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honeyhotteoks · 8 months

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lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page.

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content.

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath.

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it.

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face.

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you.

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today.

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more.

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page.

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess.

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative.

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry.

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through.

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt.

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs.

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already.

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson.

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement.

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’.

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him.

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,”

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat.

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,”

Your breath comes a little more quickly.

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,”

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him.

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?”

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand.

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,”

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already.

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling.

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?”

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait.

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?”

You smile again.

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?”

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot.

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.”

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open.

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,”

Your chest thumps hard.

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.”

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention.

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?”

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady.

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen.

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions.

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?”

Fuck.

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,”

“Fuck,” You whisper.

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,”

You’re nodding again.

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.”

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs.

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due.

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,”

Your legs spread a little wider.

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants.

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing.

You love him like this.

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,”

You pull it back reluctantly.

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,”

You comply immediately.

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,”

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone.

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,”

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear.

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,”

Your breath catches.

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,”

A moan bubbles up out of you.

“Hands off.”

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind.

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,”

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next.

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,”

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause.

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,”

You follow his instructions.

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,”

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot.

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?”

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting.

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest.

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,”

You don’t have to be told twice.

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,”

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to.

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,”

Pleasure rocks in your gut.

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,”

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it.

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,”

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling.

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?”

Pressure drops in your belly.

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,”

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back.

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.”

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful.

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you.

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,”

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can.

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,”

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,”

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel.

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,”

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere.

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,”

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot.

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,”

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over.

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,”

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you.

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes.

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,”

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you.

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.”

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you.

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,”

You blush again.

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,”

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling.

You are so, so fucked.

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat.

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post.

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company.

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit.

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day.

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five?

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall.

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries.

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention.

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now.

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone.

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here.

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning.

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering.

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby?

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found.

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?”

You’re frozen.

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows.

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,”

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,”

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks.

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?”

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,”

“Iced or hot?” He asks.

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me?

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,”

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,”

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed.

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest.

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line.

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,”

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?”

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,”

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”

You shake your head, “No, first time,”

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head.

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,”

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,”

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?”

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,”

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer.

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,”

Blush creeps up your neck.

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head.

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.”

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?”

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up.

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,”

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,”

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,”

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age.

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella.

“Seven,”

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow,” You nod.

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,”

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,”

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.”

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,”

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,”

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!”

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,”

“See you again,”

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer.

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account.

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual.

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home.

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening.

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos.

He’s lovely.

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something.

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table.

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?”

“The train,” You glance outside.

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,”

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,”

“Oh,”

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?”

Flirting, then.

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?”

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,”

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block.

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits.

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles.

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns.

Do you tell him? Do you lie?

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t.

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking.

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts.

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.”

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?”

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes.

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,”

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,”

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?”

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,”

“Recognized me?”

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,”

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,”

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down.

It was so, so nice while it lasted.

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,”

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,”

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,”

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,”

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire.

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,”

“Undrinkable?” You blink.

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,”

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?”

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,”

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait.

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you.

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,”

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly.

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?”

“No,” You tell him firmly.

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you.

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,”

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,”

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,”

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.”

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you.

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,”

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,”

“Oh,” You soften.

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious.

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,”

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,”

“Right,” You murmur.

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,”

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting.

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.”

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking.

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,”

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,”

You wait, your stomach in knots.

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks.

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,”

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.”

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,”

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues.

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,”

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.”

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes.

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,”

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening.

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,”

A small smile appears on his lips.

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,”

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,”

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?”

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,”

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,”

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?”

You nod again.

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?”

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much.

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.”

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,”

You nod.

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him.

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,”

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words.

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.”

He nods once, his shoulders tense again.

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,”

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks.

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,”

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.”

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.”

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks.

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,”

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?”

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,”

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe.

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday.

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air.

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?”

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,”

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.”

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again.

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?”

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too.

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,”

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,”

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him.

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,”

“Right,” You blush darker.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?”

You nod quickly.

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.”

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time.

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.”

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs.

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,”

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,”

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?”

You nod.

“And the roleplay?” He asks.

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,”

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips.

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,”

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?”

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,”

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater.

“Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,”

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan.

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,”

The button opens.

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,”

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?”

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons.

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead.

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,”

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,”

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly.

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,”

You nod, “So good,”

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,”

You’re close.

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,”

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right.

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,”

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,”

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,”

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,”

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips.

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,”

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,”

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming.

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,”

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple.

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,”

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge.

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,”

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move.

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,”

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise.

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,”

You shiver, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,”

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile.

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,”

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes.

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,”

“So come inside me,” You smile.

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,”

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,”

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,”

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,”

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,”

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions.

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,”

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh.

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,”

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?”

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit.

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands.

“Yes,” You answer quickly.

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, “but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,”

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,”

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real.

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real.

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?”

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,”

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble.

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body.

“Soon,” He promises.

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit.

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,”

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,”

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,”

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,”

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something.

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor.

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,”

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,”

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,”

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,”

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight.

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks.

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?”

You nod, still trying to catch your breath.

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,”

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,”

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,”

“It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,”

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,”

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,”

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,”

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,”

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up.

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,”

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes.

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss.

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,”

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,”

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss.

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,”

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs.

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you.

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,”

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?”

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,”

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs.

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you.

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants.

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?”

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet.

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly.

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he.

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,”

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed.

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,”

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him.

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,”

You nod.

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,”

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire.

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs.

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you.

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,”

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,”

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open.

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust.

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress.

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low.

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you.

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,”

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins.

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?”

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,”

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,”

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him.

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?”

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,”

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,”

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll.

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips.

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,”

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer.

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?”

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together.

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,”

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan.

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,”

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself.

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,”

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,”

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively.

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you.

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side.

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?”

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion.

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you.

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,”

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,”

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly.

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little.

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock.

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,”

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,”

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,”

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,”

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,”

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now.

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,”

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,”

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,”

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,”

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips.

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,”

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet.

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed.

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble.

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,”

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good.

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours.

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,”

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,”

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly.

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,”

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling.

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,”

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge.

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock.

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?”

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,”

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest.

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,”

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together.

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees.

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment.

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open.

“Hey,” He murmurs.

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,”

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands.

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you.

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?”

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,”

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise.

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,”

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,”

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?”

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones.

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water.

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam.

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you.

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all.

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip.

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap.

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,”

You look up from the rippling water.

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks.

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,”

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.”

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand.

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.”

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together.

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?”

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little.

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,”

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,”

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back.

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,”

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly.

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,”

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,”

“You like me,” You peck his lips.

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,”

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez #yeosang ff #yeosang fic #yeosang smut

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youraverageaemondsimp · 3 months

Text

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

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lcriedlastnight · 3 months

Note

Accidentally saying I love you with Lando

tysm for your request anon, i appreciate it so much! p.s lando deserved that win today. max verstappen i am inside your walls.

tw: fem!reader, short and sweet, swears, lmk if there's anything you want me to add.

w/c: 1k

you and were a newer thing. you weren't new new, but new enough that you have not said those three little words to each other yet. you knew you loved lando since the third date, when even though he didn't like seafood, literally couldn't even stand being near the stuff, he took you to a sushi restaurant because you had never tried sushi and you wanted to give it a go. turns out you didn't like it either.

there had been a few times where you had almost let the words slip out your mouth but you had managed to bite your tongue at the last second. you would tell him when you were ready and when the time felt right.

lando was currently in spain for the spanish grand prix and this one was difficult. it was only the first race out of the three in the triple header and yet here you were, laying in yours and lando's shared bed, on facetime to him, close to tears. just seeing his face made you miss him more.

"come on honey, don't cry. don't do this to me. i don't want to watch you cry." lando frowns from his own hotel bed, the sheets too white compared to his usual ones. the bed too empty without you. you were usually really good with the distance but this was your first triple header with lando. there were double headers but even with those you made it to the last race so it was even less time. this time around you can't even go to one.

you sniffle as you try to stop your tears. you wipe your eyes with the sleeves of lando's jumper. "i know. i'm sorry. it's not your fault. i just miss you a lot tonight, lan." you express.

you can see lando nodding along with your words as you speak, you know it's not easy on him either. you sigh.

"okay. sorry. we can talk about something else now." you try your best to shake off the sadness. you can always cry when lando hangs up the phone.

"don't apologise, my sweet girl. i know it's hard, i'll try speak to you as much as i can. and i know i'll be busy but i'm back in monaco for the next three tuesdays." lando tried to find a positive in all of this. it was difficult.

you nod, with a hum taking his word into account. "not gonna let go of you for the full night on the tuesdays." you insist with such determination it makes lando's heart melt.

"is that a threat or a promise?" he asks, cheekily. that stupid smirk on his face as he tries his best to make you laugh. it works, not because it's funny but because his smirk always made you laugh.

"promise." you say through giggles. lando laughs along with you until he checks the time on the top of his phone. he sighs as it reads two am.

"m' gonna have to go now, honey. it's gettin' a little late." lando frowns like the words actually hurt him physically to say. you frown too but you understand so you don't put up any fight.

"g'night lan. speak to you tomorrow. i'm not working so call whenever you can i'll keep my day free for you." you bid him goodnight and send him a kiss through the phone screen. lando smiles at your cute gesture.

"night, honey. i'll call you whenever i can. i love you." it is quick but you catch it. lando blows you a kiss then ends the call. you didn't get a chance to say anything back. you don't think he even realises he said it. well he will now he's laying thinking about it. you think to yourself as you settle down on lando's side of the bed and fall asleep.

it's not until he returns home that it's spoken about. you are happy he loves you too and you are even happier that you didn't say it first. you were scared that if you said it first and lando didn't feel the same then he would break up with you. you let your mind carry you away sometimes.

you wait on the couch in your living room for lando to come in. you hear his key in the lock and the rolling of the wheels on his suitcase through the doorway. it makes you giddy but instead of leaping off the couch you stay where you are. lando notices you there and makes his way to you. he doesn't give you time to think before he is wrapping you up in a hug.

your head resting in the crook of his neck as he picks you up in the hug. you laugh at his strength. when your giggles die down thats when you hear him. he's mutter a quiet stream of "i love you"'s into your ear. this is when the tears spring to your eyes again. you pull his head out of your neck to really look at him.

"i love you too. you didn't let me say it back last time." you try to slip the joke in but lando doesn't laugh. no, he just springs forward, lips locking with yours in the sweetest kiss you've had yet from the brit. he pulls away put sends a quick few pecks to your lips, because he can never get enough of you.

you both spend the rest of the day repeating those words to each other like you have just found out what they mean. lando literally feels the need to shout them to everyone he see's in the airport as you wave him goodbye the next again.

while lando is on the flight with no internet he spends his free time typing the words 'i love you' out individually, over and over again then sending it to you just before he lands so that when he does actually land and you get the message. you will be reminded that you are all he thinks about even when you aren't with him.

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tofics · 30 days

Text

15 minutes

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!fem!Reader

Song Inspo: 15 Minutes by Madison Beer

18+ only! 🚨 Mature content ahead! 🚨

Summary: For as long as you've worked with Dean Winchester, he's been the boss of you. What Dean says, goes. Even if that means that you have to sit in the car while he finishes the monster off. One day, you decide you've had enough. No more taking orders. The confrontation just goes a little different than you expected.

Word count: 6047 words

Warnings: Cursing, verbal fighting, smut

Header made by the lovely and talented @artyandink

[09:13pm]

It had taken you just ten minutes to get here. Only ten minutes, despite the rain coming down in sheets and reducing the visibility to barely two feet in front of you.

Ten hazy minutes of street lights flying past you as the rain drummed on the roof of your car and splashed across the windshield.

A reckless drive, to say the least.

Not that you remember much of it. Your thoughts had been elsewhere…

The light in front of you shifts slightly. A silhouette, barely visible through the cascades of water running down the windshield, moves across the window of the motel room you’re parked in front of.

Your fingers wrap around the leather of the steering wheel so tightly that your knuckles turn white.

“Go. Go! Leave! Now!”

Dean’s order from this afternoon reverberates through your head like an echo you can’t escape and fuels your anger anew.

Fuck this.

[09:15pm]

A quick glance at the clock - two minutes have passed since you parked the car. Two minutes of pondering what the fuck you’re doing here exactly.

Have you come to yell at him?

To strike him across the face, like you wanted to, after his text messages?

Or - worse - kiss him, like you’ve wanted to for weeks?

[08:17pm] At the motel. Where are you?

[08:41pm] Call me.

[08:58pm] Answer your phone.

[09:03pm] CALL ME.

You're strongly leaning towards yelling.

You brought this case to him. You put the file together. Both of you did the research together. And then he gets to send you home for the final part? He gets to risk his life while you’re sent home like a child is sent to bed once the adult programs come on?

Who does he think he is?

Another minute passes as you sit and feel every emotion pulse through you.

[09:16pm]

Fuck. This.

Within seconds, you’re out of the car and at the door to the motel room, but whatever motion carried you over here so swiftly abruptly fades the moment you’re about to slide the key into the lock.

The sudden stop feels irritating. Your anger is pushing you forward, demanding to barge into the room and give Dean a lecture that’ll leave his ears ringing the same way his order is still ringing in yours. It’s mixing with your demand of approval and recognition, but it’s not them that’s stopping you in your tracks. Your anger is still the driving force here, overshadowing the needy aspects of your emotions.

No, there is something else at work here - something more nagging, scratching around in the back of your brain and settling heavy in your stomach. What Dean says goes. It's an unspoken rule that you have always followed down to a t, no matter how irritating or belittling his orders appear to you. He'd probably say that makes you a good partner, whereas you... you'd argue it makes you weak; a puppet, a follower and not the leader you know yourself to be. It feels shameful to be so obedient, to be such a blind follower, to be so stupidly and painfully in love with Dean Winchester that his word is your command.

But it's not just shame that's got your hand frozen on the doorknob. It's worry.

What if you don't get a chance to say your piece? To make him see you for what you really are? What's to stop him from shutting you up with a snap of his fingers, to shush you with just a word?

A new wave of anger surges through you at just the idea of it.

You will have your say tonight.

[09:18pm]

The key slides into the lock without hesitation. You stride into the motel room with the confidence of a woman on a mission, deadly and ready to kill.

The momentum leaves you the second you've scanned your surroundings. A beer bottle next to a half-eaten microwave meal, discarded and left alone on the main table. Dean's jacket strewn across one of the beds, but no boots beneath it on the ground. The TV is on, blaring non-sense into the otherwise empty room.

Where the hell is he?

Then he appears, striding out of the adjoining bathroom with the same confidence you had to talk yourself into but that just comes naturally to him. Save for the furrowed brows, it features on his face too, a mask only worn by those who know they command any room they enter.

The expression flickers only briefly when he registers you standing in the middle of the room, drenched from head to toe, visibly seething with anger.

Your appearance earns you a raised eye-brow. "Thought I told you to go home."

Oh, his tone. So matter-of-factly, so pretentious, so arrogant.

"Well, I didn't."

"I can see that."

The TV blares on in the background and you're thankful for it, hoping it conceals the sound of your heart thumping in your chest. His eyes bore into yours and you hold the gaze, unwilling to look away in submission.

"Also told you to call me."

"You tell me a lot of things."

His face remains the same, but you can see his jaw ticking. "You got something to say to me?"

You exhale loudly through your nose. "Boy, do I got something to say to you."

"By all means, go ahead." It's clear you have ticked him off, so the sarcasm shouldn't be a surprise. And it isn't really, but it's the drop that causes your barrel to overflow.

"Oh, this is exactly what I mean!" You storm forward with an accusing finger pointed at Dean's chest. "I don't need your allowance to do anything. I don't need you barking orders at me left and right like I'm your silly little sidekick!" Your finger is jabbing into his flesh, driving home each point you make with a stab into his chest.

"Are you done?"

The reaction is so emotionless, so anything-but-impressed by your words that you're dumbfounded for just a moment.

"Are you kidding me?" It took a second, but the fuse his words lit reaches your brain with a soft ping and sets you off.

"What - is - wrong - with - you!" You've upgraded from little jabs to full on shoves against his chest, each stronger than the last. His torso staggers with each shove but he makes no move to interrupt you, which somehow only infuriates you more. "Fucking fight me back! Take me seriously for once!"

One second Dean's letting you shove against him like a boxing sack, the next, his hands are around your wrists, stopping your moves mid-air.

"Is that what this is about? You think I don't take you seriously?"

You pull on your arms to free yourself of his grip, but his hold is too strong. Your anger boils in your stomach.

"Let me go," you hiss, but he makes no such move. Instead, his grip just tightens.

"Answer me," he demands and all you can do in response to let out an angry cry. You've come to give him a piece of your mind about constantly having to take his orders, and he has the nerve, the gall to give you another order during your outburst. It's the ultimate insult.

"Fuck you, Dean. Fuck. You." You fight against his grip with strength, enforcing a momentary struggle between the two of you. You're strong, but Dean's taller. He manages to spin you around so your back is pressed against is chest, caught between his arms that are pressing your own to your chest.

He's become your life-size straitjacket. The embodiment of his demeanor - not only enforcing his will through words, but with his body too.

You hate him in this moment.

You hate that he has overpowered you, outpowered you like his words already do so much of the time.

But most of all, you hate how good it feels to be pressed so tightly against him.

His chest is pushing against you with each heavy breath he takes. The longer you're locked in his arms, the more his scent engulfs you, a mix of Baby's leather, his cologne and a faint hint of his very own smell, full of his deadly pheromones.

I need to get out of here.

"You gonna tell me what's going on now?" Dean's voice is raspy in your ear, a little strained from the effort to keep you locked in his forced embrace, but still carrying the same unchanged undertone: do as I say.

You whine and push against his arms, yearning to break free so you can get away from him as far as possible, anywhere, just not this close where his voice is right in your ear and his scent is seeping you into your nose, luring you in with every breath you take.

"Hey. Hey!" Dean spins you around and pins you in place with his large hands wrapped around your upper arms. "You think I don't take you seriously?" He's staring you down and you're torn. His face is so close that you can see every detail up-close, every freckle and every single shade of green in his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. You want to look away, need to look away so you don't lose yourself in them, but you can't if you want to stand your ground.

"I don't think so, I know so," you push out between gritted teeth.

"The hell gave you that idea?" The concept genuinely seems to baffle him, so much so that he releases his grip on your shoulders. You stagger momentarly from the loss of force on your body, then immediately mourn the loss of his touch.

"What do you mean, 'what gave me the idea'? Are you serious? Like you don't boss me around left and right with no concern for my input or my abilities. I'm not your equal, not in your eyes!" Your voice is rising to a shout as you finally give room to the words you've harbored for so long. "I'm not even your sidekick, I'm an assistant at best! Need a new case? That's fine, take mine, but god forbid I'm there for the finale! Nooo, Dean Winchester gets to reap the rewards, not me, who did all the work with you, Dean, for you! I am nothing to you, nothing!"

Generic laughter sounds from the TV, filling the thick silence between you while you catch your breath. Dean cocks his head to the side, his jaw ever-ticking.

"Is that what you think?" His voice is suddenly so low that you can barely hear him over the TV. "You think I don't care?"

You want to reply, but then he laughs and your words get stuck in your throat.

"Sweetheart, I wish I didn't care." He runs a hand over his mouth. "I wish I didn't care so I wouldn't be worried out of my mind every time we went on a hunt. I wish I didn't care so I wouldn't have to worry about you getting hurt, or worse, killed, every single time we face a new monster."

You try to follow him, but your mind gets stuck on the pet name. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart.

"You got a problem with me giving you orders? You're mad you didn't get to kill the big bad wolf by yourself? Well guess what, sweetheart." Dean closes the space that you've temporarily put between him and you. "I don't care about any of that."

You're ripped out of your hypnosis by the immediate sting of his words. Involuntary tears spring to your eyes and you try to fight them back down, unwilling to let him see how much it pains you to be right. "Fucking knew it-," you start, your voice thick and laced with pain, but he stops you.

"Oh, I'm not finished. I don't care if giving you orders pisses you off. I don't care if following my orders means that you get to live. That's what I care about. Hate me all you want, but don't you ever think for a second that I don't care about you. You mean 'nothing' to me? You mean everything to me."

You mean everything to me.

Everything to me.

Everything.

The words echo in your head, one by one, until only one remains. Everything.

You blink at Dean.

Everything.

Even if you're dubious of the words, there is something in his eyes that you've never ever seen on Dean before. His brows are furrowed in that very familiar expression of anger, the type that regularly settles on his face when you refuse to listen, but there is something else underneath it all, softer and hesitant and shy-

It takes a moment, but you finally register it for what it is.

Vulnerability.

Fuck.

What you read as a sense of arrogance had been something else entirely all along? All his orders, every single command he's given you - they came from a place of love, not of condescension?

The weight of this revelation hangs heavy in the room as you blink feverishly, trying to make sense of it.

You mean everything to me.

Everything to me.

Everything.

The echo is like a starting shot that fires through your brain. Your legs move before you're even aware of it, carried forward by instinct rather than thought. One moment you're opposite Dean in a mouthy stand-off, the next you're on your tiptoes and your lips press against his in a hungry, starving fashion.

Whatever surprise you feel about your own boldness is quickly replaced by the astonishing speed at which Dean adjusts to the invasion of his personal space. You attribute some of it to his years of training, but a part of you wonders if his quick response has anything to do with how you mean everything to him.

Has he dreamt of this as long as you have?

Dean doesn't grant you a lot of time to ponder the question. His hands make sure that your brain is preoccupied with tracking their placement on your body, a task that's easier said than done as they move over your back and slide over your hips, skillfully testing your curves and luscious hills before getting tangled in your damp hair and cupping your face.

You know the feeling. You've felt it in his presence before numerous times, though the circumstances could not have been more different. Dean's hands on your body are new, but the adrenaline pumping through you isn't, nor is the sensation of being on high-alert and tracking every single sensation that you can register. All of your senses are working at high speed, clocking every touch, every sound that your touch on his body elicits.

Instead of relying on every piece of information to stay alive, you are devouring every sensation with a hunger you didn't know you were capable of. Every moment, every placement of his hands on your body, every movement of his lips against yours has to be clocked and noted down. You're eating it all up in a desperate attempt to commit all of it to memory at once, no matter how many braincells you fry in the process.

For reasons you cannot think of in this moment, your vigor is not only matched but challenged by Dean. The kiss is a pornographic rendition of your interactions on a hunt: Dean's insistence to lead and your feeble attempts to take point. Even though you were the one to kiss him, there's a neediness on both ends as the two of you seem to struggle for more of the other, more lips, more skin, more more more.

Your wet clothing is leaving stains on his, but he doesn't seem to mind or even notice. "You're everything to me," he repeats in a murmur in the rare instance that his mouth break from yours. You can feel his lips move against your cheek as he speaks. A kiss is planted in the same spot, then another on your cheekbone, on your jawline, your earlobe, and then that special place just below where the ear meets the neck that gives you goosebumps.

"How could I ever let something happen to you?" Dean expertly works his way from your neck down to the low cut of your shirt and you're unable to respond, rendered mute by the sensation of his lips and tongue travelling over your collarbone and marking their passage as they go. His kisses are sloppy and yet precise, saliva mixing with the beads of water dripping from your hair onto your chest. He licks them up where he encounters them, hot wet strips up your skin that burn with fiery want even long after his tongue has moved on another place.

Dean's touches feel like heaven. They cloud your mind and haze your thoughts until there's barely anything sensible left in your head for you to hold on. What you feel most is a desperate want, a heavy need for him, for Dean to be touching you, to be on you, to be inside of you.

And yet, persistent as an infestation of cockroaches, a shred of defiance remains in the back of your mind, demanding to be heard.

I want to have my say, it pouts and stomps with its foot like a toddler in the midst of a tantrum.

And have your say you will.

"Stop," you breathe out and pull away what little you can while encased in Dean's arms.

It shouldn't delight you how quickly he freezes up before you, how fast he follows your plea command. You know Dean can be overbearing and bossy, a pompous and pretentious asshole for a leader who barks orders without offering explanations, but he's never once been anything but a gentleman when it comes to boundaries regarding your personal space.

Dean is a lot of things, but he's not a grabby asshole. Just a bossy one.

"What did I do? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?" The immediate concern is evident both on his face and in his voice and you feel like you might scream. No, you didn't, my god, you didn't, keep on doing what you did, your heart seems to be saying, cheered on by the pool of warmth between your legs, but the remaining shred of defiance isn't having any of it.

"I- no, no you didn't, it's just-," you start and break off again. Words are racing through your head at lightning speed, forming half-sentences that barely make sense before being replaced immediately.

I want you to listen to me-

Want you to hear me-

To validate me as a hunter-

I want you to fuck me, right here, right now.

You're at war with yourself and your mouth can't keep up with the speed at which your thoughts firing.

See me, hear me, validate me.

Do to my body whatever you want.

"Hey, talk to me." Dean's voice is gentle, just like the hand he places on your cheek, but your jaw clenches regardless. Another order. You tense up under his touch and see his brows furrow in concern, the lines on his forehead deepening. His eyes seek out yours and finally, you see something in them you haven't seen before. They speak before his mouth does: Please.

"Please," he repeats and you melt right there and then.

Finally, the single word that turns his command into a plea.

Somehow, that's all it takes.

"Fucking finally," you breathe out before you throw yourself at him with renewed vigor. You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him a little closer in an effort to reinforce what you're trying to wordlessly say with way of your lips: touch me, kiss me, take me, make me yours.

God or not, Dean answers your prayers. Your shirt is the first to go, peeled off of your damp skin hastily and chucked aside. His flannel and t-shirt soon follow by your hands and a growl escapes your throat when his bare chest is exposed to you. You've seen Dean topless before (though not often enough in your opinion) but you've never been this close to it, your face just mere inches from where his anti-possession tattoo blooms on his chest. His scent wafts over to you as he moves against you and you can't help but sink your teeth into his skin, a puny attempt at devouring him whole so that he may stay with you forever.

You latch onto his skin and the ground underneath your feet disappears. You yelp into his chest when Dean picks you up with surprising ease and walks the two of you over to his bed, never once stopping the shower of kisses on any spot of you that he can reach. He lays you down so gently that he seems afraid he might break you if he handled you too roughly, but then his body presses you into the mattress as he lays on top of you and kisses you with a feverish intensity that is anything but gentle.

Where to place your hands first? His back, his neck, his biceps, his stomach? Or bury them in his hair instead? The choices are overwhelming and equally tempting, so you don't decide but go for all of them. You simply can't get enough of him, of touching Dean the way you've dreamt of for so long, silently and secretly at night where you couldn't be caught; but now he's here, his warm skin flush against yours, and it's exhilarating.

"My god, look at you," Dean groans, his head level with your chest. "You're gorgeous." His hands cup around your luscious breasts with a gentle squeeze while he looks on in admiration and you feel some color rushing to your cheeks. Dean's not exactly shy to hand out a compliment, but it's never been anything as explicit as this before.

"Could never let anything happen to you," he mumbles into your skin between nibbles down your belly. His hands accompany his mouth, softly kneading the pads of flesh in wake of his kisses. Were the circumstances different, were it anyone else besides Dean - the attention of detail to your belly would have sent you into a frenzy already, self-consciousness kicking in and overriding any bit of joy you could derive from the activity. But it's not a random bar hook up that's leaving love-bites on your soft hills and curves, it's not a stranger that's kneading your flesh with a hungry and appreciative appetite in his eyes. It's Dean, peppering you with kisses all over, not missing a single inch of your torso and squeezing you so affectionately in any place that he can get a hold of that you don't even consider once whether or not he enjoys what is being served to him.

There is no question that Dean is enjoying his meal to the fullest, and from the hunger in his eyes, it looks like he hasn't even gotten to the main course yet.

You buck your hips up towards him when his mouth nears the waistband of your jeans, keen with anticipation, but then his mouth trails back up towards your bust again. "Not done yet," you hear him mumble and feel his lips stretch into a grin across your skin when you whine in frustration. "Patience, sweetheart, patience."

Patience my ass, you think, but slightly arch your back so he can unclasp your bra regardless. Something of a choking sound falls from Dean's lips when your tits fall free. "My god," he breathes out and there's the same shine in his eyes that he gets when pie is placed in front of him. "Do you even know how beautiful you are?"

He doesn't wait for you to respond and you're not sure you could anyway. Dean just had another appetizer served and he is hungry. His lips dip down and encase the sensitive bud with the precision and determination. A moan escapes you when his tongue starts to swirl around until your nipple stands rock hard. You blindly feel for him, aiming for his hair to pull him up to you for another kiss, but he catches your hands before they can latch on and gently traps your wrists in a bracelet of his own hands, pressing soft kisses to your palms before returning his attention to your remaining nipple.

You squirm underneath Dean, moaning and whining while trapped in his literal hand-cuffs as he feathers strokes of his tongue over your other nub.

"Dean, please," you whine, unsure of what exactly it is you're asking for. All you know is that you want more, that you need more. "Please."

Dean hums against your skin in acknowledgement. "I hear you, baby, I do."

He makes quick work of your pants, a true feat considering the way jeans cling to wet skin. Perhaps the jeans temporarily forgot that it was wet under Dean's touch. You couldn't blame it, the way he expertly peels the thick wet garment off you like it's nothing. He unearths your damp and shivering legs in the same way one might peel skin off a delicious fruit. The wet piece drops to the floor in a soft thud, forgotten the moment the last bit of fabric leaves your skin.

How can a man who fights and kills with such brute strength touch you with the softness of a feather?

The pads of Dean's fingers stroke up your legs, over your shins and up to your knees where they suddenly dig into your skin, and appreciative grip on your thighs. You're by no means small, but Dean's large hands still somehow fill the width of your thighs. It's an intoxicating scene, his hands spread out on your thighs, so close to your heated core; something akin to a painting you wish you could frame and hang on your wall.

"Hey." You involuntarily peel your eyes from his hands at the beckoning of his voice. "Are you sure?"

You tug on his waistband in lieu of an answer, motioning for him to scoot upwards. You can sense his hesitation in the cautious way he crawls towards you, his eyes still searching your eyes for what your mouth won't say. You don't leave him guessing long, though. One hand travels down his torso towards the bulge in his pants. Dean's breath stutters and his eyes flutter shut as you rub your hand over his erection. He shudders against your touch while he hovers over you, visibly straining to stay atop. "You don't gotta-" His voice breaks off into a groan when you start moving your hand mid-sentence. Dean's head falls towards your chest with closed eyes and his body shudders again, resulting in a smug grin on your face.

This is your doing.

And though Dean is clearly enjoying your touch on his groin, it's not enough. You need more, more of him.

Your hands make quick work of his belt buckle, working with the same experience and quick fingers that can quickly dismantle a gun and put it back together. When your hand slips into his boxers, you both gasp.

He's big.

Your fingers form a ring around his cock and you begin to Dean jerk off, slowly and attentively, watching his face for a reaction of what he likes and adjusting your grip and speed accordingly. It's mesmerizing, the way it only takes your hand to draw sounds from Dean's lips you've never heard from him before, but have dreamt of countless times. One of his hand snakes into your hair while his face sinks into the crook of your neck. You feel his labored breath against your skin and the sharp pull on your scalp where his fingers have clenched into a fist in your hair. "Fuck, sweetheart," he whispers and you feel yourself leaking into your panties with excitement.

So many days you brooded over Dean's bossy demeanor. So many times you sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, fuming and stewing in your own anger while you waited for him to finish off another monster, shunned to the car and ordered to wait until he'd done the deed. You swallowed so many orders and commands, but now, you're the one in charge.

You have your hand wrapped around Dean's cock and you can't help but feel like you've won.

"Hold on, please," he croaks into your neck, his voice deliciously raspy and needy.

'Please', he said.

Something in your tummy pulls. Dean is asking you, not ordering you.

"Please," he repeats again and your hand stills in his boxers. You turn your head to find his eyes. "You gotta stop, or it's over before it's even begun," he says and the smug smile only spreads further on your face.

You have your hand wrapped around Dean's cock, and you're making him feel so good that he might come if you don't stop.

'Pride' does not begin to cover the emotion you feel in this moment.

His lips seek out yours and he pulls you into a kiss that has a different flavor than those that came before. The passion hasn't changed, but the core has, going from needy to more sensual. His hands run a new course over your body as his tongue dances with yours, and before long, you can guess their destination.

Dean is seeking out the heat between your legs. He first runs a single, gentle finger over the damp cloth between your thighs. There's no question that though the rain properly soaked you, the dampness between your legs has nothing to do with the downpour outside and everything to do with the large man on top of you.

He groans slightly when he feels how soaked you already are. "So wet already, sweetheart? Just for me?" The words are mumbled against the sensitive spot on your neck. The skin tingles where his lips make contact and a shiver of goosebumps runs down your body, causing you to shudder slightly against his touch. His finger slides over your clothed folds again, dipping between them ever so slightly but enough for you to feel the friction directly against your clit. A breath hitches in your throat and the grip on his cock tightens involuntarily.

He's barely touched you (down there) and you already feel like you're about to lose your marbles.

In true fashion to the competitive nature of your relationship, the next few minutes are a competition of who can make the other one break first. Dean slides a finger under the fabric that separates him from your core and begins to softly move it up and down your folds; meanwhile you resume your work in his boxers. Moans fill the room as both of you pleasure the other one with nothing more than your hands.

You fight to focus through the hazy pleasure that fills your head more and more as Dean draws tiny circles over your most sensitive spot. The longer his soft pad presses against your sensitive flesh in a circular motion, the more you find your hips arching upwards toward him, silently begging for more friction. It's both a blessing and a curse how good it feels to have his hand between your legs and you find yourself trapped by your own need for dominance - give or receive?

But then Dean's hips buck against your grip in his pants and you are spurned on even more, determined to make him come before you do.

Your resolve lasts for all but sixty seconds when Dean decides that enough is enough and he needs more of you, and he needs it now. The finger that toyed with your clit slides down towards your entry, easy and swiftly through your slick that by now has bled through the fabric of your panties and dampened the mattress. Dean reaches his destination and probes your fluttery hole with just the tip of his finger, sliding in with the same ease as pushing into cotton candy, and both you and him moan simultaneously. "So wet, so soft," he whispers and you whine, your grip on his cock feeling like the only thing that's anchoring to this world.

It's just the tip, but now that it's there, you need more, now, this very second. Your hips move on their own accord in an attempt to push down on his finger and Dean accepts your request without hesitation. His long digit slowly drives into you and you arch your back in response, your mind clouding over as he claims you for the first time.

"Fuck, Dean," you whine, the last words you're able to form before he pulls out and gently repeats the intrusion into your wet and heated core. The second he takes on a steady pace you're lost to the sensation.

Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as Dean slides in and out of you, the steady motion creating a delicious friction in your aching center that both helps and adds to the tension that's building in your core. "My god, you're beautiful, you're so beautiful," you hear him whisper into your ear and you're unable to respond, caught in a trance brought on by his finger inside of you.

You don't even notice your grip loosening in his pants. Your arm is still moving absent-mindedly, pulling your ring of fingers up and down his shaft, but your movements stutter, impacted by Dean's digit that's working in and out of you.

His winning strike comes in the form of a second finger, gently pushing into you alongside the one that's already made himself at home inside of you. You feel the stretch of a second digit widening you and then gasp in ecstasy when not one, but two fingers curl deep inside of you and brush over the spot that makes you see stars.

It's over from thereon out. After seeing your reaction, Dean repeats the curling maneuver inside of you with an intensity and determination you only see from him when you're chasing a monster, except he's chasing your release now, and he seems dead-set on it. He mumbles praises into your ear while he works into you, the pads of his fingers relentlessly brushing over that same spot deep inside of you that you begin to thrash underneath him, unable to stay still while the coil in your belly tightens.

You were foolish to think that you could win against him, you now realize. You are putty in Dean's hands, ready to be molded into whatever he wants you to be. His orders are your command, what he says, goes.

"Come for me, sweetheart, come for me." It's as much as a request as it is an order.

How could the clay ever disobey its masters hands?

Dean's fingers work against the soft spot inside of you relentlessly and all you can do is hang on to him by digging a fist into his hair. Your back is arched, pushing your mound into his hand, deepening the friction he's providing as you push against him rhythmically. It doesn't take long for you to follow your orders.

One more curl of his fingers, one more pads of fingers brushing over your spot, and you're sent over the edge, legs quivering and shaking as the orgasm overtakes you and washes over you. You moan into Dean's ear, helpless as you're falling apart, but feeling perfectly safe at the same time.

Dean works you through your orgasm with the same intentional help he offers to you whenever else you are in need. His movements slow in unison with your body coming down from its high, but the kisses on your neck and collarbone never cease.

"You did so good, sweetheart. So good."

The praise goes down like warm honey. You drink it up like you're a woman dying of thirst and you realize that you can both win and lose at the same time.

Dean may be your boss, but he sees you regardless. He takes point, but he hears you.

And - this, you've never been more sure of in your life - he validates you.

He just couldn't show it before.

A/N: My first time writing smut! 🙂‍↕️ Did trying to write this almost break my brain? Absolutely. Am I satisfied with the outcome? …I think so. I didn’t proof-read it, but I’ve rewritten this piece so many times that I know some passages by heart now. I absolutely would’ve gotten nowhere if it hadn’t been for @artyandink’s tips and support throughout this. For that, I thank you my friend. I also have to give credit where credit is due and mention @zepskies because she’s the first writer I noticed specifically including plus-sized!readers in her fics. As a rather heavy set girl myself, I appreciated that so much! I tried to include appreciation for us heavier girls in this fic and I hope I did alright. That goes for the entire thing - writing smut was unbelievably daunting so if you have any feedback at all, please please please let me know. Criticism is appreciated too! - Alright, enough babbling. I hope you enjoyed my first attempt at smut! 🫶🏼

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

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laurfilijames · 2 months

Text

Breathe

Part 5

Pairing: Will "Ironhead" Miller x female reader

Words: 6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+ only. Oral sex (F receiving). Masturbation (M). Cum play. Fingering. Swearing. Truck sex. Detailed nightmare involving choking and death. Vomiting.

Summary: More days of bliss continue for you and Will, including a proper date where lustful feelings are balanced with hesitations, and another nightmare brings things crashing down.

A/N: Well, I managed to write another chapter before it was a year since it had been updated 😅 Thank you to everyone who continues to show interest in this story and for voting for it to be the fic to be updated next 💗 Extending an even bigger thank you to the wonderful @spaghettificationandpretzels who gifted me these absolutely stunning headers to use!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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The slow, lazy drawl of his words were like liquid gold; warm, welcoming and melting over you, the appellation ‘sweetheart’ he'd given you something you were quickly growing accustomed to and hoped you would wake up hearing every morning.

But his greeting was nothing compared to the way he made you feel as he met his mouth against your spread cunt, his smooth, searing tongue licking a broad stroke through your folds that held remnants of him from the night before.

Your mouth opened to say something in return, but all that came out was a sharp gasp that quickly turned into a drawn out moan, your arm extending to grip at Will’s hair where your fingers held onto it tightly, your hips lifting up to push against his face.

You felt him hum against your flesh, his approval of your blatant need for more reverberating through you, his hunger evident as he eagerly ate at you.

Continuing to writhe to the generous movements of his tongue, you opened your eyes and looked up at the ceiling, digging your head back into the pillow as you succumbed to every assault on your sensitive sex, the white plaster now blurred through your eyes.

Will wrapped his arms around both your thighs, pulling them down to the mattress to spread you further apart, securing his hold on you despite you moving wildly from pleasure. He latched onto your clit, sucking and flicking at it until your breathy moans grew into cries, feeling your body lurch and lift off the bed in an attempt to resist his grasp to keep you in place.

His ferocity only increased, the taste of your slick coating his tongue and soaking his beard encouraging him, feeling starved for something he never knew would be possible of craving this much, everything about you addicting him like nothing in his life had ever before.

The sheets pulled under your body as your hands left his head and fell to them, clawing at them desperately and bunching them up until your nails felt sore, your whole body tensing and trying to escape this barrage only to have such intense ecstasy take hold of you almost as if it was against your will.

There was no way for you to attempt to keep quiet, not caring a single bit if Benny happened to be home and heard what surely sounded like Will was killing you, your body and mind unable to restrain the pleasure the older Miller provided even if you wanted to.

And then the Captain kept going.

You bucked against his face as he landed one knee on the bed, the dip of it registering his weight and power in your fucked-out brain, the thrill of knowing this man could do whatever he wanted to you without a struggle both scaring and exciting you.

Will buried his face in you even more, pushing his talented mouth and tongue deeper in your soppy cunt, his shoulders pressing hard on the backs of your thighs while his arms continued to lock around your hips, keeping you from backing away from him.

Low, satisfied moans sounded from him the more he devoured you, adding to the delirium of lust that was taking over every part of you, knowing he was enjoying this just as much as you were igniting the fire that quickly erupted into a second orgasm.

He growled into you as you wildly rode his face, his fingers digging into your flesh to force you to ride out every second of it as intensely as possible, his tongue keeping the same consistent pace and pattern that brought you to your high in the first place.

Your back arched off the bed, your hands reaching for any part of him you could make purchase on, grabbing his shoulders and arms and finally landing on his head, your nails raking over his scalp as you applied pressure that kept him in place.

Will didn't stop until he felt your body relax around him, your tensed muscles and limbs falling slack around him, his fervid actions slowed to gentler kisses and softer licks while his hands rubbed you soothingly.

“Oh my god,” you said through a small laugh, one of your hands resting on your forehead as you took in how impossibly good that was, the other giving his firm bicep a squeeze.

Will chuckled as he sat upright, looking down at you hungrily while he pushed your knees flat against the bed to keep you spread out for him.

His face and beard glistened with your slick, and his cock was leaking excessively from the tip, the sight of him throbbing and full of so much want for you making your heart swell and hammer in your chest.

Your mouth watered as you watched him take hold of himself, rubbing his thumb over the smooth dome before running his hand down the length, his eyes falling closed at the relief he felt at finally addressing the ache between his legs.

Will began pumping his dick slowly, only to increase the pace after a minute, his eyes opening to look at you with a crooked, lustful smirk.

“You're so fucking hot, sweetheart,” he complimented, his gaze trailing from your tits that you languidly touched down to where your pussy was laid out and open for him to do whatever he wanted with.

You smiled, your breathing becoming more laboured as you got worked up watching him jerk himself off, his chest rising and falling sharply in time with yours.

“You want that load on you?” he panted, his voice gruff in his question.

“Yes,” you confirmed with an eager nod, your arousal billowing through you again.

“Where do you want it?”

You pinched at your nipple, moaning as you wiggled on the sheets before him, your body his to use however he pleased.

“Anywhere.”

The muscles in Will’s cheeks flinched as he clenched his teeth tightly together, his arm that pumped away at his cock flexing admirably, and his eyes fell to your hole that oozed with your creamy slick, his target chosen with a darkness clouding his blue irises.

He angled his hips slightly closer to you, aiming his shot at you right as the first of his cum spurt out and landed on your clit, then on your inner thigh, the rest of it exploding onto your folds.

Will wasted no time in swiping up his hot spend with two of his fingers and driving it inside you, making you cry out and jolt to his aggressive touch.

You quivered and shook, unable to control any sounds or movements made, your eyes squeezed shut as he finger fucked you hard.

“That's it, baby,” he encouraged roughly. “You're still gonna end up full of my cum, you little slut.”

You could hear the amusement in his tone, and you opened your eyes to see him focused on his task, continuing to drive all of his load inside you each time we pulled his fingers out and pushed them back in again, the slipperiness of it on your overstimulated cunt throwing you over the edge.

The euphoria was blinding and more intense than the two he gave you before it, feeling a rush of wet release from you as you rocked on his hand, his grunts and moans barely registering in your ringing ears.

“Fuck, Will!” you cried, breathless and heaving as you came down hard from your high, feeling the soaked sheets under you and seeing the tattoo on his forearm shining, the ink darkened and saturated.

He climbed through your mess as he lowered himself overtop of you, covering your sated, numb form with his, his weight welcoming after having such an otherworldly experience. Cradling your heated cheek in his hand, he captured your lips with his, transferring your tangy taste onto your tongue from his mouth and beard, both of you moaning slowly as you deepened your kiss and savoured each breathless second.

It had been nearly another full day before you returned home, Will driving you back to your car where it had been abandoned in the gym parking lot after he had whisked you away to his house, neither of you wishing for the fantasy of staying in his bed to end and being forced to face reality.

As if it hadn’t been impossible already, you found it even more so to distract your thoughts from him, catching yourself daydreaming or smiling to yourself in the midst of any task, knowing you were falling in love far quicker than you could have ever imagined.

It took everything in you not to call or text him first, urging yourself to play it cool and not come on too strong despite everything you had done together being the opposite of that, the worry of spooking Will or letting your hearts take off before your feet had a chance to catch up something you didn’t want to happen.

But it was like he was reading your mind, your phone buzzing on the table behind you as you worked to prep your dinner, quickly dropping your knife and wiping your hands on the tea towel as you watched his name light up your screen with a text.

I can’t stop thinking about you. Dinner tomorrow?

You grinned and pulled your lip between your teeth to try to stifle it, the consideration of waiting a couple of minutes to reply crossing your mind even as your fingers furiously typed out your reply.

I would love that.

Will breathed a sigh of relief as he read your text, happy that you responded right away and that you were wanting to see him again so soon, his mind constantly racing with worry that what you had experienced together had vanished as soon as you had left his house or that he had taken it for more than what it was.

“You need to chill, dude,” Benny muttered from the other side of the kitchen, making Will scowl before putting his phone down and rubbing his hands through his hair.

“If you wanna see her, see her. It’s not that hard.”

Will scoffed a laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter.

“That easy, huh?”

Benny smiled and nodded, shrugging his shoulders at the same time he gave Will a look that hinted he was thinking his brother was being ridiculous. “Yeah.”

Will puffed out his cheeks as he sighed again and shifted his weight on his feet.

“I asked her for dinner and she said yes, but I don’t know where to take her.”

“Literally anywhere, man.”

Will ignored his brother’s helpful suggestion, continuing to think out loud.

“The problem is I want to go somewhere nice, you know, but I can’t exactly afford that right now. Fuck, I can hardly afford to get us Big Macs from McDonald’s and that doesn’t exactly scream romance, does it?”

“Jesus Christ, you overthink this shit so much,” Benny accused, stopping from putting away the dishes he just washed to turn and face his brother in hopes of getting his point across and easing Will’s mind. “Judging from what I’ve seen, and heard, so far, just being with you would make her happy.”

Will nodded and glanced down at his feet, wanting to trust what Benny was saying but still having doubts given the history of his love life.

“I don’t want to mess it up, man.”

“I know, and you won’t, but if you keep being all fucking on-edge about it and not just going with it then things won’t happen how they should.”

Will looked up and squinted at his brother, that same nervous feeling he kept having bubbling up inside him again.

“You don’t think we’re moving too fast?”

Benny shrugged again. “Fuck, man, I don’t know. You didn’t ask her to marry you or anything while you were balls deep did you? If it feels right, then it’s right. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Will laughed and shook his head, finding it hard to believe he was putting the fate of his relationship in Benny’s hands and taking his advice.

“Do you think a picnic on the beach is fucking lame?”

“Nah, chicks eat that up. Do that. She’ll love it,” Benny assured him, clapping his hand on Will’s shoulder as he passed by him to walk out of the kitchen.

“Just be careful when you’re fucking in the sand,” he added, winking over his shoulder and laughing.

Will made sure he covered every detail, wanting everything to be perfect despite Benny reassuring him it would be.

Doing a mental checklist as he packed everything up for your date, he placed everything from cutlery, to napkins, glasses and a wine opener into a cooler and bag, double-checking everything was there and he wasn’t forgetting something.

He glanced at his watch as he closed the cooler, seeing he had eight minutes before he said he would be picking you up, knowing the drive to your house was only six and a bit and that he’d rather be early than late, but didn’t want to make you feel rushed.

Deciding it was better to go now before he could second-guess anything else, he grabbed everything and headed out the door to his truck, telling himself he would drive the exact speed limit in order to show up right on time, shouting a quick goodbye to Benny who was in the garage doing pushups and responded with a grunting ‘good luck’.

The nervousness and excitement he felt were equal, trading off with each other what felt like every ten seconds as he drove, the stress he had put on himself to make this date perfect exchanging with how eager he was to see your beautiful smile and hear your sweet voice.

A small bout of panic shocked through his veins when he pulled up to your house, seeing you sitting on your front porch waiting for him, making him steal a glance at both the clock on his dashboard and at his watch to ensure he wasn’t late, only to realize he was still two minutes early and you were clearly just as excited for this as he was.

The smile you gave him as you stood and grabbed a small bag from beside you immediately put him at ease, shifting his truck into park before promptly getting out even though you were already a few steps away.

“Hey,” he greeted, leaning in for the hug you initiated, releasing the breath he had sucked in as soon as your arm wrapped around his neck and gave him a firm squeeze.

“Hi,” you whispered against his shoulder, the tone of your voice telling of your relief to be in his arms again.

“Ready?” Will asked, extending his hand to take the bag you held in yours, matching your smile as you nodded and made your way to the passenger side.

Will followed, admiring how gorgeous you looked in your pretty, floral dress, opening the door for you to hop up into the seat.

He placed your bag beside the cooler in the back and then got in, beaming at you as he put on his seatbelt.

“I know you told me not to bring anything, but I had to,” you explained, justifying your reason for not following his request. “I remember you mentioning those cookies you love from that bakery down on Main, and-”

“Seriously?” he blurted, his joy due to your thoughtfulness and from his excitement over the cookies he swore were the best on the planet.

“Yeah,” you shrugged, smiling at his reaction.

“Thank you,” Will spoke quietly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell.

You reached over the console and placed your hand on his, giving it a squeeze as he rubbed his thumb over the top of yours, his features soft and his eyes full of something more than just gratitude at your gesture.

Hours ticked by without notice as you laid comfortably on a large blanket on the sand, the warmth held in it from the sun radiating through to your bodies, watching the sky change into bolder hues of orange and pink as night began to settle in.

“This is amazing, Will,” you thanked, feeling so spoiled to have been treated to the most wonderful date you could’ve ever dreamed of.

“I wanted to take you on a proper date,” he began, lacing your fingers together where he fidgeted his against yours as he spoke. “We haven't exactly done things right.”

You looked at him surprised, tilting your head. “No? That’s not what I think.”

Will set his lips in a straight line and let you continue.

“What constitutes something as being right?”

“I don’t even know,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I was in the same relationship for so long and it was so wrong…” He paused, taking a big breath in and then sighing it out. “I just want this to turn out right.”

“I think as long as we’re having fun and feeling good about it, there’s nothing that could be wrong.”

Will nodded his head in agreement, smoothing his thumb across your knuckles. “Isn’t it a bit nuts though? How fast it’s all happening and how good it feels?”

You considered his words, repeating them in your head as you thought up your response. “Yeah, of course I’ve felt that way…almost like it’s too good to be true, but I’m not going to sit and wait for the other shoe to drop and expect it to go south just because things are going so well.”

Will remained silent, clearly processing each word carefully as he always seemed to do.

“Do you think we’re moving too fast?” you asked, not wanting to make Will feel smothered or scared, recalling your conversation in his bedroom the other day.

“In theory, yeah,” he admitted, “but at the same time I feel like I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then use me until you’ve had your fill,” you offered, knowing you would never regret falling hard and fast for him even if it ended in disaster.

Will’s eyes darkened, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his neck as he swallowed thickly, like he knew no matter how hard the two of you tried, this high level of lust between you would always be present in the midst of all the ways you truly cared for each other, that kind of chemistry not cheapening anything you had together.

Not wanting to say the words you did feel, you propped yourself up on your elbow, leaning over him in order to look at him completely, pulling your entwined hands to rest on your chest where your heart beat rapidly.

“I really like you, Will.”

You wanted to say more, to say everything, but hoped that was enough to assure him that what you thought you had was true, that every touch and kiss and moment spent with him was genuine and real.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward in a smirk, the tension previously held in his face faded away as you brought your lips to his and kissed him, slowly and purposefully, melting into him even more when he reached his hand up to cradle the back of your head to deepen it, his other hand smoothing up your back to press you closer to his body.

Will lifted himself off the blanket, turning so you laid down on it instead, his knee driving between your legs to spread them apart as he settled on top of you.

Your kisses never stopped, alternating between fervid and languid, wanting to consume and savour each other all at once, your hips rolling together eagerly to work you both up into a frenzy.

His hard cock strained through his jeans, humping and rubbing against your cotton panties that were soaked through, your dress lifted up to your midsection where his hands tore at your flesh desperately.

Although he was ready to fuck you into tomorrow right there, the grittiness of the sand that he already felt on his skin reminded him of Benny’s warning, and parting from you reluctantly, Will looked at you spread out beneath him, his chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“Your place?” he panted, the way you were looking so fuckable making him rethink his decision to relocate somewhere more comfortable.

You gave an enthusiastic nod, both of you quickly gathering and repacking everything you brought in order to get to your house as fast as possible so you could pick up where you left off, the pause in such craveable foreplay almost cruel.

Will threw everything in the bed of his truck without care and turned toward where you stood leaning against the passenger side door, licking his lips before grabbing your face and crashing against you in another heated kiss.

You moaned as your body slammed against the steel, your hands roaming his form that was tacky, his shirt damp on his skin, inhaling deeply in order to try to breathe even more of him in.

Your fingers dug into the thick muscle on his shoulders when his hand slipped down your body and landed between your legs, his long fingers slipping in your panties to run through your slick that coated you.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, always amazed at how wet you were for him.

“I don’t think I can wait,” you breathed, speaking against the shell of his ear as he steadily moved his fingers in and out of your warm and readied hole.

“Me either.”

His response came out as a growl as he removed his fingers from you and opened the door to the backseat, climbing in it to sit and unbuckle his belt and peel the zipper down on his jeans.

Your mouth watered as you watched him lift his ass up off the seat and shimmy his jeans and boxers down, his huge, hard cock springing free.

“Come here,” he beckoned, extending his hand for you to take so he could help you in and position you on his bare lap.

You slammed the door behind you, giggling as you sat down on top of him and reached up to take hold of his scruffy face, kissing him through both your smiles as he chuckled at the same time.

His large hands smoothed up your thighs, dragging your dress up as he went, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips which prompted you to begin moving against him.

You ground down on his length, smearing the viscous arousal that sat heavily in your panties along your aching sex, moaning into his mouth at the sensation that had you seeing stars already.

The truck was sweltering, but neither of you cared, your focus only on each other and your goals of reaching the highest point of pleasure, feeling sweat accumulate at the back of Will’s neck where your fingers danced on his searing skin while your own beaded with moisture that began to drip down your chest.

Will moved his mouth away from yours, angling to kiss along your jawline and down your neck, alternating the press of his lips with an indulgent suck, and when he got to your chest, his tongue glided across your slippery skin in broad swipes, licking your sweat as his hands moved from your hips to tear at the straps of your dress.

In one tug your breasts were exposed, allowing Will to dive his face between them with a low growl, your hands clawing at his head as he took turns rolling his tongue around each of your nipples while you steadily ground on his lap.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you gotta let me in there,” he pleaded, his voice rough and his eyes wild when he peeled himself off your chest and lifted his hips up to press into you more at the same time you bore down on him.

“Yeah?” you teased, rolling yourself harder on his rigid, leaking cock. “How bad do you want it, Miller?”

“Fuck!” he chuckled, bucking up into you compulsively.

He slotted his mouth with yours again before taking your lower lip in his teeth and biting down, pulling until it was released. “I want you so fucking bad, baby.”

You smiled against his lips, “Then have me, Will.”

Without wasting anymore time, Will hooked his fingers in the crotch of your panties and roughly pulled them to the side, taking hold of his cock to guide it to your entrance and watching with furrowed brows and a slack mouth as you sank down over him, taking him inch by inch into your soaked flesh, the sight adding to his craze.

He cursed again, stretching and spreading your lips with his girth, his size causing some resistance even with how wet you were.

Once he was fully seated in you, he let his head fall back on the seat, letting out a relieved moan as he basked in the feeling of being completely encased by your body, holding eye contact with you as he reached up and brushed his thumb on your cheek.

“I missed you,” you spoke, wanting to say more but hoping those three words would portray how much you cared for him, not feeling shy in telling him you craved his presence and felt a void in his absence.

“God, I missed you too,” he answered, placing his hand to cradle the back of your head to bring you closer to him, resting your foreheads together.

You breathed together, the hazy, thick air in the truck making it difficult in addition to how charged everything was between you, and you nudged your nose against his as you whispered. “I missed having you inside me.”

He sighed and brushed his lips on yours, feeling you clench around his cock without otherwise moving, this moment of honest intimacy complimenting the desperation you felt only moments ago to get to this point.

“Yeah?” he asked, flexing within your walls, making you moan and rake your fingers across his scalp, his hands smoothing down your mostly-naked body back to your hips where he took hold of them and started to force you to rock again.

You hummed, that pleasured sound growing to a broken moan as you accepted his guidance and rolled yourself on his cock, your clit rubbing on his wheat coloured pubes that lay against his lower belly, your lips finding each other instinctively where your kiss quickly increased in fervor along with everything else.

The heat was one thing to navigate, but the lack of room in the back seat of his truck was another, Will’s large frame filling it out to the point he didn’t have much space to move, his knees knocking against the back of the seat in front of him. Neither of you cared though, making the most of this steamy moment, focused on making up for the time apart even if it was only less than forty-eight hours since you last had skin-on-skin contact, feeling no shame at all in needing each other this much, this often.

All-in.

The words you had agreed on echoed in your mind, the promise sparking even more arousal in you, feeling the need to prove to him just how true it was with your body and allay any hesitation or doubt he had in his mind.

Your hand pressed up against the upholstered covering on the ceiling as you dug yourself down harder on him, riding him in a pace you knew was close to getting you both, motivated to feel him swell and burst inside you at the same time you crumbled apart on him, your mouth pressing on his firmly as your tongues delved deeper. It fell onto the window, smearing your handprint in the condensation before finding its way back to Will’s body, both of your hands now gripping his broad shoulders for support, your legs burning from your efforts as you kept a steady tempo, feeling your orgasm building deep within you.

Will held onto you tighter, his moans reverberating into your mouth as they increased and his cock released its generous load inside you, coating your walls in thick spurts of his hot spend, the feel of it leaking from you and lubricating you even more tossing you into your own climax.

It was like your mind and body separated from each other, a blinding, numbing effect making your mind go blank while your body acted on its own, continuing to ride him wildly to chase each aftershock at the same time your limbs began to go limp from such intense pleasure that was quickly turning over into exhaustion.

Your chests rose and fell sharply against each other as you panted in search of proper breaths, his hands reaching up to smooth your hair out of your face where it clung to it with sweat, and you opened your eyes to see him smiling weakly, but satiated at you.

His head shook slightly side to side almost in disbelief, his eyes full of ardor and his smile growing to bring out the lines beside his mouth as he watched your own smile stretch across your swollen lips.

“Think we’ll make it to your place now?” he grinned, sending you a wink.

“Hmm, I’m still not sure,” you purred, causing him to raise his eyebrows out of amusement and surprise.

The next two nights went just the same as any other, trading off sleep in favour of sex, your days spent rushing through the work day to meet at the gym to workout together, followed by making dinner before quickly retiring to Will’s bedroom.

Regardless of what little hours of sleep you did manage to get, Will had never felt so rested, your presence and energy bringing him a calm he hadn’t experienced since he joined the military all those years ago, his nightmares becoming less and less to the point he didn't fear his head hitting the pillow each night.

Even though you weren't with him tonight, the effects you left on him still lingered, a sense of ease and contentment gracing him as he climbed into bed, your scent left behind on the pillow that sat next to his to remind him of you as he took a deep breath after settling in.

But it was all short-lived as his mind immediately went to the letter he'd received that morning, one that in theory was good, but tainted what he had just started building with you.

The all-clear was given by his therapist and the U.S. Army to resume active duty, and a date to deploy was typed in bold at the bottom.

Will sighed, splaying out his hand on his stomach that had been closed tightly in a fist, having expected the other shoe to drop in the perfect world he had found with you, just not so soon.

A slight sense of panic began to rise up through him, turning his skin a hue of pink as he broke out in a sweat, his breath shaky when he closed his eyes and focused on the simplicity of inhaling and exhaling, hearing your soothing voice count the seconds in his head rather than his own.

Will promised himself everything would turn out fine, rolling over onto your pillow where he continued choosing to focus on you over the anxieties that were steadily creeping up, the cool air from the fan on the dresser blowing on his hot skin. He breathed out again, as slow as he could manage, imagining you beside him to kiss his worries away and how your bare skin would feel against his in the mix of the humid heat and slight reprieve from the fan, and somewhere between thoughts of you and his imminent deployment, he fell asleep.

Kill.

It’s what he was trained to do.

Everything he knew was predestined to violence and something he never thought twice about in the moment.

Duty.

An order.

A job.

The screams subsided to a wheeze, and as he pressed his forearm harder against the straining neck in front of him, a gasping sound strangled out of the mouth that opened and closed, trying to suck in even the tiniest bit of air.

Hands grabbed and clawed at him, anywhere they could reach, desperate and frantic, their last efforts giving Will a slight struggle as they fought for their life, only to have him force his grip tighter.

Their movements grew sluggish, feeling their body begin to turn limp in his arms, the flailing arms sloppily hitting him as gurgled noises choked out of them.

Then silence.

Will released his hold, only to be fooled, his captive suddenly righting themselves and bolting forward and away from him.

He couldn’t keep up, his feet hardly moving off the spot where he had stood, his assigned hit escaping him and leaving the Delta Force soldier failing in his task.

Then they fell.

By some fate, a rock or ledge in the concrete floor tripped them, their helplessness shown in how their body splayed out weakly and defenselessly.

Confidence erupted in him, each step powerful and booming, closing the gap between the hunter and prey in a few short strides.

Will grabbed the back of their neck and hoisted them easily off the ground, flipping them over so he could see the face that had almost made a mockery out of him.

It wasn't any one given person. A mix of faces he's seen over the years. Features of those he caught glimpses of before completing their execution.

His hand clamped around their throat, crushing their windpipe with a compression that felt superhuman, watching their bloodshot eyes bulge involuntarily, the blood vessels in them and in their face bursting with each second he cut off their air.

More attempts to claw and rip his hand from them, only to flounder, forcing Will to add his other hand to accomplish his goal.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the moment to pass, feeling their resistance slacken under his palms, their engorged pulse that pumped wildly against his fingers slowing.

Then he heard it.

A voice so familiar he could pick it out anywhere.

It was so faint, but clear as day.

“Will!” they called.

You called.

His eyes tore open, only to see your lifeless face resting in his hands.

Will shot up out of bed with a scream, his entire body drenched in sweat, gasping and gulping for a breath he couldn’t catch.

Your pillow was wrung up in his hands, his grip still so tight on the prop used to mimic your throat, the shock of what he’d just dreamt making him toss it across the room as a heavy wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks.

Will gagged as he flew out of bed and bolted to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time to be sick, his entire body lurching and heaving as those images continued to haunt him.

When he was sure he had nothing left to throw up, he collapsed on the floor, his back thudding against the vanity, rubbing his hand over his eyes and face in an attempt to wipe away the tears and sweat that mixed together.

Your face that was stilled by death kept flashing through his mind regardless if he opened or closed his eyes, feeling tortured by his own self for creating such a nightmare let alone continuing to torment him with it even after waking up.

He rocked against the cabinet, tearing his hands through his hair, his sobs coming out loud and uncontrollably.

He needed to see you, needed to know if you were okay, that life still breathed through you and you'd look back at him with the love and kindness in your eyes that you always did, your smile bright and vibrant, but he couldn't move. Frozen in place, he couldn't even manage to get back to his room to get his phone and call you, his terror and false grief immobilizing him.

Eventually the sound of Benny’s footsteps coming in registered in his pounding head, feeling his brother's hand rest on his shoulder before sinking down to the floor to sit beside him, his silence a comfort that Will knew he could always rely on.

---

Part 6

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @christinhunnam @hp-hogwartsexpress

#will miller #triple frontier #will miller x female reader #charlie hunnam #will miller x reader #will miller smut #will 'ironhead' miller #charlie hunnam characters #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller #triple frontier fic #will miller fic

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kaikoikei · 2 months

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( 𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗔 )⠀𝖬𝖮𝖱𝖯𝖧𝖮𝖲𝖨𝖲

／⠀free gdoc template

⠀⠀a⠀／SITE THEMED⠀prose & muse template — to imitate a minimal black & white site with compact formatting and text. it's meant to be very simply to use with extreme comfort with customisation and utility. ⠀⠀＜METAMORPHOSIS＞⠀comes from an old server, accompanied with sci-fi themed remarks of distant humanity and anomalous backgrounds ― notations based off of a lack of humility inspired by ihnmaims.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗖𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 !

⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀images with rounded corners are drawings. ⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀every page has a separate table, and each are utilised by the "Table Options" > "Quick Layout" > "Centre". to make a new table on a new page, just select the whole table from another page, copy-paste and centre it through the quick layout. ⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀it's meant to be a high-contrast template, where it's best utilised with gradients or two colours. ⠀﹙ ✦ ﹚⠀it can be used for both simple writing or minimally as a character sheet due to the lack of components or sections meant for specific descriptions.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𝗨𝗦𝗔𝗚𝗘 !

⠀⠀DO NOT REMOVE CREDIT⠀the main credit source is a small four-pointed star ( ✦ ) either in the header of footer of the first page of my docs. ⠀⠀TO COPY⠀—⠀file > make a copy ⠀⠀TO COPYLOCK⠀—⠀share > settings icon ( ⚙ ) > uncheck "Viewers and commenters can see the option to download, print, and copy"

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#google docs template #gdocs #oc sheet #rp resources #template #google doc template #roleplay resources #site template #minimal #prose template #writing doc #writing

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cmdrfupa · 3 months

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Nanami x Reader

cw: sick terminology (our pookie is having tummy troubles), suggestive if you use a magnifying glass, overall fluff

thank you to @/saradika-graphics for the dividers! 💕

Art in header by the talented @nikawa_2ji! 💕

Being sick isn't exactly something that occurs for Kento. Together for seven years, you could attest to him being ill once. A 24-hour fever he overcame in 10. This bout certainly wasn't the case.

Kento went to the bathroom attached to his home office, clinging to what he felt were the last remaining pieces of his spirit while hurling for the third time since 4 am. Throwing his eye patch to hell for all he cared, he took his white t-shirt off, placing it under the running water before wrapping it around his neck. The cool sensation gave temporary relief from the wretched sensation of nausea.

Kento entered the hallway, thinking he was fine, only to begin dry heaving again.

"Ken?" You sat the container of flour down, turning your head to listen. He'd been up for a while, and you assumed he was out for his morning jog and maybe stopping at the market. "Kento? You okay?" Nothing.

"Ugh, fucks sake." he groaned as you heard a thump.

Taking your apron off, you hastily move toward the living room—another spell of retching leads to the hallway instead. The dimly lit hall brought you to your poor husband.

A shirtless, clammy, and disoriented Kento sat against the wall in the darkened hallway. "Hi, dear."

You crouched before him, touching his forehead to check his feverish skin, which immediately alarmed you. You pursed your lips before speaking up, "You're burning up, baby.."

"I don't know what's wrong. My stomach feels like it's being tossed around in a dryer," Kento spoke, taking short breaths between words, his light hair sticking to his forehead.

"We'll figure that out. But let's get you back to bed. Can you get up?" You placed your shoulder under him, and he slowly wrapped his arm around you, boosting himself up. "What have you eaten in the last 24 hours?" As you strolled, he shuffled beside you, his arm slung over your shoulder.

"Well, we had lunch here at the house, and then Itadori-kun and I went for a seafood dinner at a restaurant Kugisaki saw on social media."

Sitting him on the side of the bed so he could lie down, he propped himself against the pillows. "We had some sort of paella and maybe a few too many crab legs."

"Shellfish."

"How do you know?" Bringing his legs up on the bed, you fluffed the pillows behind him and brought the sheets out in case he needed to cover up.

"It seems to be the possible culprit from what you've told me. Or maybe someone handling your food was a bit unhygienic?" You walked to the bathroom, looking for the first aid kit under the sink to fish out a thermometer and anti-nausea medication. Finding it, you made your way back to Kento's side. "Open."

Eyes closed, he followed orders, the twisting pain in his stomach sending a shiver through his body. The beeping of the thermometer made him focus. "What's the verdict?"

"101.1, which means you're in bed until this passes."

A groan left the sickly man's throat. "It'll pass in a few hours, I'm sure.."

"Your optimism is cute," you kissed his head. Just focus on resting. I'll get you some water to start rehydrating, then get things cleaned up." You placed the nausea medication on his bedside. "And if the room starts feeling like a tilt-a-whirl, let one of these melt on your tongue."

The trip to the kitchen was quick, and upon returning with a glass of water, you watched Kento struggle to open the foiled Dramamine package.

You slide the package from between his nimble fingers. "I've got it, honey."

"What about the plans for my birthday? Gojo will be a nuisance if he thinks I'm faking to avoid his party."

"I know you weren't super excited about the party Gojo was planning, but I'll threaten him if he tries to get fly with me."

"My darling angel of a wife, thank you." He opens his mouth, and you place the tablet on his tongue.

"You owe me, Mr. Nanami." With a wink, you get him comfortable in bed, placing another pillow behind him as he begins to doze off. "I'll come check on you in a bit."

Kento wasn't sure when you got your wings, but he appreciated having an angel to tend to him. So patient and willing to be by him. Honestly, he didn't know when you got the halo, either. He didn't think you were a full-blown angel until this moment. "A literal angel, wow-" words slurred, and your wings seemingly much more vibrant to him as he passed out into a deep sleep. Ken promised himself he'd verify the angel allegations when he was more fit for thinking.

Day 3 of the stomach virus showed progress despite a rough start. Kento kept trying to force himself to feel better, thinking cat naps would suffice over a good night's rest. But his nausea was a reminder to take it much slower. He watched you prepare for work: a simple black knee-length dress, nude-colored stockings, and his favorite shoes. "The Manolo slingbacks?" Kento perked up in bed. "You know, I'm feeling much, much better today."

You peeked from out of the bathroom. 'You're supposed to be sleeping, not checking me out."

"My love, I'm feeling better than before."

"That's not how this works. You still have a fever, and rest will help get rid of it."

"I am resting; I'm in bed, having bone broth, and not working."

"If you don't want me to go to work, all you have to do is ask."

He'd be lying if he said he didn't want you to stay. He had not tried his luck the past two days, but today was different. Kento was needy and required more comfort to sleep. Was this the man cold? He thought he was above that.

"Please. I promise I will sleep if you stay home with me today."

Your heels clack against the wooden floor as you go to his side of the bed. "Take your aspirin, eat a few more spoons of porridge, and I'll hold you while you sleep." a gentle smooch on his cheek earns a soft smile from him. "Let me call Gojo and tell him he'll be handling training today."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Nanamin. I didn't know he'd get sick! I ate way more than he did and felt perfectly okay this week." you called Itadori a few days ago to see how he was feeling. He was more than okay, finding him out with his peers shopping when you called.

Now, he sat across from you in the dining room, a gift bag decorated with 'get well soon' craftily written across it sat next to him as he ate another croissant. The teen was worried he'd killed the man just from the restaurant recommendation alone. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Yuuji, nothing you've done is the result of this. The food didn't sit well with him." You take another sip of coffee before reassuring the stressed teen. "He's been resting and getting better the past four days. He'll be better and back on campus by the end of the week."

"Well, can you let him know I dropped by?" Yuuji stuffed the last of his croissant in his mouth before sipping the hot cocoa and dusting his hands on the napkin. "Some of us got together and made a care package. Gojo made him some ladyfingers, Takuma got him some cool handkerchiefs, Nobara bought him one of those spa gel masks for his frown lines, and Fushiguro found an apron that says 'kitchen boss' he thought he'd appreciate… we want to keep his spirits up while he gets better."

"He'll appreciate knowing you stopped by. And the thoughtful gifts." Grabbing a small container, you went to the kitchen in a few paces. "The rest of these are yours. I'll be closely monitoring Nanamin's food intake for a while, and pain au Chocolat won't be helpful." You strategically place the croissants in the container, handing them to Yuuji. "Be safe getting back to campus."

"Will do, Mrs. Nanamin! You're amazing. I'll call to check on him tonight!" The teen hugged you quickly before making his way out of the door.

"Are there any objections?"Nanami looked around, confident there was nobody idiotic enough to-"Wait! Please!" A pale blue-haired worm slithered down the aisle. The guest gasped in shock as the tubular creature began to morph into a human. "Don't go through with this. I love you more than life itself." Mahito stood in front of you, naked with a ring box in hand.Nanami looked at you, eyes wide. "My beautiful bride, please. Please think of the life we're building. I love you so much."" I'm sorry, Ken. I tried hiding my feelings, but my heart is with Mahito." You let go of Nanami's hands, rushing into Mahito's embrace. "Happy Birthday… Nanamin." The wickedness of Mahito's tone brought Kento to his knees.The guests all stood and began to chant, "Over time for eternity," as the church hall slowly faded into a pool of purple liquid.Gojo kneeled next to Nanami. "Kento, it's not the end. You still have me, yeah?.. honey… Ken?" Your sing-song voice was filling his head."Gojo? You sound like my wife."

"Gojo?" confused, you shook his shoulder to wake him. "Kento, wake up."

He sprung up, lungs empty and gasping for air as he looked around.

"You aren't Gojo!"

"Do you want Gojo?"

Profusely shaking his head, "I'd rather not."

"You were having quite the fever dream, it seems."

"It was an absolute hellish nightmare." He grabbed the water from the bedside, glugging it before you took the glass from him, sitting it down. "How long have I been asleep?"

You smoothed his bedhead hair, kissing Kento's temple before lying back with him. "Well, after lunch yesterday, I couldn't wake you up to save my life, but that seems to have been a good thing. Your fever broke. How are you feeling?"

Kento wrapped his arm around you, pushing the covers off with his free hand. A soft huff of comfort released as he felt the midday breeze flow through the room. "Makes sense; I feel so well rested. My stomach feels so much better. But Itadori-kun and I will have our weekly dinners here at home for a while."

"That's more than okay with me. I like it when he visits. I'm always glad to see him, and he also seems happy to come over."

"He'll be happy to know this. Our next dinner is for my birthday; he's been trying his best not to spoil my gift."

"We have plenty of easy-to-digest meals for the next few days while your stomach settles."

"Yes, dear," he playfully retorted. Nothing sounds better than an easy-to-digest birthday dinner," he jested, pulling you into his bare chest.

"Oh yeah. Yuuji brought you a care package. He and a few others put some rather lovely items in."

Eyebrows raised, Kento seemed surprised. "Itadori was here? Not sick?"

You nodded. "Left about an hour ago."

"How am I the only one who got sick?"

"To be fair, the boy likes to eat. And he did eat an ancient finger once, so.." shrugging your shoulders as Kento attempted to stifle a laugh unsuccessfully.

"You bring up a fair point. He can put it away."

Rubbing his belly elicits a quiet hum of a familiar tune. He stops and peers over to you. The rays of the midday sun cast a beautiful golden hue across the bed and onto your shoulders. Kento studied the soft features that structured your face, the feel of your plush leg thrown over his as you hummed the Jimmy Eat World melody. The lack of almost claustrophobic closeness over the last few days has done a number on him.

His rich brown eyes found yours, and warmth crept up the nape of your neck as his lids lowered. "I have something planned for us."

"Something planned?'

"I didn't want you to plan anything for my birthday because I did. It's a birthday and pre-anniversary getaway of sorts. We're going to the hot springs."

Your lips puckered, landing pecks across his chin and neck. "Hot springs? Kenny baby. Do you know how perfect that sounds?"

"Indeed I do. Two weeks of solitude with my angel baby."

"Two weeks?"

"Two. Weeks."

"2 whole weeks?"

"Darling, if you repeat after me again, I'm going to assume you can't hear me."

Getting three consecutive days was pulling teeth. "What did you do to make Yaga go along with two fucking weeks?"

Kissing your shoulder, he brought your hand to his mouth. "Not much." lightly began to kiss each of your fingertips. "We just have to visit the Kyoto campus," He pressed his lips to your wrist to feel your pulse. "For a few days."

"Hm." you squinted as you read between the lines. The exchange event wasn't quite yet, but there were talks of development training that needed a few more grade 1 sorcerers for demonstrations— "You volunteered us for that combat training."

Kissing your palm and making his way up to the crease of your elbow, he wriggles between your legs until hovering over you.

"Nanami Kento."

"Are you going to be upset with your stomach pain-riddled husband? On his birthday, no less. Who loves you more than life itself? Who worships every cell in-"

"I'm getting a new swimsuit," you said, stopping his sweeter-than-honey ramble and kissing his chest. And I'll make sure Gojo reschedules the party, birthday boy."

"And I'll be there with a shit-eating grin the whole night. My wife is getting a new swimsuit for my eyes only. I can sit through 2 hours of Gojo and everyone else. Best birthday ever."

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #jjk kento #jjk nanami #kento x y/n #nanami fluff #lu.logs

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sweetyyhippyy · 2 years

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Full. Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader. *SMUT*

(No my pictures. My header.)

Summary: Eddie’s girlfriend has an insatiable appetite for something in particular tonight.

TW: There is no plot. This is just porn. So much breeding kink. So many cream pies. Begging. Talk about pregnancy. Eddie dirty talking. Little bit of praise. Taking pictures post sex.

Word Count: 1K

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her whole body was vibrating against his, her nails digging into his shoulder blade as she felt her tight hole get filled to the brim for the third time in less than an hour.

Eddie’s head comes up from being buried in her neck, his curly bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. He looked way more fucked out than she did. “Fuck, baby.” He whispers against her lips, barely audible to her. He shuts his eyes, groaning as he shifts slightly. “Gotta pull out.”

“No no no.” She whines, gripping onto him harder. “Again.” She bats her eyes up at him, sliding her hand from behind his neck to hold one side of his face. “Please, I want more.”

“Baby, you’re overflowing with cum. It’s leaking out of you.”

“Eddie,” She whines pathetically, wrapping her legs around his waist to keep him inside her. “Just one more, please? I want your cum so bad.” She reaches up to kiss him, slipping her tongue into his mouth.

Eddie’s own fingers dig into her outer thigh as he gives her a few shallow thrusts, really just pushing all of his cum deeper inside her. He feels her whole body go limp under him, making him pull back from the kiss to look down at her.

Her eyes roll in the back of her head, her head following and rolling back on the pillow below her. “Yes.” She gasps.

Eddie couldn’t hold the cynical smile on his face back as he looked down at her. “What has you so cum hungry?” The head of his cock nudges her sore cervix, still making her ache for him.

“I want you to fill me up more.” Her eyes were round, heart shapes practically in her irises as she looked up at him.

Eddie let’s out a little laugh. “You want me to fill this pretty pussy up? What if I put a baby in you?”

Her cunt squeezes around his cock at his words, butterflies going from her pussy up to her stomach followed by a low whimper as she wraps her legs around his waist.

“Oh, you want that don’t you? To put a baby inside you? That why you’re cum hungry?”

“Yes! Yes I want you to get me pregnant. Put a baby in me.” She moans out loud, slamming her hips down to meet his movements.

Eddie rolls his head back, grunting loudly. “Keep going, princess. Just like that.” He halts all his thrusts and let’s her fuck herself against him. “That’s a good girl, drain all my cum out of me.”

She holds on tight to Eddie with both her legs and her arms wrapped around his back. Her lips press kisses to the side of his neck, racking the top of her teeth against his pale skin. It wasn’t until she felt her orgasm build up that she starts to suck a hickey into neck.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum. Keep going, my sweet girl.”

She squeezes her legs tighter around his waist, pushing his lower half deeper against her. “Please, I wanna cum too, wanna cum too Eddie.”

Eddie’s face was buried back between her head and her shoulder, grumbly groans and throaty moans being sung in her ear. “Fuck!” Eddie gripes loudly, his body stiffening while he shoots his white ropes inside her again for the fourth time tonight. “Fucking take it, fuck.” Eddie growls in her ear.

She could feel all of the cum leak down to her ass, more than likely pooling down on the sheets below her. Eddie didn’t even have to move anymore for her to reach her orgasm, her muscles clenching around him as she grasps him in desperation of closeness. All she could manage was loud, screaming moans in his ear before she sunk into the mattress, fluttering her eyes closed.

The sound of her heartbeat was filling her eardrums, drowning out the other sounds in the room.

Eddie kisses across her chest and collarbone, letting her calm down. “You with me?” His voice sounding miles away as his finger wipes a bead of sweat from her forehead.

All she manages to do is whimper in response and wrap her arms around his sweaty body, burying her face deep into his chest.

“Baby, I have to pull out, it’s starting to hurt.”

She slowly unwraps her legs from his waist, letting them fall onto the mattress still open.

Eddie grips the base of his softening cock and slowly starts to pull out, making both of them wince out loud.

“Eddie.” She cries, trying to pull him back towards her, the emptiness and ache making her start to cry.

“I know, baby, I know. Shhh.” He coos at her, kissing her cheek as he finally leaves her hole empty for the first time in hours. “Can I look and see how pretty your pussy looks with all my cum?”

She nods her head, cowering behind her hands as she watches him lean back on his knees and spread her pussy lips apart.

“Fuck, you are so cute. Stay just like that for me?” Eddie asks with an excited look on his face as he reaches for the Polaroid camera on his bedside table. He once again spreads her lips apart and snaps a picture of his cum leaking out of her. “Oh fuck, just seeing this is making me hard again.”

She can’t help but giggle at him. “I think my pussy needs a small break.”

Eddie takes the picture and places it on top of the table along with the camera, wanting to get under the sheets with his girl. Once he’s settled on his back, he pulls her toward him, letting her head rest on his chest while he presses endless kisses to her head. “There’s no way I didn’t put a baby in you.”

His statement pulls her back to earth, making her up at him with heavy hooded eyes. “Kinda hope so if I’m being honest.” She says in a quiet voice, turning onto her belly, feeling the cum shift slightly inside her which makes her scrunch her face up in slight discomfort.

“And if I didn’t,” Eddie starts, grabbing her as soft as possible by her neck and bringing his face closer to hers, their lips touching softly. “We just gotta do that again.” He whispers into her gaped mouth before kissing her hungrily, having every intention of having more rounds tonight.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem! reader #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munsonxreader #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x fem!reader

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 2 months

Text

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge: Unleashing the Power of Muscle

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

In 1962, a new era of muscle cars emerged, radiating brilliance and power. Chrysler led the way with their groundbreaking Max Wedge lineup, introducing the world to the fusion of unitized-body construction and the high-performance ram-tuned dual-carbureted 413 CI engine. Among these legends was the Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge, a remarkable vehicle that holds a significant place in automotive history.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

The First Super Stock Max Wedge with Manual Transmission According to the esteemed Chrysler Registry and the meticulous documentation by Darrell Davis, this specific Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge holds a groundbreaking distinction—it was the first Super Stock model equipped with a manual transmission. The car’s odometer displays a mere 6,593 miles and has undergone a meticulous restoration process to return it to its original specifications. Notably, the engine has been upgraded, boasting a dyno-proven power output exceeding 500 HP.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Unleashing the Power of the 413 CI V-8 Engine The 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge was powered by the formidable 413 CI V-8 engine. This was the first iteration of Chrysler’s renowned ram induction system, featuring a cross-ram intake manifold meticulously designed to optimize engine efficiency. The engine’s performance was further enhanced by the utilization of cast-iron header-style manifolds, which were rarely preserved but featured in this exceptional vehicle. Dale Reed of California refreshed the engine around 300 miles ago, ensuring its optimal performance. The correct Carter AFB carburetors reside beneath dual black air cleaners, accentuated by carefully placed decals.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

A Unique Manual Transmission Experience One of the distinctive aspects of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge is its manual transmission. Unlike its automatic counterparts, this car delivers a unique driving experience through its floor-mounted shifter, allowing the driver to truly feel the power at their fingertips. Paired with a full aftermarket exhaust equipped with cutouts and the robust 8 ¾ Chrysler differential, this Max Wedge offers an exhilarating ride for those who crave the thrill of the open road.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Captivating Style and Authenticity The exterior of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge embodies the spirit of the era. Finished in captivating light blue paint, it exudes a timeless charm. The interior features a complementary blue cloth-and-vinyl combination, while the white-and-blue two-tone trim adds an elegant touch. The front and rear bench seats provide comfort, and the radio delete plate pays homage to the car’s performance-focused nature. Notably, it features a knee-knocker S-W column-mounted tachometer and a beautifully presented trio of rubber pedals. The car’s attention to detail is evident throughout, with the inclusion of circa-1962 chrome fonts, single-lens tail lamps, and OEM steel wheels adorned with poverty-type hubcaps.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Provenance and Documentation Accompanying this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge is a wealth of provenance and documentation that adds to its allure. It includes the original OEM IBM punch card and build sheet, which serve as a testament to its authenticity. Additionally, the window sticker provides insight into its original specifications, while the dyno sheet confirms its impressive horsepower rating. Vintage photos capture the car’s early years when it was part of a famous drag car collection, showcasing its illustrious past.

1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge

Conclusion The 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge stands as a testament to the golden age of muscle cars. With its groundbreaking manual transmission configuration, powerful 413 CI V-8 engine, and captivating style, it represents the pinnacle of Mopar’s storied performance heritage. Meticulously restored to its original glory, this Max Wedge allows enthusiasts to experience a bygone era’s raw power and timeless charm.

FAQs: How many miles does the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge have? The odometer of the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge reads 6,593 miles. Who documented the Chrysler Registry for this particular car? The meticulous documentation of the Chrysler Registry for this car was done by Darrell Davis. Has the engine of the 1962 Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge been upgraded? Yes, the engine of this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge has been upgraded to a dyno-proven 500-plus HP. What is the significance of the 413 CI V-8 engine in this car? The 413 CI V-8 engine in this car was the first to receive Chrysler’s shortened version of ram induction, known as the cross-ram intake. It maximizes engine efficiency and pairs it with rarely preserved cast-iron header-style manifolds. What documentation and provenance come with this Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge? This Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge comes with various documentation, including the OEM IBM punch card, build sheet, window sticker, dyno sheet confirming horsepower rating, and vintage photos of its early years as part of a famous drag car collection.

#Plymouth Savoy Max Wedge #Plymouth Savoy #plymouth #Max Wedge #car #cars #muscle car #american muscle #mopar #moparperformance #moparnation #moparworld

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vampirzina · 8 months

Note

Could you do MK11 Fujin and MK1 Syzoth with a reader who has piercings on her tongue and eyebrow?

tw: she/her (but mostly you) pronouns, mdni, sfw (intended), established relationship, hcs, piercings and the like

notes: i didn’t put a header for this just in case. i also had been racking my brain for fujin content after seeing an edit of him w the caption asking for fic content. i’ll think of more ideas later i swear but for now happy happy happy

masterlist : divider credit

Fujin isn’t a stranger to piercings, at all. He’s seen plenty of them in his time, in all kinds of places—so not the one to judge if she has one either. Fujin finds the piercing on your eyebrow rather cool, having noticed that first about you but doesn’t ask anything about it. But when you stick your tongue playfully out at him once, he can’t help but ask about both of your piercings.

When kisses with Fujin get deep, he tries not to make it obvious that he’s fiddling with your tongue piercing. Not only is it fun, but he loves your reaction when you finally realize. His face is already flushed from the act, but the cheeky smirk he gives you in return makes you playfully huff at him.

Naturally, thoughts wander through Fujin. Though they are mostly innocent, none of them really see the light (carried into the wind rather), out of respect for her, to spare her from the littlest bits of selfishness, and the tiny tiny part of him that fears her response to him—even if it’s not a bad one at all. He rather not play russian roulette with words.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Fujin, tangled in the sheets of your shared bed and awaiting you there, watches you at the vanity as you undid your look. You rub the tip of your index over the slightly sore spot of your undone eyebrow piercing, hissing lowly.

Your eyes hurt from today’s work, and all you wanted to do now was just… Rest. You couldn’t not address the white eyes boring into your face, however.

“Before you ask, I’m fine,” you retort, clasping the piercing together. You set it with the rest of your collection. “Just tired.”

“I’d believe you even if you told me that your skin was as colorful as a rainbow, when it is clearly not,” he jested lightly, and you missed the way his eyes flit to your lips. “I was not going to speak. I just wanted to… Look.”

“The right word is stare, I think, but if that’s what you’re doing to me I’ll take it,” you stood, strutting over to the bedside. Before you got in, “You look like you have a question.”

He hummed a bit. Then, “None.”

“You sure?” you lift the very same brow he’d been staring at, getting comfortable beside him, but suddenly your gaze hardens. “Wait, don’t tell me. If we’re getting married, don’t you dare propose right now.”

Fujin gives the heartiest laugh you’ve heard from him yet, leaning down to barrage you with kisses as he gets comfortable with you.

───

Fujin needs to kiss you at least once a day.

Syzoth doesn’t think anything of it until he really sees it. He notices it when he’s close to her, cuddling into warmth to duck from the cold night. Maybe it’s his wandering mind as he gets tired, but to say he’s intrigued in it in its entirety is a bit of an understatement from him. If anything, he finds that he likes it on her. Of course he asks about it when you wake, and he feels a bit stupid for not asking earlier. Syzoth asks why and how bad it hurt, and that’s about it. If you’re human, he learns something new when you tell him about the commonality of it between humans.

Kissing Syzoth is an experience you couldn’t get over. Unlike Fujin, he doesn’t toy with your tongue piercing on purpose, but he’s going to brush over it a couple times if the kiss gets all that heated. He’s conscious of himself and many things after that, but surprisingly enough, your piercing there makes him feel a little less conscious of his tongue when he kisses you.

Syzoth offers you jewelry for your piercings. He’s sure somewhere in Outworld and beyond there’s those who sell such things, sometimes he even confuses earrings for them. But once he finds the right stuff, it’s nearly impossible for him to not buy up the entire store. He loves to collect the shiniest and prettiest ones he thinks you’ll like, and occasionally the ones he thinks you would look good with. Syzoth comes home with at least a pair of either or once every few weeks.

،، ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

He finds you where he left her—under a tree in the shade from the sun. She sipped the cool drink as she admired the scenery of the place around her.

You’d been wandering with Syzoth through the markets of Outworld for your morning and the better half of your afternoon. Your feet ached, you complained, and being the gentleman Syzoth is carried you here. He said that you’d both go home soon… However, he wasn’t going until he snuffed out the urge by just giving into it.

“About time. I was starting to think you were halfway across the realm. Where’d you run off to?” you squinted in the soft breeze, lips pursing a bit as you watch him fumble with the bag he was trying to give you.

…You look inside.

“I didn’t buy the whole store this time,” Syzoth pouted from her months-old tease. “With the way they were presented to me, they practically begged me to buy them. Not only that, but they were so you-esque. How could you want me to resist?”

“Because I’d like to think you’d want to buy food to eat, Sy,” you joked, holding them in a hand to inspect them. You can see the way he pouts further, if you somehow couldn’t hear him mutter.

“‘M kidding. Do you think that I’m so ungrateful when I was lucky enough to find you?” you immediately follow up to put him at ease. “They’re absolutely gorgeous, Syzoth. Thank you. I’ll try them on when we get home, okay?”

Syzoth, a bit hot in the face now from her flirt, nodded fervently at her. Whether or not she wanted to be carried wasn’t up for debate.

───

Syzoth scours beaches and caves for beautiful material someone can craft into jewelry for you.

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

info board

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #fujin x you #fujin hcs #fujin x reader #syzoth x you #syzoth x reader #syzoth hcs #vampirzina #mk1 x reader

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fox-guardian · 6 months

Text

Commissions are now OPEN!

[ID: A commission sheet with a purple, green, and orange background. A header reads "Fox-Guardian's Commissions!" with their fursona -- an orange, green, and purple fox with tentacle horns -- pointing to themself and saying "That's me!" Below are examples or different types of commissions. The first row is sketch commissions featuring Samama Khalid standing awkwardly with a confused expression. The first is less detailed and uncolored with more cartoony proportions and is marked as $10. The second is more detailed and uncolored with more realistic proportions and is $20. The last is the same level of detail as the second, now with flat colors, and is $30. The second row are lined commissions featuring Falin Touden standing and waving with a smile while holding her staff. Each are marked with lines for bust, waist-up, and fully body sizes with prices at each level. The uncolored lineart prices are $20, $25, and $30 respectively. The flat colored prices are $55, $60, and $65. And the fully rendered prices are $85, $90, and $95. Below is a footer with OP's fursona doodled at the bottom saying "I accept USD via Paypal! DM me for my order form!" and a list of things they will, won't, and might draw as follows: Will Draw: - Furries/Anthros - Humans/Humanoids - Non-explicit pinups - Simple robots

Won't Draw: - Explicit NSFW - Offensive/Hate - Mechas - Real people

Might Draw: - Gore (Realistic or Pastel) - Non-humanoid Monsters - Pets/Non-humanoid animals

end ID]

~~~~

I am opening THREE (3) commission slots for the time being!!

Not doing backgrounds, just a flat color, either your choice or white (or transparent)

Up to 2 characters, each will be priced fully (i.e. a Colored Sketch of one character is $30, so a Colored Sketch of two would be $60)

I'll do fanart or OCs

the rendering style isn't strictly the mostly cell-shaded, partial soft shaded style shown here if you'd prefer a different one i've done before. whichever you pick would be the same price <3

as the sheet says, DM me if you are interested and I will send you a link to my commission google form where you place your order, and will get back to you on whether or not I accept within 3 days of your form being submitted!

a couple more notes:

payment is upfront, and commissions over $30 must be paid partially upfront and partially throughout the process

if you are not 100% certain you will have the money to pay for a commission, please do not order one (if you get a big one tho and realize you can't afford the full thing after it's partially completed, we can arrange a downgrade so you can afford it if you'd like)

whether or not I accept a commission depends mostly on whether or not I feel I have the skill to execute it well. even it fits into the "will-draw" criteria, I may still not accept it

more information can be found in my form, thankies a bunchies uwu <3

#fg's art #commission sheet #the magnus protocol #tmagp #samama khalid #not tagging dunmesh since i've literally Never Drawn For It Before and that feels weird to immediately shove a commission sheet in there #yknaur?#but sam is here and we love sam <3 #ANYWAY this is exciting and terrifying <3 let's get this bread #also i hope the ID is okay. writing descriptions for this stuff is tricky let me know if i need to change anything!!

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nyazhis-jsablr · 9 months

Text

BotB - Challenge 2 RESULTS!

“W-Welcome back to the Battle of the Blixers… Urrghh….. My stomach…”

“Maybe this challenge wasn’t a good idea…”

“Huurp… A-Anyways… Let’s get on with the voting results..! Yeaah… ugh… my stomach hurts… too much”

VOTING RESULTS

EXTRA POINTS (btw all the headers will be voting point so ignore that)

“Again, zim’s Blixer takes first, followed closely by Eclipses, who seems to have gotten some small help, and next is Moxir! yeah!!!” “So let’s get to the extra credit…”

“First off, I’ll make one thing clear. I LOVE SWEET FOODS!!!! burp- Kunzite, Corruptix, a job well done..!”

“On the contrary, spicy foods are the bane of my stomach. Sorry Eclipses, but I hated your pasta, although the pie redeemed it a bit…”

“Anyways, let’s get to the extra-aH HURGH-“

Step cannot talk right now, as he is busy vomiting somewhere outside the White Room. So the following parts will be done with no accompanying dialogue.

TOTAL POINTS

CURRENT LEADERBOARD

@blixersupremacy @anonymously-night @woahtriangle @fim-and-echo-co @starwlf @jsabaddict @zim-card @robotwithanr @thecorruptmatrix @appri-dot

(btw, contestants please gimme your blixer’s ref sheet in the reblogs or smth as ill need it for a later challenge, but if you dont have one just give some clear images of your blixer)

#jsab #just shapes and beats #jsab blixer #battle of the blixers

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clubdionysus · 4 months

Text

[BAD DECISION #30] Evaluating the Meaning of Home

warnings: to busan we go!!! kook is driving, yummy <3 , v fluffy, jk using the birds as an excuse!!! i spy with my little eye something beginning with.... b!!! ends in 'is jealous! and territorial!' !!!

a/n: this header was almost lost to the void, but I had a screenshot of the chapter to put on insta when I first published it lol, so it's a screenshot of a screenshot of a screenshot (of a screenshot?? (technically)). but it also mean I know the exact date of this og upload--31 march 2023. waaaa so long ago

wc: 6k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

You're rushing around your apartment by the time Jeongguk shows up at your place again a few hours later.

He'd given you time to get packed and ready, but also had taken the time to get his things together, too. His visit to your place the night before had been unplanned, so he'd lost the morning to get ready. He's like the white rabbit today - late, late, late - but it's inconsequential. Doesn't matter. It's a piss-easy drive, even with rush-hour traffic.

A quick call to his mum had been made, just to let her know you'd be joining him. She offered to make up his brother's room with fresh sheets before Jeongguk had even asked.

"It's fine," Jeongguk had said. "I can sort it when I get there-"

"It's no bother," she had assured him. "I don't want her thinking I can't keep my house in order! You'll sleep in your room, yes? Or would it be better if you were in Jeongmin's room? Might be strange, considering they don't know one another."

"Mum, he moved out a decade ago," Jeongguk laughed. "It's just a spare room."

"It's still your brothers!" His mother had reprimanded him. Fiercely proud of both her boys, she never wanted either of them to think they didn't have a place to call home. "Just like your room is still yours. Still has your little Spiderman posters up and those Girls Generation pictures next to your bed-"

"Put her in Jeongmin's room," Jeongguk had cringed. Knows it's full of baseball memorabilia, but would rather you be overwhelmed by his older brother's Lotte Giants obsession than his teenage girl crushes.

"Suit yourself," his mother had laughed. "What time should I expect you? What would you like for dinner? What did you say your friend's name is again?"

A million and one questions were asked, so Jeongguk's 'quick' call had taken far longer than he'd intended.

When he arrives at your place, he apologises. You simply shake your head. Invite him in.

"Just give me a minute," you say. "I'm running late, too."

He doesn't oppose. Notices your bags by the door, so offers to take them down to his car - of which you gladly accept, until you glance over to him and notice, well, him.

In jeans again, partially inspired by the pair of yours he'd stolen that morning to go to the shops, the shirt he's wearing is white. Isn't as baggy as his usual style is. Tucked into his jeans, a belt secures everything in place. You're reminded, again, of why Jeon Jeongguk is a menace.

But the white of the shirt against his tan skin is so heavenly, it's impossible not to stare; tattoos out, as if it isn't still chilly outside. Coat must be left in the car, you assume.

"Hey, hey," you call after him, hand outstretched to beckon him back. Nod toward his neck when he turns around. Your admiration for his appearance had drawn your attention to the marks left by your lips. "Can't be going home with your neck looking like that. Let me sort it out before we head off."

"My neck?" Jeongguk questions, reaching up to hold it, pressing his palm down to try and figure out what you mean - and then he remembers. Gets a little bashful. Giggles. "Ohhh."

And so he traipses back to your apartment and hops up onto the kitchen counter, bags on the floor. Dangles his feet as you rummage around for your concealer and pigment corrector in your room. You've only packed essentials with you to go to Busan. Think it will be better for your skin if you let the ocean air get well-acquainted with your pores.

Silence takes place of your usual banter as you come to stand between his legs and get to work fixing the mess you made on his skin. There's a neutral calmness to the way you both like to exist together; without pressure to perform, or appear likeable, or personable.

Hair down, Jeongguk toys with it just to give him something to do. Has a hairband on his wrist - one of yours - so decided to annoy you a little. Pulls all your hair to one side and starts to tie it up in a ponytail.

"Stop," you hum, a little smile on your lips as you dab product onto his skin. "I'm trying to focus."

"I'm helping," he says. "Getting your hair out of the way."

"Was never in the way," you grumble.

"Was," he objects.

Pulling away from the task at hand, you stand a little straighter. Raise your eyebrows, your hair making you look like an awkward singer from the 80's. Teeth on show, dimple etched into his cheek, Jeongguk looks far too pleased with himself. Reaches for your wrist, and pulls your spare hairband off it. Has another idea, now.

"Back to work," he says. "Haven't got all day. Chop chop."

Scoffing, you're about to refuse - but Jeongguk knows this. Knows he's being a cheeky bastard just to get a reaction, and now that he has? Kinda regrets it. Hooks his dangling legs behind yours. Hairband hooked over his thumb, his hands sink around your throat. Pulls you closer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he grins. "Don't go. Please fix my neck."

Narrowing your eyes, you ignore how pouty your lips feel; how much they wanna close the gap between you and him.

"I'll fix your hair," he promises.

"Fine," you say, purely because the way he's holding you close is unbearable . You need to be out of his grasp immediately. Focus. "But not because you want me to. I'm only doing this because I don't want your parents to think poorly of me."

"My parents are gonna love you," he mutters as you get back to work, his hands gently prizing the hairband from your hair and letting it fall loose. "And who cares, anyways? Not like you're my girlfriend. Don't need to impress them."

"Doesn't matter," you say as you tap out the half-dried concealer on his throat. "Still want them to like me."

"Like I said," he shrugs, tying your hair up again, this time splitting it down the middle. Left side first, then right. Two cute little buns. "They will. Already told them a friend is coming with me. Had to really reinforce the fact you're just a friend. Should have heard mum when I said you were a girl-"

"Oh, God," you grimace.

"Honestly, I thought she was gonna get my entire family on a group call just to tell them her little boy is growing up," he laughs. "Was bitterly disappointed when I said you were just a friend. Had to tell her you used to have a thing with Jimin-"

"You told her what?!"

"Calm down!" He laughs. "Said you dated, not that you fucked him and went back for round two even though he didn't make you-"

"Jeongguk!"

"Sorry," he lies. He's not sorry at all. The smirk on his pretty lips attests to this. "Easier for us both if she thinks that there's like... nothing."

"There is nothing," you remind him.

Jeongguk's dreamily dark eyes roll. Head shakes. "Careful. Your nose will start growing, Pinocchio."

Looking down at you with a fondness reserved for only... well, you , Jeongguk thinks you look so silly with your hair in little lopsided space buns. Glitter in the corner of your eyes, there's a charming quality to the way you present yourself to the world. Cute . Your appearance is quite different from your personality, and yet they go hand in hand.

A My Melody girlie, yes, but there's a reason you seem to get on so well with a Kuromi boy. You and him are cut from the same cloth; different and yet so similar.

"Big noses are hot," you shrug.

Jeongguk fights a smile. Knows his isn't huge , but that it's been noted as 'well-proportioned' a few times by girls he's dated. Been a selling point. Wonders if maybe this is your way of giving him a compliment without directly saying as such. Chooses not to press, just in case it isn't.

Neck fixed as well as it ever will be, you're quite pleased with your work.

"Let's go," you encourage, not caring to change your hair. Will just fix it in his car. Haven't worn your hair like this in ages and it's always cute - even if you know he was trying to make it look ridiculous.

He lets you walk ahead. Grabs the recycling that needs to be put in the little trash pile on the corner of your street, not thinking much of it. Just saves you a job when you get back.

His car smells just like it always does; leathery and a little musky. Manly. You'd be lying if you said you didn't like it, but you figure he's not to thank for it.

It takes you less than five seconds to notice the origami birds up on the dash, where you both know your feet will end up within half an hour.

"Oh?" You sound, not really asking anything, yet Jeongguk knows what you mean.

"Been on my desk for ages now," he says - and he's right. They fell weeks ago. Have been cluttering up his space. "Figure we may as well do them seeing as we have some time together."

You laugh a little, shaking your head.

"I've not forgotten earlier," you tell him. "You ain't getting fuck all from me when it comes to the birds."

Jeongguk just grins, sinking his key into the ignition and starting the car up. He glances over to make sure your seatbelt is on, before knocking it into first and setting off down the sideroad your apartment is up.

"Read it," he says.

"Which is yours?"

"Not even gonna give you an answer for that one, B," he deadpans, flicking up his indicator to merge onto the main road. "Use your eyes."

Cringing, you hum out a small " ah ."

The birds are like yin and yang; complementary and yet entirely different. One is pristine, folded perfectly, still holding its shape. The other? Well... the other is yours. A little lopsided, and definitely not your finest work, it even has a few specks of glitter that dance in the light cascading through Jeongguk's windshield.

"Fair enough," you admit, reaching out for his.

Unfolding it, you can't help but feel a little apprehensive. Nervous. It's a while since any of the birds have been done, and you -

"Oh, you mother fucker," you laugh as soon as you open it. "You got me here under false pretences!"

Written in his handwriting is an oh-so-convenient fear:

Take a girl to meet my parents.

"No, I didn't!" He protests, voice a little whiney. "I didn't! I swear. I genuinely do think you need some clean air, you little goblin - but like, two birds, one stone."

"I've been bamboozled," you whine.

"No, you haven't!" Jeongguk chuckles, finding your little faux tantrum all very endearing.

"I have," you insist.

"I'd forgotten all about it when I asked," he admits, knowing that you'll likely think it's bullshit.

Is proven right when you scoff a very bratty, " bollocks ."

"It's not bollocks," he says, almost choking on his sweet little laughs. "Honestly, B. I saw them when I was getting my stuff together and figured if we do them now, it will be one less bird to worry about in the future. We do have lives to live, yanno. Can't be doing birds forever."

"Why not?" You retort a little too quickly. "Actually, yeah, no. You're right."

"Exaaaaactly," he hums, smug in your confirmation that he'd made the right choice. "Haven't looked at your bird yet, so whatever that is? Yeah. Don't blame me."

Part of you doesn't want to open it. It feels sort of embarrassing, knowing how sweet all of Jeongguk's birds are compared to yours. No matter how endearing his are, yours always seem to be vulgar - and while you know Jeongguk would never oppose them, it makes you feel a little insecure.

You do all of the things with him because you wrote them down. They're your desires.

But Jeongguk has proven time and time again that there's nothing to be embarrassed about.

So you open it.

Read it in your head.

Smile .

Feel your heart flutter like the petals of falling cherry blossom in early spring.

"What?" Jeongguk says softly, noticing the curve of your lips as he glances to the side. "What is it, B?"

"Cute," you admit. "It's really cute."

"Okay..." he waits for clarification.

"It's like, the nicest one I wrote," you say, secretly pleased with yourself.

"Which is...?"

"Holding hands," you simplify the bird. Don't shout it like it's written down, all caps, and an abundance of exclamation marks. "Just like... Down the street, I guess. Publically."

"Holding hands?" Jeongguk questions, completely confused by everything you are. "Sorry, holding hands ? What happened to mutual masturbation? Showering toge-"

"Shut up," you cringe, holding the now flat paper up over your face. Mortifying .

Jeongguk's playful nature doesn't relent, one hand on the steering wheel, the other reaching over to you. His long fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling the cover from your rosy cheeks. The energy between you is electric, yet entirely calm; a contradiction. So perfectly you .

"Holding hands," he chuckles to himself quietly, shaking his head with such fondness it's hard to remember a time when interacting like this wasn't normal for you both.

A friendship formed in the dizzying haze of Dionysus, nurtured over iced coffees and acrylic paint; there's something good between you and Jeongguk. Something rare. Something worth protecting.

And when Jeongguk slides his fingers between yours, setting your hands down on his thigh, you can't help but feel safe. He'll guard your deepest fears like the fiercest companion you ever imagine, yet softly encourage you to face them with Midas' hands. You'll become golden where you once felt brittle, and Jeongguk will be the one to blame.

When you glisten, and men unworthy of you see the beauty of your restoration, they'll pillage. Take what he's fixed; rob you of your worth. Perhaps you should be angry at him. Perhaps he's setting you up for destruction.

But how lovely it is to feel somewhat whole, again, even if just for a while.

"It's not what the bird meant," you say softly, pretending as if your heart isn't beating a mile a minute. Perhaps it does scare you more than you realised.

"It's what it says," Jeongguk replies just as sweetly.

He's not wrong, granted, but there are layers to this. There always is. He knows this. Just sort of wanted to hold your hand.

"I know," you nod. He holds your hand a little tighter. Anticipates an explanation. Doesn't think you need to explain it at all, but knows you will regardless. "It's just that -"

God, Jeongguk thinks. Know you so well.

"- My ex, like, would never hold my hand. Or at least, he did, but then he sort of used it like a punishment. When he was pissed off with me, he'd refuse to hold it, and like - I'm not a baby ," you quickly interrupt your story to downplay just how hurtful it always was. "I just... It was different, you know? I was so used to holding the hands of the people I loved, and then it was like 'oh, I got a little too much glitter on his new tie' and my hand wouldn't get held for the rest of the weekend."

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. You're starting to understand why Seokjin hated your glitter so much. It's the same reason Jeongguk loves it so much. It's your calling card. I WAS HERE carved into wooden benches as a teenager; love locks secured to bridges around the world. To see glitter on their skin is to see evidence of you. Your existence. Your role in their lives.

The glitter must have made it hard to cheat.

It's a devastating realisation. One you wish you hadn't made. One you'll never be able to forget.

Jeongguk's grip on your dainty, ring-clad fingers tightens.

"Your ex needs fuckin' therapy," he growls. "Had no right making you feel like that."

You just shrug. Jeongguk's grip loosens, thinking you're trying to pull away, but is comforted when you don't. He strokes his thumb over yours, soothing your woes.

"Think we all need a little therapy," you offer a small, sincere smile.

"You're probably right," Jeongguk admits.

"Anyways, let's not think about that," you say, pulling your hand back now, folding your bird back up into its original pattern. "Road trips are made for forgetting exes, not thinking about them."

And with that, Jeongguk presses no more on the topic. Lets you connect your phone to his aux. Is thankful he dragged you along, 'cause you really do need a break, maybe even more than he does. Your life has been go-go-go since the moment he met you. It's partially his fault, but he hopes he can make up for it, now.

Thankfully for him, if there's one thing you enjoy about being Jeongguk's friend, it's riding shotgun in his car.

He handles it so well that you wouldn't be surprised to discover he's the son of a racecar driver, or maybe had been on in a past life. There's an ease to how he manoeuvres - and even though car guys are pretty high up on your list of boys you never wanna date, he does make you reconsider this. Never before has a man reversing ever gotten your panties wet - but a hand behind your headrest, the other flat against his steering wheel as he ignores the automatic sensors and drives according to what feels right?

Mhhhm. Has you thinking maybe the passenger princess girlies know something you don't. You always assume guys with nice cars are overcompensating for having a small dick, but Jeongguk has already proven this theory wrong.

Still a little frustrated from the way Jeongguk had worked you up a few hours earlier without giving you a release of any kind, you squeeze your legs together. Sink further down into your seat. Decide that thinking about his dick in any capacity is a bad decision. A distraction is needed.

"I spy with my little eye," you sigh, looking out the window for inspiration. The world passes by in such a blur that it's hard to pinpoint something. Everything is a rush of brown and beige, winter killing off the lush greens of the mountains that you miss dearly. It's been like this for months, and will remain this way until March, at the very earliest.

"Something beginning with?" He asks, entertaining you without a second thought.

"Something beginning with... R."

"Really sexy boy?" He asks without missing a beat.

"Ddaeng."

"Hmmm," he hums. "That's the only obvious answer."

"I can't see any sexy boys, though," you pout. "Let alone really sexy."

"Okay, firstly, that's rude," he tells you with a small huff. "And secondly, give me a clue. Inside the car or outside?"

"Inside."

"So... A really sexy boy?"

Laughing, you shake your head. "Really big idiot, more like."

"Is that the answer?!"

"No," you giggle. "Think smarter, Koo."

"I am thinking smart," he insists. "And what have I told you about calling me that?"

"That it will give you a raging boner?"

"Well... True, but no. Don't do it."

"Because it will give you a raging boner?"

"Oh my God," he exclaims. "R! Raging boner!"

"Do you have a boner?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "Meh. Bit of a semi."

"Fucking hell, are you ever not horny?"

"Rarely."

"Such a boy," you laugh. "But no. Not raging boner. C'mon, Gguk. It's easy! Think!"

Jeongguk spends almost 8 minutes guessing. Eventually, you have to tell him.

"Radio?!" He shrieks when you reveal it as the answer. "You can't see the radio!"

"It's right there!" You point towards the screen displaying what's currently playing on his aux.

"That's a screen!"

"Oh don't be so pedantic," you laugh. "Okay, okay. Redo. Your go."

"Fuckin' radio," he mutters, shaking his head. "Okay. I spy with my little eye..."

Feet up on Jeongguk's dash, you ignore him every time he tells you to take them down. Sometimes he reaches over and forces them down. You always just put them back up ten seconds later. Let him think that maybe this time you'll follow his orders - but you're still reeling from his little power play in bed this morning.

Like fuck you'll do anything he says. Not today.

"If I crash, your legs will impact your chest," he warns. "Knees'll go right through your ribs."

"So don't crash," you say, knowing that such a comment will only earn a defensive take from Jeongguk - and you're proven right.

"I know how to drive," he asserts, and he kind of reminds you of your own father, and how much he hated your mother's backseat driving. "But it's other fuckers! There are some idiots on the road!"

You snort a little laugh. "Yeah. You're right about that."

"Maybe I will just crash my car," Jeongguk mutters, but it's all in good fun.

You're both smiling; both pleased for things to be feeling normal between you again. You may bicker about the tiny things, but it's only because you feel so secure in the big things. How lovely it is to have a friend like him.

"You'll do no such thing," you tell him with absolute certainty. "You love this car too much."

Jeongguk doesn't reply. Hums a small indication of agreement, but chooses not to elaborate. Given the choice between you or the car? He'd crash it a hundred times over if it was the only way to keep you safe. Cares so much more for the girl in his passenger seat than he does for the vehicle she's in.

It's not a long drive - only about an hour - but Jeongguk takes the scenic route. It's been a while since he's had you here, and he likes it. Likes the subtle notes of your perfume filling the car, and the way you quietly hum along to songs on his playlists.

When he fills up the gas halfway along the journey, you grab the snacks. Ask him what he wants, and roll your eyes when he says, "surprise me."

The service station is a little dated; white walls peeling, display signs relics from better days. A small complex, there are just a handful of food stalls and a small CU. The sweet scent of fresh pastries wafts through the air, thanks to a small tent out the front where a man easily three times your age is using a wooden skewer to turn hodu-gwaja in their mould.

As far as you're concerned, it's not a road trip (no matter how short the distance) without a paper bag full of red bean-filled, walnut-shaped bread. Jeongguk always seems to go for the saltier snacks when you're together, though, so you head inside first. Scope out the options. Spot a small stall frying tornado potatoes and trust your intuition when it compels you to pick up one for Jeongguk.

Returning to the forecourt, the skewer with a spiralled potato in one hand and your brown paper bag full of pastries in the other, you wait for him to notice you.

A hand on the nozzle of the pump, he's nearly finished filling the tank. Goosebumps are on his arms, the regret of not tossing on his coat written all over his face. The nozzle clicks, diverting Jeongguk's attention from the distant mountains he'd been gazing over towards, realigning his thoughts and focusing him in on the world around him.

Takes no more than half a second for his eyes to find you; black padded jacket keeping you warm, your smile peeking just above the top of the fastening. Hair up in a couple of space buns, your eyes are the focal point of your face, all glittery and gorgeous.

Yet it's the food he focuses on, tummy rumbling.

"For me?" He mouths in your direction.

Nodding enthusiastically, you crouch down to take a seat on the steps that lead up to the food complex as happiness blooms over his features. Jeongguk raises a fist in the air, and shakes it. Bites down on his bottom lip; closes his eyes. Silently cheers. Makes you giggle.

Across the forecourt, there's a small group of girls. Around your age, you think. Eyes on Jeongguk, they're muttering to one another; no doubt enthusing about the fact he looks like daydream in this dreary service station. Radiates gold in a town of chalk.

As he heads towards you, you can't help but think about how you'll be perceived. Know that it's incredibly easy to incorrectly judge a friendship like yours. It's a tale as old as time, how a guy and a girl can never be 'just friends'. The girls will see you and will assume you're a couple.

Your smile widens as he approaches. You hold out the tornado potato before he reaches you. It's deliberate.

It's me, you think. I'm the one he's walking towards. Not you.

A strange thought, for someone who is just a friend.

Curious, and pathetic, and a little juvenile. The gossiping continues.

They're pretty girls. Probably lovely, too. Personalities to magic their magic-perms.

You've no reason to be thinking harshly, and yet when Jeongguk is close enough to take the snack from you, and you use your now free hand to pat the ground beside you. Indicating that he should sit, you deliberately choose the side away from the girls.

"Legend," he says, chowing down without much thought. Would usually check the temperature with his hand, but has just filled his tank. Hands are probably filthy. "Ah, fuck," he hisses as he breathes in a little air to cool the red-hot potato he's already got in his mouth. "Hot."

Laughing, you apologise.

"Sorry. The lady running the stall fried me a fresh one," you explain.

The rest of the potatoes had been sitting out for a little while, or so you had been told by the sweet lady. Her actions were benevolent; a small kindness bestowed upon a shooting star. Karma is very real, and it'd be foolish not to treat a cosmic entity with such generosity. Wise in her years, she wasn't about to let you pass her by without wishing for a little goodwill.

Jeongguk shakes his head, swallowing that first bite. "Nah, it's fine. It's good. Hit the spot," he says, then holds it over for you. "Want some?"

The answer is no - all you really want is the hodu-gwaja - but the girls are still looking at him, so you accept his offer like the petty little bitch you are. Bite straight from his stick. Rip off a little more than you intend to, and get Jeongguk laughing.

"Save me some!" He jokes, but you simply shake your head.

Cheeks rosy, you struggle to get it all down in one bite. "I paid for it."

"You're getting a free ride," he reminds you, to which you can't argue against.

Speaking of nothing much, just whatever comes to mind, the small break from the journey is welcome. You remain seated on the stairs even after you finish your food. The girls depart before you do.

"Think they were in love with me," Jeongguk says almost as soon as they leave. You choke on your pastry. "Wow, really that unbelievable, huh?"

He's just joking, but is no stranger to stares. Works in a bar. Knows that he's desired, even if he has no desire to act upon it most of the time. It's all superficial shit he doesn't care for.

"Got an ego on you today, don't you?" You laugh.

"Had a girl calling me Daddy in bed this morning," he teases you, nudging against your shoulder with his own.

"Fuck off."

"So yeah," he admits, ignoring your curse. "The ego got a good stroking."

He kinda wishes it was something else that had gotten a good stroking instead, but he's trying to behave himself. Nearly fucked things up all because he fucked you when he shouldn't have. Is trying to fix things.

"Your ego will be your downfall, Jeon," you assure him, getting to your feet, taking his empty skewer from his hand to toss everything in the bin together. "No one likes a cocky bastard."

"So why are you walking away, then?" He teases. "Can't control yourself when you're around me, huh?"

"I'm telling your mum," you warn, as Jeongguk gets to his feet also, patting down the crumbs from his thighs.

"Oh yeah?" He indulges in the flirt. "Whatcha gonna tell her?"

"That her son is acting like a little fuck boy," you assert. "She'll be disappointed."

"She'll also know it's bullshit, B," he shrugs, toying with his lip ring. He'd make the perfect fuck boy, you think, if only he was an asshole. "My brother is the one that fucks around. I've always been an angel."

"Is your brother single?" you joke.

"You can't tell me off for speaking like a tool and then expect me to set you up with one," he laughs. "Stay the fuck away from my brother."

"He's older right?" You ask, ignoring his warning.

"Right."

"I love an older man," you dreamily sigh as you head back to Jeongguk's car.

"I don't care," Jeongguk says, voice stern, but you pay it no notice as you reach his car. He was gonna open the door for you, but when you're being like this? No chance.

Instead, he tugs on your wrist to turn you around. Gets you facing him. Walks forwards, still. Stops only when your back meets the side of his car.

He traps you in place; hands on the roof, one on either side of you. He looks down. Looks dead centre in your eyes. Looks like sin.

"You can't go around collecting up the people I care about like Pokemon cards, B," he husks. "You've already had my housemate."

"Had your housemate twice," you correct, just to wind him up a little more. He's too easy when he's like this. Easy to wind up; easy to please. All you'd have to do is say 'I won't', and he'd accept it - but where's the fun in that?

He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Lets his nose nudge up against yours.

"You can't have my best friend and my brother."

"Why not?" You whisper against his lips.

"'Cause I told you earlier, B," he whispers. "I get jealous."

"That's a ' you' problem."

"You'll destroy a family," he tells you with such conviction you believe him. He's learnt to never lie to you. His jealousy? It's as honest as it gets.

"So I can't fuck your dad either?" You tease, just because you enjoy Jeongguk showing his true colours. You might like an older man, but not so old he could be your own dad. Already know you'll have nightmares from Jeongguk making you call him Daddy that morning.

"Gonna be in my city, B," he reminds you, ignoring the threat because, honestly, the idea of it repulses him. "Ain't no way you're gonna fuck anyone that isn't me in my own goddamn hometown."

"No?"

"No," he whispers as he nudges his nose up against yours. Lets his lips brush yours. Doesn't push down. Wants to so badly. That semi of his from earlier? Yeah. It's hard, now - and he does let that press against your tummy. Lets you know that he's thinking about fucking you, then has the audacity to say, "Behave yourself."

"Fine," you smirk with casual arrogance. Jeon Jeongguk has buttons, or so it would appear. Pushing on them is just as fun as you'd imagine. "Won't fuck your dad."

"Thank you," he breathes out a small laugh. Pulls away a little to press a kiss to your nose. "My brother is out of town, anyways. Couldn't even if you wanted to."

Shrugging your shoulders, you turn to face the door, and let him linger for a moment. The parking lot is virtually empty, but this is still far too heated for such a location. The proximity of his positioning is sinful; his hardness digging into your lower back.

It's not like you didn't know this would be the case. You did it deliberately.

He deserves it, after the little stunt he pulled earlier.

Hair still up in little space buns, Jeongguk decides he needs to compliment you more often when your hair is up. Likes your neck. Or having easy access to it, at least.

His lips press a chaste kiss to the curve of your neck before he pulls away.

Watching as he gets around to the driver's side, bulge in his jeans painfully obvious, you voice a theory that you know is gonna soften him right up.

He can thank me later, you think. Doing the duty of a good friend!

"Shagged you, anyways," you hum. "You're all related so you probably have, like, identical dicks. No point in me fucking them, too."

Fingers hooked beneath his door handle, Jeongguk looks over to you, disgust written all over his face. "What is wrong with you?"

You just smile. Shrug. Pop open the car door, and get in. Call to him, "Shall we get going?"

Jeongguk thinks of the conversation you had earlier about crashing his car. Doesn't seem like such a bad idea now.

"We're turning around," he assures you. "There's no way I'm letting you meet my fucking parents."

"What was it you said?" you giggle, thinking of his stupid little insult from earlier. "That if your mum meets me, then she'll stop begging you to bring a girlfriend home? You're welcome!"

The rest of the drive is marred by stupid bickering and playful conversation. There's no need for discussions of anything hard, nor heavy. Hayun feels like a distant memory, and you're yet to reply to the message that pinged through from Seojoon as you were getting ready to leave your place.

It's just you and your best friend; an open road with the ocean on the horizon.

Jeongguk spots the sea first. Doesn't mention it, 'cause he wants to let you 'win' the unspoken game of 'first to see the sea wins'.

"Gguk!" you gasp when you do eventually see the cerulean beauty of Busan. "The sea! Look!"

Worth it, he thinks.

His parents live a little further inland, but he'd deliberately taken you further down towards the seafront just for this moment.

"Home sweet home," he muses, knocking his indicator to signal he's turning off. The streets are always so crowded down by the coast, so as much as he'd like to stay close, he knows he's already running late. His mum is probably worried. "We can come back this evening. I'll show you my old haunts."

It's a simple invitation, much like the initial invite for you to come with him. Jeongguk doesn't think too hard about things like this. Decides what he wants to do, and offers you the chance to join him.

"Please," you enthuse. "I've never been here in the evening."

"Oh, it's the best," Jeongguk smiles. "Forget our city - Busan is so much better."

It's not. His opinion is driven by nostalgia. Hasn't had a night out in Busan since before he met you. Doesn't realise how much he'd miss you, if you weren't with him.

The roads he takes become increasingly less crowded. Closer to home.

It's strange, Jeongguk thinks. He normally feels a giddy excitement whenever he reaches this part of town; an appreciation for the place he grew up. It's that classic 'coming home' sensation that bubbles in your stomach whenever you first greet your mother during the holidays - and yet Jeongguk's giddiness makes no hike. Doesn't rise like he thinks it will.

At least it doesn't until he parks up, just down the street from his parent's place, and glances over to you.

That's when it hits .

And that's also when he knows he's absolutely fucked.

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bd #bad decisions

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