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#receiving nothing at all. when i do receive stuff it then feels foreign. n even for those who rlly do care

pb524830 · 2 months

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anyone else

part: 3 pairing: paige bueckers x oc word count: 3.3k c/w: slight mention of blood, language a/n: hi guys! so sorry this is probably much later than you expected, i've just been so busy with school and other stuff. here's part 3. let me know what ideas you guys have for other fics and what you might want to see :)

OCTOBER 2020

Ava you good? 8:24 PM

Yo I’m waiting at mine 8:43 PM

Avaaaa 8:46 PM

I’m going crazy thinking about you dude 8:52 PM

I’m serious 8:52 PM

Don’t leave me hanging like this 8:52 PM

I read over Paige’s messages tiredly. I feel so incredibly stupid. How many times has she used these lines on girls? Probably more than she can count. I nearly laugh out loud. Poor Paige, I think to myself. Keeping track of a roster like that while being such a shitty person must be hard. The hatred is bubbling in my chest, angry and scorching. It pushes me to my feet, out my door, and to Audrey’s room.

Before I know what I’m doing, I knock on the door, plastering a smile on my face. “Hey, what’s up?” Aubrey says brightly when she opens her door. “Nothing much. Who was that, though?” Audrey smiles sheepishly. “Swear you won’t tell anyone?” She asks. My heart pounds painfully. Paige had asked me to keep quiet about us hanging out, too. I nod nonetheless. “It was Paige Bueckers.”

I knew that. I knew that. But somehow, hearing it out loud hurts even worse. “How-how did y’all meet?” She giggles, covering her mouth. “Okay, you remember that night we were at the gym? Doing serve-receive? Like last month?” I nod, the thudding in my chest suffocating me now. “She ran into me and she just, like, asked for my snap. And she’s hot so I gave it to her.”

The night she walked me home. The same night she told me I was pretty and told me that my smile was beautiful.

She played me.

“Was she good?” I ask bluntly, my voice foreign to my own ears. Aubrey’s eyes widen. “Uh, yeah? Like, really good. Oh, my God - she did this thing with her tongue...” There’s a roaring in my ears all of a sudden.

She fucking played me.

“Avantika? Are you okay?” I nod, too wrapped up in my own thoughts and back away, stumbling back to my room. Had I liked her that much? Why does it hurt this bad? I glance around my room, my eyes landing on an article of clothing. Her hoodie. A UConn basketball hoodie. She’d given it to me after walking me home from practice one night.

She’d come to the volleyball gym just to walk me home. She told me I looked good in her clothes, but that I’d look better in her bed.

I’d slept in it for three days straight after.

I want to burn it now.

NOVEMBER 2021

The surprise party is at Paige’s apartment. I haven’t been there in over a year. But I find myself standing in front of her door, too nervous to knock. Which doesn’t make any sense, obviously. There’s no reason to be nervous; it’s just like any other party. I’m dressed in a strappy green tank top and cargo pants, my hair down and curly. Taking a deep breath, I rap on the door with my knuckles.

Paige opens it. My breath catches, and I hate that it does. She’s in a pair of blue shorts and a sports bra, drying her hair with a towel. Her hand drops to her side, towel in hand, when she sees me. “Avantika, hi.” I smile slightly. “Hey,” I reply. “Am I early? I didn’t wanna be late, so-”

“Nah, ur good. You can help set up, actually,” she tells me, shuffling to the side to let me in. Her apartment looks the same as I remember. I catch a glimpse of her familiar, ludicrous purple bed sheets through her cracked room door. I turn to her, inhaling deeply. “What can I help with?” I ask, holding out my present for Azzi. Her eyes linger on me, trailing over my body as she takes the gift in one hand and continues drying her hair with the other. “I blew up balloons, but I didn’t string them together yet. You mind?”

She sets the present on the counter, hopping up onto it. Her legs dangle off the edge, spread wide as she watches me string together balloons that say ‘Happy Birthday’. She fishes a dab pen out of her pocket and takes a hit. “You want?” She asks. I glance at her, shaking my head. She shrugs, tipping her head back to release the smoke. My eyes draw to her jawline, fingers going slack. I curse myself for still letting her have this effect on me. Her head lolls back forward, catching me staring. I see her mouth twitch into a smirk, ever so slightly, before she clears her throat. “You all good there?” She asks, gesturing to the balloon garland I’m supposed to be helping with.

I laugh shakily. “No, yeah. All good.” Paige shakes her head, grinning. “Here, I’ll do it. There’s a package in my bedroom with streamers. Go grab it?” I roll my eyes, handing the balloons and string over to her. “You remember which one it is?” She hums, eyes flicking to mine. My mouth twitches. I nod wordlessly.

The silence is so suffocating. I’m not used to being alone with her - at least, not anymore. I hate that her presence is still so intoxicating, that there’s still this undeniable force pulling me to her. I hate the way she laughs and the way she talks and the way she looks at me.

I get in and out of her room as quickly as possible, snatching the Amazon package off of her bed. I grab a knife from the kitchen to slice through the tape, but I’m so distracted that I accidentally slash my own finger. I hiss in pain, dropping the knife onto the counter with a clatter. “Fuck,” I whisper agitatedly, Paige’s head whipping up. “Avantika?” She asks. “All good,” I say, turning away from her, holding my finger to my chest, trying not to get blood on my top. It’s really flowing now, in rivets down my finger, pooling in my palm.

“Yo, Avantika,” Paige says, turning me towards her by my shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she breathes, grabbing my hand. “Okay, wait, it’s fine-” I try to get out, but Paige already has my finger in her mouth. My eyes widen as she licks away the blood, walking me backwards with her to rummage around a kitchen drawer. “Paige!” I say. She shoots me a look, taking my finger out of her mouth and wiping at her lips with the back of her hand. She fishes out a bandaid and an alcohol wipe.

“I can do it-”

“Hush.”

I shut up immediately, watching as Paige cleans my cut, shaking her head when I hiss at the sting of the alcohol swab. She tears at the bandaid package with her teeth and applies it smoothly, wrapping it tightly around my finger. “How’d you even manage that?” She muses. I narrow my eyes at her, snatching her hand away. “It was very strategic, actually, I wanted to slice my hand open-”

“Clearly-”

“What are you, fuckin’ pre-med now?” I demand.

“Might have to be, if you can’t take care of yourself,” she laughs, shoving me lightly.

I shove her back, smiling back at her. I can’t help it.

Her eyes meet mine. “No ‘thank you'?” She asks.

I scoff. “You put a bandaid on me,” I ridicule.

Paige’s eyes widen. “I could’ve let you bleed to death,” she says.

I gape. “You are so dramatic-”

“And you’re ungrateful as hell, come here,” she complains, grabbing at my waist and pulling me against her more or less bare torso, hands going to my sides to tickle me. I shriek with laughter, fighting at her, clutching at her hands to pull her away from me. But Paige is relentless, hands going everywhere, ordering me, “Say thank you! Say thank you and I’ll stop!”

“No shot!” I gasp, eyes welling with tears of laughter, trying to ignore the scent of strawberries that invades my nostrils.

“Say it!” She demands, an arm winding all the way around my torso to hold me against her as I fight harder.

“Yo, why the fuck is nothing set up?” I hear a voice demand. Paige’s hold loosens, but doesn’t relax. Her arms hang limply from my body, and when I see Evina standing indignantly in front of us, I shove her away. Paige clears her throat, backing up.

“Hi, Evina,” I say, my tone suddenly solemn. “Hi, E,” Paige says. She at least has the sense to look sheepish.

“Well, if y’all are done fucking around, Caroline’s about to drive Azzi back. Let’s get it together,” she commands, clapping her hands. Paige and I snap into motion, finishing up the decorations and hanging them up in a relatively organized fashion.

The party goes smoothly - Azzi does a good job of acting surprised, though I’m sure she’s well aware of what the girls were going to do in the first place. We cut cake and load her up with presents, before Paige calls for a round of shots.

And that’s when the night really takes off.

Soon enough, Paige has made some sort of insinuation that she can drink better than me, and I’m going shot for shot with her. She’s really putting me through it, knowing just how to push my competitive nature. Me, her, and Azzi begin alternating between vodka and tequila. We’re about 5 shots in before Aubrey and Christyn challenge Paige and Azzi to a game of beer pong. Azzi shakes her head adamantly. “If Paige loses because of me, I’ll never live it down,” she insists. “Ava will go!”

I protest immediately when Azzi pushes me towards the table, Paige in hot pursuit. “No way! I’m not playing beer pong with a bunch of basketball players,” I say indignantly. Suddenly, I feel Paige’s breath hot on my ear, and her hand at my hip. “Hey, I got you, okay? Trust.” Her voice sends shivers through me, and I feel my eyelids flutter. Damn her. I elbow her ever so slightly, shooting her a grin. She smirks back.

Paige dips a ping-pong ball into a cup full of beer on our side, shooting it to theirs. It swirls into their middle cup, and she hands me the other one. I mimic her actions, making it into the cup at the tip of their triangle. We get the balls back, and Paige makes another shot, holding up a 3 on her hand when it plops into a cup at the corner of their triangle. I giggle at Christyn and Aubrey’s annoyed expressions, staggering into Paige. She braces her hands on my shoulders, her chest vibrating with laughter. “You good?” she laughs. I look up at her, her stark blue eyes framed by long, dark lashes, her perpetual smirk. “Yeah,” I breathe. “You want help with this shot?” She asks.

Paige doesn’t give me time to respond before she turns me around, wrapping her arms around me to position my arms, then flicking my wrist for me. The ball lands in their middle cup, and the other two girls groan, reaching for the cups to chug them. I expect Paige to move away from me, to drop my arms the second I’ve made the shot. But her hold lingers, an arm looped around my waist as she laughs, jeering at Christyn and Aubrey, tossing them the balls out of pity. Her arms stay around me, my head leaning back against her chest, hands lingering on her arms, swaying to the music I’m too drunk to recognize, dancing with the girl I’m too drunk to push away. She doesn’t remove her arms from around me until she has to shoot again.

I don’t remember who loses or wins that game of beer pong. I remember the taste of beer in my throat. I remember Paige’s voice in my ear - “Shot of Pink Whit?” I remember Azzi giggling as she leads me into the kitchen, her arms linked with mine as we down the shot of pink liquid.

I remember Paige’s eyes hot on mine, her gaze challenging and curious.

I walk up to her, holding out a shot of Pink Whitney. “Drink,” I command. Paige takes the shot from me, not breaking eye contact. She tips it back down her throat, straight-faced, and then wipes her mouth with the back of her hand.

Fuck, she’s hot.

I clap gleefully, spinning away, but she catches at my waist, pulling me into her. “Avantika,” she murmurs. I cock my head. “Paige?” I ask. My heart is beating out of my chest, and I’m so drunk I don’t even realize how close we are. “Are you okay?” She asks sincerely. I nod happily, looping my arms around her neck. “Are you sure?” She repeats. I close my eyes, tipping my head back and laughing. “You don’t have to pretend to care about me,” I slur, lolling my head back towards her.

I must be drunk. I must be, because that’s not a flash of hurt that flits across her face. It can’t be.

So I continue.

“I mean, you never really cared about me, did you?” I scoff, hanging off of her neck. Her brow furrows. “Avantika, what are you-”

“You just wanted to have sex with me…” I say sadly, pouting, tracing her face with my finger. Paige’s eyes widen.

“It’s okay. I wanted to have sex with you, too,” I admit, shrugging, tapping my finger against her lips. Paige shakes her head. “Avantika, you’re drunk,” she says. My hands trail down to rest on her chest. “No, I’m not,” I say indignantly.

“You are.”

“No, you are,” I retort, getting frustrated.

“Ava-”

I push her away immediately. “Do not fucking call me that,” I spit. She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’m sorry,” she tries to amend, reaching for me again. I stagger away. “No, fuck you,” I snap. “Avantika, you’re so drunk right now. Please, just come lie down.”

She’s pleading with me. I hesitate. “Please,” she begs again, holding a hand out.

I hesitate. “Okay,” I whisper, taking her hand. She pulls me into her chest, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We stumble through the apartment, the din of conversation in music echoing faintly in the background. Dimly, I hear Azzi’s concerned voice cut through the haze. “Is she okay?” Paige nods. “She was trying to keep up with me,” she explains. “And you let her?” Azzi demands. “Look, I’m sorry-”

“Put her to bed in your room. And no funny business. She’s my friend.”

“Whatever, Azzi.”

Before I know it, Paige’s soft bedspread is tickling my nose. “Avantika, you want water?” She asks. I stretch out, nodding sleepily. “Here, sit up.” I let Paige feed me water, her fingers fumbling with the cap of the bottle. Then she lays me back down. “Sleep, okay?” She turns to walk out the door.

And then, like it has a mind of its own, my mouth opens. “Paige?” I whisper. She turns around immediately. “Will you stay?” I ask softly.

Wordlessly, she climbs into bed with me, kicking off her shoes. She wraps her arms around me, pulling me against her body, and I let her, breathing her scent in, happy that I get to touch her. I snuggle into her, too drunk to care about the implications of how close we are or what we were doing the last time we were both on this bed.

“Paige,” I say quietly. “Hm?” I shift to look up at her, tracing the line of her nose with my eyes. “I don’t actually hate you,” I mumble. She laughs. “You better go to sleep before you say something you regret,” she murmurs. I blink, not fully understanding her words. But I nestle against her chest, letting my arm loop around her waist.

“Avantika?” She asks after a few minutes. I don’t respond. I feel her hand tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “Ava,” she repeats, more firmly. I still don’t answer, too tired to move my mouth, humming softly.

Her breath whistles against my forehead when she says what she says next.

“God, I missed you.”

NOVEMBER 2020

“Ava.”

It’s just after a tough loss to Georgetown, and I’m exhausted. As soon as I exit the gym, though, Paige is waiting for me. I have no idea how she’s managed to get anywhere near the volleyball locker rooms.

I deliberately ignore her, brushing past her.

“Ava, come on, talk to me!” She calls, jogging after me.

“I have nothing to say to you,” I say shortly, walking faster.

“You owe me an explanation,” Paige pants, catching up to me and grabbing my arm. She spins me around to face her. “Why haven’t you answered my texts?” She demands. There’s a hint of hurt in her voice. There’s purple under her eyes.

Fuck her.

“Didn’t even realize you’d texted me,” I say casually.

Her eyes narrow. “That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “Maybe I just don’t think about you as much as you think about me,” I say, rolling my eyes. She looks taken aback. The truth is I’ve thought about her every single day since that night about a week ago. I’ve replayed every moment, every touch, every word of everything she’s ever done or said to me in my head. And then I remember her leaning in to kiss Audrey. The way she cupped her face. The way she grabbed her waist and pulled her in. The way she smiled that heartbreaking smile against her lips before she pulled away.

Paige recovers from her shock quickly, reaching for me again. I step back away from her.

“Ava,” she tries again.

It hurts to hear her say that. That name for me that only she’s ever called me, and it’d only been a couple of months, but this girl had made her way into my head and my heart.

“Don’t call me that,” I tell her coldly.

“What?” She asks, stepping closer again.

“I said don’t call me that. Are you deaf?” I demand. I know I’m being rude. Mean, even. I don’t care. I need her as far away from me as possible.

Hurt flashes across her features.

“Matter of fact, don’t text me at all,” I say, disgust lacing my tone. I force it there.

“Why the fuck are you acting like this? You were all over me a week ago, just begging me to fuck you-” Her voice is raising, but mine can, too.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you piece of shit,” I snap at her.

“You know what, you’re being such a bitch right now-” She accuses, her features twisting with annoyance.

“It’s not my fault you can’t take a fucking hint,” I sneer.

She crowds my space, towering over me, leaning down slightly to snarl against my face.

“And what was the hint I was supposed to take, hm?” Her voice is quiet, but there’s anger in her tone, dripping into me in the way her breath hits my face. She’s so close, her scent so intoxicating, that I just want to give in. “Was the hint that you were stripping for me in my bed? Or that you were moaning my name? Which one was it, Avantika?”

I slap her. Not hard, just enough that she stumbles back. Her hand flies to her cheek, eyes widening in shock.

“I don’t want you,” I say coolly. Liar, liar, liar.

“So leave me the fuck alone.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #fic #wcbb #paige bueckers x oc #✂️ anon #uconn wbb

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w1ldthoughts · 2 months

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Dangerous Delusions

Synopsis: Jack finds out about the notes.

A/n: Almost the end of the series!! Thank you all for reading🩷

Series Masterlist

“Is this all the notes you’ve gotten? And nothing else has happened?” Mike asks her over the phone. She’d contacted him a week before after receiving her third threatening message, all with a bouquet of flowers with the same eerie message.

“Nope, nothing else. They’ve only contacted me at work and I haven’t looked at my Instagram messages since the first time I was threatened.”

He looks over the sheets of paper, running a hand over his face. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell Jack about this?”

Zoey quickly told him no. “I really don’t want him to worry about this if I can take care of it before it becomes a big deal. Hopefully you guys can figure out who is doing this and I can just move on. There’s no point in Jack feeling guilty and carrying more of the weight of the world on his shoulders than usual.”

He understood what she was getting at but still didn’t like keeping this from him. Nevertheless he knew he didn’t want to break Zoey’s trust, especially when her safety was could be at stake. Mike let her know that he’d allocate all necessary resources to figure out who was behind this and get back to her as soon as possible which made her breathe a bit easier.

A few days later, she was all packed and ready to head to Kentucky to spend the week with Jack. There were no new notes, no threatening messages and no flowers so she chalked it up to the person getting bored and moving on with their life. What she didn’t expect was Jack walking into her office just as she was about to leave for the day and head to the airport.

She took in the smell of his cologne as she buried her face is his chest and gave his body a squeeze. A laugh vibrated from his chest as he kissed the top of her head. “Damn, I missed you too. Glad I came to surprise you cause you might have tackled me or something when you got to Louisville, you good?” The smile was wiped off his face a little scanning her features.

Zoey nodded, feeling a little choked up. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel relief since the whole ordeal began and just being in his presence instantly made her feel safe, a feeling that had been really foreign lately. “I’m just really happy to see you.”

“I couldn’t wait, so I think you might need to cancel that flight cause I brought the crew. We can leave whenever you want.” He smirks at her, holding her face in his hands and tenderly kissing her on the lips, getting lost in the moment a bit.

They almost forgot they were still in the office. “I’m ready to go, we just need to grab my stuff out of my car, it’s all in the trunk.”

“Okay, let’s go.”

Opting to take the elevator, the couple make their way down to the parking garage to get into Zoey’s car. The broken glass on the floor is the first thing she sees. Her boyfriend’s grip tightens instantly, stepping in front of her to get a closer look without letting her go so she can feel the way his hand is shaking. “I’m calling Mike.”

She felt numb, like life was happening in front of her but she wasn’t actively participating in it. Jack and Mike were talking at one point, more security came and checked the scene so they could grab her bags while she and Jack were escorted to the car. Zoey remembers sitting in the SUV with Jack and Urban, Jack practically glued to her side. He probably asked her 100 times if she was okay but she doesn’t remember responding. And then the next thing she knew, they were in Jack’s house.

“Okay so what do we do?” Jack asks, walking around in a circle for what seemed like the millionth time. “She obviously can’t go back there, it’s not safe. I mean shit—how do we even move forward?”

Mike puts his phone on the counter and calmly tells him that they’re handling it and that everyone probably needs to get some rest.

Jack furrows his eyebrows at him. “I know your job is to be cool and collected but respectfully, rest is the last thing I need right now. We need to find out who the fuck threw a big ass rock and busted my girlfriend’s window. And that fucking note? Why isn’t anybody moving with some damn urgency? Why isn’t anybody surprised?”

Zoey and Mike exchange looks and Urban swears he’s never seen his best friend more angry. “You know what Mike? You’re right, I’m not about to tell you how to do your job. Let me know if y’all find anything and Urb? I’ll see you later.”

The two men gladly take that as their cue and are out the door less than five minutes later. Jack gets on his phone to set the house alarm and places it back down on the table with a sigh. “Zoey, I’m going to ask you this one time. Is this the first time something like this has happened?”

It’s scary how even his voice is. He’s usually a yeller, talks with his hands and is very expressive so to see him standing there like a statue was deeply concerning.

“No,” she gulped.

“How many times have you been threatened and when did it start?”

She felt like a teenager who had been caught sneaking out by her parents. It was awful. “Six times. First one was two weeks ago.”

“T—two fucking weeks ago,” he lets out a humorless laugh. “And you didn’t think to mention that to me? You didn’t think this was something I should know about? You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.”

“Jack I know you’re mad and I get it. I should’ve said something but I told Mike and he was looking into it already. Thought it could be over and handled before it actually became an issue.”

He closes his eyes, desperately trying to collect himself. “Zoey I am your partner. And I might joke and play around but one thing I do not play about is your safety, do you hear me? You have no fucking idea how terrifying today was and to know that you’ve been feeling like this for weeks? I can’t—I don’t even wanna think about what I would do if something happened to you.”

The tears beginning to swim in his eyes are devastating and she can’t help but reach out to comfort him. “No, you don’t get to make it better right now. You should’ve told me because now I’m running over all the crazy shit that could’ve been said to you in my head and it’s all of my worst nightmares coming true,” he pauses, watching a fat tear roll down her face. “I trust you with everything because you are my person. And the most important thing, something we both know I should’ve been aware of? You shut me out.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I fucked up and I know that,” she chokes out, “you’re my person too, I just—thought I could figure this out on my own and not freak you out.”

“Well congratulations, I’m way past freaked out. And since you like doing things by yourself you can sleep on your own tonight. I really do not want to see you right now.” He snatches his phone and walks right past her without another word. Zoey stands there alone, in the living room, hearing one of the guest room doors slam shut.

“He might actually hate me.”

Urban laughs, taking a bite of his chocolate chip pancakes. “Bro, hate is crazy. That man wouldn’t be able to hate you even if you destroyed the entirety of his Pokémon collection. He’s just scared out of his mind and needs some time to problem solve, he’ll be right back to saying how high when you say jump in no time.”

“I’m serious Urban, I’ve made him mad before but it’s never been like this. He’s never been so upset that he couldn’t stand the thought of sharing a room let alone a bed with me. And you should’ve seen his face, he was so…heartbroken.”

He shakes his head a little, “he did call me crying a little last night. That car shit really fucked him up and—oh, good morning sunshine,” trying to joke with Jack to get him out of his moods was the usual go-to tactic.

“Don’t you have something to do this morning Urb?” The bags under his eyes are obvious so his friend doesn’t push it any further, simply nodding and putting his plate in the dishwasher.

“I um, I made pancakes if you’re hungry?” Zoey asks, trying to get him to look at her. Her attempt was unsuccessful.

Jack grabs a water bottle from the fridge. “I’m not.”

He knows he’s not handling it well but being rational and thinking logically isn’t exactly on his mind at the moment. Maybe that’s why his head feels like it’s going to explode. But he hasn’t slept, so the list of things that are pressing against the front of his brain just keeps growing. And he can’t stop picturing it, the broken window, the shattered glass. The pit in his stomach just grows and grows and he’s never felt fear like this before. Genuine horror, seeping deep in his bones and he doesn’t want to make this about himself, so he’d rather just not speak to her.

What if she waited so long that something actually happened? What then? Would he just get a call on morning from a miami hospital or better yet, find out through TMZ that she’d been injured or worse? They prided themselves on open and honest communication. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much, that he would trust her with anything and she felt like she needed to hide to spare him of the pain, ultimately making the situation much worse. It was a shock to the system. And what do you do when the person you go to for comfort is the one that hurt you the most?

#jack Harlow #jack Harlow imagine #jack Harlow x oc #jack x zoey #jackman thomas harlow

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atom-writings · 4 months

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hetalia axis & allies (+ canada) xmas headcanons

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: uhhh christmas obviously. mention of religion and underwear?? uh... i think that's it

a/n: this is my first christmas as a jewish convert so that's been weird. anyway I just wanted something quick, so its mostly a list of gift ideas (:

America

Alfred is SUCH a huge Christmas fan. I mean, canonically he dresses up as Santa, so he goes all out for the entire month of December. He's been working on a huge holiday home display for decades, and it shows.

He plays Santa at his local mall during the weeks leading up to Christmas; and on the night of, he hands out hot cocoa outside his house. It's fun, but it also means he's a little distracted when it comes to you.

What he would get you: Posters of your favourite movies, super comfy pyjamas, expensive figures of characters you like, candy you like but never get for yourself, model planes or Legos for you two to build together, novelty pens, a stupid cowboy costume so you can match <3, those handmade coupons because he 1. Loves you and 2. Forgot about Christmas until yesterday

What he would want: Any video games, Funko Pops, vinyls of music he likes, those big packs of shirts (he is constantly running out of shirts because he rips or irreparably stains them,) Marvel comics, anything with an eagle on it, those mini wacky waving inflatable tube men things, bulk pens and pencils because he also breaks those constantly-

England

Arthur is not big into Christmas and never has been. He'll celebrate with you, but he's not going out when it comes to any aspect. If anything, he finds it a little exhausting getting gifts for everyone

But, he does adore walking around and looking at all the lights. He'll do that a couple times with you in December.

What he would get you: Any novel you’ve mentioned even once, tickets to a concert both of you will enjoy, classy jackets that fit you perfectly, cute keychains, fancy art supplies, fragrances that remind him of you, bags/purses that fit your style, CDs

What he would want: Sewing supplies (thread, new needles, new fabric scissors,) framed photos of the two of you, Doctor Who merch, foreign tea, a book on how to take care of your eyebrows properly (he will not learn otherwise,) slippers, those sarcastic magnets that all millennial women have at least one of, any ridiculous piece of merch with the union jack on it

France

Francis has very mixed feelings about Christmas. On one hand, he hates how consumerist it has become, but on the other hand, nothing makes him happier than seeing the joy the season brings to others.

Plus, he does enjoy giving and receiving presents. The music too? Wonderful. As long as you don't get too stressed out, the holiday should be perfect.

What he would get you: Tons of clothes; stuff that's already your style, and completely new stuff, room decorations (NOT posters,) a reservation at a nice restaurant, bracelets that he made for you, makeup (if you like that kind of thing,) candles that smell like his cologne, CHEESE

What he would want: Fancy fabric, any clothes (he doesn’t care what they are as long as you think they’d look good on him…) paintings or photography, literally ANYTHING creative you’ve made, hair ties (he loses at least 5 a day,) bird stuffed animals, (Basically anything! Francis is not picky)

China

Christmas is a new occurrence for Yao, and he isn't the biggest fan. He'll buy you stuff for it, but he would do that normally. The lights and the music aren't anything special to him either. Basically, he won't celebrate unless you want to.

What he would get you: Elaborate, very expensive jewellery, huge stuff like a car, Chinese cookbooks, traditional clothes that he made specifically to represent you (: luxury handbags (that he got at SUCH a good discount,) tons of weird off-brand merch of your favourite show, probably a nice meal too!

What he would want: Yao is hard to buy for. Soft robes, stuff to help with back pain, face masks, Hello Kitty keychains… reading glasses maybe?

Russia

Although he isn't as excited about Christmas as he is about the New Year, he still loves the holiday. It's a nice excuse to see family, and everyone is just so happy around the season! He's especially excited to celebrate it with you.

He's not the best at giving gifts, but he could be worse. Regardless of whether you like all of it, you're gonna get a lot of stuff.

(Also, he plays Santa for the kids sometimes. It's so cute-)

What he would get you: Random knick-knacks he probably found at a local market, knitted hats and gloves in your favourite colour, a scarf to match his, tickets to go somewhere warm on vacation, stuffed animals! books that made him think of you (usually philosophical or religious novels,) pretty rocks (:

What he would want: SUNFLOWERS! (This works for every occasion,) baked goods, clothes that aren’t 250 years old- new doilies and paintings to decorate his house, pictures of yourself, friendship bracelets, stuffed animals, if you can make a scarf somehow, DO THAT

North Italy

Feliciano cares about Christmas in a more religious way, but he's never mad about getting presents. So, he'll probably spend most of the day in church, but he still did put a lot of effort into getting you stuff you love.

What he would get you: Pajamas & bath robes, shitty romance novels that he wants you to read, weird hand-made knick-knacks, makeup, strange mugs that he found at a thrift store, a painting of you (: probably a pair of his boxers-

What he would want: New paint brushes, novelty pasta shapes, fancy jackets, any art that you’ve made (regardless of quality,) cat stuffed animals, The Ability To Get A Grip, skincare products, shiny garbage (For art purposes, duh,) those handmade coupon things

Germany

Ludwig does not enjoy Christmas particularly. He's terrible at giving gifts but he wants to so desperately that he spends all of winter stressing out about it. Yes, he's excited to see your reaction to his gifts, but at what cost?!

Although he does still like all the decorations at least. Maybe he just likes re-decorating though.

What he would get you: Puzzles you can complete together, soft sweaters, practical stuff you need (like book bags, lens cloths, that kind of thing,) stationery, reservations for private tours at museums you would find interesting, a subscription to whatever silly service you want (:

What he would want: Books about city planning, nerdy card games, a fun lanyard, a new coffee machine, those aroma-therapy diffuser things, household tools like vacuums and stuff (Get him an air fryer. He’s going to be fascinated.) stress balls, pens (He is boring.)

Japan

Kiku really has no particular feelings towards Christmas. If you weren't there, the most he would do was put up a mini tree. He's stressed out by both giving and receiving presents and is only willing to do that kind of thing if you want to.

What he would get you: Electronics, merch of your favourite Sanrio character, books that he thinks you’ll like, stickers, a bento box, comfy sweatpants, cute hairpins, plushies from your favourite media, a bunch of pillows, some obscure Japanese snacks too!

What he would want: Miku figures, posters, video games, manga, general nerdy stuff, history novels (he likes to correct them,) blackout curtains, cute face masks, a Polaroid camera, a guide on socialization (Seriously.) a knit scarf, if you can knit (:

South Italy

Romano desperately wants to care about Jesus more than getting gifts. He's a devout catholic, g*ddamnit! But... he does just really love eating baked goods and getting gifts more than anything. Getting together with family, the music, the lights, he just ADORES the holiday.

What he would get you: Blankets and pillows, your favourite snacks, clothes that are a little more revealing- cruise tickets (if going on wouldn’t be hell for you,) a journal where he wrote down all of the things he loves about you (completely honestly,) religious items, fancy perfumes

What he would want: Paintings from local artists, post-its (so he can finally remember SOMETHING,) anything with the Italian flag on it, stupid bumper stickers, pictures of the other nations that you’ve written insults on, fancy patterned scarves and fabric

Prussia

Like Alfred, Gilbert loves Christmas in a very childish way. He embraces that side of himself during the holidays and he'd love it if you joined him in that. He constantly insists on going out to see the lights, and he just can't get enough of Christmas movies. Even the bad ones (He's a Hallmark girlie.)

What he would get you: A vintage music box, hair dye, DVDs of your favourite movies (just to have,) stationery, random snacks he picked up from a gas station an hour ago, weirdly sentimental jewellery? Vintage journals, pictures of himself

What he would want: Coupons (???) goofy temporary tattoos, metal CDs, tea (he’s weirdly embarrassed about liking tea and doesn’t buy it for himself?) vintage maps that he can frame and hang up, probably like, WD40? DC comics, novelty trophies, Pokemon cards, video games

Canada

More than anything, Matthew loves winter. So, therefore, he loves Christmas! Seeing you smile when you open your gifts, he looks forward to it all season. It seems like the only time of year when everyone else is either as miserable or as happy as he is, so it's his favourite holiday.

Cuddling up in front of the fireplace with hot cocoa, watching some old Christmas movie, its all he wants.

What he would get you: Comfy hoodies, comfy slippers too, hot cocoa packs, big stuff like a new PC or fridge or smth- decorations for your room, face masks, fidget toys, novelty Canadian keychains, figures of your favourite characters, festive sweets (like candy-canes and stuff.)

What he would want: Anything with a maple leaf (yes, he wants MORE of that,) boring stuff like socks, wood-working tools or like a new snow shovel, fairy lights, DVDs (because he still uses them? Why.) a new phone case, gift cards (HES BORING,) pre-packaged crafts, lotion and cologne that smells like pine

merry christmas if you celebrate! this'll probably be the last full thing I post until 2024, so thanks to all you readers for sticking around this year (: you have no idea how much it means to me. i love yall. and to all a good night or whatever santa said

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ppnuggie · 2 years

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　　　　　　XENOMORPH KING x gn human reader

　　　　『　xenomorph king ,, gender neutral human reader 』

　　-> sort of the beginning of having a king xeno s/o ?? pt 1

　　— fluff ,, sfw ,, gore warning in a way

　　— some hcs of a xeno king ,, bc ive started watching the alien series ,, and even if ive only seen the queen xeno ,, kinda interested in what the king xeno is like 👁 so heres some hcs of that ,, ig this is a oc sort of xeno ?? named him king

　　— this is a pt 1 ,, since this is more of how you met king n stuff ,, that sort of stuffies and all :) i have been watching the predator movies so hopefully ill be able to start writing for them too !!

• it was kinda confusing how it happened ,, as you were sent to a section of a certain planet with about 4 other people to research about these beings

• thankfully ,, during the process ,, your team hadn't received any injuries from the beings ,, besides getting hit in the head with a flick of their tail when theyd get too close

• even then ,, it wasnt that bad of an injury ,, and having your ship away from the hive kept the xenomorphs from finding out about your existences

• though ,, during your time spent on the foreign planet ,, the queen of the hive had died ,, leaving the rest of the hive to go into panic

• with no queen ,, reproduction would be difficult for the hive ,, as well as no order to be given out ,, and nothing to do ,, which had caused some xenomorphs to act out of line and attack one another

• of course ,, those who acted out were quickly taken care of by the upper ranking xenomorphs ,, who were not only in charge of guarding hosts when face huggers had been attached ,, but also guarding the eggs the queen would lay

• before the queen had died ,, she did lay a large clutch of eggs ,, and so the upper ranking xenos were left to hope that maybe a queen would hatch from one of them

• though a few of the eggs were quick to hatch ,, a small handful had taken quite some time ,, meaning they would be high ranking

• one day ,, a drone had snuck past the high rankings and took off with one of the eggs that had taken quite some time to hatch

• due to this ,, the drone would be hunted down by some of high rankings ,, though the drone bad found a host for the egg before it was killed off

• and the egg had hatched ,, the face hugger had implanted the chest burster ,, and then thats where you had stumbled across it

• the face hugger was long gone ,, but the host had been limping around ,, before it laid down and soon the chest burster came out

• you had watched with fascination ,, the chest burster coming out ,, its body bigger than the average chest burster

• though you werent the only one who spotted it ,, a ‘predator’ they had called them ,, had their eyes set upon the baby ,, ready to quickly exterminate it

• they hadnt noticed you ,, though ,, yet you had noticed them ,, as they had their guard down and camouflage off

• with quick thinking and planning ,, you scooped the chest burster up into your arms and quickly ran off ,, heading towards the hive to return it ,, after all this chest burster could end up being a new queen

• even if the entire xenomorph race was made to destroy and exterminate anything in their path ,, it didnt feel right to you to leave the chest burster alone and in danger

• maybe it was your crazy thoughts finally getting to you ,, maybe you had been away from earth and actual civilization for far too long ,, but you just couldnt let the hive dive further into chaos and helplessness

• after all ,, the queen did hold the whole hive together ,, and without the queen the hive had nothing to do but turn into chaos

• you did successfully get the chest burster to the hive ,, without being caught by the predator or any lurking xenomorphs thankfully ,, and let the chest burster down to the entrance

• it turned its head to the side ,, before making its way towards the hive ,, where you could easily hear a shriek from one of the higher rankings

• a small smile had made its way to your face ,, and soon you left to go back to the ship and to the rest of your crew

• a year later ,, you were out gathering meat from one of the local creatures that had been deamed safe enough for consumption

• whilst out ,, the predator who you had seen before was there ,, unbeknownst to you ,, with a couple of his clan mates

• the word must have spread that humans were on the planet ,, and that one in particular had taken a chest burster with them

• as the yautja were preparing to rid of your existence ,, a lurking xenomorph that had hidden from their radar had popped from its hiding spot

• its crest was big ,, and so was its size ,, mass equivalent to a queen yet a bit smaller ,, however it was too big to be a guardian / knight

• hearing its shriek made you look up ,, seeing the large creature and a few surprised yautja with their camouflage down

• your immediate reaction was to run and hide ,, making your way under some leaves that had grown from the ground ,, large enough to hide your body

• you could hear the fighting from outside ,, the predators talking amongst each other as they would fight against the xenomorph ,, and the louds cries and shrieks from the xenomorph itself

• then it all came to a stop ,, the fighting and the cries from the xenomorph ,, only left with eerie silence

• you put your hands on your mouth ,, afraid of what may happen if whatever was left outside would hear your silent cries and whimpers

• you didnt dare peak out from the brush ,, worried that you may be killed next

• though a light sniffing sound could be heard ,, long claws moving aside the leaves ,, from behind the bushery was what looked to be a queen xenomorph ,, yet its crest was bigger than a queen and its size was smaller

• teeth sharp and snarling ,, saliva dripping to the ground as it sniffed at your form ,, shivering and afraid of the being in front of you

• it stepped back ,, sitting on its hind legs as it waited for you to come out from your hiding space ,, though you were unsure as what to do ,, with the being in front of you and not showing any sign of hostility

• slowly ,, you made your way out from the bush ,, the ground before you mushy from the rain the previous day ,, and to your side laid the predators that had been hunting you

• with the angle you were at ,, you could better identify the xenomorph sitring in front of you ,, as it wasnt a queen but instead a king ,, a rare occurrence for xenomorphs

• this had been a huge change for your studies ,, basking in the beauty of the xenomorph ,, yet he moved from his position ,, standing on his hind legs and front arms moving to grasp you up

• it reminded you of the way you had held the chest burster you found a year ago ,, how similar it looked to the king that had its hold around you

• careful of his long claws ,, he made his way out of the shrubbery and towards where your ship had resided ,, the king set you down upon arrival ,, chest bonking lightly against you as a way to say ‘go’

• confused at your discovery ,, you slowly backed up towards the ship ,, watching as the king xenomorph in front of you had started to move away ,, showing no signs of aggression

• once he was quite far away ,, you made your way into the ship quickly ,, ready to brag about your discoveries to your teammates

#xenomorph x reader #xenomorph #xenomorph king #x reader #x human reader #alien x reader #alien x human #xenomorph x human #alien series #alien xenomorph #xenomorph oc #🛸.alien #🛸.xenomorph #🛸.xenomorph king

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yuhhxhxx · 8 months

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An immortal's sole blessing || Blade x male reader NSFW

Warnings : Mentions of blood, death, NSFW (s3xual themes)

Established relationship, soft!Dom Blade, male reader, handjob (reader receiving), soft and fluffy stuff by the end of the fic <3

This is a fairly long fic that contains (some sort of) a prologue

A/N : Not gonna lie, I feel like I could've done better, but my imagination this time was just not enough, I suppose. Either way, I hope this fic is fine regardless.

____________________________________

Blood. Death. Vengeance. Immortality. Curses. Insanity.

Those are the words that describe Blade the best.

With each step that he has made, with each breath and word that he has muttered, death followed shortly afterward.

There was a time when he wasn't like this- a time when he was Yingxing. But those are remnants of the past. Yingxing is long gone, he is but a forgotten memory that resides deep under the name "Blade".

He is quite the man of mistery and mischief, as well as sheer insanity- one that is appealing to the untrained eye. Perhaps some people have even fallen for him- and you are one of them.

Not even Blade himself has ever thought of having a lover- that word was foreign to him.

Yet here he is. He has... a lover. It took him a while to realize what the matter is, but with the dearest help of his acquaintance, Kafka, he finally got familiar with the concept.

He struggles to understand you. He ceases to understand why you cling onto him whenever given the chance, why you always want to follow him around despite his missions- it always ends up in him telling you why it's dangerous for you to tag along with him. He doesn't understand you, yet his cold heart slowly got melted by you over the time.

Eventually, he got some time free on his hands that he decided to spend with you. He barely gets to spend time with you at all and he knows full-well that it makes you sad- he doesn't want to make you feel that way. Despite himself, Blade is actually quite gentle with you- at least, in his definition, meaning that he doesn't want to make you suffer- a trait that he learned from Kafka.

And now, you two were enjoying each other's company. You were holding his hand rather than he was holding yours as you were walking down the streets. Your lover has gotten exhausted after today's matters- he had to fight a lot of abominations and monsters along with even more people... a lot of stuff.

"Blade, are you okay?"

"Hmmph." He does his classic deep groan. "I'm good. I've told you, stop worrying."

"Blade, you work way too much sometimes. You need to rest from time to time." The two of you keep walking lazily down the quiet pathway.

"I've been doing this for countless years. Do not worry." Squeezing your hand, he keeps walking with you, his pace being slower than usual.

Your relationship with Blade is one that many would call strange, but it's pleasant to you. After all, you love him.

Your date with Blade was like a bliss. He was very gentle and calm, he was more romantic than usual, probably because he barely got to spend time with you at all. It lasted a few hours- you two went to different places and made sure to take your time- it was romantic, a word that you wouldn't expect to use when speaking of Blade. It was arguably the best time you two have ever had...

...well, not reallly.

Nothing is really better than having Blade caress your whole body and touch every inch and curve of your figure. The way his hands handle his blade so masterfully, the same way they can make you whimper and squirm as they stroke your genital unbelievably well.

"Blade..." His name is ingrained into your tongue. He loves hearing you whimper and moan his name softly while he pleases you. Blade got you hard in the very first few seconds- he is better than you had initially thought.

And your orgasm followed shortly afterward. It brushed over you like a tide during winter. You're not even sure how it all started- it was probably when you started kissing him, or maybe when you purposely touched him rather low down his body in order to test the waters- what you didn't know is that a tsunami was on the way.

"Good boy." Praising... Blade was praising you- something you wouldn't usually expect from him. His smirk showed how proud he was of his work of art- your abdomen painted in rivers of your own sperm. Every word, every touch and every breath of his had you weak. Your breathing was now heavy, you were so turned on, and if Blade wouldn't be so bratty in bed, you'd practically beg him to fuck you.

"What's wrong?" Of course, Blade would notice how needy you are, and thankfully for you, he is one that enjoys getting things done without tardiness.

"Blade..."

The way you practically whimper his name, the way his beloved man begs for him, it drives him even more insane than he already is. We all know that Blade is prone to obsessing, and you are no different. He can feel his pants tightening, it's begging to come out.

The only rational thing he can do now is to groan when hearing you call out his name.

In a few seconds, you're naked. You don't know how, but it was surely Blade's handiwork. After all, he might be injured and bandaged a lot but he never ceases to be agile. It takes precision, speed and accuracy to be a stellaron hunter- of course he could undress you in a matter of a few seconds.

The same way he undressed himself. His naturally beautiful and appealing body showed itself before your hot figure. Your blood was boiling, but not because of wrath. He was so toned and... hot. His toned chest and abs along with the bandages were just enough to turn you on, not to mention his size. His cock is beautiful, too, and big- similar to himself. It had always driven you insane, especially with how well he does his work.

And as you were losing yourself in your thoughts...

"Nghh... Y/N, wake up. You're taking too long." Blade was already at your entrance- you were underneath him, his body standing straight at the edge of the bed, in front of you. He was hard, his dick showing itself in all its grandeur. Your eyes were wandering everywhere, as well as his.

"S-sorry... I got carried away."

Blade sighs deeply and pushes his hips forward, slowly pushing into your asshole. The moment he does so, you let out a soft whimper. His handsome features carefully watch over yours as he drives himself deeper inside you.

You don't even remember what happened afterwards. It all felt like a fever dream. All you can feel now is your soreness and the pain in your lower back due to the aftershocks that quite excruciating. All you remember was Blade groaning and torturing your cock while he was making love to you.

Blade, on the other side...

He was now in the bathroom cleaning himself up while you were laying on the bed, still not quite believing what just happened... this round was rougher than usual.

"Y/N..." He's already out of the bathroom. You'd be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him when he was naked, with only a tower on. This man is majestic.

"Y-yeah?"

"You're hesitant all the time. Why is that?" He sits next to you on the bed, not caring that his body is still wet.

"U-uh... I'm sorry."

"Hmmph" He groans once again. "Don't apologize, Y/N."

He's so handsome you can't help but stare at him in awe. He notices this and chuckles lowly, kissing your forehead. You're his sweet boyfriend and he loves you, after all. He doesn't really want you to feel uncomfortable around him.

"Y/N, you don't need to worry about anything when you're around me. After all, I enjoy your company. In fact... I could even say that you're my sole blessing."

#fanfic #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr blade #blade x reader #fluff

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chibitantei · 1 year

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@tres-fidelis / Rin sends:

A passing year yielded more astute observations of one tiny detective, and more opportunities of finalizing a birthday present. Last year Rin happened to hit the jackpot in terms of gift-giving, as Naoto seemed appreciative of the older teen's handiwork. Perhaps she did keep those trinkets somewhere in her own home. She wouldn't ask, though curiosity remained.

This time, Rin began preparations a day earlier than the previous year in case any errors or accidents halted her tinkering. The day soon arrived with Rin nearly tired-eyed (once again) but satisfied with her gift. School let out, and no sooner did the detective hastily leave the grounds catching Rin's attention. "Heh, gettin' a headstart 'fore anyone tries stoppin' ya fer presents 'n shit." And yet there stood Rin, doing exactly just as previously stated. "Well, 'fore ya leave fer wha'eva import'nt 'business'-" Add extra air quotes. "-ya gotta be at, come by my place. I got sumthin' fer th' birthday gal 'ere."

A leisurely pace wound up with the duo arriving at Inaba's one and only mechanic shop. Rin opened up the garage, in turn revealing Naoto's special birthday present. Standing aside from a large foreign-built car was the beginnings of a scooter. Bare-bone work, at best. Mechanical wirings, plated metal sheeting, and a small engine all made up Rin's current personal project. A little embarrassing to show it now, but the brunette rather have Naoto see its ongoing progress instead of receiving nothing from her Senpai. "I uh....only started it las' week. Couldn't find th' parts I wanted in time, but uh..."

Yeah, this is all she's got.

"It'll be yers in no time. Promise ya dat. 'N I'll let ya pick out th' colors 'n accents 'n stuff too."

Naoto's Birthday | Closed

Today was a day Naoto marked on her calendar as dreadful, for a myriad of reasons. Usually, she was motivated to exit classes, exchange her indoor shoes for outdoor ones—no longer did she wear those platforms deemed as a Frankenstein abomination, as Ebihara and Kujikawa criticized her for—and keep a brisk pace as she either headed for the apartment or one of the few places to kill time in Inaba.

That very same plan had been in the works for today as well; the only modifications would be an increased pace and the fires of motivation to escape burning even brighter than before.

Before she could make it twenty paces beyond the gate, she was stopped by one foul, loud mouthed and familiar individual. This year, no eccentric scrap metal miniatures were in sight. No, this gift was to be found only at Inaba's sole mechanic shop. Luckily for Fujimori, she was in Naoto’s circle of acquaintances that were not pushed away the moment she spotted them striding towards her.

She nodded, letting Fujimori dictate the pace. A leisurely tempo, not what she had expected, but she noticed when Tatsumi slowed down his steps so she wouldn’t be sweating bullets just to match. The same courtesy must have been extended here. They arrived at the garage in good time, not too late, plenty of time for her to attend to other business matters after this.

First thing she noticed when the door was opened: the car. Not hers, obviously. The skeleton of a scooter, then, was the object to focus on. Unfinished, clearly, but upon closer examination, the puzzle was complete.

This was her present, although not ready now, possibly not even later in the year. A viewing wouldn’t have been considered a gift by others’ standards, but Naoto had no strong feelings of disappointment. As a hobbyist inventor and maintainer of her scooter, she understood the time it took to craft such a thing, especially if it was built from scratch.

This scooter would hold out until she felt ready to take those motorcycles from the garage out for a drive. ...A motorcycle license was needed for that. Just to cover her bases, obtaining a car license was another priority...

“Take your time. Machines require plenty of elbow grease and persistence. My current one has seen some wear and tear, but it’ll hold out until you finish.” Unlike the others, she didn’t ram her scooter into Shadows—logistics on how they used them in the TV world aside—but it gained those scratches from a younger her learning to handle such a machine.

She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your thoughtful... future gift. And for allowing me to see the work in progress stage.”

#Ask Status: Answered #tresfidelis #tresfidelis ; rin #v: Seeker of Truth #Event: Naoto's Birthday #long post #(tatsuya would be so proud)#(wipes away a tear)

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hongism · 3 years

Text

the most brilliant darkness - j.wy (ft. c.san)

↣ pairing: wooyoung x fem reader/san x fem reader ↣ genre: greek mythology au, fantasy, angst, fluff, modern day greek gods au, s2l, slightly suggestive but nothing Lewd ↣ wc: 26.4k ↣ warnings: language, talks of losing hope/dreams, talks of mental health, mentions of death/discussions of a car accident and nonspecific mentions of a suicide! please please exercise caution when reading this fic as it is rather heavy! ↣ summary: life, to you, moves in waves, with crests and dips and all sorts of storms meant to trouble the waters throughout. you simply didn’t expect to crash into them so hard.

for @sleepylixie and @delicatewerewolfsoul’s hamartia collab!

four minutes past five o’clock, you step into a new life. the floor under your feet is oddly cold when you slip your shoes off beside the door. carpet slides between your toes like a weak attempt to warm your foul mood, but the stiffness in the air keeps you from finding any comfort in the feeling. no one greets you right away, which is what you expect, but still, there’s a sting that dulls and aches in your chest for too long. you suppose there could be some poetic semblance to going from a lonely, empty apartment in a busy city to a small town where the population is mostly middle-aged and older people. and at twenty-four, you suppose there could also be an argument that maybe you’re creeping up to join them.

“ah, y/n! i just saw yunho’s text! does he need help bringing your stuff up?” the voice comes from your right, and the woman who rushes out of a cramped kitchen greets you with open arms and a tight hug. she fits the bill for typical citizens of this town — hair greying enough to be noticeable and a dirtied little apron tied around her waist. hard-working people, that is, who work until they’re physically incapable of doing so even when they get paid dirt for it. such a concept seems odd to you who has friends who work for the money and to retire early.

“there are only a few boxes, you don’t need to strain yourself, aunty.”

“please, you’re the only one who shouldn’t be straining yourself. you had to pack everything yourself anyways! let us get the rest for you, okay?” the woman flashes a crooked smile as she pulls out of the hug, and that smile persists even as she steps around you to get to the open door. the argument is on your lips but she’s gone before you can voice your complaints, leaving you to stand in the middle of your new and foreign home.

it’s a nice enough place, you suppose, and a serious upgrade from your ratty apartment that you had to leave because you couldn’t afford to rent it any longer. although part of that is because of the job you were forced to leave, as well as the boyfriend (now ex) who left you with the cost of having to pay twice as much when he moved out. it wasn’t entirely his fault — you weren’t about to tell him to refuse the overseas job offer he received, especially not when it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for someone fresh out of university. it was more unexpected than anything else: five years of dating sent down the drain by a simple job offer on his side of things and a rejection letter from the only graduate school you truly wanted to attend on yours.

if you had to describe the feeling of your life at this very moment, you’d say it’s very much like the feeling of seeing your parents’ nicest vase fall off a table and knowing it’s going to break, then not being able to pick up the pieces fast enough. between the rejection, the breakup, leaving your job, not being able to afford your apartment, and now having to move to the only family who would take you — you’d say it’s safe to say your life is falling apart in every place imaginable. your aunt and cousin are making it manageable, especially yunho who was the one who dropped whatever he was doing to come help you move out and drove you down to this town in the first place, but the change is still in freefall and you don’t quite know what waits at the bottom yet.

“here, i’ll show you to your room!” yunho says, stepping through the front door with a large box of your belongings in his arms. there’s a clump of black hair sticking to his forehead, accentuated by the red highlights that streak through it, and he does his best to flick it out of the way with a huff of air. you trail behind him as he leads the way through the modestly sized house.

you and yunho frankly don’t know each other all that well. you are cousins, yes, but yunho was adopted by your aunt around the age of thirteen, and your family had already moved to a different city when that happened. the times you met up for family functions were few and far between, but even with the tragedies yunho has suffered in his own life, he’s always remained bright and peppy to a fault. he never seems to carry what happened to his own parents with him, and the life in his eyes never leaves either. as your aunt said on the phone when she first heard about your situation, perhaps this will be a good chance for the two of you to get closer as family. you won’t have much of a choice thanks to your severe lack of friends in this area.

“aunty is going to be busy tonight with work, so i thought we could go out and get some dinner in town? maybe after we finish unpacking some things?” yunho’s offer comes over his shoulder, called back to you as you trail behind his tall form with your hands folded in front of you.

“yeah, that sounds nice,” you mutter back. in all honesty, you’re too focused on taking in your surroundings than you are listening to what he’s saying — the bedroom is simple in a way that feels lonely. the drab neutral paint on the wall, the dull carpet that matches the comforter draped over the foot of the bed. it almost looks like a bedroom meant for yunho with the dark blues and decorations that sort of mimic a college dorm, but you’re sure your aunt didn’t expect to have anyone move in like this, so you can’t blame her for the tacky decorations. at this point, you’re simply grateful she extended the offer because moving out of the country to be with your dad felt too much like your life was out of your control.

“i can introduce you to some of my friends too if you’d like? they’re all from around here or live here too.”

you want to ask if they’re in similar positions, ones where their lives are spiraling and collapsing in on themselves, but that question is far too heavy for yunho’s brilliant grin as he sets a box down.

“yes, please.”

“please, you don’t need to be so formal! we’re family after all, yeah?” yunho grins wide enough to nearly split his cheeks with the gesture, then reaches a large hand out to land on top of your head. the motion that would usually make you spit and hiss like an offended cat instead makes you feel a little pang in your chest. yunho ruffles your hair, takes a step to the right, then moves around you to continue moving boxes into the house.

it doesn’t take long to move the boxes; however, the process of unpacking all those boxes is a nightmare in and of itself. your aunt disappears to go off to work an hour into the hellscape that is your new room, and you continue to work on moving clothes and smaller belongings with yunho at your side for another hour and a half before finally taking a break to breathe.

in those ninety minutes, you learn that yunho is chatty, and there’s no shortage of words for him to say or things to talk about with him. you don’t mind the idle chatter, and most of it is yunho telling you stories of the town and his friends, so listening isn’t a difficult task for you. he already knows all about what you’ve gone through recently through the phone calls and conversations on the ride here.

you learn that seonghwa is the oldest of his group of friends and is currently in nursing school despite being a softie who refuses to kill flies in case it might hurt them.

hongjoong is a prestigious art school graduate who spends most of his time doing freelance work for big-name buyers overseas but shares an apartment with seonghwa because the latter can’t afford his own place with school loans at the moment.

mingi and yunho met in high school and have been best friends ever since, glued to each other’s sides, and since graduating, mingi has lived here with his family. he still doesn’t know exactly what he wants to do with his life, but according to yunho, that’s something that he’s always struggled with.

another boy, san, also lives with them, although yunho neglected to mention why that is exactly. all you learn of him is that he’s quiet by nature, and not the most talkative, so you shouldn’t be offended or anything if he’s quiet around you at first. he’ll open up over time.

jongho and yeosang are the ones who are in town the least in terms of frequency. yeosang works as a model, so he only comes into town when there isn’t work lined up for him. as for jongho, the man is apparently the youngest of the friend group, so he gets teased endlessly for that despite being the one who could probably beat them all up. you don’t learn exactly what he does or what his story is, but yunho makes a few under-the-cuff comments about it being related to yeosang somehow, so you can only assume that he works with the model in some way.

you run through that list of facts over and over again in your head as you climb back into yunho’s truck to head to dinner. he promised it would be something low-key and chill, that you wouldn’t have to worry about everyone being there right away — only mingi, hongjoong, and san will be there this time because yeosang and jongho are out of town, then seonghwa has a late clinical — but meeting new people has never been your forte.

a large part of you worries that all your recent traumas will be glaringly evident on your face. there will most likely be an inevitable question of “so what brings you to this town”, and you aren’t positive you can answer such a question without bursting into tears and reliving the hell that your life has been in the past few weeks.

yunho drums his fingers against the side of the steering wheel in time with the music on the radio, and you watch the motion with little interest.

“when did you move back here? after college, i mean,” you ask out of the blue, not bothering to explain where the question comes from.

“after college. hm, like a month or so?”

“oh.”

“uncle got sick.”

“oh,” you repeat, though this time it comes out as quiet as a whisper and there’s a hint of hesitance to your tone. he can only be talking of your aunt’s husband, the one she married when you were eighteen and yunho was seventeen. no one in the family bothered to mention that he ever got ill or anything like that, not even your aunt when she first talked of you coming down to live with her.

“it’s okay.” despite the reassurance, yunho’s knuckles bleed white as he clenches the steering wheel. “we didn’t tell anyone about it.”

“i didn’t know. i’m sorry.”

“he didn’t die,” yunho reiterates. “he had to leave. he’s at a facility somewhere up north. not sure where; mom didn’t tell me. she took him away, and that was the end of it.”

in a way, you think that’s almost worse, and that’s an odd thing to think about. being alive is worse than being dead? odd.

“oh, hongjoong-hyung is already here.” yunho shifts the conversation almost conveniently (but you weren’t going to press for more information about your uncle anyway) as he pulls the truck into a narrow parking lot. you follow his gaze out the windshield only to see a short-statured man with a head of fiery orange hair and an obnoxious floral beanie perched atop that neon head of hair. you’re almost annoyed by the mere sight of the man before you remember that he’s a freelance artist who apparently makes more than six figures a year, so maybe getting on his good side would be good for you. is he too young to be a sugar daddy? are you too old for one? maybe you ought to research the inner workings of the sugar daddy-sugar baby industry more in-depth sometime.

yunho pulls into the nearest empty parking spot, not bothering to straighten out or even check to see whether he’s in the lines or not. you follow suit as quickly as you can when he pulls himself out of the truck, and the little fumble you do with the seatbelt that results in the metal clanging hard against your knuckles definitely doesn’t hurt like a bitch or make you clench your teeth as you climb out of the car. the obnoxious little redhead comes closer when yunho waves him over, and you’re left to take in the fairly frayed and stained light wash jeans and rainbow pastel sweater clinging to his torso. despite looking put together and well-off, there’s a certain sense about him that strikes you as entirely… custom, so to speak. like someone took a cookie cutter to the man and he bent it out of order into a pattern he preferred before letting it shape him.

“hi hyung, this is my cousin, y/n. y/n, this is hongjoong.”

“the art kid,” you utter without thinking, meaning to keep that mental note strictly mental, but it slips out anyway as hongjoong extends a hand in your direction. his hand twitches and hesitates in midair, but his lips curl upwards into a cat-like grin that fully shows how amused he is.

“at your service,” he replies, maintaining that same curled smile.

“should i use an honorific with you too?”

“no, that’s just something yunho does. no need for you to do it as well.”

“well, it’s nice to meet you then, hongjoong.”

“mingi and san already went inside to grab a table.” hongjoong points over his shoulder with his thumb, motioning towards the door to whatever restaurant it is you’ve landed at. yunho lingers by your side as you walk closer to the building as though offering some semblance of comfort and reassurance for you to rely on, and it helps. a bit. not much, but it’s the thought that counts more than anything else.

the inside of the restaurant is about as busy as you expected, which is not at all. the occupants themselves are much younger than you imagined, however, and most of them look only old enough to be in high school, if not middle school. it makes the two you are looking for stand out that much more. from what yunho told you, mingi is nearly as tall as he is, and that means he’s going to loom over you at least a little bit. his head is quite visible over the lip of the booth he’s sitting in, platinum hair reflecting the yellow lights above his head. you can’t see the other man with him quite yet, but he comes into view when hongjoong steps around the booth to sit beside him. he’s charming enough, you suppose. broad shoulders accentuated by a slim fit tank top that goes all the way up to his neck, muscled arms out and on display, and his hair is a simple black that contrasts off mingi’s blinding hair color. there’s not much to him — at least not much that would make him stand out in a crowd beyond his body proportions. something about the sharpness of his features intimidates you, how his eyes narrowed enough to be glaring in your direction as he takes you in and his jawline is just as intense, as though trying to mimic the same look his eyes have. you drop your gaze just as quickly as it lands on him, not keen on making any sort of eye contact.

yunho slips into the booth beside mingi then proceeds to shove the other man so far up against the wall that the poor guy whines in protest as it happens. it works in your favor though and lets you sit comfortably beside your cousin as you stare down new people in a new place and town that’s almost entirely foreign to you.

“san, mingi, meet my cousin. y/n, this is san and mingi.”

“nice to meet you both,” you say under your breath, bowing your head enough to be respectful without being obvious.

“welcome to our little band of chaos,” mingi greets. his eyes smile when his lips do, and it’s an infectious enough grin to make you smile a little yourself.

“hello y/n.” san’s lips stretch in a similar manner. dimples poke just beyond the corners of his mouth, deep little caverns that make his cheeks seem to glow under the lights. “hope you enjoy it here.”

« ♡ »

the first several weeks of your stay with your aunt and yunho are spent doing a lot of the same things. some days you’ll go out for dinner or to an arcade with yunho and his friends, but you don’t do it much. you don’t really have anything better to do; evenings alone are spent cooking for your aunt or in bed watching whatever you can find on the television. you meet seonghwa on the day marking your fifth week here. he’s pretty enough to be a model, eyes soft and happy when they looked at you, and you felt a strong sense of nurturing care from him just in a short interaction. it’s no wonder he’s striving to be a nurse. you don’t see him nearly as often because of his heavy schedule, but when he does come out with you guys, he always lingers near the edges of the group or the room and watches from there. sometimes hongjoong goes over to stand with him. you asked him — seonghwa, that is — why he doesn’t engage with the group as much, but the only response you got out of him was a gentle shake of his head that made a few of his long bangs fall into his eyes. you figured it was enough of a clue to not bother the subject further.

hongjoong sometimes misses your weekly outings (although occasionally when you’re feeling bolder you’ll go along with yunho two or three times per week). he gave you his number after that dinner when you met, so you sent him a text the first time he didn’t show up to a dinner that you attended. what you got in response was three days straight of pure radio silence only to be awoken by a shrill ringing from your phone at five o’clock in the morning on a saturday where hongjoong explained that he was overcome with inspiration for a commission from one of his patrons and it turned out so nicely it would be featured in an exhibition show later on in the week. the following friday, you all (seonghwa included) packed yourselves into yunho’s truck and drove down to see the exhibition.

around week five or six, you begin to wonder if san and mingi truly have nothing better to do with their lives based on the frequency of the texts flowing in and out of the group chat you were added to, all notifications about them going to various places in case anyone else wanted to join. yunho works what might as well be a full-time job but is apparently only part-time, an assistant at the local elementary school, and it really makes sense for someone like him to take up a job like that. mingi claims to have a job as well, although you have yet to figure out what exactly it is and don’t feel quite comfortable asking yunho to tell you. as for san — there’s not much to be said about him. he’s loud and quiet at the same time, in two starkly different ways. boisterous in public, always talking and playing around, but not once have you ever heard him talk about something personal. granted it’s only been a little over two months since you met the man, and of those two months, you’ve seen him maybe a dozen times at best. none of those instances have ever found you having a one-on-one personal conversation with the man.

during your eighth week, you meet jongho, who swings by the town on his way through quickly, but long enough to greet you and say he looks forward to getting to know you better later on. he’s sweet and friendly though, mature in a way that leaves you surprised when you recall that he’s supposed to be the youngest amongst the friend group.

week nine has you meeting yeosang, and it’s actually a long conversation that you share with him on a rusted bench outside the arcade that the others in your little new friend group are inside (aside from seonghwa, who has another late shift at the hospital). if someone were to ask you to recall the exact contents of that conversation, you would have a hard time simply because it was so much while also being nothing at all. he gave you his number in case you wanted to keep in touch before admitting that he’s terrible at responding and one conversation could take several days to get through.

week nine also brings about another oddity, one that stands out a lot more in your mind at the end of the day for two reasons. one: it’s terribly embarrassing and humiliating and whenever you think about it there’s this chill that goes down your spine because it’s that horrid.

“y/n darling, would you please run down the bread aisle? we need yeast and bagels,” your aunt says to you as you walk alongside her cart of groceries. because of yunho’s work schedule, you’re often the one left to be the grocery store helper, and it’s usually not much trouble or issue at all. the town is quaint, and the grocery store is far quainter, a very local and homey vibe to it between the aesthetic and the workers. you’ve almost got the layout fully memorized after the weekly visits, so you don’t have to wander around in search of something vaguely bread-like to find the aisle you’re looking for.

unlike usual, however, your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you round the corner of the shelves, and you don’t think to check if anyone is in front of you before pulling it out and continuing to walk forward.

yeonjun: hey y/n. i finally got settled in sydney! been so busy with the new job and friends that i’ve barely had time to myself to breathe, but i’ve got a few days off now! was wondering if you wanted to chat and catch up? i miss you lots xx

it shouldn’t hit you as hard as it does. you were expecting the text from your ex any day now, and frankly it’s coming much later than you anticipated (not that you were waiting around for it or anything). you split on good terms, it was a matter of different directions and different life paths, not anything unsavory or horrible that would result in the two of you being embittered. it’s just one text message, and yet it tells you a whole slew of things about how yeonjun is doing without you.

he’s where he always wanted to be, with a new job that pays so well he’s probably set for life if he keeps it, he’s busy and settled in with new people in a new place and happy. meanwhile, you’re off in an unknown town living with your aunt because you’re too broke to afford a place on your own, without a job, rejected from the school you desperately wanted to go to, with a damn degree that isn’t going to get you shit because you banked everything on getting into that graduate school. it’s not yeonjun’s fault; you’d be a cruel and heartless fool to ever blame him for being happy and living well because that’s all you ever wanted for him. that doesn’t make it hurt any less, though, and it doesn’t stop the burning in the corners of your eyes.

the moment comes to a crashing halt quite literally as you run face-first into another human being, still staring down at the notification. the impact is almost enough to knock you flat on your ass, and while you stay standing, the same can’t be said for the person you just hit. your initial reaction is of course to panic because you immediately assume you just took out an old person, but in your already panicked state, the tears come before an apology does. a dry sob heaves its way out your throat, one hand stretched to the person you hit and the other reaching up to cover your mouth.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, are you alright?” you ask before any other cries can slip out. a warm hand slips into yours, then there’s a resounding laugh that seems to penetrate every ounce of air in the room.

“it’s okay! i promise i’m fine. it takes a lot more than that to take me out!” thankfully, the person you knocked down is in fact not elderly and actually a man? boy? you can’t tell how old he is at first glance, but he surely looks younger than you. beyond the mole crowning the crest of his cheek under his eye, there’s another on his bottom lip that catches your eye immediately. somehow it distracts you from whatever mess is on top of his head — is his hair dark brown? blond? blue? light brown? you can’t really tell because it’s mussed in so many different directions, but even with how odd it is, something else pulls your attention less than a second later. once you notice it, it’s hard to take your eyes off of it. his eyes are a neutral shade of brown which isn’t at all shocking or out of the ordinary to you, but there are pretty rings of gold swimming through that sea of brown, a color that almost borders orange with how saturated the color is. he helps himself to his feet more than anything else because you’re still in a mixture of panic and tears.

“are you sure you’re alright? did i make you drop anything?” you see nothing on the floor or in the man’s hands, so you can only assume he has a cart elsewhere, but you would really hate to have knocked his groceries all over the place.

“no! well, you dropped me on my ass, but that’s okay.” he laughs again, and the sound floods your senses more than before, like a wave crashing into you at full speed before you have a chance to gain footing on the shore.

“i’m — i’m so sorry,” you repeat, and this time the apology comes with a shaky exhale. he shakes his head to the point where his hair falls further into his eyes as he brushes his hands down the back of his pants.

“it’s really quite alright. you look like you’re having a hard enough time already without me making things worse.” you were hoping in vain that he wouldn’t comment on your tears, but at least he didn’t say anything condescending about them. he’s not wrong; you’ve certainly had a rough day as of three minutes ago, but beyond that, you’ve had a rough couple of months and a year if you look back on it as a whole.

“are you sure i can’t like, i don’t know, pay for your groceries to make up for it?” you make the offer like you have the money to spare, but really you don’t and you’re silently hoping he either refuses or only has a loaf of bread and stick of butter in his cart.

“oh please don’t! i buy way too much stuff, i wouldn’t ask you to do that!” his lips turn at the corners, and you’re hit with a smile that can only be described as adorably lopsided. you catch yourself staring at it a beat too long but the stranger makes no comment on it; he simply goes back to speaking like he never stopped. “actually, i have an idea. you seem to be a new face around here so i’m not sure if you know, but i own a little coffee shop here in town!” he reaches a hand into his pocket and withdraws a small business card from it, extending his arm out to you with a little airy giggle. the sound is cruelly wholesome and adorable coming from a man you just steamrolled in a bread aisle. “if you want to make it up to me, you can drop by my cafe anytime you like!”

you take the card with what must be an expression of shock. he’s provided enough of a distraction to get your tears to stop flowing and now they’re starting to dry on your cheeks thankfully, but when you look up from the card with neatly crimped corners and the words “cafe aurora” etched onto them, your stranger has disappeared entirely. nowhere to be found in front of you, behind you, in the aisle, at either end of the aisle — just gone completely without a trace. you consider for a brief moment that you are in fact mentally compromised and imagining things, but the card in your hand is too real for that to be the case. you’ve never heard of the cafe, and the address seems to be rather close to your aunt’s neighborhood, so really it’s a wonder you haven’t been dragged there at some point before.

“y/n sweetie, did you get the stuff i asked you to get?”

“a-ah, no, sorry…” you turn to the sound of your aunt’s voice, head ducked to your chest in a fit of shame. the card makes a new home in your pocket alongside your phone. she must see the clear evidence of your tears — either red-rimmed eyes or messy tear tracks on your skin.

“oh, honey, are you alright? did something happen?”

“sorry, i didn’t get the yeast or bagels yet, i…” clobbered some random guy after receiving a text from your ex about how well he’s doing? yeah, that explanation might just make you seem even more off your rocker.

“don’t worry about it, hun. it’s okay to get a little mixed up and emotional; you’re still going through a lot. it takes time to get back to stable footing when you’re going through so much. let’s just grab the rest of the stuff and head home, okay?”

“yeah,” you mumble under your breath, still not able to look the woman in the eye as you answer her. there’s a fleeting part of you that wishes to do something impulsive and reckless, something that will take the edge off and quell the rampaging emotions in your chest. perhaps throw loaves of bread at the floor, scream at the milk section, something, anything. given how yunho described what happened to his father and how your aunt ‘took him away’ though, you aren’t keen on doing anything impulsive in front of the woman.

your phone sits heavy in your pocket, yet somehow that small card the stranger gave you weighs far more.

« ♡ »

any thought of that stranger leaves you by the next day, and the card finds its way to the top of your dresser where you promptly forget about it within a week. you do decide to go out at least twice a week with your new friends, although at the age of twenty-four, saying it like that makes you feel childish. and today you’ve decided to go to the arcade at nine o’clock in the evening on a friday because apparently yunho has not had a night off in a while and both san and mingi are available yet again. yunho and mingi walk ahead of you, san on your right.

“they always let us bring snacks in, dude. stop being paranoid.” mingi slaps the back of yunho’s head with the plastic bag dangling from his hands. it’s not enough impact to break the snacks inside, but yunho still pretends to be scandalized and snatch the bag out of mingi’s hands with the claim that he can’t be trusted to protect their children. “you’re about to eat our children!”

“i’m a better father than you could ever hope to be!”

san snorts, head falling back to expose the pretty line of his muscled neck. he’s rather quiet today — at least more than usual, but you’ve actually grown to quite like the easy and comfortable silence that hangs between you two at times.

“did you know they have a deal that if neither of them is married by 35, they’ll marry each other?” he inquires as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants. you feel a bit underdressed next to him as usual what with his button-down and loose-fit trouser combo, but he somehow always makes the outfits seem as comfortable as a pair of joggers.

“figures. they can’t live without each other anyway. only makes sense for mingi to marry into the family eventually.”

“careful. yunho might get ideas and try to set you up with him.” san quirks a brow at you, smile playing at his lips and dimple poking his cheek. though the man was highly intimidating at first (and for the next several weeks until you got past the awkward stage), you’ve grown to find a lot in common with him. not as much as hongjoong, but the lonely art child isn’t present today, so you’ll enjoy your time spent with san instead.

“please, even if yunho somehow managed to convince me to marry mingi, i would be a stranger in my own marriage because they’d spend all their time together.”

“we already third wheel every time they’re together, so it wouldn’t be too much of a change, right?”

ahead of you, yunho swings his plastic bag around a little to keep mingi from snatching it, and as he does, a napkin slips out of the opening of the bag. you were raised with some decency, of course, so you don’t hesitate to try to grab it as it whooshes by. the descent it makes is assisted by the lack of a strong breeze in the air, but you still have to chase it to the edge of the sidewalk to get within arm’s reach of it. you’re just about to grab hold of the flimsy material when a hand closes around your bicep and yanks you back so hard that your head bounces off air.

“wh—”

the blaring sound of a car horn interrupts you, a gust of air hits you with enough strength to make you stagger, and the napkin disappears entirely from sight as a vehicle speeds by less than a foot from your face. for a moment, your ears ring, and your heart beats so hard that you fear it might just pop out of your chest entirely if it doesn’t calm down.

across the street, under rays of yellow light from the lights illuminating the path, stands a man with hair neatly parted down the middle. dark brown, light brown, blue, and platinum. he regards you with nothing more than a disinterested stare, hands shoved deep in his pockets and expression so flat he could be a statue for all you know. or he could be a hallucination conjured up from a near-death experience just now, but that still hasn’t sunk in completely yet. either way — that stranger from the grocery store is standing across the street looking so stoic that it’s unnerving in a lot of ways. you don’t stare for long as the hand on your arm pulls you around and back to the sidewalk you were just on.

san stares back at you when you fully turn around.

“i’m fine,” you say without missing a beat, hoping that san can’t feel the way your muscles are trembling under his touch. his grip tightens a little.

“be careful.” you’d just gotten used to his demeanor, and now his eyes are back to intimidating you.

“y/n!?” yunho comes up on your left, pushing into your space to grab hold of your shoulders. he twists and turns you like it’ll show off some invisible wounds you’ve suffered, and the small voice in the back of your head echoes that his expression reminds you a lot of ones you saw on your father’s face from time to time. san’s hand slips from your bicep down to your wrist where his fingers decide to dip into the curve of your palm. you can’t tell if his hand is shaking against yours because of your own trembling or if it’s his own. the expression on his features tells you that it’s the latter.

even after you repeatedly assure yunho that you are alright, he refuses to stop fussing over you and demands that you walk on the inside of the sidewalk while he walks closer to the road just in case. and insists that you hold onto his arm which makes you feel like a child, but you’ll take the punishment for scaring him so badly minutes ago. you dare to glance back across the street before following the warpath to the arcade. it’s no surprise that no one stands on the other side, but you can’t stop thinking about how hard san’s hand was shaking against yours.

later you’ll tell yourself that you’re only bold enough to ask yunho about it because san and mingi are walking far enough ahead and talking loud enough to drown out your quiet questions.

“i’ve never thought to ask before but um, what exactly is san’s story? like how did he end up here? i never hear him talk about his family and he’s never away from mingi either so…”

“ah, yeah, that’s because he lives with mingi and his family! they met in college, roommates in freshman year and then they stuck with each other after. i think — well, i know there was some sort of incident that happened during college, and san had to drop out because of it. he didn’t finish college or go back, but he came here to live with mingi’s family, then mingi came down to live at home again when we graduated.” yunho’s steps falter and halt for a moment, eyes glaring holes into the sidewalk as he contemplates his next statement. “i don’t know exactly what happened to be honest. mingi never told me, but it’s not his business to anyway. i know san isn’t originally from around here though; he came from a bigger city with a family with lots of money. i don’t know where they are now or how san’s relationship with them is, but he doesn’t like talking about them, so i avoid asking.”

“ah. i’ll try to avoid it too then,” you mumble. staring at san’s broad shoulders and back offers no reprieve from the tangled thoughts running through your mind, nor do yunho’s words do much in the way of helping enlighten you on his character at all. if anything, you’re set even further back because what kind of thing has to happen for san to drop out and move in with his roommate’s family when he had a rich family from a large city all the while? it doesn’t add up in your head, but you aren’t about to go up to san and ask him about it point-blank.

no, instead you fall quiet and watch the man’s back as he talks to mingi as though he didn’t just possibly save your life and keep you from an early death. he’s as animated as ever, grinning along with mingi’s bright and loud tone that’s become something of music to your ears after only a few months of knowing him. you can’t exactly catch the thought before it occurs, but some voice in there pipes up to note that for the first time in a long while, you feel happy here. not only in this new place with new people but also in your life as well.

when you reach the arcade, there are already two people standing in front of the brightly lit building, one bearing a head of obnoxiously orange hair and the other a less familiar but not unwelcome sight of jet black hair against pale skin.

you pull your arm out from where it’s currently resting against the crook of yunho’s elbow as you see him.

“you didn’t say that yeosang would be here?!”

“i — i didn’t know either? hyung must’ve kept it from everyone,” yunho stutters, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks forward. “he’s gonna roast your ass so hard when he hears you almost got hit by a car.”

a scoff slips out of your mouth immediately, but you aren’t too bothered by the quip because it means that yunho won’t be high-strung and glued to your side out of worry throughout the entire night.

your theory proves to be correct because once you’re inside the arcade with the others, yunho peels away from your side to join mingi and san over at the dance pads, leaving you with yeosang and hongjoong. you don’t mind it all too much; you find it easy to converse with hongjoong as it is because of your shared art background, and the last time you saw yeosang, he piqued your interest enough for you to want to converse with him some more. so it’s no issue when you follow the pair to the air hockey table in the back, leaning up against the cool metal as they take positions on opposite sides of it.

“i didn’t know you were in town, yeosang,” you start as he pulls out a few coins.

“ah, yeah, came in earlier today! flew in from milan; hongjoong picked me up from the airport.”

“milan?” you echo, eyes going a little wide at how casual yeosang is in stating the fact. you know he’s a model, but the type of model as well as how prolific he is in his work are completely unknown to you. and right now it seems you were grossly underestimating how successful he is.

“i had a show there on monday. stayed a little while longer for some sightseeing. oh, that reminds me — joong, i brought back some photos for you.”

“oh? anything good?”

“mm, dropped by a few art installments and museums but they were rather boring.” the idea of such things being boring to yeosang almost makes you snort simple because of how pretentious it makes him sound. him and hongjoong being closer than the rest of the group would make sense in that regard. “took some photos of some more basic things for you. maybe it’ll get you in the mood?”

“inspire me, yeosang, i need it to inspire me. if i needed to be in the mood to paint, i’d just go mope around and listen to classical music.”

“you do that every week you don’t meet up with us…” you mumble, earning a sputter of denials from the man.

“i do not!”

“seonghwa called tuesday to complain about how you were staying up past when he got home from his late-night shifts.”

“and!? that doesn’t prove anything!”

“he said you were playing the piano music again…”

“oh come on, that was — what, it was once? maybe twice? over two years ago!”

you haven’t been here for long in comparison to these people who have known each other for years by now, and yet something about it all feels natural in the way that some people still feel like home after a long time away. you got that feeling when seeing your aunt and yunho, after the first awkward icebreaker week when you finally got settled in — the sense of returning to a place where you belong. that’s somewhat the feelings these people give you as well. mingi, san, yeosang, hongjoong, seonghwa, even jongho despite how brief your initial meeting was. your initial inhibitions and fears of being rejected or pushed away without reason for simply being sad and upset about the things you’re still reeling from were strong and present for the first several weeks. now, they’re there, but it’s almost as though they’ve been diluted to an indiscernible amount.

in short, they make it easy to be friends with them. and you appreciate it so deeply because it’s exactly what you needed after suffering so many losses.

at some point, you move over to the dance pads to watch the tail end of yunho and mingi’s grueling dance battle, standing beside a very engaged and loud san while yeosang and hongjoong linger a little further away so the latter can see all the pictures yeosang took for him. time always seems to pass quickly on nights like these, even when you want it to last longer, and it’s eleven o’clock before you know it, resulting in your little group getting ushered outside by tired staff members just trying to close for the night.

yeosang being in town and hongjoong actually attending for once must bring out a special occasion in everyone because that’s not where you part ways for the night. instead, you make the short walk over to the park down the road upon mingi’s insistence.

you don’t know how you end up alone with san. it’s quiet between the two of you, a sharp contrast to how he was with yunho and mingi in the arcade earlier, and you can’t pinpoint why. whether it’s the late hour, something on his mind, or anything else in-between. you function better as a human being when the other person is driving the conversation. san, however, doesn’t seem keen on starting one at all right now. the others are off god knows where doing god knows what as you stand with san at the corner of the park on the part of the sidewalk that isn’t dampened by the sprinkler system. at least the weather is nice tonight.

san shifts but doesn’t say anything, and you don’t realize what he’s up to until you see the slender line of a cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

“that’s bad for you,” you say, but there’s no real heat in your tone. san shrugs.

“i know. i’m a social smoker. don’t do it much.”

a breath, then a small stretch of silence that’s somewhat comfortable.

“can i have one?”

san glances at you out the corner of his eye. his gaze sweeps over your face, eyeing your hair, your eyes, your nose, your lips, then he gives your whole body a once over before climbing back up to look you in the eye again.

“no,” choi san answers simply, and his tone is so airy and light that you don’t have it in you to be upset over the refusal.

“okay.”

“it won’t fix anything.”

“yeah.”

“tell me, y/n, do you care for coffee?”

that’s how you end up walking along a rather empty sidewalk near midnight, choi san at your side as you balance yourself on the curb like it’s the game you used to play as a child. he’s still smoking, cigarette hanging from his lips despite no longer being around people, and you get the growing sense that it’s not entirely “social smoking” after all. not that it’s any of your business. you’re focused on not falling off this curb, after all.

the place he picks for coffee turns out to be a gas station and not an actual coffee shop, but it’s late to a point where you wouldn’t be surprised if there weren’t any cafes open at this hour. you follow him through the automatic sliding doors, eyeing the back of his short hair the whole way like it will explain his demeanor to you. the cigarette falls to his side locked between his index and middle fingers, and he keeps it lit despite the very evident sign on the door that says no smoking.

“you shouldn’t do that in here,” you mutter. san turns to look at you. he pulls the cigarette back up to his lips and takes a long drag before huffing the smoke out the corner of his mouth. the foul stench reaches your nose, and you try not to grimace.

“i know,” comes his reply. it’s flat, but not in a way that’s meant to be condescending.

“okay.”

you exchange a series of empty blinks with the man. he’s a conundrum honestly, one you can't pick apart fast enough, and frankly, you’re scared that sticking around too long might get you unfortunately attached. not detrimental, but certainly not needed given your recent failings, and you aren’t sure you want to see another relationship fall apart this soon after the last.

san turns forward again and keeps walking. you’re left to play catch up, jogging a little to match his long strides as he takes you to the back of the convenience store. it’s only then that you realize this isn’t about coffee at all. you don’t stop following him, not until you reach the little hallway between the bathrooms, where a dingy and old water fountain sits. san buries the butt of his cigarette in his pants leg, not batting an eye at the small ring it leaves behind, then runs it under the water of the fountain. once he’s satisfied with it, he drops it in the trashcan then turns to face you once more.

“well then.”

maybe you misread the tension in the air, maybe the scenario isn’t unfolding the way you think it is, because choi san is stuffing his hands into his pockets and staring at you without moving.

you decide, on a whim of bad judgment, that you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

it takes two steps to close the distance between your body and choi san’s, and one second to close your shaky fingers around his shirt that’s unbuttoned to his stomach.

the kiss tastes of smoke and ash, like soot that’s freshly fallen from a fire with a minty aftertaste that bites at the back of your throat so much you nearly cough into his mouth.

san meets your intensity and desperation with a fervor that speaks for itself, no need to even secure his hands at your hips with the way he’s backing you into the corner between the bathroom door and the water fountain.

belatedly, you realize you never messaged yeonjun back.

« ♡ »

you don’t talk about that night with san, not to him or to anyone else, but then again, why would you? it was a moment shared, one where you were (not at all) tipsy off a single drink at the bar, and he had done the same. so what’s there to talk about? misread signals and awkward encounters with the poor teenager on staff who found the two of you pressed into the corner of a gas station hallway? you did end up getting that coffee afterward though. it was nice enough, you suppose. tasted too much like mint and ash for your liking.

even if you did care enough to mention it, it’s not like anything would come out of it. you aren’t sure you even really want anything to either.

fucked up feelings and bad decisions are your forte, but you don’t wanna bring that into this brand new friend group when you have no other options in this godforsaken town. you got your impulse decision though, and with it came a slew of possibilities of what effect this could have on your friendship with san, with the group, your life in this town — it spirals out of control too fast for your liking. and when the nights grow old and fall far into morning territory, your brain likes to depict those thoughts like a poorly written play.

there’s one moment of weakness that happens two days after, one that you aren’t proud of in the slightest. in short, yunho finds you seated in an empty bathtub at two in the morning, spaced out and on the verge of tears.

the longer and more convoluted explanation would be that you received another text from yeonjun that was full of pleas for a response and him asking you to not throw away what’s left of your relationship (in kinder, gentler words). that alone would have been enough to take you out of commission for the night, but you got your yearly call from your dad around midnight because of your time differences.

you don’t hate the man, nor do you have a particularly bad relationship with him; it’s just that talking with him leaves you thinking about other things that are far less than pleasant and harder to deal with, so avoiding it entirely is often your choice. you ignored his first call in fact, but the second came through and you knew he would be insistent.

after that, well, yunho came in for his late-night bathroom trip and his soul nearly left his body seeing you in there with the lights off. it would have been amusing if not for the dismal mood.

less than a week later, you start seeing a therapist. it’s on your aunt’s command and the result of your first argument with the woman since you arrived. yunho called it ‘trouble in paradise’; you knew it to be a ticking time bomb. and frankly, your aunt did bring up several valid points. first: you sit around and do nothing all day unless you feel like going out with yunho or to the grocery store. true to a fault. second: all you do when home alone is watch television. not completely true because you sometimes do your laundry or cook something, but still true enough. third: you simply seem physically, mentally, and emotionally unwell.

that was what triggered the argument. the direct attack had hit you like a brick being hurdled across the room even though you were standing two feet away from your aunt at the time. it was enough of a wake-up call to get you to listen to her pleas, coupled with the edge of desperation in her voice as she explained how she just wants you to be okay. it lands you in a cold and hard cushioned chair beside a woman who sits with one leg crossed over the other and glasses perched on the tip of her nose. she always looks the same every time you go, the only differences lying in her outfits and hairstyles.

“i suppose i’m feeling lost right now.”

“because of what, y/n?”

you wave a dismissive hand through the air, untucking your foot from where it currently sits underneath your other leg, and you press it to the floor like it will do something to ground you.

“i have no real direction in my life right now. so much of what’s happening to me feels… out of my control. and like, a lot of people tell me that i should just do whatever i want while i can but to be honest, i don’t know what it is that i want if i want anything at all.”

“that’s a shockingly normal mindset for many college graduates to have, y/n. you’d be surprised how many share that line of thought.”

“i suppose. i think because i lost everything i had so quickly, it hit harder. at the same time, part of me feels as though it hasn’t fully sunk in or hit yet.”

“you’re having to adjust to many things at once. how does that make you feel?”

that’s the cursed question of the hour every time you visit. and in many ways, you think it’s meant to be confusing and catch you off-guard even though you ought to expect it by now.

“the people around me… i think they imagine me to feel overwhelmed by it all, but honestly, if i don’t think about what i lost when coming here, i feel quite fine. it’s when — yeah, when i start thinking about all that.”

“before college, did you have any dreams that you wanted to see fulfilled, y/n?” her pen is dragging against the notepad over her knee. the anxiety-riddled part of your brain begs for a reprieve, to know what she’s writing, what she thinks of you, or perhaps even if she has a damn answer to your life’s problems.

“yeah, i used to want to travel.” i was going to go to sydney with my boyfriend. those words stay on your tongue and never meet the air. “go around the world and see new things. i got my degree in photography and art but that fell through when i couldn’t get into grad school.”

“tell me a bit more about that. why do you think graduate school is such a necessity?”

you shrug and offer no further response at first. eyes find the wall and stare at a rather inconspicuous dot there as you mull over your thoughts.

“i’m not even sure anymore. it’s what my parents wanted me to do. to them, if i was going to get a degree in something like art and photography, then i needed the graduate degree to succeed and get actual work.”

“do you believe them?”

“…yes.” you think of hongjoong and the six figures he apparently has in his bank account. “no. maybe, i don’t know.”

“and since moving here, have you tried drawing or taking photos at all? anything to stimulate that part of your brain or even just to do for fun?”

“n-no,” you admit, turning back to look at the floor under your feet. you shake your head a little late. “i haven’t really been able to since everything came down on me. i guess i’m worried about it being hard or less enjoyable than it used to be.”

“that’s understandable. it can be scary to go back to that thing when you are feeling so much failure from it. why, if you don’t mind me asking, were you rejected from the grad school you applied to?”

“um, it was because of my grades. some core classes that i didn’t do well in that brought my GPA down enough to get rejected.”

“so it wasn’t your art or photography classes? or your portfolio, i assume?”

“no, no, uh, they said it was my math and science grades.” when you blink up at the woman, she’s wearing a slight smile on her lips, gaze gentle as it washes over you. it doesn’t hit you as to why until you stop to think about what was said.

“your skill in art and photography were not to your detriment, y/n. do you see that?”

“yes.” it’s tougher to admit that than you thought it would be.

“tell you what, y/n. why don’t we do a little exercise for this week? i would like you to take a few photos or draw something if you can. in nature preferably so you can spend some more time outside, but mind your own boundaries and do so wherever you’re comfortable, okay?”

the doctor made it seem entirely too easy, or at least that’s what you think as you leave the building and stare into a far too bright sun and suddenly have many regrets about agreeing to go outside for this. you’ll get over it once your eyes adjust, but for now, you glare at the ground the entire time you’re walking to the car where san waits to pick you up. yunho would have been the one to get you, but alas, his work schedule got in the way, and your aunt was also busy so here you are. getting into san’s car after therapy with his sharp stare and expectant expression glued to the side of your face as you settle in the passenger seat. it’s no secret what you were doing; you had to give him the address and name of the building after all, and that wasn’t exactly inconspicuous especially since he had to make the forty-five-minute drive out of town to get you to the city for it. you can’t explain why your body is burning with shame, nor do you like the fact that it is.

therapy is normal. it’s healthy. there’s nothing wrong with it.

but the self-instilled prejudice against it, along with the societal implications that go hand-in-hand with those thoughts, drive your shame to an impossible degree.

“how was it?” he asks as the car doors snap to their automatic locks.

“it was fine. as far as those things go.”

san snorts.

“yeah, i know what you mean. do you want me to take you straight home?”

you draw your lips into a purse and stare at the dash as though it’ll give you an answer.

“actually, can we do something else really quick?”

san ends up taking you to the nearest art supply store, where you pick up a fresh sketchbook along with a new set of pencils to replace your worn down and ancient ones. he doesn’t offer much beyond pointless conversation, things that would never imply that the two of you made out in the back of a gas station convenience store just a week ago. that’s fine by you; you aren’t ready to think about the implications anyway.

there’s an odd thrum of energy on the drive back, however, and that’s not something you can ignore as easily. you do your best to anyway.

“you got your degree in photography, right?”

“um, yeah, photography as my major then i got an art minor as well.”

“do you still take pictures and stuff?” san stares forward at the road ahead, but there’s something about the way he speaks that makes you feel like you have his full, undivided attention on you.

“not so much anymore, no. my camera is on my dresser but i… i haven’t really touched it since moving here.”

“there’s this place i really like going to.” he pauses there, leaving you to blink at his sharp features and side profile in curiosity. it’s such an odd thing to say out of nowhere, although you sense where it’s going moments before he continues speaking. “it overlooks a hill that’s covered in cherry blossom trees. they aren’t blooming right now, but it’s still a really pretty sight.”

it’s there. the invitation, the implication, the hidden meaning to his words — san is asking you if you want to see them with him, and you aren’t fool enough to say no to such an invitation.

“i’d that to see that sometime then,” you reply, and it comes out more like a whisper than anything else.

“you said you’ve got your camera at home?”

it feels like you are unknowingly signing away some part of your life you don’t know about. and maybe if you had more sense in your body, you would realize how this will inevitably turn out given what’s already happened, and the regrets from your first impulsive decisions would echo back now.

even if they do ring in your ears now, you ignore them.

“we can drop by and pick it up, if you want.” you pose the offer, even though san is the one asking you if you’re okay with coming along. he agrees nonetheless.

when you arrive back at your aunt’s house, san tells you to stay put as he climbs out of the car and walks around the front. you aren’t sure why you’re inclined to listen to him, but you do as he says, watching with wary eyes as he reaches your side of the car and pulls the door open for you.

“i’ll wait out here for you,” he says when you step out into the open air. your chin tilts up a little in question.

“you can come in if you want.”

“i’m sure your aunt wouldn’t want me smoking in her house.”

a small noise of realization slips out of your mouth, and san flashes a cigarette dangling between his fingers. you hadn’t even seen him pull it out, but he must have done so before helping you out of the car. he’s lighting it a second later, something that should make you step back and out of his breathing space because of how unpleasant the smell it.

“that’s… yeah.” you shouldn’t want to kiss him again, you shouldn’t want to go down that route or making things messier because logic tells you not to. yet him taking a drag from that damn cigarette triggers something of a pavlovian response in you that makes you want to lean into his space and lick the smoke off his lips. and when the door of opportunity opens, you step through it like it’s the home behind you. this instead manifests in you pushing into san’s space with his movements mirroring yours like he knows what your intentions are. he only has to push his chin down a little to reach your lips, holding his cigarette out to the side and away from your body as though he fears hitting you with it. your hands are curling around the fabric of his shirt — this time a plain muscle tee hidden underneath a leather jacket — and you get exactly what you’re after a moment later, tongue making its way to san’s lower lip. the taste is sweeter today, perhaps because he barely started smoking, but the bit of mint of his skin gives you the hit you want.

“go get your camera, then i’ll take you out there,” san murmurs into your mouth, soft pants filling your skin with warmth. it’s nice, you think, to have this, even if it’s out of impulse and not anything of substance.

“where exactly are you taking me?” you inquire as you let your hands relax against his shirt. if you think too hard about it, you’d note how you can feel his muscles twitching under your palm.

“hotel at the outskirts of town. i’ll make the reservation while you’re inside.”

it’s concerning how little communication flows between the two of you. although you’re speaking and saying things to each other, this can hardly be called proper communication because of how much you’re omitting. from the ‘why are we doing this’, ‘are we really doing this’, even the mutual agreement is out the window almost, if not for your eagerness to nod along with san’s words.

there’s something of a haze over your brain when you pull back from san’s touch, his lips nearly chasing yours for a split second before he replaces your spot with his cigarette once more. the walk through your home to reach the camera seems to take twice as long as usual, and yet with your brain running a mile per minute, you somehow feel rushed and frazzled at the same time. it’s an odd dichotomy that choi san has put you into, one you can’t fully pick apart and explain. it persists well after you retrieve the camera off your dresser and return to his car, goes beyond when he opens the car door for you to slip inside again before proceeding to walk around the front while finishing off the last of his cigarette. when he sits back in the driver’s seat, he smells of smoke and ash and mint.

the implications of what you are going off to do with this man weigh heavy on your shoulders. he’s not unattractive in the slightest; you’d be a fool to not feel even the slightest bit of sexual attraction when it comes to him. and right now, arguably, you’re feeling it more than a little with the way you keep pressing your thighs together when his hand travels over to your seat and plants itself on your upper thigh. the touch is equally testing as it is teasing, and your subtle response to his inaudible question of “is this okay” is enough for him to continue. it’s not so much a big deal as it is a hairpin trigger releasing you into shark infested waters that contain regret, bad decisions, and ruined relationships. you’d be happy to float in that water like a leaf, drowsy and uncaring about the effects your actions have on the people around you. the more anxiety-riddled part of your brain screams that no, that’s not an option, you have to stop being selfish.

you’ve suffered enough these past few months.

you’ve lost enough.

whatever this thing with choi san is, you’re going to take it and consume it while you can, rocking lazily back and forth in the waters with his arms around your waist threatening to bring you down.

« ♡ »

the trend, you’ve learned, has become to simply not talk about what you do in your private time with san.

does it become a habit? yes, unfortunately, one that occurs once a week if not more than that. it becomes difficult when yunho starts getting home before you do, and you’re forced to answer his questions as to where you’ve been, but just saying “out with san” suffices enough because he doesn’t think there’s anything suspicious there. at least he doesn’t voice it. he usually just shrugs and says it’s good that you’re getting out more.

you never stay the night at the nice hotel on the outskirts of town, one that’s surely pricey given how it has velvet upholstery and silk sheets in the bedroom, along with a bathroom that’s bigger than your room in your aunt’s house. the balcony attached to the room is where you spend most your time after your less than savory sexual activities with san. he always pulls the purple velvet armchairs out the sliding doors and sets them out on the balcony so you two can sit and watch the night sky together before it gets too late. it seems bizarre to you that he would spend so much money renting the room out for the night only to never ask if you want to stay over; san always without fail brings you home at midnight, waving to the receptionist on the way out like this is a totally normal situation.

on the bright side (yes, there is one, and it’s one your therapist really enjoys hearing about), you take lots of photos while over at that hotel with san. usually, you use the balcony as a vantage point to take pictures of the stars and moon, or if the moon is full enough, you’re able to get good photos of the landscape with yellow moonlight splashed over it. you start bringing your camera to your therapy sessions just to show the doctor your work with no shortage of pride, because it’s something you’re good at and you’ll be damned if you don’t get to show off the one thing you worked so hard on for four years.

you spend a lot more time outside and in the park as well, which is also good for you because it means more sun and outside air, and you’re no longer tired all the time as you used to be. you don’t always go out with people, sometimes it’s better if you get to be out on your own with your thoughts. sometimes one of your friends will drop by if you’ve been out long enough. other times, a certain stranger finds you there.

the first time it happens you write it off as a coincidence. the man with four (yes, four still) shades in his hair waves at you from across the grass, and you offer a shy wave in response. he passes on and leaves you be.

the second time, he stops to speak with you.

“hi. out here alone again?”

“you know that sounds creepy, right?” you argue, but you think you could take him in a fight. easily.

“oh, does it? sorry! i just meant you seem to be out here alone a lot. not that i’m watching you!” the way he fumbles with his words and struggles to stop digging his grave deeper is almost endearing. you laugh as he shakes his head and slaps his own cheeks. “i’m wooyoung, by the way! you probably only know me as the grocery store victim or that weird stranger who keeps bothering me at the park.”

“wooyoung,” you repeat, testing the name on your tongue then letting it go on loop in your mind until you think you’ve got it down. “it’s nice to meet you, wooyoung. i’m y/n.”

“y/n,” he echoes back to you. that little bit of your brain that produces serotonin trills from the sound of it on his lips, an inexplicable joy coming from just that one thing. “you like photography then?” he motions to the camera in your hands.

“yeah, well, i majored in it actually. so i sure hope i like it.”

“cute,” the stranger giggles. you’re a simple girl. being called cute makes your heart do backflips and somersaults, and this is no exception. “i’ve got to run back to the cafe right now, but if we ever happen across each other again, i’ll stop and ask to see your pictures, okay? be ready for it!”

for some reason, you laugh at the odd demand and nod.

it stops becoming a coincidence when this stranger starts showing up every time you’re alone in the park, like he’s got some sixth sense that you’re on your own or he really is following you around without you knowing. you aren’t sure whether it’s enough for you to call him a friend, although you admittedly enjoy his presence a little too much for him to be only a stranger. he loves looking at the new photos you’ve taken since you saw him last, always asking to look them over when you aren’t in the middle of taking one. the company is nice in a way you’re afraid to admit. he likes to linger at your side, likes to make jokes just to see you smile and laugh, sometimes steps in front of your line of sight while you’re trying to take a picture just to mess with you. those pictures always end up being your favorites.

oddly, san loves seeing your photos as well. at least, he enjoys watching you take them while you’re out on the balcony together. you think nothing of it — assuming it to be an easy way for him to pass the time while he’s doing his nightly smoke — and that’s how it remains until one night when you’re out for dinner with the whole group.

you’ve made a habit of keeping tracking of the time in terms of how long it’s been since you arrived in town, so to put it in perspective for yourself, it’s week seventeen when the first cog falls into place, one marking your unlabelled relationship with choi san in a public manner.

“y/n is really good a photography, you know,” he states to the table just before the waitress arrives with your food. he’s sat across from you, sandwiched between mingi and yunho’s lanky forms while you’re seated opposite him with seonghwa and hongjoong on either side of you. it’s not so much the statement that catches you off-guard as it is the confidence with which he says it, like it’s his little secret to share even though your cousin is right next to him and the whole table knows what you majored in at university. “she could do an exhibition with you, joong.”

hongjoong blinks over at you, eyes lighting up with joy in a split second, and you don’t have time to look at san’s small smile or the dimple poking a hole in one side of his cheek before hongjoong is pulling your attention off him.

“oh, do you have a portfolio? a website maybe? i’d love to see your work!” hongjoong is as animated as ever, and seonghwa offers a sigh on your other side before urging the man to not bombard you with questions until after you’ve eaten. and there choi san sits across the table with the same half-smile and almost enough light in his eyes to make you believe that perhaps there’s a little weight to what the two of you have been doing for the past six weeks.

you decide not to bring it up right away, letting the incidence stew in your brain for exactly two days until you are next alone with san, which happens to be on another outing with mingi and yunho. jongho and yeosang are in town this time around, and that’s frankly the only reason you all go out in the first place. you, with your camera in hand and san seated beside you on the grass in the park as the others play soccer a little ways away.

“why did you mention my photos to hongjoong?” you ask, fiddling with one of the buttons on the back of your camera. san glances over at you as he shrugs off his jacket. it’s nearing winter and yet he’s still wearing a tank top like it’s the middle of summer. you almost feel cold just by looking at him.

“because they’re good. and he likes looking at photos for art inspiration.”

you blink up from the back of your camera, but your gaze doesn’t go straight to san. it lingers on the group before you, the soccer ball on the ground racing across the grass, and the few trees that still have orange and brown leaves on their limbs. you snap a quick photo then return to examining it before speaking again.

“they’re just photos. i wouldn’t say they’re nearly as exciting as joong’s art.”

“still your work though.”

“and that makes it good?”

san twists at the neck to look over you. admittedly, there’s specific words you want to hear from his lips, but you’re too afraid to even voice the thought to yourself.

“yeah. isn’t that enough?”

“tell that to the grad school who rejected me.” you mutter that bit under your breath, so you can’t be sure whether san really heard it or not, nor does he offer any indication that he has. instead he reaches down for your camera bag, nudging it with an index finger and arching a brow in your direction. the gesture confuses you for a split second before you realize what he’s after. “yeah go ahead. there’s probably photos in there.”

you used to treat that camera bag as your most prized possession, the place where you stored keepsakes of all sorts and kinds, and you thought you moved them all out of there when you got your rejection letter. emphasis on thought, because as san rifles through the bag, he pulls out a stack of old and fading polaroids you must have forgotten to take out. you nearly fumble the camera at the sight of them, eyes catching the figures on the one on the top of the stack in an instant. san pays your blunder no mind and continues to flip through the photos. he lingers long enough on each one to get a good look at them, all containing the same person or people.

“is this you?” he asks eventually as he finally pauses on one of them.

“yeah… um, yeah we used to take lots of pictures when we were younger.”

“who’s this in the pictures with you?”

“that’s m-my younger sister.”

“you look young here.”

you nod even though he’s not looking your way, a poor mimicry of the way your heart is racing inside your chest.

“i was around twelve years old in those probably. my sister was seven.” if you think about it too hard, you’d remember that it’s almost time for you to call your dad, but that’s something you aren’t ready to recall quite yet. san must notice your hesitance surrounding the subject, pausing his fingers where they trail over the top of one of the photos. the silence hanging between your bodies feels infinitely heavy in a way that shouldn’t even be possible. he clears his throat and sets the stack of photos down in your camera bag again.

“you know, my family died a few years ago. when i was a junior in college, um, that’s why i didn’t finish school actually. i kinda flunked out, really, bubt the school was nice enough to have pity and just called it a drop out instead so it wouldn’t look as bad. i came here to live with mingi’s family because i didn’t have anyone else to go to, no money to afford a place, couldn’t stay on campus since i was no longer a student either. after everything processed and the funerals went through, i got some money from the will but mingi’s family insisted i stay.” san’s lips press to form a thin line, then he sets his jaw like he’s about to hiss through his teeth. “it was a car accident that… did them in. a really bad one. i didn’t even get the chance to have a hospital visit. that’s why when — when you almost got hit that night a few months back i freaked out so badly. even though i wasn’t there with my family at the time, sometimes just the thought of a car accident is hard to deal with. time has passed, sure, but it’s still something that comes back around every once in a while to haunt me.” san picks at a few blades of grass by his feet.

even after all the things you’ve done with this man by now, this is still the first true vulnerable and emotional conversation you’ve had with him. the fucking and playing around are merely that; neither of you open the door of opportunity to things like this either because you’re afraid or too worried about what that entails. you hate to think this is a step in your relationship, forward or backward or sideways — you aren’t sure. he’s not crying, hardly emotional to the visible eye at all really, but something about the way he speaks about his past makes you inherently sad.

“is that the way it is for you as well?” he inquires. you blink at the side of his face in a moment of dumbfounded wonder for far too long because your brain isn’t catching up to the situation quick enough, but one glance at the polaroids in your camera case gives you the clue you need. you knew him to be in tune with your body, to know which buttons to push and how to get you to squirm under his touch in no time, but for him to pick up on your emotions tied to the photos so quickly like this is something new for certain.

“yeah,” you murmur. it’s out of sheer instinct that your eyes go down to the polaroid on top of the stack, where younger versions of you and your sister stand, hugging and smile without a care in the world like nothing would ever be wrong in life. it’s almost funny looking back. even after your mother was out of the picture, you still thought your family was untouchable and perfect. “she died when she was fourteen. it’s… still something that’s sensitive when the anniversary comes around even though i’ve gotten lots of professional help to deal with the trauma. there are always thoughts of ‘why couldn’t i be there’ and ‘where did i go wrong as a sister to let this happen’. and i was a sophomore in college at the time too. just — just getting the call was the hardest part. i didn’t know what she was going through, didn’t know she was in so much internal pain that it drove her to do what she did because i couldn’t be there with her. i still think my dad took it the hardest since he was the only one taking care of her at the time, so i felt so… fucking guilty for the longest time, both because i wasn’t able to be there for both of them and because part of me didn’t feel like i deserved to hurt as much as i did compared to my dad.”

“i experienced that too,” san mutters, and it’s a quiet admission that leaves you straining to hear it. “the guilt of not being able to be there when it happened, sometimes even the guilt of surviving when they didn’t… for a long time, i wanted to die because i thought it was too much for one person to bear.” the man leans back, moving his arms out from where they prop up against the grass, and he’s lying flat on his back in the grass a moment later.

“what changed?”

he hums.

“i didn’t die.”

you nearly scoff at how ridiculous that statement sounds. obviously he didn’t die, he’s right in front of you, talking to you, speaking to you, and —

“they died on accident, and i didn’t even when i was trying to. don’t you think that’s a sign from the universe that i’m meant to stay?”

you scoff for real this time, settling down in the grass beside san to stare up at the same clouded sky.

“that’s a romanticized way of thinking about it, don’t you think?”

“maybe, but it’s given me a reason to not want to try any longer.”

“i’m glad. that you don’t try anymore, i mean.”

he almost smiles.

“i was rushing towards a cliff and hoping that i would hit rock bottom as quickly as possible.”

it’s funny, in a way, because that statement alone could describe your entire relationship with san, from the first impulse decision until now. you subconsciously reach for his hand. his fingers dance over yours, searching and grabbing for all of two seconds before he withdraws his hand completely from your grasp.

“now, i think i prefer moving much slower than everyone else, to better enjoy the parts of life i tried to rush through.”

you hope that your rock bottom doesn’t end in flames, that the hotel room your relationship exists in doesn’t fade to grey, and the mental polaroids you take of choi san day in and day out don’t turn brittle.

« ♡ »

two weeks later, you find yourself back in the same park on the same grass with camera in hand. this time, however, you are on your own without your friends to keep you company, but that’s mostly because you opted not to tell anyone you were heading over to the park. your phone keeps buzzing behind you in a way that indicates that there are plans either being made or already in motion. you are more occupied with the family of rock squirrels darting around the grass several feet away.

the conversation you shared with san is always in the back of your mind somewhere, moving like these squirrels do such that it’s noticeable and takes over your focus several times a week, but you and san don’t dare go back to those vulnerable and emotional conversations.

you imagined it would shift something in your relationship.

it didn’t.

a day later when you finally had the opportunity to go back to the hotel with him, he fucked you so hard that you had bruises lining your hips the next day. you didn’t talk about it, you allowed it to happen because it was something you wanted when he posed the question of “can i be rough tonight”, and perhaps it was simply another impulse decision to regret later. you didn’t ask why he wanted it, nor did he explain himself. it happened, you did it, you moved on from it.

you’ve learned that making assumptions with choi san is wildly unpredictable and unreliable because he changes his mind on a whim so often. the little sting of pain you felt in your chest when he so quickly yanked his hand away from yours was a wake up call in a way. it didn’t keep your feelings from being hurt, or stop your less-friendly-more-romantic feelings towards him from continuing to blossom, but it gave you a reality check at least.

all in all, aside from that mess, you’d say that you’re doing rather well in life. you called your dad last week on the anniversary, and for some reason, this year was easier than the last. it sounded that way for your father as well. the call with your mother didn’t go as smoothly, but there’s a reason you avoid talking to her as much as possible, and that only proved your point further. you keep up with therapy even though you think you’re nearing a point where you no longer need it; the extra security of getting to talk through thoughts about the future helps enough to make you continue going. last tuesday, you gave your portfolio to hongjoong for him to look over, and he promptly gave you a scrap of paper with a number scrawled on it, telling you to call them immediately. as it turns out, you now have a slot in hongjoong’s next exhibition for some of your photos, which is insane to think about considering how awful your parents were about your major. this opportunity is one that you never imagined possible because of their views on your future, so to see it come to life like this is nothing short of a miracle in your mind.

you’re in the midst of editing one of the photos you took of the squirrels when someone sneaks up on you from behind.

“what are you doing?”

the sudden question and foreign voice hits you so hard that you startle, nearly dropping your camera and falling over, but a pair of hands dart out to steady both you and the camera. your gaze goes up and up until it lands on smiling lips, full cheeks, and brown eyes that have gold rings around the center. wooyoung has eyes that would look good under the lens of a camera and a smile to match. you huff and lift the camera to your face to snap another picture of the squirrels. wooyoung leans far enough into the frame so that only his face and blinding smile are visible, and you find yourself snapping the photo anyway.

“hi. sorry for scaring you. mind if i sit down?” he motions to the empty space beside you. to be honest, you’re of half a mind to deny him simply for scaring you out of your skin, but his smile is warm enough to compel you to say otherwise.

“go ahead,” you mutter, relaxing your shoulders as he settles onto the grass beside you. “how did you know i was here?”

“i didn’t! i swear, i’m not like — i’m not following you or anything weird! i was just out for a walk because the weather is nice and saw you over here alone, so i thought i’d come say hi.”

“okay.” you narrow your gaze but there’s no heat to the stare. “you’re kind of odd, you know.”

“you say that every time!” wooyoung whines before puffing his cheeks full of air.

“maybe you should stop sneaking up on me and start texting me to announce your arrival.”

“are you ever going to call me? i gave you my number for a reason, you know,” he counters, lifting a brow at you yet still smiling away. “why should i be the first one to text, hm? call me first so i can hear your pretty voice sometime, y/n~”

that’s another thing you’ve learned about wooyoung in a short amount of time: he’s a fucking flirt most of the time. not in trashy or sleazy kind of way either, but the kind of way that gets your heart racing and nerves running wild because he’s already charming enough without the flirting. your usual responses to those advances are just to sputter and stumble over your own words since he picks either the most inopportune times to flirt or just drops the remarks on you out of nowhere.

“oh, you brought a sketchbook today! you’re an artist too?” he thankfully diverts the subject today before you start getting flustered.

“shouldn’t you know that by now? it’s been two months since you started following me around here.” your quip is light-hearted and doesn’t hold much weight to it, the kind of thing you would say to a friend, and wooyoung takes it for what it is. he pouts his lower lip out, accentuating that pretty mole on the side. when he leans into your space, you simply let him, and he knocks his shoulder against yours with a huff before dropping his head to your arm. the action makes your heart skip several beats, enough to be concerning at least.

“you never mentioned art before! that’s no fair, you can’t hold it against me.”

“art minor, but i think i’m much better at photography.”

wooyoung smiles against your shoulder, and you feel the imprint of his lips well after he sits up straight again.

“little did you know i’m pretty good with a camera myself. moreso videos, but i’ve been known to take some good photos too.”

you nearly hand over your camera and ask him to prove it, but he continues speaking before you have the chance to.

“would you mind if i took a few pictures of you? not to keep for myself, obviously, but for your own safekeeping.”

“i don’t usually keep photos of myself,” you say with a small tilt to your chin. the request in and of itself isn’t the strangest, but the fact that he would want to take them simply for you to keep them is. wooyoung shrugs.

“some other time then.” he pulls himself to his feet so quickly you worry that you’ve offended him by denying the request, but then a hand stretches out to where you’re still seated on the ground. “would you like to visit my cafe? drinks are on me obviously, i won’t make you pay. but i gave you my invitation card several months ago and you still haven’t come, so that’s kinda a good reason to come, don’t you think?”

you don’t take his hand right away, instead mulling over the idea as you stare at his expectant face.

“okay.”

he helps you pack your camera up and even carries the bag over his shoulder as the two of you leave the park. when his hand slips into yours when you reach the sidewalk, you think nothing of it, if only to protect your already fragile and shaky heart from further destruction. it’s warm and cozy in a way that your nights with san aren’t, however, and you tell yourself that’s the only reason you cling to his hand tighter. it feels okay to do so, which is more than what can be said about your relationship with san seeing as you two dash around trying to hide your activities from everyone else in your lives.

wooyoung takes you to a building you can’t recall ever seeing before even though you recognize most of what’s around it. it certainly looks like a cafe, what with the big windows on either side of the door peeking into a cozy and neutral-toned room that looks welcoming. the door itself looks quite out of place with how ragged it is, old wood with animals carved into the wood against a more modern look for the windows. wooyoung doesn’t give you much time to look at them, but from what you gather on your first prolonged glance, there’s a donkey and what seems to be a crane on the wood, intertwined at the neck and stretching up to the upper lip of the door. if you compare the building to the other ones on the block, then perhaps the windows would be the things out of place since everything in the central part of town has an old-timey vibe to it.

the interior is warmer than the winter weather outside, and it’s just as cozy as you imagined it to be from visual you got through the windows. the color palette overall reminds you of wooyoung’s eyes actually — deep browns with golds and oranges that nearly blend together, matching the flames that dance through a fireplace burning away against one of the walls. it’s arguably a less predictable approach to a cafe; booths and couches replace tables and chairs, and the only traditional thing about its appearance are the stools and tall tables near the windows. towards the back, there’s a huge coffee bar with plenty of open space behind it along with glass displays containing pastries of all kinds. the odd thing, another one for the list that is, is that there is no cashier or register in sight, just an empty space where orders must be delivered. and though you expected the place to be completely empty since wooyoung has given you no indication that anyone else works here, you spot some people who come into view as you step further into the cafe, near the fireplace and laid out on the couches. you almost blink by them without interest, and you probably would have if not for the head of neon orange hair you spot a second later.

“hongjoong?”

the owner of the orange hair jolts upwards, pressing the sketchbook in his hands to his chest like he’s trying to conceal what he was doing. his companion on the couch opposite him doesn’t budge, eyes still shut but twitching at the sudden noise. you only recognize it to be seonghwa because of his scrubs.

“heh, i finally convinced her to come, hyung,” wooyoung chirps, lifting your joined hands like it’s a personal victory.

“you know each other!?”

“of course! known each other for years now! along with the others! we don’t get to hang out as much because i’m always busy here, but they come hang out whenever they feel like it.” wooyoung beams at you like this isn’t some big revelation, like you haven’t been out of the loop for months apparently, because all this time no one thought to mention this cafe or wooyoung at all. you aren’t offended; it would be childish for you to be hurt by such a thing honestly. the confusion is more than slightly present, however, seeing as you can’t rectify why wooyoung would be someone they would want to conceal. wooyoung must pick up on how you’re feeling because he drops your hand to nudge you in the side with his elbow. “you could have been here all this time if only you took me up on my first invitation.”

hongjoong moves off his couch, snapping his little spiral sketchbook shut and setting it on the cushion before coming over to where you and wooyoung stand.

“hyung, want a drink? i’m gonna go make one for y/n.”

“yeah, yeah, americano, you know how i like it.”

“yep! y/n, what do you want?”

“um, surprise me,” you mutter back, blinking from man to man like it’ll answer the questions running rampant in your mind.

“do you like sweet things? you must since you seem to like me so much, heh.” wooyoung pokes his own cheek just beyond where his lips end and dips the skin like he’s trying to create a dimple there.

“i, uh, yeah, i do.”

“perfect!” wooyoung disappears in the blink of an eye, heading off to the coffee bar with a little too much excitement in his steps.

“you’ve known him all this time?” you ask the second he’s out of earshot. hongjoong tilts his head in question. “i mean… you guys never invited me over here?”

“wooyoung asked us not to.”

“he asked you not to,” you echo. disbelief creeps in, and hongjoong looks off towards the ceiling.

“he said he would invite you when he was ready to.”

“he invited me months ago.”

“yet you never came until now.” the man brings a hand to his already mussed hair and runs his fingers through the messy locks. “none of us were intentionally hiding anything from you. we were just respecting wooyoung’s wishes. he’s not the best with new people and likes to get to know them himself before bringing them here. and him bringing you here is a big thing for him.” now that makes close to no sense in your mind seeing as it’s a cafe and the whole purpose of a shop is for people to come and go whenever. “he didn’t invite you as a customer, y/n. i think you’re smart enough to realize the difference.”

and there is a difference, one that you do pick up on, and you recognize it because it leaves a soaring feeling in your chest like your heart is ready to escape altogether. you aren’t ready to face that fluttering yet, so you change the subject as best you can. you nod towards where seonghwa sleeps near the fireplace.

“were you drawing him?” a flash of panic crosses hongjoong’s features. when he looks over at the other man, his expression goes soft, a little wistful and melancholic in a way that hurts to look at if you stare too long. “you looked a little guilty when i interrupted you.”

“could make a whole exhibition with just those drawings one day, i think.”

“that’s okay.” you turn to the coffee bar where wooyoung stands behind it, working his magic at the machines with a certain ease and grace that makes you want to take a picture of him. “i think if i was brave enough, i’d have a whole album of photos myself.”

hongjoong raises a brow, and you don’t realize those words actually slipped out until it’s too late.

“i see it. would’ve thought it to be san though.”

the speed at which you jerk your head towards him has you seeing stars, and you almost want to throw up thanks to how quickly a lump rises in your throat. you’ve done nothing wrong really. so why do you feel so guilty?

“no,” you answer as quickly as you can. “there’s nothing there.”

“right. my bad.” hongjoong shoves his hands into his pockets and continues to stare in wooyoung’s direction like he’s trying to see the man the way you do. it’s not that you like him, not like it’s a crush, it’s just feelings of warmth and comfort and happiness that come out of being with him. it’s easy to mistake those feelings for romantic ones sometimes.

“he’s a good friend, i think. wooyoung is,” you clarify. the defense is weak, it has holes all over the place, and you know hongjoong can see right through it all because you and him are simply too similar.

“he’s a hopeless flirt, isn’t he?” hongjoong asks, but it’s not a question he’s genuinely asking to hear your reply. closer to a rhetorical question, you think. “he’s not a player. he doesn’t like fucking around with people’s feeling for the sake of doing so. he’s… a good person, even if insufferable and annoying at times.”

“it almost sounds like you’re trying to sell him to me.”

“just want you to know what you’re getting yourself into, if that is indeed something you’re after.”

maybe you should have asked hongjoong the same thing about san before getting yourself into the mess you’re currently in, but hindsight probably wouldn’t help you much either. you imagine you’d still make the same bad decisions, perhaps knowing they were bad a little sooner than before.

wooyoung returns with three drinks in hand and a smile on his lips. hongjoong takes one with a nod then goes to return to his original position on the couch across from where seonghwa sleeps.

“you have an option, y/n. well, technically, you have three. all sweet options! chai latte… vanilla latte… or we can make out on the couch in front of joong until he gets sick of seeing it.”

“um!?” hongjoong exclaims from his spot, face contorted into grimace. seonghwa groans and shifts in his sleep, rolling over onto his side, and the motion distracts hongjoong in less than a second.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding! we all know you’re into that nasty kind of thing, joong.”

“would you at least insult me in a quieter tone, he’s trying to sleep over there!” hongjoong hisses through his teeth. wooyoung giggles under his breath, a sound that makes his whole face light up with joy, and you catch yourself staring a little too long.

“yeah, yeah, i hear you. here, y/n, you can try a sip of each and take whichever one you like more!” wooyoung nudges one of the cups towards your mouth, holding it up to your lips even when you try to take it from his hands. the gesture makes your body hot with embarrassment; the position is almost demeaning in a way that makes you want to retaliate, and although he doesn’t let you fully take the cup, wooyoung smiles when you place a hand around his to take a sip from the cup. he repeats the motion for the other one, eyes trailing over your expression like a hawk surveying its prey. “the first?”

“yeah…”

“thought so. here!”

when you next look over at hongjoong, the man is trying poorly to conceal a smirk.

“let’s sit on the couch, y/n, i didn’t get to look at the pictures you took today.”

“you photobombed one of them, dumbass,” you mutter against the rim of the cup wooyoung gave over to you.

“heh, but i bet you made me look like a cute dumbass in it.”

wooyoung is smiling, hongjoong is humming, seonghwa is sleeping the day away, and you’re finding yourself suddenly very caught and vulnerable, like an animal trapped under a net to be readied for slaughter. yet even though your heart is racing fast enough to put a cheetah to shame because of wooyoung, you aren’t worried that he’s the one who will hurt you. when your phone buzzes in the pocket of your jacket, you don’t need to look at the screen to know who’s texting.

rock bottom doesn’t look like a porcelain bathtub full of blood and water in your eyes. it looks like a man with a mole under his eye and on his lip, rings of gold in his irises, and teeth that are ever so slightly crooked and out of place.

« ♡ »

in the weeks that follow, that cafe becomes like a second home to you, as much as the hotel on the outskirts of town.

the blossoming feelings you have towards wooyoung are hard to wrestle with. it’s the new and exciting feeling of a crush, one that permeates the air around you and leaves you giddy when you so much as think about seeing him again. and yet…

and yet you still end up with your face pressed into the mattress and silk sheets billowing around you as san fucks you night after night, an unending and inescapable cycle you can’t seem to break. those nights are becoming more and more frequent too, something you’re loathe to admit because it’s scary to, and even yunho has stopped asking where you’ve been when you come home the next day more than twice a week. in your defense, you don’t always come home late from the hotel, or stay the night there wrapped up in san’s arms. sometimes you come home from cafe aurora after a similar, yet quite quite different kind of evening that consists of you and wooyoung playing cards or board games or watching shows together ron his far too small phone screen. they’re two sides to the same coin in a lot of ways. you don’t know which side you want it to land on.

the emotional part of you calls san’s name, simply because you’ve done this long enough to become attached even if he isn’t.

the logical side says that wooyoung treats you better without even needed to be in a physical relationship with you, just without the guarantee that he’s attracted to you in any way.

life might be fine and dandy on the outside, but inside this hotel room, you think it’s falling apart around you again. if you’re left to pick up the pieces alone, then you’ll accept that duty for what it is, as long as it means not losing san in the process. he at least seems like the type to not let feelings get in the way of friendships.

right now, though, your throat is burning and dry from overuse, and towards the tail end of a second round with san, your moans weren’t even coming out because of how hoarse your throat became. he’s moving around better than you are; you’re still planted on your back on the mattress, sprawled out and exhausted. you won’t shower yet — there’s still more to come in a few hours so it’d be pointless to clean yourself before san intends to dirty you again.

“make sure you go to the bathroom.” san helps you out of the bed, a hand coming to rest on the lower part of your back as he guides you to the bathroom attached to the hotel room. “i’m gonna brush my teeth.”

he stays in the room with you even when you sit down on the toilet. silence passes between you two. he grabs his toothbrush, squeezing a bit of minty colored paste onto the tip of the brush then running it under the faucet water. it isn’t until he has the brush shoved between his mouth and scrubbing harshly at his teeth that you decide to speak up, and even then, you aren’t why you decide to talk at all.

“what are we doing?”

a heavy question, one that’s coming a little late — both literally in terms of the day and figuratively in terms of how long the two of you have been at this. san blinks over at you through the reflection of the mirror. he shrugs.

“making bad decisions and trying to justify them by saying it’ll get better with time.” san says the words so casually, like it’s nothing and it’s nonchalant in a way that almost makes your skin crawl. he knows what he’s doing and where he stands. he knows what this all means to him, but do you? and even if you knew how you felt, would it be the same as him or different?

then again, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you. san wouldn’t take you to some hotel on the outskirts of town — even if it’s a pricey one with velvet and room service that makes you feel important — if he actually saw this going somewhere. he wouldn’t go out of his way to hide this from mingi or yunho, nor would he tell hongjoong to mind his own business nor would he get pissed at seonghwa for calling out some of his less than savory behaviors. he wouldn’t need to do that if he wanted anything more out of this, right?

you aren’t hurt, at least not as much as you ought to be because “self-love should come first and you need to look after yourself before giving yourself away to others” (perhaps your aunt knew more than she was letting on when she said that one).

“yeah,” you reply instead of the words dying to fall off your tongue. “i suppose we are.”

san spits into the sink and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“are you going to go smoke now?” you already know the answer to that, but at least it provides a little comfort to ask it out loud.

“yeah, i’ll be on the balcony. come out when you’re done in here.” with that, san steps out of the bathroom and leaves you to finish your business alone, and you’re grateful for it, but at the same time, him not being here wrenches your heart in a painful direction. perhaps you’re too weak to stand on your own, even if it’s in a far too fancy hotel bathroom. you rush to finish up and join him outside if only because it keeps you from crying tonight.

you know the next one or two hours will pass as usual: you’ll sit out beside him on one of those fancy velvet chairs that san has pulled out from the bedroom for you two, and at some point you’ll migrate from sitting alone to draping yourself over his lap and resting your head on his chest. he’ll smoke two or three cigarettes at best then settle to simply stare at the night sky with a hand carding through your hair all the while. it’ll be nice and calm and relaxing, nothing like the past two hours you’ve spent with them that resulted in your skin turning various shades of red and purple thanks to his teeth. then you’ll get up and go back to the bedroom, only to repeat the first half of your night with less roughness and more lackadaisical passion.

normally you don’t make conversation with san while out on the balcony with him. it’s nice to sit in his presence in silence and just enjoy.

“i think i like wooyoung,” you say tonight, barely glancing at the man under your body out of fear of a poor reaction. his heart thumps at the same pace under your ear. “romantically.”

“okay,” san mutters back. there’s a rustling like he’s fishing around in his pocket for something. the click of a lighter, then more rustling. you hear the drag of his cigarette, then the telltale scent of smoke hitting the air. it’s his fourth cigarette tonight.

“does that bother you?”

“do you want it to?”

“not really, no…”

“then it doesn’t bother me.”

“are you just saying that to make me feel okay about it?” you can only look at where your hand is resting against his chest with crumbling resolve, and the tears you refused to let fall earlier come back to haunt you.

“no. i can play jealous for you later tonight, if that’s what you’d like.” he’s done that before, except it wasn’t at your prompting — it was his own following the conversation with seonghwa that consisted of seonghwa offering to set up a date for you with one of his nursing school friends.

“i’d rather you not,” you admit as quietly as you can muster.

“cm’here.” you shift against the man as he offers the simple command, one hand falling down to brace on the chair when you push yourself up to look him in the eye. he still looks positively sinful in this light, with a few rays of moonlight falling over him and his button-down black shirt that always seems to lack the top three buttons. elbows out on either side of the armrests, cigarette dangling from his left hand while the right hand slips from your hair to the back of your neck.

he kisses you like that, choi san does, the version of him that you aren’t as accustomed to seeing. it’s the one who is a little broken inside himself, the vulnerable one that doesn’t like peeking through because he’s scared of it being laid bare to the people around him. you know what he’s been through, you know how life has been cruel, it’s nothing new to you by now. but even if he says it’s okay and it’s fine and it doesn’t bother him, his lips say otherwise. he kisses you with bruising force, and the taste of toothpaste on his tongue has almost been completely drowned out by the smoke. if the first time you kissed him gave you a piercing headache, this time does nothing but stab the knife deeper into your heart.

it’s not okay, but that’s okay.

you imagine he’s trying to convey that thought to you with this kiss.

i’m not yours, and that’s okay.

you wonder if he can feel that thought in return, the one that’s constantly on your mind and at your lips. in your mind, the part that’s still lost in wonder and imagination and stuck to those few art classes you took freshman year that spoke of describing your thoughts as colors and senses, you find yourself a bit curious as to what it would taste like to him. what is would smell like, look like, sound like, feel like. perhaps a bit selfishly, you wonder what you are to him in all those ways as well.

choi san tastes of mint and ash, a taste that always leaves the back of your throat itchy. he smells of a gritty smoke that makes your nostrils sting and burn. he looks like a predator, a feline one for sure with the way his lips upturn in a smirk and how he narrows his eyes at you when he craves you in the most debase ways. his sound would have to be something between the low huffs he exhales by your ears when you’re in bed with him, fucking until sunrise, or the little hum of laughter he releases when he finds something amusing. his feel is that of velvet and satin, the softest silk at your fingertips upon first touch, but there’s a bed of nails underneath that simply refuses to lay comfortably against him. you aren’t sure you’ll ever learn how to balance on those pinpricks, or if it’s really what you’re meant to do.

you aren’t his, and he has made that abundantly clear, even if some part of his being craves to have you like that as well. he won’t take it. he’s too busy floating down the river at a lazy pace, claiming to simply enjoy the process when it’s really a matter of unwillingness to move forward. there’s a strong temptation in your bones to stay put with him.

“do you want me to stay tonight?” you ask against his lips, taking the taste on your tongue and swallowing it down like it’s bad medicine.

“want you to stay every night,” san murmurs back just before sinking his teeth into your lower lip.

but you don’t want me to stay during the day so what’s the point?

san’s lips move down the column of your neck with a certain urgency that’s peculiar from him. you don’t know him to be rushed in anything, even when fucking the life out of you. the pain in your chest resurfaces and brings something ugly with it — a feeling of inadequacy, of not being enough, not having enough to make him want you to stay all the time. he clearly wants you so why won’t he just admit it? your hands tremble against the collar of his shirt as you cling to it, holding fast for some semblance of security that will never really come in a relationship with choi san.

you don’t want the man who kisses you in silk and velvet backdrops, smoke still curling off his tongue when he sets it on you, nor do you want to love him.

but you do.

perhaps that’s the true crime in loving him.

« ♡ »

on one hand, you think it’s rather unfair for you to have any sort of romantic feelings for jung wooyoung. being tied up in whatever it is you have with san is arguably a dick move on your part. because while you have feelings for wooyoung, there’s a part of you that clings to san like a piece of velcro refusing to pull away on the first yank. it’s unfair to wooyoung because should anything come out of those feelings you harbor, it would be horrid for you to remain with san the way you are now. it’s unfair to san for you to openly admit feelings for another man when the idea of you seeing someone else upsets him. in turn, it’s unfair of san to be running around like a chicken with its head cut clean off and hiding you away like you’re some secret that your friends can’t and shouldn’t know about, like being romantically intertwined with you is some sort of crime that can’t be exposed no matter what.

and that’s the greater crime, is it not?

can it even be measured in such a way?

when, if ever, do feelings become a crime against morality? is it fair for you to like wooyoung while in a purely sexual relationship with san?

you like wooyoung, whose feelings remain ambiguous and unknown to your nervous heart, but you also harbor some sort of …thing towards san, who claims to love you and sometimes — only sometimes — his actions match those words, before he turns are ignores you and holds you at arms’ length when you’re around friends.

it’s messy and convoluted and fairly wrong, and you’re certain that’s what yunho would say if he knew about any of it. which is the exact reason why you are sitting down with hongjoong in the front area of café aurora and not yunho. you debated asking seonghwa for advice, someone who is older and wiser than the rest of the group, but he deals with enough between all his schoolwork and clinicals that asking the lonely little art child who works “when inspiration strikes like a bolt of lightning from the sky” didn’t seem too far-fetched instead. despite your inhibitions about the obnoxious redhead with the weird red clogs that currently knock against your chair leg every so often, he has grown to be someone you trust with some level of mediocrity.

“so,” he starts after taking a sip of his iced coffee which may or may not have six pumps of syrup in it. “to what to i owe the pleasure today?”

wooyoung is in the back of the café, working on some breads and pastries while the two of you sit out here next to the window on your own. frankly that’s for the best because you had tried to convince hongjoong to meet you somewhere else but he hit you with a “i’m already here and bought you coffee so you’re coming here and nowhere else”.

“i could use some advice?”

“i gathered that much from the way you’re looking around like an anxious dog.”

if you had it in you, you would lean over and smack him upside the head, but you don’t.

“well… um…” there’s no good way to start this conversation, nor is there a good explanation that will make you sound like even half of a decent person. you don’t know how san would react to you telling hongjoong about your odd relationship-but-not; something tells you that he would be upset and probably ignore you for several days before telling you to meet him at the hotel for another excursion. and that should be a red flag to you, that should turn you away because you know you deserve better than that — hell, your ex treated you leagues better than that, but you aren’t supposed to be thinking about him, the therapist said that if you think about him too much then you’ll never move forward in life and—

“hey, you good?” hongjoong cuts through the train that is rushing towards the cliff and knocks it back on course to safer terrain. “anxious dog turned panic attack real quick there for a second.” well. that’s a much simpler explanation than the one your therapist gives. another question you should be asking yourself is why the fuck are you talking through this with hongjoong instead of your therapist.

“um, you’re been in some relationships before, right?” you ask, picking at the skin around your nail like it will keep you sane.

“several, in fact. look, doll, you’re lovely and all but my type tends to have a dick attached to their nether regions so—”

“not! no, hongjoong, not — i’m not coming onto you!?”

“all i was going to say is that you’re welcome to join us for some fun sometime,” hongjoong counters, and he has the audacity to pout a little when he says the words. and that raises another question of who the fuck is ‘us’ but you aren’t quite ready to open what lies inside that can of worms while you’re going through an existential crisis yourself.

“let’s say… hypothetically, of course—”

“right. hypothetically. the exact thing someone says before explaining a situation that is not at all hypothetical.”

“would you fucking stop?” you hiss through gritted teeth, and despite the harshness of your words, there’s no real heat to your tone, only exasperation. hongjoong motions for you to continue as he takes another sip of his lethal coffee. “let’s say you’ve been having a sort of… fuckbuddy relationship with someone. and you sort of have feelings for them, but they’ve made it clear that they don’t return those feelings or at least don’t care the same amount as you do. and you kind of start having feelings for someone outside that relationship. what do you… how do you handle that? if person one isn’t willing to put in the effort that you are, then wouldn’t it only be logical to go for person two? or… or is it unfair…”

your voice dies in your throat at that word, the same one that keeps floating around and making itself known to you in ways you didn’t think possible.

“oh, now this drama is delicious,” hongjoong utters, a smile curling the corners of his lips upwards as he props an elbow up on his knee and leans closer to you. you debate turning forward on your stool and staring out the window instead. it’s almost humiliating, because hongjoong knows this is real and seriously happening to you, and you know that he knows, and if he thought hard enough about it, you know he’d be able to pick apart exactly who is involved.

and he confirms that with his next statement.

“you smell a bit like smoke these days, you know. didn’t know you started.”

you don’t; not really, but it’s a double-sided comment that you pick up on nonetheless. you have to press your lips together in a thin line to keep them from wobbling and squeeze your eyes shut to ease the burning ache in your chest.

“i didn’t,” you whisper, giving hongjoong all the confirmation he needs to piece the situation together.

“didn’t used to avoid coming to the café for chats either.”

“i didn’t…” you repeat, and if it wasn’t already shattered, your resolve is surely in shambles now.

“then i think you already know what my answer would be.” hongjoong reaches out and places a hand on the back of your shoulder, a small hand against your oversized sweater that feels condescending for half a second before the comfort settles into your bones. “i’m not seonghwa; i won’t lecture you up and down about what you deserve, or what happiness and love ought to look like because frankly — fuck all that. fuck the system that claims there’s a specific name and shape to love.”

that’s such a hongjoong thing for him to say that you can’t help but to huff out a laugh, even though it’s not funny at all. of course the man who shapes his own — well, everything would say that.

“there’s no perfect recipe or formula to what love is supposed to look like or what it means or even how other people perceive it. what does matter… what is important — y/n, at the end of the day, you have to be able to look yourself in the eye and like what you see. not from a purely aesthetic standpoint, i’m not telling you that you have to fucking learn how to love yourself to love someone else because that’s such an outdated and toxic mentality that doesn’t help in the long run. no, i’m saying that if right now looking at yourself with person one makes you hate what you see in the mirror, then you have your answer. if he can’t fucking commit to something he knows he wants, to something he claims to care about and enjoy and love, if he can’t take some damn responsibility for something that is his own doing and his own duty, then you can’t tell me he loves what he sees in the mirror. you don’t love the world by walking around with your head down staring at the sidewalk all the time. you love the world by lifting your chin and looking at the trees and flowers and birds, the people around you, the buildings, the clouds, the night sky on a clear night with a full moon. even things as horrid and wretched as thunderstorms and hail have beauty to them if you’re fucking looking at them.”

hongjoong stops himself there, exhaling wildly like he’s run himself dry of breath. it’s a first for you, honestly, seeing him like this. so impassioned and intense, full of a spark that threatens to start a wildfire of emotions. he’s not speaking from arrogance as usual, not making stilted comments meant to crawl under your skin and bury themselves there. he’s speaking as someone who knows this feeling all too well, as someone who fought and struggled and suffered only to lose both the battle and the war in the end.

“y/n, you don’t love someone by only looking at the ground under their feet.” hongjoong turns so sharply that you’re forced to look him in the eye if only because of how much his movements surprise you. his glassy eyes that hold a river of unshed tears in them act as a mirror to your own wide eyes and worried brows. “you have to be able to love them when you look up at the rest of them too.”

“i know that,” you argue, albeit weakly and only as a defense to the sudden rush of stupidity that flows through you. hongjoong shakes his head just as quick.

“if you truly knew that, then why would you be coming to me for advice? come on, y/n, let’s not play around like we’re dumb teenagers who think they know everything about the world. i don’t know why you love — why you think you love him. frankly, none of that’s my business anyway. but to think you get to sit there, look me in the eye and pretend like you know? like i know? y/n, this — all of these people from wooyoung to your aunt to the old couple down the street who give seonghwa flowers every morning and afternoon when he comes home from a late clinical — god, y/n, they don’t know a damn thing about love. we run around chasing things that make us feel good in the moment, so what does that make us? you don’t marry someone because it’ll only feel good after fifty years of a rocky relationship. you marry someone because it feels good now, and you hope with everything you have that it lasts. if you don’t feel good with him now, then why do you still go back for more?”

“b-because i lo—”

“because you love him?” hongjoong scoffs a loud and echoing sound that you’re afraid wooyoung will hear from the back of the shop. that’s a thing you hadn’t ever thought about: loving choi san. you never entertained the thought because it’s not something you wanted to handle or wrestle with or even dream of because of the implications inside it. “do you love him, or do you love the idea of being in love with him?”

oh.

and that’s something you never brought yourself to consider, not even a little because that hits too close to home. you spend your childhood growing up in a household with a desperate father and a bitter mother who eventually walked out because she’d simply had enough. your father loved and loved and loved as endlessly as he could, not because he loved your mother or who she was, but because the mere idea of loving her even after she was gone was too enticing to lose. perhaps you should have learned your lesson then and figured out that love isn’t all that, when you already knew it wasn’t always pretty like the movies made it out to be.

yet, as hongjoong poses that question, it stops you in your tracks for a different reason. you aren’t in love with the idea of being in love with choi san. in fact, you despise the thought of it, it’s something you’ve avoided all this time out of fear and anxiety. you may want to be seen, to be his on the outside and not just inside that velveteen hotel room, but it wasn’t because you liked the idea of it. you want to feel wanted, like any human does at one point in their lives. and you want to be needed by choi san, to a point where he doesn’t have to hide it anymore.

you aren’t sure what label, if any, you could put on your feelings towards wooyoung. it’s still a new and budding crush at this point, not even close to being on the same level as what you think you feel for san. but part of you wonders if the answer to that question lies within what hongjoong just asked you.

“more often than not, we find ourselves taking people for granted,” hongjoong starts up again, his tone much milder than it was just minutes ago. “whether it’s through routine or habit or simply life, we grow used to the presence of others, and at some point, our consciousness replaces the constant worries about them leaving or disappearing with other thoughts. i’m not… telling you to do one thing or another, but i can almost guarantee that if you step away, he’ll chase you. if you step away to be with someone else, he’ll do what he does best. i don’t think i need to tell you what that is.”

you know with absolute certainty that san will withdraw into his protective shell meant to keep him from getting hurt, all the progress you made on opening him up and making a space for yourself in his heart will have been in vain, and he’ll clam up once more. it sends you back to square one, possibly with an even more bitter san to deal with.

“but that — it’s not your job to sacrifice your happiness or future for him. no matter what you think his reaction might be, you can’t let that stop you from doing what’s best for you.”

“what if i don’t know what’s best for me though?” the words sounded more confident in your mind, but when they leave your lips, it’s in a wavering tone that betrays the sudden wave of emotions coursing through you. hongjoong jerks to look over at you, hand already outstretched to drop atop your knee. “what if i choose to walk away and realize it’s the wrong decision?”

“there’s no real answer to that.”

your phone buzzes against the wooden counter under your elbows, and both you and hongjoong blink down at the flashing screen when a text comes through.

san: come to the hotel.

the shame that burns through your body is white hot, scalding you from head to toe, and you can’t imagine looking hongjoong in the eye after this because that one text shows how fucking weak you are for this one man.

“i already lost everything once before, hongjoong,” you say instead of acknowledging the text. “i don’t think i can’t handle losing it all again.”

“and i hope for your sake that you don’t have to.” he pauses to drag his index finger along the rim of his coffee lid. his nail is painted blue today, a blue that looks starkly similar to his roommate’s new shade of hair. “you don’t always lose everything though. it hurts for a bit, yeah, and it feels impossible, but you don’t lose everything.”

your phone buzzes a second, then a third time.

san: or i can come get u?

san: oh bring ur camera too, the cherry blossoms down the hill are starting to bud

you don’t lose everything, but losing choi san sure feels a lot like losing everything, or so your mind believes. even if his love is like a toic air that pulls the oxygen out of your lungs while you’re still struggling to breathe, it’s where you’ve placed all your bets and the fragile heart that’s still mending from the previous pains it suffered.

hongjoong isn’t looking at you anymore, nor are you looking at him. you both opt to stare out the window in front of you without saying or doing anything significant for what must feel like hours even though it’s only a handful of minutes.

“i know from firsthand experience that trying to force certain feelings onto a person can ruin you,” hongjoong says after a bit. he rubs the painted nail on his index finger with his thumb. you think you’re starting to piece it together better now. “i know you’re thinking about what might happen if you stay here with wooyoung instead of going to see him.”

“i don’t need to think about what might happen.” not when i already know.

“you won’t lose person two if you choose person one.” hongjoong’s tone comes out a bit hesitant, somewhat prompting in the way he leans into the words, and you take it for what it is.

“but i lose person one if i choose person two over him.” the sky looks a bit sad today, full of swollen grey clouds and few rays of sunlight. taking pictures outdoors will be a bit difficult like this. but last time the two of you went out to take photos before it rained, it resulted in san huddling you against an oak tree to shelter you and the camera from the rain as you laughed into each other’s ears before exchanging wet kisses under the leaves. it was the first time he didn’t taste of smoke and mint. you remember it fondly because he tasted a bit like the pumpkin pancakes you shared in this very café before going, and that was enough for you.

hongjoong drops the hand he’s pestering to place it back on your shoulder. you subconsciously lean into the touch even though it’s not something you would usually do.

“back then, i didn’t choose person one or person two, y/n.” his voice rings like a melody in your ears. “i didn’t lose either of them then because i was too afraid to lose even one of them. and now i think that’s one of my biggest regrets. i didn’t lose them, but i didn’t get what i wanted either.”

you want to respond, you even open your mouth to do so, but then the door to the café is swinging open and a tall man in pale blue scrubs with navy blue hair steps through. he holds a bouquet of flowers in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“figured i’d find you here.” seonghwa beams in your direction, but that show-stopping smile isn’t meant for you in the slightest. you aren’t fool enough to believe that it is. it’s half past six in the afternoon though.

“did you get out early?” hongjoong asks for both of you.

“yeah, they sent me home because there was nothing left to do and the storm was about to hit.”

hongjoong didn’t lose either one, but he didn’t gain one either. now you understand exactly what that means as you see the way he and seonghwa exchange soft, lopsided grins.

“always a pleasure, y/n,” hongjoong sighs as he pulls himself to his feet. his hand goes to grab that damned coffee, and you realize that he’s barely even had an eighth of the tall cup. it makes much more sense why in the following seconds. he passes the drink over to seonghwa, taking the flowers and the umbrella from the man as he does, and seonghwa simply takes the straw between his lips and drinks. his nose wrinkles at the taste. “five pumps instead of six this time. working you down.”

“hm, it’s not bad.”

hongjoong’s smile only stretches one side of his face, but the joy in his eyes is unmatched.

“we’re getting there.”

“suppose we are,” seonghwa hums back at him, matching the smile and grinning with his eyes more than his mouth.

you can’t shake the feeling that you’re witnessing something you have no business seeing.

“have a good day, y/n!” seonghwa calls out to you as he and hongjoong move for the door.

“call me if you need anything else!” hongjoong echoes, waving over his shoulder. you watch the pair step outside then shift your gaze to the display window to watch them pass in front of you. it’s not raining yet, but hongjoong has the umbrella up and over seonghwa’s head, and they’re laughing in unison about something only the two of them know.

love, in your eyes, looks like two people under an umbrella laughing in unison because they just get everything about each other even if blissfully unaware and ignoring the obvious.

« ♡ »

when you watch movies — the ones that reach their climax on a rainy night with the main leads hanging each other out to dry and yelling in each other’s faces — you always put yourself in their shoes for a few moments. wonder what you would be like in that situation, how you would handle it, what you would say. after your breakup with yeonjun, who was the first real and serious partner you had, you decided those movies were simply a fantasy for sad people to feel okay. the couple always ends up back together after hurling hurtful and toxic words at each other. you know it’s a romanticized way of depicting love and how it works, but as you follow san up to your usual hotel room tonight, you can’t help but feel as though you are going up to sign your fate away like those movies.

if you’re being honest with yourself (which is rare) it didn’t take much thought for you to make this decision. hongjoong was right in a lot of ways. you shockingly aren’t too proud to admit that.

the hard part is leaving san in the dark like this. your initial plan was to bring it up the second you got in his car, but there’s rain, and it was loud on the windshield so you used that as an excuse to postpone the conversation until later. then you told yourself you would bring it up before he got a chance to kiss you and before he tried to initiate any sort of sexual activities.

that, as well, went out the window in the blink of an eye.

frankly you know you aren’t being as responsive or engaged as usual, you aren’t as loud with your moans as he touches you, and your mind is clearly elsewhere. san’s answer to those issues is simply to fuck you harder like he’s trying to knock the thoughts clear out of your head. it doesn’t work, of course. you give him points for trying though — it would have made this all so much easier.

as usual, you go out onto the balcony with san after round two, sitting out on the covered balcony and listening to the rain fall around you. perhaps you should have studied poetry and literature in college because you’d almost say that the sky is crying for you tonight.

“san.”

“hm?” his cigarette dangles at the corner of his mouth. the smoke spins little webs up to the ceiling, and they’re mesmerizing in the way that a pendulum swinging back and forth is.

“can we talk?”

“you’re talking now.”

you’ve said all of four words and you already want to sob, but the grave has been dug. you might as well bury yourself in it.

“i love you.”

san goes so still that you think you’ve put him into shock or he’s straight up died on the spot. then, he takes a prolonged drag from his cigarette.

“no, you don’t.”

yeah. you’re right. on any other night, you would offer that in response because it’s an easy out and makes san happy enough to not take a fourth cigarette from his pack.

“i do.”

“you like wooyoung.”

“and i love you.”

san pulls his hand down with cigarette balancing between his index and middle fingers. his sharp gaze searches yours, and tonight you muster the courage to stare directly back at him.

“kinda sick, isn’t it? loving me while liking another man?”

“don’t start with that.”

“with what, y/n? you’re the one who started this.”

“that’s a close-minded and ancient view of love.”

“okay. i believe you.” you swallow hard at the lump in your throat. san blinks once, twice, three times, then says, “i’m sorry for saying that. there’s nothing wrong with it or you. you can like whoever you want to like, i told you that already. i didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

“but you don’t love me.” it’s a statement rather than a question because honestly and truly you already know the answer.

“should i?”

those two words hit you so squarely in the chest that you nearly bend in half, and the tears spill forth with little restraint as soon as your poor brain processes them.

“what? you get to fuck me as much as you want but me asking for an ounce of love from you is too far?”

“you’re the one who got attached, y/n. that’s not my fault.”

“you led me on!” you protest, crying out a little louder so your voice carries over the rain.

“i never claimed to love you.” this san is cruel as he always is, and you wish more than anything else that the version of him you see in only fragmented glimpses would come out now instead.

“right so asking me to stay the night is nothing?”

“didn’t feel like driving.”

“taking me out for breakfast at wooyoung’s cafe in the mornings?”

“you said you liked the guy, i was giving you an opportunity to see him.”

“when you kissed me in the park?”

san doesn’t have an immediate excuse for that one, and you know you’ve caught him with it. you know he’s lying, you know there’s more to it than that. none of his explanations add up and none of them make enough sense to be fully sound. had you asked, san would have driven you home in a heartbeat to get you home to your family. he took you out for breakfast well before you told him about your feelings towards wooyoung, and not even always at cafe aurora either. you know he kissed you in the park for a reason, and you know it had nothing to do with this arrangement you have with him.

“let’s go inside,” san insists, dragging his cigarette up the length of his thigh.

“and now you won’t answer me?”

“what’s there to say, y/n? do you want to hear that i love you? i can lie like that all night while i fuck you, if that’s what you want.” he can’t pick up the shovel fast enough and finish scooping the dirt over your head, and you’re just sitting there in your own grave like it’s a new home.

“i wish you would stop lying to me,” you spit back. you bring your hands up to wipe at the tears streaming down your cheeks like it will do any good; they just keep coming and coming like the rain from the sky. san at least has the heart to look a little broken at the sight of your wobbling lip and pained expression. “i wish you wouldn’t lie to me, i wish you wouldn’t lie to yourself. i don’t want you to hide me. i don’t want you to act like i’m some secret to keep from our friends. i wish you would fucking be honest with me, with them, with yourself — i don’t know, san. i’m at my breaking point because of you.”

“well, i didn’t fucking ask you to stay! if you were hurting that badly, why didn’t you say something? why did you wait all this time to speak up? i wouldn’t have kept asking you to come if i knew you were hurting!” for the first time ever, san raises his voice at you in a way that scares you. it slips through then.

the san you spoke to about his family’s death and the accident that took them, the one who feeds you bites of his food in the mornings, the one who wakes you up with kisses pressed to the crown of your head. the not so gentle facade he bears to protect himself is falling to pieces before your eyes, and you have no intentions to pick up the pieces for him.

“you never stopped to ask if what you were doing was okay!”

“you should have fucking told me it wasn’t okay, y/n. why didn’t you say something?” his face contorts into something you hate looking at: a grimace, a forced smile, then a laugh of disbelief before he grabs his hair with both hands and yanks hard at the strands. the sob that tears through his lips is closer to a yell than anything. “why would you think i ever wanted to hurt you?”

“because you just sat there and denied loving me like your life depended on it! you’re only going to claim to care about me when i tell you that you’ve hurt me?”

“i’m fucking terrified, y/n, what do you want from me? i want to love you, i know i can love you, but i’m no match for anyone else out there! i can only have you here, i can only have you now — out there? why wouldn’t i want you to like wooyoung? he’s fucking perfect for you! what do we have in common except for shitty broken pasts? if i love you, then what do you get in return? i can’t give you what you deserve to have.”

“can’t i just fucking want you to love me simply because it’s you?”

“god fucking dammit, y/n!” of all ways for this night to go, this is last on the list of reactions you expected out of him. you would almost rather have him take you to bed and finish off your usual rounds of sex. san takes a deep breath, falling silent for several long seconds until he seems calm enough to speak again. “let’s go. i’m taking you home.”

“so you’re just gonna go dump me at home? that’s your solution to this issue?”

“yeah, well, maybe it’ll fucking show you that you shouldn’t love me!”

“oh, you’re such a victim, aren’t you!?”

“y/n… can we — can we please just go get in the car so i can make sure you get home safely?”

“no,” you say, but your voice comes out more broken than confident. “take me to the cafe.”

“it’s half past midnight.”

“he fucking lives there, san, it’ll be open.”

for all it’s worth, san doesn’t put up a fight at that. everything else, except for that. there’s a cruel irony to it that twists your heart further in the wrong direction.

the drive over to cafe aurora is the worst twenty-five minutes of your life, you think. the silence is enough to suffocate you, but the image of san’s knuckles bleeding white as he clutches the steering wheel makes you feel far worse than you already do. the lights inside aren’t on when you arrive, although that doesn’t stop your determination. you’re already dialing wooyoung’s number before you even unbuckle.

he answers on the fourth ring, voice groggy and tired like you’ve just woken him up from sleep.

“hello? y/n?”

“can you please let me into the cafe?” san doesn’t try to stop you when you reach for the door handle, nor does he even look in your direction when you climb out of the car and into the rain. when the door slams behind you, he stays put.

“are you outside? hold on, isn’t it raining? y/n, is everything alright? it’s almost one in the morning, why are you out right now? hold on, hold on, i’m coming downstairs, give me two seconds. don’t hang up yet, okay? wait for me to get you inside.”

san still won’t move from the spot where he’s parked on the side of the road, but he won’t look over at where you’re standing under the awning outside wooyoung’s door. the lights flicker on and illuminate the sidewalk. you wait five seconds before the door swings open to reveal a haggard wooyoung still in his pajamas and without shoes on. he glances from you to the car at the edge of the sidewalk. if he realizes who is in it, he makes no comment, simply shoving his phone into his waistband and tugging you inside without a word.

“god, you’re soaked. i’ll start a fire up, okay? just give me a few minutes. i’ll make you something warm to drink too and get you a change of dry clothes, wait here.”

wooyoung doesn’t ask, but he doesn’t really need to. the reality is clear enough: you’ve had a shitty night that turned even more sour. you almost prefer that he doesn’t ask about it.

it’s easy to let wooyoung take care of you tonight while you’re nursing the heart you knew would be broken by choi san one day. he provides a set of warm clothes from his closet for you, turning back to nurse the fire as you change behind him. he turns the lights down once the fire is burning bright enough and seats you on the couch closest to it. he gives your hands a tight squeeze before going off to the counter to whip something up for you to drink, and when he returns, he brings mugs of hot chocolate for both of you to sip on while you watch the fire.

wooyoung only speaks when you’re sipping at the drink, hand reaching up to smooth down your wet and mussed hair.

“you wanna talk about it?”

“san and i had a fight.” wooyoung presses his lips into a thin line but says nothing more. his hand lingers in your hair, working out the small knots as best he can without hurting you. “i’m sorry.”

“for what? i’m glad you came to me. who else would have taken care of you?” he hums to himself with a little smile twisting the corners of his lips.

“i should’ve just gone home. yunho would’ve made sure—”

“no. you should’ve came here, and you did, so it’s okay. i’m glad you did, y/n. i’m glad you’re here, and i’m glad i can take care of you, okay?”

“okay,” you whisper back. his hand reaches down to squeeze yours once more. two seconds later, he pulls the same hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

“do you want to try to get some sleep? i’ll make sure the fire keeps going.”

where your voice fails you, you offer a nod that speaks for itself. wooyoung helps you resituate, taking your mug from your hands and setting it on the coffee table. he snatches up a few pillows from the corner, setting one under your head, then another under your knees. he disappears for a bit with the promise to be right back, and you choose to stare at the ceiling in his absence. some time passes, but you don’t have the energy to count the seconds.

he returns with two blankets and sets them out for you over your legs and torso. the smile on his lips is as gentle as ever when he tucks one of them under your chin.

“get some rest, okay? i’ll be here the whole time if you need me.”

his soft tone combined with the warmth of the fire and comfort of the blankets and pillows bring you into an easy sleep.

it’s a relatively peaceful sleep as well, that is up until some noise stirs you from your rest. you don’t feel like you’ve rested nearly enough for it to be morning, and the darkness still hanging about the room confirms that thought for you. the fire still burns behind you, but the weight of the blankets on your body feels heavier than before.

you blink down at your stomach, expecting to find wooyoung resting against your body there, but the head of hair atop the blanket is a solid shade of jet black.

he’s soaked to the skin with rain, far more than when you left him hours ago, and you don’t want to think about where he’s been or what he’s been up to in those few hours apart. your hand moves on its own to reach for his hair and comb through the wet strands in a similar manner to how wooyoung did it to you earlier.

a voice disturbs the peaceful silence hanging around you. you know it to be wooyoung.

“if you could start over, would you?”

the ceiling seems to stretch on forever. you’ve always noted that when sprawled out on these couches. it goes up and up, an endless illusion that swirls and moves when you stare for too long. san’s head is heavy on your abdomen, his hands warm on your waist, and his tears and rain-soaked hair wet against your skin.

“yes.”

four minutes past five o’clock, you step into a new life.

...

a/n: congrats on making it to the end of this monstrosity of a fic! i can’t believe i finally finished it nor can i believe i finished it relatively on time sgjoiajgoid please please please let me know what you think, leave a reblog or a comment or send me an ask about it! there’s a lot to this fic and it’s HEAVY but it’s special to me in ways i didn’t expect for it to be. also it’s unedited rn so pls be gentle <3

taglist: @astrojoong @popisdead @uhmingi @toothlessshiber @perfectlysane24 @choozari @imababywolf @vanishingboots

#kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez angst #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #san x reader #san angst #wooyoung angst #ateez oneshot #ateez fic #erm #idek how to tag this #it's not heavy on the fluff #ateez fluff #wooyoung fluff #san fluff #girl.... i lost the plot somewhere between word 5 and 25k

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hopelesshawks · 3 years

Note

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

#hopeless.thirst #hopeless.dark #mr compress #mr compress smut #bnha mr compress #mr compress x reader #atsuhiro sako #atsuhiro sako x fem!reader #mr compress x fem!reader #atsuhiro sako x reader #pregnancy tw #vomit tw #baby trapping tw #hhrequests

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justreadingfics · 3 years

Text

It’s a Deal (Ch. 15-Final)

Chapter Summary: THE END.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 6.2k

Warnings: I don’t wanna spoil anything, but if you’ve read the story so far and handled well with everything, there’s nothing to be worried about. If there’s anything you definetely can read and want to check if you’re safe, feel free to ask me about it beforehand.

A/N 1: Thank you Suz, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer for having my back for these last chapters. Love you. The link to my masterlist, where you can find the other chapters, is on my description. Feedback is highly appreciated. More notes at the end of the chapter.

It’s a funny feeling to have to knock on the door which you’ve spent so long mindlessly walking right through after opening it with your own key. Yeah, it’s funny… but also a surprisingly liberating and exciting sensation. It’s just like a feeling of meeting someone new living inside you. Or someone you just didn’t know was already there, waiting for you to acknowledge them. But a great deal of what you were and had just feels foreign to you now. Like that door to your place, except this isn’t your place anymore, so you knock on the wood softly and wait to be allowed to come in.

You don’t have to wait long as you’ve barely knocked and the door is opened, with Eddie appearing in front of you.

“Hi, you’re back,” he lets out a breathy smile, a tad of nervousness on his voice.

“Hi…” you tighten your lips, not knowing how to react to the excited “you’re back” that has just blurted out of his lips. You want things with Eddie to go as smoothly as possible and you definitely don’t want another argument. Not now when you’re so eager to just do what you have to do there and then go find Bucky, “Ahm…I’ve just come back from the mission and checked in to a hotel, I need to grab some of my stuff. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh…” disappointment hardens his face as his chin lifts up, “Alright. Come in,” he nods, stepping aside.

With tentative moves, you enter your former home before Eddie shuts the door behind him, “Ahm…Can you believe I forgot my phone?” You chuckle lightly, nodding at the device on the center table in the living room, “I had to use the company’s one the entire time.” You comment, reaching over for your phone and attaching it to the Stark mobile battery charger.

As Eddie leans back against the door, you ignore the intensive and unsettling stare he holds on you while your phone’s screen lights up. You rush to check your missed calls and your heart skips a beat when you find out several of them from Bucky. Did you really have to be so stupid about forgetting your phone there?

Your eyes lift from your phone to Eddie for a moment while a thought crosses your mind… Did he see those calls? Could he have answered one of them? No… Eddie and you might not be on the best of terms right now, but you know his character, he wouldn’t…

“Your boy toy wouldn’t stop calling,” he says, his voice as bitter as his words, “Until he decided to drop by.”

“What?” You barely whisper as your heart rushes in your chest. “Bucky?”

Eddie scoffs, uncrossing his arms and leaning away from the door, “Yeah… Bucky…Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes,” he says the name you have in your contacts for Bucky in a mocking tone, “Do you have another boy toy by any chance? Dear God, Y/N…”

You register the vicious mockery coming from him, but you don’t even care while your eyes roam around the room, spotting all of the boxes with Eddie’s stuff next to your stuff, “What did he want?” You ask, your breathing becoming erratic at the possible outcomes from that encounter.

“The fuck I know.” He shrugs, walking over you, “He didn’t stay long.”

“What did you tell him, Eddie?” Your head tilts while you ask in an almost defeated tone, fingers gripping your phone hard.

His face hardens even more now that he’s right in front of you, “I told him the truth, that this is our home.” He gestures around before lunging at you and grabbing your arm, pulling you close to him, “And that what you and I have isn’t just a shitty deal with a boy toy that can be destroyed by a small and unimportant glitch.” He spits.

Your vision turns into a blur while a thick lump of pure anger lodges in your throat. You harshly pull your arm and, expressing a strength you didn’t even know you had, you push him, making him trip backwards, “Fuck you, Eddie.” You push him again, this time even stronger, making his ass fall to the ground, staring up at you with big and incredulous eyes that makes you anger even bigger, “Fuck you, I thought we could’ve salvage something of our relationship, become respectful with each other at least, for our history’s sake,” you scoff pointing down at him, ”But I see now there’s just no fucking point.” You shake your head while your teeth clench.

As you move to step past him, he swiftly stands up and grabs your elbow again. “Y/n, please… don’t go. We can talk-”

“Fuck off, Eddie.” You shake your arm away, untangling it from his hold once and for all, “I have no time to waste talking to you.” You hurriedly move towards the way out, but before you leave the place, you turn back to him, “And just so you know, he’s not my boy toy, or a shitty deal, he’s the fucking love of my life.” You state, slamming the door on your way out.

~~~

“Goddammit, Bucky, is it too much to ask for you to wait for us, you’re being too careless,” Steve chastises through the comms.

“I told you… we should’ve brought Sam.” Nat’s voice comes to his ears.

“Fuck off, Romanoff. And you, too, Punk. You’re the last person who can say anything about being careless on missions.” Bucky hisses, being way ahead of his partners in exploring the alleged facility they are supposed to turn down from some assholes, A.I.M is what they called themselves. The third facility from that mission. Gun machine pointed ahead, he kicked open another door, finding nothing in the room again, “Besides, this place is dead, that was probably a false lead.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Nat, the receiver of the lead, scoffs, “And you would know that if you had stayed for briefing before jumping out of the quinjet in your bike, like fucking Mad Max.”

“Bucky!”

The loud voice on his ears, not Nat’s voice and definitely not Steve’s, makes him halt at once before he can kick open the next door.

“Y/N?” He frowns, not trusting his ears.

“Oh, shit.” Now, that’s definitely Steve and Nat talking in unison.

“Bucky, thank God. Finally. I need to talk to you.”

Bucky notices the relief but also the urgency in your voice. It doesn’t help him at all to figure out what the hell it’s happening, but he registers his heart racing by listening to your voice.

“Y/N?” He repeats himself, “What the hell? Where are you? Are you ok?” The thought that maybe some way you ended up as a hostage in that mission brings a lump to his stomach and his heart beats even faster.

“Yes, I’m mean, no… not really,” you speak quickly, “I’m safe, but I need to talk to you. I’m heading to the safe house designated for this mission right now. I’m gonna wait for you there.”

“What?” Bucky’s mind races trying to understand what the hell it’s happening. “I can’t… I-I have nothing to talk to you about.” He steadies his voice when he feels it faltering.

He hears a scoff that he knows it’s Nat’s, but he says nothing, ignoring the nosey fuckers.

“Bucky… please,” you plead, the desperation present in your tone, “You have no idea how many codes I had to break find you and to get here.”

Fuck…

“You’re having a hard on right now, aren’t you?” Nat asks, breaking through the silence with amusement on her voice.

“He always had a weakness for the smart ones.” Steve comments. Whispering. Like that would help the jerk to remain unnoticed.

“You two stay fucking quiet over there,” Bucky chastises – even though neither of them were lying - while he listens to you clearing your throat, “What do you need to talk about?” He addresses you again, a bit too harshly, already regretting that reaction, but allowing the little bit of spite inside his heart to lead him on, “Is your fiancé there with you?” He clenches his teeth, “Y/N listen, I don’t want explanations, or pity-“

“Fiancé?” You practically screech into his ears, “Pity? Hell, no. It’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all. Eddie lied to you. That’s why I’m here, we need… we need to talk. There’s so much I need to say to you.”

“Like what?” Bucky whispers, heart jumping inside his chest. The fucker lied to him? Does that mean…

“Like I love you.” You burst out, punching the air out of his lungs, “Like I fucking fell in love with you and now you’re thinking I don’t, and I can’t wait another second to tell you everything I’m feeling.”

“What?” He checks, once again in barely a whisper, once again not trusting his ears.

��I love you, ok? I love you, Bucky.” You repeat, trying to speak with a calmer tone, but uneasiness still sweeps into your words.

Silence settles on his comms. No more words from you or from the snooping couple he knows is still there, listening to everything, as well. All he can listen to is his heart, frantically pounding against his chest.

“Meet you at the safe house?” You tentatively ask after a long moment of stillness.

That’s the precise moment the door in front of Bucky opens and he meets with a room full of armed assholes.

“I’ll be there in 15.” He states firmly, pointing his gun ahead.

In precisely seven minutes he has almost the entire room on the floor. He’s about to break the last man standing’s arm when Nat and Steve come running into the room.

“Fucking hell,” Nat exclaims, taking in the place.

“We’ll take it from here, now you go to that goddamn safe house,” Steve says with a teary beam – the big softie - and points to the way out.

Like hell Bucky would waste another second.

~~~

He’s been inside the place for several minutes already, which seems like an eternity, legs quivering while he sits on the first dusted armchair he’s seen, he’s biting on his nails when he hears the knock on the door.

Not two seconds and he has the door opened, meeting with the sight of you. Panting and disheveled and perfect. And he freezes. Not one muscle inside him moves. Except for his stupid mouth.

“You love me,” he says, spontaneously, the words mindlessly coming out of his lips like in a dream.

You’re visibly taken aback at the line as you gasp and your eyes widen a fraction.

Shit… What the hell is wrong with him? He swiftly clears his throat, “Ahm, hi,” he manages to say, praying that somehow, he could erase that first sentence.

“Hi,” you answer, still clearly nervous, fidgeting with your fingers, but not taking your anxious eyes away from him, until you take in a harsh breath, “Yes, yes, I love you,” you burst out, while you suddenly step inside the place, walking past him, “I’ve been so stupid, but I was confused,” you drop your purse on the floor and, gesticulating and shaking your head, continue, “I-I thought I wasn’t sure about you, and then I was afraid I was gonna hurt you, but ended up hurting you anyway. God, I wanna kill Eddie, but no, I’m not here to talk about him,” you pace around, your trembling hands all over the place.

While you keep your rumbling confession, you miss Bucky slowly making his way to you.

“I’m here to talk about us, I mean… if you still feel how you told me you felt, I mean… after what Eddie told you, I don’t know if you still feel the same way, but I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I had work to do, and I forgot my stupid phone, I-”

You sulk in a breath when Bucky is right in front of you. Staring intently into your eyes. You inhale some needed air, slowly, “I love you,” you say again, “I had no idea things would go this way, I didn’t even know that love could feel like this, so…” you search for the word taking another breath, “so damn wonderful. But it does, and I love you, I do. So much. I had a whole speech prepared, but that’s it. I love you.” You shrug.

Still unable to move a muscle or utter a word, Bucky keeps staring at you, like he’s in some sort of trance.

“Ahm…” You gulp, “Don’t you wanna maybe, ahm, say something?” Your voice falters, before you bite your lower lip, as if it’s getting hard for you to breathe.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky finally speaks, and, with the word choice, he can see the smile that threatens to curl your lips, but just don’t get through because you’re still clearly too nervous to allow yourself to smile, “I love hearing you talk.” He steps closer, seriousness all over his voice, “I could listen to you all day, all my life, but right now, I really want to kiss you, ok?”

That smile fully curls your lips now and Bucky smiles, too, but it’s short lived and replaced by a “humpf” as you jump on him and crash your lips on his.

He catches you and the craving you two feel for each other are expressed in the urgency of the kiss. Fingers grasp his locks. While you pull him by the neck, he pulls you by the waist, fireworks on his brain and his guts, pure longing for the proximity of his girl. His love.

Having you like that, kissing you, holding you, knowing how you feel about him is dazzling, mind-blowing, his senses falter and next thing he knows he’s sitting on the armchair with you across his lap.

Smiles surge through the kiss before you part from his lips, only to pepper kisses all over his face… neck… lips again, “I love you, I love you,” you repeat like a mantra between kisses, holding him with a strength he didn’t even know you possessed.

“God… sweetheart… I love you. You have no idea how much. You can never hurt me, don’t ever say that again. I love you,” he breathes, you thinking that you had hurt doesn’t go unnoticed by him, if only you could see how his poor heart is melting inside his chest with all the love he’s feeling and receiving from you.

His breath hitches when your teeth graze his neck, “I missed you…” You whisper, your voice becoming dangerously low while your hand wanders through his thigh, “And I missed this.” Your hand meets his crotch, caressing the bulge forming there, making Bucky’s brain short-circuit, “You’re so gonna love make up sex… I believe I have a lot of making up to do with Little Bucky.” You bite his earlobe, putting a bit of more friction over his bulge.

“Fuck… shit…” Bucky curses, “I want it so damn much, sweetheart, you have no idea how much, but, ahm…” He clears his throat, “Not in front of the baby.”

You lean back and frown at him, “Huh?”

Bucky wiggles his eyebrows and nods behind you.

You follow his gaze and there is Alpine. Seated on the carpet. Staring up at them, in all her confident and glorious demeanor.

“Oh.” You swiftly remove your hands from his pants. Suppressing a laugh in your lips, you turn to Bucky again, “What is Alpine doing here in the safe house from your very Avengey mission?”

“Yeah…” Bucky tickles his tongue before tightening his lips, holding you on his lap by your waist, “You know… she just can’t leave my side anymore. “

“Of course,” you put on a mocking frowning expression, nodding your head, “She is the one who can’t leave your side, yeah…” You chuckle.

He’s got a guilty smile on his lips, but before he can offer you a comeback, a meow catches your attention before Alpine jumps on your lap.

Bucky feels the tension on your body by the surprise as you stare down at the white cat.

“Bucky… Bucky…” you barely whisper, not moving your body in the slightest, while Alpine sniffs your hand before curling down comfortably on your lap.

“Oh my God,” You breathe and aim a disbelieved, yet incredibly satisfied smile at Bucky, still not moving a muscle as if you would break the spell if you did.

“I told her she would love you,” Bucky shrugs, feeling no surprise at all. He removes the arm from around your belly to allow Alpine to accommodate herself better.

“Aww, Bucky,” you coo, looking down and scratching behind Alpine’s ear, whose eyes shut at the petting, “You’re one protective little girl, aren’t you?” You address her, before turning to Bucky again, “I bet she knows I’m sure about you now, and there’s nothing she needs to worry about.”

“Is that so?” Bucky grins.

“That's so.” You nod, leaning over to place a kiss on his cheek, “Although, I gotta be honest…” You say, leaning back, with a smirk, “I thought it would be harder to win you over now.”

“Sweetheart…” Bucky puffs with a scorning expression, shaking his head, “The sooner you learn this the better: I’m a sucker for you.”

Your smile widens and you lean in to kiss him, but something catches your eyes behind his shoulder, “Ahm… is that my perfume?” You frown at the familiar bottle peeking out of his backpack thrown on the floor behind him.

Bucky doesn’t even look behind him, knowing he’s just been caught while you look back at him with amusement growing in your expression.

“Bucky Barnes, did you buy my perfume?” You ask with a gleeful voice.

Well, he better might as well use his armory, too, and, using the same tone of yours, he asks, “Is my name on your phone “Bucky Soft Tongue Barnes?”

You gasp, “How do you…” you start to ask, but doesn’t need to finish as you squint, “Nat…” You say in defeat.

Bucky laughs, while absentmindedly running a hand over Alpine’s back on your lap. “Face it. We’re a couple of creeps, sweetheart.”

You smile sweetly at him, “Yeah… But you’re my creep.” You lean over and peck his lips.

The sound of the door being burst open makes you yelp and almost fall from Bucky’s lap. He catches you steadily, while you hold Alpine protectively.

“Hello, lovebirds.” Nat has a smug smile on her face.

“Jesus, when will this ever stop?” Bucky glares at her, while you try to recover your breath.

“This is getting ridiculous,” you add, not bothered to leave your position on Bucky’s lap.

“Are they decent?” Steve’s voice is heard from the outside.

“Physically, yes. Morally? Never.” Nat answers, her smirk widening while she walks inside.

Steve then comes behind her, with a proud and excited smile on his lips.

“I knew this thing would work out,” Nat says, finger waving between you two.

You and Bucky look at each other and scoff, before you turn to her, “No, you didn’t. You were fucking terrified.”

Like a perfect eight-year-old and not the greatest spy on earth, Nat crosses her arms and, squinting, shows off her tongue at you.

And that’s when Alpine, still in your arms after the scare Nat gave you, hisses at her in her very peculiar and protective way. While Nat raises an eyebrow at her, your jaw drops and you exchange excited looks with Bucky before you smugly pet the cat’s head and tell her what a good girl she is.

Bucky decides, right then and there, having his two girls in his arms, that he’s the happiest bastard on the planet.

~~~

He is the one who knocks on the door while he holds your hand tightly. Bucky looks at you and smiles. When you look and smile back at him, he wonders if his heart would ever stop altogether at that sight, cause it sure feels like it every single time.

“Hey, oh-“ Eddie gulps down his words when he sees you at his door along with Bucky.

He obviously wasn’t expecting Bucky to be there, too, and it brings a smirk to Bucky’s lips, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Can I get my stuff now?” You ask and the sheer disdain in your voice could be enough to make Bucky hard right then and there, but he focuses on the glare on his face at the stupid short asshole in front of him.

Eddie’s gaze lifts from the joined hands before he looks at you and nods, an astonished expression on his face.

The scowl on your expression eases when you look back at Bucky with a smile, “Wait for me?”

“Sure sweetheart, call my name if you need me.” He smiles back before you lean in and peck his lips in front of Eddie.

Oh… his mischievous girl.

Without sparing one glance at the man on the other side of the door, you walk past him towards your former bedroom.

At the very same second Eddie makes a move to go after you, his shoulder is swiftly pushed against the doorframe by a metal hand.

“I know for a fact I can smash your head using only one of these,” Bucky waves his metal fingers in front of Eddie’s face, “That’s the reason why I haven’t laid them on you, yet, cause you know… I’m a good guy and stuff…but I’m willing to forget all about that and do it anyway if you take another step towards her,” Bucky threatens through his clenched teeth, “Am I clear?”

“Y-yes,” Eddie stammers, widen eyes on the metal hand.

“Now you go and sit on that pretty couch… which I know quite well, by the way,” a wicked smirk curls his lips, before the deadly glare shifts Bucky’s face again “And you wait there until we leave.”

When Bucky lets go of Eddie’s shoulder, the guy rushes to the sofa and stays there. Completely quiet and still, avoiding Bucky’s unyielding stare on him.

Minutes after, Bucky catches your packed bags for you and you walk away hand in hand without looking back.

~~~

As he takes quick steps to his place, Bucky can’t believe he’s finally going to see you again. Ever since you two finally set things up, work has been a complete bitch. He’s been called to another emergency mission, from which he has returned this morning, but then has been stuck in a conference room ever since. Fucking Nick Fury…As for you, you also had to work on the reports of your mission with Thor, and not even by phone you two have been able to talk much.

To be honest, it’s been only a couple of days, but now that he knows you love him back, he can’t wait to have you in his arms… and in some other parts of his body that’s been aching for you, too.

Thank God for Tony Stark, who just couldn’t cope with you staying at a hotel and, in a matter of hours, there was an apartment in the Tower waiting for you. Now that he’s only a few floors away, he plans on taking a quick shower and running straight to you.

His pace halts once he’s at his door. He frowns. Something’s out of place. Positioning his flesh hand over the gun on his thigh holster, he slowly turns down the knob of his door.

“Please, don’t shoot me.”

The sweetest of sounds, the sound of your voice makes him let out a relieved sigh right before a smile crosses his lips. He moves his hand away from his gun to open the door fully. The sight he catches when he does, takes his breath away all over again.

The lights are dim, only scented candles illuminate the place while rose petals pave the way from the door. There’s a small round table right there in the adjacent dining room, set with fine dishes and glasses and decorated with a crystal vase and fresh flowers.

Beautiful.

But not as beautiful as you. Standing there in his living room, wearing a short lace black dress with thin shoulder straps and a V-neck that makes his mouth water. You won’t be wearing that much longer, that much he knows as his pants become tighter.

He doesn’t realize for how long he’s been staring at you, until you move your gaze away for a second, biting your lips and scratching the back of your ear, “Hi,” you whisper and Bucky can see your shoulders getting a bit tense, “Welcome to our first date.” You give him a cringing smile and lift your arms, gesturing for him to see around the place, “Hope it’s not too much, though… I did spend a few hours fixing this up, Alpine was a doll and has been here keeping me company until she got bored and went to take a nap, I guess. I did not have time to cook but Tony offered his personal chef services and all we need is to call-”

After a few long steps he shuts your sweet nervous rambling by pressing his lips on yours. He pours all his love into the gesture and hopes he can erase whatever vestige of doubt and insecurity in that pretty mind of yours.

“I was dying to see you, sweetheart,” he says, breathing hard, just as you do, when he parts away, keeping both his hands on your cheeks, while you circle your arms around his waist. “This is… “ He looks around, “Incredible… You… shit… you look fucking sexy.” He groans, giving your body a once over, which makes you chuckle, “I’m only sorry you beat me to plan our first date. I should be the one to make all of this for you,” he says, tenderly brushing his thumbs on your cheeks.

You smile at him and tilt your head to place a kiss on his hand while one of yours starts drifting down his chest, “I’m still in debt with Little Bucky, aren’t I?” You wink at him while your wandering hand cups his cock through his pants, making him suck in a harsh breath, “And from now on I’m going to romance the shit out of you.” Your smile turns into a mischievous smirk.

“Shit,” Bucky breathes. Smiling, he leans over and captures your lips again. Not so gentle this time, since your cheeky words and your touch only makes the fire in him burn even hotter.

His hand drops from your face to your waist and he pulls you to him before he adventures down your ass, grabbing a handful of it through your dress, which makes you whimper through the kiss.

God, he loves the little sounds you produce when he touches you like that and he’s determined to coax a bit more out of you when he dips his hand under the hem of your dress and grabs your ass without the fabric’s barrier. But he’s the one to make a strangle sound to find out you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

“Fuck.” He parts from your lips only to ravish your neck, “Can the food wait a little, sweetheart?”

“Fuck yeah… please.” You pant, still brushing your hand on his aching cock.

He drags his lips to yours again, making the kiss deep and sloppy, savoring the feel of your tongue on his, the sweet taste of your mouth. You hike up your thigh around his waist, and his hand moves from your ass to between your legs. You moan through his lips and he groans to find you wet and ready for him.

His naughty, naughty girl.

“Honey…” He breaks the kiss but keeps his finger drawing little circles on your lips, watching closely while your swollen lips part and your eyes flutter. “I promise I’m gonna take my time and properly savor you throughout this whole night, but right now?” He pants and shoves a finger inside your damp cunt, “I just can’t take any longer, I need to have you. I want you so badly, do you want me, too?” He coos, curling his fingers on the point that always makes you yelp, gaining the aimed reaction from it.

“Fuck…” You curl your arms around his neck and lean over to whisper on his ear, “Always, baby. Always… I want you to rail me.” You grind your hips on his hand, like you’re desperately trying to get off solely from that.

“Dear God, I fucking love you.” Bucky bites the crook of your neck, but removes his finger from your pussy to grab your ass again. When he makes you come for the first time that night is going to be with his cock deep inside you, not his finger.

Breathing hard, you lean back and drop your leg. You quickly start working on his uniform. Not long after, you let out a frustrated groan. “Who the hell makes those?” You frown, fumbling with the complicated stripes.

“No time to deal with that right now,” Bucky states, and with ease, he handles you, ruthlessly, just like the way he knows you love, until he has you seated on the big and fluffy armrest of his couch.

He twists your legs to the side over the cushions, “Let me see that pretty pussy,” Bucky pants, voice thick with desire, lifting your dress just enough to give him the view and the access, “Shit…” he curses under his breath when he catches an eye of your glistening folds.

While he keeps himself on his feet, he works on his belt and zipper with one hand and holds your hips with the other. He absolutely loves the way you’re looking up at him, with that gaze of yours of sheer anticipation, lust and satisfaction he always saw in your eyes, but now, there’s something more. Something else… love. Hell, if that doesn’t make him even harder for you.

“You make me so fucking hard, sweetheart,” Bucky pulls his aching cock away from his confines and without waiting another second, he bends his knees a bit to align with your position and enters you.

“Holy shit,” you both gasp in unison.

At the comforting feeling of your warm and tight cunt - fucking finally - Bucky just holds back and, encouraged by the sweet begs coming from your lips, he supports one of his knees on the cushions, holds your hips still and starts fucking you. Right there, over the armrest of his couch, you both fully clothed, but desperate for each other.

You feel so damn good around his cock, and so damn beautiful with your cheek sunk deep on the sofa, your hands holding yourself on where you can, eyes closed and lips parted, sweet and filthy sounds coming out of you.

Bucky feels his core tighter and tighter and he knows he’s not gonna last long. He’s been waiting for this for so long, so desperately. He loves you so much. He wants you so much.

He tells you that, while he shoves his cock relentlessly inside you and leans down, not resisting to pull one stripe of your dress to expose one of your breasts to him. You cry out when he grabs the soft flesh. His hand moving in the same rhythm of his hips. Hard and deep.

“Holy fuck, baby, I’m gonna come,” you announce and, as soon as you open your eyes and your gaze meets his, your cunt squeezes his cock and you cry out. Not moving your hooded eyes away from his while you soak his cock with your climax.

Bucky is done for. If there had been any doubt of how much he’s a sucker for you, now it would be completely vanished. But, in fact, there hasn’t been any doubt about that in him for a really long time.

Having held himself back for a while now, the look on your face and you calling him “baby” are enough to make his pace become erratic and drive him to his own release. He moans and pants through the explosion of ecstasy, shoving his hips a few more times in you and filling you up with spurs of his pleasure.

You’re still fighting to breathe when Bucky leans over and crashes his mouth on yours, giving you a bruising kiss before sliding out of you and dropping his body on the couch next to you, not without pulling you with him.

He places you on his laps and you straddle his hips. You hold him, sinking your head on his neck, breathing him in. Your body shakes with the aftershocks of the pleasure you have just shared. The best orgasm he’s ever given you, the first one after you acknowledged and shared your feelings. Feels different… better… How you missed this… missed him…

“Enjoying our first date so far?” You ask, the sound of your voice coming out raspy and still breathless.

“Couldn’t be better,” he speaks, his hot breath fanning the skin of your neck.

You hold him even tighter and then giggle when you feel the wet touch of his tongue right there on the sweet spot between your shoulder and neck. You turn with the intention to kiss him and that’s when you realize he’s still in his mission uniform and you feel the fabric of your dress clinging to your skin, sticky with sweat.

You smile at him and brush your lips on his before getting up and, pulling him by the hand, you guide him to his bathroom.

This time he helps you with the strips of his gear and takes off your dress, before you two step into the shower. Nothing sexual happens, but that shared shower it’s one of the most intimate moments of your life. You leather him and he washes your hair. You play splashing water on him, and he kisses you. You hold him and he tells you he loves you.

After the shower you should’ve come back to the dining room and ordered your food, but he takes you to his bed instead.

You get between his legs and suck his cock, slowly, reverently, peppering sweet and small kisses all over it until you swallow his pleasure. He kisses and licks and bites every little inch of you, savoring you like he promised he would. He makes you come with his tongue right before he enters you again. Forehead to forehead, breath to breath, skin to skin.

“I love you” is whispered repeatedly between harsh breaths and long and deep thrusts. His hands and lips on your skin. Your teeth on his. With his cock in your cunt and his finger on your clit he begs to see you come, to squeeze and soak his cock and, after you do, completely out of breath, he reaches his climax, too. Like he always does, he finds pleasure by giving you yours.

Your man. Your love. Your Bucky.

He stays beside you while he kisses you, neither of you willing to break the connection, yet.

When he looks down on you, there’s something of mischief on his loving gaze and on the beautiful smile on his lips, “So…Little Y/N missed me, too, huh?”

Your eyes widen for a second and you choke on your laugh, “No.” You shake your head while he laughs, “Don’t even start. Absolutely not… But goddammit, you’re cute,” you pull him to give him a smooch on his lips and then on his nose, “Now...” you say, while he keeps the adoring gaze down on you, “I love you so much. But can we move forward with our first date and eat something?” You cringe, “I’m starving and it’s all your fault. And Little Bucky’s.” You quickly add.

His head falls back and his nose scrunches in that adorable way of his while he laughs, “Alright, let’s go… but first,” he stops you with his lips on yours when you excitedly try to get up.

The kiss is long and soft and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The hell with food, you’re pretty sure everything you need is right there, on top of you, kissing you and loving you like that, making your heart flutter and turning your legs into jelly.

You almost whine when he breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours, “You know,” he whispers, “I found out that it’s not just my buddy down there who has a strict preference,” he smiles cheekily, and you can’t help but smile, too, before he puts on some playful and exaggerated drama on his voice, “Turns out, my poor old fragile heart has it, too, and I’m gonna need you to take good care of it.” He brings your hand over his chest, “Do we have a deal?”

Your smile grows even bigger, filled with love, before you give him your answer.

“Always.”

THE END.

~~~

A/N 2: There it is, guys, this was my attempt at writing some light and fun rom-com. I really hope some of you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It feels like I say this every time I finish a story, but I had so much fun writing it, this might be my favorite story so far. It’s definitely my favorite Bucky and I can’t part from him. That’s why I have a few oneshots planned so we can get a glimpse of their sexy adventures throughout their relationship, things that might’ve taken place during their deal, but also after what we’ve seen here in the main story.

I can’t thank you enough for the incredible support I’ve received for this story, I feel so fortunate for having such amazing readers, who I consider as a very important part of my life. I tried to engage and interact with most of you, sorry if I ended up missing a few responses. I do read and reread the comments and asks often, though. You make my days brighter. Thank you. Love you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfiction #it's a deal

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doctenwho · 3 years

Text

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.

Both his pride, and his hearts.

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.

It was silly.

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #10 #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

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crescentsteel · 3 years

Text

When in Brazil - Heat

pairing: Hinata x f!reader x Oikawa genre: SMUT wc: 12.1k (I don’t have excuses anymore. Bear with me pls) warnings: threesome, double penetration (all holes involved byee), anal, oral (giving and receiving), degradation, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex, spanking, dumbification, squirting

[a/n]

For maximum experience, you have to read the series chronologically for context.

Can you believe it? This took me more than a month to finalize because the Oikawa-Hinata dynamic is fucking hard to polish.

I'm staying away from writing smut after this (don't quote me on this).

I need to bathe with holy water after this.

Enjoy, I guess?

Here’s the AO3 link in case tumblr is being shit and crashes on you.

MASTERLIST

The day is almost over, yet it feels like the minutes are ticking by too slowly. You just want to go home. You’re in the diner but all you can think about is throwing yourself onto your mattress and sleeping off the weariness brought by the surge of customers on a Friday night. To make things worse, Shoyo is not doing deliveries today so you have to close the diner all on your own.

You release a burdened sigh before you plaster a rehearsed smile on your already exhausted face. When you are able to recollect yourself, you go back to the array of customers waiting to be attended to.

Amongst the seated crowd is an all too familiar tangerine that stood out effortlessly. He’s never been in your diner as a customer, so seeing him as such is a nice change.

He’s with someone and is so engrossed with their lively conversation that he doesn’t notice you at all. Despite that, it’s still nice to see him. You always see him working so hard that it’s comforting to watch him hanging out and having fun with others.

You’re probably staring because his eyes suddenly dart to you.

Of course, Shoyo being the sunshine that he is, he gives you a warm smile and a friendly wave that you take as your signal to come over to their table.

“Fancy seeing you as a customer, Shoyo,” you say just as affectionately as his smile is. “You brought a friend too,” you add as you turn your head to greet his company.

Once your eyes land on his friend, you feel the strain in your facial muscles as you try to maintain the smile you’re wearing.

It’s the fucking tourist!

“Ms. Local!” he yells out with familiarity and delight dancing in his surprised eyes.

“You know each other?” Shoyo asks.

You and the tourist speak at the same time.

“No.” “Yes.”

Shoyo looks back and forth at you and the tourist with apparent confusion.

“He must be mistaken.” Despite the panic that’s starting to rise in your chest, you’re able to maintain a calm facade. “I don’t know him,” you add confidently because it’s the truth. You don’t know him aside from two facts you got from his last time: he’s a volleyball player from Argentina and he’s a hot scum of a tourist.

You give the tourist the most hospitable smile you can muster, hoping that he’s actually decent enough to get the drift.

He looks at you from head to toe before an amused grin forms on his lips. He rests his elbow on the table and lazily places his cheek on his palm. “She’s right, Shorty pie. I was mistaken. I actually don’t know her too,” the tourist says as he regards you meaningfully.

Shorty pie? Did he just address Shoyo as shorty pie? How snotty! Shoyo is not that short.

“Y/n, this is the great king, I mean, Oikawa-san, I mean uhhhh,” Shoyo turns the tourist and says something in Japanese. You try to get cues as to what they’re talking about but the language is incredibly different. You might’ve found it rude but it was Shoyo who did it. You can’t imagine him saying anything bad about you.

The tourist faces you with a wide smile. “You can call me Tooru, Ms. Local,” he introduces himself.

“Her name is Y/n, Oikawa-san,” Shoyo kindly corrects Tooru, not a drop of suspicion present in his tone.

“Right! Y/n it is.” He continues staring at you with a very smug look on his face that makes you want to kick him out of the diner. But even if you were the owner, you can’t do it without letting Shoyo know why.

You distract yourself and turn your full attention to Shoyo. “So, what’re you boys getting?” you ask cordially.

“Let me ask him, y/n. It’s his treat.” Shoyo faces his annoying company. You softly tap your feet on the floor and refuse to get back to Tooru, hoping that it’ll still be Shoyo who’s going to order for the both of them.

“Y/n, hallooo.”

It’s taking everything in you not to roll your eyes and exhibit a grouchy behavior unacceptable towards a customer. Goddamn it, you can’t even sigh to calm yourself down.

You force yourself to face him and let out a high-pitched “Yes?” paired with a feigned smile.

He chuckles uninhibitedly before he answers. “Actually, I don’t know what to order. I just wanted you to look at me,” he admits without any trace of shame.

You try to laugh your irritation away but it comes out awkward and loud that some of the customers near their table turn their eyes at you.

You clear your throat to shake off the embarrassment. “Since you’re undecided, Sir. We’ll get you our three best sellers which will take no more than 20 minutes to prepare. I’ll be back when it’s ready,” you say all at once. You don’t wait for their response as you turn around and hurry back to the kitchen.

You tell the cook their order and excuse yourself to go to the restroom.

As soon as you close the door, you cover your face with both hands and pour a regret-filled squeal onto your palms.

You certainly have been complaining about life being dull and repetitive. But this is too much of a mayhem for you to handle!

Out of all the strangers you could’ve possibly slept with, it had to be someone Shoyo knows. Fuck! What if the tourist, what’s his name again? You were too busy panicking that you didn’t even catch his name when he said it. It was something like Tori? Taurus? Tooru!

Tooru, the scumbag tourist.

His name is not really that important though. What’s more pressing is the possibility that he might tell Shoyo.

You really like your lively and good-natured friend. You don’t want him to think you’re a lady of loose morals for sleeping around.

Loud knocks on the door pull you back to the reality that you need to get back out there. You can’t stay in the restroom room wishing you can turn back time, even though you do. You wish you just stayed home the night you crossed paths with the tourist.

You take a deep breath and step out.

“What took you so long? Orders are piling up in the kitchen,” your fellow waiter reprimands you.

“Sorry,” you apologize before hurrying to the kitchen. You take the cooked meals and get them to their respective tables.

When the tourist and Shoyo’s order comes in, you collect yourself for a quick second prior to heading back to where they are. Despite dreading each step you take towards them, you manage to get there with an amicable smile.

“Here you go,” you announce as you put down their plates.

Even when you try your best to ignore the tourist by focusing all your attention on Shoyo, you can feel his avid stare boring onto your face. You’re just glad he’s not talking at all, so you don’t have a reason to face him.

“Thanks, y/n!” Shoyo says appreciatively which eases your discomfort a bit from having Tooru ogle at you.

“Anytime,” you respond just as kindly and head back to the kitchen. A huge wave of relief hits you when you’re finally away from their table.

Oikawa follows the sight of your back as you leave. What were the chances he would see you again? You gave him nada after your sexy encounter that night, not even a name. So you both parted ways still as strangers. What’s even more amusing is the fact that you’re friends with Shorty.

The world just couldn’t get any smaller - seeing Shoyo out of pure coincidence on the beach. Then finding you here when you didn’t want to be found.

He turns his attention back at his former opponent and finds Shoyo’s gaze at you as well. The glimmer of fondness is blatant on his eyes as they linger on your back.

“Shoyo,” Oikawa calls out.

The short volleyball player instantly flicks his eyes back to Oikawa, oblivious that he was just gawking at you.

“Do you like her?” Oikawa asks, straight to the point.

A faint blush pops out of his tanned cheeks as his eyes go wide, an instant giveaway that Oikawa hit the bull’s eye.

Shoyo breaks into a flustered smile while he rubs the back of his neck from embarrassment. “Yeah. She’s a good friend,” he states, his eyes shining with less than innocent admiration as he looks back at the direction you disappeared in.

Holy shit. Holy Shit. You fucked Shorty too!

Upon the realization, a chuckle escapes his mouth before he can thwart it. No wonder you came up with that spot on guess before. You got the story from someone who did the same.

A small world indeed.

Shoyo is probably the good fuck you were talking about that night. Looking at the former middle blocker, he certainly didn’t think that Shoyo would have enough experience in the bedroom to be considered a “good fuck.”

Interesting.

“Why don’t you invite her to watch us play tomorrow?” he suggests.

Shoyo’s face brightens up with excitement from his suggestion. “Yeah! I think she’ll want to. I told her that I play volleyball and stuff.”

He leans back on his chair as he grins from Shoyo’s response.

“Should be fun, right?” he asks with hidden deviousness.

—

When Shoyo asked you to watch their game, your understanding by ‘their’ is him and another local he regularly plays with. Not him and the freaking tourist!

If you had known, you would have politely declined.

Now, you’re sitting there on the sands of Copacabana with nothing but foreboding as you watch them start the game with two other players.

You know close to nothing about volleyball. You only came out of curiosity because Shoyo talks about it like it’s his life. Maybe it is. He did come all the way from Japan to a foreign country all on his own.

And so did Tooru.

You’re just starting to wonder if he loves the sport just as much Shoyo does, but you don’t wonder for too long. He gives you the answer with the way he plays.

Knowing that you’ll be watching two grown men playing, you expected them to be show-offs impressing the girl they invited to watch. However, they don’t even spare you a glance after they get a point in.

You don’t take offense in it though. Instead, you find yourself growing envious of them. Their personalities are so different but the look of passion and determination is burning similarly not just on their faces, but on their whole being.

Tooru is still a tricky scum in your eyes. But when he’s playing, he looks larger than life and brimming with pride and dignity. His cocky smirk is still there, but it’s more of an affirmation to himself and Shoyo that they’re doing hell of a good teamwork.

Shoyo, on the other hand, is all smiles and easy going everytime you talk to him. He still is inside the sandy court, but he’s intensely focused and totally lost in the game that sometimes, very briefly, he almost seems scary.

It’s so strange. One second they’re totally immersed and serious, then on the next they’re suddenly grinning and laughing even if they didn’t score a point.

You’d think they were teammates before from how they seem to communicate without really saying anything. But if they were then, Shoyo would have undoubtedly told you about him.

When the game ends, the two of them share victorious smiles. Why wouldn’t they? They did snatch the game. They’re so earnest and driven that you can’t help but be in awe, despite the one of them being real shady.

They both head towards your direction, Shoyo almost running towards you while Tooru striding slowly with pride.

Your attention inevitably goes to the orange ball of energy first. “Were you watching, y/n?” he asks while trying to catch his breath. He must’ve been really absorbed in the game that he didn’t notice you arrive earlier.

“You did great, Shoyo!” you sincerely applaud him as the tourist catches up to where you are.

“You too, uhh, Tooru,” you commend him awkwardly. Until now, you’ve only called him ‘tourist,’ so saying his actual name feels weird.

“I didn’t expect you’d let me toss to you, Oikawa-san,” Shoyo says with the thrill of the game still oozing from him.

“Would be a waste if we don’t try something totally new when the opportunity is there,” Tooru responds just as high-spiritedly, but you feel off about how he calls Shoyo.

“Why do you let him call you such names?” you ask Shoyo even when the tourist is right beside him.

Shoyo just laughs it off, obviously not minding the rude nicknames. “It’s actually comforting, y/n. It reminds me of home,” he says with a nostalgic smile that makes you feel bad about his situation. He misses home so much that even rude nicknames are welcome because it brings him closer to it.

“Should I call you ‘Shorty’ too?” you sincerely ask but he only grimaces. Meanwhile, Tooru laughs to his heart’s content.

“Sorry! I thought you’d like it.”

“Not from you, y/n,” Shoyo sulks a little, but buries the misunderstanding immediately. “Anyways, should I walk you home tonight?”

You appreciate the thought. It has been a while since you had the pleasure of his company.

“Yea, please do.”

“Can I come?” the tourist butts in, reminding you that he’s also there.

“Aren’t your teammates waiting for you?” you ask, subtly shooing him away. You saw the two men he was talking to earlier. Judging from the language they spoke, which was undoubtedly Spanish, and their athletic build, you concluded they were his teammates.

“Nope. I asked them to go ahead,” he shrugs and flashes you that too-charming smile he has.

“Oh, why?” you ask amicably to hide your distrust of him.

“It’s my last night here and I thought, why not make friends with a local?”

You don’t buy it, but it would seem strange to Shoyo if you blatantly refuse Tooru. In Shoyo’s eyes, you and Tooru haven’t met before. It would be suspicious for you to be so wary of him when he’s been ‘nice’ when Shoyo’s around.

So you agree. You won’t see him anymore after tonight anyways. A walk home won’t do any harm.

When you reach your place, only then it dawns on you that if you invite Shoyo inside, you’d have to offer the same invitation to the tourist out of common courtesy. You really want to let Shoyo in, but if they come in pairs, you’d rather invite your friend another night.

Your turn around and what awaits you is Shoyo’s hopeful, hazel orbs.

Meu Deus, how can you refuse him when he’s looking at you like that?

You go to the kitchen to grab one glass of water for each of the two men in your living room.

You tell yourself that everything’s all good and harmless when you invited them in. If it was Tooru only, it would’ve been a different story. You wouldn’t have even allowed him to walk you home.

But since Shoyo is there, you feel somewhat safe. The tourist might be douchey but surely he won’t do anything with your tangerine friend around. They won’t stay long anyways, so it should be fine.

You close your fridge when you hear Shoyo’s familiar footsteps.

“Y/n?” He stops briefly on his tracks when you turn to him.

“Yeah?” you respond before he continues making his way to you. “What’s wrong?”

He’s only a step away when his profile reveals a somber expression he’s never shown you before. “Did you really do it with Oikawa-san?”

You feel the rapid increase of your heartbeat from his question. Did Tooru tell him about it while you were in the kitchen? To think that you were starting to believe that the tourist is not as bad as you thought since he’s been amenable the whole night. He proves you wrong before you actually believe that idea.

Now you have no choice but to admit it to Shoyo because you don’t have the heart to lie to him.

“It’s okay, y/n. He told me he tricked you into it,” he tells you with a sad yet understanding look on his face.

“Are you… disappointed at me?” you ask guiltily.

He shakes his head instantly. “No, but...” He averts his eyes downwards, dejection clear and evident on them. “We’re not going to do it anymore, aren’t we?” His tone drops woefully with his assumption.

Oh goodness, he’s so adorable. It’s like one of his favorite things was taken away from him. You would’ve dragged him in your room right now to prove him wrong if it isn’t for your other visitor in the living room.

Instead, you grab his hand and pull him closer to you as you lean back on the counter. You cup his chin to raise his gaze back to you.

“I missed you,” you tell him rather than directly answering his question. You move your hand from his chin to his cheek before you claim his lips. Like an automatic response, he envelops his hands around your waist.

He really is the sun, not only bringing rays of joy to you, but also heats you up all the way to sinful madness.

His hands drop down your behind and gropes them to draw you towards his body, letting you know how excited he’s getting just from kissing and holding you.

You still haven’t had your fill of his lips when he lets go of yours. “Did you feel good with him, y/n?” he asks, centimeters away from your mouth.

You pull back slightly from surprise. “Why are you asking that?” You try to decipher what he’s thinking but you can only see his need for you as you stare at him.

“I want to know how to make you feel better,” he says as an ounce of insecurity bares itself for you to see. You drape your hand from his neck down to his chest, caressing the broadness of it. “You already know how to make me feel good, Shoyo,” you say as you offer him a gentle smile.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he persists.

You sigh when you realize that he’s not going to let this go unless you answer him. “I don’t like him, but yeaa... it felt good,” you look away as soon as you admit it. You don’t know how he’ll react, but you know that wouldn’t be able to take it if he looks at you with disappointment or disgust.

To your surprise, he pulls you close again and rests his cheek against yours. He asks something too softly -- something you wouldn’t hear had he not been standing so close. “Can I watch him do it?”

You flinch away from his hold with eyes wide from the appalling question. “What?!”

Shoyo becomes alarmed at your reaction and completely releases you. “But if you don’t want to, it’s fine!”

He waves hands mid-air, panicking at how aghast you are from what he said. “We just thought it would feel good for you. Ahhhh.” He rubs his face with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m getting way ahead of myself,” he apologizes with a regretful look.

Tooru must have told him prior to tonight. If they talked about you to that extent, the little time they had in your living room wouldn’t have been enough. Shoyo knew even while they were playing and he didn’t treat you differently.

Meanwhile, that tourist was acting all goody-goody because he’d already told your friend that you two fucked. You only become more annoyed when you realize that the idea couldn’t have possibly come from your adored friend.

You squint at Shoyo as you ask him. “He put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Shoyo looks up, genuinely unsure how to answer you. “Uhh. He said I could learn a thing or two from him.”

You laugh dryly from the lack of words that could describe your vexation towards Tooru. The audacity of that fucking tourist! How dare he think that he’s any better than Shoyo. How dare he make Shoyo believe that he’s the lesser sex partner.

“Y/n?” Shoyo must have noticed your silent fury because he looks concerned when he returns his gaze to you.

You give him a too-sweet grin despite the exasperation boiling in your chest. “You know what? He can join, but he’ll be the one watching.”

You drag Shoyo back to the living room, ignoring him as he utters words of disbelief that you’re too mad to understand.

When you meet Tooru’s gaze, he gives you a knowing smile which you return with a resentful one.

“Shoyo, can you go to my bedroom first? We’ll be there soon,” you say while you keep your eyes trained on Tooru.

“Can’t I know what you’re going to talk about?” Shoyo sounds almost sulking, but you don’t deter. You turn to him with a pout of your own.

“I promise we’ll be there soon, mkay?” You stroke his hand which you’re still holding.

Shoyo nods and obediently heads inside your room.

You march to Tooru and yank his collar. Despite being surprised by your action, he looks pleased with your aggressiveness.

“Congratulations, Tourist. You successfully earned yourself a threesome,” you spit out, but he only smiles with satisfaction as you just consented to what he’s probably going for. “Now listen to me and listen well. You will be the one doing the watching. You will remain seated while you watch Shoyo fuck me. You don’t get to join unless I let you. Do whatever you want - jack off, drool, have a seizure, I don’t give a shit. But if you make yourself cum, you don’t get to touch me. Got that?”

He only blinks at your litany of rules, but you trust him to be smart enough to get that in one go. Quickly enough, he lets out a short whistle as he reiterates your rules in just one sentence.

“Basically, no touching and no cumming from me, right?” he states with a pleased grin that makes you want to punch his pretty face.

But you have better plans, so you let him go and join Shoyo in the bedroom. You don’t have to tell Tooru to follow. He stands up on his own and heads for the bedroom a few steps behind you.

When you get in your room, you find Shoyo sitting at the edge of your bed. He looks so worried, looking at his feet while fiddling with his hands. You feel bad that you kind left him out in the dark because you’re too pissed at the tourist’s presumptuousness.

You sit beside Shoyo and grab his hand. He eyes you fretfully, obviously addled at what’s going to happen next. Rather than explaining, you cup his cheek and moor your mouth to his. You straddle him while your other hand clutches his hair. His palms immediately get underneath your shirt, skimming the bare skin of your sides while your lips ravage one another.

Shoyo suddenly pulls back, his confusion now mixed with lust as he looks up at you. “What about Oikawa-san?” he huffs.

“Don’t mind him,” you mutter on his lips as you descend on them once again.

Shoyo doesn’t ask further, discarding his qualms earlier and heeding your instruction like the good guy he is. He rids you of the top you’re wearing, his palm immediately covering the softness of your clad breast while his mouth seeks the weak spot on your neck. When he does find it, you reward him by pressing your groin against his.

You can’t help but laugh a little at how his arousal is already poking beneath his shorts. “You’re already hard, Shoyo.”

He doesn’t respond and proceeds to unclasp your bra that’s preventing him from feeling your bare breasts.

Like he always does, he takes a moment to revel at your half nakedness like it’s the first time he’s seeing you as such. And like every time he does it, he never fails to make you feel like you a marvel to look at.

“So pretty,” he murmurs to himself.

He plants fervid kisses on your chest until his mouth captures a perk bud. The action causes you to grind on his lap, attending to the ache that’s settling in your groin.

You itch to roam your hands on his body and groans with disappointment that it isn’t his skin you’re touching. He hears it and does you a favor by quickly discarding his muscle tee.

“Shoyo,” you whisper with brewing desire as your hands travel from his neck down to his chest.

“Yes?” he asks, completely bewitched even when you’re only half naked.

“I really missed you.”

You feel his erection grow even more while his face shines with adulation from your statement. He grips both cheeks of your ass and takes it upon himself to roll your hips again on his bulge.

“I missed you too, y/n,” he says before resuming what his mouth was doing earlier: devotedly twirling his tongue around one hardened bud while his fingers fiddle with the other. With already several visits from him after work hours, he’s well familiar with how you want to be had.

He demonstrates so by gently tugging your nipples with his teeth and fingers, making you cry out from the slight pang that heightened your craving for more.

You’re reminded that someone else is in the room when your wooden chair creaks audibly for you to hear. Shoyo is doing such a great job of taking you to a scandalous place far away from your mundane room that you almost forget that Tooru is there.

You take one quick look at the pretty guy sitting on your chair. He’s doing as he’s told and is watching intently, particularly at where Shoyo’s mouth is.

As much as you want to totally lose yourself in the sensation of Shoyo’s hands and mouth, you have to show Tooru what he missed on that one night of encounter.

You clutch Shoyo’s hair to pull him away from your body, earning yourself a baffled Shoyo when you get off his lap. You just smile reassuringly at him as you get on your knees. You try to lug his shorts down but fails as he remains seated, totally beguiled at the sight of you kneeling down for him.

You look up to him doe-eyed as you ask him, “Won’t you help me a little here, Shoyo?”

He snaps out of his daze from your question. “Ah! Yes, yes. Sorry.” He does the work for you and hurriedly pulls his shorts and undergarments down.

You squirm on your knees at the sight of his swollen cock. It’s been a while since you did it with him that you find yourself more than eager to have him inside you again; whether in your mouth or somewhere further down, you can’t decide.

Once again, the tourist distracts you when he lets out a whistle. “Damn. Who knew?”

You can’t help but agree with him. When you first saw Shoyo’s size, you were shocked as well. He, however, doesn’t get what Tooru is talking about. He eyes Tooru worriedly as he asks confusedly, “What?”

Tooru doesn’t answer Shoyo and just grins at him, so he turns to you instead. “What’s he talking about, y/n?”

You respond by gripping the base of his cock and taking him slowly in your mouth. You hear him hiss as his hand grabs the back of your head.

“Ahhh. So warm.”

You look at him and find him with lips parted and eyes shut as he relishes the way you gradually swallow his size.

Once your lips reach the hilt of his shaft, you drag your lips back up and release his cock. Instead of sucking it again, you tease him by flicking your tongue on his tip, twirling the hot, moist muscle around it whenever you feel like it.

Shoyo clutches your hair, oblivious to the strength he put behind it as he unknowingly forces you to meet his pleading eyes.

“Suck it again please,” he asks nicely despite his tight grip on your hair.

You smile tenderly at him, tracing the length of his cock with your tongue before engulfing it once again with your mouth. As you descend on him, you lock eyes with Tooru, making sure that he’s watching how devoutly you’re tending to Shoyo’s desires.

Satisfaction kicks in when you notice the undeniable bulge on his shorts as he keeps his eyes on you and Shoyo. This is supposed to be a show for him, but you feel yourself getting wetter from Shoyo’s whines and how Tooru is starting to palm his erection above the fabric of his shorts.

Shoyo takes hold of your attention again when he starts thrusting against your mouth, causing you to whimper on his dick. You squeeze his thighs to signal him to slow down. He stops completely, letting you withdraw away so you can breathe.

He opens his eyes and trails his hand from the back of your head to your cheek. “Sorry, y/n. It’s starting to feel really good,” he explains apologetically.

You offer him a delicate smile right before you descend your mouth on the whole of his cock in one swift motion, the tip of his cock tickling the back of your throat.

“ Ah! ” He throws his head back from the sudden movement.

“Shit,” you hear the man seated across the foot of the bed curse. You turn your eyes on him and witness how he frees his bulge from his shorts. He fists it slowly, matching the bob of your head on Shoyo’s dick. You quicken your pace and his hand mirrors it as well.

You unzip your shorts, unable to help yourself. Without bothering to remove them, you slip your hands in and touch the moistness of your slit. You moan at Shoyo’s cock as you feel the pads of your fingers on your slick arousal.

“Stop touching yourself, y/n. I’ll do it with my mouth later. Make me feel good first.” Uncontained desire is swimming on Shoyo’s orbs as he stares at you while his mouth pants with need.

You pull out your hand and plant it on the side of his thigh as you suck faster, hoping that he’ll cum soon so his tongue can replace what your fingers were doing.

Your pussy is throbbing so hard from how he’s learning so well. He pulled the same card you did the first time you sucked him off and it’s turning you on even more that you have to clench your thighs together just so you can ease your arousal a little bit.

“Let me do it,” you hear Tooru’s breathy suggestion. You’re not surprised that he noticed. After all, watching is all he’s allowed to do.

Shoyo gently pulls your head back as he asks, “Do you want him to?”

With his dick still stuffed in your mouth, you shake your head to answer ‘no.’ You want to alleviate the delicious tension between your legs, but you want Tooru to remain where he’s seated for a while more.

“I can do it well, y/n. I’ll trace my tongue on your cunt the way my fingers did on that beach. Let me taste you. I’ll get you even wetter with my mouth.”

You grip Shoyo’s thighs as you moan on his dick from Tooru’s lewd words. You didn’t want him to touch you yet, but the visceral imagery he provided you is making your lubricious needs unbearable.

You look at Tooru as you tell him with a wavering voice, “Come here.”

“Finally,” he says as he tucks his rigid member back in his shorts and rushes to where you are.

Shoyo helps you stand up and positions your back against the headboard of your bed. Meanwhile, you feel Oikawa’s hands grasp the seams of your shorts.

You’ve already unzipped it earlier so all he needs to do is pull it down, which he easily does as you lift your hips up for him.

“Please don’t forget I’m here, y/n,” Shoyo reminds you with a sullen tone.

Oikawa spreads your legs while you weakly grab Shoyo’s dick. You pump him a few times before taking him again in your mouth. At the same time, Tooru gives your already moist slit a well drawn out lick.

Your groan vibrates on Shoyo’s cock as your thighs involuntarily press together. Strong hands placed on both thighs prevent them from doing so as Tooru swirls his tongue on your throbbing clit.

The delicious strokes of his tongue lapping up your juices are incredibly distracting, making you a drooling mess on Shoyo’s cock. You grip his shaft to regain some control as you start quickening the bob of your head, your fingers hitting your lips as you take him fast and deep.

Tooru distracts you even further when he roughly pushes two fingers in without any warning. “Oh my, would you look at that?” He laughs right between your legs. “My two fingers easily got in,” he says and starts languidly pulling them in and out of you.

You want to say something but Shoyo beats you to it. “Please don’t stop, y/n. I’m about to-uugghh .”

He starts taking shallow breaths while he keeps his hazy eyes on you. “Can I cum in your… in your mouth?” he asks as he starts staggering his hips faster than the bob of your head.

You give him a small nod, trying your very best to continue sucking him even though Tooru’s fingers are sending you to another kind of delirium.

Shoyo’s moans permeate the air as his orgasm erupts in your right in your mouth. “ Ahh, ahhhh, y/n, am cumming ,” he says before his hand goes to the back of your head and shoves his length at your throat, forcing you to swallow the entirety of his load.

“Holy shit,” you hear Tooru say as he stills his fingers inside you.

Shoyo eases his grip on your hair as he releases a satisfied huff. Your jaw feels relief as you remove your mouth off his member.

He takes his seat at the bed as he steadies himself again.

“I didn’t think you’d be one to swallow.” You turn to Tooru and see him no longer situated in front of your crotch.

He stands up and takes off all his clothes without any shame. You stare at his glorious nakedness, acknowledging that the last time’s encounter did not allow you any of the view he’s currently gracing you with.

His face isn’t the only pretty thing about him, it’s everything. And you can tell he knows it with how proud his strides are as he makes his way beside you.

Your dazed eyes follow him as he rests his back on the headboard.

“This is when you sit on my cock, y/n,” he says with that fraudulent smile of his. He’s so damn infuriating, yet, you can’t deny that you want to do exactly as he said. His tongue on your dripping pussy did nothing but fan the flickers of arousal in your stomach, so even if you still despise him, you don’t mind being fucked by him. You already know he’s not going to disappoint anyway.

You climb on top of him with an irritated expression and a soaked cunt that coats the tip of his member. “Please stop talking. Don’t make me hate myself for being horny over you,” you state almost resignedly. Levity spreads across his gorgeous face as a laugh starts to rumble from his throat.

“You’re so funny, y/n! I knew I made the right choice to fuck you that night,” he says with mirthful smile. You ignore him completely, tuning out his fatuousness as you align your entrance to his cock that’s been poking at you.

You anchor yourself with one hand on his shoulder while your other seizes his member for you to descend on.

“Oh no no no~” He grips your hips and stops you. “Why are you in a hurry? We have all night, don’t we?” He asks as he trails his fingers on the sides of your hip, effectively heightening your wanton desire to be stuffed by him.

You shake your head ferociously as you remember how intense he teased you and edged you on the beach. “None of that teasing crap anymore,” you say as an infuriated plea.

“Hmmm, “ he hums as he thinks about your belligerent request. “Kiss me first,” he says in a light tone but you hear the smidge of authority behind it. You gladly oblige as you hurriedly reach for his mouth.

Replicating what he did with his fingers, he fastens his grasp on your hips and rams you down on his cock. Your moan falls on his mouth mixed with his own. He pulls away from your lips, a string of translucent liquid connecting his to yours.

“Ahh, Ms. Local. You look so hot with that lewd expression on your face,” he says, his eyes hazy with his own dark, sinful yet alluring desires. “Since you wanted to be fucked so bad, why don’t you move for us?” he asks before he goes for that exact spot on your neck that makes you weak.

You start grinding against him, taking your time to revel at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your dewy insides. He startles your slow rhythm when you feel the sharp sting of his palm on one ass cheek.

You yelp out from the sudden pang burning on your skin. “Seriously, y/n? That’s really all you got?” he taunts while his hand on the other cheek caresses it, a soft warning that the same slap is about to hit it too.

Fuck. What even gave you the idea that you can take charge of this asshole? You kinda feel stupid now from your naivety and from how he’s making you lose yourself from the painful delight he just inflicted on you.

“Oikawa-san! Why are you hitting her?” Shoyo voices out his concern which makes Tooru’s hand still from its circular caresses over it.

Tooru weaves his head to the side to look at Shoyo while you slouch and rest your head on Tooru’s shoulders.

“You don’t?” he asks inquisitively to the other naked man on your bed.

“Why would I do that? I don’t want to hurt her,” Shoyo responds out of genuine concern that it makes your heart melt despite being impaled with the cock of another guy.

Tooru chuckles at his innocence before inviting him, “Sit beside us and watch, Shoyo.”

You feel the shift of the cushion beside you, indicating that Shoyo had followed Tooru’s suggestion.

“Ready to show your precious Shoyo how perverted you are?” Tooru whispers to you, delivering a wet stripe on your ear.

You struggle to hide your face on his shoulders as you answer him with a quivering “no.” The spank that follows is harder than the previous one, forcing you to throw your head back as you wobble from the pain.

“See, Shoyo-kun?” Tooru turns to your friend, treating you like an educational material for him to learn from. Meanwhile, the tangerine remains silent and eyes you with awe from discovering this side of you that even you weren’t aware of.

Your mouth gapes open while you try to think of something to explain yourself to Shoyo as you meet his gaze. Tooru makes use of the opportunity and sticks in his fingers inside your mouth.

You turn your attention to Tooru, a bunch of incoherent words coming from how he’s violating your wet cavern with his digits. Your plan to defend yourself to Shoyo is discarded when Tooru moves your hips against him with just one hand.

You go with the rhythm he’s setting while he thrusts his fingers inside your mouth.

“Hhhrrrmmm ,” you moan disorderly on his slender digits, making its owner chuckle with grisly amusement.

“She likes it,” Shoyo comments like he’s figured out what Tooru was talking about.

“Damn right she does.” Tooru presses his pads firmly on your tongue, coercing you to open your mouth wider. Then he trails his digits down, leaving your tongue lolling out of your mouth while his drenched fingers turn their attention to one nipple. To reinforce his point further, he pinches it, eliciting a pained groan from you as you shut your eyes.

“Wanna try for yourself, Shoyo-kun?” Tooru asks as he lays his grip back on your butt.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see how he reacts. You just feel him settle himself kneeling behind you and a different set of thicker fingers replace Tooru’s.

“Like this?” You can tell that it’s not you Shoyo’s talking to with how he’s obstructing your mouth from forming anything comprehensible. You feel the other set of digits find their way on your tits, making use of the slick that Tooru gathered from your mouth and fiddle with it.

“Do you feel good like this, y/n?”

You shudder from the feel of Shoyo’s lips on your ears. As always, he never fails to ask for validation if he’s making you feel good enough. At the same time, Tooru starts picking up the pace of how he’s rolling your hips against him, rendering you unable to respond to Shoyo’s question.

You can only interchange moans and whines from the different sources of pleasure swiftly leading you to grasp the edges of your climax.

Shoyo continues adoring you with his fingers at work and his mouth trailing zealous kisses from the back of your ear to the column of your neck. You feel his cock raging once again as it rubs on your ass while Tooru guides your pelvis to grind on him.

“Shoyoeeehhmmmm .”

He removes his fingers off your mouth and plays with your other nipple that’s been craving for attention. His tongue takes the place of his fingers as he slides it inside your mouth while he kneads your supple mounds. He starts grinding on your back as well, taking whatever pleasure he can get from the friction.

“Don’t forget I’m here too,” Tooru harshly reminds you of his presence when he puts a thumb over your clit and rubs the bud in brutal circles.

You tear your mouth away from Shoyo’s to cry out from the added stimulation that builds on to the pile of pleasure that’s about to explode.

Then, Tooru cuts all those coming from him, lets go of your hips and takes his thumb off your clit.

Even though Shoyo’s doing a great job of making feel good, it only intensifies your need for a release, not provide it.

“Why did you stop?” you mewl with the vehement need for him to make you cum.

“We’ve played this game before, can’t you tell?” he taunts aggravatingly because you remember it too well - how he made a complete mess out of you in public just to make you beg for him. You try to defy him by gyrating on your own, but the firmness of his hands lets you stay in place.

You groan with defeat. “Do you want me to beg again?”

He nods agreeably. “Beg for Shoyo to fuck you instead.”

You're taken aback by his request. You’ve never actually begged Shoyo the way you pleaded for Tooru because Shoyo always makes sure he gives you the pleasure you seek by asking nicely.

“Y/n, you don’t have to,” your friend counters his old rival’s order. Tooru slams a palm on your ass again before pushing his thumb on your clit. “Beg for him or this will go on for a while,” he warns.

You lean your head back on Shoyo’s shoulder as you look at him with lustful urgency. “Shoyo, please fuck me,” you beg with frustration. “Let me get a condom,” Shoyo says, and although you appreciate the thought, you halt him before he can leave the bed.

“I need you now. I need your cock inside me. Make me cum with it. Please …”

You feel his arousal pulsate at your back from your plea. Tooru lets go of his hold on you while Shoyo pulls you away to get you on top of him instead. Shoyo’s girth is thicker than the tourist’s so when he prods your entrance, you hiss at the additional stretch he’s giving you.

“You okay?” Shoyo utters caringly as he sweeps the strands of hair stuck on your face. You give him a frail nod as your pussy tries to accommodate his girth. When he bottoms out, you don’t give yourself time to adjust and hastily chase for the gratification Tooru denied you of.

Shoyo grabs you to lie right on his chest as you bounce rigorously on his cock.

“Shooyooooo, haaaa . I’m gonna--”

A spank lands on one butt cheek - a rough, sharp hit that instigates tears to prickle on the corner of your eyes from the sting, the very same hit that topples you over the edge of ecstasy. When your body begins thrashing on top of him, he continues moving for you, letting you ride the apex of your orgasm to its maximum.

“Y/n, uughhh, you’re clenching on me. Can I keep moving?”

He asks while rocking your hips to keep them moving. You want to tell him to wait for a good while, give you a minute for a break, but you’re too breathless to speak.

Tooru answers for you though. “Yes, Shoyo-kun. Keep moving, just move a bit slower.”

Damn. Will he ever say anything that you actually agree on? You’re just thankful that at least he made Shoyo slow down. He grabs your waist and hoists you up from Shoyo’s chest. “How’s it feel to be spanked by your dear friend, y/n?”

You’re a bit spent from your orgasm, but he’s overbearing that you just had to say something. “You’re a scumbag,” you puff angrily.

“I know,” he smiles sweetly before capturing your mouth while he leads your hand to his stiff member. He covers your hand with his and basically uses it to jack himself off.

“You could’ve had this taken care of earlier,” you whisper. He could’ve just continued fucking you until he got off, but for some reason, he made you do it with Shoyo.

“I have other things in mind.”

You’re about to ask what but Shoyo suddenly hits a spot that makes you grab onto Tooru for support. “Fuuuck,” you moan while looking at Shoyo helplessly. You just came, but his slow plunges are quickly reviving your crude desires.

He lets his hands mendear all over your body, worshipping every nook, every curve he can lay his hands on given how he’s lying beneath you. Tooru lets you go to let you fall back onto Shoyo’s embrace.

Shoyo stops moving you and does the work himself, plunging his thick cock inside you faster - a familiar feeling that always gets you reeling from his intensity.

What isn’t familiar is the prodding of something on an opening that’s never been touched. You harshly snap your gaze to Tooru to check what the hell he’s doing this time. When your eyes make contact with each other, he waves at you while his other hand rests on your ass.

“This will be awesome, I swear,” he assures you with no hint of sincerity. You see him spit on your ass before inserting one finger in your rear.

It’s totally new to you, a strange sensation to be penetrated in that particular entrance. But Shoyo’s thrusts are too good of a distraction that it weirdly adds to the sensation he’s providing.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re feeling good,” Shoyo says with his stare boring on your face.

Goddamn. One who reveres you and one who toys with you, how will this night end for you? Your thoughts get all frenzied up when you feel him add another finger in.

“It feels weird, Tooru! One is enough,” you tell him even with your attention all on Shoyo and the complete adoration he has on his face.

“Okiee,” Tooru says amiably, then inserts a third digit in your tightening hole. “There, one more just like you said,” he announces proudly as he slowly drives three fingers inside your ass.

Your breathing starts to get uneven from the foreign feeling. “Shoyo, I feel weird,” you turn to him.

“Should I ask him to stop?” he asks as he cups your face with sympathy.

“Yeaah aaaaaaaaahhhhhh, ohh shit.” A different kind of pleasure assaults you when Tooru starts pumping his digits unforgivingly.

Shoyo interprets your moan as discomfort as he tells Tooru to stop. “I think she’s in pain, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru acknowledges Shoyo’s statement and stops. “Don’t move too, Shorty.” Shoyo immediately complies but asks, “Why?”

You get the answer when something bigger and thicker than his fingers penetrate your back entrance.

Oikawa winces at the first two inches he sinks in you. You’re so fucking tight that he can surmise it’s your first time to be taken in this hole. Shit, it’s already clamping on him despite not being even halfway in.

He nudges further, managing to shove in almost his whole length but that’s when you get alarmed. “Tooru, no more, please,” you plead with discomfort gleaming clearly on your features.

“Shoyo, move again.” He ignores you, but if you still don’t relax after this, he’ll pull out. Fuck. Shorty better does the trick. He’s been waiting for this. That’s why he’s been holding back and letting you and Shoyo have all the fun.

Fortunately, you do loosen up as Shoyo starts to rock himself inside you again. “I-I’m.. haaa,” you whine with pleasure more than pain.

Hell yeah. It would’ve been a waste if he doesn’t get to experience your ass. He was tempted to play with it that night on the beach, but the location did not permit him to do all the things he wanted to do to you, including this.

But no matter, he has the chance now, even better, Shorty pie is here to help him soothe you.

His hands wander on your chest, groping their softness before they travel down to the sides of your waist, then to your hips. Then, he rams his remaining length inside your tight gummy walls.

He can almost hear your throat scratch from the loud scream that came from it. “What did you do, Oikawa-san?!”

Tooru wipes a sweat from his forehead as he answers. “Relax, I just stuck my cock in her butt that’s all.”

“What?! No wonder she’s feeling weird. Why did you even do that?”

He grins at Shoyo’s lack of experience for these things, and also at you who seem to think that Shoyo knows how to make you feel good. To be fair, Shorty is very well familiar with your body and knows how you want to be held and to be fucked.

But nothing more than that. Shoyo obviously did not push for anything more than what you told and showed him.

Lucky for both of you, he’s there to expand your horizons.

“Yes, Shoyo. You can fuck someone in the ass,” he enlightens the ginger as he starts shoving his cock in and out to tend to his own needs.

“How does it feel, y/n?” he asks you. You turn your head back to him with that hateful yet intoxicated look in your eyes and he already knows that your ass will be for him to wreck tonight.

“I d-don’t like- mmmm -it,” you protest with a frail voice, but Tooru doesn’t bother to stop. Rather, he speeds up.

It’s definitely strange for you, being stuffed by two men whose thrusts are distinct from the other. You’d hear and feel the slap of skin to skin contact when Shoyo buries himself inside you, but when he pulls back it’s followed by Tooru fully sinking himself in your ass.

It’s absurd and absolutely lecherous, yet it feels fucking incredible. They’re stretching both holes while you can do nothing but grasp at Shoyo’s chest as you hear their groans and mewls taint your room.

“Do you really not like it?” Shoyo whispers for only you to hear.

The genuine care in his eyes makes you tell him the truth. “It feels,” you bite your lip when Tooru’s moans become louder as he pounds your ass faster. “G-good, Shoyo. Feels s-so good,” you somehow manage to finish speaking despite your head starting to get clouded from frenzy.

Hinata’s never felt anything like this before either. He can feel Oikawa inside you with that flimsy muscle that separates your two holes. Your little pussy feels more snug against him, swallowing his dick tighter for him to revel on.

But the look on your face tells him that this feels way more intense for you than for him. Your pupils are blown out, your cheeks are flushed, and you’re almost drooling at his chest while you claw on him. It’s so sexy -- the sexiest expression he’s ever seen from you. He can cum just from this, but he can’t help but wonder.

“Oikawa-san. I want to see,” he stops moving altogether when he tells the setter.

You widen your eyes at him. You probably don’t like his idea, but he can only apologize for his curiosity is getting the best of him.

He pulls out from you and watches Oikawa grab you to rest on his chest. Oikawa leans against your headboard and spreads your legs to indulge Hinata the view he requested.

“Here you go, Shorty-pie. I’ll slow down for you,” Oikawa says.

Hinata’s attention is all on your ass being spread out by Oikawa’s dick. It’s so obscene. He never imagined you could be fucked there. If he knew, he would have tried it himself.

“Shoyo, don’t look at me,” you plead.

His eyes shoot up to your embarrassed face, not understanding why. You look fantastic like this: sprawled out for him to see everything. our rear being defiled, your pussy dripping and gaping at nothing, your body glistening with sweat, and that erotic expression you have.

“Uhhhh, ” you shut your eyes when Oikawa starts toying with both your boobs as he continues thrusting at you.

“Don’t be so stingy, y/n. Shoyo wants to see you like this,” then he turns to Hinata. “Isn’t she so slutty, Shoyo-kun?”

“I’m not-”

A slap on your clit stops you from finishing your sentence. Your cunt starts clenching on its own from the sting. “Fuck, y/n. Even your ass is throbbing from that. You really like being hurt, don’t you?”

He says all that while his middle finger rubs circles on your hard nub. God, your mind is in ruin from this slow, venereal torture Tooru is subjecting you to.

“I d-don’t,” you pant heavily from the heavy ache in the pit of your stomach.

Another slap hits your cunt, ripping a shrill whine from you, followed by a slew of whimpers when his fingers fondle with your clit again. “What’s that again?” Oikawa hums on your neck.

“I’m a slut! I’m a slutty girl, so please. Please don’t stop again,” you admit defeatedly, overwhelmed by the intense craving to be fucked properly.

“See, Shoyo-kun? Your good friend over here is a pervert who has a talent for begging.”

You look at Shoyo, ready for the scandalized and disgusted look on his face. But what you see is mesmerized hunger with his eyes on your body.

“I want to fuck her ass too, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru takes out his dick as Shoyo requested. “Go ahead, Shorty.”

Shoyo grips your knees and pushes them back a little before he probes your entrance. Oikawa tilts your face to his and engages you with a messy kiss where he darts his tongue inside your mouth right off the bat.

Then he puts his hands back to work, one on your tit and the other on your pussy, distracting you from the pain of Shoyo’s size penetrating your other entrance.

“It’s so big,” you whimper on Tooru’s mouth, which makes him stop all his ministrations and retreat a bit. “Geez, y/n. Are you trying to insult me?”

“N-no, it’s just uughhh.” You feel the whole of Shoyo’s length inside your rear end.

“Does it feel good, y/n?” he asks even though he’s already moving in and out of you with less sympathy than he used to have as he doesn’t let you adjust to him. And when you’re finally used to his girth, he pulls out completely and hammers it inside your sopping pussy.

He thrusts a few times then gets back to your ass again. He does this several times, the pleasure barely setting in on one hole, then proceeds to fucking the other before it feels too good for you.

“Shit, Shoyo. That’s fucking hot. Our y/n here loves it. Look at her.” Just as he’s ogling at you, you watch him as well. He’s completely lost in it, his eyes trained on where your bodies are connected, not aware that he’s driving you mad with the way he’s abusing two holes interchangeably.

“Shoyo…”

“What?” His voice is gruff as his alternating thrusts are getting faster, making you squirm on Oikawa’s chest for you can’t decide what you want to tell him. You don’t know if you want Shoyo to fuck your cunt or your rear.

You’d hate to admit it, especially with Tooru holding you captive in his hold, but you want both caverns stuffed to the brim.

“Can you choose one? I want to fuck her too, Shorty,” Tooru’s voice is laced with need which wasn’t there earlier. Finally, you agree with him on something. It pops off Shoyo’s enthralled selfish state of gratifying his pleasure alone.

“My bad,” Shoyo mutters before slotting his cock deep inside your pussy, choosing it for him to ravage on, which leaves your behind for Tooru.

When you get what you’ve been craving for, it’s mind-shattering. You’ve been edged non-stop that the feeling of being pummeled by Tooru’s and Shoyo’s cock shatters any slew of dignity and shame you had. Your head is filled with nothing but their dicks battering your insides with an uncoordinated, wild rhythm.

“Yesssss ahhh. ”

Tooru’s chest vibrates from his low laughter as he asks, “Does my cock feel good in this hole of yours?”

Shoyo spreads your cheeks apart, increasing the effect of Tooru’s words as he glides in easier and faster from Shoyo’s action.

“Yes! Please, keep fucking my ass, Tooru. Oh god, fuck. Shoyo, you’re hitting so deep, I - haaaa. ” Oikawa starts sucking a sensitive spot on your shoulder while Shoyo leans down inches from your mouth.

“Can you stick your tongue out, y/n?”

You don’t ask anymore, you just do it. You poke your tongue out as Shoyo requested. He does the same to play with yours, his moist, warm muscle clashing and colliding over yours.

Shoyo is different from usual and so are you. You feel so perverted, but you’re relishing every second, every thrust by both dicks.

“‘ m genna cuuhhmmm,” you slur.

Shoyo retrieves his tongue, leaving yours hanging out of your mouth. “I can’t believe you’re this slutty, y/n.”

You lose it. Shoyo’s crude words make you convulse on top of Tooru as your orgasm comes crashing down on you. You didn’t expect such treatment from Shoyo. You also didn’t expect you’d cum because of it.

You try to arch your back but Tooru is quick to grab one wrist while his arm snakes around your waist to prevent you from doing so. You’re left with no choice but to stay a whimpering, writhing mess in between two men who continue to slide in and out of you while you reel from your second climax.

With your one free hand, you wearily reach for Shoyo’s wrist. “Let me rest.” Your body is beginning to feel overwhelmed from the consuming pleasure they’re assaulting you with.

“Ehhh? That’s boring. Wanna try something fun, Shoyo?” You don’t miss the naughty suggestive tone of Tooru, but you’re too out of it to react.

Shoyo disregards your frail request and nods eagerly at the man behind you. With Shoyo’s approval, Tooru slips his cock out of your ass and pushes it into your pussy that’s already occupied by Shoyo.

“GAAAAAAAAAHH!!” You struggle again to break free from Tooru’s embrace but combined with your fatigue and his strength, it turns out futile. The stretch is atrocious. It’s like you’re being split open to no end.

“Too tight,” Shoyo bites his lip with distress.

“Spit on her cunt,” Tooru quickly provides a solution which Shoyo does without thinking twice, gathering drool in his mouth then barbarically spitting on your pussy.

“I can’t do this. I’m going to break,” you voice out to no one, hoping that one of them takes mercy on you.

Tooru growls right on your ear. “Now won’t that be interesting?”

Then he rams his dick inside you, successfully joining Shoyo’s.

Another scream rips out of you as the two of them try to fit inside your already wrecked cunt. It hurts. You feel the burn of being outstretched together with discomfort of overstimulation. Even then, the moans that come out from you are of carnal thrill and elation.

It hurts, but in the best ways possible.

Your toes are curling from the lack of grip on reality while your hands tremble as they sought for anything to hold on to. One is shaking as it grips on Tooru’s forearm while the other is quivering at nothing in mid air.

Finally, Shoyo takes notice of you. You don’t care how you look right now, but you’re just glad that he’s looking your way again.

He hooks your calves to his shoulders, freeing both of his hands to hold yours. He intertwines them with his, allowing you to ground yourself on him that way.

Tooru’s thrusts become erratic as hands find purchase on your tits to paw. “Fuck, I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna-uughhhh -cum.”

Your response is one driven by vulgar desires. “Cum inside me, Tooru. Pleasee,” you tell him as you look him in the eyes.

“Fuck yes! ”

The slap of his skin against yours gets louder and faster while his high-pitched whines fill your ear. “Yeaaah, cumming, Ms. Local. Shiiiit.” He stills completely while you feel spurts of warm liquid fill you up.

His hot breath fans your neck as he comes down from his climax, but he doesn’t budge and remains inside you. You wiggle above him, trying to get his cock to slip out, but he only fastens his grasp on your waist.

“Trust me, y/n. I’m doing this for you. Without my cock, this cunt of yours will loosen up. You and Shoyo-kun will take even longer to cum with how stretched and wet you already are.”

Shoyo, on the other hand, pummels inside you even faster from the lubrication Tooru gave. “You feel so amazing, y/n. Hmmmmppp. So tight, so sexy, so haaaa.” His fingers are almost crushing your hand, but you only feel the pleasure of being drilled with his dick.

Tooru’s hand flies to your sex and frantically plays with your clit again. But this time, the effect is even more immense as he consistently rubs it with his calloused pads in rapid up and down strokes. His other fingers add another stimulation for you, tweaking one perk nipple - pinching and pulling at his leisure.

Your whole body is on fire. You feel so dirty with sweat, drool, and cum all mixed and squelching from your slit. You feel it - the impending orgasm that feels different from the rest. Your head’s all fuzzy while your vision is getting blurry for some reason.

When a hiccup escapes your mouth, you figure out why - you’re sobbing. Tears are welling in your eyes from the overstimulation. “Too muuuuchhh, is tooo muaaa-aaaahhh.”

“Almost there, y/n. Just a bit more,” Shoyo says with eyes closed and clenched jaw as he continues roughing up your already sore pussy.

Shoyo starts thrusting a bit upwards, hitting a spot that’s doing something inexplicable to your senses. “Something — oh god, something’s uuuhhh, noooo.”

You hear a deafening wail from you as clear liquid gushes out from your sex while you thrash uncontrollably. “Holy shit, she squirted.” Tooru’s voice seems distant with how you’re still teetering from the violent orgasm that exploded from you.

“What was th- shit! I’m cumming. I’ll cum inside you too, y/n. You’ll let me, riiight?”

His hips rut viciously onto yours, prolonging the intensity of your own release. His mewls get louder and louder paired with your cries until he delivers one sharp thrust that unloads his seed inside you.

You feel so full with two dicks still inside you with both their cum dripping down your pussy. Tooru is the first to pull out while Shoyo is puffing with his hands still tightly clutched onto yours.

A massive weight looms on your chest, extending all over your body now that the euphoric yet salacious fog in your head is slowly being stripped off. Your vision is clearing out, the light bulb on your ceiling suddenly seeming too bright for you. The tenderness of certain body parts are getting noticeable. The sweat and saliva on your skin suddenly feels too sticky, too filthy, too disgusting.

You’re not even aware you’re trembling once again.

Oikawa, being the one holding, immediately takes notice. “Y/n?”

Your response to him is a whimper. “Shit. Let go of her. Now,” he says with urgency.

Shoyo opens his eyes and is alarmed when he sees you in a rattled distress. He softly draws you away from Oikawa and cradles you himself.

Oikawa stands up and goes to your drawers. Hinata doesn’t know why but doesn’t mind and turns his attention to you instead.

“Y/n?” He caresses your shoulder down to your arms, trying to ease whatever it is that’s bothering you. You hang onto his bicep but it slides down from the dampness of his skin. His concern grows when you let out a soft sob.

He holds your hand delicately, brushing his thumb against it. He tries to get you to look at him but you persistently shun your face away. “Please look at me. I’m so sorry. Was I too rough?”

You swing your head side to side, refuting his assumption. “I feel nasty and gross,” you sniffle. “But you’re not. You were so beautiful and sexy and amazing,” he says truthfully as he remembers how ravishing you were laid out for him.

You finally look at him, the most vulnerable he’s ever seen you.

“Really?”

He nods earnestly before planting a tender kiss on your forehead.

Oikawa comes back to bed with fresh towels at hand. He wipes the clammy fluids on your body, patting the warm cloth on your arms, thighs, and torso which alleviates further your malaise. Then, he wraps a new one around you and lifts you up to a sitting position.

“You’re far from being disgusting, y/n,” Oikawa whispers on the back of your head. He carefully lays his hand on your shoulder, testing if his touch triggers any unpleasant reaction from you. He skims it towards your neck and cups it. With no resistance put up, he places a chaste kiss on your nape.

“You were incredible,” he hums on your skin. “Let’s take a shower? Get you cleaned up, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur weakly. Oikawa looks at Hinata and signals him to carry you since you’re more comfortable with him.

You sigh once the warm trickles of liquid hit your skin. It’s calming, soothing the distraught uproar in your thoughts and nerves.

A hand rakes up the wet strands of your hair and lathers your soap on your back. On your front, a familiar set of lips kisses you while water streams down on both of you. It feels like a hazy, tranquil dream. You just hear the cascading of water, echo of footsteps in the wet tiles, and a couple of sighs.

Next thing you now, you’re snuggled up in bed with someone drying your hair. You open your heavy lids and catch sight of a topless Tooru seated next to you as he tucks you with a blanket that smells like your drawers.

The bed is no longer drenched and everything feels crisp and fresh, lulling you deeper to rest.

“Stay with her until the morning, Shoyo.” It’s Tooru’s voice.

“You’re leaving?” Shoyo questions him as he stops patting the towel on your hair..

“Nah. She doesn’t like me. She’ll probably scream or hit my face first thing in the morning.” He’s about to get up when you muster whatever energy’s left of you to grab his wrist.

He regards you with care as he takes hold of the hand you’re tugging him with. “Yes?”

“Stay.”

He smiles with affection, a novel sight he’s shown you only now. He joins you in bed, filling the empty space on your left side. You close your eyes again, relishing the soft caresses and gentle pecks on your body as you peacefully drift off to sleep.

You wake up with the warmth of another body radiating onto yours. A heavy arm is draped across your waist and your cheek is nestled to a chest that rises and falls in a calming tempo that makes you want to drift back to your slumber.

But curiosity gets you. You slowly open your lids and are met with rays of sunlight glazing the orange strands of hair of the man next to you.

‘Sunshine on sunshine,’ you thought.

It’s a stirring sight to behold, but you have to wonder. He’s never stayed until morning. What happened last night that made him do so?

You scuff around, getting ready to sit up when you feel a heavy ache from your abdomen all the way down to your legs.

Wha- oh.

Oh.

That happened.

After your mind refreshes itself and replays some key scenes from last night, you glance back at Shoyo with no ounce of regret from what happened. You give him a soft peck on his chest and carefully shuffle out of the bed, making sure you don’t wake him up.

Up on your feet, you walk to your dining room and find what you’re looking for - the other accomplice of last night’s feat.

He’s seated comfortably at your table with a hot cup of coffee. “Buenos dias, señora,” he greets in his own dazzling way.

“I thought you were leaving,” you state with no trace of hostility as you trudge to the kitchen from how tender your lower body is.

“I clearly heard you asked me to stay,” he ripostes.

You get your own cup of coffee and join him in the dining area. “I did, didn’t I?” you ask with a soft whimsical grin ghosting across your lips.

“Mmhmm,” he sips from his mug leisurely then asks, “Any regretS?”

You meet his mellow eyes with your own. “Weirdly, none.”

The smiles that spread on your faces mirror each other, humored and satiated. Last night was definitely an experience - a mind-blowing one, and you’re extremely thankful that the aftermath of it was extremely catered for you as well.

The remaining contents of his coffee were spent in comfortable silence. “I think this is when I say thanks for the sex and coffee, then leave.”

Your reaction should be of animosity. This is the part you detested, when you’re treated like a part of the Rio de Janeiro local tour. But for some reason, you found the current situation funny.

“I believe it is indeed that moment,” you agree congenially.

“See you when I see you, Ms. Local,” he gives you a wink and gets up. The smile you had doesn’t go away as you bring your cup to your lips.

You hear your door open and a sudden need to tell him a parting message bursts on your chest.

“Hey, Tourist,” you break the stillness of your apartment as you call him out and turn around on your seat to face him.

“Hmm?” He regards you quaintly with his hand still on the doorknob.

It is long overdue and inappropriate in various sorts of ways, but you say it anyways.

“Welcome to Brazil.”

masterlist of other stuff I wrote

Taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai @babythotshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @crescenttooru @yashuaaa @liberhoe @richkookie @hqbeesun @megatron-1199 @kawaiiisis

#oikawa smut #hinata smut #haikyuu smut #oiikawa x reader #hinata x reader

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alltooreid · 3 years

Note

hey! congrats on 300!! i was wondering, if it’s okay, could you do prompt 36, all i ask is that it’s fluffy and with a she/her reader? if not it’s totally cool!! thanks and congrats again ✨✨

thank you! i hope you like this :)

Prompt: #36: “your laugh is the best sound i have ever heard”

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Type: Fluff

Word Count: .9k

Content Warnings: None! (I think, please let me know if I’m missing something!)

“Emily! Are you doing anything tonight?” Spencer walked faster to catch up to Emily as she was leaving the BAU. “They’re doing a midnight showing of The Cameraman’s Revenge at the library tonight, it’s one of the most groundbreaking animation films ever made, and since it has Russian origins I was wondering if you wanted to go see it with me.”

“Sorry Spencer, I’m exhausted and need to go feed Sergio. But I’m sure it has English subtitles, you should ask Morgan or JJ to go with you,” Emily said as she entered the elevator.

“Well actually it’s a silent film so it doesn’t-” at that point Spencer stopped, as the elevator doors had already closed, and he didn’t really think Emily was listening to him while they were open anyway.

The truth was Spencer had already asked Morgan and JJ, he was hoping he could make it a group activity but no one wanted to go with him. He was about to try his luck with Penelope and had made his way to her office when her door opened, and her and Kevin walked out.

“Oh hey Spencer! Did you need something? Me and Kevin were about to go get a drink but I can turn my stuff back on if you need me.”

“Honey we already had to cancel our reservations, this place is going to close soon,” Kevin said.

“Oh nonsense, there are other restaurants Kevin,” she bickered back. “Now what’s up 187?”

“It’s nothing actually, it can wait till tomorrow. Um, you guys have fun,” Spencer quickly replied before turning on his heels.

“Wait! Are you doing anything tonight Spencer? You should totally come with us, the more the merrier right!”

Kevin didn’t even attempt to hide his eyeroll, “This is our date Penelope, come on I don’t want to be late.”

“You said it yourself Kevin, we don’t have any reservations to be late to. Spencer’s my friend and we can go on a date some other time,” Garcia said. Although she wasn’t officially a profiler, Spencer had learned a long time ago not to underestimate Penelope Garcia’s people reading abilities. She knew he was feeling down about being rejected from after work plans and although Spencer was sure she would rather go on her date alone, she didn’t want one of her best friends to go home so sad.

“It’s okay, um I should probably just go home. I’m really tired actually,” he lied.

Penelope smiled sadly, “Well then you go sleep genius, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Spencer waved bye before speed walking back to the elevator, trying to ignore the bickering couple he was leaving behind. Especially Kevin’s comments about how difficult it was to hold a conversation with him.

Instead, Spencer decided to just go to the movie by himself.

As he was walking into the library (which as always was incredibly empty) he noticed the man who usually played the movies was not there, instead a young woman was in his place.

“Oh hey! Come on in, I was nervous it was gonna be just me tonight.”

“Where’s Doug?” Spencer asked, he knew the man who was in charge of the foreign movie nights well, and had never seen him miss a day.

“Oh, I’m his daughter, Y/N. He wasn’t feeling well today so he asked me to sub in. You must be Spencer. My dad talks about you all the time.”

“Really?”

“Really. You would think you were his kid. Always raving about how smart you are and how cool your job is to anyone who will listen. Makes me look like a real drag.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t know he was doing that, I-”

He was cut off by a laugh, “I’m joking, I find it funny. If I was your friend, trust me I’d be doing the exact same thing.”

Spencer blushed, no one had ever expressed such an obvious interest in being his friend before. Doug had talked about his daughter a couple times but Spencer never pictured her as this charming and pretty. Not to mention her laugh was adorable.

Maybe it was time to put all of Derek’s “expert pointers” to use.

“Um, how determined are you to show this movie tonight?” Spencer asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s a diner across the street that had really good all day pancakes. . .”

She smiled as she caught on, “I guess if no one showed up we’d just have to move movie night to another day huh.”

“I mean that would be unfortunate, but if it must be done. . . “

Y/N laughed again, which was quickly becoming like music to Spencer’s ears. His jokes never were this well received with his friends. They usually found his attempts to be humorous hard to understand or odd.

“Well then let’s go. I think pancakes sound a lot better than watching a hyper realistic bug animation. I will let you know though, I’m awful to have a conversation with. I laugh at everything, I’m like a hyena.”

Spencer smiled. “Trust me Y/N, after the day I’ve had, your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard.”

****

super awesome hot people taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @spenxerslut @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @laurnrnlds @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reidyoulikeabook

@ssa-m-187 (you’re not on my taglist but you expressed interest in this blurb prompt haha)

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!!

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the-shiftshop · 3 years

Text

Hey Diary - Part 4

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 and SIDE STORY 1 of the Hey Diary Series

The day ended unexpectedly fun. Everyone was so confused why Keith and I had been laughing together, eating together and even sitting side by side in class today as if Keith never had bullied me. Some even tried to confront us, asking if Keith held me hostage. Keith had been dragging me all around with him. He even asked me to play ball with Peter and Tom, who seemed more closer than usual. I would make assumptions that my recent changes are still affecting them, but I already had deleted that log, and these two would, time by time, give hints that they’re nothing more than a friend, so I shrugged it off.

On my way home, I couldn’t get the fun out of my system. I finally felt so free to move. It’s like I can finally do whatever I want and be whatever I want to be.

Then I suddenly remembered what Keith had asked me this morning.

“Make me old enough to be a teacher for a day.”

It got me thinking about what he’s planning to do once more. It’s not that I don’t trust Keith. It’s just that I’m wondering what his goal is. It’s probably just because he wants to experience being old, or being a teacher. He looked so exhilarated when I told him all about the Diary App, so I’m pretty sure he just wants to give it a try.

At home, I didn’t waste anymore time to tinker with the app as I am very tired and I already want to fall asleep. I carefully wrote down on the app, thinking of the desired outcome I am aiming for.

Monday

Hey Diary,

Today was fun. It felt like I was friends with Keith, Peter and Tom ever since the first day we met. We all had fun together and it felt like all my problems are fixed. This morning, I talked to Keith about this Diary App. I have trusted Keith on this, and I do hope he wouldn’t take that for granted. He was super amazed with this app and the ability of it to change reality and he specifically gave me one request.

I wish that would come true, I wish Keith would turn into the person he want him to be just for a day, and that he would be aware of any changes that may occur.

With that properly typed out, I pressed save, then in just a few seconds, I lost consciousness on my bed.

---------

As soon as Felix fainted in his room, Keith was lying on his bed in the frat house, tossing and turning as he feel his body contort in uncomfortable ways. It wasn’t painful. It just felt like his body is growing far more foreign in every seconds that pass by. It’s like his body wanting to grow numb, but he can still feel pain if he try to pinch himself. With his fingers still pinching his cheeks, he noticed hair poking out to them. He proceeded to feel his face with both his hands, realizing that he’s growing a full beard. Finally recognizing what’s going on, he stopped moving around, and he instead just lied on his back and let it all happen.

He moved his hands down to his growing torso, feeling each muscles expand in his touch. He’s growing, that’s for sure, and it’s not just his body. His mind started to fog up a little, making him wince for a bit.

“I should be working on my lessons for tomorrow-” He blurted out unconsciously. He stopped himself midway, realizing what he had just said. That was the first time he said that. And not only that he meant he’ll study for a lesson, he knows he meant that he’s the one teaching them tomorrow.

He finally decided to stand up. His eyes widened when he saw that it had suddenly gone dark. Not only that, but his beddings changed. His shock soon changed into amusement when we quickly see the night change into day then back to night simultaneously, starting off slow, then it sped up. Even the weird feelings all over his body start to feel more prominent. Memories of years of teaching poured out into his brain. Names of all the student he should know popped out in his mind. Charles, that up-to-no-good student but gets straight As in his class; Marie, that campus nerd who kept asking him weird questions; Lawrence, that jock who needs to keep up with his quizzes. Keith already knew some of these students, but he started to see them in a different light. These are the students he teach, not his friends, not his classmates, not his football teammates.

Keith fell back on his knees as he started to feel tiredness.

It was exhausting feeling all of these happen in just a few minutes. It hurts his eyes to see the outside change between night and day as if like flashing images. His vision started to blur and in replace to his clear sight, a thick round glasses appear on his face.

He remember finishing college and finally started his first practice teaching. Now he’s a fully pledged professor. Everyone liked him. He can even remember students confessing their feelings for him, but of course, declining these for his job. He can remember going into classrooms, not to sit with the crowd, but to stand in front of them. He knows how to make a hard topic fun and he knows his students enjoy his class as much as how he loves to teach.

Tiredness was replaced with pleasure as he arched his back, placing both hands on his crotch, then giving a loud satisfying moan. Feeling his cock ballooned through his shorts. He slowly humped against his hands as he put more pressure on them.

He remember tons of hook ups from college up to recent. Remembering women bouncing on him, kissing him passionately, touching him with deep romantic and sexual connection. These thoughts of women is making him hard. His colleagues had been asking him why he haven’t been properly dating anyone yet, or even planning to marry anyone since he’s already nearing age of marriage, but he just enjoys having flings with a lot of people more than sticking to one, at least, for now. He knows when he will find that right person, and that person has not come yet.

He realized that both of his hands are already in his underpants, pawing that hard cock with one hand, while the other is teasing his tip. He finally had let both of his hands stroke his large shaft. He pulled his cock out of his shorts, then finally gave into pleasure.

“A-Ah! Yeah! Damn!” He cussed in his new deeper voice. Not only that he noticed his voice, he realized that his cursing got more softer, less of that slurs, but more of that expression used to show immense satisfaction. “Aww.. This feels so...”

He cut himself as he finally real his climax, cumming all of what seemed like a 14 year stock of cum all over the floor. The cum stain on the floor disappeared soon enough and his room straightened up more. Finally the quick changing of time came to a full stop.

It was morning and it’s time to take a shower and go to school.

---------

Wish was completed. Please take a picture and attach to the log to confirm change and to keep the new reality.

I stared at the pop-up message in my phone. Peter and Tom are laughing beside me while they eat their lunch. I haven’t seen Keith since morning. I’m kinda worried if I messed up with something. The suspense is killing me and I don’t like this. Tom waved a hand in front of me.

“Dude. You’re been staring in your phone since the time you got here. You fine?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just wondering where Keith has gone to.” I said.

“Keith? Who’s Keith?” Tom asked, before giving me a shocked face. “You don’t mean Professor Keith, right?” He chuckled, “Didn’t know he’s your type.” He joked.

I gave him a confused look, then realizing what he meant, I quickly tried to reply back. “N-No! It’s not like that-”

“Tom, don’t tease him. Let him like whoever he likes.” Peter laughed.

“I mean, I should’ve been saying the same. But then, who wouldn’t fall head over heels for Professor Keith? He’s damn ripped. Unlike the other professors here who focus on growing their stomach and ego, more than growing their muscles.” Tom continued eating his food.

Keith’s a professor now, huh? I guess it worked.

After lunch, we proceeded to class. More than usual, everyone had been talking about Keith. I was sitting on my chair, still staring in my phone as it display the same message. I haven’t used this phone on anything else yet.

My attention switched to Alex who walked in front of me. I haven’t seen Alex in 2 days. He looks like he wants to ask me something. I looked at him and he opened his mouth. “Hey, Felix, uhm... Can we talk-”

“Okay, class back to your seats.”

A deep voice came booming through the room. Everyone sat back to their chairs, including Alex who looks disappointed.

I looked at the man by the whiteboard. He was wearing a denim dress shirt and a black jeans. His round glasses flare with the florescent light in the room. Everyone in the room is staring at him. Most girls are looking at him with hearts in their eyes.

The man dropped his things on the table, then started roaming his eyes around the room. “Before we start our lesson. Felix, a word.” He called onto me. I looked around to see everyone looking to my direction, most of them in shock. “Come now.” He said, walking out the room.

I hurried out to follow him somewhere. He didn’t bother looking back, and I just rushed to follow him. He finally stopped where there are barely no students around. He sat down by the window and stared at me. I just stared at him back, looking from his head to toe. He scuffed and gave me a short chuckle.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He grinned.

“I- Uhm. Sorry, prof. I don’t swing-”

“Nah! I’m messing with you, man!” He laughed. “It’s me! Keith! Well, it’s Professor Keith for you now.”

My eyes widened. This man is Keith. It worked. I mean why am I so surprised right now? I’m the one who knows about this Diary App.

“I’m enjoying this knowledge so much! I know about A LOT of stuff I never knew before. So this is how it feels to be a professor.” He flexed, touched his muscles, and basically showed off. He pulled out an apple and tossed it around. “A students gave this to me today. I never received any offer from anyone.”

“You like it?” I asked him.

“I like it? I LOVE IT! Though, I might not stay like this forever, at least I don’t want to.” He replied.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?” I asked him.

“Well... For now I want to enjoy being this kind of adult.” He answered.

He stopped for a while, running his fingers against his chin. He then took a bite from the apple he was holding, chewing it thoroughly, then swallowing.

“The reason why I’m asking your help is... I want to experience being different people for the whole week.”

#age progression #body modification #student to teacher #reality change #Hey Diary

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nakamoto-aesthetics · 3 years

Text

Guardian Angel | Johnny

synopsis: on the way from a friends house you bump into a man who was trying to harm you but luckily a guy named johnny saves you before you were taken. from there you get to know him a bit and things get… interesting. (the synopsis makes the story sound boing but i promise it’s not :)

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, a lil smut

warning: something similar to human trafficking in the beginning (if you’re sensitive to that topic please don’t read this fic), heavy make out shesh, not proofread!, other than that there’s nothing i can think of

a/n: also remember that this is a FIC and not real life, please don’t welcome strangers into your home :))

word count: 4.1k

“where do you think you’re going in that cute little dress baby?” an unfamiliar voice is heard as you walk down the fairly dark street. you don’t say anything and continue to walk not paying any attention to the voice. there was no one else really around, barely any cars passing by, let alone people.

“I asked you a question, I expect an answer” the tone was firm, his footsteps getting faster and so do yours. you hurriedly pull out your phone, quickly forming a plan that involved some of your friends but that all crashed and burned once you saw the dead battery flashing on the screen. your heart sink and tears instantly pooled in your eyes, threatening to fall from your eyes. that was your only escape, what were you gonna do now?

you were just trying to get home that was all. maybe you should’ve let your friend drive you home but you didn’t because you didn’t want to cause your friend an inconvenience. you were beginning to regret that decision, all because of that small reason. at least you would’ve been home safe and sound but no, you decided to be the unselfish and independent person you are, and look where it got you.

“hey!” a hand grips your shoulder from behind and swings you around. “I asked you a question when I ask a question I expect an answer” the guy wasn’t a foreigner, he was most definitely korean. he seemed to be in his mid-30s, the age definitely showed. there were creases and wrinkles in some areas of his face and his clothes were all black including his shoes. you try to pull away from the grip but he only grips your shoulder harder, hurting you more than you would like to admit.

“maybe I need to refresh your short memory,” the guy chuckles lowly, his finger shifting your head up to meet his eyes. “where are you going in that cute little dress?” his eyes looked you up and down, his free hand gliding down your waist, slowly traveling to your ass. your face stayed straight the entire time even while tears fell down your face. you knew who had the upper hand power in the situation, you knew there was little you could do even if you didn’t dare say it aloud.

“still not talking? well maybe I should force it out of you huh?” he tilts his head. no, because the whole time you were creating a plan b in your head since plan a failed. there was no way you were going to allow yourself to be trafficked.

“well then, you made this choice for yourself. i’m sorry to do this sweetheart” his hands grope your ass and that's when you strike. you move your leg up to kick him in the balls but he’s faster than you, grabbing ahold of your leg before it collided with his area.

“is that what you were doing this whole time, creating that wack-ass plan? you didn’t think i’d see it coming that’s so cute,” he fake coos. “i’ve been doing this longer than you, i’m smarter and faster than you love” he throws down your leg and in the blink of an eye, you are turned around in his grip with an arm around your neck. your hand flies to his arm and you pull on it, not wanting to be choked to death.

“is there a problem over here miss?” another unfamiliar voice calls, making both you and the guy look over to where it came from. it was a tall guy with light brown hair. he had tan skin and different pieces of clothing put together that oddly worked. his eyes were a soft brown, not too harsh. he was… kinda cute if you were being honest. he was also In the process of taking his headphones out of his ears, for what reason? you didn’t know.

“there’s no problem here, keep on walking buddy” the male answered for you.

“I asked the lady not you” the new stranger spoke harshly to the trafficker and look at you once again. “are you okay?” he knitted his eyebrows. your eyes caught his, filling with tears, threatening to spill from your eyes. he nodded softly understanding how you were feeling through your eyes. he then looked at the male behind you.

“let her go, I don’t wanna hurt you” he said firmly.

“oh yeah, what can you do?” he looks him up and down and laughs at the guy, walking back to his original place, which was a block or two away.

“Im can do a lot” the stranger walks in front of you and the guy, making you both stop once again.

“listen man, this is my girlfriend. we’re just having a little disagreement aren’t we honey?” the guy tightens his hold around your neck. you open your mouth trying to suck in more air but his hold gets tighter. you tap on his arm in hopes that he’ll release you but he doesn’t. there was no way you were gonna agree with him.

the stranger doesn’t think furthermore and before either of you knew it, your head was being moved out the way carefully and a punch was thrown at the guy's face. you heard a crack of a bone and quickly moved away from the area, running out the man's hold.

it was like an action movie, the man was the villain and the stranger was the hero, and you were the one in need of help. the fight ended with the stranger still standing and the man now on the floor. he wasn’t moving but his chest was still rising and falling. he wasn’t dead although you weren’t sure what was gonna happen in the next few minutes but you weren’t gonna find out either.

“are you okay?” the stranger rushes over to you, sliding off his jacket and handing it to you.

“that won’t be necessary” you chuckle and wave your hand at his jacket.

“please, I insist” he places the jacket around you, not wanted to make you feel uncomfortable by touching you.

“thank you” you look down and smile softly.

“it’s no problem, I could never just walk by if I saw something like that” he smiles gently. “do you want me to walk you home? you know, to make sure you get there safe?”

“uhh… why not” you smile and begin to walk in the direction, he comes up beside you and walks along with you.

you pulled his jacket closer to your body for warmth as you kept your eyes glued to the sidewalk, scarred by what had just happened. you’ve never experienced something that traumatic before. you could’ve been snatched up a while ago if it hadn’t been for the guy walking beside you right now.

“thank you” your voice was quiet in a way it had never been before.

“anytime” he glances over to you, seeing your small frame wrapped in his jacket.

“I really do mean it, if you wouldn’t have been there I don’t know what I would've done”

“yeah, i’m glad I was there too. it hurts me to see things like that happen” he shakes his head. “I wish I could protect everyone around the world,” he breathily laughs. “that’s probably why I want to be a police officer” your ears perked up when you heard that. you looked up at him with surprised eyes and he looked at you nodding his head.

“it’s always been a dream of mine ever since I was a kid. when I read my first comic book I loved everything about it, I knew I wanted to be some kind of hero after that. I wanted my parents to buy me every single superhero costume so then I could feel like that character, with all the powers and stuff.” you breathily laugh at that, he notices and laughs with you. “anyways that’s enough about me, I wanna know about you” he looks attentively to you.

the conversation continues until you got home. you learned that his name was johnny and that he was 25. he grew up in his hometown chicago but his parents are both korean, and he moved to seoul for better job opportunities. you gotta admit, the guy was interesting and you wanted to know more about him, you thought he was pretty cool.

“so… this is it?” johnny stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the house.

“yep” you look at the house and back to him. it got quiet for a few seconds, neither of you wanted to say bye to each other. johnny wanted to get to know you more and you wanted to know him more also.

“listen, I don’t know if the feeling is mutual but I wanna talk to you some more so how about this, I give my number and you get to choose if you want to text me” he offers and you instantly take it up. he smiles softly and enters his number in your phone. once you receive it back you see the name option blank.

“you’re not gonna name yourself?” you cock your eyebrow at him and he lightheartedly chuckles.

“I want you to have free will and set it as whatever you want. I want you to always feel like you have a choice when you're with me y/n” a smile was blatant on his face, allowing the corners of your mouth to pull up also.

“well thank you very much johnny,” you say, staring into his eyes, which seemed to catch the light from the streetlights in a way you’d never seen before. would it be weird to say that you wanted to get to know the sweet guy in front of you more?

“um.. i guess i should get going, it was nice meeting you y/n” his hypnotizing but kind eyes still staring into your soul. you never wanted to part away from them, from him. johnny was captivating, too captivating to let slip through your fingers.

“it was nice meeting you too. see you later johnny” you dismiss him yet his feet don’t move, they stay in place and so does he, looking at you with eyes of fondness. this continues for about a minute before you break the silence/slight sexual tension.

“uh- actually, do you wanna come in? i’m not going to sleep right away, honestly might have some trouble falling asleep” you shake your head, looking down and pretend to find your nails interesting.

“a-are you sure? i wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable-” he seems caught off guard by your words, obviously snapping him out of whatever trance he was in.

“not at all, now come on. i’ll put on a movie and get some food and drinks. it’ll be good” you smile brightly, grabbing his hand without thinking and taking him up to your front door. you unlock it quickly and turn on the lights, stepping into your clean house.

“this is a very nice environment you have y/n” he looks around staying still in his place, nodding his head, seeming genuinely impressed with it.

“thank you, it took a bit of work to get to this point” you chuckle, taking off your shoes and then his jacket. “oh, here you go” you hold the piece of heavy fabric out to him. he utters a ‘thanks’ once he sees it and takes it.

“you can put your shoes there” you point to the shoe rack beside to door. “and your jacket can go there” you point to the coat racket right next to the shoe rack. he doesn’t say anything and does as you say.

“now make yourself comfortable i’ll be right back” you point to the couch and then walk away but not before you caught his eyes. damn those eyes..

“now why did she do that? i swear horror movie characters are so fucking dumb” you roll your eyes and johnny laughs, agreeing with you.

“i mean what would you do in her position” you look at him. the light from the tv illuminating him perfectly. it was dark everywhere else so the only light you had was from the tv.

“i would’ve saved the friend and then booked it not stand there like an idiot waiting for someone to kill me” he looked at you right back, giving you that same look from earlier but his eyes were a bit brighter, filled with joy.

“exactly! so why can’t she do the same?” you sigh.

“y/n it’s just a movie” he chuckles.

“i know, i know but they really irritate me yk? like why stand there knowing damn well a killer is in the house with you i mean it’s-“

“alright it’s time to turn this off” he backs out of the movie, returning to the netflix screen where you started.

“hey!” you look at him with confused eyes.

“you were way too into it, it‘s not good for your blood pressure.” he says and looks at the tv, going through the comedy section.

you kept your eyes on him watching the way his eyes watch the screen attentively. you nibble on your lip, beginning to get lost in your thoughts. he could be your friend, best friend, boyfriend... husband- too far y/n, too far. you just met the guy but you felt like you’ve known him for a long time. you could see him being a potential boyfriend honestly. it’s been a while since you’ve had a boyfriend, really only focused on work. it wouldn’t be a bad idea. johnny seemed nice and he was interesting in a way nobody has been before, you could stay up talking to him and it wouldn’t get boring ever. what if you guys-

“y/n?” his head turns toward you and he catches you staring back at him with your lip between your teeth. he smiles softly and that’s when you are dragged out of your thoughts.

“here” you say out of nowhere making johnny laugh harder than before, his head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, filling the atmosphere with his beautiful laughs. meanwhile, you sat there a little confused and startled, blinking multiple times.

“huh?” you furrow your eyebrows.

“nothing” he waves his hands continuing to laugh.

“yah!” you hit his arm playfully. “i was lost in my thoughts im sorry” you look down feeling your cheeks heat up.

“while staring at me? what were you thinking about?” he says after his laughter dies down.

“uh.. nothing important, what did you pick?” you look at the tv trying to change the subject and you’re thankful that it works.

“that was a great movie, what’d you think?” johnny looks over to you and you nod tiredly, letting out a yawn. “oh somebody’s tired” he says and you don’t know if it was because you were tired but you thought it was cute.

“i enjoyed it and yes i am tired” you lazily chuckle and rub your face.

“alright, i’ll leave-“ he goes to stand up.

“no-“ you say abruptly and grab his wrist and his eyes shift down to your hold on him. “i mean… no you don’t have to, it’s late and i don’t want you going home at this time of night” you checked your phone with your free hand, completely forgetting about your grip on his wrist.

‘4:08 am’

“damn it’s four already?” your eyes bulge out your head and look up at him, his eyes still watching the way your skin was touching his. “you mister aren’t going anywhere, wouldn’t want anything to happen to you” you move closer to him and he notices this. you take your hand off his wrist and interlock your arms, resting your head on his shoulder. maybe it was the sleepiness that put you in this position but you didn’t mind it one bit, too tired to care.

he seemed surprised tensing up almost immediately but relaxing once he realized what was really happening. you were like the little bear that found comfort in the big bear. johnny brushed the extra pieces of hair out the way, how was it that he’d just met you but he felt so connected to you as if you were a lifelong friend he hadn’t seen in a long time. he didn’t under but at the same time, he didn’t want to understand it. he’d rather just let whatever this was flow at its own pace.

“do you think we’re moving too fast?” you say out of nowhere, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“i was just thinking about that and i think we should just let it happen naturally. whatever happens, happens” he says in a sweet voice and caresses your arm gently with his free hand. “if it feels right then act on it right? anyways, that’s the motto”

you move your head to look up at him and nod, intending to catch his eyes and you do. you’re only inches away from each other’s faces, eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips and so do his before either of you knew it your lips collided. johnny holding your jaw between his index and thumb. you wrap your hands around his neck and sit up slowly shifting onto his lap. your heart began to race as you kissed him deeper, johnny too, feeling his heart pumping with adrenaline, moving his hands down to your waist and gripping it. you moan softly against his lips as his hands travel inside your shirt. he felt like pure ecstasy against you. his touch, his lips, his words, everything him felt so good with you.

his hands then slid down to your hips and he gripped them, continuing to kiss you like no tomorrow. he pulls away from your lips, you following his lips for more, and he chuckles; before you knew it his lips were on your neck, pressing soft kisses to it making you moan softly. when his lips found your sweet spot he attacked it, leaving a dark red hickey in that place. you began to move your hips against his, hungry for some type of stimulation down there. his hands fly to your hips and he rests his head in the crook of your neck, letting out soft grunts.

you bite your lip and pull him up to kiss his neck, one of his hands rest on your shoulder. once you find his sweet spot you do as he did and leave a dark red hickey. you pull back and look at it proudly.

“an eye for an eye” you wink at him.

“yeah, yeah” he smiles and pulls your face closer, kissing you again, this time using a bit of tongue. you moan instantly, letting him win and he explores your mouth as your hands glide down his chest, you could feel all of the contours and lines of his muscles and abs, letting you know he was fit. which only made him sexier. your hands slip under his shirt and you explore the area. he was too hot for you to handle, you could pounce on him again even though you kind of already pounced on him. he’s just too hot.

you pulled away abruptly and he looked at you with a confused expression. you smirked and stood up, him still looking at you, obviously confused. he reached for your wrist but you pulled it away and before he could say anything, with the help of his thighs you got on your knees. his confused expression was now gone as he watched the scene unfold, his jeans were so tight against him and you knew that. his hard-on wasn’t small either, it was actually pretty big, you could still see his print though it was dark and you wanted to help him out so you teased him by gliding your fingers up his thighs and then teased his dick by running your finger up and down his hard-on.

“stop t-teasing” he breathily moans, watching your every move.

you smirked, looking up at him and unzipped his jeans.

did you guys fuck? no. just oral sex, that was all you guys agreed to. johnny thought it would be a bad idea to have sex during the initial meet. he said it would be best to give it at least a few weeks. he truly did wanna get to know you some more as did you and that’s why you were okay with not going that far.

you slept in your room after you guys were done giving each other head. you’d given him a blanket to sleep with and a comfortable pillow instead of making him use one of the uncomfortable decor ones on your couch.

“thank you johnny,” you said as he grabbed his coat. you let him stay for breakfast, that you and him cooked together. (he wasn’t going to let you cook it by yourself)

“for what? i should be thanking you. i had fun” he says as he puts his coat on.

“because i had fun too. the most i’ve had in a long time so thank you for that”

“it’s nothing really, i’m glad i could reflect some light on” he laughs and slips his shoes on.

“i hope we could do that again” you hint your fondness toward him.

“of course we can you just gotta let me know. i’m always free” he looks at you with that look once again and you can’t help but let it slip out.

“why do you keep looking at me like that, you’ve been giving me the same look since you met me” you say softly so then it doesn’t one out harsh and you know it doesn’t when he responds.

“because...” he moves closer to you which makes your heart skip a beat. “i actually like you y/n, and i mean it. you’re so different from other girls i’ve met. i’m not just another handsome guy to you. you take an interest in the things i say and the stories i tell you, not many girls do and i thank you for that alone. thank you for listening to me.” he moves even closer to you, grabbing your hands which makes your heart begin to race. “so when i look at you like this, i’m thanking you.” he doesn’t say anything after that continuing to stare deeply into your eyes.

you felt so drunk in the moment, hypnotized by his eyes and soft words. you could already feel how head over heels you were gonna be for this guy, that's if you guys kept it up, which you think you will. the chemistry was way too strong for either of you to let go of.

“thank you” you whisper and he nods gently not breaking eye contact. “you should get going, i wouldn’t want you to be late for work. you still gotta get home in time to change out of these clothes... do you need a ride or?”

“kind of... only if it’s not too much trouble” he answers.

“of course it’s not, come on” you quickly get your stuff on and take him home.

“this is it” he says and you stop the car once you’re in front of the house.

“okay, i’ll see you later” you look over to him and he’s already looking at you. nothing happens for a few seconds but then johnny leans over to you and kisses you. you sigh into the kiss and grab ahold of his neck and kiss him back as his hand rests on your neck, he kisses you just as deep as last night but before anything serious happens he pulls away and lets a ‘text me’ roll of his tongue before he exits the vehicle and walks to his front door, unlocking it and walking inside. all without looking back.

you however, were in complete awe. he kissed you like that and then left. damn was he a good kisser, you could still feel the sensation of his lips on yours even after he was gone. you touched your lips and then smiled, pulling off.

bonus: later that day; the evening

you decide to pick up your phone and do exactly what he said earlier.

you: what was that all about earlier? - y/n

johnny🥰😫: so you decided to finally text me😊

johnny🥰😫: and what was what about👀

you: you know what i talking about. the kiss in the car

johnny🥰😫: you know, it was just a see you later kiss

you: mhm, okay mr. suh

johnny🥰😫: what?😂

you: imma give your ass a ‘see you later’ kiss and then walk away. see how it makes you feel

johnny🥰😫: bring it on then sexy, let’s see what you got

you: oh i’ll show you what i got👀

johnny🥰😫: are we still talking about kissing?😳

you: maybe, maybe not🤷‍♀️👀

NCT Masterlist

236 notes · View notes

dreamii-yume · 3 years

Note

I got something for the sk8er boi, having sex while live filming for his Onlyfans cause the b-day was feeling possessive

He is our sケイト boi.

At first glance, it doesn’t seem like a good idea. Cater had always been one of the eccentric seniors in the academy, always getting himself into trouble for a quick selfie and people have to pull him out of it every time. You could scold him, sure, but in the end, a playful apology with some hugs and kisses are enough to make your heart soft. Repeat that cycle over and over again, you just eventually got used to his idiotic but lovable ass, he’s just that kind of person.

Or at least, that’s what you thought but...

“Come on, (Y/N)-chan~! It’ll be fun I promise!”

You knew he had an account like that and yeah, it’s weird to think about when you’re about to fall asleep sometimes but you supposed it was whatever. Cater could tell you that he’s accessing a black market to buy human organs but at this point, you might’ve done nothing but bat an eye at it and tell him to do whatever he wants. It’s not like your strong enough to even prevent him from doing stuff like this anyway. But it’s a different story when he asks you participate alongside with him.

“Please~” He begs and begs, and normally you really wouldn’t do it, you still can’t even believe that he would ask something like this in the first place! You, of all people!

“N-No, I don’t think this is appropriate...” You whispered, but your voice trails off as Cater leans in closer. This is bad, he had always been that one guy who mastered the ultimate puppy-eyes that could charm anyone to do whatever he wants! You were no exception to that charm, in fact, you’re very weak against it. However, to add more salt to your already damaged pride, it was this bitch’s birthday! What kind of person decides to ask for this as a birthday gift!?

But the fact that you’re actually in here, covering your eyes from the burning stare of the camera before you, it shows that you have caved in eventually.

Naked from head to toe, you sat on Cater’s lap with a flushed face with his hand roaming around you, groping any flesh that they could come in contact with. With what you assumed to be your face as red as a tomato, your hands carried the role of protecting your eyes and your lips quavered as you felt one of your breast getting fondled with your nipples rolling around his fingers. You gasped and moan but tries to keep it at a minimum, it proved to be a difficult task however, as Cater’s other hand were in between your legs. “Mm...Hey, (Y/N)-chan...You don’t have to be shy.” He whispered, but not before suckling on your neck to leave a bluish mark. He then grabbed your wrist, forcefully pulling them apart so you could see the shame in you. “If everyone can see you for what you are right now, then don’t you think you deserve to look at them too?”

Your eyes to twitched as Cater opened your legs to show your little dripping pussy to everyone. At the corner of your eyes, you can see the live comments from here scrolling up in an incredible pace and you dread to think that some of them may be someone you know. “See~? Everyone’s so excited!” Cater cheerfully said and you shivered as his hand moves to rub on your slit. “...And I don’t blame them. They’re not the only ones who’s excited about all of this after all.”

Looking down, you widened your eyes as you saw his dick just beneath you, excited and eager to enter your hole. “N-No way...” You said, glancing at Cater from behind in a nervous manner. “T-There’s no way...It can fit inside...”

Cater only gave you a close-eyed smile. “What are you talking about~? Of course, it will! We’ll make it work!” He said, which only made you gulp down. Holding you by both thighs, you squeaked as he began to position his cock right at your weeping entrance. You began to breathe heavily, feeling Cater leaning closer to you by the ear once again. He bit the shell of that same ear, making you shudder. “Just leave it all to Cay-kun~”

And with a hitched breath and a squeak from you, he lowered you down and you immediately felt his snake going up inside you. You yelped out, trying to get used to the overwhelming pressure on your stomach and covered your mouth with your eyes shut tight. It hurts, Cater was forcing his girth all inside, slowly but impatiently until a final moan from you sealed it all and finally sheathed himself inside. You feel light headed with how surreal it felt and just barely, you saw yourself in his computer monitor. Legs spread out with Cater’s cock in you, the comments were still as crazy as ever which just filled you with even more embarrassment.

“Ha...There you go, it’s not too bad, right?” Cater chuckled in your attempt to cover your heavy-breathing self. He gulped, nuzzling on the side of your neck. “It feels good, (Y/N)-chan. Just relax and I’ll do all the moving from here, okay?”

You didn’t respond, but anticipated the moment he moved instead. You squeaked as you felt your walls contract due to having a foreign object banging against it over and over again. As time went on however, the pain eases up little by little to the point that it doesn’t hurt as much as before anymore. It was uncomfortable, sure, but that was probably because you weren’t use to Cater’s movement yet. Which you don’t find possible actually, considering he’s been thrusting inside you faster and faster.

Soon, the feeling slowly transforms into that of a pleasing sensation, one that you fear may be the reason why people gets addicted to something. You can’t control your moans anymore, the cock banging on the entrance of your womb was just too stimulating that you can’t focus on anything else. “C-Cater...!” You moaned his name as you can feel a knot in your stomach. “E-Everyone...Everyone is...Watching...!”

“Mm, that’s right~! Everyone can see you right now!” Cater confirmed which didn’t help as you began to whimper, the embarrassment getting you close to tears. Cater laughed, easing your state as he gave you a hug, whilst continue on grinding his hips against you. “Aww, don’t worry, Baby~ They won’t judge you!”

“Come on, I’ll wipe those tears away for you. We can’t have your cute face all swollen now, right?” He said, grabbing your wrist and raising them up. “How about giving them a peace sign? You’re feeling good, aren’t you? You have to relay that to your audience!”

“P-Peace...Sign...?”

“That’s right...!” You yelped out, louder than usual as Cater pounded against you with an extra punch. You cried at the rough action, but it didn’t stop your senior from doing it again and not stopping. A few more times and it already got you rolling your eyes upward and your tongue out as he rearranges your gut. “Come on, do it! Everyone will love it, Darling!”

“Nngh...!” You whimpered, as you weakly pulled out both your fingers in a peace sign, just like he said. The comments boomed once again.

Cater laughed whole-heartedly, gripping your thighs tighter and spreading them for everyone to see how battered your pussy looks. Soon, you felt an intense orgasm bursting out of you, nearly soaking the camera but Cater continued on abusing your cunt. You moaned out loud, bouncing in a speed that reached beyond human comprehension. Widening your eyes, you felt as if Cater had finally reached his high and thrust so deep inside you that your breath knocks off. With that, you felt a huge flow inside you and realized that he had finally came into a release.

Exhausted, you practically collapsed limplessly into Cater’s arms, who holds you tightly with a cheerful smile on his face. “...W-Whew...” He said, panting and looked over at the monitor in which his audience were still actively watching. “That felt good, huh? I told you, it’s better to do it with everyone watching!”

You groaned, puffing your cheeks, you honestly couldn’t see his point at all. All you felt was shame. But then again, you really can’t imagine Cater of all people to have a speck of shame in him. He could only laugh as he continues to read the comments. “See? Everyone is saying how cute you are! That they’re jealous and wants to be with you too!” He said with a smile.

“T-That’s...” You paled, hoping that this senior of yours won’t actually think of selling you out.

“But too bad~!” However, Cater hugged you tight, with the same laid-back smile but somehow, this embrace felt a lot more possessive than usual. His eyes looked dead serious as well, and is practically glaring at the camera. “(Y/N)-chan is exclusive to only me. She’s already mine, so stay the hell away, Bastards.”

Widening your eyes at the scary show of affection you received, Cater went back to his happy-go-lucky attitude and waved at the camera. “Well then, thank you for watching!” He said, sticking out his tongue as if he was taunting his own audience.

At first glance, this doesn’t seem like a good idea at all, but now that you’ve actually tried it, you can finally conclude...That this still wasn’t a good idea after all.

Yeah...Yume has no idea how to run an OnlyFans account too.

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #cater diamond #yandere cater diamond #Birthday Crumbs (Cater)

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