “I’ll pick you up here when you get off, we can stop by your place and you can change and then we’ll go?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “Where is this place? Is it new?” you asked. You’d been to most of the restaurants in town and if something new had popped up, you were sure word would have spread. Seonghwa fought the urge to smile, cupping your cheek again.

“You could say that,” he answered. “I’ll see you in an hour,” he added, standing up straight.

“Wait,” you called, making him stop by the door but also making a few of the patrons look up. Seonghwa calmly walked back over. “Where is this place?” you asked softly, leaning in, ignoring the looks of both your coworkers and the customers alike.

“You’ll like it,” Seonghwa said playfully. “I know the owner.”

You raised an eyebrow at this. “Why won’t you just tell me where it is?”

Seonghwa chuckled, leaning across the counter and catching you in a surprise kiss. “It’s my place,” he finally said with a laugh and stood up straight, drumming quickly on the counter before walking towards the door. “One hour,” he called and stepped out the door, letting it shut behind him.

“Since when are you seeing the florist?” Lin whispered, coming over to get a look at the lily in your hands. “Since last week,” you murmured, remembering the intense sex you had with said florist in his shop and then again the next morning and night at your place.

“You’re hiding something,” Addie said suddenly, startling you with her close proximity.

“What are you hiding?” You shook your head. “Nothing,” you said, turning away and looking out the cafe window to the floral shop across the square where Seonghwa was unlocking the door and entering the shop, shutting the door behind him.

“Nothing at all.”

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#codn: spring24 #cultofdionysusnet #wonderlandnet #ksmutsociety #cromernet #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa fanfiction #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut

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rizsu · 15 days ago

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megumi fushiguro x reader 𓂃 drabble.

+ love, ‘su: what happens when your friend's brother is your type? flirting! not beta read mb

“can i date your brother?”

“that loser?!”

a smile works up your face, signaling to your friend that you are half joking and half serious. truth be told, you've been eyeing her brother for a while. he's awkward around you, messy hair that never seems to settle, gentle with touching, and not to mention his honey-glazed voice.

“go ahead. i was beginning to question him anyway.”

and just like that, you began plotting. the frequency of your visits to the fushiguro's increased tenfold, and so did the eye contact between you and megumi.

whenever your eyes caught his, you'd flash him a sweet smile, softening your eyes at him.

unfortunately, megumi can't reciprocate. he's malfunctioning on spot, bringing the back of his hand to cover him biting his lips, and the blush that creeps up whenever you're provoking him.

days upon days of subtle flirting turn into weeks. eventually, megumi got used to your advances. he's even mustered up the courage to answer you back.

little did he know that his improvements would crumble within one night. all the research on how to flirt back, questioning his sister about you, hearting your posts on social media washed down the drain.

—

it's not unusual to see megumi at the gym. he's a guy that cares a lot for his lean figure. abs that aren't too prominent, biceps that aren't big, but you can see them when he's in a tank top, and slightly toned thighs. he believes it's the perfect combination for himself.

besides this, all confidence is lost when you walk in the gym. what are you doing here? fuck knows why— you're unpredictable.

he's on the treadmill, getting his minutes in while he pretends he's not looking at you through his peripheral vision. it's obvious your destination is right beside him.

suddenly getting eight-minutes on the treadmill doesn't seem impossible. surely not when he's trying his best to not look at you.

your stare burns into him, heating his body as if you placed a fraction of the sun inside him. your eyes trail along his body, admiring his build. it's coincidentally just in line with your taste.

“you're drenched in sweat.” throwing the hand towel over your shoulder, you put a hand on your hip.

“y-yeah. been at it for an hour.” slowing his pace, he replies to you, taking in deep breaths whenever he can.

“the treadmill?!”

coming to a stop, he steps off the treadmill, taking your towel to assist himself.

“no, i meant the entire workout.”

your face contorted in disbelief at the sight of your towel being dirtied.

megumi pays no mind to your expressions, enjoying the satisfaction of being semi-dry instead of beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face.

the satisfaction ends when he felt a finger poke his chest, then it slid down the middle of his torso, stopping right above his belly button.

you giggle at his reaction. finding it amusing the way he tensed up at your touch.

“well, aren't you fit.” you teased, smiling at him.

megumi scoffs, grabbing your wrist with his hand. his grip is firm — ensuring that you won't be able to wiggle your hand out.

“how long are you going to do this, y/n?”

“do what?” feigning innocence, you shrugged at him.

at that point, he breaks. he's fed up and hates it when he's placed in guessing games. it's either you commit to the bit, or leave him alone — okay, no. he doesn't want you to leave him alone, but you get the point.

lowering his head to your ears, he whispers, “you know what i'm talking about.”

has his voice always been that deep? you wondered to yourself, ignoring the chills his whisper sent.

you turn your head away from him, bringing yourself back to reality.

“then do something about it.”

“you've got quite the tongue, y/n.”

“thanks, i got it from my mother!” your quick remarks are back, but you're still avoiding eye contact.

maybe it's the fact that he's obviously irritated—or maybe it's his now see-through tank top that's making it impossible for you to continue your usual endeavours.

annoyed, megumi leans back, rolling his shoulders. his hand's still holding your wrist, and the other's settled in his sweatpant's pocket.

“let's go back.” a heavy sigh left him.

“but i just got here!” you refused to leave.

“you already saw what you came for. it's time to go, y/n.”

he walked forward, pulling you behind him. the irritated feeling long replaced by the heartbeat that's booming in his ears. tonight's the night one of you will become victorious.

#. ae-generated: jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro fluff #jjk x y/n #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk drabbles #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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highvern · 7 months ago

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Between the Titles

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, smut (mature/18+)

warnings: egregious caffeine consumption, yoongi smokes cigarettes, reader is about the same height as yoongi (its me hello im almost the same height as him), gay taehyung, volunteer jungkook, silver fox yoongi (he just has some gray hair bc hot) smut warnings: making out, grinding, fingering, oral (f. receiving), semi-public sexual acts, bathroom sex, protected sex, praise kink

Length: ~9.5k

Note: no thoughts, just big brain yoongi in a sweater smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. btw almost all the books in this are real but i haven't read them so if you have lmk if they're worth the read lmao. thank u to my dearest @gyuswhore and @idyllic-ghost for beta-ing this

Summary: Five days a week in the library means you're very familiar with the senior research librarian. It also means he has no qualms about making his own book recommendations either.

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The sweet aroma of old books and strong coffee infiltrates your nose as the heavy doors into the library swing open, offering reprieve from the storm raging on outside. It’s far too early for anyone to be here beyond staff and a few other morning birds. You glide right to the circulation desk as if fatigue doesn’t pulse through your veins, barely quelled by the second cup of coffee you sip from.

As always, the same familiar head of dark hair with sparse silver streaks waits at the circulation desk. He’s the only person working this early despite being the senior research librarian but you never hear any complaints louder than muttered annoyance under his breath when he thinks no one is around to hear. Bent over his laptop, Yoongi doesn’t even bother to look up as he slides a heavy stack of books to the edge of the counter.

Eleven total, ten heavy volumes on ancient fertility cults across the globe, and one book you know he’s mixed in for his own amusement.

It’s become something of a game between you two. At first you thought he was mixing your materials with someone else’s, but every time you brought the additional copy back to his desk, Yoongi insisted he had no idea what you were talking about and questioned your reading choices. Each time the titles got more ridiculous: Castration: The Advantages and the Disadvantages, How to Enjoy Your Weeds, Amish Vampires in Space, the list goes on and on. But after he slipped Why Fish Don’t Exist into your stack a few weeks ago, you decided to start responding.

You left the stack at his desk like usual, ears perked for his reaction to Fishes I Have Known. An amused snort rang out just as you opened the doors to leave for the afternoon. The sound was so unlike the stoic man you’d become accustomed to over months working on your thesis; not that you heard him talk much to begin with.

Since then you’ve made a point to match every book he leaves for you. Yesterday, Yoongi chose I Could Pee on This: and Other Poems by Cats. At the end of the day, you spent thirty minutes searching shelf after shelf for an appropriate response, every book failing to meet your expectations. It wasn’t fair he knew the expansive collection like the back of his hand but nevertheless you found something up to par.

Yoongi rolled his eyes when you passed your books over the counter, a copy of Staying Dry: A Practical Guide to Bladder Control, like a shining star on top. A brief pink of his tongue flashed across his lips, a feeble attempt to muffle an amused smile. It was the most obvious reaction since the first time you responded.

Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, you left on clouds last night.

But this morning you have notes to write.

Snagging the collection, you make your way deeper into the building. Your unassigned-assigned desk tucked away on the fifth floor, far enough away from any noise so you can fully immerse in work without the threat of distraction. An uninterrupted view of the courtyard below is an added bonus.

The wooden table top is covered in a neat collection of pens and sticky notes in minutes; your laptop and the foot tall collection of references you devour over the next eight hours taking up the other half.

A few titles you request over and over sit on top, too valuable to be checked out for long term use so you settle for keeping them in constant rotation since no one else bothers to read the dusty yellowing tombs. For now, you focus on the new pieces you hope hold the information you need.

Earth rites: fertility practices in pre-industrial Britain, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in the Ancient Mediterranean, Metamorphosis of Baubo: myths of woman's sexual energy—

I’m in Love with Mothman…

Well there it is.

You thumb across the glossy cartoon cover, failing to bite back a smile. Yoongi has a penchant for tossing in the most outlandish romance books he can find. Maybe because he knows you spend just as much if not more time than he does between the stacks. The suggestion box at the desk was full of cards stained with your penmanship asking for longer hours; several of which you’ve seen Yoongi rip in half as he pointedly met your gaze.

Tossing it aside, you pull forward one of the more musty books and start reading.

When you finally manage to resurface from laborious tales on several cults of Aphrodite, the rain is long gone. Even the darkest corners of the old building seem to glow gold in the evening sunset filtering through the glass doors. They're the only thing standing between you and freedom in the form curling up on your couch with a glass of wine and a new episode of your favorite reality dating show. But first, Yoongi needs his books back.

His desk chair is abandoned and the return cart is gone as well which means he could be anywhere in the building. Disappointment leaches into your spine at the fact you won’t be able to witness his reaction to the twelfth book in your pile; the one you spent an extra fifteen minutes looking for in the corner of the third floor.

A thick piece of library paper lists the materials you’ll need for the next day lays atop the neon green cover of Pest Management Solutions: How to Manage Your Moth Problem. They decorate the corner of the desk until Yoongi returns to find them. Hopefully he appreciates your humor.

Yoongi isn’t at his desk the next morning when you come in either. Instead, a doe eyed man with a lip piercing occupies the chair, clearly playing some game on his laptop.

Approaching the counter, you begin to ask, “Where’s Yoon–”

“Staff meeting,” he interjects like he’s already answered the question a million times despite the library opening only five minutes ago. The white of his teeth threaten to blind you. “But I can help you!”

His name tag isn’t the same engraved golden metal Yoongi’s is, it’s a plastic sleeve with a paper insert with barely legible handwriting you decipher as “Jungkook” and below “Volunteer.” You’ve seen him before from a distance. Usually trudging through the shelves with the book return cart in tow, occasionally taking a quick read inside before putting them in their rightful place.

“I need to pick up some books. I gave Yoongi the list yesterday.”

“Sure.” Jungkook jumps up, approaching the shelf lined with piles for other patrons. “What’s your last name?”

He combs through the list after you answer, finding your stack easily enough.

“Alright so Yoongi left a note that the encyclopedias you wanted are on the usual desk you have upstairs. But other than that I’ve got: Historical Studies of Changing Fertility, Sacred Mushroom and The Cross, Archaeology and Fertility Cults in The Ancient Mediterranean…” Jungkook lists off the titles, checking to make sure they're all in order. “And, um, this one isn’t on the list.”

It must be Yoongi’s choice for the day.

“What is it?”

Jungkook looks like he’s trying to hide his own amusement as he slides it over for you to read.

If I Were a Bird, You'd be The First Person I'd Shit On.

“Huh,” you blush. “Wonder how that got in there.”

“He must have left it by mistake. I can put it ba–”

“No, I’ll take it.” You toss it on top of the other, less embarrassing books in your stack and gather it into your arms before Jungkook can get in another word. “Thanks for your help!”

Scurrying towards the hallway housing the elevators, you attempt to juggle the pile of books, your stuffed bag, and coffee without taking a spill. It’s one thing to have your silent battle with Yoongi, but having someone else witness it makes you feel downright silly. And for the first one witnessed by others to be such an absurd and downright passive aggressive selection sends embarrassment through your veins.

As promised, three encyclopedias sit neatly on your desk; the volumes so thick they protrude from the table top like a small mountain. No wonder he left them there instead of making you carry them up in individual trips. But Yoongi’s goodwill clearly ended there. A sticky note on top of the stack pens his discontent at your selection.

I had to spend 3 hours in the basement to find these. If you need them again, don’t.

Even though he hadn’t signed it, you know it’s from him. The tight script fits his personality; thin lines of annoyance bleeding through the ink, not just his words. A waft of musty old paper and dust breezes through your nose as you open the first copy. They must have been housed in a forgotten storage area. At least his bird book makes more sense now.

You don’t dig into the heap until after the sun is halfway through the sky but when you do it only proves to unravel your wits. Reading on, the wrinkle in your eyebrows deepens further. Page after page of conflicting knowledge passes by, each sentence more confusing than the last; minutes negating months of research. The thick pages hardly provide a soft landing for your head as you allow it to thump forward in exasperation.

The scrap of chair legs alerts to a new presence watching your meltdown in real time.

“Something wrong?” Yoongi asks.

With a heavy sigh, you respond.“I want to die.”

“Get in line.”

Shifting in your seat, you peer in his direction. A different day but the same wardrobe: dark button up, glasses, same unapproachable facade. But what Yoongi is doing sitting next to you is new.

Yoongi makes himself comfortable, picking at his nails as he waits patiently for an explanation.

“Everything in my thesis is either wrong or the world authority on fertility in Europe is full of it.”

“Bummer.”

“Your sincerity is overwhelming.” You snap.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Boredom seeps across his face but he doesn’t move to leave, just sinks deeper into the chair. “You’ve read almost half the collection since you started coming here, why are some old dusty books such a big deal?”

“Because all of those books cite these books which means those books are wrong and all my work is in the toilet.”

“Those books are from the seventies, the information is probably out of date.”

Slamming the copy serving as a pillow shut, you take a second glance at the title: Encyclopedia of Women and World Religion, Volume 7.

“Yoongi,” you sing.

Yoongi’s gaze flashes to yours, a trickle of confusion flashing across his eyes.“What?”

You stack up the books and push them across the desk with some effort. Just to savor the satisfaction of besting Yoongi, you indulge a long sip of now cold coffee before speaking again. No one else is around to witness your victory but that won’t dampen the high.

“Looks like you’ll be back in the basement because you brought me the wrong editions.”

He opens his mouth to argue, snatching one of the books to investigate but you beat him to the punch.

“I asked for the twenty-fifth edition, not the seventh.” You smirk. “I think you're losing your touch.”

He watches you over the rim of the cover. A fleeting glance in your direction but it makes your heart squeeze with need.

“Well, I guess you’re right,” Yoongi sighs, standing. “Do you still need them for anything or can I go ahead and take them?”

With your approval, he heaves the heavy tombs on to his cart. The strain of his forearms, bare from rolled up sleeves, catches your attention. Veins raised under creamy skin, lean muscles leading down to hands you’ve noticed since the first day you started visiting the library.

If you keep staring, you’re likely to start drooling. So you dive back into one of the useful books littering your desk and pretend to read until he’s disappearing down the hall.

On your way out, leaving much earlier than a typical day due to Yoongi’s mistake, you drop the remaining books off at the circulation desk. Along with a copy of Avian Hunting Techniques. He’s absent again but it doesn't matter.

You continue out the doors and down the sidewalk only to spot him leaning against the brick exterior further down the street. Even from a distance you can make out the natural scowl he’s constantly sporting. Except this time his lips pout around a cigarette.

Of course he smokes.

The quasi-mysterious librarian who flirts with you through book titles, smokes cigarettes and looks hot doing it.

“You know those things will kill you, right?”

“That’s what the box says but they aren’t holding up their end of the deal,” Yoongi responds, flicking the ash before looking at his watch. “Wow, out before six. I’ll alert the press.”

“Well, if someone gave me the right books then maybe I’d stay longer. But I’m not about to wait around while you get the ones I need.”

Yoongi takes another drag of his cigarette before responding, “Are you trying to say I forced you to take a break?”

The realization dawns on you. Yoongi is the senior research librarian. He’s never given you the wrong books, even when you request the rare copies needed to be loaned from a different part of the country. The few times you’ve offered understanding if he couldn’t get them were met with a challenge in his gaze and smug satisfaction when handing them over a week later.

“You brought me the wrong copies on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s lying. You know it. Yoongi definitely knows you know by the way he smirks. But he’s already crushing the filter under his shoe and moving back towards the library by the time your brain catches up to your mouth. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

With a scoff of indignation, you stalk towards your car.

The next morning, you march straight through the class doors to where Yoongi sits, fueled by snowballed annoyance from the previous day. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed is an understatement. If there are any gods, Yoongi should pick one and pray.

Your free afternoon of yesterday was spent dealing with the chaos your apartment has become over the past few weeks. Unfolded laundry, stacks of random papers, out of place books, and errant dust bunnies all became new victims to energy usually reserved for a full day of research. Taehyung practically shit himself when he woke up before dinner and found you scrubbing the bathroom sink.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, hand to his chest like a flustered old woman.

Bleach curled in your nostrils. “I live here.”

“Not between the hours of eight and seven.”

But after the mess was dealt with, aggravation set in. How dare Yoongi purposefully meddle in your work. Well meaning or not you were an adult and could decide when enough was enough. The purposeful mishap hadn’t set you back far, one afternoon but a drop in the bucket in comparison to the months you’ve already spent chasing new leads. But the principle of the matter is that it’s none of his business what you do and when you do it.

Yoongi slides a slimmer stack over when you stop in front of him.

“Encyclopedias are on your desk,” he announces through a sip of coffee. He continues to type away, feigning disinterest as you sort through your stack with measured annoyance.

“Are they the right copies this time?”

“Double checked them myself.”

You open your mouth to verbalize your doubts but Yoongi’s pick of the day catches your eye.

Surviving Your Stupid Stupid Decision to Go to Grad School.

Scoffing, you flip the book around and shoot daggers into his face with your eyes. “Do you think you’re funny?”

The corner of his mouth twitches then becomes a full blown smile. Leaning over the desk, he drops his voice, “I think I’m hilarious.”

Remembering you are, in fact, in a library, you manage to muffle a frustrated groan. You dump the supplementary reading back on the counter for Yoongi to deal with and head upstairs.

Unlike the usual days where you put off finding a response to Yoongi’s extra copy until the waning hours of the afternoon, you drop your bags and head straight for the shelves. The fifth floor houses a collection of textbooks and other reference material. It’s why it's always deserted unless some poor fool stumbles on it by accident; the perfect place to work uninterrupted for hours.

You head down stairs, circling the fourth and then third floor like a shark in a feeding frenzy. A few covers spark interest but nothing captures what bubbles in your veins: annoyance, anger, confusion. A brief flutter of interest as to why Yoongi decided to mess with you but those feelings are more dangerous than the acidic ones.

Row after proves unfruitful in your quest for passive aggressive revenge. None have the same bite as his book, or seem to curb the homicidal thoughts raging in your head.

Until a little white book peeps back at you from the end of the aisle.

Yoongi jumps when you slam Bitter Is the New Black: Confessions of a Condescending, Egomaniacal, Self-Centered Smartass in front of him. A feat in and of itself to sneak up on him given the loan desk has a perfect view of the entire first floor but whatever he’d been clicking away at on the computer was distraction enough.

“What's this?”

“Thought you might like some new reading.” You flash your teeth.

His chin jerks towards the glossy cover. “I already gave this two stars on Goodreads.”

Of course he has.

Face prickling in embarrassment, you turn back the way you came without a word.

Hours later, when half the day has ticked by and the ache for more caffeine burns your eyes, Yoongi stops by your desk. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try and gain the attention you pointedly withhold. He sets a paper coffee cup on the corner of the tabletop and leaves.

You snatch up the cup after he rounds the corner out of sight. The lack of sugar leaves much to be desired but free coffee is free coffee, especially to a PhD student with limited means.

It isn’t much of an apology but guilt blooms down your spine anyway. He meant well. You aren’t known for giving yourself breaks; unable to quit while you’re ahead. A voluntary day off is less likely than winning the lottery. You’re a busy body and the constant work keeps you from dissolving into chaos.

You don’t see Yoongi again until every book at your desk is exhausted, begging for a break from your manhandling. Double and triple checking notes and citations are the poor excuse you implement to delay the inevitable. At some point you’ll have to go downstairs to face the music.

He’s waiting like always, scanning the mountain of returns littering the counter from a long day. Each step closer withers something in your stomach.

The copies in your hand shift onto the wooden surface, joining the stack for him to work through. Yoongi flashes a polite grimace when you catch his eye before immediately diving back into his work. Hopefully he understands why you chose Thank You for Smoking. And why you covered the second half of the title with a sticky note.

Jungkook’s smiling face greets you bright and early. His name tag has been upgraded from flimsy paper to a plastic one and a printed label with his name.

Handing over your library card, he quickly scans it and grabs the books meant for today’s dissection.

“Yoongi wanted me to tell you that if you want more coffee while you’re working, you can go to the staff lounge on the second floor.”

“Oh.”

Jungkook continues sifting through your requests, making sure each is correct. “Between you and me, the coffee down the street is better. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a coffee snob and thinks his shit—sorry—stuff is the best.”

“Okay,” you say, grabbing your pile. “Thanks.”

You set up your station like always, sorting through each book and devising a mental to do list. The desk resembles a feast but instead of food it’s encyclopedias, printed articles, and dusty manuscripts Yoongi wrangled from who knows where. On the outer board of your work station rests the feature of the day: How to Beg for Cigarettes.

A few hours pass between the pages. Your previous research is confirmed by the significantly less dusty encyclopedias this time, corroborating the basis of your thesis. A new work you haven’t seen is cited in the back, piquing your interest for more evidence.

Instead of bothering one of the staff, you use the library website and find it in their catalog. It’s somewhere on the second floor where Yoongi offers free coffee. Two birds, one stone; a new book and a new cup of coffee.

The layout resembles all the other floors. A collection of study tables in the center crowded by bookshelves on all sides. One person, an undergrad by the look of pure dread on their features, occupies a table but that's it. Glancing at the note with the call number, you start towards the stacks on the left.

You find the correct area, eyes scanning up and down the different shelves to no avail. Hundreds of books, different sizes in an array of colors, flash by but none are the one you need. You’re about to call it quits when you spot it on the top shelf, just out of reach.

Call it a moment of stupidity, a brief blight of recklessness, but the book sits only a few inches beyond your fingers. You look around to make sure no one is around to witness the brilliantly flawed idea crest in your brain. With the coast clear, you hoist yourself up the shelf.

A deadpan voice nearly makes you fall.

“Looking for something?”

Yoongi stands a few feet away, head cocked to the side. Of course he’d find you in such a ridiculous position. Even through the blur of your peripheral vision, the harsh lines of his usual uniform clashes against the back drop of books. Dark jeans fitted over his thighs, dark button down rolled up his arms, and a pair of glasses that make him look hot. But you’re in no position to dwell when the risk of falling on your ass is so high.

“Nope, just getting in some exercise” you grunt, moving your foot to the shallow hold of the next shelf.

Yoongi moseys up behind you before continuing. “And climbing a decades old bookshelf is how you stretch your legs?”

“You smoke cigarettes, I climb old furniture. We all have our vices.”

Your foot slips from its perch, making you squeak before catching your balance.

“Alright spider-monkey, that's enough.” His hands slide across your hip, fingers curved around the softest part of your waist as he helps you down.

Distracted by the weight of him still on your hip, the heat of his chest a scorching across your back, you don’t even think to disparage him for the cheap Twilight reference. The few inches Yoongi has on you allows him to reach overhead to snag the copy you need with ease. But as you watch his hands close around the spine everything beyond fades to black; like the universe pinholes where you two stand.

“This one?” You feel the vibration of his words up and down your spine, warm breath tracing across the shell of your ear.

Body on autopilot, you turn to face Yoongi. His mouth moves, eyes scanning the book cover but every word deafens in a muddy haze. He doesn’t seem to realize his hand is still on your waist, or how he crowds you into the shelves; chest to chest, stomachs barely an inch apart.

“Huh?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from his mouth.

“I said, if you asked for this book earlier I could have gotten it for you.”

“Oh.”

“You okay?” he asks, stepping further into you. “You look a little flushed.”

The bastard smiles. A God’s honest smile like his thigh isn’t between your own, or he isn’t waiting for a reply while his fingers dig in beneath your ribs.

Just when you open your mouth to say something, Yoongi silences you with a firm squeeze of his hand. His head lowers until his breath ghosts along your chin.

Then you’re kissing; lips sliding together easily like he anticipated it. The world shatters all around from just a few passes of his mouth across your own, the weight of his body flattening you against the bookshelf.

The first hint of his tongue against the seam of your lips makes you gasp and Yoongi takes the opportunity to taste you. You melt under his attention. Head tipping back, shoulders bowing to take more, your senses flood with the remnants of coffee and something else; something so quintessential Yoongi your head spins. It lights a new flame in your veins, one burning with pure want.

A handful of his shirt pulls him closer. Yoongi follows easily but gets more than asked for when one of your hands tangles in the back of his hair, tugging until he’s tilting his chin the way you want. It’s a bad habit other dates have subtly complained about but a noise bubbles in his throat at the dig of your nails; responding with his own palm squeezing roughly across your ass until your hips meet his.

The crash of the book near your feet is like a bucket of ice water.

“Oh my god,” you gasp. Jumping back proves futile as the shelf digs further into your spine. “I–”

Puffy lips and lowered eyes stare back at you, clear evidence that you haven’t hallucinated what just happened. Yoongi dips down to kiss you again but you slither out of his grip.

Forgetting the book on the tiled floor, you mumble an apology and flee back upstairs, beelining to the vacant restroom.

To your own mortification, your features mirror Yoongi’s; lips swollen, eyes glazed. Your sweater twisted around your torso clearly betraying your rendezvous in the stacks. Beads of sweat cling to your forehead and neck.

A few splashes of cold water help clear the fog in your brain but as it dissipates embarrassment sets in. Making out with a handsome man is one thing. Making out with the librarian assisting in the most important work of your life is an entirely different ordeal; one that can only spell trouble.

Pacing back and forth, the cool paper towel on the back of your neck helps calm your racing heart enough to leave the safety of the ladies room.

Try as you might to drown under piles of books, it’s useless. You pretend to read the same passages over and over but none of the words register. The kiss replays over and over and over again. You kissed Yoongi. Yoongi kissed you back. He tried to kiss you again when you pulled away.

The end of the day inevitably comes which means you have to face him whether you want to or not. But you won’t allow a single lapse of judgment to affect your work; a moment of weakness propelled by months of abstinence that just so happened to coincide with a surly librarian’s entrance into your life. You just needed to get it out of your system. If it hadn’t been Yoongi it would have been someone else.

At least that’s what you tell yourself.

A glance at your watch informs you that today is the second day you’ll leave the library early. Rather than give into the stubborn instinct to stay, you decide putting as much distance between yourself and Yoongi is far better for your mental health. With squared shoulders and a raised chin, you head downstairs.

Yoongi’s waiting behind the counter. He isn’t typing on his computer or scanning books. He watches every step you take, arms crossed in front as he leans forward like he’s eager for a confrontation.

“Yoongi,” you say.

“Y/N.”

You use every fiber of will to maintain eye contact as you pass your stack over the counter. “I’ll need these same ones tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He nods. “And the kiss?”

“What kiss?” you croak.

Yoongi’s eyes blaze like you’re a new puzzle to be solved, like he wants to take you apart and find exactly what makes you tick. You feel naked. “The one where you—”

“Must have been someone else. Sorry. Have a good night!” You rush for the door before he can say another word.

Another morning is another day in the library, but this time your roommate begs to tag along.

“Look, I’m not getting anything done on my thesis so maybe you’ll rub off on me,” Taehyung says.

Rolling your eyes, you step through the door he holds open. “I think you’ve had plenty of people rub off on you.”

Gasping with fake indignation, he catches up easily. “Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Is that him?”

Yoongi and Jungkook are talking behind the counter. Jungkook’s hands wave wildly as he recounts whatever information to his boss while Yoongi listens with fake interest. Or that's what someone else might think. The subtle signs he cares are hidden in the details; the miniscule lift of shoulders, a cock of his head, and when Jungkook pouts in a way too ridiculous for a man his size, Yoongi hides a smile in the shake of his head.

“Yes.”

“And I’m the slut?” Taehyung scowls as you pinch his shoulder. “What? He’s a nerd’s walking wet dream.”

“And he can hear you, so shut up.”

“Morning!” Jungkook calls on his way past with a cart full of books.

He grins like he knows exactly what happened on the second floor yesterday but that can’t be true. Yoongi doesn’t seem like the type to kiss and tell. Only the type to kiss and tease you relentlessly for it when no one else is around to hear.

Taehyung’s attention immediately locks on him. You love your roommate, always have and, unfortunately, always will; but he is a slut and Jungkook is definitely his type. However, he’s on your turf and knows better than to fuck where you have to eat for the next few months.

“Y/N, Y/N’s friend,” Yoongi says when you approach his desk.

“Taehyung.”

“Right,” Yoongi drawls, blinking lazily before sliding your books over and turning around to sort something on the opposite counter.

Taehyung, ever the gentleman, grabs the pile for you and follows upstairs.

“Well he seems like a cup of sunshine,” Taehyung whispers.

“Just because he isn’t fawning over you doesn’t mean he’s an asshole.”

“I’m very fawn-able, ask anyone,” your roommate argues as you approach the fifth floor. “Wait, what's this… How to Defeat Your Own Clone and Other Tips for Surviving the Biotech Revolution. This is the type of shit he’s giving you? You’re easier than I am.”

“Give me that.” You snatch the paperback out of his grip. “Stop being nosy.”

Taehyung lets you work in peace after that, disappearing to gather more of his own materials. Even in undergrad he’d never been one to sit still for long. But he still managed to get a spot doing an engineering thesis despite the constant changes in his attention.

After several hours of mind numbing typing you need a break, and another cup of coffee on someone else’s dime sounds perfect.

“I’m getting coffee.”

“Bring me some,” Taehyung says without looking up from his screen.

The staff lounge is nothing fancy. A couple small tables with plastic chairs tucked around, a cork board covered with fliers, and a white board stuck to the fridge scrawled upon with black dry erase marker. The coffee pot sits full in the machine, still hot to the touch.

You pour two cups. Taehyung’s gets loaded with creamer cups until it’s closer to white than black while yours is sweetened to sickening perfection. When you try to take a sip, the liquid immediately burns your tongue. Too hot coffee is better than cold coffee but an ice cube would help make it more palatable.

Moving back to the fridge, you go to open the freeze but stop when the white board catches your attention again.

Most notes are chores or friendly reminders about time cards but almost half the board is dedicated to a back and forth.

‘Unofficial Employee of the Month: Jungkook’

A note in Yoongi’s tight script: ‘You don’t work here.’

‘That’s why it's unofficial!’ in what must be Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

‘You’re my official employee of the month. - Namjoon’

At the bottom is a crude drawing of stick figures, two tall smiling ones holding hands under a rainbow labeled ‘JK’ and ‘Joon’ and a comically shorter one with evil eyebrows surrounded by storm clouds and ‘yoongi :(’ overhead.

“Snooping for secrets?”

“Jesus Christ,” you jump, turning to face Yoongi. “Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to sneak up on people?”

“You’re in the staff lounge, there’s gonna be staff here.” Yoongi crosses to the coffee pot on the counter and pours himself a cup. He doesn’t add cream or sugar or anything else to lessen the bitterness. Cliche. “So, was bringing your boyfriend here your subtle way of letting me down?”

“You think Taehyung is my boyfriend?” You whirl around in shock. Yoongi raises a brow, prompting you to continue. “Jungkook is more his type than I am.”

Yoongi releases a pleased hum, eyes shining. “So no boyfriend then?”

“Nope.”

You’re shaking but don’t look away from his hungry gaze. Yoongi takes a step closer, and another and one more until you're pinned to the countertop and his mouth is on yours.

This time, you're more aware of everything. The smell of his cologne, the tickle of his bangs along your forehead, all the tiny details that were muffled before. Yoongi’s lips are firm against your own, a little chapped but it only makes you hotter with each pass.

His mouth is everywhere; your chin, your jaw, peppering down your throat until he pushes aside the hem of your shirt and sets to work on the jut of your collarbone like he’ll never get a chance again.

“Yoongi,” you hum on the first rake of teeth.

He takes it as an invitation to dig in harder, sucking the skin until your spine threatens to break and you say his name again. Desperate for some kind of anchor, you knot your fingers back in his hair and pull.

A throaty noise responds and the need to hear more rears its head. Yoongi who always watches with measured fascination undone by some light petting. The power is addictive.

Legs spread, he presses in flat. The heat of his cock, rigid beneath the fabric of his jeans, teases across the seam of your own. You're technically still in public but the consequences concern you less than the knowledge that you’ll go mad if you don’t feel him. His arms circle your back, pulling you firmer against him, right to the edge of the linoleum counter.

Wedging a hand between your bodies, you manage to get his zipper undone while your tongue traces along his jaw. Yoongi angles his hips to help, curling into your palm when you cup him over the fabric of his boxers. Every press has him swelling harder.

His hands reach under your shirt. Skin on skin, the rough calluses of his fingers trace your ribs, thumbs following the cup of your bra in a tease. It’s a simple touch but your own hands falter when he brushes a nipple. You melt into each other.

“Hey, Yoongi, do you know where—HOLY SHIT!”

Jungkook stops at the door, eyes wide, mouth wider.

“Get out!” Yoongi barks. He’s trying his best to keep your body covered from the younger man’s view but even if Jungkook isn’t getting a full frontal he isn’t dumb enough not to realize what’s going on.

Yoongi shudders a few breaths. Head hung low, he tucks himself back into his pants without moving away. You’re already slipping down from your perch when he looks back up.

“I’m just gonna…go,” you mumble, scurrying out the door.

Jungkook waits outside, eyes still bugging out of his head but at least has the decency to pretend he didn’t catch you in the act.

Tugging your shirt down, you avoid his gaze. How far would you have let Yoongi go if Jungkook hadn’t interrupted?

“Coffee?” Taehyung asks as you approach the table.

You know what you look like without a mirror. The same as yesterday with glassy eyes and bruised lips, clothes wrinkled. Thankfully, Taehyung is more interested in his modeling software than where you’ve been.

“They were out.”

With a sigh like he is personally victimized by the lack of caffeine, Taehyung collapses on the table and plays dead. But he perks up at the sound of footsteps approaching behind you.

“You left this in the break room,” Yoongi says, dropping a cup of coffee by your side before disappearing.

You turn to follow his retreating for until he’s hidden back between the shelves. The back of his hair is still messy despite his attempt to fix it, same with the wrinkles in his shirt from your hands.

“I thought they were out?” Taehyung eyes you suspiciously when you look back at him.

Cradling the still hot cup in your hands, you avoid his gaze. “Shut up.”

“So you do have to sleep with someone to get a cup of coffee.”

“I’m not sleeping with him,” you spit in a harsh whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because…”

Because what exactly? There isn’t a good reason other than the fact Jungkook was the king of cockblocks. You would have let Yoongi do just about anything he wanted and he seemed to be in agreement. But you’d rather die than admit that out loud.

“You are so smart and so incredibly stupid.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, rising to pack his things. “I need to pee.”

You point him in the direction of the bathrooms and get back to work.

When Taehyung returns minutes later he starts shoving his things in his bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“This is like the epicenter of hot smart men and I refuse to suffer any longer.”

“You got Jungkook’s number,” you deadpan.

Taehyung can’t hide his own shit eating grin. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

“If you’re leaving, so am I.”

“Why?” your roommate whines.

“Because I got you a hot date and that means you owe me dinner.”

“Technically it was Yoongi but I’ll concede.” Taehyung heaves his bag up. “Come now my dearest, we can still get happy hour if we hurry.”

You reach in your own bag and toss him your keys. “Go wait in the car. I’ve gotta go grab another book real quick.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung says, mumbling something like ‘nerds’ under his breath as he heads downstairs.

You find Yoongi while on your way to his desk, already toting around the cart piled high with returns from the day. Several of the covers are Taehyung’s picks and somehow the knowledge they’ve spoken almost knocks you off kilter. Taehyung is a good wingman and that’s what worries you most.

“Hi,” he says, kneeling to put a book on a low shelf.

It shouldn’t have the effect it does but something about the way Yoongi looks up at you, on his knees, head tipped back, has your mind running wild with the image of him in the same position with both of you wearing far less clothing. Maybe if you weren’t interrupted in the staff lounge you’d have seen it in real life.

“Hi. Mind if I add these to the pile?”

“Go ahead.”

The Stocking was Hung sits on top. You don’t wait around to see his reaction.

The temperature had steadily been increasing over the past weeks but this morning is the worst of all. That inescapable warmth fully seeded overnight and promised the comforting days of sweaters and pants are long gone.

Heat makes you lazy and fitful. In the early hours, long before you actually need to be awake, you stare up at the ceiling of your room. Not even a frigid shower helped the stickiness of your skin or laying still in your bed in nothing but one of Taehyung’s shirts and ratty shorts. It followed you everywhere until you left for the same brick building you spend more time at than at home.

Without thought, you throw on the first seasonally appropriate outfit in your closet; a thin dress that covers enough for the public but promises to keep you cool.

Yoongi seems to be taking the change in weather as well as you are. His usual attire is absent, nothing but a white shirt clinging to his torso. The pale skin of his forearms briefly catches your attention but you focus anywhere else to stop from rounding the desk and finishing what started upstairs.

You steel yourself and approach the desk, determined to act normal.

Familiar dark eyes flash up to greet you but Yoongi’s mouth doesn’t form any words. He just stares at you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulders, your neck, and then he pointedly keeps them trained on your eyes. Like he's willing to pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

He doesn’t speak when he passes over the same pile of books as yesterday but you can feel him burn a hole in your back. Even after you climb up the stairs and out of sight, the prickling sensation you’re being watched follows.

You don’t get anything done. The words on the page might as well be another language as your mind races.

Yoongi didn’t give you an extra book today.

An endless list of potential explanations race through your mind. Maybe you’d been too forward with your choice. Maybe he’s gotten it out of his system, a quick tryst in the employee lounge enough to satiate his curiosity. Maybe because it’s the second time you’ve brushed him off. Even if it wasn’t your fault Jungkook stumbled in before anything worthwhile could happen.

But he isn’t speaking to you and he isn’t giving you the random book you’ve come to look forward to every morning.

Channeling the restless energy of overthinking, you take a lap around the floor. You pause to flip through random books as you zigzag through the stacks. Anything to take your mind off the unshakable tension sticking in the air like syrup.

Your laptop is in sleep mode by the time you reluctantly come back. Everything is as you left except a book you’ve never seen before sits on top of the open one you’d been reading.

There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom.

A sticky note sticks up from the inside of the cover. A bolt of excitement shoots down your spine. When you flip it open a familiar handwriting stares back: ‘on the seventh floor’.

You hadn’t been gone too long but the fear of making him wait has you rushing up the stairs. Each step brings you closer to where he waits until you’re opening the bathroom door.

“Yoongi?”

A hand wraps around your upper arm, yanking you in. Another hand silences a surprised shout before you realize it’s Yoongi and not a murderer pinning you to the interior of the door you just came through.

“Jesus, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he breathes. “It’s just not a good look for me to be up here.”

“Oh, really?” You smile. “And why is that?”

“This is my job.”

“Didn’t seem to stop you before.”

“Who says it’s stopping me now?”

He thumbs the strap of your dress, hooking under the thin material and dragging it down your arm. The heat and weight of Yoongi against you, touching you so simply, makes you vibrate. Yoongi moves into your neck, panting with a grind against your thigh. “I swear I don’t usually do this.”

You want to argue that you have two accounts that he does do this often, at least with you. But for someone who says they don’t, Yoongi is surprisingly natural. The tease prickling the end of your tongue fizzles out under his teeth across the curve of your shoulder, goosebumps blossoming along your back.

A whimper unbecoming of an adult woman breaks the lullaby of summer air conditioner singing through the vents. You’re sweating under the cling of your dress, skin hot to the touch thanks to Yoongi’s attention; long fingers curved around your waist, thumbs skimming just under your breast.

“Could have fooled me.”

“This is a very nice dress.” His mouth bites down your neck, taking advantage of the new strips of skin the neckline unveils.

“That’s all it takes?” you pant from the wet of his tongue. “A pretty dress?”

“If you think,” he whispers into your ear. “I’m doing this because of your dress then you really haven’t been paying attention.”

The dark locks of his hair are too alluring to resist, tempting one of your own hands to scratch against the tip of his spine when Yoongi rolls against you again. A firm tug brings him to your mouth, lips molding to one another in a searing kiss. You can taste the coffee from the lounge and the faintest hint of cigarette smoke, like he thought to hide it before asking you to follow him.

“How long? How long have you wanted this?”

Yoongi hooks one of your thighs higher, savoring the heat of your core against the crotch of his pants with a slow thrust. “Since you came in and busted my balls over not having that archived manuscript when the website said we did.”

You remember that day. Patience thin from Taehyung’s loud overnight guest, you stormed into the library looking to take it out on a photocopy of the manuscript only for the only copy to be AWOL. Yoongi became the surrogate for your rage, his eyes burning into your skull as questioned how he could let it happen.

The next day was when he started adding books to your stack.

“That was months ago.”

“I’m a patient guy.”

You want him naked; ache to catalog what he’s hidden underneath bulky sweaters and loose button ups over the past few months. But that idea has to wait for somewhere less risky. You settle for dipping your hand under his shirt, tracing your fingers over the elastic of his boxers peeking from the waistband of his pants.

Attempting to hide the effect he has, you loop your fingers in his belt loops and pull him even closer so your face is hidden in the crook of his neck. “There’s a Boy in the Girls’ Bathroom? A little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Like The Stocking was Hung is any better?” Yoongi sighs as your mouth ghosts over the rising vein webbing the side of his throat.

“Hey!” you object, rising to face him. “I thought you’d appreciate it after that mothman book.”

“I appreciate you complimenting my dick plenty.”

Yoongi doesn’t let you go, hands palming at the swell of your ass the entire way from the door to the counter. He’s got one hand curved along your jaw, thumb hooked around your chin and his teeth bruising your lower lip. The edge of granite digs in your spine but not for long as he lifts you and settles on his knees to dive under your skirt.

He kisses up your calf, tongue snaking across the knob of your knee then the plush of your thigh. Just when you feel a puff of breath against the damp crotch of your panties, Yoongi falls to repeat the same path against your other leg.

You don’t suffer for long. Pooling the excess fabric around your waist, Yoongi blinks up from between your thighs. The pink of his tongue follows the edge of your panties, wetting the fabric more until it clings obscenely.

He pushes his glasses up to rest on the top of his head, keeping the mess of gray and black hair out of his eyes before diving back down.

His tongue lathers over your covered slit with a groan. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You thought about this?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about it. On my desk, yours, against that fucking bookshelf.” Yoongi punctures each word with more wet kisses against your core. “In my car, my bed. Everywhere.”

A cool breath has your thighs squeezing around his head thanks to the erotic combination of his spit and your own fluids drenching your panties. “Is this all you think about?”

“I had to come up here and jerk off yesterday because I couldn’t stop thinking about your hands.”

Your panties are pulled to the side before you can indulge in the new visual blooming on the edge of consciousness. “Yoongi.”

Eyes closed, his mouth circles your clit, tongue gently stroking you to life. Every pass against the sensitive bundle of nerves has your thighs squeezing around his head.

The first prod of fingers makes Yoongi’s hold on the crook of your knee tighten. He stretches you back open, eyes following the way you suck him inside; coating his spindly digits with more arousal each time.

“A-ah,” you shake. “Please.”

Yoongi chances a glance up at your face, the needy sheen in your eyes, the way your mouth gapes, and decides to take mercy.

He latches back onto your clit. Yoongi groans as you tug his hair, knocking his glasses to the ground. The pace he works your remains lethargic, savoring the kick of your hips until you grind against his mouth.

Throaty groans vibrate against your cunt, tightening the muscles along the inside of your thighs. Neither of you are doing a good job muffling yourselves but if it’s between getting caught and having him stop then you’ll deal with the consequences when they come.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Your chest pulls tight; spurred on by the sounds of Yoongi bullying your insides, his mouth smacking against your folds. “I’m— oh, oh, oh!”

The rough crook of his fingers sends you flying. Only the pressure of his shoulders keep you from slipping off the counter as you explode against his mouth. Euphoria rushes your veins, licks of pleasure overwhelming. Every muscle quivers as Yoongi works you through until you use his hair to pull him away.

He’s quick on his feet. You’re still recovering as Yoongi pushes your bra down and draws one of your nipples into his mouth, licking and sucking until you pull his hair again. Eyes cinched tight, face wet, you force his pants open then his underwear until Yoongi is almost as exposed as you are; pretty in your palm, sticky and hot to the touch.

But it’s not enough to feel him in your hand, you need to feel him inside. To fill you up where you sit hollow and aching without his fingers to provide a sliver of relief. “Fuck me.”

Yoongi doesn’t tease, has no quip about how needy you are. He keeps his mouth on your chest and uses his hands to grab something out of his pocket. It happens so fast you don’t even realize the condom is on until he nudges between your legs.

Your nails dig into his back, breathing through the initial stretch is the only way you stay quiet. Yoongi hides himself back in your neck, strained noises clawing out of his throat.

Yoongi isn’t gentle. Not caution or waiting. Months of push and pull destroy any desire for him to treat you as something fragile. He rushes into desperately, forcing your palm flat against the mirror behind you for some semblance of stability.

“God,” he grunts. “You’re incredible.”

You whimper a quiet acknowledgement, too fucked out to blush under his praise; pulling Yoongi closer until he’s scooping his hands underneath your ass, thrusting into you over and over. His mouth finds yours. Greedy. Hungry.

It’s Yoongi who struggles to stay quiet. Even through the kiss he moans loud enough you feel it in your throat. You listen to them all, twisting the hand knotted in his hair to hear the whine you’ve quickly become obsessed with.

“Should have done this sooner,” your back arches and Yoongi’s mouth slips back down.

“I tried. But you kept ignoring me.”

“I wasn’t—fuck—ignoring you.” Yoongi is everywhere. His taste on your mouth, cologne burned in your nose. The feel of him all over your body. “Shit.”

He fucks you harder to prove a point, hand slipping down to rub your clit. Your second orgasm glows on the edges. If Yoongi keeps playing with you, stretching you in half on his cock and biting a mark into your breast, you know you’ll come.

You focus on breathing. Letting it come to you instead of chasing it, overthinking it to the point it evades you. It’s easier than usual. Yoongi doesn't leave room for anything else beyond feeling good.

“Oh my god,” you whisper as the cord tightens.

Everything turns white hot, pleasure tearing through your muscles and ripping them to shreds. You convulse in Yoongi’s hold, only pinned down by his hips fucking you brutally. Nerves shot, Yoongi babbles praise in your ear but it's indecipherable from the headrush.

Yoongi follows you over the edge a few strokes later, twitching inside you until he stills. His hips give a few arrhythmic bucks as he fills the condom with his load.

There's something nastier about clothed sex. The way sweat makes your clothes cling tighter, the rush of needing each other so badly you can’t be bothered to do more than pull things to the side.

You feel dirty but in a good way. Yoongi kisses across the apples of your cheeks, your chin, your forehead, even your brows, but never returns to your lips. Each leaves you more frustrated than the last, muscles twitching beneath and head turning at the last second to try and meet his mouth.

Tricking you with a brief connection, he laughs when you chase his lips as he dodgers back. But a pout and whine bring him back into your orbit.

He cleans you up with paper towels, wiping away the mess between your thighs with something akin to disappointment. But he doesn’t complain as he fixes your clothes and then his own. Muscles like jelly, you fall into his side when he helps you down from the counter.

With a kiss to your temple, “Let's get out of here.”

“Morning, Yoongi.” You smile as you walk up to his desk.

A set of dark eyes rise to greet you, taking the cup of coffee you so graciously offer before smiling as well. “Good morning.”

Jungkook gawks like he’s never seen you two speak before. Round eyes bounce between you and Yoongi as if it’s a tennis match instead of a normal conversation. Probably because Yoongi was less than subtle when he pulled you out of the building yesterday, telling him to call Namjoon if anything came up.

Or maybe because you’re wearing one of Yoongi’s shirts.

You discovered much about the mysterious librarian overnight. He’d taken you back to his apartment; a perfect extension of himself decorated with dark furniture and more books than anyone could possibly read. Yoongi owned a collection of vinyl records that rivaled his book collection, he was a great cook, and he was studying to take the entrance exam for law school.

After you were wined and dined, Yoongi dedicated hours between your legs. On his couch, against the massive bookcase in his living room, between the sheets of his bed.

He also had a kink for eating you out while you explained your thesis in precise detail.

You’d only been allowed to leave when Yoongi was getting ready for work, not that you'd put up much argument.

You make a scene of sorting through the stack he slides over. It’s not that you don’t trust Yoongi. But now that you’ve had a taste, you’re addicted to his presence. But he unfortunately can’t follow you upstairs so you savor the time now.

“One of my books is missing,” you say.

“Oh, right.”

Yoongi passes over an unfamiliar copy.

Maybe He Just Likes You

And the blue sticky note attached, with his handwriting. ‘Dinner when you're done?’

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @yoonguurt

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #yoongi x reader #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #🫡 highvern

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nickfowlerrr · 20 days ago

Text

with you

part one

pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: 18+ only. established relationship from everybody talks - but can be read as a standalone! feelings of loneliness. some angst. unprotected sex. squirting. use of pet names (sweetheart, doll, baby). dirty talk. heaps and heaps of fluff. if something needs to be tagged, pls lmk!

words: just about 8.5k

notes: a huge thank you to @whatever-lmaoo for beta-ing for me yet again! i appreciate you so much!! and i know, i know, a little late for a halloween fic- but i guess it’s okay bc this isn’t really all that halloweeney lol. honestly a little more personal than usual but i hope you all enjoy it anyway. please let me know what you think and thank you in advance for taking the time to read! 🩵

You’re pushing the basket, weaving your way through the aisles full of other semi last minute shoppers in search of their own Halloween costumes. You can’t get past a family spread out in the middle of the aisle as they contemplate their options aloud, no concern for the other people around them trying to shop. You suppress your eye roll but not the sigh of slight annoyance as you back up and move to the next aisle over, thankfully empty.

There aren’t many options here, but maybe something will give you an idea of what to dress up as. A couple minutes pass as you peruse the random assortment of costume accessories. Your mind is fully in idea mode as you try to piece something wearable together in your mind… you have that black maxi dress hanging in your closet, that could probably work as a good base.

You’re not paying attention to your surroundings as you nudge the basket further down the aisle while you examine two different pairs of long black gloves in your hands and take a step down the aisle to see the witch hats.

But do you really wanna be a witch? You purse your lips in thought before tossing the sets of gloves back into the big green cauldron you got them from. Your eyes linger on the witch section as you grasp the handle of the cart and start to push.

Before you set your head straight, you’re stopped in your path as you find yourself crashing into something. Oh gosh…

Someone.

Your apology is sputtering out past your lips before you can even turn to see the injured party, but once you do, and your eyes meet with sparkling blues, you stop your fumbling and sigh heavily in your relief.

“Oh, thank god,” you breathe as your shoulders relax. “I thought I actually hit someone.”

“Am I not someone?” Bucky scoffs with a hint of a smile on his lips.

“No, you are,” you assure him as you leave the basket and walk toward him, “but you’re my someone, so it’s okay and you have to forgive me.”

“Oh, I see,” he nods, eyeing you in your approach. You double check the aisle is still clear before kissing him, soft and fleeting.

“Did you find it?”

“Out of stock,” he frowns.

“Damn. We’ve looked everywhere, what now?”

“I don’t think ghosts lining the grass are gonna do much more than the full out display you’ve already set up, sweetheart. I think we’ll be okay,” he laughs.

“Yeah,” you sigh, a soft pout still on your lips, “you’re right. I just…”, a tight, heavy sigh leaves you as you shake your head, trailing off.

Bucky steps closer, his hand coming to rest on your waist, squeezing lightly.

“I know,” he says, softly.

You force a smile, taking his hand to hold in yours. “Alright, well, we got the candy and the groceries and the toothpaste,” you list aloud, trying to think if you’re forgetting anything.

“Toilet paper,” Bucky supplies, pushing the cart backwards before turning it to push it himself.

“Toilet paper! Who needs a list when I have you,” you lean into him as you walk before heading to the aisle ahead of him.

—

“Sweetheart?” Bucky calls from the kitchen as you wipe at the stray tear falling down your cheek. You blow your nose gently and close out of the app.

Another post of fall fun your nieces are having, and right below it another post from another costume party you weren’t invited to.

Don't let it get to you, you chide yourself. It's just the fomo sinking in. Nothing more.

You wipe at your cheeks before grabbing the door handle, calling down the stairs, "I'm coming!"

You make your way down the steps and are met at the bottom with Bucky, smiling like a schoolboy.

In his hands he holds a singular Halloween decoration.

"It's not light up ghosts, but,"

"It's perfect," you cut him off, smiling softly as you take the familiar ghost cutout from his hands.

You can't help but grin at the memory of your first Halloween with Bucky. Your first date. First meeting! God, it's been a whirlwind of a year.

Your eyes flicker to his and you immediately meet his stunning gaze; his already set on you.

"Just like you," he simpers.

You groan in jest, setting the cutout to rest along the stairs before you wrap your arms around him, leaning into his warm, solid hold. You sigh as he rubs your back comfortingly.

"Hey," he calls gently, causing you to pick up your head to look at him. "Talk to me. Please," he adds as your pout grows. "You've been off all week, what's going on?"

Your gaze drops to his chest as your arms drop from around him. He doesn't let you slip away as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the couch, pushing you down before he follows suit, wasting no time in getting you back in his hold once you're both comfortable. You let your head rest on his chest as he holds you.

"I miss my family," you say simply with a shrug.

He waits for more, but when he realizes you're done talking, he speaks himself.

"You've been missing them since we moved here," he presses, "I know it's not just that."

You mindlessly play with the buttons on his shirt, not able to make eye contact right now.

You swallow hard.

You know the truth, and you know Bucky deserves to know what you're thinking. After all, he did uproot his entire life for you after only knowing you five months...

"I just...I don't know."

You glance up at him, his eyes soft and gaze patient.

"I... What if this was just a huge mistake?" You ask. "Moving here. Just another stupid, selfish idea that I'm gonna regret by next year."

"Living your life away from your family isn't stupid or selfish," he says, no judgement in his soothing voice. "And, you know what we talked about before we moved here. No regrets. And if you decide you want to go back,"

"We go back," you nod. "I know."

"Well," he starts, "do you?"

"No," you answer right away. It's the truth. You don't. But still, that fear. The unknown, it nips at you. What if? "I knew this wasn't gonna be easy, but," you sigh, "what if I just don't belong here?"

His brows furrow, "Why wouldn't you?"

"It's been, what, seven months? And what do I have to show for it? And it's not just work-" you stop yourself before you start to rambling, taking a deep breath. "I haven't even made a single friend yet. All those sets and events and all those people I've met, and I just. I haven't fit in anywhere. No one...likes me," you trail off so quietly, not really wanting him to hear.

"Sweetheart, that is not true."

"You don't know that, Buck,"

"Oh, and you do?"

"I do. That gig on Monday," you stammer, embarrassed, "it's stupid," you try to brush off, not wanting to have to explain the memory.

He doesn't have to say a word with the look on his face.

You sigh, but continue.

"We were in between takes and everyone was talking, like, to each other in a group. And I was there, but like, I wasn't there. I was standing with everyone else and trying to be...engaging. But," you purse your lips as the embarrassment burns you anew. "And, they were talking about their plans for Halloween, and this girl said she was throwing a party, and she invited everyone, asked for their numbers so she could send them the information, and she got everyone's number. Except for mine. And I was just standing there, like, probably looking so lame," you try to laugh as your eyes sting, "pretending like I didn't notice, nonchalant," you breathe tightly, pulling at a loose thread on the little V of his henley.

"I followed some of the other people online for like, 'connections', ya know, for future work, and one of them posted pictures from the party, and like, everybody from that set was there. And it looked like so much fun. And, you know I don't even like parties," you throw out, "but...why wasn't I invited? Why," you pause, biting your tongue, "why didn't they like me?"

"Baby," Bucky coos, his touch featherlight and yet so stabilizing, "those are just a few people,"

"That wasn't an isolated incident, Bucky. That has been my entire life. I try not to let it bother me, but I try. So hard, I try to be...normal. Likeable. Friendly. And no matter what I do, or how well I think I play the part, I'm just a mess of introversion and social anxiety."

You can see how badly he wants to interrupt you and reassure you of your so-called perfection, but he doesn't. He lets you talk; he wants to hear you.

"You know how many parties I was invited to in school?" you ask rhetorically. "Not a single one. And the people I thought were my friends wer-" you shake your head. "I'd always try to console myself with the thought that it would get better as I got older, but I think...I think it actually hurts more now than it ever did back then. The nerds were friends with the nerds, and the popular kids were friends with the popular kids, and everybody had their group. But even in my 'group', I was just kinda there. Not alone, but alone. Fading into the background. Into the gray."

You sit in quiet for a long moment before continuing.

"But then I'd get home. And I'd be with my sisters, and all of a sudden I wasn't alone. And I was, like, really me. For forever, they were the only people who ever really, truly saw me. Who I was comfortable enough with to be myself," you turn into Bucky further, your hand still on his chest.

"Then I met you," you smile. "And I don't know how or why, but you see me."

"In technicolor," he whispers as he lets his knuckles brush your cheek. You close your eyes at his soft touch, melting further into him.

"I've just been feeling excluded, and then I start missing my sisters even more, and you know I love you, so much, but this job is just constant rejection and it all just piles on and I keep trying to get by without having to dwell on it all, but I know I can't keep doing that. I know I want to be here. And I can do this. It just, gets hard sometimes. And I've been getting in my head. And I'm sorry I haven't talked about it sooner. I don't want it to seem like I regret moving here, and I really don't want it to seem like I'm not so grateful that you're here with me. That you came all this way for me. It means the world; you mean the world to me."

"The feeling is mutual," Bucky simpers, the corner of his lips turning up as he watches you, his hand aimlessly wandering up and down your side. "I'd go anywhere with you, sweetheart. I know it's not the same, but for what it's worth, I like you. I'd want you at every party."

You smile at him as he cuddles you and can't help the fit of laughter that erupts from you as he squeezes you, nuzzling into your neck and peppering kisses along your delicate skin.

You catch your breath as he finally lets up and pulls away, only to lean his face closer to yours, kissing you softly.

"I'm really proud of you, you know. You're a lot stronger, and a lot braver than you give yourself credit for. And anyone would be lucky to be able to have you in their life, let alone to call you their friend. As your best friend, I should know," he adds playfully.

"You're my best friend?"

"And you're mine," he nods, eyes gleaming with that look that sends butterflies a flight in your tummy. Your eyes flick down to his lips for less than a second before he's kissing you again; just as soft, and twice as sweet.

"I love you," he murmurs.

"Iloveyou," you mumble back, just a little dumb from the depth of his kiss. You give yourselves a moment in your shared embrace before you speak again. "Okay," you sigh, "we gotta finish the yard so I can facetime the girls before they head out for trick or treating."

Bucky rolls off the couch before pulling you up after him as you extend your arm expectantly.

You’re surprised as Bucky’s hold doesn’t let up and he tugs you into him. You stare at him, eyes wide and curious.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling bad lately. Whatever you wanna do tonight, and tomorrow,” he emphasizes as you smile demurely, “you got it.”

“Because that wasn’t gonna happen anyway?” You tease, earning a smirk from him as you reach for his hand to drag him to the front of the house.

You pause in your path and spin to go grab your favorite little ghost decoration from the steps.

“I know exactly where this is going.”

—

The familiar ring of the Facetime call has you growing more and more giddy with anticipation as you wait your sister's answer.

But the longer you wait, the more fallen your smile becomes.

Your FaceTime isn't answered, but not too long after, your phone dings with a text.

The girls went trick or treating early, no connection. Sorry! Try to call you back later. But send pics of the yard whenever! We need to see!

You deflate at the news. You guys had planned this, they knew how excited you were to show the girls the house yourself - or as close as you could get. Stuff happens, and by now you've come to accept that when it comes to kids, plans rarely ever play out the way you'd like. But still.

You sigh as Bucky watches you intently, noticing your shift in mood instantly. You can already see how the rest of the night will go. They'll get back from trick or treating and try to call, but you'll inevitably miss it, and once you do get another moment to call back, the girls will already be asleep. Pics will be it.

And that's...okay. You're disappointed, of course, but really, it's okay. You’re sure had you not talked to Bucky about how you’d been feeling lately, you’d be in tears right about now. But having gotten some of your frustration and anxiety out has helped. Just being around him has helped. You didn’t realize before that you’d been in and out of the house all week with classes and work and now that you think about it, this is the first day you’ve been able to spend actual time with Bucky, too. No wonder you were feeling so isolated.

"Can't talk right now?" Bucky asks as he steps closer to you in the front yard.

"Nope," you pop the 'p'. "Trick or treating early. I'm just gonna send 'em some pictures I guess."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," he tries to comfort you, pulling you into his side as you both look on at the Halloween decorations littering the yard. "I know you wanted to share it with them."

"'S'okay," you smile a small smile, leaning into him. "I still had fun doing this with you. Thank you for your assistance," you add, fluttering your gaze up to meet his.

"Anytime. Anything to see that smile,” he adds, leaning in to place a quick kiss on your cheek, sending warmth through you at the affection.

“Guess we should get the candy ready,” you muse.

“And your costume on.”

“I didn’t pick anything,” you frown. “I don’t really feel like dressing up anyway. Besides,” you turn into him, “all the kids, and moms, are coming to see you,” you nudge him with a smirk on your lips.

He shakes his head, trying to fight his blush as he rolls his eyes at you. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

You laugh at the memory of your first week here; everyday was a new woman coming over under the guise of welcoming the new neighbors to the neighborhood. You knew after the second platter of unexpected cookies that word was spreading fast about a certain super soldier taking up residence in their lovely - and expensive - neighborhood; you had sworn to Bucky you didn’t need to move into a place so big, and a part of you was worried you wouldn’t be able to pull your weight financially if you did, but he swore he would prefer it. You didn’t necessarily believe that was his only reason for wanting to spend more on a nicer place, but how could you argue? Especially after he made it clear that he wouldn’t be accepting any money from you for rent. He let you connect your card for the monthly water bill, but that has been it. And you’re absolutely not complaining! But you don’t know you ever imagined this kind of thing would happen.

Until the very day you moved in, you were constantly thinking you were dreaming. But when you noticed the watchful eyes of the neighbors as you brought your boxes in, you realized it couldn’t be.

This was real.

You couldn’t blame their curiosity, but you could blame their forwardness. The way they fawned over Bucky in front of you - all the while ignoring your eye when they’d come over to introduce themselves - was both irksome and, kind of funny.

You only really started to get annoyed when you noticed how uncomfortable it was making Bucky. At the first sign of his discomfort, you found yourself ushering the door shut with a new, outlandish lie every time. But always thanking them for their treats, of course, as you’d close the door.

It’s been almost seven months since you moved in, and the fascination with Bucky has waned slightly, but has yet to fade completely.

“Never,” you laugh. “But it’s not like it’s a bad thing. You, my love," you take his face in your hands, his stubble rough against your palms, "are very, very handsome,” you murmur. “And mysterious, and brooding to the outside eye. It’s hard to ignore you. You're like a magnet of intrigue. It's sexy.”

“Sexy?” He huffs. “I’m not brooding.”

You scoff, “Hah, I wish you could see your face right now,” you say disbelieving; the irony of his words obvious as the furrow of his brows and his frown cause your lips to twitch in a soft smirk.

He fixes his face at your laugh, eyeing you with that ever familiar glimmer of growing want. His hands cover yours as he walks you back, closer to the house.

"So, you think I'm sexy?" he speaks lowly, his grip on you firm as he slides your hands from his face to his chest, down his thick torso as you watch him - your eyes growing heavy as you watch him. It's like you're in a trance.

Your back suddenly hits the front door and you're snapped out of your state, surprised by the contact and even more by the distance you've walked in what felt like a second.

"Yes," you utter after a second, Bucky pressing closer. "I do." Your fingers flex against his abdomen as he leans into you. His nose brushes yours as he teases you with the prospect of his kiss until the door unexpectedly opens behind you; Bucky having turned the knob with his metal hand from around you.

You gasp at the loss of contact with the door, inching back despite yourself - worrying for a split second you were about to find yourself on your ass. But in the same instant, Bucky's hands are around you, keeping you in place.

"I got you," he reassures you; voice deeper now than it was a second ago.

You can only nod as you’re caught once again in his crystal blue gaze.

You really should expect it when he picks you up, but you gasp anyway at his easy display of strength when he takes you off your feet and carries you inside.

“It’s a good thing you don’t have a costume, actually,” he says as he walks past the couch toward the stairs. “No need for you to be dressed.”

You nearly scream as Bucky bounds up the steps, holding you securely with a grin plastered on his face as you cling to him. Not a second later he’s walking you into the bedroom and setting you down carefully to sit on the bed.

“If we’re handing out candy, I’m gonna need to be dressed,” you point out the obvious, trying your best to not look so flustered as he stands in front of you. Tall, strong, and imposing; his eyes darkened as he holds your gaze. You take in a nervous breath as you look up at him and he takes a step closer. You lean back on your arms and wait for his next move.

Bucky slows gets to his knees before you and just as he reaches for your hips to pull you closer to him - there’s a knock on the front door.

He squeezes his eyes shut in his temporary disappointment, grimacing before he shoots up. “I knew that was gonna happen,” he sighs, earning a breathy laugh from you.

“Already got a better turnout than last year,” you offer despite your own momentary disappointment.

He shakes his head with a soft smile as he takes you in. “Nothing could ever beat the turnout last year,” he says thoughtfully, “not by a long shot.”

You smile softly at his meaning as he turns to head back downstairs and get the door.

You hear him open the kitchen cabinet where the candy bars are and then hear his ‘Happy Halloween’ greeting. By the sounds of it, there must be a group or two of trick or treaters already out there.

You ponder your options for a quick second before deciding to go with your gut. You know he won’t mind having to get the door himself tonight for all the trick or treaters - especially if you’re not dressed to do so yourself.

You open the middle drawer of your dresser and spot the red lingerie set instantly. It is your anniversary after all…

You and Bucky agreed to call November 1st your anniversary, just for celebration sake, but you know the truth.

Your thoughts catch up with you as you quickly strip and mindlessly slide on the lacy underwear and bra.

Your anniversary. Duh! You wondered why you hadn’t seen much of Bucky this week! He’s usually so attentive and when he’s not working on his bike or car or catching up on the many items of his list to read/watch/listen to, he’s wrapped up in you. Retiree life has been good to him, and you’ve never had to vie for his attention or affection. This week though, he has clearly been preoccupied. And now you realize why. He’s up to something…

You drag the stockings up your legs and pray they stay up your thick thighs for long enough as you hear the door downstairs shut. You curse under your breath but are quickly saved by another knock at the door before Bucky even heads back up the steps. You forget looking for the straps that connect the faux garter to the underwear and head for the bathroom to make sure you don’t look insane.

You fix your hair a bit, but the worn look suits the occasion and the slightly smudged liner adds to the sex appeal. You adjust the bra strap on your shoulder and a flicker of a smile forms on your lips. You look good. A renewed sense of giddy finds you as you spin to the door and walk back into the room. You listen for Bucky downstairs and are satisfied as you hear the last “thank you!” from the kids at the door.

You walk out into the hall and stop at the top of the staircase. You can see Bucky from where you stand and he’s able to see you from downstairs, too. You put a hand on the banister, posing just a bit as you wait patiently for him to turn around. You watch as he sets the bowl on the entryway table and turns quickly to get back upstairs.

He stops dead in his tracks the second he spots you. His mouth parting as he stares at your chest, slowly letting his eyes rove over your scantily clad curves and down your legs before he looks back up and meets your wanton gaze. The look of faux innocence playing on your face only riling him up more.

It feels like a play of cat and mouse as you stand at the top of the stairs and he stands at the bottom. His gaze heated, eyes hungry.

“You coming back up or should I meet you down there?” you ask demurely.

He’s cut off from answering you with a new knock on the door. He nearly growls and you could laugh at how differently his experience with trick or treaters - or lack there of - was last year.

Bucky turns back to get the door, putting on a smile as he greets the new group of kids and lets them choose what candy bar they’d like. For his part, he really is happy the neighborhood kids aren’t scared of him here! But at the same time, it’s technically his anniversary; and the love of his life is dressed in nothing more than his favorite lingerie, waiting for him so fucking prettily right up those stairs.

He doesn’t think much before making his decision. The last kid makes their choice and the group is on their way as he shuts the door. He heads into the kitchen, feeling you watch him quizzically. He tears a piece of paper off of the notepad on the counter and gets a sharpie from the kitchen drawer.

PLEASE TAKE ONE

He writes it in all caps and heads back to the door.

You lean more onto the banister to see what he’s doing from where you stand. You raise a brow as he moves the entryway table closer to the door before he opens it and sets it outside with the candy bowl sitting on top of it. That’s one way to do it, you think with a smile tugging at your lips.

Bucky slips the piece of paper under the edge of the bowl so it’s visible and then comes right back inside. He’s coming up the stairs within seconds and heading right for you.

You laugh in surprise as Bucky grabs you by the waist, pulling you close to him. His eyes are heavy as his hands squeeze you, wandering your curves. You almost moan when he grabs your ass, pulling you into him fully as you brace against his solid chest.

You’ll never get over how good it feels to be felt by him. His strength evident in his every touch, and yet so soft as he caresses you. His lips ghost your cheek and your ear as he breathes you in and you arch into him, wanting - needing more.

His fingers begin to play with the lace of your bra band, tickling you as he does. “My favorite,” he husks lowly, kissing your neck and sending a shiver through you as you pull at his shirt. “Special occasion?” he asks with a smirk.

Your hands find the waist of his pants, “None that I can think of,” you pretend to ponder.

You moan into him as Bucky suddenly kisses you hard. What you expect to be hot and fervent slows to something deeper and more intimate as you melt into him.

You inevitably have to pull away for air after a bit and murmur against his lips as he holds you, “Oh, right,” you breathe, “we have our anniversary.”

“Thought you wanted to call it tomorrow,” he smiles.

You lick your lip lightly with a shrug, “Couldn’t wait.”

His answer is another searing kiss as he walks you back toward the room. You’re pushed onto the bed and find yourself in the same position you were earlier, leaning back on your hands as you watch Bucky watching you.

He reaches down with one hand and undoes his belt effortlessly, popping his button and sliding down the zipper before he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, kicking off his boots right after. His pants are next before he closes in on you, crawling on top of you as you lay back on the bed, eyes still locked and dark with your mutual desire.

His hands trail from your hips, up the curve of your waist as he positions himself between your spread thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you as he lets his eyes wander your body once more. He leans down and earns a breathy gasp from you as he starts placing soft kisses down your neck, your chest, over the tops of your breasts before he takes hold of the clasp of the bra sitting on your sternum.

He undoes it easy and pushes the cups to the side, revealing you to him. You sit up a bit to shimmy out of the garment and throw it off the bed. His large hands hold your breasts and he plays with you, squeezing and running his thumbs over your already peaked nipples - earning a pathetic mewl from you at the sensation it send through you. His lips wrap around your tit, tongue swirling around your sensitive nipple as he sucks at you, sending your eyes back and your hands grasping his grown out hair. Your lips parting in a silent gasp.

He licks and sucks at your tit, big hand playing with the other until he switches his attentions. All the while, your moans and tugs at his hair have him growing impossibly harder as his cock strains against his briefs.

He mindlessly grinds his hips against you and you whimper. “Please, Bucky,” you whine, trying to roll your hips against him in turn.

He sucks a little more on your tit before he moves down your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. You’re partly surprised he listened to your ambiguous plea without teasing you just a little longer, but as his fingers pull at the band of your underwear, you realize he’s just as desperate as you.

It has been a long week; the longest you’ve gone without each other in the year you’ve been together.

Bucky pulls away to rid himself of his briefs, his thick cock hard and angry. You can practically feel your mouth salivate as the slickness between your thighs grows. Fuck, he’s perfect.

“Need it, Buck. Need you,” you plead, spreading your thighs even further as he leans back into you.

“I know, sweetheart,” he teases his cock head along your slit, “gonna give it to you, baby. Gonna give you what you need,” he promises.

He lines himself up to your entrance, pushing his tip just inside of you as you moan on a heavy breath.

You hum your pleasure, a delighted smile gracing your lips as he slowly pushes further in; his deep, heady breaths turning you on even more as his hands grip your hips.

“Feel good, doll?” He husks. “You’re squeezin’ me so tight,” he grunts. “Perfect fuckin fit,” he grits through his clenched jaw as he fucks you, his thickness stretching you with every thrust of his cock. Your walls clench his length as you moan - the feeling of being full of him, of his heavy balls slapping against your skin, the way his dirty words always set you off more than you’d ever expect… This is pure fucking heaven. You can’t help yourself. It's not very long before you find yourself already feeling so dangerously close to your undoing.

“Like you were made for me,” he growls, “made to take my fat fuckin cock just. like. this.” He punctuates each of his last few words with a hard thrust, hitting so deep you swear you’re seeing stars. You can do nothing but babble your agreement as your hands wander his body, one wandering back into the dark strands of his hair.

As much as you love holding him, you know how much he likes the feeling of you tugging at his growing strands, too; so you do just that.

His lips brush along your jaw as you tilt your head for him. His stubble tickling you in the best way.

“Never gonna get over how fucking good you feel wrapped around me. How goddamn beautiful you look under me. Fucked out and cock drunk the minute I get my dick inside your tight little pussy. Always so fucking wet for me, desperate for it.”

You swear you’re on the verge of tears as the coil in your tummy tightens more and more with his every word. Your legs are around him as he rolls his hips into you, his cock brushing all the right spots as he finds your lips. You’re moaning into his hot mouth as he kisses you. In sharp contrast to his words, it’s soft and sweet, his nose rubbing against yours as he moves his tongue expertly. His teeth gently nip at your lips as he pulls his face away for a second before pressing his forehead to yours. His hands are tight on your hips as he tries to control himself from getting carried away. A week is just too long and you’re both already reaching closer and closer to your ends.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groans, sounding almost pained as his eyes squeeze shut, his thrusts growing the slightest bit erratic as you feel him tense above you.

“Come inside me,” you beg on a whimper. “Please, please,” you mewl. “Wanna feel you. Need it.”

The growl of curses that leave him as he fucks you deeper have your muscles tensing, your velvety walls clenching down around his length as the hair on his pelvis stimulates your sensitive clit with every roll of his hips. You’re a mess of moans and heady gasps as you cling to him, your body tight in the impossibly building pleasure as your toes curl and that coil finally snaps; white hot heat and sparks of overwhelming pleasure taking over you as you cum.

“Fuck,” Bucky moans, “that’s it, baby. So fuckin’ good. Look at you, so pretty coming for me,” he kisses you sloppily as your skin burns and your pussy flutters.

Your orgasm seems never ending as Bucky works you through it. His hands grasp at you, feeling your softness and bringing him closer to his own orgasm as your walls squeeze his cock while you cum.

His lips press to yours as he swallows your wanton sounds, kissing you hotly before licking into your mouth sensually. He keeps one hand on your hip to hold you where he needs you and brings the other to hold your face. He can’t get enough of your lips, your kiss, your taste. All the while rocking his hips into yours, his cock moving in and out of your slick, tight hole.

The pulsing of your sensitive walls around his length finally have him cumming hard. His seed hot and thick, spurting along your walls as he fills you up. Your name is both a curse and a prayer as it falls from his lips amidst sweet praises and filthy words. You’re panting and smiling through the growing overstimulation as Bucky’s thrusts slow but don’t completely stop just yet. His thumb brushes your cheek as he presses his forehead to yours again, his brilliant blue eyes glued to you before he leans in to brush his lips against yours.

You kiss him back, holding him to you with a hand still in his hair. Your kiss grows deeper as he thrust just once or twice more before stilling; his lips so soft as he slowly pulls away, breathing heavily.

He hisses so quietly you almost don’t hear it while he slides out of you at last, leaving you a dripping mess in his wake.

You stare at him as he looks entranced by the sight of your orgasms smeared all over you. You take a sharp breath as he gingerly brings two fingers to your cunt, slipping inside you easily and fucking what he can of his excess back into you. You expect him to stop but he just doesn’t.

He works his thick digits in and out, his mouth parted open and his eyes set on the way you suck him in so easily. You whine at the building pressure as he finger fucks you, already too close to another orgasm. Your hand is holding his strong arm as your eyes threaten to roll back.

“Bucky,” you whimper, “fuck, I’m gonna come again.”

Your words spur him on as he moves more precisely, hitting exactly where he knows you need him to. With his free hand, he brings his thumb to your clit and rubs in tight circles as your voice peaks and your legs shake. You’re nearly blinded by the orgasm as it hits you and the sound of Bucky cursing makes its way to your ears. You weren’t expecting it but as Bucky shakes his fingers inside you, prolonging your high like it’s the only thing in the world he’s concerned with - your pleasure, you - you realize you’re practically gushing as you squirt all over his fingers. You hear his voice but not his words as Bucky talks you through it.

It’s not the first time you’ve come so hard at his whim, but fuck, you’re exhausted as you slowly come down. You whimpered despite yourself as you open your eyes and Bucky gently slips out of you. He leans over you again as you gaze dizzily at him before he kisses you delicately.

“Did so good, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your skin, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek before he gets up off the bed completely.

You lie there, trying to recoup and catch your breath until he comes back not long after, a pair of his sweats low on his hips and a damp cloth in his hand, a glass of water in the other.

He sets the glass down on the bedside table before tending to you. He wipes gently at the mess between your legs, cleaning you up with the warm cloth before discarding it with the clothes and coming to sit next to where you lay.

“You okay?” He asks, that ever present concern evident in his voice as his hands gently start to wander your soft body.

You smile and nod at him, taking one of his hands in yours. “Better than okay,” you simper. “Was not expecting that,” you add, “but god.” You sit up and cling to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “That’s one way to celebrate a year.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he laughs, turning to stand and pull you off the bed with him, “that wasn’t even the celebration.”

You smile and walk slowly to the closet to grab a night shirt, slipping it on before grabbing a pair of panties from your drawer. “I knew you were planning something,” you eye him playfully, coming up to wrap your arms around him.

He smirks, hugging you back for a second before just deciding to lift you up. “You get so cuddly after sex,” he laughs.

“Me?!” you laugh out, hugging onto him as he walks toward the door of your bedroom, “take a look in the mirror, buddy.”

“Fine,” he agrees, starting down the steps, “you’re right, we both do.”

“That’s just good compatibility,” you muse as he walks you into the den.

“Great compatibility,” he one ups. “It’s almost like,” he pauses a second, setting you down on the oversized sleeper chaise before he leans down to you, “we were made for each other.”

You lean up to meet his lips in a quick, gentle kiss. “Yeah,” you agree softly, a smile beginning to form on your lips. You bite your lip as you watch him go back out toward the front living room. He peeks out the window to make sure no one’s out there before he opens the door.

There's a pause as he takes in the scene outside...or lack thereof. “The candy’s gone!” He yells to you in disbelief.

You can’t help your snicker as he turns to look at you across the way, empty bowl in hand. He waves it, still seeming in shock; like this possibility never crossed his mind.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you laugh, “but good thing you have like twelve more cases,” you remind him. He licks his lips as he stares at the empty bowl, shaking his head slightly. A second later, you see his brow raise as he starts to straighten up, but you aren't sure what he's reacting to until you hear her voice.

“Trick or treat,” a sultry voice comes from behind Bucky as he still stands at the open door. His eyes widen before he sighs, slowly turning to face the most persistent of his neighborly admirers.

You quirk a brow at her lack of company and strain to hear better.

“Sorry to bother,” she smiles, eyes dragging down Bucky’s solid - still shirtless - chest before she manages to rein herself in and snap her gaze back up to his. “I’m in the middle of mixing up some cookie dough but I ran out of flour. Paul and Michael are busy running their fun house or I’d have them go grab me a bag. Do you think you’d be able to lend me a cup?” You are slightly irked at the change of tone in her last question. She sounds flirty and though Bucky is mostly blocking her from your view, from what you can see, it seems like she’s leaning in closer to him. “We just had a rush of trick or treaters but it’s so quiet around here now. Paul’s so preoccupied with that set up though, I don’t even think he’d notice if I went missing,” she laughs, her toothy grin rubbing you the wrong way as her lashes flutter.

“Uh,” Bucky clears his throat awkwardly, “yeah, we probably have some flour we can spare. Give me a minute.”

“Oh, yo-“ she takes a step forward with her words but is cut off by the closing of the door.

You get up with a tilt of your head and follow Bucky into the kitchen quickly. “Did she just hit on you?” you ask incredulously.

Bucky eyes you as he sets the empty bowl on the counter and walks to the cabinet. “I could see how you could think that,” he avoids a real answer through his embarrassment.

You huff a laugh, walking to the drawer you keep the measuring cups in, grabbing the cup, smirking. “She is somethin’ else.” You sidle up to Bucky as he opens the jar of flour. You lean into him, holding out the cup for him to take, “But, I guess, who can blame her? You know what they say, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”

Bucky chuckles with a roll of his eyes as he grabs it from you, scooping up the cup of flour. You’re confused as he tries to hand the cup back to you.

“What?”

“Go give it to her,” he nudges you.

“I’m not wearing pants,” you state the obvious.

“I don’t have a shirt on,” he argues.

“She already saw you,” you nudge him back with a titter.

“Please,” he breathes a light laugh, but you see the seriousness of his request in his eyes. His discomfort is evident, and you don’t know how you didn’t recognize it earlier.

You don’t know everything he went through, but you know enough to know how important Bucky’s privacy is to him - and that includes physically. He is the only one who should be able to decide who sees him, when, and how much of him they see. Of course, no one should be treated like an object, but you get the feeling it can feel a lot worse for Bucky than it can for the typical person.

You take the cup with a soft smile, “Okay, yeah,” you acquiesce. “You should open another box while you’re at it,” you nod toward the cabinet where the boxes of candy bars are before turning around to get the door.

You open it with a smile, trying to hide your bare legs with the door as you hold out the cup of flour. “There you go,” you offer.

“Oh! I didn’t, ha-“ she laughs lightly, “didn’t even realize you were home.” She looks down, moving some hair behind her ears before she reaches for the cup.

You smile brighter as you take a step from behind the door. “Yeah,” you say simply. What the hell does she mean she didn't think you were home?

“Well, thank you,” she smiles tightly, trying to not look at your bare legs. The implication of your and Bucky’s lack of clothing, his messed hair, and your smudged makeup all hanging in the air. “Happy Halloween,” she adds before turning around and heading back down the path.

“Mhm, Happy Halloween,” you return before shutting the door. Unbelievable. But you know you have less than nothing to worry about, so you let it go. Hopefully this interaction will finally be the one to get her off of Bucky's back.

You spin around and find Bucky behind you, eyes having been set on your ass as he holds the newly filled bowl of candy. His eyes shoot up to meet yours as you deprive him of the view. That heated gaze back in his ice blue eyes as he trails up and down your body again.

“See something you like?” You ask teasingly, popping a hip as you cross one leg in front of the other.

“Not something,” he swipes his tongue against his bottom lip unthinking, “everything.”

You go closer to him, a soft, flattered smile in place as you take the bowl of candy from him. “Why don’t you go pick a movie, and I’ll start on dinner in a minute.”

“I already ordered delivery, should be here in about half an hour.”

“Oh?” you raise a brow, reaching back to the door to put out the candy again.

“Mhm,” he hums, his hand in his pocket as he leans, watching you as you close the door shut and turn back to him.

“I thought you said we’d do whatever I wanna do tonight?”

“‘M sorry, doll,” he reaches a hand to you that you take, letting him tug you into him and walk you back into the den. “What do you wanna do?”

You try to bite down your smile as you get to the chaise, Bucky turning to look at you as he waits for your answer. You take the opportunity to slowly push him back, essentially guiding him down as your push had no real physical effect. He watches you with curious, patient eyes as he lets you lead until you bring yourself up to straddle him; his gaze darkening instantly as his hands find your waist, slowly feeling you down, fingers kneading your soft, plushy curves as he wanders down your hips, making his way to grabbing your ass.

You settle a little more comfortably on top of him, your hands on his chest before letting your fingers dance all over his thick torso. You smile, letting yourself answer simply and honestly.

“You.”

—

You’re cuddled up to Bucky as you lay on the chaise, bellies full and feeling satiated and satisfied - in every way. The blanket keeps you warm, but being this close to Bucky keeps you even warmer. You’ve run out of candy, and the porch lights are out as the Halloween classic plays on the screen before you - volume low as you and Bucky talk more than you watch the film.

“It’s kinda crazy when you think about it,” you say. “We’ve been together for essentially the entire time we’ve known each other. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten tired of me yet,” you laugh a little at yourself.

He looks you deep in the eye, a confused half smile on his lips as his brows furrow ever so slightly. “How could I ever get tired of you? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, doll.”

You are taken aback, despite the commonplace of his adamant affection and feelings, at the intense sincerity of his words, the way he’s looking at you. Like he sees you.

Really see you.

Because he does. And somehow, for whatever reason…

“I love you,” he whispers, completing your thought without knowing it as he leans in to kiss you. Your noses brush as he kisses you softly, slow and delicate before it grows just that much deeper. You slow again and with a few lighter kisses, finally part to breathe properly, though you never leave his embrace.

“I’ve had a year with you,” he speaks softly, running his fingers up and down your arm, “and it’s been one of the best years of my life,” he measures his words before finishing his thought as you gaze up at him, “because of you. And I think I’m gonna need a lifetime more,” he decides, “at least.”

You can’t help your smile at his words as you nuzzle into him. “A lifetime, huh? ...I think I could be okay with that,” you say lowly, a teasing tone edging in your words.

You know you’d be okay with that.

Bucky’s heart skips a beat at your agreement and he grows a bit more excited for what he has planned for tomorrow. It all starts with breakfast, and if things go right, it’ll end with one very important question.

“Happy anniversary, Bucky,” you mumble into him as your eyes grow heavy. “I love you. So much. This has been a really perfect night,” you smile softly.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he kisses your head, holding you closer as you slowly drift off in his loving embrace.

Your gentle breathing calms the butterflies in his stomach at the thought of tomorrow. Any nerves can wait until then.

It’s been a year, and now he can’t wait for the rest of his life.

With you.

—-

a/n that no one asked for: thank you so much for reading! getting ahead of this now - there will not be a part three. this took so long to get through and i just can’t commit to any more sequels of anything. 😭 you are, of course, free to head canon what comes next however you’d like! though if you’re curious, in my mind these two get engaged the next day and idk maybe sometime around Christmas they find out they’re pregnant? but babies or no babies, work works out for reader and everything is good and lovely and they make friends and are able to see family more often and blah blah blah they live happily ever after! lol again, thank you very much for reading!🥰 let me know if you enjoyed it, feel free to share your thoughts. <3

#bucky barnes x curvy!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x curvy!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x plus size!reader

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