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angelaiswriting · 3 years

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The Contest (3 of 7) | some R6S guys x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Glaz x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: Dominic Brunsmeier can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut when it comes to eating pussy, and that’s how Y/N finds herself being drafted to be the judge of this pussy-eating contest. It’s Timur’s turn. (Straight out of a dream @kind-wolf had)

✏️ A/N: this man is so sweet :’) I hope I did him justice lmk

✏️ Warnings: 18+ only (oral f/r, fingering)

✏️ Word-count: 2,585

✏️ The links to the other parts are in the masterlist linked in my bio.

<< part two: elias << | PART THREE: TIMUR | >> part four: alexsandr >>

When she woke up the next morning, Y/N barely had the time to think back about the afternoon before, that she got pulled into a meeting with Harry right after breakfast. He had wanted to know how she was doing after one year in the organization, if she felt she needed or wanted more space for improvement; in general: update her file with new pieces of information and chat a bit before he sent her off to do some weapon testing of her own.

Weapon testing had taken up more time than she had anticipated, with some of the mechanisms malfunctioning and causing her more cussing than she was used to. She had had to spend the second half of the morning in the weapon-testing facility, fixing things here and there and modifying the blueprints before Alexsandr’s voice boomed through the speakers unexpectedly and sent the screwdriver she had in one hand flying behind her.

Y/N, LUNCH IS READY. WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE TRAINING TOGETHER TODAY. DON’T BE LATE OR YOU’LL PAY THE CONSEQUENCES!

Alex was fun. He had been the first person she had bonded with when she had joined Rainbow and he had taken her under his wing, and she knew that that you’ll pay the consequences of his didn’t involve anything negative. Slaving off after him for a day or two, sure, but she had been through it already and it wasn’t that bad a thing — and she knew he was too smart to make a false step now that his pride as a pussy eater could be at stake.

Still, she laughed at his antics and hurried to finish her task. Inputting the data on her tablet didn’t take much but just as she was about to switch it off, Timur popped up in her mind and she cussed under her breath. He had texted her the night before, as it had become custom for the contest, and she had told him she had her afternoon free, but things had changed when Alex had had to reschedule their training and she had been so caught up in everything she had had to do that morning that she… forgot.

It made her feel bad, even if so for just a split moment, because Timur was a really sweet man that deserved better than that. But when she met him as she was hurrying towards the mess hall to have a quick lunch, he met her halfway there, he himself on his way to his duties, and told her Sanya had already notified him for her.

But then, more testing came up after lunch and that kept her busy until almost halfway through the afternoon, when Alexsandr had barged into the room and had physically dragged her to the gym for their training session.

Now, what felt like twenty years later, she found herself sore all over in Glaz’s dorm room as he painted something with his watercolors.

It was a very peaceful night and although part of her was dying to know who the next contestant would be, she was glad none of the guys had sent her a text scheduling an appointment between her legs. She was as ready for Timur as she could be, after the truly endless day she had had, but that was it: after the man was done, all she wanted to do was sleep for twelve hours straight and say to hell with any duties she had the following day.

“What are you painting?” she asked at some point, when he stood up to go take some clean water for his brushes. From her position on his bed, although she was sitting up against his pillow and the wall with her legs crossed in front of her, she couldn’t see what was on the sketchbook laying out open on his desk.

“A bird,” he hummed with a smile when he came back. “I enjoy painting them,” he continued, voice soft and soothing as she listened with a smile of her own on her face. “Their plumage helps me relax and destress.” Then, when she didn’t answer, he turned back toward her, one arm wrapped around the back of his chair, and asked her whether she wanted him to hurry up, or to just stop and switch to what she was there for.

But she really enjoyed watching him paint; she found peace in the silence of the room as she stared at how delicately he seemed to swipe the brush over the paper, and so he continued. By the time he was done, she had wrapped herself in the towel she had stolen from him when she had marched into his room declaring she needed a shower. right. fucking. now and the stress of the day seemed entire lifetimes from her, relaxed as she was on his bed.

He smiled when he saw her there like that, eyelids heavy as she seemed on the verge of dozing off. And exactly like that she felt, her limbs loose and heavy at the same time, with a soft smile slowly stretching on her lips when she noticed him staring.

“Do you want to postpone it?” he asked, standing up to put his tools away before grabbing the plastic cups with now colored water in his hands. “No problem for me. We can do it whenever you feel like it.”

She considered it for a moment, her tongue too heavy and almost asleep to be able to form sounds just yet. But then she shook her head no, told him she was more than happy to proceed, and he disappeared into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before coming back into the room.

He sat on the edge of the mattress, then, and turned back to look at her. “How do you want to do it?”

He seemed so considerate, she thought. So sweet, in a way, and for a second, she wondered whether he was okay with all that or if he had just joined the challenge because Dominic Brunsmeier knew how to be a pain in the ass, when it came to sex most of all. But then, fuck it, she thought: Timur Glazkov was just as adult a man as she was a woman and if he had preferred not to join, then he would have done just that.

“This is up to you,” she replied, sitting back up and pulling her knees into her chest. She rested her chin on them and looked at him with a smirk on her face. “It’s your time to play. Woo me! You really have free range, just follow the rules.”

He walked the fingers of one hand on the dark blue bedding covering his mattress and a sly smile stretched on his lips. “So I can do anything I want?” he wondered out loud, fingers wrapping around her left ankle to give it a light tug.

The gesture made her chuckle lowly. “Almost anything, yeah.”

“Then I want to kiss you,” he deadpanned, even though for just a split second, before giving her ankle another tug, almost as if to prompt her to come closer.

She complied with his silent demand and pulled up just enough to move to him on her knees and when she was close enough, he picked her up and pulled her onto his lap.

“I like the sound of your laughter.”

He was smiling down at her, both with his lips and with his eyes, and her fingers came up to trace the line of his stubbled jaw as she smiled back. The blue of his eyes seemed to tend towards gray tones in the lights of his bedroom and she found herself unable to look away as she wondered how the fuck someone like him could still be single.

Then, before she even had the time to answer back with a pun or something, his hands moved over her buttcheeks through her towel, pulled her flush against his chest and bent his head down to kiss her.

The kiss was soft and sweet, and she could taste the minty aftertaste of his toothpaste on his tongue as it glided over hers. His light stubble tickled the skin of her face, but she could barely focus on that feeling when he was kissing her sanity away little by little, one hand cupping the back of her head and the fingers of the other splayed on her low back, almost as if to prevent her from moving away.

He was a good kisser. She had always thought Dominic knew his way around lips and tongues, but Timur’s gentle ways had her squirming in his lap much quicker than she would ever be willing to admit. The blood seemed to thrum and boil underneath her skin and when she pulled her head back to breathe, her mind now dizzy both from the kiss itself and the lack of oxygen, his lips moved along the line of her jaw and then started suckling on the skin of her neck. And the more he proceeded, painfully slowly, the more her neck tilted to the side, granting him access.

Then, his lips latched onto that sweet spot on her neck and as he suckled a gentle hickey into it, she wasn’t able to stop that whiny moan from crawling up her throat, nor was she able to help the bucking of her hips as that heavy sensation of something building up spread through her body.

He was half-hard against her as her bare pussy dragged along the front of his pants, and the knowledge that he was probably enjoying this just as much as she was made her head spin.

“Can I take the towel off of you?” He had to repeat his question a few times before her mind registered it, and each time his lips and his murmuring moved closer to her ear and his right hand moved lower down her thigh.

“Rip it off, do whatever you want,” and she pulled him back for a kiss, his lips soft and pliant against hers as she kissed him less gently this time, her hands on either side of his face. There was no need to hide the hunger burning through her veins, nor was there a point in doing so, not when he had to end up with her legs wrapped around his head anyway.

She didn’t even have time to acknowledge the somewhat cold air of the room making her skin tingle when the towel came off, that he had moved a hand over one of her breasts to give it an almost experimental squeeze before he rolled the nipple between two fingers. Blood rushed to her cheeks when her last conscious brain cells realized she was a moaning mess before he had even put his hands between her legs.

He leaned her back a bit, then, and those last strands of consciousness faded further away the more his lips trailed down her neck and then her chest before settling on a nipple. Both of his hands had moved to her back to keep her up, and while her hands were in his hair, her pelvis had ended up closer to him than before, now pressed up against the crotch of his pants and the erection they were so bad at concealing.

“Mouth. Pussy.” Much like her thoughts, her words came out disconnected when she reluctantly remembered those same stupid rules she had come up with. Because who was she to stop a man from driving her delirious with just his mouth on her tits and his hard cock just a pair of jeans away from being pressed against her pussy?

She was barely aware of him chuckling deep in his throat, but her senses did zero in on that hand of his moving across her abdomen until his thumb was circling her clit.

“Now, please,” was all she managed to let out before he turned to lay her down on the mattress and he kneeled on the floor with her legs hiked over his shoulders.

He still teased her, though, kissed the inside of one thigh before moving to the other, avoiding her throbbing core. He growled something, then, something she didn’t quite catch through the haze that had taken over her mind, and he traced her entrance with two fingers before slightly pulling the skin of her prepuce up and giving her clit a lick.

She whined, a sound so deep in her throat — and probably in her soul as well — that she barely recognized it. Both of her hands blindly reached out for his head and when her fingers combed through his hair, she pulled closer to her and it was then that he started eating her out.

His tongue flicked her clit and although for just a minute, two of his fingers fucked her in a come-here motion before he slipped both hands under he buttcheeks, pulled her forward and started his relentless work towards her orgasm.

He was loud — well, louder than she had expected him to be, at least, and her mind was swimming in his moaning and grunting when he pushed one finger back inside her. And then two.

Her skin was burning and when he moved one hand to grab her tit, she barely realized how painfully her fingers must have been tugging at his hair.

“Y/N.” His voice sounded faint and distant and the more he called her name to make her focus on him, the more aware of the tensing in her thighs she became. “Look at me.”

She did her best to do as she was told, and although her head felt as heavy as a rock when she raised it to trail her gaze down her body, she still ended up locking eyes with him. They crinkled when he smiled, the blue of his irises darker than it had been earlier, and then she was gone. Her head fell back, hit the bedsheets, and her butt arched into the mattress almost in the attempt of pulling back from his mouth, only a drawled-out moan falling from her lips.

He kept going, albeit more gently and with less intensity, until she came down from her high and her eyes put the ceiling of his room back into focus. Her fingers were still gripping strands of his hair, but he didn’t seem to complain.

When he moved away and she looked down at him, she caught him just in time to see him suck his fingers clean before her eyes rolled into her skull at the sight.

“Not bad for someone with his mom’s milk still on his upper lip, eh?” he joked, referring back to what Dom had said the night the contest was born.

She laughed breathlessly at that while with a hand she motioned for him to move up her body. “Yeah, not bad at all,” she chuckled, cupping his face in her hands and pulling him down for another kiss.

He tasted of her — something she should have expected, really, but it still made her moan deep in her chest and buck her hips against his.

“I gotta go now, though,” she warned, his forehead pressed against hers. “Before I end up fucking you and breaking my own rules.”

“That good?” he smirked, pelvis nestling between her legs and pressing up against her.

A chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself too much, though, Glazkov.”

Feedback is always welcome if you want to drop old me a line 💛

Original pic used: https://www.pexels.com/photo/white-clouds-and-blue-sky-4870972/

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sleephyjhs · 4 years

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forget-me-not | pjm

pairing: jimin x original character

genre: angst, ex-lovers AU

summary: breaking his heart the first time around ripped you to shreds, having to do it for the second time was close enough to unbearable. out of everybody he could’ve remembered, it just had to be you.

wc: 2.3k

song rec: miss missing you - fall out boy

m.list

tw: mentions of accidents, hospital setting, amnesia

“No, he only wants you. He’s got you on the brain.” The phonecall that kickstarted your Sunday morning was nothing short of overwhelming. Even your sounding alarm would have been a more welcoming alert to waken to, “You have to come and see him.”

Exhaling down the phone, you raked your fingers through your knotted bed hair and sank back into your warmed pillows, “Why do you need me? We haven’t spoken in months, it’s just unnecessary.”

His name lived constantly in your mind; it hadn’t left since the night he did. The time that had passed between the breakup and that Sunday morning was time you could’ve spent wondering about something other than what you did so wrong to come back to his tapes boxes and stuffed suitcases. Reuniting with Jimin after so long was a can of worms you were unprepared to pry open.

“Haewon, he doesn’t know who the fuck any of us are. Do you really think if he knew who we were he’d be asking for you?” It was relieving to see that time hadn’t shrunk his ego. Initially, there were many things you came to miss about Jimin but his friendship group could never have been one of them. With conceit as strong as theirs, their related influence on Jimin was never noticeable; that much you appreciated.

Still, the draining compulsion to punch them returned to you as strong as ever, “What ward is he in?”

“R6, south wing. Hurry up, the nurses can’t get anything out of him, you’re the only hope we’ve got.” As Jimin’s friend hung up the phone, remains of guilt and anger drowned you. Everything that you’d thought you’d managed to suppress was now swallowing you whole; the guilt of knowing you did something to make him up and leave, and the anger of never knowing what it could’ve been.

The process of making yourself look somewhat presentable took even more effort than usual; the unusual circumstances you’d awoken into needed to render before you could even begin to believe what had happened. Considering the rush of a city in the early morning, you skipped the makeup routine and accepted the mean comments that were bound to be hurled at you. Last night’s jeans and tee would have to do; it wasn’t as though you had anyone to impress anyway.

Even the radio was unable to draw your thoughts away from Jimin. Receiving a call from Jimin’s best friend could only mean trouble, and you wanted none of the mess that had been created overnight. It had been mere weeks since you gave your peace on the end of your relationship, yet here you were, willingly ripping open the stitches that now bound your heart together.

Maybe you appeared strange in the elevator - flushing all shades of pink - but you couldn’t seem to help it. Not only was your situation unprecedented, but you had no idea what sight you’d be greeted with. Jimin’s friend wouldn’t let up how bad the accident was, and despite the pain he’d given you, never could you wish for him to receive it back.

R6, south wing; it was further away than you’d remembered. It was always strikingly obvious that you’d wandered away from the commotion of a hospital when the bustling visitors exchanged with surgeons and nurses, coated in their same minty scrubs. The lack of casual clothing in the corridors haunted you; it only seemed as though you were edging further from civilisation with each step.

Buzzing the security intercom increased the building pressure in your lungs. As you cleansed your hands with provided gel, any predictions of what might be waiting for you behind the doors suddenly evacuated. Although he may have, your attachment to Jimin has never truly abandoned you; once upon a time, he was your best friend.

Ambulating down the sapphire linoleum, you counted the enclosures of hospital beds. Fourth from the right was your intended destination. One; empty. The landscape of empty beds inside was almost as depressing as a full room. Two; full. Silence fell upon 4 conscious patients who all stared into the same space. Three; weeping family. Expecting anything less from a trauma unit would have been foolish even for you, but the extremes of human emotion were perhaps all too much for a Sunday morning.

And then, you came to four. Through the moderately open shutters, you stole the first glimpse of Jimin you’d had in months. Your view was blocked by his crowded friends; the worst of it was approaching.

“Excuse me?” A voice from behind introduced. Startled, you turned to meet conversation, not expecting to be greeted by a nurse, “Are you Ms. Haewon?”

You nodded politely, remaining unsure what to expect. The nurse returned her eyes to the clipboard she cradled and shrewdly, you copied, “Thank you for coming at such short notice, you seem to be the only person he can name.”

“What happened? To him, I mean.”

“A car accident. He’s lucky to say the least. I’m glad I caught you before you entered.” Her abrupt statements couldn’t calm your ever-trembling hands; coming here was surely a mistake, ”I’m sure you’ve gathered that what you’re about to walk into isn’t going to be easy. Whatever he says to you is his own version of reality, no matter how far from the truth it really is. I’d like to advise you against correcting him for the time being, it’s better for the recovery process if he is allowed time to adjust.”

You flattened your lips, finally coming to realise how serious Jimin’s accident actually had been. Being left to only remember your time together must’ve been more pain than he knew, but he didn’t.

After thanking the nurse, you brushed your hands on your jeans to dry the accumulated sweat on your palms and exhaled breath you didn’t know you were holding. Not a single word of preparation scrolled through your mind as you turned the corner into the room.

All eyes fell upon you, including Jimin’s. Arrangements of purple and mouldy yellow bloomed from his brow to jaw, following a delicate manoeuvre down his cheek. Clear tubes were strung from the back of his hand to several bags of various liquids. To say the resemblance to a marionette doll was uncanny would have been an understatement, “Haewon!”

Conjuring the equal amount of enthusiasm to see Jimin pointlessly unachievable. Even seeing your worst enemy in such a bad state wouldn’t have changed the torment struggling inside your mind.

Softening your eyes, you fixed upon his sable eyes and released a gentle smile, “Hi, Jimin.”

The simple greeting was all you could muster. It was pathetic, but it would have to do. By the window, one of Jimin’s friends pulled faces to his own reflection. Usually distracted by small aggravations, all of your attention remained devoted to Jimin. You were here for him, no one else.

“I managed to end up in hospital. Do you know why?” The tails of his eyebrows sunk into his temples. Dancing around topics in fear of confusing him more was risky. Following his own lead in conversation was the only way to avoid slipping up; all you could hope is that what you were doing was the best for him.

The rolling eyes of his cornered friend enraged you. Assuming he would have any feelings of compassion was ridiculous, “I know.” You places your bag gently on the floor and perched on one of the plastic meeting chairs beside the bed, “Do you know why..?”

Before your question had finished, the monotonous shaking of his head swung against his pillow, “There’s strange people here, they won’t go away.”

At the sound of his words, Jimin’s friend turned away from the window to watch his injured friend. You hated him with your whole being, but watching him be shut out by Jimin was unfair. Of course, there was nothing that could be helped, but an overhanging guilt began to overshadow you, “They’re here to help you, Jimin. You were in a car accident, and you can’t get better by yourself. They’ll help you as much as they can.”

Soft smiles were all you could offer for comfort. Embracing him in any kind of way was sure enough to damage him further. Porcelain would have appeared stronger than Jimin; another crack in his dainty exterior guaranteed him to shatter.

Fiddling with your fingernails allowed you to witness Jimin’s hand creep down the bed. The transparent tubes stretched to follow his roaming digits; his palm blossomed and tiny cuts, most likely made by broken glass, scattered over his calluses. Holding his hand was not a task you had signed up for, but then, Jimin never asked to remember you.

Slipping your hand against Jimin’s was strange to say the least. His familiar warmth was once soothing, now it was more like an icy slate. Whatever you could do to help him recover, you would; you’d assured yourself that much.

“Am I going to be alright?” Jimin whimpered, caressing your thumb with his. Immense pity was simply inevitable. How badly damaged was he? So much so, Jimin wasn’t sure if he was even going to make it.

“Of course you are.” You resumed your amiable smile, knowing very well you may have just lied to him. Considering the state you found him in, surely it wasn’t certain?

As Jimin groaned while he hesitantly adjusted himself, the same nurse from earlier returned to the room. She pushed a small cart equipped with medical appliances, bandages and capsules of all different colours, “I need to change Jimin’s drips. For sanitary reasons, you both need to wait outside.”

Your eyes met with those of Jimin’s friend, and you led the walk outside of the room. The door closed behind you, and the awkward silence began. Even when your relationship with Jimin was active, you’d never found much in comin with his friends. In fact, the more you came to understand Jimin, you couldn’t understand what attracted him to them either.

Before you’d gotten the chance, the man sat in the only seat outside of the room. Chivalry was no expectation when it came to Jimin’s acquaintances. As expected, nothing much had changed.

Even when deep in silence, you couldn’t bring yourself to dawdle on your phone. Nail-biting was the only appropriate way to pass time as well as take out your pent up anxieties. He looked up from behind his screen, and thrusted it deep into his jacket pocket, eyeing you from head to toe with a grimaced face. You shared his sentiments.

“It’s better he forgets you. You never bother with him, what an unfortunate coincidence he only remembers you.” His breath exalted ignorance. You were here for Jimin, not to argue over the past.

But still, it was too much bait to simply avoid, “What do you mean I never bother with him? Conversations work two ways; if he wanted me to check up on him, he’d check up on me too.”

“He’s been a mess since you stopped dating. You were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

His confession was perhaps the most sincerity you thought possible to get out of him, yet that wouldn’t fog your version of events, “That’s his own fault. I never wanted us to end.”

He scoffed, smirking as he shook his head, “There’s no compassion with you, is there?”

“Your best friend could have died, and you’re still taking jabs at me. I didn’t have to come but I did. Instead of being concerned for Jimin’s wellbeing, I reckon you asked me here just to make your points.” His sly smirk soon faded into his flushing cheeks.

Perhaps it was true that if he knew any better, Jimin wouldn’t want you there. But he didn’t know any better, at least not now. How you were supposed to help, you were unsure of. Were you even prepared to be present when he realised? Realising your beloved was no longer yours must hurt more for the second time, there could be no doubt about it.

“Visit hours are over in five minutes. Go, and don’t come back. At least for a while. At least give him a chance to remember someone other than you. I only asked you here to lessen the blow anyway.”

For someone who should no longer concern you, the motion of avoiding Jimin was strangely painful. He was vulnerable, anybody could see that. Abandoning him as the only person he could openly recognise felt immoral, disgusting almost. But what authority did you have?

The nurse soon allowed you back into the room for the final goodbye before the cue to leave. Jimin beamed as you timidly approached the plastic chair beside him. It must’ve stung him to smile with such cheer. It was a lie. His happiness was a lie. Soon, he’d know the truth.

“I’m going to have to leave soon. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer.” Although your romance wasn’t, your remorse was real. The pity you empathised from being stuck with his ignorant friend was also very much real.

“You’ll come back for me, right?”

So much you were yet to decide. A sleepless night dwelling upon the events of the day was due, “Of course I will.”

With all your endurance, you avoided the eyes of his lingering friend. He was better off invisible for now, “You promise to keep well, Jimin. We’ll get through this together.”

Sending Jimin your last smile of the day, he reflected your sentiments and watched you approached the door, “Haewon?” You turned around with a raised eyebrow, “I love you.”

And there it was. The dreaded three words that held no meaning to you, at least not from him. Did they even hold any meaning to him? You were the only person he recognised; if there was only one person you knew, you’d feel compelled to live them at some point.

“I know you do.”

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