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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

the same tv

words: 1.8k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected sex, p in v sex, parent death, funerals, robbery, redemption/forgiveness, addiction, drinking (wine, not like hard drinking), tickling, cockwarming, they call themselves kids at one point but at no point are reader or rafe under 18, like itll make sense once you read it in context

the first thing you do when you enter your house is kick off your shoes. the next is to stop holding back your tears as they stream down your face. you can't even sob anymore, just silent, steady tears.

you sigh as you look around the entryway. there's been some changes since you moved away, despite only being out of your parents house for a little over a year. they replaced the grand portrait that was of your mom's parents with one of you, now taking the place of honor.

you look away before you get to the rest of the family photos. you've seen enough at the funeral. you walk further in to the house, bare feet against the shiny wood floor.

you pause when you hear something further in. you haven't forgotten how the old house seemed to speak, groaning and settling during strong winds or when too many people were crammed between it's walls.

this sound seems different, but you're also occasionally sniffling, your ears are shot from blasting music in an attempt to distract yourself, so you shrug it off and walk further into the living room.

the sound suddenly makes sense as you see someone stood in your living room, arms holding up your parents flat screen television, awkwardly trying to carry it.

you aren't even mad. you honestly don't care about the tv. or the fact that someone is trying to rob you.

you let out a bitter laugh before you sink to the floor. “of fucking course this happens.” you are glad you still have your purse slung from your shoulder as you pull your wallet out, quite aggressively throwing it at the robber who has now frozen.

“what?” he questions, lowering the tv to the ground and pushing his hood of his head, a dumb move for someone currently committing a crime.

“this has been the worst week of my life and now you're robbing me. just my fucking luck…” you let out a broken sob. “just take whatever you want and leave.”

the only things that matter to you still in the house aren't actually worth anything anyways. the photos of your parents, your dad's cologne that's half empty, the oak tree that your childhood dog is buried next to.

“i thought the people who lived here died.”

you pick your head up, a look of fury overtaking your face.

“they did. they're my fucking parents! and now they're gone and you're fucking robbing me! get the fuck out!” you stand up, pushing at the robbers chest.

he looks familiar, like you should know who he is but can't place him.

“im-shit. im sorry.” he says, allowing you to shove him away and out the door.

“im really fucking sorry!” he yells again before you slam the door shut.

-- years later --

you park your car in the driveway instead of pulling it all the way into the garage like you know you should, but you need to know if you're correct about the man sitting on your front step.

“you're the kid that tried to rob me.” you say as you walk the sidewalk to the porch.

“yes.” he says, looking ashamed and a whole lot more grown up. “i was an addict and i owed a debt. my dad had just kicked me out of the house and i was on my own for the first time. it was stupid of me, but when i heard the people living here died, i thought it'd be a victimless crime.”

he sighs deeply, like even just thinking back to that time physically hurts. “i didn't even think that someone could have inherited the house. im so, so sorry.”

he swallows thickly. “my mom died when i was young. my dad- my dad just died recently. he faked his death and i got him back, but he's actually gone this time. you know what you said about the worst week in your life?”

you think back those years. it's mostly a blur, especially the days surrounding your parents car crash and funeral, but you do remember breaking down in front of the robber. you nod gently, waiting to hear the end of his speal.

“i know what you mean now. and im sorry i hurt you. im sorry about your parents dying.” he pulls something out of his pocket, extending his hand.

you look into his open palm, realizing it's a ornate gold necklace.

“no.” you shake your head. “you keep it. you don't need to bribe me to forgive you.”

“i want you to have it.” he says. “it's… it's not a lot, but it's something. something to help make up for what ive done.”

you reach forward, carefully taking the necklace out of his outstretched hand, carefully not to accidentally bump his skin.

“thank you.” you say, admiring the way the sun gleams off the metal.

“im rafe, by the way. rafe cameron.”

“y/n.” you respond, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“here, let me.” he takes it out of your hands, moving quicker than you can think as he steps around you. your hair is already up in a bun, so rafe is able to reach around and easily place the chain around your neck.

“thank you.” the weight of the necklace feels comfortable against your skin, like it's the last finishing touch you need. you are wearing your mother's earrings, your father's bracelet, and now you have the other piece of what made that time in your life so miserable, your robbers necklace.

“i… i guess ill be going now.” rafe says.

you turn and watch him walk away. you recognize so much of your former self in him, the clear grieving he's going through.

“are you sober now?” you call out before he reaches the end of your driveway.

“sober enough.” he shouts back. rafe doubts he'll ever truly be clean, but he can at least manage now, doesn't need the drugs like he used to.

“then come back for dinner tomorrow. we can talk.”

you can see the smile stretch over his features. “ill be there.”

-- three months later --

“shit.” rafe says, head snapping over to you. “this is the same tv.”

you giggle and nod, surprised it took him so long to realize. “i never really watch tv on the actual tv, so no need to replace it.” you shrug, the gold necklace still draped over your neck. you haven't taken it off except to shower and sleep.

“god, thats crazy.” rafe looks over to you. “imagine if we just talked back then.”

you shake your head. “you just think you want that because we get along now. we were both in bad places.”

“you don't think we would have been hooking up back then?” rafe asks, raising an eyebrow at you, watching the way your thighs press together at the mere mention of hooking up, already feeling the urge to sleep with rafe even after having sex only a couple of hours ago.

“we were two scared kids. if we were hooking up we definitely shouldn't have been.” you giggle, reaching your wine glass out for rafe to refill, which he is glad to pour a more than healthy amount in.

“and now?” rafe looks down at his lap.

“and now we are two slighty less scared slightly older kids.” you giggle again, taking a deep sip before leaning across the couch cushion to press a kiss to rafes cheek, the movie you had put on long forgotten.

“rafe.” you wait until he looks you in the eye. “im here for you.”

“god, what have i done to deserve you?” rafe wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you on top of him as he flops back onto the couch.

you let out a laugh before it's cut off with his lips. he kisses you heavily, hand against the back of your head, not allowing you to pull away, not that you want to.

you let himself get lost in your kiss. you wish you had someone to support you in the time you needed most, and you're determined to be that person for rafe now.

rafe easily dominates your mouth even though he's underneath you as you quickly work your shorts off, wiggling against him until your bottom half is nude.

you press against rafes crotch, still covered by his sweatpants. you feel his cock straining against the fabric as you rub your pussy against it, wetting the gray material.

“baby, please.” rafe groans. he would pull his cock out himself, but his hands are preoccupied holding you close to him as if his life depends on it.

“oh, now you don't like teasing?” you smile.

“alright, i deserve this.” rafe also manages a chuckle despite his straining erection. “but please. need to feel your pussy ‘round me.”

“alright.” you roll your eyes dramatically. you'll have to get revenge on rafe at a different time for edging you the other night.

you push his pants down his thighs until you're able to reach into his underwear and pull out his cock. you give him a few quick strokes before lining up your entrance and sinking down.

rafe let's out a moan, barely pulling his face away from yours. “you're so wet.”

“it's almost like i like you or something.” you roll your eyes.

rafe laughs before kissing you again, hand moving up to your hair, tangling his fingers between the strands.

you sit on his cock for a moment, adjusting, before beginning to move, up then down, up then down, subtle movements of your hips, not needing anything fast, wanting drawn out, wanting it to last.

the movie is long over by the time rafe finally cums, a hand finally moving down to rub your clit to make sure you get off at the same time as his.

by the time you're both satisfied, you're sweaty and exhausted. you don't even bother to pull off his cock as you rest your head against his chest.

“thank you.” rafe says softly, rubbing his hand over your back. you don't need to ask what for. you know. for being there. you'll always be there.

you look up at him, a small smile on your face. “how are we gonna tell people we met?”

things are quickly getting serious, and while he hasn't breached the subject with you yet, neither of you have been hiding how quickly you're falling.

“what, you think it's a problem that we met when i was robbing you?” rafe says, making you giggle, only intensified by his hand pressing into your side, fingers tickling you as you howl with laughter.

rafe flips you over onto your back so you're underneath him, keeping his cock pushed inside of you.

“maybe we should just tell people we met on tinder.” rafe shrugs.

you roll your eyes. “somehow that's more embarrassing.”

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janeyseymour · 3 months

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Love Thy Neighbor- pt 6

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5.

Summary: Ellie's sick. Cue Melissa to jump in to help.

WC: ~2.7k

Over the past few months, the way that the redhead has made herself present in your life has only gotten stronger. She’s with you in the morning for breakfast, during the drive to and from school, she shows up when you need help with school work, there when you just need some adult time. She’s there for Ellie when she needs help with homework, wants to cuddle but you’re busy, there when she’s excited or sleepy, has had a nightmare and she’s with you on the couch, shows up when her dance class has a parent night… she’s just there. She always is.

But you still don’t want to ruin what you have going on. Life is easy and nice right now with her… if you two decide to date and it falls apart, she’s gone. Or you’re gone. You suppose that if it were all to go up in flames, this is her apartment complex, Abbott is her school, the coworkers that you’ve become friendly with are hers. The only thing that you would get out of a breakup with the redhead is your daughter. And even then, you’re fairly certain at this point that Ellie would be more devastated about not seeing Melissa than she is about the absence of her father. So you haven’t done anything about it yet.

But that’s about to change… not that you know it.

Ellie’s been sniffling a lot lately, but you’ve just contributed it to the fact that the seasons are changing, you have allergies, her father has allergies… so naturally she should have inherited your seasonal allergies. You don’t realize that she’s picked up what seems to be making its way through Barbara’s classroom.

Your daughter is currently putting up the biggest fight of her life. She does not want to go to school, which is so unusual for her. She’s flat out refusing to eat the breakfast that Melissa made, she’s sticking her nose up at every sweater for her to put over her uniform that you try to show her, and she bursts into tears when you tell her that she can’t bring her stuffy to school with her because it isn’t a stuffy day.

“Elizabeth,” you sigh. You’re slowly starting to lose your patience. “Come on. We have to go to school today.”

“Why?! Other kids are not coming in because they’re sick!”

“Because you aren’t sick, baby,” you tell her as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “Now please. We have to be out the door in ten minutes, and Momma isn’t ready for school yet.” You suppose you’ll have to do your makeup in the car while your neighbor drives in to the school.

“I don’t feel good though,” she whines.

At that, you soften. You place the back of your hand on her forehead, cheeks, and the back of her neck. She’s a little warm, but it’s nothing to be worried over.

“I’m sorry, lovey,” you sigh. “You just have to make it through today, and then when we get home tonight, we can cuddle.”

As you’re leaving the house, you throw a few tylenol in your bag for Ellie if she needs it throughout the day.

The girl clings to Melissa as soon as she’s back in your apartment, and the redhead does everything she can to try to get Ellie to smile- it doesn’t work. She just lays her head on the woman’s shoulder and sighs heavily.

You’re able to get your daughter into the school, and by then her cheeks are a little flushed. But she did fall asleep during the short car ride over, so you think that the red on her right cheek is from where her seatbelt was.

Ellie stays in Melissa’s lap during the morning news, and when it’s time for her to go with Barbara down to the classroom, the water works start again.

Melissa hands your daughter over to her kindergarten teacher with a shrug. You kiss Ellie’s temple gently, telling her to have a good day, before you and the redhead are making your way down to your wing.

“What’s got pipsqueak so upset today?” your colleague asks quietly.

You bite your lip. “She isn’t feeling well I don’t think.”

She frowns. “Poor thing. Shouldn’t she be home? Or with your parents resting?”

“My parents are galavanting around Europe right now,” you huff. “Or she would be.”

“You could’ve taken off today to keep her home.”

You roll your eyes. “We are so short on subs lately, and I don’t need to have Mr. Johnson as my sub if I can help it.”

“Fair point,” Melissa chuckles. “Last time he was my sub, the kids came in the next day telling me all about the fourth dimension.”

It’s only about 9:30 when your classroom phone rings. It’s Barbara, so you tell your kids to work on the next math problem before answering it.

“Ellie still hasn’t calmed down,” the kindergarten teacher tells you quickly. “I’m not quite sure what else to do. I gave her stickers, I gave her hugs, I told her she could hold one of my stuffed animals…”

“I’m so sorry Barb,” you apologize.

“She should be home, Y/N,” the woman tells you sternly.

You breathe out. “I know… but I don’t have sub plans or a sub, and my parents aren’t around to come pick her up.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe just send her down to the nurse so she can sleep on the cots?” you suggest. “I’ll call down and tell them the situation.”

The veteran teacher agrees and hangs up. You dial the nurse and beg her to let Ellie stay down there for the day while you teach. She begrudgingly agrees after you promise you’ll make her a key lime pie as payment.

Your prep comes faster than you really expect it to, and you line your kids up to take them down to the music room as Melissa is lining her kids up to take her class to gym.

“I can come to your room once I drop them,” the redhead tells you.

“You can, but I won’t be there,” you sigh as you fall into step with her. “I have to head down to the nurse’s office.”

“Ellie still isn’t feeling well?”

The two of you head into the nurse’s office, and the woman behind her desk doesn’t look very pleased with you. Ellie is laying on one of the cots crying.

“Oh, sweetness.” Your heart breaks at her little sniffles. As you pull her into your arms, you immediately feel how hot she is, but she’s trembling as if she’s standing out in the snow without her winter coat on.

“Momma,” she cries. “I’m so chilly!”

You immediately take your sweater off and drape it around her, pulling it tightly to her body. It seems to help, but she’s still cold despite the sweat forming around her brow.

“Kid’s been crying since she got here,” the nurse tells you. “Fever of 101. She should not be here.”

“I know, I know,” you mutter. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll make you a meatloaf as payment for having her down here,” Melissa tells the woman as she too shrugs off her blazer and gives it to your daughter.

“Miss Mel,” your daughter reaches for the redhead immediately.

“I’m here, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher says softly, but doesn’t take your daughter out of your arms. Ellie squirms, and while you try to fight the hurt on your face, it doesn’t quite work. “Stay with your momma, hun.”

“But I want you,” your daughter mumbles as a tear falls down her face. You hand her over.

“I should probably get some work done anyway,” you shrug. You start to head out of the nurse’s office, but the redhead follows.

“I thought we were going to work on your lesson plans,” she says softly, Ellie on her hip.

You shrug. “I can always get some other stuff done.”

The two of you work quietly in your room, Ellie clinging to the redhead and falling asleep rather quickly.

Your preps are over far sooner than desired, but such is life. When you look up from your teacher’s manual, Ellie is fast asleep in Melissa’s lap.

“Shit.”

“She’s fine,” the second grade teacher promises. She stands and starts to make her way down towards the gym.

You chase after her. “Mel, she has to go back to-”

“I can teach with her,” the redhead tells you. “It’ll probably keep my kids in line better than they would be if I wasn’t holding a small, sick child anyway.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” you argue back.

She waves you off. “You didn’t, I’m just doing it. And if it becomes too much, she can lay on my carpet with the bean bag and sleep there.”

“You’re going to get-”

“I’ve been teaching for years now,” she laughs. “My immune system is made of steel at this point. Don’t even worry about me. Just go get your kids and teach. We’ll see you at lunch.”

You watch as she makes her way down to the gym, Elizabeth in her arms and snoring softly. You see her press a delicate kiss to the girl’s sweaty hairline before smiling at her gently. The eyes that she’s looking at your daughter with are full of love and no selfishness in the slightest. If you weren’t sure before, you are now. Melissa is worth all of the risks in the world. You turn on your heel to pick up your kids from the music room.

Come lunch time, the redhead still has your daughter on her hip, and your heart swoons at the sight. The badass, mob-like teacher is just so soft and gentle with your little girl. Ellie is awake now, but she keeps her head resting in the crook of Melissa’s neck. As the two of you walk your kids to the lunchroom, Ellie waves at you sleepily.

“No sleeping again yet,” Melissa tuts quietly. “We have to make sure your belly is full and you drink some water before you nap again.”

“Mhmm,” your girl hums out sleepily.

Ellie spends the entirety of your lunch period wrapped up in your sweater and Melissa’s blazer curled up in your lap. You just barely get her to eat, but when Melissa attempts to get her to eat, she does so easily.

The rest of your friend group spends the period quietly, watching as the redhead handles your daughter with such a maternal warmth that they’ve never quite seen from her before. And when Ellie falls back asleep in your hold from your gentle rocking her, they fall silent at the steely gaze Melissa gives them.

Ellie lets out a small whine for the redhead when you stand to pick your kids back up, and Melissa just takes her back into her arms with a wave of the hand.

“Pipsqueak’s been a good human heater for me,” she chuckles before glancing at your daughter. “Isn’t that right?”

The six year old nods into her shoulder before turning her head and blowing you a tired kiss.

“Only a couple more hours, and then you can curl up at home with your momma, okay hun?” she tries to assure the little girl.

“And you?”

“And me, if you want.”

“Yes, please,” Ellie requests softly.

At the end of the day, you make your way outside to help monitor dismissal alongside your neighbor. Ellie is still in her arms and fast asleep. She’s been asleep on the redhead for quite some time if the rather large wet spot on Melissa’s shoulder is any indication.

“My poor little girl,” you sigh as you brush a few hairs away from your daughter’s face. You kiss her head gently.

“She’s been out for a while,” Melissa tells you quietly. “But let me tell you, my kids have never been more well behaved.”

“You’ve been holding her since lunch?!”

“I tried to set her down on the carpet, and she stayed there for about five minutes before coming back over to me and begging me to hold her because she was cold. I just taught from my desk.”

“You could’ve sent her over to me,” you tell your coworker.

She shrugs. “I didn’t mind having the little one with me.”

Ellie stays asleep throughout dismissal and the drive home. When Melissa pulls into the parking garage at your complex, you grab your things and collect your daughter before turning back to walk in with the redhead. She’s still in the driver’s seat though.

“Go in. I have to run to the grocery store if I’m going to make my Nonna’s chicken noodle soup for the two of you.”

“I can make-”

“Trust me when I tell you this stuff will have El healed in no time flat, and you’re going to want it for when you get sick too,” your neighbor tells you. “I’ll be over once I’m back.”

You head in and settle yourself on the couch. Ellie lays on top of you, fast asleep and shivering. You kiss her forehead before reaching for the remote to turn on the television. There’s no way you’re going to get any work done tonight- you have to step up and be the mother for your daughter you always promised you would be.

The little girl only stirs when there’s a gentle knock on your front door, followed by the redhead stepping into your house and heading for the kitchen.

“Miss Mel?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, baby,” you whisper back. “She’s making you soup so you can feel better.”

“I love Miss Mel,” she sighs quietly as she cuddles back into your hold.

You smile. “I do too.”

The woman brings three bowls of soup into the living room, along with two mugs of hot tea and some juice for Ellie, before settling on the couch next to you. The soup is amazing- not that you expected anything else.

When dinner is over, you give your daughter a bit of cold medicine, hoping she’ll feel better in the morning. She demands cuddles from both you and Melissa, but she’s quick to fall back asleep once she’s situated between the two of you. That leaves you and the redhead to chat about your days and have a bit of adult time. You know that you want to approach the situation at hand- the obvious feelings that she has for you and the feelings that you have for her.

“Why are you doing all this?” you finally ask.

“Doing what?” she raises a brow.

You gesture broadly. “All of this: helping us adjust to a new life, being here for Ellie, helping me get a job and then mentoring me, cooking us dinner… for heaven’s sake, you’re taking care of my child while she’s sick.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she shrugs.

At that, you sigh. “Because I kind of expected to you hate me and stop coming over after I told you that us might never happen.”

“I could never hate you. I’d rather have you as a friend in my life than nothing at all,” she says softly as she places a hand over your own. “Besides,” she chuckles. “It’d be pretty awkward seeing each other at work and when we’re running in and out of the apartment if we stopped talking.”

You laugh softly. “Yeah.”

“And I think Ellie and I are something of kindred spirits,” the redhead says as she looks down at your slumbering daughter. “I couldn’t just leave her high and dry.”

You smile. “She’s a special one.”

“She is.”

“So are you,” you look at her with a soft gaze.

She rolls her eyes playfully. “I ain’t nothin’ special, hun.”

“You are,” you whisper as you squeeze her hand in your own. “So special.”

She rolls those striking green eyes again and turns her attention back to the television.

“Hey.” Melissa looks back to you, and you squeeze her hand again. “Special enough for me to throw caution to the wind and do this.” You press your lips to hers softly.

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

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concert, part 1

part 1 here (cw: age gap)

👑 (king): can I come pick you up? Me: yeah, sure, I’m almost ready 👑 (king): good, be there in 10

I look down at his text, smiling to myself, then I get myself ready. Checking my makeup, checking if I have everything in my little bag. Then I wait for him, nervously tapping my foot, thinking about our interactions over the last week.

I haven't seen him since the bar, we've just been texting and my god. He isn’t the biggest texter, but he never fails to answer a single one of my messages. Setting a new standard for sure.

My first message he answered within five minutes, making it a deal and asking me for the details on the concert. And then I had to send him all of my favourite songs, not just by Lorna Shore, but all the bands I talked about that he didn’t yet know. We were just talking about all the topics we could think about.

Like I wanted to know what accent it was that laced through his words when talking English and he told me that he actually was from Austria. I’ve never met someone who was from this country, so naturally I was curious. Especially why he lived here then and didn’t go back to Austria for his leave, which he just answered with a simple “I don’t have anything to go back to.” I didn’t want to pry, so I left it at that.

And he asked me what I did for a living and all my little hobbies. I could talk about those all day long, so there was a lot of back and forth (maybe a little bit more back from me than it was forth from him). I still was curious about his job as well, but I was too afraid to be called nosy again.

By the third day I got confident enough to accompany my messages with pictures. And no, not that kind of pictures. I just snap moments during my day and just them to him. My morning coffee, some scenery from my commute, a screengrab from the game I’m playing in the evening. Because I want to show what’s going on during my day.

It’s nice. It feels nice to talk to him. And we’re still kind of shy, holding back, but some of the texts even get flirty. My favourite thing to do during last week was to call him old every chance I got. Just to get a rise out of him.

I can’t help but feel that the last message has a double entendre. Like I should be the one worrying about keeping up. With him.

The doorbell rings and I go to open my door. It swings open and I almost rear back when his hulking figure towers over me. My god, I have forgotten how huge he is. I mean, I only saw it once when he got up from the table.

He's wearing the same worn leatherjacket and a shirt underneath. A Lorna Shore shirt. He got it right on time for the concert. I know because he sent me a picture when the package arrived.

"Hi.", I say looking up at him.

"Hi yourself.", he answers with a smile. "Looking good."

"Thanks.", I say as I do a little twirl for him, my skirt swaying while I do the turn. When I land on my two feet again, my DocMartens stomping onto the floor, I see his gaze wander up my body.

His lids are hooded, his mouth is slightly opened and I can see the row of strong teeth blink through. Our eyes meet and I feel a zap of excitement running down my spine. It just got harder to breathe. Because he looks at me like I would taste good. It’s actually making me a bit nervous. And I don’t think anybody ever looked at me like that.

“What?”, I throw in his direction, swaying from one foot to the other.

"Nothing…” is all he says, shaking his head. But it doesn’t feel like nothing. “Come on, let's get going. You have the tickets?", he asks.

I point at the little bag clasped to my belt. "Got everything in here." He nods and gestures me to exit the flat. I do so and lock the door behind me, following him down to the street where his car is parked.

It’s a Mercedes G-wagon. A fucking G-wagon. I don’t know which car I suspected, but I guess not this one. Although it makes sense when I see him right next to it. The kind of military look of the car, the colour (black, of course), it being quite an expensive brand, but also an older model, judging from the wear on the outside. Also a spacious enough car for a big man like him.

He stops at the passenger side and opens the door for me. And I can't help but melt a little. The gentlemanly gesture with him looking just like he looks. The big stature, the worn leatherjacket with the tattooed hands showing, the slight aura of danger around him that makes much more sense since I know he’s a soldier, that part of him not fully vanishing even when he’s on leave. The timid smile he gives me when I thank him for holding the door open for me emphasizing the contrast between his hard looking exterior and the softer core.

He waits for me to climb up into the seat, shutting the door for me and going around the car, to the driver's side. I snuggle into the leather of the car seat and look around a bit. His scent engulfs me, a warm, manly note, and I suppress a sigh. This man is just too much, and I'm going to a concert with him.

He gets in and starts the car which also turns on the sound system and a flurry of guitar sounds, drums and the distinguished voice of Chuck Schuldiner blasts from the speakers. I recognize the song instantly. "Oh, I love Spirit Crusher. The whole album actually."

He grins at me. "I thought so, that's why I put it on." He hands me the CD sleeve. "I bought this when I was like... maybe 16 or 17?"

"Oh my god, really?", I exclaim, inspecting the case. I turn to him pointing at the release date on the back, a mischievous grin forming on my lips. "That's the year I was born."

He sighs and rolls his eyes, snatching the CD case from me. "Yeah, yeah, we've already established that I'm old, ancient even." I bite back a laugh, doing a bad job at it. He leans forward, inching closer to my face. “Now what’s so funny, huh?”

I shake my head still grinning. “Nothing.” I pause for effect. “Old man.”, I add teasingly.

His gaze is burning into me. “Uh-huh, ain’t that right.” The slightly threatening undertone is not lost on me and it makes me shift in my seat.

He doesn’t say anything else, just pulls out of the parking space, and drives us to the concert location. The atmosphere gets a little bit more relaxed when he asks me about how work has been today (because we haven’t texted about that yet). I go on a rant because work really has been kicking my ass lately and my boss keeps getting on my nerves. So the car ride to the venue is filled with me explaining all of the details of what’s going on which would’ve have been too much to type out.

I’m still complaining about my boss’s antics when we enter the tall concert building. I show our tickets to the security guys at the entrance and they check us for stuff that you can’t bring into the venue. Well, they check me without hesitation, the security lady patting me down and taking a look into the little bag I have with me.

The security guy that has the pleasure of checking him hesitates for more than just a bit and I can see the little grin on König’s face as he’s towering over him, almost a head taller, and looking the most intimidating I’ve seen him yet.

“Don’t worry, he doesn't bite.”, I joke with the security guard who rolls his eyes, but finally goes to pat down the big guy.

König’s grin turns mischievous, looking down at him while he’s being checked. “Only if asked to.”, he says, glancing at me. And then he fucking winks. And I almost trip over my own feet. I steady myself, going down the stairs, taking a deep breath to calm myself down. Because that planted an image in my head I wasn’t ready for.

He catches up to me. “I’ll drop my jacket off and then we can get a beer?”, he suggests and I nod, following his lead. His hand drops to the small of my back, guiding me as we maneuver through the crowds of people. And I try to ignore how this light touch is making me feel.

We get in line at the bar and something I wanted to talk to him about burns at the tip of my tongue. Especially now that I’ve seen the expression on his face when somebody pushes past me, accidently brushing against me.

“Can you promise me something?”, I ask, putting on my nicest face to heighten the chances of him agreeing to it.

His lips curl into a sly smile when he sees the way I’m looking at him. “That depends on what you want me to promise.”

“Please don't stomp on any of the people if they bump into me.”, I tell him.

“Hm, I don't know if I can promise that.”, he answers with an honest tone in his voice, but the mischief in his eyes is telling a different story. “I have to look out for my concert companion, don’t I?”

“Well, can you at least leave them in one piece? I wanna leave the concert a free woman and not an accomplice to murder.”, I explain, not even taking myself seriously.

He laughs. “I think, we can arrange that.” He playfully nudges me with his arm and I almost topple over because I didn’t expect that. An “Oh shit” drops from his lips while his hands reach for my waist to steady me, and my first reaction is to hold onto him. His arm to be exact. My fingers grab onto his lower arms and I can feel the strong cords of muscle beneath my fingertips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“, he says.

I shake my head, interrupting him. “Don’t apologize, it takes more to break me.” Which sounds completely wrong and dirty in my mind, now that I think about it. But the sentence already left my lips. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel his heated gaze on me, even when I don’t look up at him, still holding onto his arm when we reach the front of the line. Ordering beers that he pays for, just like we agreed to. I snatch up the two glasses and head to a quieter corner.

König isn't a big talker, although he seems more relaxed now, so it's still mostly me yapping about stuff that comes to my mind while we wait for the concert to start, him asking questions in between, nodding along, listening, and sipping his beer.

"I'm sorry, I feel like I’m talking too much.", I finally interrupt myself, smiling up at him apologetically.

He shakes his head. "No, it's fine, don't worry about it. I like hearing you talk." And his words make me blush and actually shut up for a brief moment where I can just smile into my beer and bask in the compliment.

“I think they’re starting soon, you want to go in?”, he asks me, smiling down at me.

“Yes, we can do that.”, I nod and we make our way into the hall. It’s already packed, but with König it’s easy because the crowd parts, looking up at the tall man when he passes. We find a spot that’s more in the back of the room, so he doesn’t obstruct the view of too many people.

I stand right in front of him, looking up at him, to see him scanning the people around us, observing every little bit that’s going on. His arm wraps around my waist, in theory a small little gesture. But his touch makes me light up, his fingertips softly digging into my hips. His fingers stroking ever so slightly, skimming over the fabric of my skirt, seemingly not even thinking about it. And I take the chance to lean myself against him, feigning the same innocence as he does.

Suddenly, the symphonic part of 'Welcome Back, O’ Sleeping Dreamer' starts playing over the speaker and the concert begins. I smile up at him and jump up and down all excited, pulling at his shirt to get his reaction. He laughs, even though I don’t hear the sound because the whole room erupts in cheers and shouts, only getting louder when the band comes on stage and the drums and guitars set in.

I get the impression that he’s enjoying it as well and the smile on my face gets even wider when he starts headbanging with the crowd. And it makes me happy to see him like that. The music sweeps me up and carries me away and I start to move with the harsh sounds blasting from the speakers.

What I don't know or see is the way he's looking at me when I scream the lyrics from the top of my lungs. How mesmerized he seems when I jump and mosh to the next song, dancing without a care in the world. How my wild and energetic euphoria of being at a concert infects him, even if he's still being a bit self-conscious.

It's been a long time since he actually has been to a concert. And he hasn't been all too sure why he even offered to go with me other than seizing the opportunity to see me again. But right now, standing in the crowd experiencing the thrill of live music once again, he remembers why he enjoyed it so much when he was younger.

to be continued - the concert is not over yet!

part 3 or more stuff in the Masterlist

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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rosewould · 3 months

Text

pit stop; cyj

🖊️⇝ pairing; afab, blk!reader x yeonjun

🖊️⇝ word count; 8.3k

🖊️⇝ genre; friends 2 lovers, smut, fluff, & light angst

🖊️⇝synopsis; you should probably buy a lottery ticket with how luck you are when it comes to running into celebrities... despite just moving to a new country

🖊️⇝ warnings; very cliche "forbidden love w/ an idol" trope, end is unedited, mc thirsting heavily for mingi, heat of the moment sex, PIV, unprotected sex (mc is on bc), creampie, squirting, cum eating, cunnilingus, overstimulation, slight posessiveness, mc has faux locs at one point

📜⇝ HAPPY BHM!!!!! Would you believe me if I said I started this last BHM? :D Anyways if you're not a black woman you should still read this because it slaps. It would've been even better if I managed to post during valentine's day too.

There are many things that can go wrong in a foreign country all on your own, but for your own health, you push them to the wayside. Maybe you pushed them too far because now you’re stranded with a flat tire miles away from where you’ll be staying. It’s only your first day and you already managed to fuck it up. You have to commend your ability to surprise yourself even after all these years.

You don’t have a local SIM card and your phone is completely off. You should’ve listened to the internet when they gave you a long list of how to prepare your phone when moving abroad. Now it’s useless. You laugh humorlessly as the odds continue to stack against you. Do people stop for hitchhikers in Korea?

You try anyway, you know enough Korean to give them an idea of how to help you. Many cars slow down but zero cars stop. Some even roll down their windows to stare into your eyes as they leave you stranded. You don’t have proof, but you swear one of them took a picture. You can’t be appalled by their actions, it’s not like you came from the most friendly country anyway.

“Come on, people. Just a little slack. Cut me just a little.” You murmur desperately, forcing a strained smile as you wave down another car. It’s another window roller that leaves you behind. You suppose it must be a strange sight. And maybe they’re worried you don’t speak Korean. There you go again, waving any worrying conclusions away. Don’t wanna prove your family right.

Then comes yet another car slowing down. Except, this one is slowing to a stop. It’s a flashy car, much flashier than anything you’ve seen thus far. You don’t know much about cars, but you know the person you see once the window rolls down must be well off. He peeks at you with intrigue and a bit of amusement, his sly vibe fitting for his fox-like features.

“Need help?”

You nearly collapse to your knees in relief. Not only is he stopping to help you but he can speak English so you don’t have to embarrass yourself. “Yes! My car has a flat. My phone doesn’t work, I just need car… service… people.” God, can you speak English? You’re already huffing, looking really weird to this handsome rich man and the other handsome rich man in the passenger seat.

“Are you a MOA?” Yet another man pokes his head out from the backseat to peek at you. His eyes are critical despite their roundness. He raises his eyebrows in a way that makes you think there’s a wrong answer. Your brain is already overworked for the day so you answer honestly. “I’m sorry, I have no clue what that is.”

Assuming you can’t understand, he mumbles “leave her” in Korean and slinks back into the backseat.

“I’ll call the car service people for you.” The driver smirks and you can tell he’s making fun of you. You just force a smile and thank the man before retreating back into your car. Shut inside the one space familiar to you feels like finally getting a moment to breathe and reflect. This is just a little hiccup. Soon you’ll be at your new home and next week you’ll be working again.

You were consumed in a book whenever help arrives, and lifting your head, you notice that flashy car is still there.

Luckily enough, the maintenance truck had an inflated spare available and you were on your way, but not before thanking the driver. As you approach he rolls the window down again before leaning his arm on the door.

“Thank you so much, I’m not sure how long I would’ve been out here if you didn’t help me.” You sigh. You weren’t sure what you could offer him to express your gratitude, you were pretty useless as of now.

“It’s no problem. The least I can ask for is that you don’t tell anyone you saw us here.”

You have trouble keeping a smile on your face as a hint of dread sets in. Why wouldn’t they be allowed in the countryside? Were they criminals? Is this a common location for crime?

“I know you don’t know us yet, but in case you find out from the internet, just keep this between us.”

You did not find out from the internet. You found out eight days later when you saw a cardboard cut out of the driver in the mall. Holding up a makeup product he didn’t need with a smile that almost hides the eternal mischief hidden in his expression both times you’ve seen him. This whole time you thought they were notorious criminals and you were going to get booked before you even stepped foot at home. But no, the nice car was from them being idols, not criminals.

Maybe you were a bit in the dark about k-pop idols, but why weren’t they allowed to drive around? You hold that thought, possibly forever because you had just experienced a pretty rare occurrence so early into your move.

-🖊️⇝

Tonight was your first office party since your move. Your boss saved up to rent out a hotel venue and even scored you and your coworkers rooms for the night. Less risky without the threat of drunk driving or getting kidnapped you guess.

“I could only book the ballroom today, so I’m sorry but you can’t wander around. You can only go in this room and the floor where your rooms are located. There’s a celebrity staying here and the hotel is pretty much on lockdown.”

Your coworkers immediately get to gossiping about who’s here and all you can do is marvel at the odds. There was no way you’d be meeting another celebrity. The odds are even more unfathomable than you previously thought. You break the rules on accident, drunkenly tapping the wrong floor number. Your eyes are closed when you stumble out and run into someone tall.

“Um, this floor is… off limits.” The man grabs you by your shoulders and holds you at arm's length. Your head lolls back and you get a good look at the guy and he, in turn, gets a glimpse of you. His jaw drops open and he looks over to the other men behind him. Your brain had been too debilitated to translate Korean.

“Hey! Are you that girl? Flat tire?” A familiar voice rings out and snaps you from your daze and you attempt to hold your head up straight. “Yeah! Car service people!” The driver whose name you’re sure starts with a Y says excitedly. Again with the mischief, sticking its pesky little head out more confidently with the teasing nickname.

“No way it’s you guys again.” You chuckle drowsily.

“Yes way!” The blond man lets go of your shoulders.

“Are you a MOA yet?” It was the one from the backseat asking the same question yet again. It completely slipped your mind to figure out what that meant.

“I still have no idea what that is.” You flash a tight smile as he narrows his eyes at you. One of the two you haven’t spoken to yet says something frantically to the others in Korean before they all turn to look at you.

“Hey… do you want some water?” Y approaches you, speaking almost like he’s about to sell you something. Your eyes roll back, your urge to rest almost winning the fight.

“I want to go to sleep.”

“Let’s get you some water!” The blond one says enthusiastically before ushering you into a door down the hall. They talk to each other as you gulp down a cold bottle of water, slumped in the living chair they frantically cleared for you. This would help with your hangover tomorrow anyway. After they deliberate with themselves Y turns to you.

“Is your party still happening?” He kneels before you, talking to you like a lost child.

“Yeah, I left early.”

“Great! We were gonna sneak down there ourselves, but you going back would be easier.”

“You want me to go back?” You barely swallow your water before you ask. “Yeah. All we were given was fruit. We can’t survive on fruit and the food smells so good.” He pleads with his eyes before the blond chips in.

“Please? We’re hungry.”

Downing your second bottle, you look at them warily as your mind sobers up. “You guys are famous. Can’t you just get room service?”

“No, we’re banned from it. They told the hotel not to serve us.” The black-haired one who looks to be the tallest or close to it pipes in. Much too massive for his youthful vibe.

You look at each pair of puppy eyes incredulously. “So they’re starving you?”

Yeonjun is quick to clear the air, starting to explain again that they had fruit before Mr. MOA interrupts him. “Yes!! We’re starving!” His whining is cut off by the blond scolding him.

“What are your names?” You ask once you realize you have no idea.

You learn each of their names and each of the food items they want brought to them. You have five styrofoam containers filled to the brim in both arms as you board the elevator. You’re aware they’re exaggerating, but concern for them still flares up. They were pretty thin, and you’ve heard whispers of their insane diets. But you do what you do best. They seem fine, and they wouldn’t have the energy they’re exhibiting currently if something was wrong.

Thankfully, no one was on there with you. That is, until you see that someone had pressed the button from your floor. You stand there awkwardly as your coworker looks at you like you have five heads. Then he sees that you’ve pressed the button for a forbidden floor.

“K-pop fan?”

You sigh, shifting the containers in your hands. “No. I’m acting as a food delivery service.”

“Ah.” He doesn’t press you, nor will he say anything. None of your coworkers are the type. The idols are waiting impatiently by the elevator when the door opens, hurriedly unloading each container.

How you ended up with five grown men in your hotel room was really a blur. Apparently their manager might walk in and bust them if they stay in their room. “We’ll be quick!” They promised.

Now Beomgyu and Kai are napping on your bed while you lean against the wall. Yeonjun’s eating whatever is left over in the living chair in the corner, smiling happily at you.

“I love you. I could kiss you.” He manages with his cheeks full of food.

You give him a tight smile, familiar with his habitual attempts to fluster you by now. “That’s not necessary. Your manager is probably looking for you guys.”

“Nah. We’re allowed to wander around as long as we’re in our room before 1 am. Today was our last day.” You chew on his words as he chews on the remnants of his food. He swallows hard, forcing what seems to be a painfully large chunk of food down his throat. Food seems to placate his teasing disposition, a thought that makes you cover your mouth to conceal your smirk. It takes a moment for him to recuperate before he speaks again.

"What do you wanna do right now?" He narrows his eyes, pointing his plastic cutlery at you.

You’re not sure what he means exactly, even after taking a moment to let your eyes flit around the room. So you do what you usually do, shrug and be honest. "Around this time I'd be playing some game until my eyes are painfully dry."

He halts mid container disposal to peer at you excitedly. "You play video games? Which ones?"

Finally, something you were a natural at talking about. "I like games like Minecraft or Rust, but I dabble in FPS games too-" You get caught up in one of your favorite conversation topics, surprised when Yeonjun dumps his trash quickly before marching over to you and taking your hands.

"Oh please tell me you play Valorant."

"Yeah, like I said, I dabble-"

"Okay, I'm really gonna kiss you."

“Don’t you dare-” Your words are cut off by a chaotic mixture of a gasp and laugh when he pokes his lips out, leaning in slowly. He unpuckers his lips and they settle into a smirk. The realization of how close you are to each other sets in and brings about a strong flow of energy between you two. You shake his hands off yours and shove him away, forcibly resuming your playful aura. He laughs, widening his eyes once it dies down.

“Oh, I cannot wait to kick your ass.” He points, eyes posing as a warning. You huff as you pick up a towel. You sling it over your shoulder before raising your eyebrows at him. “Is that a bet or a promise?”

And to think if your office party was planned even a day later, you would’ve probably never seen them again. Yeonjun nabs your phone while you were in the bathroom, sticking his number in there. The first important milestone of your relationship with the boys was being added to their group chat. Then you visited their dorms and them, your apartment. You weren’t aware of the transition, you just looked up and it felt natural to be around each other.

“___’s on!” Yeonjun cheers through your headset. He pauses once you turn on your webcam. “You found a hairstylist?”

“Yeah. Turns out there are black ones here. I never knew.” You reply, half paying attention as you adjust your camera.

“I know there’s a Korean name for that style but I feel like it’s… not correct. What’s it called in English?”

“Locs! Do you like ‘em?” You comb your fingers through each loc, careful not to tug at your tender scalp. “They fit you so well I forgot how you looked before.” He says as if he’s shocked by his own accuracy.

“You’re so right. I should’ve popped out the womb with locs.” You chuckle to yourself, unable to stop playing with your hair. Yeonjun has that look on his face like he’s about to smart-mouth you. “Locs and not wounding your own teammates would’ve been really handy.” He tries to quip quickly in an attempt to fly under your radar.

Your smile is immediately wiped off your face. “It was an off day for me, how many times do we have to go over this?”

“Next time your favorite character dies don’t come online.”

“I knew I should’ve hung out with Taehyun today.” You transition from excitement to insults like it's nothing. These boys definitely make it easy.

“Yeah, whatever. Are you coming to Mingi’s party next week or do you have work.” He says as if the word itself affronted him. New names were constantly thrown at you. You took a break from researching and watching videos because it was just too much.

“Why are you always so offended by my job? And I’ll see if I can make it.”

It makes it even harder to consume content about these idols when you think of what they go through. From these five alone, you can tell how hungry these idols are to be in this position. They put up with so much and you can’t help thinking their companies take advantage of that.

“You know, you never told me why you weren’t allowed to drive around the day we met.”

An effortless transition is made again as Yeonjun sets aside his teasing. “We have a lot of rules. Like, a lot. It’s no problem, we all knew what we were signing up for pretty much. It feels kinda pointless to go through all that work just to get in trouble, so we hold each other accountable.”

“I’m guessing that’s not counting the hotel food heist?” You bring up with a snort. It feels a little silly to make an exception for food.

“That was a small rule, and we just finished the final concert of a very tiring tour. The day we met I rented a car after a full month of grueling practice hours with little to no sleep. We were hysterical. So we took a ride.”

The boys seem alright. They’re full of life most days and with no context, you would have no idea what they’re going through. He informs you that this party is another one of those exceptions. There are secret parties thrown constantly but it was reckless to go without thorough planning. You like the thought of them getting a proper break and they really want you to come, so you do what you never do: call in fake sick to work.

But not before attempting a little research. Perhaps a different approach would help. You’re picking at scraps since you only have one internet friend who likes kpop. What if they never heard of him?

___: Y’all who is Mingi

You sent out the tweet before you went to sleep. You had just gotten your ass handed to you on Valorant so you didn’t feel like being let down that same night. You woke up to more notifications you’ve seen on all your social media accounts combined.

mingitzsong: you mean our lightskin king Malik???

That was not the tweet you expected from your friend, not by a long shot. Nor were you expecting the “my moot has a hit tweet!” DM.

Your notifications were flooded with fancams, edits, pictures– is that a video of him grabbing his…?

It was too early and you had gone too long without being satisfied by another person so this was all going to your head. You couldn’t tell if you were a stan now or just horny. You wanted him on your wall… or inside you.

So maybe that was the real reason you were okay with lying to your boss, but it was much more touching to say it was to please your friends.

-🖊️⇝

You enter the function excited to see the guys. Mingi too, but you were trying to seem less eager about that. You find the two youngest members first talking to a group of unfamiliar people. You try to sneak past, intending to say hi when there weren’t people to be introduced to. But alas, they saw you and you met a few idols their age. Then you run into Soobin coming out of the bathroom. “You made it!” His excited smile was ten times cuter when he was tipsy. He pulls you into a big tight hug and it’s so unlike him. He seemed to have an aversion to touching anyone when it wasn’t necessary. Drunk Soobin was unbearably adorable and it took everything in you to not stay with him and pinch his cheeks. But you needed to find the other members.

The club Mingi rented out is not ideal for finding friends. There are two floors and this is your third time walking down the stairs. You haven’t even seen the host himself yet. With his height, it shouldn’t be easy to miss him. As you walk past the large dance floor you become privy to the reason you haven’t found them. Your head naturally lowers, your eyes automatically avoiding the dancing bodies. It wasn’t your fault, your tendency to avoid large groups of people is written deep inside your DNA. It was time to stop beating around the bush, so you enter the group of dancing bodies.

It felt like miles of grazing people despite trying your best to shrink into yourself. In the heart of the group were the three you were looking for. They were lost in the music and possibly a bit drunk. Yeonjun casts a glance to see who was approaching before wordlessly holding out his hand. You accept with exaggerated confidence, fake it ‘til you make it. It was easier than you thought to dance smack dab in the middle of the dance floor. Your focus had been locked on the tall man before you, your body on autopilot as it sways to the music. He guides you closer by your hand with undoubtedly genuine confidence sewn into his smirk. You find yourself naturally smiling, unable to shake the shyness that overcomes you. He was doing it again, but this time you took the bait and let yourself be reeled up to shore. Forced out of your comfort zone, but you couldn’t find it in you to complain.

“Who is that?” You hear a deep masculine voice say to your left. Your eyes stay glued to Yeonjun like you’re physically unable to look away, and you swear he’s having the same problem. But you eventually do. Mingi is still looking at Beomgyu until he answers, only then does he grace you with eye contact. The wind is pulled from your lungs as you gasp. You were too distracted by Yeonjun to fully bask in his glory.

“Well. Here he is in person.” Yeonjun fails to pull your attention away even when he rests his hand on your shoulder. “This is ___.”

Mingi makes a sound of understanding, nodding as he not so subtly rakes his eyes up and down your body. It takes everything in you not to shiver. He repeats your name with a small smile that makes your heart skip rope.

“It’s nice to meet you.” He bows slightly before rising with his cheeks squinting his eyes. “I’m a rapper, my group is called ATEEZ.”

I know, you’re tempted to say. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” You bow back, restraining the locs that fall over your eyes.

“You’re… very beautiful.” His eyes fall again, taking their time coming back to your face before flashing a seductive smirk. You bite your lip, acute amounts of shame stirring with the arousal in your belly as the tension thickens in such a public space.

The members of TXT are long forgotten as you’re sat at the bar with the handsome Mingi. You talk for hours, though it’s mostly flirting and subtle invitations. As much as you can communicate with your limited Korean. You’re glad it’s gotten good enough that you can understand what he tells you next. According to Mingi, there are no restrictions in his company when it comes to doing… it. If they’re of age, they can do whoever they want to their heart’s content. As long as they’re not reckless. TXT has to plan in advance for your visits and they have three emergency escape or hide strategies just in case. That’s just for being seen with you.

There’s heat brewing between your legs. You’d be a huge liar if you said being around handsome men that you couldn’t think about touching wasn’t slightly torturous. Not even a little tipsy quicky you could pretend didn’t happen. No kissing. Hugging was even a stretch. Even if there’s a fuckload of chemistry, gotta ignore it. But this man, the same one you’ve been fantasizing about, can touch you in ways that has heat traveling throughout your entire body.

“What do you think?” He asks with a raise of his eyebrows. You agree in a way you hope doesn’t seem desperate, but in the end who cares? Not you when he leans closer, taking a moment to take in a quick breath before closing the distance. Butterflies swirl and thrash in your stomach as excitement takes over. It’s your fault the kiss escalates but you still can’t care about shame when your dreams are coming true.

His tongue feels like heaven against yours, sinfully wet to the point where you can’t help thinking of it somewhere else. He inhales deeply through his nose and you can feel the ensuing groan in your spine.

A frantic voice pulls the two of you apart, someone talking about an emergency. He and Mingi share an exchange before Mingi looks back at you. He sighs disappointedly. “Ah, I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” He winks before being whisked away, vanishing like he did every morning when your sweet dreams slip between your fingers.

You and Yeonjun don’t see each other for the rest of the party, you stay at the bar to sulk. Yeonjun was buzzing after the brief dance you shared. Your hand was so soft, and the way you looked at him… he’d never seen that from you before. If no one had taken your attention he doesn’t know what might’ve happened. He shakes the thought away as if it were a physical intrusion.

When you kept asking about Mingi before the party, Yeonjun thought nothing of it. You were basically clueless about the industry and he was happy to fill you in. But the way you looked at him, sure it wasn’t as loaded or intimate (or unprovocative) but you looked starstruck. It would sting a little if you didn’t become a fan from their music but from someone else’s.

Yeonjun’s body had become entirely tense, unable to dance in a carefree way after you took over his mind. There was a whole lot of conflict going on in his brain but not a lot of solutions. What does it matter? It’s not like you’re gonna stop being friends with them. You’ve given their home life a level of excitement and joy that it hasn’t reached before, and they didn’t have to train for months to receive it. All Yeonjun had to do was kick back, look over with a smile to see that you’re smiling back.

The next time you see each other is outside the club next to their van. “Hey, you disappeared.” Yeonjun shoves his hands in his pockets before nudging you with his elbow. You glance up at him, but it’s like your neck’s made of rubber. Drunk like him, but way worse at concealing it. Soobin explains that he found you by the bar and decided to help get you home.

In the backseat between Yeonjun and Taehyun, you’re restless. You keep whining and fidgeting until Taehyun asks you what’s wrong. “I’m just frustrated.”

Confused by this progression, Yeonjun turns toward you with a curious frown. “Did something happen with Mingi?”

“He had to leave.” You whimper before letting your head fall on Yeonjun’s shoulder. When you lift your face to look at him you’re way too close for it not to be a problem. He’s hesitant, but Yeonjun allows his face to linger in this dangerous proximity. “I’m still a little worked up.” Your eyes flit down to his lips and he gasps lightly. He casts a quick glance at his members. Taehyun was looking down into his lap, brows tight. The other members seem to be minding their own business. Getting the idea before he even looks back at you, Yeonjun’s heart flips.

When he turns his head again you scoot closer. The lights of the city whiz past, shadows obscuring your features before painting them in vibrant hues. Each aspect of your face that he tried not to think about lay before him in a way so breathtaking he can’t think straight. He usually stops himself by now out of fear that he’ll become obsessed with you. Then he feels the tip of your nose brush against his, signaling how close he is to breaching an important rule. Just then, the van passes through a tunnel, cloaking the entire vehicle in a dimmer light. His heart stills, time stills as the drowsy look wipes off your face. You pull back a bit to flash him a genuine look. As if you’re also considering this.

Yeonjun is closing in just as the van leaves the tunnel, moving fast but not fast enough.

“Hey, break it up!” A bright light is flashed in both your faces. Yeonjun squints and blocks the light, unable to pull away from you because it feels like snuffing out this flame will leave him stranded in the tundra. But Soobin sounded frantic, and he’d hate to stress out his friend and leader. So he pulls away and he’s right. It’s frigid and cold.

“What happened?” Kai sits up from his chair and glances at Soobin before peering at the back seat.

Soobin sighs, clearly hesitant to report this. “He almost kissed her.”

Their reactions vary from shocked to worried to a little frustrated. “That’s like… the biggest thing, hyung.” Soobin pleads for Yeonjun’s understanding with his eyes. Yeonjun nips at his top lip, unable to curb his embarrassment and disappointment. “I know, I know.” He sends a hand through his hair frustratedly.

You sit stiffly between the two men as Taehyun gears up to say something. All this for a kiss? One you were admittedly excited for. Still, you don’t have it in you to get angry at them. Like Yeonjun said. They worked hard for this. It’s silly to risk it all over a kiss. Even if that label makes your heart sink.

“You guys know I won’t say anything. I’m already risking getting fired over driving you here.” The driver pipes up as he casts a quick glance at the rearview mirror.

“It’s not about that, we can’t slip up.” Taehyun finally speaks, eyes cutting at Yeonjun. “At all.”

“I said I know.” Yeonjun speaks with more conviction that raises the tension considerably. Everyone else in the car can feel it. You send nervous glances to the other three who seem to be doing the same. “It’s fine! We’ve all been drinking, so.” Kai tries, his nervous smile flickering out when he looks back. Taehyun has his jaw clenched as he stares out the window and Yeonjun is clearly pissed off.

“Exactly, let’s just drop it. Nothing happened anyway.” Soobin adds authoritatively, looking back at the two who don’t return his glance.

Everyone does as much, leaving the car unbearably quiet. When you arrive at your apartment you say quiet goodbyes to everyone including Jun who gives you a cautious and almost apologetic look. “I’ll come with you.” Soobin grunts as he stands from his seat.

Yeonjun watches helplessly as you both exit the car and Soobin walks you to the door. He would’ve offered before the car even stopped. But this isn’t only about him. A scandal could harm the entire group.

-🖊️⇝

Five months. You haven’t been laid in five months. Then here comes this 6ft-something man with puppy dog tendencies who turns on the sex appeal like it’s nothing, stirring up your emotions to this degree.

You tie half of your locs up before tugging two down to frame your face. You bite your lip as you take in your appearance, a little shocked at how good everything came out. “What do you think? Should I add anything else?”

Things have been a little stiffer between you and Yeonjun. You still hang out but you both can feel it looming. The chemistry. The tension. The threat of jumping each other’s bones at a moment’s notice. Yeonjun doesn’t want to drag his members down because of a rash decision. He’s not sure what’s going through your mind but he can see the conflict in your eyes.

Yeonjun considers helping you. Immediately he’d recommend a choker. It’s hard for him to quell the thoughts about how good your neck looks with a piece of fabric wrapped tightly around it. Then he would suggest going for gloss instead of lipstick, but perhaps he should stop thinking about your neck and lips while he’s ahead. Also, this is all to help Mingi. Valentine’s day has passed, but it’s a miracle if an idol is free then anyway. This is essentially their valentine’s day plans, it’s a thought that presents a lingering bitter taste in his mouth. But he knows better, so he keeps those thoughts to himself.

“Yeah, it looks good like that.” He says as plainly as he can. Like a friend should.

You turn in your chair and rest your arm on the back. He looks really tired today. You can tell it’s one of those weeks that are really beating down on him. This is the most severe you’ve seen it get with your own eyes.

“You’re usually good at helping me with my looks.” It’s true that you’re cautious as well, but if he could have one moment to not be worried about one hundred things at once, you really want it to be with you.

“You did pretty well on your own.” His shrug does nothing to shield how disingenuous he’s being. You give him a knowing look, deciding to probe just a little.

“You know you can take a nap on my bed while I’m gone.”

“I’m good.” He assures with a smile meant to be soft but ends up strained. “Text me if you need anything or if something goes wrong.”

No, no. That’s the last thing you need. Him needing to have his guard up around you and still being so courteous. “I have other friends that I can text. You go play video games or relax or something.”

“Oh yeah? Name someone that isn’t an idol, quickly.” His tense demeanor melts just for a second, just to poke back. You give a short, dry laugh. Knowing very well you didn’t have an answer. Non-idol friends would do you some good. You think for a moment before replying half-jokingly.

“How about I call your leader instead and tell him to come take you home.”

Yeonjun stands from the bed, walking over with a look that you recognize by now. He’s thinking about it again. Kissing you or touching you. “I wanna be here when you get back.” He’s not sure why. You’re not gonna be drinking and Mingi is a gentleman, he’ll make sure you get home safe.

You’re acutely aware you must be looking at him the same way, which means you’re both in danger of breaking the biggest rule. He’s tired and probably unbelievably frustrated. And he wants it so bad. You can practically smell the arousal when you two get like this. Hell, you want it too. Sleeping with someone who’s been stifled for years and is finally able to let loose? The sex would be unforgettable. The thought permeates in your mind, strong enough to overshadow your habit of pushing all this to the wayside. You stand from the chair.

“Why? I’ll be alright.” You blink, unaware of how cute you look peering through your lashes. Despite his notes, you did do a great job. Fuck a choker or lip gloss, if you showed up to a date looking like this, he’d lose all ability to function.

“You look so beautiful.” He breathes out, but how genuine he is shines through. This was more intimate than the dance or the almost kiss. HIs eyes have a slight sheen as they gaze down at you earnestly.

“That means a lot, Jun. Thank you.”

Yeonjun, instead of responding, takes your shirt strap that had fallen down your shoulder in between his fingers. He slowly moves it back up, hand brushing lightly against your soft skin. You’re cold to the touch, your body being chilled by your air conditioner. How long would it be until you were properly warmed up? Too long.

“I don’t think I can handle you looking like this for someone else.” The words roll off his tongue, feeling as though someone else had said them. He looks over at your eyes from your strap, the touched shock on your face confirming that it was real. It happens quickly, the rationalization. You shut up the part of your brain urging you to run away from the conflict and tug Yeonjun closer by his shirt. His hands move to your face and the two of you linger there, either giving this a second thought or wondering if this was really happening. You lean in, feeling his breath fanning only to jerk back suddenly. Your lips brush against each other first before they finally meld, finally connecting in the way you both truly craved.

He’s so expressive, you can feel the longing, hear the pent up frustration leaving him with every heavy sigh. You chase each other’s lips instantly after each disconnect as if the kiss is providing oxygen rather than inhibiting it. There was that heat again, warming his frigid body as you wrap your arms around him and urge him closer.

He pulls away, the impish fox you know well looking so unfamiliar. His eyes pleading and blown out, his pretty lips pink and swollen. You impatiently pull him back in and you feel the same warmth he is. Except it’s burning you up. Both of you feel like you’re being swallowed by a large flame as your tongues circle each other. He lets out a wanton moan that has your core clenching. “Taste so good.” His voice is nearly inaudible, murmured between kisses.

Pushing your straps down your arms, he undoes his recent action. He pushes your dress over your breasts but he’s too consumed by the kiss to look down. His hands envelope the flesh held by your bra as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Things are escalating quickly but you grow frustrated that he isn’t inside you already. You’ve both waited long enough.

“Fuck me, please.” You beg, eyebrows slanting as you let your pride go for just a moment. You reach down and tug at the waistband of his sweats, feeling a little justified as he returns your desperation with his eyes. With his hands kneading your breasts and your fingers clenching his pants you stare into each other’s eyes. No words exchanged but you each understand loud and clear that you need each other. Bad. As his face draws closer you try again. “Fuck me.” You whisper as he nuzzles your nose.

You’re begging for it but Yeonjun can’t decide how he wants you first. He shuts his eyes and imagines your body bent in half, your as lifted into the air. Presented just for him. His cock throb and he squeezes your breast. Your ensuing moan almost pushes him to throw you onto the bed. But then he imagines the moonlight bleeding through the curtains and painting your body. The lights of the cars that speed past illuminating your umber tinted nipples that perk up nice and hardened for him.

The fantasy draws more and more saliva onto his tongue that rolls off onto yours. Your tongues tangle in a horny mess. If anyone saw what the two of you were doing they’d probably be confused, but both of your faces are scorching and the spaces between your legs are throbbing. Yeonjun is on his tenth fantasy on how he wants to pose you when he starts whimpering. You grab his crotch and return the squeeze he’s been giving your breasts. He finally unlatches from your lips to toss his head back, letting out the loudest moan of the evening. You kiss down his throat, feeling the vibrations of his pretty sounds. It’s taking every atom inside your body to not bite and suck, instead you ghost your teeth over his supple skin.

As his moans transition to groans and growls his actions become more rough. He grabs your wrist to keep your hand steady as he grinds into it. His nails pierce your breast and it’s your turn to whimper. He yanks your hand off of him and moves his own to your waist, finally guiding you over to the bed. In every fleeting fantasy he had there was one thing either missing or integral. The very look on your face you have now as he’s moving over you. Your dark eyes are so doe-like yet so sinful. They yearn for him, yet dare him.

The taking off of your clothes is agonizingly slow. It doesn’t matter that you’re both rushing to the point that you almost rip each other’s shirts. It’s still torturous. His long cock bobs as he repositions himself, a drop of precum dribbling from his tip and shining in the light. His nails dig into you yet again as your legs are hoisted on either side of your head. Every time he grips so forcefully you wish he’d do it harder, squeeze you until you fuse together.

You get as close as you can to that wish when his tip cards between your lips. You jolt, surprised by your own sensitivity. Yes, it’s been a long time, but it’s not that. Your clit and lips are so swollen that they ache. You feel like your molten juice will pour out of you at any moment. You hold your legs in place as Yeonjun lowers onto his forearms, bringing his face closer to yours. You’ve already stuck your tongue down his throat and gripped his cock, but there’s something strangely intimate about his bangs brushing against your forehead. He watches you intently as he slowly pushes in. You gasp, as if the heat radiating off his cock is actually singing you as he slides in.

Yeonjun releases his lip from his teeth as a deep groan forces its way out from the depths of his core. Your pussy swallows him whole, so devastatingly wet that it coats your outer lips and coaxes him in with ease. The urge to crack a window, shove the comforter and sheets off the bed, anything to quell the overwhelming heat is a fleeting thought for the both of you. It’s quickly replaced by the gnawing need to feel every part of each other. To get deep. Yeonjun arches his back and pushes his hips in until you’re yelping and your hips buck uncontrollably.

Then something snaps and a rhythm takes over Yeonjun’s body. His hips snap toward yours at the perfect pace that has you clawing down his back. You feel his skin under your fingernails.

Your hips desperately chase after him, fingers fumbling over your achy clit. It’s a blurred frenzy that neither of you can completely process as real. Your brains are turned off anyway, blindly chasing pleasure and that orgasm so sweet your teeth go numb at the thought.

The height of the pleasure makes each pump of his cock maddening. It’s so good you both almost want it to stop. The pleasure spikes higher, making your moans peak in pitch. Your grip falters on your thighs as your legs start to quake.

“I can’t– I can’t!” Your mumbles are nearly incoherent between your shrieky whimpers. A knot squeezes so tight in your lower belly it feels like a large, heavy ball. Yeonjun grits out moans as his eyebrows furrow. The pleading look is so sexy, the desperation in his voice. His fucking cock is inside you. It’s so deep inside you.

“C-cumming!” Your thighs slip from your hands as a violent tremor sweeps through your body. The knot snaps and you feel hot liquid spewing from your cunt. Yeonjun fucks through the pressure, sharp profanities shoot off his tongue. He claws at your thighs and his thrusts transition to slow and punishing. The myriad of noises flooding from your lips don’t lower in intensity. The pleasure barely plateaus and you’re right back in the trenches.

“Fuck! Yeonjun, fuck!” You squeal. His hand crawls up from between your breasts to your throat. “You’re taking it so well, you’re perfect.” His voice cracks, the sincerity in his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so, so perfect.” His body drops closer to yours, his voice tickling against your ear. His thrusts pick up with his fractured moans. You can tell just how much is being released as he fucks you. It’s just as magical as you imagined, watching him let loose like this. But the twitch in his brow bothers you. His muscles are tight, his shoulders tense. You let out a serene sigh.

“Let it all out, Junnie.” You run your hands over his shoulders, feeling his muscles loosen under your fingers. His eyes flutter shut, mimicking your serene sigh. He doesn’t get to rest for long. The conflict wracking his body this time is different. His cock is twitching inside you.

Your clumsy hands travel all over his shoulders, neck, and land on his face. His hips start to fracture from their rhythm and his face occasionally pinches. You caress him, wanting to bottle up the version of him that’s close to cumming.

You press a tender, wet kiss to his lips. “Cum inside me.”

It doesn’t occur to you that he has no clue you’re on birth control. So when the most guttural moan erupts from his chest it catches you off guard. His hips grind down against yours, his cock throbbing as it pumps you even fuller. Your sweaty bodies stay like that for a moment, not long enough for your sensitivity to wane. He pulls out, unplugging your hole for all the fluids to flow out.

His cock is heavy against your clit, so heavy that it triggers your sensitivity. You close your legs around him and turn your head into your pillow. He flows you, planting a long kiss on your lips as he grinds his cock into your mound.

“Jun,” you tap at the mattress, the excruciating pleasure taking you to another planet.

“I love your pussy.” He finally pulls away and the rigidity of your body eases. You let out a shaky breath, eyeing him as moves down your body. He glances up at you with his mouth hovering over your tired pussy. “It’s mine.” His eyes flutter shut as he kisses your mound wetly. A sharp moan rockets out of you. Your head shoots backward and your thighs threaten to close around him. That was just the teaser.

His tongue delves in to scoop out his and your essence. You’re in awe of the dirtiness of his actions and the lengths he’s willing to push you. All while staring you right in the eyes. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as you push at his head.

He hums before lifting away. “You want me to stop?”

“N-no!” You reply instantly, a laugh bubbling out of both of you. It was ridiculous at this point. Yeonjun curls his tongue inside of you until he’s satisfied with how clean he got you. He lifts up, giving only a glimpse of his sullied face before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

He crawls back up and you groan.

“No, we’re both gross, don't lay back down.”

He grumbles ‘give me an hour’, making you both laugh. It’s comforting, a crackling fire lulling you both to sleep.

You gasp loudly, shooting upright.

“Mingi!”

-🖊️⇝

If only you hadn’t done that. The vibes after the sex were immaculate. Now things are tense again as Yeonjun gets you ready to meet with Mingi. His hands run over your sudsy body, making sure you’re squeaky clean. He helps you with your bra, even helps you pick out a new outfit. When all is said and done, you’re back to looking at each other through the mirror. He sighs.

“Go ahead and text him you’re ready.”

You pull your phone out, finding you’re just flipping it over in your hands instead of unlocking it. You chew on your lip, your heart beating so intensely it’s debilitating.

“I’m ready.” You rush out, thinking for a moment before turning to actually look at him. Yeonjun breathes a laugh with a smirk.

“I said tell him, not me.”

“Why? You’re my date.” Your smile beams brighter than you mean it to. It’s all fine because he returns its luminosity.

“I’m down for that. I’m too fatigued to go anywhere, though.”

“I know, I really tuckered you out didn’t I?” You cock an eyebrow at him, doing your best impression of a sly fox you know.

“Okay, but who made who squirt?”

You shove him, making him chuckle as he catches himself. You quickly leave the bedroom, turning to shout back at him.

“I’m watching the movie without you.”

He chases after you and you just barely evade him to sit on the cough first. He dives next to you, snuggling up close and nuzzling his forehead into yours. It’s something he used to do to annoy you, and though you’re tonguing your cheek, your heart is fluttering.

You watch the rest of the movie hugging his arm with your head on his shoulder. As the credits roll, is the first to talk in thirty minutes.

“It was always gonna be us.” Yeonjun chuckles. “We both knew it from the moment in your hotel room. Fuck it, I might’ve thought about it when I first saw you.”

You crane your head to look at him, his sharp eyes already on you. There’s a softness to them.

Multiple fists thundering against your door makes you both jump.

“Open up! Yeonjun has been here for way too long!” Identifying Soobin’s voice dulls the alarm bells blaring in both your heads.

Yeonjun trudges over to let them in, sulking back to the couch as the four younger book it past him. Beomgyu launches himself on the couch and asks what “we’re” watching. Kai is close behind, snatching the remote before Beomgyu could even think to grab it. They argue over that as Soobin sits down, rubbing his temples. He sinks into the couch as you sit beside him. You can feel Yeonjun’s warmth on your left and you bite your lip trying to ignore it.

“And just what were you doing here all alone?” Soobin’s eyes slowly pan over to the two people sitting suspiciously close to each other. You both shrug, mumbling something about movies and ice cream.

Taehyun sighs, squeezing his ass in between the both of you until you’re forced to part. You just roll your eyes, ignoring it for now. The movie watching experience with these five was always chaotic. Chaotic enough that you and Yeonjun could sneak glances at each other with no one noticing. The noise dissipates as you get lost in each other’s eyes. You both smile.

#poor mingi T___T #txt #yeonjun #smut #kpop #choi yeonjun #yeonjun smut #txt smut #kpop smut #choi yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun smut

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live-laugh-lenney · 2 months

Note

Hi just got into reading your writing, I adore it ❤️❤️

Was just wondering if you could write about George while during labour and after cuddling with a cute baby. I feel like he would be so cute and helpful 😂😂

thank you for coming by my blog and checking out my stuff, that means a whole lot to me! if you wanna check out the previous girl-dad!george blurb then you can read it here. xx

nearing the last few weeks of her pregnancy, all yn wants to do is stay at home.

as much as george tries to coax her out for some fresh air, just for a walk around the park down the road or sitting in the background of on one of chris' football shoots so she could get some social activity in as well as some time outside, she denies every invite that comes her way. she just doesn't feel up to it.

and george understands.

"i'm fat, i waddle instead of walk, i look gross and i haven't showered for about four days because i'm tired lugging this around," she points to the bump that protrudes from over the waistband of her tracksuit trousers and stretching the material of one of george's old t-shirts, "i just don't want to go anywhere, george."

"you're not fat," he tuts and runs the stretch of his palm across the curvature of her front, feeling the active kicks from his little girl as she moves around and gets comfortable from the previous jostling motions of yn waddling her way towards him, "you are pregnant. not fat."

"i've gained so many pounds," yn huffs her fringe from her face and he rolls his eyes, "don't roll your eyes with attitude, clarkey."

"not done with attitude," he retorts and presses a kiss to her lips, "you're just being silly, okay? the midwife told you in your last visit to her that you'd probably gain a little weight from your body changing."

she frowns and he cups her face in his hands.

"besides, all that added weight is just proof out little girl is growing healthily."

she drops her forehead to his chest, a slight stretch from her neck because of the bump restricting her from getting any closer, and she groans lowly.

"will you be okay for a few hours? i can get someone to come and sit with you for an hour or so?"

"i'll be fine," yn grumbles, lifting her head up to look at him and he has a soft and gentle look in his eyes, one that seemed to be debating on whether he should leave for chris' video shoot or stay and explain that he needed to be home with her, "don't even think about cancelling, george. i'll be fine. if anything goes wrong, i'm sure arthur can come down from upstairs."

"hill or television?"

"oh, definitely hill. i think mister frederick would pass out if he had to do anything remotely related to me being in labour."

george snorts and retrieves his hands from her, passing her by as he walks towards the door to her flat and grabs his boots for the 3g pitch chris had booked, slipping his feet into his trainers, before grabbing his hoodie from the back of her door.

"you call me if anything happens."

"george, we have three weeks."

"baby's can come early," he warns her and she rolls her eyes, "less with the attitude, missy."

"go on, go. you'll be late otherwise," yn smiles softly, "tell chris i say hi and that the baby told me that she can't wait to puke on him when she's finally here."

and, of course, everything is fine and dandy in the first few hours without george.

she made herself a sandwich then followed it with a bowl of cereal because she was craving something a little chocolatey, watching all of the youtube videos that she needed to catch up and scrolling her social media, replying to sweet messages on her twitter and doing a small q and a on her instagram for people to involve themselves in.

until she felt an ache roll across her belly.

an ache that was nothing like the braxton hicks she'd experienced just a short week ago when she'd panicked about going into labour. the midwife explaining it was just her body getting ready for when it was time to pop their little girl out, that it was nothing to worry about and that she wasn't in active labour and just needed to rest and enjoy the last few weeks as a family of two.

an ache that did worry her because it was harsh. enough to make her hunch over. enough to make her eyes water. enough to have her heart racing in her chest.

"you just had to do it without daddy here, huh? did you not hear our conversation earlier?"

she didn't want to interrupt george and she told herself that she had enough willpower to cope for the first hour, by herself, and she didn't want to call chris when he was in the middle of his shoot to tell him she needed her boyfriend when her labour was only at the first stage.

she reaches for her phone and tries to call arthur hill, except it goes to his voicemail twice. to which she left a rather agitated message in relation to how she was going to make him do all the nappy changes and have him on babysitting duty when her little one had arrived.

"yn?"

"arthur," she says, "hello."

"hi?"

"don't be so surprised i'm calling you, idiot. we're friends," she rolls her eyes to herself and her words come out as a low grumble and he huffs out a gentle laugh, "i just need your help."

"i'm in the middle of editing a new reacts video, can it wait till-"

"i think i'm in labour and i just need someone to come and sit with me for a little while. just in case," she grumbles out, looking at the clock as she kept a close eye on the minutes ticking by, "just until george comes home from his shoot with chris in a couple of hours."

"oh, shit."

"please don't panic," she begs him softly, hearing the instant shock and worry in his voice, "i'm fine. nothing is really progressing and i've only had two contractions in the last fifteen or so minutes. but-"

"no, no. it's fine. give me five minutes and i'll be down, okay? do you need me to bring you anything? does george have anything that you'll need?"

yn shakes her head, "no, no. just, yourself. please. george has a spare key in your flat, by the front door, you can use that."

"okay, i'll be there soon. just sit tight."

and when george gets home a short hour and a half after her first contraction, he's greeted with the sight of yn swaying her hips on her yoga ball in front of arthur who was sat on the sofa, her hands in his as she squeezed them gently, lips pursed as she took deep breaths in and out.

and, at first, he's confused.

until it really dawns on him and he's drops his stuff instantly. feet on their way to her before he could toe his trainers off and usually, yn would complain about the smell of his sweaty clothes after his arrival home after anything activity-related except today, she had bigger things to worry about.

"jesus christ, you didn't think to call me?"

"i didn't want to interrupt your shoot. plus, it's not too bad," yn smiles softly, her cheeks red and her forehead shiny with a thin layer of sweat building up on her skin, "arthur's been a great help. he should take up midwifery."

"no," arthur blurts out suddenly and she giggles lightly, "i don't have the stomach for it."

"okay, maybe a doula then," yn suggests, "your voice is very calming and soothing to listen to. i made him recite animal facts to distract him and myself."

she looks at george and his eyes are full of concern.

"george, i'm okay."

"she's a trooper," arthur lets george take her hands, replacing his spot in front of yn and he stands to his feet, wiping his hands on his t-shirt as they were warm and a little sticky, "do you need me or shall i leave you both to it?"

"i think we've got it," george look at him and smiles, "thanks, mate. i'll keep you updated on everything. hopefully we have a baby next time we see you."

arthur grins and bends over and presses a soft kiss to yn's forehead, squeezing her shoulder before he bids his farewell to the two of them, closing the front door behind him as he exits the flat. leaving yn and george in their own bubble, allowing them the privacy to endure the next step of their parenting journey together, the quiet feel to the room almost comforting for her as his thumb rubs over her knuckles reassuringly.

he calls the hospital, speaks to her midwife, lets yn inform of her of everything and they're told to come in because yn was definitely about to have a baby. no fake contractions this time around.

it was the real thing.

and she was terrified.

"i don't wanna go," she whispers tearfully and her feet come to halt at the front door, dropping his hand as he takes one step more and he turns to look at her, "george, i don't want to go."

"no, no. hey," he hoists the strap of the baby bag over his shoulder, her head dropping down to her chest as she hid the tears that were beginning to well and spill over her eyelids, "i know you're scared. hell, i'm scared, too. so scared. but we've got this, yeah? you've got this."

she shakes her head.

"yes, you have. you're the strongest woman i know, okay? you've been amazing through the last nine months, you've battled all you can battle, now it's time for the final step," he grins widely and she looks up at him, his palms cupping her face, "we're about to have a baby, yeah? the last nine months of growing our little bub is coming to an end."

"i can't do it," she whimpers and her bottom lip wobbles, "george, i can't."

and she bursts into tears. her cries echoing around the hallway, down the corridor of the floor of her flat, and his heart breaks at all of the emotions coming from within her. her cheeks wet. her eyes red. and he scoops her into a hug, hiding her face in his shoulder, cupping the back of her head with his hand.

"i'm with you every step of the way," he whispers, "right there, next to you, holding your hand. i'm not going anywhere."

she gulps back a thick sob, her tears dampening the shirt on his body and her knees are shaking, gently swaying as she felt a contraction start its painful ache across her stomach muscles, a heavy groan in the air that he could feel the pain radiate from.

when they get to the hospital and once she's given a room, with a pool in the corner in case she wanted it and a birthing ball beside her beside in case she found comfort on that, changing into a gown so she was a little more comfortable. the smell making her feel a little more at ease knowing she was somewhere where she could birth her baby safely. the gentle pastel colours of the walls around her making her feel less stressed and panicky and a lot more mellow and calmer.

and george stuck to his word.

he never left her side. he never tore his attention from her. he never left the room. he stayed planted to the seat beside the bed. only getting up to use the en-suite loo that came with the room and when she was after a nurse to ask a question about something she was a little scared and nervous about.

"think we should tell the guys?"

"i think arthur would have mentioned something," yn smiles, "i'm very surprised they're not in the waiting room."

"do you want them here?"

yn shakes her head, "as much as i'd love to see them, i just want you here."

he smiles and kisses her forehead.

"you're doing so well, okay? i wish i could do more for you than just hold your hand or rub your back," he frowns, "i just hate seeing you in so much pain."

"it's all worth it though, right? we get a baby at the end of this," she's softly spoken, having only just had an epidural to ease the pain she was feeling and to help her cope with the aches of her contractions, "me and you, can you believe that? not once did i ever picture us in this position when i saw you on tiktok all those years ago."

he snorts out a laugh and blushes softly.

"i'm so glad i commented on that one video you stitched onto mine," he reminds her, "don't think i'd be as happy with life than as i am now. never did i think i'd be a dad, though."

"you're going to be such a good dad," she says, "such a dilf."

yeah... so... i definitely love this girl-dad!george au that had risen up on this blog. i have a few messages in response to it so i'm going to work on them. i just love the idea of all of the boys being girl-dad's. :'))) please tell me i am not alone! anyway! thank you for requesting this. my inbox is always open for george and arthurtv chats on here. xx

#george clarkey #george clarkey imagines #george clarkey fics #george clarkey headcannons #george clarkey blurbs #george clarke #george clarke imagines #george clarke fics #george clarke headcannons #george clarke blurbs

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eywamygoddesswrites · 1 year

Text

— 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓭 — (multiple x fem!reader) | 2

pairing: avatar women x fem!human!reader

tags: just the lovely women taking care of the reader during her period, can be seen as platonic/romantic (except tuk because it's strictly platonic)

warnings: nooooone

a/n: kiri, tuk, and tsireya are aged up! this is for the women characters since i don't want it to be too long. for the avatar men version, click here. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

word count: 1.1k

neytiri

learned human anatomy from grace when the school was running

met you when you came in with jake sully

you were around her age. she was 19 and you were 20

being a scientist like grace, you had an avatar ready for you like how jake used his twin’s avatar

when you’re out of your avatar, you tend to forget that you still get your period

like jake (when he’s an avatar), she can smell whenever your period is near

she’d ask grace what you like during your period and does her best to make you feel as comfortable as you can

she’d do anything to make you smile

she’d take the pain away if she can but she can’t so the next best thing she does is make you feel comfortable as much as she can

whether you like it or not, she will bring you food and uses that oxygen mask just so she can stay with you (even if she hates the lab and other sky people)

many many woven clothes for you to wear both for your avatar and your little human self

rests her head on your abdomen and litters kisses on them from time to time

calls you sweet nicknames in na’vi language

kiri

like her brothers, she knows about human anatomy because of their dad and because you’re her friend

she thinks periods are stupid and why should you women on earth get them

you explained that it’s related to getting pregnant

boooooo na’vi women don’t have to bleed just cause they didn’t get pregnant

I KNOW I’M JEALOUS OF YOU ALL

would laugh at your misery (not in a mean way but it’s just to lighten your mood) but she’d help you as best as she can

being a tsahik-in-training, she brings you soothing creams and gives you these small homemade medicines to lessen the pain

BEST MASSAGES I SWEAR

weaves you blankets to keep you warm because you always feel a lot colder when you have your period

would feel bad when the pain is too unbearable to the point of you sometimes crying

ears flat on her head as she held you in her arms as you cried your pain out

she would rock you to sleep as best as she can

even if you complain that you’re not a baby and why was she treating you like one

she shushes you and tells you to go to sleep

tuk (platonic)

when you first got your period, she was SUPER confused as to why you were bleeding

like her brothers, she was confused as to why you were suddenly bleeding one day

cries for her mom and dad that y/n was dying and bleeding

jake laughed and explained to his youngest that human girls like you get their periods and it’s a normal thing

HOW CAN BLEEDING BE A NORMAL THING

jake then gives his youngest a small lecture on human anatomy and tuk was like

ooooohhhhh that’s kinda stupid

she’s really kiri’s sister. she spends too much time with her older sister that she’s becoming a mini kiri

anywhos

she would ask any of her older siblings to come to help her get food for you

like fish or meat, she asks for neteyam to help her

but for fruits, she gets them herself

makes little bracelets and teaches you how to make some

cries when you cry

the babies cry

she sleeps beside you as much as she can before neytiri picks her up and jake fixes your position in bed before leaving you a kiss on the forehead and they leave the lab

tuk would come running back when she woke up back home

no one is taking her away from her best friend ESPECIALLY when her friend needs her

ronal

she didn’t give two shits when you got your period one day

why should she? you were the same species as those who were hurting pandora

but seeing you uncomfortable throughout the day and seeing you physically try to lessen the pain, maybe a little help won’t hurt

she would leave some soothing paste by the entrance of your pod (you’re wearing an oxygen mask) and leave as quickly as she visited

would watch you from afar and have her kids be the ones giving you the things she made for you

since she was still not that fond of humans, she doesn’t give any physical affection

but maybe, if you prove to her that she’s wrong with her assumptions

then maybe, just maybe, she can be a bit physically affectionate toward you

tsireya

the sweetest girl out there fr fr

when she learned that you humans get periods, she immediately tries to find ways to ‘stop them’

but when you explained that it can only stop when women get either pregnant or become old, she was bummed

like c’mon, there must be another way for it to stop

she doesn’t want you getting hurt but you explained that it’s the side effects of it and you can’t really stop it

but that doesn’t stop her from doing her best to help y/n out as best as she can

the best medicine and soothing cream only for y/n to use

weaving warm blankets for y/n since being near the ocean makes it really really cold at night

gives the best best bEST hugs fr fr

need her to be with you the whole day? she will stay with you for as long as you want her to be

she won’t leave you unless she has something to do

grace augustine

going with grace to pandora was the best decision you did

although everything was new, you didn’t mind the new surroundings so long as grace and you were together

since arriving in pandora, your period became irregular because of stress from the travel and just in general getting used to everything

grace was there all throughout as you were to her

but soon enough, everything became normal again and you two sync up with it

when you feel that your period is getting close, you tell grace and you two stock up on pads

she cooks for you and makes you your favorite drinks

you give her massages (she loves them so much)

when one becomes very emotional, the other lets them go take a rest the whole day

when you’re in your room the whole day, she brings you pandora samples like flowers or fruits and explains to you what they are

she brings you some fruits that are edible for humans to eat

cuddles at night are a must for the two of you. neither of you two goes to sleep without the other

taglist: @nyotamalfoy @hanhanartz @murderousmushroom @myvath @iwaslikeblah

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cookiebelle · 11 months

Text

Damian Priest NSFW Alphabet

Pretty self explanatory.

NSFW under the cut, so please, MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY. I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume on the internet.

Read the accompanying one shot here!

Warnings: smut, obviously. Afab reader. Oral m&f receiving. Kink. Pet names. Mention of knife play. Not sure what else. Let me know if I should put up any other warnings.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Damian strikes me as a protector. He is always quick to wrap a possessive arm around his teammate in the ring, or care for them after a particularly brutal match. For that reason, I think he’s pretty decent at aftercare, once he’s gotten over that beautiful afterglow. He gets up and cleans you off, then runs and brings some snacks and water while you get up to pee (because you should ALWAYS pee after sex!!!), both of you crawling back into bed and him wrapping his arms around you until you fall asleep.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He’s really into his arms, I think. They’re so strong and yet capable of being soft when he holds you close to him. He loves to show them off and flex them, and he loves the tattoos that cover them.

As far as you goes, he’s always had a thing for eyes, so he’d probably say that if you asked him. He’s an ass man, though. So in actual reality, it’s that. He loves to squeeze it, pinch it, smack it. You’re lucky he keeps his hands off it, period.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

The man looooooves it when you swallow. But he loves coming on your face even more. When he pulls out, coming on your ass is a must. But more than anything, he loves that primal urge to cum inside you and claim you for himself, and who would you be to deny him? Bonus points: he lives for pictures of you with his cum on your face. Has a whole folder of them on his phone.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Prior to you guys getting together, in the years you two were “just friends” with palpable sexual tension, he would jerk off to your Instagram photos. Nothing particularly racy, either. Just pictures of you that did enough to put your image in his head. He will absolutely take this secret to his grave.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Pretty experienced. Remember his NXT days? Exactly. He really has slowed down since then, though. That being said, during your friendship, you’ve seen him with plenty of girls. It’s safe to say he knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows enough to still take the time to get to know exactly what your body needs.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

This is pretty tough. He likes missionary, he loves taking you from behind, and he loves when you ride him. His favorite, though… would have to be a mating press or something of the like. Something that leaves you fully open and accessible to him so he can get *deep* inside you, and that also leaves you pinned and folded up in a way that he has complete control over you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Get you a man who can do both. Sex is fun for him, and even more fun with the right partner that he can just be himself with. He loves to laugh, no matter the activity. His more serious side is definitely present, though, and it doesn’t take much to bring it out. He can go from laughing and playing with you to “that’s right. Take it, slut” in .2 seconds flat. He loves the look in your eyes you get when he brings out The Serious Voice, especially in public.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Very well groomed. He’s a man who takes good care of himself, his hair is no different. It’s not waxed/shaved, but it’s definitely trimmed well.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He’s surprisingly gentle and sweet when the moment calls for it. He absolutely worships your body in a way you’ve never experienced before, like every inch of you is gold to him. Even when he’s rough and Dominant and needs you like air, there’s a level of intimacy in the urgency. Oh, and he’s a fucking great kisser. So even in the filthiest moments, there’s unmatched passion between the two of you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh, absolutely. Before a match. When he’s away on tour without you, or you without him. At this point he has some good nudes of you so he doesn’t have to resort to your Instagram pictures. One of his favorite things is mutual masturbation. He’s an exhibitionist at heart, and he loves putting on a show for you. He loves seeing you get so turned on by him stroking himself, if he’s not careful he’ll cum way too fast.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

So many but here’s a few:

Bondage: he likes tying you up. He learned a few basic shibari techniques and absolutely has had you walking around with a rope harness under your clothes a few times.

Breeding: does he want kids eventually? Probably. Right now, at the height of his career? Not exactly. However, there’s something so distinctly primal about growling in your ear that he’s going to fill you up until it takes and make you carry his baby so you can be all his. The idea is just as terrifying to you, but that doesn’t stop you from desperately begging for it.

Dumbification: in the sense that he likes to get you so cock drunk to the point where you’re unable to string a coherent sentence along and he can coo condescendingly at you “oh gatita, what’s wrong? Is it too much? Good.”

Impact play: he has big, strong hands and a penchant for making you whine and beg with every slap across your ass. For more? For him to stop? The world may never know.

Knife play: he collects close range weapons. Safe to say he has a collection of knives along with that. He has one specifically for playing with you (one of his favorites, something as pretty as you). He drags it lightly along your skin while you’re tied up, or even gently scratches his initials into you when you two are really deep in the moment. He rarely draws blood, honestly, but the danger of having a blade to close to you is just intoxicating.

There’s so many more, I could write a whole fic just about his kinks.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I think he’s a semi-public sex type of man. Like out in the alleyway behind the bar, or in a far corner of the bowels of the arena you’re performing at that night. He’s strong enough to pick you up and pin you against any wall, and boy does he take advantage of that.

As far as in your respective living spaces, he’s definitely a traditional bedroom guy but he’s also a “bend you over the counter while you’re cooking dinner” guy and a “eat you out on the couch while you’re watching a boring movie” guy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

YOU. You smiling and talking with your friends as he observes you from across the room. You doing your skincare at the end of the night. You wrestling. You doing the most mundane things like grocery shopping or cooking. He waited years to be with you and now that he finally is, everything about you turns him on. When you catch him staring, you love to tease him. Giving him that innocent look he loves so much, or little touches along his arm as you walk by. Expect a text from him, promising you’ll pay when you two get home.

When you’re alone, the teasing is so so so much worse. Bending over in front of him to show off your ass, or getting down on your knees at his feet, only to tie his shoe. Eventually the teasing becomes a game between you two and you wait to see which one of you breaks first. It’s almost always you, much to his delight.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

It goes without saying but human waste is just not his bag. He doesn’t have a lot of turn offs, it’s more of a situational thing than anything. There are times that he can’t stand to make you hurt (impact play, cnc, etc.), there are times he loves it. He won’t scar you, though, or draw a lot of blood (some beads of blood from scratching you are fine). No lasting marks that aren’t done by a professional.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Damian Priest is a pussy eating champion. He’s all about quality, not quantity. Giving you head for an hour doesn’t mean anything if you’re still coherent by the end of it. He can make you cum an embarrassing amount of times, very quickly, with his mouth on your clit and his fingers buried inside your cunt. By the time he’s ready to fuck you, you’re not sure if you can even handle any more (you can, and you do).

He l o v e s you giving him head. It’s one of his all time favorite activities. You look up at him with those big eyes while you take him down your throat and he is GONE. It’s pretty rare that he’s at a loss for words, but your mouth wrapped around his cock officially turns his brain into standby mode. He loves holding you by the hair and fucking your mouth. He loves letting you do all the work. He loves it all.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s a slow but powerful fuck, most of the time. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, and every thrust knocks the wind out of you. He can be rough and fast, too, especially when he finds that spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back into your head.

He’s capable of being slow and sensual, too. It’s not often, but there are definitely moments that are charged with passion and feel as though you two are of the same body and spirit.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Loves a quickie, ESPECIALLY before a big match, just to quell his nerves. At least that’s what he says. You think he’ll just take any chance to put his hands on you (you’re right). He loves one in the morning before you guys get up for the day, too. Just something to get him going. “It’s better than coffee,” he’s said many times.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’ll try anything once, and he’s learned he likes a lot of things he would have never guessed.

He takes risks in the form of fucking you where anyone could happen upon you, or coming inside you and stealing your panties when you’re wearing a skirt/dress. At the HOF ceremony, you absolutely wore his cum dripping down your thighs in your pretty gown, and he smirked every time you adjusted the way you were sitting in order not to stain it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The man’s an athlete, and a good one to boot. He can go at least three rounds on an average night, more on a great night. He lasts pretty long, too, when he has the time. A night in with him is an hours long adventure that leaves you completely exhausted by the end, for sure.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t know that he had toys by way of vibrators or anything like that before you and him started seeing each other. Not that he’s against them, he just didn’t have them. With you, he’s down to try anything. His favorite is the hitachi wand. He loooooooves torturing you with it. You got him a fleshlight/pocket pussy because 1) you wanted him to have a toy to play with when you two were apart, since you have a vibrator, 2) you wanted to watch him use it during your little mutual masturbation sessions, and 3) you wanted to use it on him just to torture him as much as he tortures you. It was a rousing success.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

So much??? Like so much. In public it’s constant. Little touches, glances in your direction, pulling you to sit on his lap. Sometimes he steals you away to a random hallway just to make out with you and grab at your ass, for just a moment, then breaks the kiss and walks away as if nothing happened. He leaves you completely disheveled and turned on, and just smirks at you from across the room when you re-emerge after fixing your clothes and hair.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s known for his deep, booming voice and aggressive roars in the ring. In the bedroom, it’s no different. He’s talking dirty, in English and Spanish, to the point where he truly doesn’t shut up, just babbling nonsense by the end of it. He’s groaning about what a good slut you are for him while you take him deep inside you. When he cums, he’s extremely vocal, but able to keep the volume controlled when people are around. If he didn’t, the entire Raw roster would hear him (and they definitely have at least once). He’s growling praises while you take every drop of him, groaning when your cunt clenches around him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He’s a secret switch, but only in the sense that he’ll give you the illusion of control over him, just to snatch it back from you when you least expect it. He does, however, love seeing you feel powerful. It’s incredibly sexy to him. But he loves being in control more, and you make the cutest face when he’s suddenly on top of you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

👀 I mean, he’s a giant. I can’t imagine he’s disappointing in that department by any means. The first time you fucked, you were certain he was ruining you. And, truth be told, he was. You’re not sure you’d be satisfied with anything else at this point.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. Like twice a day and three times on weekends kind of high. You wake up to him begging for you (yes, begging. In Spanish.), and he’s on you the moment you get into bed for the night.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I think Damian is a man who can survive on little sleep, so he usually is awake even after you fall asleep. He sits up and alternates between watching tv and watching you sleep.

#damian priest #damian priest smut #damian priest x reader #punishment martinez

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beechersnope · 10 months

Text

Summer of Cum Days 28/29/30: ruined orgasm, loss of virginity, thigh fucking

nico/mark & jenson/nico, warnings for mild dubcon, undernegotiated kink, slut/whore used in a sexual context, 1933 words

***

Nico knows that the only reason Mark sleeps with her now is because she’s already fucked everyone else first.

He wouldn’t touch her back when they were teammates; said she was too young, too inexperienced—whatever. She’d (stupidly) cared back then, thought he was breaking her heart. So maybe he’d been right about all that.

They’d only gotten off once that whole year: Nico straddling Mark’s thigh in the back of some too-loud nightclub that Jenson had dragged them all to. They hadn’t even fucked, not really. Nico came harder than she ever had before, even with her panties and Mark’s jeans depriving her of the slick glide of skin-against-skin that she’d been craving since the second she saw him that night, cocktail drunk with sweat staining his shirt collar. Mark didn’t know that Nico had still been a virgin then, but she certainly isn’t going to tell him now.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?” Mark asks, mouth curling in disgust as he nods toward Nico’s new mobile phone, which has just spilled out of her pocket during the course of her hasty undressing.

“I know you’re old, but you’re not that old,” Nico teases. She kicks off her underwear next, leaving her socks for last. She balls them up and chucks them individually at Mark’s face. “It’s a mobile, dumbass.”

“I know it’s a mobile. It’s just so…pink.”

Nico twists to grab the phone from where it's lying in a crumple of hotel sheets. It is pink. Nico likes it.

“Jealous?” she asks. She knows Mark still has some horribly outdated Nokia and can’t bear to part with it for some reason, but he’s staring at the phone in her hands with endearingly transparent curiosity, like he really hasn’t ever seen anything like it.

“Does it take photos?” he wonders.

Nico’s face slowly breaks into a smile. She nods. “Do you want to take some of me?”

Mark looks almost forlorn as he answers. “Wouldn’t be able to see them on mine,” he reminds her. “Maybe I should think about getting an upgrade.”

“Maybe you should.” Nico settles in against the stack of pillows that she carefully arranged before Mark had even arrived, but she keeps the phone tucked against her chest, resting it in the flat space between her breasts that only makes itself known when she’s lying on her back like this. She might not be able to send Mark any pictures of herself—yet—but that doesn’t mean she can’t take pictures of him instead.

“Want me to eat you out?” Mark asks, though it’s just a formality. She always does. He’s too big for Nico to handle without at least one orgasm under her belt, at which point she’ll be wet enough, relaxed enough, to finally take him without complaint.

Nico nods eagerly. “Can you—” she starts to ask, blushing a little already even as she says it. “Like before,” she adds.

Mark nods without asking for clarification. He gets up quickly, returning a few seconds later with the squeeze tube of lubricant from the bathroom that Nico had almost mistaken for her toothpaste just two nights ago. Thankfully, she’d been alone for that mishap. If anyone else had been around to see it, Nico would have at least half a dozen brand new nicknames in the paddock by now.

Nico breathes deep as Mark slicks up two fingers and carefully slides them into her ass. “Just like this?” he confirms. He’d tried to fuck her with them the first time they tried it, but Nico hadn’t been able to take the feeling. It was better like this, the just-enough sensation of fullness that enhances the sparking pleasure of Mark’s tongue in her pussy.

“Uh huh,” Nico replies roughly. Her eyes slowly flutter closed, but then Mark puts his mouth on her clit, and at that very moment, her phone vibrates insistently against her chest.

Nico flips the phone open instinctively. It’s a text. From Jenson.

room number? in a cab now xx

Nico rolls her eyes and quickly types a response. you missed your chance. busy. Technically, Mark hadn’t been her first choice.

Jenson’s reply follows embarrassingly quickly. who?? seb? lewis?

someone whos better at eating pussy than you.

Nico lets the phone fall back against her collarbone with a dull thump and glances down between her thighs, where Mark is staring up at her with a patently unimpressed expression.

“Who was that?” he asks.

“Just Jenson, being annoying. You can keep going.”

Mark shakes his head with a soft little sigh. “Yes, your highness,” he replies sarcastically.

Any potential retort from Nico gets sucked into the back of her throat as soon as he gets his mouth on her again. She likes getting eaten out by Mark better than almost anyone. He’s patient, almost lazy with it in a way that sparks pleasure all the way up her spine, sending electric tingles down her arms and legs and along the crown of her scalp. It’s almost nonsexual, really—or maybe it would be without his fingers in her ass, heightening the feeling of him methodically licking into her.

When her phone vibrates again, Nico can’t help but look. She doesn’t need to concentrate now that Mark has gotten into the rhythm, her thighs loose and slack, head floaty.

so mark then, Jenson writes. did he make u cum yet? x

no.

bitch!

Nico assumes that comment is directed at Mark. Jenson fancies himself a key player in some kind of battle for Nico’s heart—or maybe just her cunt—but Nico is pretty sure Mark doesn’t even know the war exists. Come to think of it, Seb and Lewis probably don’t either. It might just be Jenson.

still busy, Nico sends back. Mark is being a little rougher with her now. Sloppier.

“Can you try another finger?” she asks.

Mark lifts up a little, nods, and then slides both fingers out to reapply the lube.

Getting the third in takes a bit more effort. It’s a few minutes before Nico finally relaxes around the stretch of it, even when Mark is tongue-deep in her pussy again, licking hard at the underside of her clit until she practically melts into the pillows. Her phone buzzes every so often against her chest, but it’s a few minutes before Nico calms down enough to take another peek.

Jenson has practically sent her a dissertation in the meantime.

ur such a slut xx

want me 2 cum fuk u after he leaves?

i cud bring alonso n we cud both fuk u

im durnk sry i wont bring alonso xxxx

briitney britney britneyyyyy

u shud send me a pic of ur pussy plz im so hard 4 u xx

Attached is a picture of Jenson’s hand wrapped around his cock, and the shock of it makes Nico clench down embarrassingly hard around Mark’s fingers.

Nico is tempted to send a picture back, but she doesn’t want to piss Mark off even more than she already has, and she thinks that maybe using him to sext Jenson might finally exceed the limits of his patience with her.

later, Nico replies. what are you thinking about?

It takes Jenson a little longer to text back this time. fuking u on the podium. want every1 2 see wot a slut u r. gunna spread open ur pussy & show u off. my tight wet whore xx u’ll let me do anything ya?

It’s the kind of thing that wouldn’t be sexy if Nico wasn’t already devastatingly turned on. Jenson should probably send Mark a gift basket in thanks. On any other given night, she probably would have turned off her phone and gone to sleep by now.

yeah? your going to fuck my little pussy in front of everyone? make me take it?

gunna make u ride me & pour champagne all over ur tits xx

“Are you even paying attention?” Mark asks out of nowhere, sounding genuinely irked now as he lifts his head again to glare over the top of Nico’s phone at her.

“Yes,” Nico replies automatically. “Sorry.” But she doesn’t put the phone down.

Mark releases a heavy sigh. “Can I fuck you, then? If you’re not gonna…?”

Nico nods, her fingers already moving across the keys to type out another reply. want mark to watch me cum on your cock. “Just don’t come in my pussy, okay?” she tells Mark. want you to knock me up so everyone knows im yours.

The very first push of Mark’s cock into her pussy is a bit startling, but Nico is wet enough that she settles into the feeling quickly. She likes it when Mark is a bit rough with her, but he’s not giving it a hundred percent yet, instead just establishing a deep, steady rhythm until he’s bottoming out inside her on every thrust.

It’s nice, but it isn’t quite enough. Nico holds her breath until Jenson texts back again.

did u cum yet

no, she says. did you?

no want 2 see ur ruined pussy after hes done w u

Nico feels another hot flash of arousal deep in her core, and she’s just starting to craft an adequate response in her mind when Mark abruptly pulls out of her.

“What are you doing?” Nico asks, confused as to why he’s knelt between her thighs with his hand moving over his cock with purpose.

“You said not to come in your pussy,” Mark says matter-of-factly.

And then just like that, he guides himself into the tight clutch of her ass, the stretch of his fingers and the leftover lube slicking the way as he slides into her in one smooth motion.

Nico blacks out for a moment, or she thinks she does. It’s hard to think around how overwhelming it feels to be filled so completely, how good it feels. She can feel her ass clenching down around Mark’s cock, the movements wholly involuntary, her body unable to adapt to the newness of the sensation as Mark thrusts in and out of her without stopping, the pleasure of it so mind-numbing that she can’t open her mouth to ask him to stop, wait.

She comes like that, without meaning to, her pussy empty, spasming around nothing, both too much and not enough. There are no fireworks, no bone-deep satisfaction, just the feeling of Mark splitting her open and a nearly unbearable curl of pleasure in the cradle of her hips lingering like an itch she can’t reach.

Her phone vibrates again. This time, Mark takes it from her.

Nico watches as he deftly flips the phone open with his thumb, his eyes scanning the screen quickly. He keeps fucking her even while he carefully types out a message on the keypad, the movements of his thumb clumsy but purposeful. He doesn’t tell her what he’s typing. He fucks her even harder when he’s done.

Nico has to wait until Mark drops the phone back down onto her heaving stomach before she can see what he’s sent. There’s a picture.

The angle is one she’s never seen before of herself: legs open, cunt messy with her own come, all ruddy and swollen from Mark’s mouth and her own orgasm. She’s stretched obscenely wide around Mark’s cock, her hole straining around him in a way that makes her pussy twitch even though she’s just come less than a minute ago.

The accompanying text is short and to the point, a devastatingly succinct reply to Jenson’s rather uninspired: wot is he doing???

I’m in Britney’s ass. - M

#f1 smut #f1 rpf #summerofcum2023 #princess cake #my fic #no idea what the ship name is for mark/nico or if there even is one #yes nico has a pink motorola razr #duh

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itsscottiesstark · 4 months

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If you haven't watched Around the world in 80 days with David, or if you simply don't want to get your heart broken by a Fogg x Crowley comparison, you should maybe scroll past this.

Oh, you're still here? Good.

Imagine this: It's been a few months since Aziraphale left. Crowley has been spending them drinking and sleeping away the days, ever since the second the angel disappeared from his eyes.

He hasn't been in contact with anyone, ignoring Muriel's attempts to get him out of there.

And he won't talk about it. He can't talk about it.

So, one day, Muriel stops by his flat to check up on him, finds him deliriously drunk, slumped over at the feet of his couch, probably fell during his attempt to grab another bottle and couldn't possibly get back up.

He's slurring, his hair a mess, his clothes rumpled. He must have at some point ripped his shirt open, maybe in despair or simple overheating, because Muriel could see his now bare chest, bracketed by his shirt, but there were buttons scattered around him.

Muriel hurries over to his side, grabs his hands and tries to get his attention.

"Mister Crowley?" They take his hand in theirs and give it a firm squeeze. "Please, Mister Crowley?" The demon won't look at them. "Crowley?!" They say, unintentionally in a similar way Aziraphale used to call out his name when he was worried.

His eyes slowly open and attempt to focus on the blurry, blindingly white image in front of him. Muriel repeats his name, and Crowley finally speaks.

"Aziraphale...?" His eyes are as open as he could get them, but the image is fuzzy as ever. Still, there's only one person his unimaginably drunk brain wants to see, so that's what he sees.

"No, it's me, Muriel," they try and correct him, but he doesn't seem to be able to listen. Or even care.

"My darling Aziraphale, you came back! I always knew you would." A couple of tears escape the demon's eyes, his glasses nowhere to be seen to cover them up as usual. "I always knew," he repeats, his voice breaking. "Well, no, I didn't know, but I hoped." He attempts to squeeze the warm hand still holding his. "I dreamed," comes a whisper.

"Mister Crowley-" Muriel attempts again, but gets interrupted once again.

Crowley brings their joined hands on his naked chest. "Feel my heart, Aziraphale," he whines his name. "It's always been yours. Waiting for you." He's properly crying now, sobs escape his mouth but there's also a faint smile there. "Now you're finally here, I can tell you everything!"

Muriel couldn't stand interrupting him again, he was smiling. Clearly, his own brain was deceiving him, but he was smiling.

He told them, thinking it was Aziraphale, about his travels. His blessings, when he was doing Aziraphale's job. And then he told them about his blessings, when he definitely wasn't doing Aziraphale's job.

"I saved a young boy's life!"

"That's wonderful," Muriel cooed.

"I just want you to be proud of me," Crowley admitted. "Just once." He looked them in the eyes, or tried to, anyway. "You see, angel, I've been alone for such a very long time. You were right to go. To leave me."

Muriel wanted to stop him, comfort him, tell him he was wrong. But he didn't seem to want to hear anything they had to say. So they remained silent.

"I could never have been good enough for you, I think you knew that from the start." His voice was now raw with emotion, no more whining. It was as if he was numb to those things he was saying. Like he'd accepted them. "I think we both knew."

With that, he closed his eyes and went to sleep. Soon, soft snores started coming from his mouth, replacing the heartbreaking sobs.

Around the world in 80 days, 2021. Episode 4.

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shina913 · 1 year

Text

Cortado | KNJ

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-15 (SFW)

Genre: strangers to lovers; meet-cute; tooth-rotting fluff; tiny bit of angst

Warnings: some cussing; brief mention of weed; self-consciousness/insecurity; it's just disgustingly cheesy and fluffy--sorry!🥴

Word count: 4,290 words

Summary: "There must be something about trains. You never know what to expect."

A/N: Here you go, @borahae-k! This is a couple of days late because I couldn't make up my mind about what kind of Joon I wanted to write based on his Spain insta-photo dump. Eventually, I happened to remember a show I saw that I thought would be the perfect scenario for this. Also, I just want to stunt-cast Namjoon in all of my fluffy fics! Thank you, Sim @itdoesntmatterwhy for looking this over and giving me notes (and just general screaming)! I got a little too into the ending that I almost didn't want to stop writing it 💕 The banner kind of sucks but hopefully, the story makes up for that!

“The train will be leaving in ten minutes…” the announcement echoed through the station.

Your eyes flick back and forth at your surroundings. Everyone was glued to their phones and devices. You hardly remember a time and place when people actually sat down and had a solid conversation without having to pull their smartphones every second to scroll around aimlessly.

Did anybody text them? Did they get a like on their latest reel?

If it weren’t an absolute necessity for your job, you’d have yeeted your own phone into a river. While you ponder on your cynical thoughts about technology, you are startled by your own annoying little device.

You look at the screen to see who it was. Recognizing the caller, you answer, “Hey, mom.”

She asks if your train was right on schedule.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. The ride should be a little under three hours. Can you still pick me up? …Great, thanks. I’ll give you a call when I’m close so you don’t have to wait too long. …Okay…see you, bye!”

You hang up and set your phone on the table in front of you. You were lucky enough to get to the station and secure seats tucked in the back row.

It was the end of the semester and the doctorate students from your program were given the option to take a short break before beginning their new projects.

You also took advantage of that option so you could finally move the rest of your things into your new office space. The university took care of moving your furniture and other personal belongings out of your flat and into your new location. However, you decided to bring some of your books. These editions were too precious for you to entrust to some stranger.

It wasn’t ideal to be lugging this many things around during a train ride since you didn’t drive. Thankfully, the seats across from you were vacant so you had enough room to set your textbooks down, along with a box of random knick-knacks from your former flat.

Still, you didn’t want to take over the whole space so you set them all against the window, leaving some room for anybody who would like to sit across from you.

You pick up the novel that you’ve been reading and open it to your dog-eared page, hoping to stave off any unwanted conversation on the train. You were a woman, traveling alone, and would be considered a perfect target.

Although, if you were being honest…you sometimes wished you’d experience a real-life meet-cute. Strangers on a train, having a random yet perfectly meaningful conversation–kind of like the novels that you were into.

God, you were so lonely.

It’s been a while since you’ve been with someone. Admittedly, you were jealous of your friend and colleague, Youjin, who somehow manages to balance her romantic life with her post-grad work. She was an inherent social butterfly and had a talent for spinning literature from the middle ages into the most romantic, sensual talking points during her dates.

Sometimes, you wonder what it was like to kiss someone again. The feel of their lips brushing against yours. The problem was, you really didn’t get out much and didn’t see the point of forced efforts of socializing. You were typically hostile to any ‘pickup’ attempt.

You glance across the aisle to find another woman who was animatedly chatting with a couple who sat in the row behind her. They were putting away their luggage when she strikes up a conversation with them after complimenting the woman’s outfit. She twirls her hair between her fingers while they trade travel stories.

She reminded you of Youjin. Her carefree laugh and confident demeanor were qualities that you thought most men found attractive–qualities that would make them naturally approach her. And you have noticed, some of the male passengers who pass her do not hesitate to give her a once-over.

When she was done with her conversation, she settles back into her seat. For a brief moment, she turned her head in your direction, saw you looking, and gave you a friendly smile. You smiled politely back at her before she turns her attention to her phone screen.

You were not Youjin or this woman. You were an awkward bookworm who had only been on a total of one or two dates since starting your graduate program.

You put your book down carelessly on the table and shifted in your seat. Straightening your posture, you turn to glance wistfully at the view from the window and sighed.

…Maybe you could do something to change that.

After thinking about it some more, you decided that you would step out of your comfort zone and dare to engage with the next man who talks to you. The thought of it sounded ridiculous but you figured, good things happened to people who took chances.

You move your books aside to make some room. You look up and glance at other passengers who were still making their way through the car before the train departs the station.

Next, you see a man smiling and excitedly greeting everyone he passes in the aisle.

You pick up your novel again and duck your head. Too chatty, you thought. Please don’t sit here, you internally plead as you avoid eye contact.

Much to your relief, the chatty guy finds an empty spot adjacent to your seat with another woman who, like him, was an eager conversationalist.

Not far behind him was a man who looked very questionable to you. He carried his bag with him–both arms wrapped tightly around it, hugging securely against his chest as if someone was about to steal it.

He had a skittish look in his eyes that scared you. Again, you silently hoped he would sit somewhere else–which thankfully, he did.

The overhead announcement informs you that the train is leaving in two minutes. Your shoulders sag and put your book down again, feeling defeated.

Maybe it just wasn’t the time.

Seconds later, another man huffs down the aisle, dragging his bag along.

He was tall and dressed in all black–a leather jacket over a black hoodie and black pants. Dark strands fell loosely above his eye line. He raked his hair back with his fingers whilst scanning the car for any open seats.

Your heart raced a little as you attempted to subtly get his attention, inviting him to sit across from you.

He pauses and makes eye contact when he reaches your position. You nudge your books aside, beckoning him to have a seat.

“It’s free,” you say meekly.

Just when you think that he was about to settle in, he glances across the aisle and takes the open seat next to the woman who reminded you of Youjin.

Your heart sinks to your stomach just as the train pulls away from the platform.

******

The train is approaching its third stop when you start getting another call.

“Hi, this is YN.” It was the moving company.

“Oh, hi! Thanks for calling me back.” You proceeded to clarify your new delivery address since you mistakenly entered the wrong unit number. The representative on the other line was understanding, updated their records, and assured you that your things would be delivered within two business days.

”Sounds good, thank you so much!” You signed off. After you hung up, your eyes wander across the aisle and notice that Youjin’s doppelgänger had gotten up from her seat to reclaim her bag from the overhead rack.

You smiled to yourself as it left the man in black all by his lonesome.

You silently watch her walk down the aisle, toward the exit. After she had gone, you turn your head and happen to lock eyes with him again.

You cracked a smile, which he returned this time. You couldn’t help but get all flustered. He was devastatingly cute. You wished that he would drop you a cheesy line or two.

A lightbulb goes off in your head–you could initiate the conversation.

Overcoming your anxiety, you open your mouth to say something to him but are startled when the skittish guy with the backpack gets up–completely agitated–then starts yelling at the person they’re sitting next to. He accuses them of trying to steal their stuff. Seconds after his outburst, he hurriedly walks further and took an empty seat several rows down from you.

You and the man in black look at each other and grimaced.

“Man, there must be something about trains. You never know what to expect,” he muses.

“I’m not gonna lie…that actually scared the shit out of me a little bit,” you remarked. You clutched your chest, your heart still beating fast at the strange man’s outburst.

His expression immediately changes to a look of concern. “Well, either way–I’m not the type to just sit around. I wouldn’t have allowed anything to happen to you,” the man in black replies.

Although you loved romantic novels, you thought that ‘blushing’ was such a clichéd, uninspired way to describe someone who was incredibly flustered. And yet here you were…blushing at this stranger’s remark.

You mouthed your thanks to him.

“Are you coming from one of the universities?” He asks.

“How’d you guess?”

He points his chin forward and gestures at your things. ”Uhm…that pile of academic-looking books next to you,” he chuckled.

“Oh,” you remark, now blushing in embarrassment. “Yeah,” you affirm. “Some of these are rare and I personally didn’t trust anyone else to transport them.”

He bobs his head in a nod at your explanation.

“So…what do you do for work?”

“I work in tech. I was just visiting our office down south.”

You nod, thinking about how else to keep this conversation going. “Are you on your way back home?”

“Not yet. I have a friend that I’m meeting up north. I don’t drive and…although I could have taken a plane up here, I figured, why not take the scenic route,” he shares.

“Ah,” your eyebrows lift in curiosity. He struck you as somebody from out of town so you thought you could recommend a local landmark or tourist spot. “There’s a great museum up in that area–I don’t know if you’re into that kind of thing.”

“Oh, I know,” he responds. “It’s primarily why I’m going up there.”

“Oh–I…thought you said that your friend lived there?”

He chuckles. “Eh, we went to university together and he said I could crash at his place. I took it as a window of opportunity.”

You nodded. Suddenly, you felt the conversation slipping away. In a panic, you think of another random but perfectly neutral topic to bring up.

“So–”

“What are–”

You both crack up when you speak at the same time. “Uhm, why don’t you go ahead,” he urged.

“So–what does that mean, exactly? That you work ‘in tech’? I feel like, people say that all the time but I’ve never fully grasped it. I just kind of nod along.”

“Well, I work for a company that targets advertising for social media sites.”

“Oh! So you work in advertising?”

He shook his head gently. “No, I work in tech,” he corrects you. “I handle a bunch of accounts for companies and help them direct their resources properly so they don’t waste their money. We run algorithms based on…”

…And now he’s completely lost you. It’s the same thing that happens when someone tries to explain TikTok and how you can customize your ‘FYP’ settings.

“Nice,” is all you say as politely.

“What about you? What do you do for work?” He queries.

“I’m a scholar. But if you want to get specific about it, I’m a medievalist.”

He stares at you blankly. “Right,” he comments.

It was a reaction that you were used to whenever you engaged with someone outside of your field of study. “In my line of work, there’s not much technology going on there,” you say dryly.

“Maybe because processors were too slow back in those times?” He counters.

You snorted at his dorky joke. You couldn’t help but feel flutters in the pit of your belly.

“I’m sorry…this angle is killing me,” he says, gesturing at his neck. It occurred to you that you were sitting across the aisle from each other, facing the same direction that the train was moving, so he had been craning his neck while he talked to you.

“Would you mind if I sat there?” He points to the empty space in front of you.

You try not to squeal or look too eager. “Oh, of course,” you smiled politely.

“Thanks.” He gets up and takes the seat across from you. Now, you were sitting face-to-face.

“There. That’s better,” he grins. “Where were we?” He asks, hoping to pick up your earlier conversation.

You laugh nervously and fidget with your book. “Gosh, I can’t remember now.” You were frazzled–he didn’t just look good from a distance. He was even more handsome up close. You were in big trouble.

“Actually,” you piped up, snapping out of your haze. “Can I ask you a random question?”

“Sure,” he answers.

“When you were coming down the aisle earlier–what made you decide to sit next to her when you had the option of the two seats?” You were referring to the woman who had just gotten off the train.

“Ah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just prefer to sit facing in the direction the train is going. I have a small issue with motion sickness,” he confesses shyly.

Your chest twinges at his admission. At the same time, you feel a small sense of relief knowing that he wasn’t put off by you for whatever reason.

“Now you’re facing the opposite way,” you point out to him.

“Right, but I’m facing you so my little quirk can take a back seat.” He shrugged, “It’s not a big deal, you know. It’s not like it dominates my life or anything crazy like that.”

“Would you like to switch seats?” You offer kindly.

“Yes, I would love that. Thank you,” he immediately responds in relief. You both rise from your seats, sidestepping and shuffling in the aisle to switch places. The train hits an uneven part of the track knocking you off balance so you grab onto the first thing you could to keep yourself upright.

Your breath hitches when you cling onto his bicep and elbow. He had removed his leather jacket now and didn’t have that extra layer on him. You felt slightly inappropriate at the invasive but purely accidental contact with his body.

“S-sorry,” you mumble as you let go of him and carefully settle into the opposite seat.

“That’s okay, it happens,” he says in consolation. “Where are you traveling to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, I’m moving to my new place…which also happens to be really close to my hometown so my mom is coming to pick me up from the station to stay with her for a couple of days. It’s just until I get my stuff delivered,” you rationalized.

“You say that with a hint of anxiety,” he points out. You appreciate how perceptive he seems to be so you take that as your cue to open up a bit more.

“I enjoyed living far from her these last few years. And the idea of coming back home for a couple of days…” you inhale through clenched teeth, “It’s a little daunting. But don’t get me wrong–” you immediately add, “I love her…it’s just that I can only take her in small doses these days.”

He smiled in commiseration.

“Plus, she’s also in this phase where she’s given up watching TV or having WiFi.”

“What?” He says, clearly taken aback.

You giggled. “I don’t know. I think that she’s going through some mid-life crisis.”

“Damn…no WiFi? Sheesh,” he shook his head, thinking that he didn’t want to be in that same predicament.

“Yeah. Although, in doing all that–she’s recently focused her energy on the arts and other simple things. She paints, writes poetry, listens to talk radio…tends to her plants.”

“Wow,” he says, sounding impressed.

“And she also rediscovered the benefits of weed so–”

“Ahah,” he chuckled. “I knew there was a catch!”

Your mom always waxed poetic about how she used to be such a free spirit when she was younger. Maybe you could pick up a few pointers from her.

“That’s funny… She kind of sounds like my brother–minus all of the creative, artsy, mid-life renaissance parts.”

You laugh at the little bit of personal information that he shares with you.

“He’s like Snoop Dogg, Willie Nelson, and all of Woody Harrelson’s performances rolled into one…giant joint.”

“He sounds very interesting,” you laughed.

“Yeah, maybe he and your mom can link up,” he jokes.

You were pleased with how long you’d kept this conversation going. And you had to commend your social battery for staying strong!

“So…tell me about medievalism,” he says.

You chuckled at that. “Like, in one sentence?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

You roll your eyes subtly. “Of course you’d want an elevator pitch since you work in advertising.”

He clicked his teeth. “Tech. I work in tech,” he emphasizes while keeping his tone light.

You blew out a breath and shifted in your seat. “I don’t think I can explain what medievalism is in one train ride let alone one sentence.”

He nods in acquiescence. “I get it.”

“You seem to be the type who likes things that are straightforward. Kind of like a…’what you see is what you get’ kind of thing, right?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

You hummed. “Well…I like things that take a bit more time to define. Things that can’t be easily explained. Things with multiple layers that you have to peel back, only to discover that there are more layers to uncover…more questions and answers that have yet to be revealed.”

“Kind of like an onion?”

You lift a shoulder. “Yeah, if you want to simplify it. Just like an onion.”

“Right but couldn’t you just cut right through the center of it? Get right to the point?”

You laughed. “Sure…but where’s the fun in that?”

He pursed his lips, leaned back against the seat, and nodded softly at your point.

“It’s like…” You clicked your teeth, trying to find the right metaphor for it. “It’s like this neverending prologue, you know?” Your expression softens. “Because once you begin reading a story…you know that the end is coming.”

“I’m the opposite, I guess,” he counters. “I’d like to think that I’m more practical and tend to see things from a logical perspective. What is this thing called, show me how it works; how does it fit into the big picture? I don’t think like a scholar. I prefer to know things that I can apply to my daily life.”

“That’s fair,” you say to him, acknowledging his point of view.

Then, after gathering up more courage, you tell him, “I’m really glad that you came to sit here with me.”

“Yeah?”

“Better than the other guy who looked like a murderer,” you say in jest.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Who?” Then his face visibly relaxes when remembers who you were referring to. He cranes his neck to take a peek at the guy who sat a few rows down from you.

When he turns his attention back to you, his expression darkened. He rests his elbows on the table, fingers steepled, while he leaned closer to you.

Squaring his jaw, he says, “I’ve got news for you, YN…you’ve made a fatal mistake.”

You recoil slightly. “Huh?”

He continued, his tone growing threatening. “I’m the murderer here. I’m sorry to tell you that this is a thriller and not the romance novel that you pictured.”

Your brows knit in utter confusion. Your pulse raised while you contemplated throwing your heavier, hard-bound books at him to defend yourself.

After a few beats of silence and intense eye contact, you see the corner of his mouth twitch. It effectively eased the tension and you both break into laughter.

“Holy shit, you should have seen your face,” he says in between cackles.

“Oh my–do not ever do that!” You were also relieved to find an even bigger nerd than you were.

After catching your breath, you switch tact. “By the way, how do you know my name?”

“I kind of overheard your phone conversation earlier. Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I’m Namjoon.” You smile and shake his hand after he introduces himself.

“I didn’t realize that you were paying attention,” you say.

“Yeah…I just…I don’t know,” he scrambled for an answer but failed.

“And who said anything about romance?” You cock an eyebrow at him and he turns sheepish.

Now it was his turn to look all flustered.

******

You don’t know how it happened but it’s been nearly three hours since you and Namjoon were completely lost in conversation. You bounced from one subject to another, rarely missing a beat. It felt so easy to talk to him. Presumptuous as it was, you felt a connection there.

The intercom announces that your stop was approaching in a few minutes. Hearing that takes you by surprise—and you also realize that you got so carried away that you forgot to call your mom to give her a heads-up on your arrival.

Your face falters when you take your things, which he kindly offers to help gather. His expression turned sober as well, unsure how to move forward. His destination was still an hour away.

When this train ride began, all you hoped for was a random, real-life meet-cute. Then Namjoon came along and now you felt torn between wanting to live out some fantasy or pursuing this real-life thing…whatever this thing is.

“Well…uhm…i-it was really nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Same,” you reply.

“You made the journey feel a lot shorter than usual.” Your cheeks warm at the compliment.

There you were, face-to-face–lips pursed, looking like you were both trying to gauge each other’s thoughts.

And you didn’t know why, but all that confidence you felt earlier seemed to be slipping from your grasp. It occurred to you once more that this was real life, not a romance novel.

In the end, you would walk off this train feeling grateful that a guy like him had even taken a remote interest in you.

“I guess, I should be going now,” you muttered.

“Oh…y-yeah,” he stutters.

You get up and he follows suit. “Would you think it inappropriate if I were to give you a hug?” He asks.

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

With your consent, he opens his arms wide and wraps you in them. You inhale deeply, taking his scent in, further torturing yourself.

You both pull away reluctantly. With a heavy heart, you approached the car doors to wait for the train to slow into a halt…until the loud screeching of the breaks knocks some sense into you.

Did you really want to go through the rest of your life living vicariously through Youjin’s outrageous escapades?

It was now or never, you thought. You had to take a chance!

“Namjoon?” You turn around abruptly to face him again.

“Yeah?” He responds nervously.

“I never do this but–would you like to get off the train with me? We could get some coffee and…keep talking?” The words spill out of you a little too quickly.

You wait an agonizing few seconds for his response.

Then, his face breaks into the most boyish, absolutely knock-your-socks-off grin. He smiled so broadly that even when he relaxed his mouth, the creases of his dimples were still evident on his cheeks.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He stands up and hurriedly grabs his bag overhead and walks towards you. Smiling, he takes a few books off your hands and you both off-board the train. As soon as you step onto the platform together, it began to drizzle so you both run for cover.

You both laugh while watching the rain start to pour from the skies. You glance sideways at him to find him grinning while staring at you.

Asking him for coffee was already a huge step out of your comfort zone. But something about Namjoon–the connection you shared and how easy and natural everything felt.

As cheesy as it was, you decide to take another huge leap.

Seizing the moment, you say, “You ever wonder what it’s like to kiss in the rain?”

Without a word, he sets his things down. Oh no…you’ve royally screwed it up now. He looked like he might run off in the other direction. Mortified, you wished you could go back in time and take it all back.

But the rom-com gods were watching and they liked what they saw. They decide to throw you a bone.

He surprises you and takes steps backward– under the pouring rain. He was soaked in seconds.

He held his hands out to you and says, “C’mon, now’s our chance!”

Giggling, you clumsily throw your things next to his, run into his arms, and kiss him.

It was…just as perfect as you imagined it would be. You melted into the kiss, swept away by the sheer lushness of it. Your heart pounded fast, synchronized with the raindrops that pelted you.

His lips moved against yours at a soft and leisurely pace. That wasn’t to say they weren’t eager…because you surely felt it.

When you finally come up for air, you both laugh. You stood there drenched, with your foreheads pressed against each other’s and his arms securely wrapped around your waist.

It was the perfect ending to your romantic novel. …Or was this just the beginning?

Main Fic Masterlist

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#bts fan fiction #namjoon x reader #namjoon #btshoneyhive #thekpopuniverse #bangtantheatrenet #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #bts namjoon #bts kim namjoon #bts fluff #cortado x knj

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