#in the softest tone ever: sure and lit it up for him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yunskies · 2 years

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◟𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄!

pairing — park sunghoon x f!reader

synopsis — Sunghoon deems himself to be quite a private person until one time when its way past midnight in their dorm's kitchen with you and the presence of his dormmates in the next room only gives way to realising temptations he never would've thought he'd possess

cw/tw — mdni. smut, established relationship, exhibitionism (not extreme), reader is called pretty, sweetheart, baby, princess, good girl. unprotected sex, mentions of food, a little fluff

word count — 1.7k

a/n — this was initially supposed to be a little drabble intended for an ask i received a while (months) back but ya girl very evidently has a hard time keeping things from getting carried away + also the first thing i've written over here after the span of months so the edges are a little rusty, my apologies </3

hope everyone is in good health and having an amazing day! sending hugs your way <3

"Are you sure you don't want any?" your voice ringed through the dimly lit kitchen, eyes lingering upon his tall frame as he skimmed across the narrow space.

"oh I'm not hungry at all, baby, besides I'm pretty sure you're gonna love this, 's a secret recipe"

Contrary to what meets the eye, Park Sunghoon is the softest of lovers you've ever had the chance to know. soft— in the way his fingertips linger upon your cheekbones a little longer after every kiss, soft in the way he ruffles your hair to see you smile, and in the way he subtly tries to slip in your favorite things into conversations to see your eyes light up.

Soft in the way he allows himself to be vulnerable and soft in the way he gets up way past midnight to make you pancakes cause he notices you shuffling uncomfortably in your sleep. one similar occurance brings you to your current position in his dorm's kitchen.

"careful or i might just take you for my personal little chef at this point" your feet swayed back and forth from where you were seated at the counter, the sweet lovesick smile never making its way past your lips as you notice his face distort in a look of amusement.

"Yeah? why don't you pay me a little extra for being so devoted to my job at 3 in the morning, princess?" he titters, accidentally dropping an empty utensil with a loud clutter, coaxing light laughter out of you.

"sunghoon-! my brother in christ, what could you possibly be doing there in the devil's hour?" Jay's tone laced with feigned irritation catches you by surprise, a small light emerging from the crack of his room's door as faint laughs and shouts followed right after.

"its his hour then, let him work" jake replies with a snicker, and you furrow your eyebrows at sunghoon in confusion.

"video games" he shrugs, "they go on till early morning these days- i won't understand" he rolls his eyes at his best friend's lame attempt of insult, a giggle breaking out of you, heart melting at how adorable he looks with the little pout gracing his lips.

"aw c'mere my pretty little chef, time for me to pay you back for your service" you coo, stretching your arms wide for a dramatic effect but he runs to you regardless, capturing your waist in his hold as you slide your arms around his neck, pulling him into a fervent kiss.

His lips are soft against yours. quiet yellow light from the ceiling falling upon his perfectly carved features as you feel yourself getting weak at the very tip of his touch. The warmth of his palm sits feebly at your waist, the thin material of your shirt– his shirt that you were wearing, barely serving as a barrier.

Your fingers grip on his soft locks as he plants fluttering kisses all over your jaw before he takes his sweet time, cascading down agonizingly slow. He tugs at the hem of your shirt, sucking on the skin of your neck as the soft graze of teeth makes you whimper.

"hoon- ah wait" you gasp for air, making him halt in his tracks. "do you-do you want us to go back to your room–?" you question, feeling light in the head as he looks up at you with cheeks flushed red. staring at him expectantly for what felt like the longest time, you figure it was going to take him a while to muster a reply- until it clicks in your mind.

"wait, it can't be– you actually like this here, don't you?" your voice low in his ear as you watch him suck in a breath, eyes barely meeting yours. your hand treading ever so slow from under his shirt to the material of his sweats, hovering right above where he wanted you the most.

"now, look at that" you palm his length over the fabric of his pants, a little flattered at how terribly hard he was under your touch.

"you didn't tell me you were into this, baby" you whisper, slipping your fingers under the waistband, a breathy moan escaping his pretty lips.

"i- please" his voice breaks into a plea, sweetly melting into your hand as you slide his dick out from the painful confines of the fabric. with the tip so pink and leaking, you try so hard to not sink down to your knees and take him in your mouth right then.

"please what, baby? you'd have to be more specific than that" you tease, slowly pumping his length in your hand as he bends forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

"princess, please, i need you so bad" he musters out, voice low and laced with desperation. There was something about him being so needy and bending at your every will, that made you so terribly weak, you wanted nothing more than to take him right there.

You hook your fingers under his chin, making him meet your gaze before crashing your lips upon his. He's quick with his hands as they slide your shorts off with ease. strong arms wrap around your thighs, pulling you close till you're seated at the very edge of the counter. His gaze, hot and burning as he gently spreads your legs open.

Your demeanor starts wearing off, face growing warm as you follow his gaze that was directed at your soaked panties, sticking to your core. A low grunt leaves his mouth, pointer finger tracing your clothed wetness ever so slowly, making you whimper weakly under his towering frame.

"seems like you want this just as much, don't you?" he whispered, leaving you no time to form a reply as he slides the material to the side, dipping a digit into the warmth of your folds before bringing it up to his mouth, tasting your arousal.

"so fucking sweet, princess, all for me, isn't it?" you nod weakly at his words, mouth dry as you wanted nothing but for him to do something as you looked at him with pleading eyes, mouthing a little 'please' that made him crumble almost instantly.

He positioned himself at your entrance, taking his time to rub the head of his cock upon your sensitive clit before pushing himself into your warmth in one swift go. A loud moan breaks out of you, but he's quick to press his lips upon yours, drowning your whimpers in the warm caverns of his sweet mouth.

"sshh, sweetheart, can't have them knowing, now, can we?" he mumbles lowly, making you aware of his dormmates who were wide awake in the room right down the hall. You could still hear their muffled laughs and occasional strings of muttered obscenities, realizing you weren't the only ones there.

"oh who're you lying to, hoon? you'd probably like that very much" you huff out, content as you watch his cheeks glow a warm pink, with thrusts not as strong as before. You take his silence as a cue to go forth,

"Your friends could walk in anytime and find you buried deep inside my cunt, doesn't that sound scary? oh wait, it just turns you on more, isn't that right?" you whisper, attempts at riling him up working quite effortlessly as you feel his length twitch inside of you.

His face burns red out of embarrassment but he can't stop thrusting his hips into yours, your warm and soft insides too pleasurable and inviting for him to not want more of you— all of you.

"f-fuck you feel so good, princess" he groans, trying his best to not be loud.

You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of it as his cock stirs up your insides, rubbing against your spot ever so sweetly. You whimper in your place, impatiently rutting your hips into his as you feel him reach so deep inside of you.

"feel so f-full, hoon, d-don't stop please" you moan, almost crying out as you feel his hand travel down to your pussy, rubbing deliberate circles on your clit.

"yeah, princess? always so good to me, fuck, i want everyone to know who you belong to" you feel your walls clamp down on him as those words leave his mouth, wetness running down your thighs as his thrusts reach deeper, making you bite down on the tender skin of his nape to keep your screams at bay.

"so pretty, look s'fucking pretty taking my cock like this" he grunts, and you feel your legs give out as the pressure building in your abdomen gets too much to take up.

"w-will cum, hoon, can't t-take it" you cry, but it only results in him rubbing your clit faster.

"jus' a lil more, yeah, sweetheart? wanna cum together"

With that, he takes hold of one of your legs, hooking it behind him as his thrusts get sloppier. essence leaking out of your wet hole as your walls convulse around his thick length spreading you open.

"b-baby i can't anymore, fuck-" you moan, your voice raspy and high, with no more regards to keeping it down–how could you, when he was fucking you this good?

"let go, princess, been s'good, such a good girl" he whispers, barely making out words as he moves inside you for a last few times, before you feel his warmth filling you up.

You rest your head against his chest, body shaking weakly at how hard your high has hit you, until you notice how eerily silent it is inside the house.

You look up to find Sunghoon already facing your way, cheeks pink and mouth slightly parted, as if the words were right there, sitting at the very tip of his tongue.

"do you- do you think they heard us?" you question, even though the answer was quite evident whether sunghoon said it or not.

"no baby, i'm sure they must've gone to bed already" he states, trying his very best to sound as convincing as he can, but failing regardless.

"you're just saying that to make me feel better, i can see right through you" you cannot help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips, drinking in his pretty face as if he's the brightest this place has ever made.

"not at all, such little trust you bear in me, beloved" he feigns hurt, hand clutching his chest as if its the most terrible deed you could've commited in the history of human race.

"you're so dramatic" you roll your eyes playfully.

"you love me"

"you're right, i do"

"and you were right too, I'd do anything to make you feel at ease" he admits, eyes filled with nothing but warmth and sincerity, looking at you like you're the most inestimable part of the universe that his hands have ever had the chance to hold.

"i am so in love with you"

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen suggestive #enhypen scenarios #park sunghoon x reader #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #enhypen imagines #kpop drabbles #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen heeseung #kpop imagines #jake smut #jay smut #sunghoon scenarios

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pregnant-piggy · 10 months

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Uhm, can I send this one too? cherry - send me a song and a character and i'll write you a little blurb!

With George Weasley and the song when i fall in love by michael buble. Please? Thank you 😌

i am so sorry this took so long, jacky! i enjoyed writing this, but it took a loooong time before i had any inspo to write (anything at all) hopefully you like this! <3

When I fall in love

The air was still warm and humid even after the sun had set. It was a cloudless night, thousands of stars spreading out in the heavens above. There was a light wind, but it was warm, like a lover’s hand brushing your cheek each time it blew past.

The garden was silent. Birds had gone to sleep an hour ago, which should have been a sign you should go to bed too, but with George’s arms around your shoulders and his hot breath travelling over your skin, you’d been content staying where you were. And now it was an hour later, temperature down a little, but after the hot day you’d had it felt nice.

The fairy lights in the tree provided a soft yellowish light that fell down on George’s face, catching every soft curve and strong angle, creating stars in his eyes when he looked up, a starry heaven even more beautiful than the one overhead.

He was perfect and perfectly yours. And maybe that thought should have worried you, but there wasn’t a single fibre in your body scared. You had given him your heart completely and one nights like these, when there was just you two, just his arms, just his smile, you knew that it had not been given in vain.

He turned to you, his blue eyes dark now there was no sun out. His entire face seemed to lit up when he found your gaze and you were sure you must be dreaming. What did you ever do to deserve this?

“Close your eyes,” he said.

“Why?”

“Just do it, please.”

You did as he told and as your vision turned black, your other senses came alive. His deep, pressing scent, the dark tones but the always lingering hint of mints from the sweets he was always eating. The taste of the peach tea you’d had after dinner. The press of his arm on your shoulder, the heat of his skin on yours, so familiar but never ever tiring.

And the sound of the garden came alive. The soft rustle of the leaves being moved by the wind. The low humming of the house and its appliances. Far away, the softest tunes of music. His breath, that even rhythm that had brought you to sleep many, many nights.

Then came the sound of his deep voice. The sleep laced in his vowels. The smile from his lips.

“What do you see?”

You frowned with your eyes closed and heard him chuckle close to your ear. It set your body on fire.

“Obviously nothing,” you said.

“Try harder.”

You squeezed your eyes, tried to see on the inside of your eyelids, but no matter how you tried you couldn’t get your eyes to focus to see anything. There were smudges and sparkles, but nothing discernible.

“I don’t know, George,” you sighed. “It’s giving me a headache.”

You sensed his smile even before you opened your eyes. He looked down on you with a wide grin. “Now ask me.”

You raised one eyebrow, but got nothing more from him. “Close your eyes, then.”

George shut his eyes. His smile stayed on his lips, like he was already enjoying whatever it was that he expected to happen. You resisted the urge to just forget about it and kiss that gorgeous smile, but he seemed too excited.

“Okay. Now, what do you see?”

His arm fell from your shoulder to your waist. You were snugly stuck in his embrace like it was your home, which, over the past year, it had become.

Never could you have imagined being where you were now, but there was no place you’d rather be. You had found comfort and peace and love in the person you wanted to share the rest of your life with. It was a wonder and if you hadn’t stubbed your toe that morning and felt that pain was still real, you wouldn’t have believed it wasn’t a dream. But this was your reality, your life. A miracle.

George still had his eyes closed, but he easily brought his face closer, like just by feeling he could tell where you were. He smiled even wider, opened his eyes, a dark blue galaxy staring back at you, and finally spoke.

“You.”

You had fallen in love. And it was forever.

- - - - - - -

hp taglist: @kingalrdy @missswriter @awritingtree @ananad1 @secretsthathauntus @izzyyy-1 @nyotamalfoy @xxinvisiblexx @idli-dosa @lacunaanonymoused @kitkatkl @d22malfoys

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagine

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ama-ships · 3 months

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Ship: It's Something Human ♥ Word Count: 765 Song: Something Human by Muse Summary: Amaryllis lives for moments like these, and she wouldn't change anything about it~

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Silence.

It lingered through their home long after they had finished their evening routine and retired to the dimly lit living room for some much-needed time winding down. Amaryllis was perched at one end of the sofa, a pillow seated on her lap as Vergil's head rested there.

Both had a book in one hand, the other turning the pages as they finished reading through; basking in the comfortable silence save for the sounds of pages turning as they each progressed through their material.

Amaryllis absentmindedly ran the fingers of one hand through her husband's hair, unaware of the effect it had upon him amidst his reading of poetry. Despite the fact her touch left him when she needed to turn the page of her book, it immediately returned.

Being hyper-focused on the novel she read, Amaryllis was unaware of the lack of turning pages from Vergil's end, unaware that his breathing had become so relaxed and his eyes had slowly drifted shut under her ministrations. It wasn't until she heard the softest thud that her attention was torn away and fixated upon her husband.

From the first moment she gazed down at him, her gaze softened further, a light rose colour dusting over her cheeks as she continued to run her fingers through his hair. To see Vergil in such a peaceful state put her heart at an ease she didn't realize she needed.

Sleeping peacefully was a rarity for Vergil which left Amaryllis to revel in the sight before her. There was a longing inside of her, a longing to see Vergil relax more often than he did. Her heart swelled from the thought of being able to have that effect on her beloved husband, knowing very little put his mind at ease.

Amaryllis found herself carefully closing her book and setting it on the table next to where she was seated. Simply, she wanted to witness it, witness how he looked in slumber without negative thoughts plaguing him like nearly every moment of consciousness. She knew it would take an astronomical amount of time for him to truly be at ease, but anyway that helped him, she wouldn't bat an eye or give it a second thought.

While she continued to run her fingers through his hair, they momentarily came to a stop as she brought her free hand up to gently cup against his cheek, thumb brushing over it tenderly. Vergil was beautiful in every sense of the word, completely at peace by his wife's side.

Whether she wanted to or not, there was no possible way for Amaryllis to continue reading her book, completely hypnotized by the tranquility to could read in his sleeping expression. Everything about Vergil was relaxed and it made Amaryllis fall further in love as if it truly had been possible.

She was hypnotized, completely unaware of her husband's awakening from his light slumber until their eyes met. Vergil's hand came up to cup around the one against his cheek, pulling slightly so he could gently kiss the palm of her hand.

"I didn't mean to wake you, my beloved." Her voice was nearly a hushed whisper, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I assure you it's alright, my darling angel. Your very presence puts me at ease…" He replied, his tone equally soft as his wife's.

Amaryllis' gaze softened further, "You deserve to be at ease my love… And I will do anything in my power to make sure of that…"

Neither could resist, Vergil moving out of her touch in favour of sitting up and shifting onto an angle as he leaned in to press his lips to hers, lingering there as they both felt their cheeks warming at the contact. Both of Vergil's hands rose to cup her cheeks, holding her there for a moment before the kiss broke, the smallest space lingering between them as the heat of their breath danced between them.

Between kisses, Vergil whispered words against her lips, "I love you, more than I ever thought was possible, my dearest Amaryllis Sparda…"

A soft laugh left Amaryllis, her hands coming to rest against either side of his neck, "and I love you more than ever thought possible, my beloved Vergil Sparda…"

One last kiss was exchanged, full of love and affection as they both pulled back, Amaryllis curling up against his chest as she shifted and his arms circled her to hold her close.

He could never let her go. The love of his life, the giver of meaning to his life, forever and always.

#ship; it's something human ♥#It's not a big thing but I finally wrote something~ ♥#okay to rb~

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starlight-channie · 2 years

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♡ episode eleven: high (📝...written chapter)

summary: When Hongjoong developed a crush on y/n, he thought confessing wasn't going to be so hard.....until life started throwing curve balls at him. Will she ever get to know how he feels?

polaroid love : masterlist

previous ─ ughhh...

next ─ threatened

a/n ─ this is my first ever written chapter and for those who are still keeping up with this I hope you guys enjoy it. I tried my best and trust me this smau is truly a slow burn. I love y'all bye<33

Dm or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist

You get out of your room and make your way to the kitchen where you were greeted by Hana making herself some ramen. "I am going out for a bit, I'll come back soon bye" was all you said before putting on your shoes and getting out of the apartment unit. You walk out of your building and make your way to the gate where you saw Hongjoong standing near his car with one of his hands in his pocket and the other one holding a paper bag.

As soon as Hongjoong saw you his eyes lit up and the softest smile appeared on his face, you looked so adorable in your oversized hoodie and your pyjamas running in tiny towards him that he could literally disintegrate in that very second. He waved his hands and greeted you.

"So why did you ask me to come out in this cold ass weather?" you questioned him with both your hands inside your hoodie pockets.

He chuckled a bit at your question and answered "Just wanted to see you". He said it in a teasing tone and manner but he also actually meant it. You side eyed him and responded "Then you could've just asked me to send you a selfie or something", you teased him back which made him laugh a little. You were now getting curious as to why he exactly called you out so you pouted a little in frustration and said "Come on, stop teasing me"

He then gave you the sincerest smile, let out a sigh and responded "Fine, here you go", holding up the paper bag. You tilted your head and gave him a confused look. Wondering what exactly is in that brown paper bag that he was holding up to your face.

"I was getting coffee for my hyungs at the studio and I saw four waffles left at the store and they reminded me of you so I thought I'd get them for you" he answered and happiness took over you and you gave him the biggest smile. You took the paper bag out of his hands and peeked inside it a little bit as you got really excited about the food that Hongjoong just brought you.

"Oh my God this is so sweet of you. Joong, how did you know I've been craving for waffles for such a long time now??" you asked him. He couldn't help but smile at your words since he really didn't know that you were craving them. He felt content and proud that he was able to bring you something that you wanted without even knowing that you wanted them.

"I actually didn't know that but I am glad I could satisfy your cravings", he answered proudly. You gave him the biggest smile and hugged him as a form of thank you and you couldn't see it but Hongjoong was a blushing mess and he could feel fireworks going off above his head and a swarm of butterflies in his stomach because of your actions. When you broke out of the hug Hongjoong's phone rang to which he checked and said "Oh shit it's my hyung's I guess they must be wondering where the heck I am, so I guess i'll just scram out of here since I have accomplished what I came here for".

You gave him a sad look and questioned "Can't you stay a little bit longer? We could take a walk around the neighborhood?" As much as Hongjoong wanted to do all those with you and spend time with you he just gives you an apologetic look and says "I am so sorry y/n but I have to go, I'll see you tomorrow for sure okay! Enjoy your waffles, byee"

"Oh okay then bye see you tomorrow. Thank you so much for the food once again" was all you said before he gets into his car. He rolls down his window and smiles at you waving goodbye before driving off.

You turn around to go back into your apartment building when in the corner of your eyes you saw a shadowy figure behind the gate lamppost. You should be running back inside your building as fast as you can when you see that but the shadowy figure looked similar to you so you stepped a little closer and called out "Hey". Again, you should be running away at the fastest speed but you knew who that shadowy figure was. "Yeosang, what are you doing there??" you asked and Yeosang indeed came out of the shadows.

"Hmm nothing I was just taking a walk around the neighborhood anyways I should get going it's getting late" he said all that in one breath. And before you could answer or ask anymore questions he grabbed your shoulders and turned you towards your apartment building telling you to go inside since it's already late.

You were confused at what was happening so you tried to turn towards him to ask what the heck was going on but he stopped you and pushed you gently towards the entrance of your apartment building saying "It's late and cold, go on, get inside". You couldn't debate with him since he didn't give you a chance so you just obeyed him and walked towards your apartment building.

Yeosang watched you as you made your way towards your apartment building because he always had to watch you enter any building or house safely before he walked away. That was his habit and also a way for him to make sure you were safe. Before entering the building you looked back to see Yeosang still watching you. He waved his hands and gave you a smile and mouthed a 'Good night see you tomorrow bye' to which you just smiled and waved back in return.

Yeosang's smile dropped as soon as you were out of his sight. He looked towards the thrash can near the building lamppost where he just threw a box of waffles.

[tags] @at1nys-blog @dogsongy @erodemyedges @randomness7198 @yunhowooyo @jaycheoluwu @grim-adventures58 @john-joong

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1kook · 3 years

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BORN SINNER III

→ MASTERLIST

summary; Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you. warnings; virgin jungkook, timid jungkook, church boy jk, a LOT of religious themes/discussion, catholic guilt, fear of sinning, mentions of masturbation, heavy doubts, a little paranoia/fear of being outcasted, jk has a crush, confessions, making out, boob lover jk has his boobs touched, groping/petting, light praise, very brief/light choking, jk is horny like 75% of the time, positive character development <3 rating; m (18+) wc; 9.5k

banner; as always, by @jamaisjoons !! ty ty ty!! <3333

notes; i have to apologize for delaying this update for so long. truth is, it was difficult to write the next part bc i felt like i had trapped myself in pt2-- jk wasn't showing ANY progress & i started to really hate his character. LUCKILY, with the help of my amazing editor n wife @kigurumu *audience cheers* i was able to put him back on the right track towards redemption! (& even more painful angst in the future!) sadly, that means that this part doesn't include any explicit smut, you'll see why. still, I'm very proud of how much i was able to build his character in this part and i hope you enjoy it!!! lemme know what u think <3

in the future, i will try my best to make sure the chapters aren’t so spaced out. again, i am so so sorry about taking so long to update this series

He gets your text the following Tuesday morning.

Now, Jungkook has never been one to be overly invested in his cell phone; he uses it as much as he needs to, just checks his emails, takes some photos, and sends texts when necessary. But you had set up a particularly unique ringtone for yourself the other day, had sweetly asked for his phone as he laid against your chest. His skin had felt warm and the slightest bit sweaty, his body pressed so closely against you that he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. “Did you have fun?” you asked, fingers combing back his hair. He had hummed, eyes fluttering shut to the faint tapping of your fingers across the keyboard. If he closes his eyes, he can still remember the soft beating of your heart beneath his ear, the leg you had hooked around his waist to pull him closer. The memory makes him shiver.

It’s a high-pitched bell sound that alerts him of your messages now, completely unlike the classic default tone he had set for everyone else.

From the other side of his room, Jungkook immediately pauses to look at it, the lit up screen glaring back at him from its idle place on his bedside table. He always leaves it there in the mornings, beside his rosary and the picture of his family, as he gets ready for work.

He knows exactly who it’s from— after all, that’s what you wanted when you stylized your ringtone —which is why his hand trembles in excitement as he unlocks his phone.

[❤️]: picnic tomorrow? 🥰

[❤️]: after my last class of course

Jungkook’s first thought is that this was a date, his first one with you since he had met you. His heartbeat hammers at the thought, at the mere suggestion that the two of you would be able to spend more time together this week outside of your usual weekend… acts. Additionally, if you’re asking him on a date, then surely it means you view Jungkook as a potential suitor, just as he does you? Do you want to maybe date Jungkook? Jungkook certainly wants to date you— in fact, if he starts gathering his courage now, he might be able to properly ask you out tomorrow.

Jungkook’s second thought is of that guilty, gross feeling that’s been gnawing at his insides for three days now, and how it was inevitably going to get worse when he saw you again.

He had lied to you, Jungkook recalls, sinking down against his mattress, shirt half buttoned, as he stares at the screen. He had lied to your face during a critical moment, had felt that seed of doubt in his chest blossom more than ever. And not only had Jungkook lied to you, but he had lied to you about his feelings toward you. How could he ever hope to hold you close, to date you, when he couldn’t even be honest with you?

The memory of your curious gaze presents itself at the forefront of his mind, the soft sound of your laughter ringing in his ears.

You had been so sweet to him despite his blunder, had cupped his face and kissed him on the lips when he dropped you off outside your apartment. “Not today,” you crooned, unbuckling yourself as Jungkook’s eyes trailed over your throat— ignoring your cross —and down your chest. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. But soon, okay?” Another sweet peck had left him trailing after your touch, your finger bopping the tip of his nose playfully. “Call me when you get home.”

And because he was so terribly, irrevocably smitten with you, Jungkook had done as you said and called you. He’d called you and then had whimpered against his sheets as you generously talked him through another sinful deed. You had softly sighed his name over the line, told him he was handsome and that you missed him. That you wanted him in your mouth—

And of course, he had felt… something afterwards.

This is where his dilemma begins: Jungkook had felt something afterwards, and he’s not sure if it had been entirely good or bad. The longer Jungkook stays around you, hangs out with you, does things with you— the more he can feel parts inside of himself change. Because after the phone call, Jungkook had felt two distinct emotions within himself, both of which were up for questioning.

First, there was that one feeling he was becoming all too familiar with, the crushing guilt that would consume him following any sexual interaction with you or himself for that matter. Why was he like this? Why did he indulge himself in such heinous pleasures when he knew, knew better than anyone, what committing such acts meant for the future of his soul? He was practically dooming himself the way he was now, but Jungkook just didn’t understand— why did something so bad feel so good?

But alongside that gnawing guilt was this tiny, weirdly pleasant satisfaction, a gratification that superseded the relief felt by an orgasm. It was this oddly serene feeling that settled over Jungkook in the moments following a climax, the soft brush of your hands through his hair, the low lilt of your voice. They made him feel like he was floating on the softest of clouds, kissed and pampered by its wispy tendrils. It made something inside of Jungkook feel different, new. Good.

(In the back of his mind, Jungkook realizes he’s always felt that way. At the height of his pleasure, at the faintest brush of your hands against his. It was a staple of your presence, one that made Jungkook feel like he was walking on air.)

From whatever angle he looked at it, it just didn’t make sense. They were contrasting emotions; while one made him feel godawful, the other one practically made him transcend. The fact they could coincide, exist all at once, had Jungkook’s brain folding in on itself as he tried to figure out why. They kept him up the last few nights, eyes blankly staring up at his ceiling following his evening prayers. Mulling over everything he’s ever learned and been told, always circling it back to your beautiful presence in his life.

He knows sex in itself is not bad— after all, that was how the beautiful process of life came to be —but years upon years of studying his religion, cultivating his faith, had all led him to the same conclusion: premarital sex was wrong. And for the past few weeks, well. That’s all Jungkook had been doing with you.

It seems like every time you meet, you’re dead set on pleasuring him, turning Jungkook into a shivering, teary-eyed mess while you grinned from above. That confused him too— as far as Jungkook knew, the whole point of sex was to chase after your own pleasure, something you admittedly did not do. It was always Jungkook’s pleasure, Jungkook’s enjoyment that you wanted, covering him in languid kisses and long caresses until he was inevitably shooting his hot cum all over your lap and into your hands.

You had told him it was okay, that he should never feel bad for enjoying himself. But, to return back to his original dilemma, he doesn’t quite know if he can trust your word.

You’re a liar, that much Jungkook can look past his rose-tinted glasses to admit. While you may not have lied to him (or at least, Jungkook wants to believe you haven’t), the fact still stands that you are quite willing to deceive others in order to get what you want. He already knows you aren’t the biggest believer of the Church yourself, that you frequently brush off your religious duties in order to fulfill your own desires— the aforementioned sexual cravings probably the biggest one —so, quite frankly, Jungkook is untrusting of the rest of your practices. Were you lying to him, telling him all was well, just for your own benefit? Just because you wanted to drag him along on your lustful adventures? He wasn’t sure, and as much as he wanted to trust you wouldn’t, there’s a shred of doubt that plagues him.

But still.

Regardless of whether you are a liar or not, that didn’t make it okay for Jungkook to lie to you.

He taps his phone against his chin, brain a frenzied mess.

If Jungkook really wanted to pursue this relationship with you, he needed to be honest with himself and with you. Did it bother him that you were so flippant with the Church, the one he himself feels so devoted to? Yes and no. Jungkook has never been one to impress his beliefs on others, and truthfully, he would not be the slightest bit bothered if you don’t believe in the same things he does. Would there be some awkwardness in your relationship? Certainly, but at least Jungkook would know the real you from the very beginning.

But to him, posing as an avid follower when you really aren’t rubs part of him the wrong way. He’s slightly put off by that aspect of you, and justifiably felt that anyone would feel such a way if someone were to use something they love as mere leverage for their own personal gain. And to make matters worse, now that he’s been made aware, it weighs down heavily on his conscience.

Part of Jungkook, as selfish as it may be, wishes you had never revealed your secrets to him. He may have been left in the dark a total fool, but at the very least he would have been a happy fool. Would he still feel guilt about all the sexual deeds he’s partaken in with you? Sure, but at least he would only have himself to blame. The way things are now, he’s unsure who really needs to be condemned.

Realistically, it is Jungkook’s fault. He knows how you are and even more, he knows you would never proposition him for any such sexual deed if he told you no, if he simply denied you. But he doesn’t tell you no, and that’s the problem: Jungkook really likes you as you are now, questionable behavior be damned. He likes you when you make him cry and when you pinch his cheeks and when you snake your hand down his pants.

He still thinks you’re amazing, gets this fluttery feeling when you look at him with that sparkling gaze of yours. Your laughter makes him smile, even if you’re not laughing at something he said, because the sound is just so comforting, warm and soothing, makes his entire body relax when you chuckle. You have this gentle touch, these delicate hands that carefully comb his hair back for him in the car sometimes, tracing the side of his face softly. Your smile makes him dizzy, makes him want to cup your face in his hands and kiss you breathless. And, of course, he can’t complain about your… other talents when he’s only been on the beneficial receiving end of said talents. That aforementioned satisfaction, as small as it may be and as difficult as it was to admit to, was something Jungkook has begun to look forward to on the occasions that you meet.

But his inability to overlook his own beliefs and your confusing nature brings about a great strife within Jungkook. It’s the reason he hesitates outside the church after dropping you off, his car running as he glares at his steering wheel. Everything in him says to go inside and confess to his sins, relieve himself of this overwhelming sense of guilt and shame to the closest person to his Lord.

But he’s scared.

Scared that, despite the oath of confidentiality, word will get out. His fellow brothers in faith will hear about what he’s done and call him out for his lecherousness. But even worse, he’s scared of what will happen to you. Would Jungkook’s life be over if he were thrown out of his beloved church? As dramatic as he may be, no. But he recognized that there were different standards to which men were held in this society, that an act of desire by him would not ruin his name the same way it would you.

And Jungkook didn’t want that. He wanted to keep you safe. Wanted you to be happy and smiling, regardless of how conflicted it made him, because he likes you. He likes you so much, despite the fact he has yet to uncover the true extent of your character.

But the cloud of mystery is partially what intrigues him, has him pondering over your very existence instead of getting ready for work as he is now. He’s terribly enamored, thinks about you and prays for you every night. So maybe Jungkook is still the fool, because he still daydreams about you when he knows he shouldn’t.

His phone buzzes in his hand—

[❤️]: i miss you bunny ☹️

—and his decision is made.

Tuesday passes by in a blur and before he knows it, it’s Wednesday afternoon and you’re texting him the location of one of the parks in the city. You had told him not to worry about the food because you would bring it. Jungkook’s only job was bringing the picnic blanket, a huge checkered thing he had spent all morning rifling through three stores for. He wants to impress you, desperately so, that he’s even wearing a nicer outfit today, darker tones unlike his normal warm palette because he had heard a woman at his job say men look cooler in dark colors.

Suffice to say, he sticks out like a sore thumb at the park, the stark black of his jeans contrasting with the vibrant green of the neatly cut grass. Jungkook has half the mind to feel self-conscious about it, but then you’re calling his name from a couple meters away and his breath leaves his lungs.

“Hi,” you greet, the handle of your wicker basket held tightly between two hands; Jungkook rushes to relieve you of the weight. “Did you wait long?” you ask, rewarding his gentlemanly behavior with a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth that kick-starts his heart back into action and has his face burning up.

In all honesty, you have never dressed very modestly— not that you had to, nor that there was anything remotely wrong with that. Jungkook has spent many a mass service fighting the urge to glance down the front of your dresses and tops, ignoring the cleavage you liked to show off now and then. But apparently, what Jungkook had seen up until now was your version of dressing modestly. The dress you show up with today, an off day where there are no church ladies to impress and no unspoken dress codes to follow, makes his brain short circuit. The thin, thin, straps that hold it up giving him an all access view to the broad expanse of your shoulders and chest and collarbones and boobs—

“No!” Jungkook rushes to reassure you, fighting down the blush that threatens to travel further down his neck when you carefully straighten out the collar of his shirt for him. “I- I, um, just got here.”

You beam at the news. “I bought cheesecake,” you tell him, looping your arm through his as you tug him along. “I hope it hasn’t melted yet!”

By the time the two of you settle at a suitable spot near the lake, the cheesecake hasn’t melted. It’s still cold and solid, tastes like heaven on Jungkook’s tongue, and you laugh when his eyes light up. You look gorgeous like this, nestled against the checkered picnic blanket with a glass bottle of sparkling water in your hand, sandals just beside the edge of the blanket. There’s the faint chime of a bicycle bell somewhere to his left and the chatter of birds as they flock over the pond. Wonderful sights that would normally take his breath away and make him marvel at their beauty, but when you smile at him so gingerly like that, all Jungkook can think about is you.

He watches you slip a strawberry past your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you hum, seemingly out of the blue, wiping the corner of your mouth with one careful finger. “Other than, like, church stuff,” you tease.

As you lean forward for another one, Jungkook’s brain stutters for a moment, eyes focused on the curves of your boobs as they naturally follow the movements of your upper body until he’s dizzy. “Huh?” he says, and you snort. “Oh— me, right, yes um—“

“Your favorite color?” you suggest, tugging the skirt of your dress tighter around your legs. It’s not cold, but there’s a slight breeze that keeps rolling over the two of you, pushing your floral scent over Jungkook and fluttering through his hair. “Right now, all I know is that you like cheesecake because you ate three slices at the bazaar the other week,” you chuckle.

It’s such a basic question, the bare minimum of knowing a person. But when you look at Jungkook like that, blinking those long lashes at him, it makes him forget his answer. “Um… Red,” he murmurs, watching you tug off the stem of the strawberry in your hands. “And white.”

You nod, and then you’re stretching a hand outward to offer him the aforementioned strawberry. When he doesn’t open his mouth right away, you silently demonstrate first, until Jungkook is slowly parting his lips and accepting your strawberry. The flavor bursts on his tongue, sweet and sticky, coating the very tips of your fingers when you don’t pull away fast enough. Jungkook averts his gaze when you pop them between your own lips and suck them clean.

“Red and white,” you repeat, unaware of the lustful images that flicker through Jungkook’s mind, the way his eyes unconsciously drop to the front of your dress, at the crevice between your breasts that he remembers oh so well, the tight suction around his cock as you— “They make pink, which is my favorite color.” He desperately clears his mind of the memories that flash before his eyes.

It’s a pretty color, fit for a pretty girl. Jungkook keeps the thought to himself as he watches you sift through the contents of your basket. It’s the perfect compliment to give you, he knows it’d make you happy, but his valor disappears when you throw him a soft grin and he’s transported back to a more recent memory, the memory in the car instead.

A bad influence, he had called you, had watched your eyes well up with an emotion he had never seen on you before. Sadness? Disappointment? Disgust? He wasn’t sure, all Jungkook could really remember was the acidity on your tongue when you had repeated the words back to him, the ghost of your touch when you had abruptly pulled away from him, shut him out. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so closed off before, not even when he had first met you and you were parading around with that staged shyness.

And even when Jungkook had corrected himself afterwards (read: lied to you to cover his tracks), the emotion had lingered. Even when you had playfully brushed him off, he had caught your reflection in the window beside you as he drove to your place. The sullen look on your normally happy face, lips down-turned, eyes lowered. A look he had put there.

And now he’s watching you carefully rip apart bread to throw at the birds with a tender smile. A cloud moves and suddenly the sun is beating down on your little picnic again, casting a beautiful glow across your skin that renders him breathless for the shortest moment, trapped by the sheer beauty you exude. You’re absolutely ethereal, and yet he had questioned you. Your morals, your character, everything.

“__?” he says before he can stop himself.

You hum, “yes, bunny?” before pausing your little feeding task to glance back over at him. When you look at Jungkook like this, meet his gaze straight on, he doesn’t see an ounce of ingenuity in your eyes. It might be Jungkook’s lovesick heart speaking, but he can’t imagine you ever lying to him. He looks away first, frowning at the various fruits sprawled between the two of you.

You care about him, that much Jungkook wants to believe. And his beliefs are confirmed, when your voice drops an octave lower, becomes softer, as you murmur, “is everything alright?” The fruits are carefully set aside, breaking the wall between the two of you until you can shuffle forward, your knees bumping against his. Hands reach for his, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against his skin.

Before you can repeat your inquiry a second time, Jungkook finds himself asking, “do you like me?”

Jungkook’s sudden inquiry makes your cheeks heat up just the slightest, your startled inhale barely contained.

It’s like a scene straight out of a teenage romcom— a confession in a park, your hearts bared for each other. But it’s a little awkward, you have to admit, unintentionally giving Jungkook’s soft hand a nervous squeeze as his question rolls over in your mind.

Duh, you want to say. But there’s something about the look in Jungkook’s eye— the eyes he very purposefully turns towards your hands, the hair he had let loose today providing him ample protection from your gaze —that has you pausing, carefully considering your next words.

You had hoped by now that it was obvious, that Jungkook understood how much he meant to you, and didn’t require some dorky confession in the park. Partially because, well. This wasn’t your usual role. Usually, it was the guy confessing to you, raving about all your redeeming qualities in an effort to win you over. But with Jungkook, all you know about relationships is flipped upside down, forcing you to play a position you’ve never played before.

Jungkook wasn’t like you; he was soft and sentimental, practically wore his heart on his sleeve for the whole world to see. And it was a massive heart, filled with so much love and adoration for the world around him, that you felt bad when he wore such sullen expressions on his face.

Expressions like the one he has now, lips pressed together tightly as he misreads your silence. He has honest eyes, a dark toffee color that sends tingles down your spine when he looks your way. They glimmer with a sort of innocence for the world, a thin sparkle that makes him look like a prince sometimes. He was devastatingly handsome, and now he was upset. “Um— it’s okay,” he stammers, trying to move the conversation along. But his eyes flicker around nervously, anxiously. Like your silence has left a burn mark on him, painful and delicate to the touch.

His comment isn’t completely unexpected. How very on-brand for big-hearted Jungkook to try to save you from an uncomfortable interaction, even if it was caused by him. “Um…” he murmurs, “it’s okay. If you don’t, uh. Like me?”

It sounds flimsy, even to you.

“No, no,” you rush to correct, your ability to speak slowly coming back to you only after the fact. “I do,” you admit, nerves on edge at this rather foreign situation. “I… like you a lot, Jungkook.”

You shouldn’t be surprised by his reaction. Jungkook blinks slowly, like his brain is still processing the information, and then, ever so artfully, goes up in metaphorical flames. “O- Oh,” he stutters, reaching a free hand up to press his knuckles against his face. The rosy hue that had first blossomed over his cheeks has now started crawling down his neck now, up his ears. It’s terribly endearing. “I— um. I didn’t know,” Jungkook rambles, and it’s so cute, so sweet, how a simple confession from you renders him this flustered.

His face emanates a warmth tangible even on your own skin, lips cutely quirking to the side as he fights off a bashful smile and the raging blush your words bring about. It certainly is a sight to see. His hair tickles his eyebrow, swept out of its usually neat style, but it makes him look all the more gorgeous. “Cute,” you chuckle, feeling the slightest bit shy at such a warm response from Jungkook. You sit back, giving him the space he needs, and turn your attention up at the big blue sky instead. “Really? I thought it was obvious,” you hum.

Part of you actually feels really awkward; as you said before, everything is so brand new with him. With Jungkook, he flips everything around for you, makes you actually admit to your emotions as opposed to simply going along with his. It’s a nice change of pace, as difficult as it may be, and the results are rather… cute as well. (He bites down a smile, but the action makes his normally soft cheeks look more pronounced than usual.)

“Because, I, um. Me too,” he says, voice wavering. He clears his throat and tries to meet your gaze under his fringe, but doesn’t last more than a second before he’s pointedly glancing at the picnic blanket beneath the two of you. “I’m— I like you too,” he admits, ears tinted a bright red. You figured as much but it was always nice to hear, especially from someone like Jungkook. “A lot.”

“Thanks,” you smile, placing a hand on his thigh.

His lips pull into a shy smile, aimed at your knees because he can never look you in the eye when you shower him in praise and other gooey, mushy feelings. It’s the same in the car or against your front door— he always manages to give your hand a tight squeeze, maybe even a kiss if he’s feeling brave. But the second you try to tell him you’ve had fun or that you’ll miss him, it’s like all his courage fades away, leaving him a blushing, smiley mess.

He was cute like that. Despite being so kind and caring, it was like Jungkook’s entire being stopped functioning when those types of gestures were aimed at him. So you relished those moments, looked forward to them with a fluttery feeling in your heart that couldn’t be tamed.

Today, he throws you for a loop. Just as that proud, giddy smile appears, cheeks and ears a pretty pink, it fades away. The excitement from your mutual confessions seems to remind Jungkook of something else, something less warm, that has him quietly mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

It’s confusing, to say the least. Just a moment prior, he had been pursing his lips in a silly attempt to hold back a smile. Now he’s staring at the ground with a rather pensive look, his apology sitting heavy in his throat. “What for?” you tentatively ask after one long beat. It had been so sudden. In your mind, there isn’t a single reason for Jungkook to be apologizing to you, especially so out of the blue. There is, however, an inkling of fear brought upon by what can only be classified as insecurity; you had just confessed your feelings for each other, why was he sorry about that?

Jungkook exhales, a quiet sound that is nearly lost among the bustling noises of the park. If you hadn’t been sitting so close, maybe you wouldn’t have heard it at all. “I just,” he huffs, pointedly glaring at some random spot of grass beside you. His features look sharper than ever now, jawline defined, brows narrowed together. It’s a rather misplaced realization, but Jungkook looks absolutely gorgeous with distress painting his face. “I was… being selfish before.”

In the few weeks you’ve known him, you’ve come to realize Jungkook was many things. First and foremost, he’s an absolute gentleman. Raised on manners and compassion, looking after others everywhere he went. He was caring and sweet, loved this world and the people in it so much. Soft-spoken but straightforward. He was dreamy, disgustingly so.

But selfish? It definitely sounds like something Jeon Jungkook is not.

Before you can interrogate him even further, it seems like Jungkook is dead set on getting through this alone. “I- I’m sorry,” he repeats, eyes downcast. Noticing his wavering confidence, you resign yourself to listening, hand giving him a reassuring squeeze. Finally, after a short moment, Jungkook murmurs, “...in the car.” You tilt your head to the side curiously, waiting for him to go on. “I said, um. Something rude.”

It takes a moment for the memory to load, and when it finally clicks into place and begins rolling, you find yourself muttering a faint, “ah.”

If it’s what you think it is, he’s talking about last weekend outside of the church. That terribly awkward encounter that had left a sour taste in your mouth afterwards. A bad influence, you recall him saying, the memory of his voice looped in your mind the entire drive to your place.

In all honesty, it had stung a little. While you were aware that Jungkook had an ongoing mental battle, you hadn’t realized your role was that big in it. It’s the reason you had sent him home that day, made up a lie about schoolwork just to give him some space. It’s nothing new, everyone’s had someone think badly of them before; gossipy classmates, rivals, maybe even random strangers on the street. But it felt different when it was coming from someone as sweet as Jungkook, so polite and righteous, who wouldn’t even hurt a fly. Like he was stating a fact, not an opinion.

It was a slip-up on Jungkook’s end, that much you could tell. Because he had been frantic to correct himself afterwards, had looked at you with these fearful eyes, like one wrong move and you’d slip from between his hands. Luckily, you weren’t that sensitive— definitely not as sensitive as him, at least —and such a comment had been practically meaningless moments later.

Still, in those few moments where it was meaningful (read: the short period it took for Jungkook to get home and call you, the words looping around your brain until the harsh ring of your cell phone finally interrupted), it had left you wondering. Have you been pushing him too far, asking for too much? The way you saw it, you always gave Jungkook room to object to any of your advances. You know he’s trapped in his thoughts more often than not, but you pay attention to him, you really do. You make sure to take his reactions into account, try to offer solutions where possible. But, for the briefest moment, all of those efforts had felt fruitless that day in the car.

What you say next is not a complete lie; sure, Jungkook’s comment had hurt for a bit, but here he was now apologizing for it. That was a good sign… right? “It’s okay,” you brush off, patting his cheek softly, hoping with every fiber in your being that it really was okay.

Your voice is gentle, soothing his doubts. Just moments prior, Jungkook had felt like he was asking for too much, especially when your feelings toward him were up in the air. But your earnest confession soothed the ache in his heart. It’s all he’s wanted these past few months, to belong in your heart like you do his.

But the guilt from before, the tumultuous feelings he’s been harboring towards you since the weekend, dampens his excitement. From your confession alone, it doesn’t seem like you questioned Jungkook. You weren’t put off by who he was, what he loved. So why couldn’t Jungkook be like you, think like you?

“I’m still sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record when he catches this sympathetic smile on your face. The scraps of eloquence he had gathered while originally apologizing seem to fade away, leave him a stuttering mess when he tries again. “That was— I shouldn’t have said—“

“Hey,” you cut off, placing a hand against his cheek. It stops his fidgeting, forces him to meet your gaze head on. There’s a smile on your face but something inside of Jungkook says it doesn’t feel real. “I like you, Jungkook.”

And it’s true and genuine, your words so honest it pains him to think he had ever thought otherwise. And you’re still smiling, even after being hit with the implication that Jungkook questioned your character and maybe that’s what hurts the most. That you still try to put on an easygoing expression for him after he’s said something hurtful. It’s the car all over again, that blank look in your eyes when he had spoken carelessly.

Before he can apologize for the umpteenth time, you’re shaking your head softly, smiling anew. But this time, he can’t tell if it’s real or not. “I brought orange juice,” you say, expertly moving the conversation along. And just as Jungkook has been thinking for weeks now, it’s like you know him so well. You know when things make him anxious or uncomfortable, know just how to help him out.

There’s a feeling of guilt that blossoms in his chest, but this time it’s different.

It’s not the usual sticky gross feeling of before, the one that has him staying up at night repenting for all his wrongdoings. It’s a personal kind of guilt that comes along with the frank realization that, while you have been learning and adapting to being around Jungkook, he has not been doing the same for you.

Though you may be a little playful at times, you don’t tease him for who he is, don’t stomp all over his beliefs as much as he deluded himself into thinking you do. (That whole, faux-believer thing was a different circumstance.) Like with the cross in his house the other day. As much as Jungkook wanted to believe what you had done was evil, he had, quite honestly, enjoyed himself afterwards. There wasn’t that heavy discomfort sitting on his chest anymore, that sense of shame lingering as you’d kissed his body and let him caress yours too, in the safety of your eyes only. It was enjoyable and fun, had felt exhilarating to be so intimate with you.

And instead of being thankful for your mindful efforts, he had questioned your sincerity.

The picnic goes by in a flash. Jungkook is sad he can’t enjoy it to the fullest, his brain filled with clamorous thoughts that circled around to torture him every few minutes. Still, the entire date feels like a dream, vibrant and beautiful, leaving him in a daze. He doesn’t want to wake up.

By the time you suggest wrapping up, the sun is setting over the horizon, the windows and lights of the buildings around you slowly flickering to life like a sea of tiny stars. He feels weak in the knees as he helps you pack everything back in your basket. “All set,” you smile, walking beside him, knuckles brushing against his until you fulfill Jungkook’s wordless wish and slip your hand into his.

Jungkook agrees, hoping his hand isn’t sweaty and that you mean what you say. “I- I liked the food,” he remembers to mention, the fact that you had so carefully and lovingly prepared all this not entirely lost on him. His compliment, as simple as it may be, has you beaming at him as you exit through the park’s front gates. His car is parked along the street, the sleek vehicle coming into view as you round the street corner, hands still fastened. “Um,” he mumbles, pausing beside it. You turn to face him, eyes clear and content.

All good things come to an end, he supposes, reluctantly letting go of your hand when you tug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” you say, stepping up close, chest pressed against his. His breath hitched in his throat, eyes going wide when you nuzzle against his neck. Your hands slip around his waist. They wrap around him perfectly, make Jungkook feel like he was made for you.

By the time he’s springing into action, jerkily raising his free hand up to your back, you’re stepping away. “Call me when you get home,” you wink, sending shivers down his spine when he remembers what happened the last time you said that.

But Jungkook doesn’t think he can wait that long.

You’re slipping further and further away, fingertips just barely brushing against his forearm, when Jungkook jolts into action. “How are you, um—“ he stammers, feels too big for his shoes when you tilt your head curiously. And then, “d- do you need a ride?” he mumbles, cheeks warm.

It’s a feeble attempt at asking what he really wants. Offering you a ride home, while not a bad idea considering it was late and you had taken the bus here, is nowhere near what Jungkook really wants. What he wants is standing before him, thin spaghetti strap slipping down their shoulder, eyes sensually half-lidded and you know this too— because, again, you know Jungkook so well, know what he wants even if he can’t say it —as you step into his bubble again, peer up at him with your arms held behind your back.

“A ride home?” you ask, blinking your long lashes in a way that robs him of his breath. And he can see that switch flick on inside of you, watches that pure and innocent gleam in your eyes slowly become replaced with something mischievous. Jungkook nods dumbly. “I’d love that.”

Jungkook blinks. “Great,” he chokes out, neatly dropping the wicker basket in his hands. In a way, it brings him back down to reality, lets him snap away from your hypnotizing gaze as he reaches for the keys in his pocket. “Let me— I just have to— yeah,” he stammers, clicking the button on his car keys one too many times, has it perkily beeping. Your lips press together into an amused smile, the last thing Jungkook sees before ripping himself away from you and yanking the back door open.

He nearly throws the basket in like a madman, glassware be damned. It’s his last shred of rationality that tells him not to, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge as he steps up to the edge of the sidewalk and carefully places it on the floor behind the passenger’s seat.

When Jungkook rises back up, there is a hand that brushes against his forearm, a gentle touch that has him throwing a curious glance your way. He’s not expecting to be so entranced by the dreamy look in your eyes, feet glued to the ground as you trail your hand down, catching his wrist between your fingers. You’re standing so close, making Jungkook feel like he’s trapped between you and his own car. His entire body is on edge when you lean in, placing a soft kiss against the very corner of his mouth. It leaves a tingling sensation, and accompanied with the growing warmth beneath his skin, feels like he’s been burned. “I had fun,” you murmur, voice low. It sends a shock of electricity down his spine, a wave of exhilaration that has him fully turning to face you as you eventually step away, that same playful grin on your features again.

A surge of confidence and greed overcomes him, has him stepping forward into your space despite the nervousness that builds within him. There’s a hint of surprise in your eyes that you quickly mask, placating his bumbling nerves with a delicate hand placed over his heart. He can’t breathe when you lean in, softly humming, “kiss me?”

Jungkook’s lower lip wobbles. “O- Okay,” he concedes, voice but an airy whisper that is soon swallowed up. You taste like fruit and orange juice, remnants of your picnic clinging to your lips as you slowly consume Jungkook’s entire attention with this soft brush alone. It’s a rather short affair, one that ends all too soon when you pull away with a soft sigh against his lips.

Your smile is so pretty when you angle it at him, has him taking one jerky step backwards. His back hits the car, feels trapped. But he isn’t scared, doesn’t find himself anxiously awaiting your next move. “Good boy,” you purr, reaching one graceful hand forward, playfully tugging at his tie, wrapping it around your knuckles as you use it as leverage to pull him close again.

You’re just so pretty, Jungkook has always thought so. From the moment he first met you until now, there is something about you—a glint in your eyes, a quirk to your lips—that has had him under your spell for weeks now.

Had Jungkook seriously despised you and your ethics, perhaps this feeling would have gone away. But the fact of the matter is that you make Jungkook’s heart hammer dangerously in his chest, a shot of adrenaline through his veins when you look at him with those low-lidded eyes, touch him with those experienced hands. He wants you so bad, even after all he’s learned, all he’s seen. He wants you over him and under him, pressed against him from head to toe. He wants and he wants, and he knows it’s bad to want so much, to be so greedy. But with you around, Jungkook finds himself giving into that greed, clutching at it like a lifeline. “We can, um—,” he stammers, placing one uncertain hand against the top of the door frame beside him. You raise your brows, egging him on yet patiently waiting all at once.

Your gaze is so strong, and it’s in moments like these that Jungkook feels that feeling crawl up his throat. A serpentine gaze, a sticky sweet tongue. Everything he’s ever known says it’s wrong, but his heart and your confession says otherwise. He looks away, throws a bashful glance at the plush leather seats behind him. “In… inside?”

And the offer has you positively beaming before him, that same flirtatious shimmer in your irises doubling at the words that roll off his tongue. “Oh my,” you swoon playfully, stepping back to, Jungkook assumes, allow him to get in.

He plops down, feels like he would break out in a sweat if the evening temperature wasn’t so cool. The car’s interior blends into the shadows, his clothing practically indiscernible against the dark shade of the seats. A stark contrast to the pretty floral dress that suddenly spills itself over his lap when you climb in, the door tugged shut beside the two of you. All is silent, your thighs over his, hands on his shoulders. “Hi, bunny,” you murmur, lips pulled into a smirk, provocative yet playful, like you know something that Jungkook doesn’t.

Jungkook’s throat feels dry but he still manages to gulp. He’s drowning in your perfume and your body lotion, in the faint smell of the outdoors clinging to your clothes and your hair, the absolutely heavenly scent of just you in your entirety. “Hi,” he whispers back, voice lost beneath the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. And his quiet greeting is rewarded with two soft hands that crawl up his neck, cupping his face in their palms.

“You were so sweet today,” you purr, nose nudging against his when you finally lean in, pressing your breasts against Jungkook. A tiny gasp catches in his throat, his hands instinctively going to your waist. “Can I kiss you again?”

Jungkook has never wanted anything more. “Please,” he exhales, feeling like he’ll explode if you don’t kiss him soon. You take his request in stride, jut your face forward just the slightest bit until your mouth is pressed firmly against his, the movement of your lips a practiced rhythm that he just can’t seem to master. He still tries his best, puckers his lips when he feels it’s right, tilts his head when you urge him with a soft nudge. He tries his best and hopes it’s enough.

By now, Jungkook has come to understand that there is a pattern to your kisses. You always start off slow and relaxed, mouth languidly moving against his as you lure him across a tightrope of anticipation. They gradually become more intense, pulling out whimpers and sighs from Jungkook that he had never known were possible. It’s a carefully crafted art form, the tongue that slides out from between your pillowy lips, dips into his own mouth with a giggly pant. “Good boy,” you hum in between, hands burying themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck. “Always so good.”

Jungkook shudders when you eventually part, can’t catch his breath fast enough before you’re reaching for the buttons on the front of his shirt, easily undoing the casual tie too. “Relax,” you tell him, bypassing his lips for the warm expanse of skin just below. You kiss over his chin, down his neck, as your hands crawl beneath his shirt and around his naked waist.

He’s ticklish, and when you brush against his ribs, he unwillingly releases a sharp huff of laughter. It’s followed by a wide-eyed look of embarrassment, cheeks a warm hue when you lean back in surprise at this new bit of information. “I— sorry,” he blurts out, because he doesn’t know proper make-out etiquette, doesn’t know anything really, except what you’ve shown him.

But the sound makes you snort, looking at him with this gaze that drips with honey. “So cute,” you tell him, placing a chaste kiss against his lips, before disappearing back down to lavish his throat with filthier kisses. And with you laving your tongue across his skin, biting at every inch available, Jungkook is left to fuzzily stare over the crystal clear windshield. He’s struck with the faint realization that if someone were to look hard enough, they would see him through the tinted glass as he fell apart into the hands of a pretty girl.

The soft smack of your lips against his skin is sensual, makes every hair on his body stand stiff. Your lips trail down the column of his neck, placing a bruising kiss at the juncture where it meets the rest of his body. “Oh,” he sighs, eyelids fluttering when a hand squeezes at his chest, thumb against his nipple.

Another muffled giggle pressed against the base of his neck, and when Jungkook focuses his eyes again, he catches his own gaze in the rearview mirror.

The sight of him is… weird to say the least.

Even in the dark, his lips look thoroughly debauched, puffier and redder than usual, slick with saliva that isn’t entirely his. He doesn’t tell himself to, but his mirrored counterpart peeks his tongue out, runs it along his top lip sinfully. Startled by his own appearance, Jungkook jolts in place, feeling you shift in his lap with a soft little whine. “Bunny,” you frown, and Jungkook watches your side profile in the tiny mirror as you sit back up, press your lips against his ear. “Sit still for me,” you tell him, hand slithering up his chest, around his throat. Over his Adam’s apple, squeezing just the slightest. It’s not tight, but it knocks the air out of his lungs when he sees the action mirrored back at him on the reflective surface.

That familiar guilt sticks in his throat, evident when your hand slips away and he swallows harshly, the protrusion just beneath his skin bobbing up and down.

In the back of Jungkook’s mind, he can recall the religious story that surrounded this bodily feature; a sin and the consequence. A garden and a fruit, a beautiful woman by his side.

Your hand creeps down between your bodies, palming over his quickly fattening cock, and Jungkook swears he sees stars, a strained whimper escaping from his lips that you giggle at. “Oh my,” he huffs, clutching at the skirt of your dress. You nuzzle close again, pressing a tender kiss against the side of his neck.

Your hands are so soft and sweet, brushing over his cock like you’re simply caressing him out of adoration and not because you want him to cum, staining his seats and your dress. Either way, Jungkook can’t even begin to imagine what you must be thinking; before the date and his confession, he had been afraid that you would discard him. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t what you wanted, maybe he wasn’t what you needed. You were so confident in yourself and your actions, a stark contrast to Jungkook and his constant uncertainty, his fear of doing the wrong thing plaguing him at all hours of the day.

Even now, with your hands expertly tugging his zipper down, he finds himself going back to that story. That apple in the garden, the consequences it had hailed. Never mind the fact you’re on top of him, claiming to like him, with your hands touching every inch of his skin. He keeps looping back to that Biblical verse instead, thinks about it when your fingers meanly let the elastic band of his briefs snap against his skin. “Ouch,” he flinches, voice a soft whine. He turns too quickly and too suddenly, nose bumping against yours because you’re still so close.

You smile, puckering your lips for the lightest of kisses. It’s the little things like that that make Jungkook’s entire thought process stall, distantly aware of the fact that it’s, like always, you leading the majority of your encounters once again. Even during your picnic, it had been you who had practically held his hand as you navigated through basic information, asked for his favorite color and his favorite drink. Had it not been for your own proactive tendencies, Jungkook fears he would have never known your favorite color was pink or your favorite day of the week was Thursday.

It’s a fact that makes him pause, jaw tightening as he once again realizes how little effort he was putting into knowing you. For someone who claimed to like you a lot, he rarely did the work to prove it. Even now, he’s too unsure of who he is and who you are to indulge you properly, instead watching you lead the scene as usual. Before he can stop himself, a sigh is escaping his lips.

It must convey his emotions perfectly, because it’s enough to make your wandering hands pause by his waist. “Everything okay?” you ask, always knowing what he’s feeling. And it sucks that he couldn’t say the same for himself.

“N— Yes,” he rushes to say, looking up at you with round eyes, the moonlight painting half of your face a paler color than usual, the other side shrouded in darkness. It makes your eyes look darker, makes Jungkook gulp loudly when you turn those inquisitive eyes on him.

His answer doesn’t seem to convince you, and it’s with little to no hesitation that you sit back. It puts a distance between the two of you that Jungkook can’t say he’s a fan of. “Jungkook,” you say, voice stern yet warm, one hand reaching up to brush your knuckles against his cheek. “Tell me what’s bothering you?”

It makes Jungkook nervous. He knows he thinks too much. Part of him fears that oversharing with you will drive you away, put you even farther than you are now. Maybe next time it’ll be a room’s length away, a football field’s length away. And he doesn’t want that; he wants to hold you close, he really does. But there are traditions he carries and beliefs he holds dearly that make it hard for him to do so, as much as it pains him.

The only reason he knows he’s frowning is because you press your pointer finger against the corner of his mouth. You lean in close, nose bumping against his. It sends your scent billowing over him, makes him dizzy when he becomes aware of the hand he’s got on your bare thigh, the rumpled skirt of your dress pushed away. “Talk to me, bunny,” you murmur. You don’t make a move to kiss him, a fact that Jungkook feels both grateful and disheartened by. “Please?”

And he can’t deny you, not when you ask so nicely. You have this metaphorical grip on Jungkook, a tight hold around his throat that has made him act impulsively these past few weeks, desperate to be with you, to please you. Even now, despite how much he wants to withhold his thoughts, he finds himself quietly admitting them instead. “I want to know you,” he mumbles, unable to meet your eye. You don’t push him to. “I really, um. I like you, __. A lot.” It’s a repetition of his earlier confession. And still, it makes him nervous. A thumb brushes against his cheekbone, encouraging him to meet your solemn gaze even if it means being a blushing mess afterwards. “Before we, uh, do… things.”

His words may be choppy and incoherent, but you understand him all the same. “You want to go out some more,” you clarify, removing your hand from his cheek. The phantom trail of your fingertips on his skin remains, feels colder when you lean away to allow him some more space.

Jungkook nods quickly, hoping this rush of adrenaline might help him through this. He bites down on his lower lip, carefully analyzing your expression for any signs of disbelief or disgust. But all he sees is understanding, a cool expression that makes Jungkook’s heart thunder. “I…,” he says, glancing down at where he’s still got his hand on your naked skin. Something inside of him tells him to rub his thumb across it, an action he doesn’t think through until he hears a sharp inhale, watches goosebumps rise over the skin. “I’m sorry,” he rushes out, snatching his hand away before he can do something else of a similar sort. “I- I just—“ said hand now waves around wildly beside him “—I really like you, as a, um— uh. A person. And I—“ and this is where he becomes aware of his unbuttoned shirt and the way you’ve got your pretty pussy pressed against his thigh now “—I, um. I want to know me— I mean, you —better? More? Like—“

His embarrassing babbling is cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips. No tongue, no saliva. Just soft lips against his, a delicate hand against his shoulders. When you pull away, Jungkook unconsciously trails after the touch, eyes half-lidded and in a daze when you place a palm on his chest. “I got it,” you say, lips quirking into a tiny smile. “I want to know more about you too, bunny,” you admit, reaching for the front of his shirt. He watches on with flushed cheeks as you slowly button it up for him, finishing it off with a playful tap against the underside of his chin.

You glance out of the window thoughtfully. Jungkook is suddenly reminded of how pretty you are, your skin practically glimmering under the pale moonlight. It catches on your necklace, a thin chain with a cross on the end. If he focuses his eyes behind you, his own reflection stares back once more. Jungkook’s entire body threatens to lock up tightly, but a single kiss on the cheek from you interrupts the process. “Do you wanna date?” you ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jungkook can’t agree fast enough. “I— yes,” he gasps, leaning forward too suddenly. It makes you flinch back in surprise, back pressing up against the driver’s seat behind you in surprise. You wouldn’t have fallen or anything, but Jungkook reacts like it was a serious possibility anyway, grasping at your waist and pulling you snug against him, soft thighs sandwiching his tiny waist. “Oh, God,” he frets, immediately moving to release you.

But you catch him with two arms thrown around his neck, pulling Jungkook close to you for another kiss. Deeper and… meaningful, your satiny lips carefully slotted against his. While it surprises him at first, Jungkook finds himself melting into it soon enough. This was okay, he tells himself, and for the first time in a few weeks, he finds himself believing it.

It was just kissing— intimate yet appropriate kissing —between two people who were seeing each other. Him, properly seeing you. His heart threatens to burst out of its cage for a second. It’s the first time since he’s met you that he can fully say he hadn’t felt nervous about his actions, hadn’t felt like he was committing some grave sin for chasing after your touch. It was just a kiss, simple and sweet, making both of you smile bashfully when you eventually pull away. There was no lying and no guilt, no tears and no stress.

It felt good.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jjk fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

not allowed iii, m | jjk, myg

pairing(s): jungkook x reader x est. relationship yoongi

summary: Your relationship with Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, is unlike anything else in the entire world. At this point, it’s almost like telepathy with how close you are. Still, he surprised you. Such as asking Jeon Jungkook to fuck you. Once. Twice. And this time Jungkook is waiting for you, with Yoongi.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship with Yoongi (and they basically have heart eyes whenever they see each other lol); tiny bit of angst; feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, voyeurism, f and m-receiving oral, fingering, m-masturbation, partial handjob, doggy, double penetration/spit roasting); idol!BTS; takes place after 2021 GDA, yup blond JK is best boy and kind boy

mentions of the pandemic because this is based on real time

–

You closed the door behind you and breathed out slowly. It was late, quite dark outside. Most people would be asleep by now. You unhooked your black face mask from your ears and pushed the hood of your black parka down, releasing your hair.

Ah, there was always stress and adrenaline to get here.

You had stated working again, so you weren't here every day anymore. You had to go back after all, if you wanted to keep your job. You worked from home most days and, with the current state of the world, now it was all the time. Still, you couldn’t take any chances. You made sure to get tested and have your results before coming here. Negative, so you were good.

You turned on the light.

A blond bullet collided into you.

"Oof!"

You had to plant your feet and brace for impact, and you still almost toppled over. You would have if it wasn't for the strong arms that encircled you and lifted you up, making you dizzy as you were spun around.

"Ack, J-Jungkook..."

You could feel your eyes rolling in their sockets. You were put firmly on the ground and still being squeezed to death.

"I'm so happy to see you!" Jeon Jungkook, the Golden Maknae of BTS, exclaimed, albeit in a hushed tone, but no less excited. "I was surprised when you said you could come today!"

You managed to blink your eyeballs back in place to see Jungkook's animated face above you, blond hair fluffy and bouncy from spinning you around. He wasn't wearing any makeup and he smelled freshly washed, as if he had taken a late shower. His brown eyes were sparkling as he grinned at you, showing off his bright white teeth. You hadn't seen his ash blond hair in real life yet, only on television.

You smiled at him. "Yeah? Did you miss me?"

Jungkook nodded quickly. "I wanted to show you my hair." He bent down and placed it against your nose. You could smell the nice scent of the herbal product he used. “Do you like it, noona?"

You chuckled. "Of course, I like it," you said fondly, nuzzling the dark roots of the blond locks. It felt nice inhaling his familiar scent, a comforting and clean one. "You're my lock screen."

"I've been betrayed."

You chuckled as you heard the raspy, sleepy voice of Min Yoongi, your boyfriend. Owner of said apartment you were in right now. The lazy center of your universe. The reason why you even bothered to run around in the dark. The reason why you had to match your schedule with the guard shift so the security that recognized you could turn a blind eye. Not all of the security recognized you, just the ones Yoongi had a careful and stem conversation with. That’s how it had to be.

All because Min Yoongi was also SUGA of BTS. Agust D. Lil meow meow. The softest fluff with the sharpest tongue.

You looked up to see Yoongi padding down the hallway in a black long-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose black pants. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, squinting, but with a small smile on his lips. Jungkook released you as Yoongi neared, your body automatically wandering towards him. You reached into your oversized parka coat and pulled out your phone. You had changed the outside once again, to a TinyTan SUGA clear case, to show off the multi-chrome purple finish of the BTS S20+. You turned it around in your hand and pressed the side button. The screen lit up, revealing your lock screen.

"Thanks for standing next to each other. It made picking a lock screen much easier."

It was a picture of Jungkook and Yoongi, standing on stage right before the 'Life Goes On' performance at GDA 2020.

"I missed seeing you there," you added softly, holding your phone tightly. It was weirdly emotional, knowing Yoongi was back. How could he ever think anyone was going to forget him? “It’s always better when the seven of you are together.”

Yoongi chuckled, fluffing the back of his black hair. "Ah, back to working hard once again..." he complained, but you could tell he didn't mean it at all.

And for you.

You wanted him to be on stage again. You wanted him to be busy again, doing what he loved, getting into nonsense in Run BTS!, looking cool in photo shoots, back to actively making music all the time. You were an independent person and you didn't necessarily need your significant other to always be beside you. For the longest time, you had even been quite comfortable with it. But the little while of Yoongi's sudden rest made you realize that it was nice to always be around him. To be somewhat normal, even if your relationship couldn’t and would never be fully normal.

And now you were disturbing his sleep. Now, not just his, but Jungkook's too. And maybe... Maybe that made you a burde–

Yoongi suddenly stepped up and tapped you lightly on the forehead with two fingers.

"Stop that train of thought right now."

You frowned and bonked him right back with the back of your hand. "What if I was thinking about dick, huh?"

"If you were thinking about dick, you'd be on Jungkook's right now, and then I'd be pulling up a chair to watch the show."

"What if I was thinking about your dick, hmm?"

"Do you even remember what my dick looks like?" Yoongi replied haughtily.

"Of course, I do. You painted the fucking Mona Lisa on my tits the last time I was here."

"Hm, you're right."

Jungkook was laughing hard behind you, the high-pitched one that came out when he couldn’t help himself. Both of you turned to see Jungkook with his arms around his stomach as he cackled at your bickering.

"It's like..." Jungkook wheezed. "It's like watching hyung fight himself and losing..."

"I’m not losing," Yoongi retorted, pursing his lips.

"You always lose."

"Because I let you win."

"That's true, because you love me."

You smiled cheekily at Yoongi. You thought he was going to give you his usual snappy comeback, but instead he leaned over and kissed your forehead. His hair shaded his eyes a little. He smiled at you, dark brown orbs sparkling.

I do love you.

"You wanna spend all night standing here or are you going to join me in bed?" Yoongi teased, ticking his chin at your sneakers.

You pointed to Jungkook. "Is he coming too?"

The laughter instantly left Jungkook’s face, replaced by nervousness. "Ah... I don't have to..." he stammered. "If you guys want to be alone... I only wanted to say hello..."

"He's coming," Yoongi said purposefully, ignoring Jungkook's ramble. "He's been waiting two hours to stick his dick in you."

"Hyung!"

You raised your eyebrows as you stepped out of your shoes. "I stated my arrival time in the text. Did you not tell him?"

"I told him, but he came right after shooting. Just in case you arrived earlier."

You smirked and tugged on Jungkook’s white shirt. "Did he tell you why I can only come at specific times?"

"I know, but..." Jungkook chewed on his lip. "Hyung said he would try and see if you could come more often."

You smiled ruefully as you took Yoongi's hand and followed him down the hall. You were still holding onto Jungkook's shirt, so you lowered your hand to take his too. He looked surprised for a second before you squeezed it reassuringly. The white with his blond hair was a good choice. You wondered if it was done on purpose. He was even wearing nicer black trousers, although his shirt wasn’t tucked in.

Was it for your sake?

"Ah, I don’t know if that’s possible. Don't want anyone to find out, after all. And," you added with a chuckle. "I don't want to get you in trouble either, Jungkookie."

"He's already in trouble," Yoongi laughed. "Taehyung caught him mumbling your name in his sleep."

Jungkook's cheeks instantly flushed. "I-It wasn't sexual!"

You blinked at him. "No one said it was."

He turned redder and grabbed your parka, hiding his face behind the big hood. "R... right."

Maybe you were being too greedy. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut so Yoongi wouldn’t feel pressure to indulge in your fantasies. Maybe you were asking too much.

The sigh came out of you, heavy with self-doubt.

"Maybe we shou–"

Yoongi's lips were suddenly on yours, kissing you deeply. Your eyes widened as he pressed you against Jungkook's hard body, watching you through half-lidded eyes. He could sense your worry and perhaps he guessed your reaction. You hand reached back to hold onto Jungkook to prevent yourself from falling, but your eyes were on Yoongi, the one who knew you best, the one who knew that he too was asking a lot from you, the one who was trying to remind you that everything was okay. His dark brown orbs were telling you, we will take everything step by step, and his lips moved on yours, I love you. You mouthed it back with a smile.

Yoongi pulled away, the smile reaching his eyes.

"You're the most special person to me."

Your heart softened, hearing those familiar words from your current favorite song.

"I thought that was for ARMY."

Yoongi raised an eyebrow in mock distraught. "Are you not an ARMY?"

"Of course."

"Then it's for you too."

Yoongi was like that. He couldn't and wasn't the kind of guy to write you traditional love songs, but he gave you all sorts of other things. Small things, actions that seemed trivial or nonexistent to others. And maybe someone else would overlook those things, but you knew how difficult it was for him to show affection, even more so because of his job. To be honest, you were similar, showing your love in nuance and teasing. Also, you liked the treasure hunt that was Min Yoongi. And above all, most importantly, he listened to you, listened so deeply it felt like he knew what you were thinking.

There was nothing like the telepathy been you and Min Yoongi.

Jungkook was sniffing your head.

"What's this small?"

You almost laughed at his childlike tone. Yoongi smiled too, leaning forward and sniffing your temple, next to your hair.

"Oh? It's fruity."

"It's peaches," you explained as Jungkook parted your hair to sniff deeper, as if that was going to do anything. He was probably just trying to fuck up your hair. "I ran out of shampoo and they didn’t have my usual at the store."

You were suddenly aware that you were squashed between Yoongi and Jungkook’s bodies as they two of them were smelling you, Yoongi’s arms around your waist, Jungkook’s hands on your hips. Despite being fully clothed, the position was sending tingles up your spine, your breathing shallowing, tickling Yoongi’s cheek as Jungkook brushed your hair to one side, pressing his lips against your bare neck. You felt Yoongi’s lips on your jaw, kissing against your pulse. You whined a little, one hand bunching against Yoongi’s shirt as your other hand drifted down to Jungkook’s right hand on your hip, stroking his knuckles.

Yoongi reached up to unzip your parka.

“W-wait, be careful–” you started, but Yoongi shushed you, nuzzling your cheek.

“I will be,” Yoongi whispered softly. “That’s why Jungkook’s here to help me.”

You bit your lip as Yoongi unzipped your coat with his right hand, using his left to hold the placket down. He kissed up to your mouth as his hands slid into the coat, fingers brushing against the red flannel underneath. Jungkook’s lips were moving up to your ear, lightly nipping at the curve and making you shiver, chest bumping against Yoongi’s as your ass hit Jungkook’s crotch.

“I…” You shut your eyes, trying to concentrate as Yoongi sucked on your lower lip. “I don’t deserve this…”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, biting at your lip roughly. You opened your eyes to his disapproving glare, eyes dark from his lowered lashes. His large hands squeezed your waist.

“You’re not allowed to say such things.”

You felt the heat spread from his hands, pooling into your core.

“Isn’t that right, Jungkook?”

Yoongi ticked an eyebrow at you as you gasped a little, Jungkook’s lips on your earlobe, voice lustful and deep.

“That’s right, noona. Let Yoongi-hyung and I ruin you.”

…

Help.

Yoongi’s fingers began undoing the buttons of the red flannel, one by one. He was well practiced at unbuttoning shirts with one hand now. A skill that he had honed for himself and for you. He smirked as you noticed, whispering your name in a slow, purring drawl, deep and raspy, dark brown eyes watching you and drinking in your reaction.

Min Yoongi was scary. He knew how to make you wet instantly.

And then Jungkook did the same, breathing your name into your ear in his silvery low octave. Your hand on Yoongi’s shirt clenched and tugged him close, moaning into his lips, kissing him hard. Jungkook’s hand slipped out of yours and reached up to your shoulders, pushing your clothes down, revealing your bare skin. Taking them off you as your tongue slid into Yoongi’s mouth, his soft pants against your lips as your hips grinded into Jungkook’s crotch, feeling him harden at your closeness. Your parka and shirt slid to the floor as Yoongi pulled you forward, closer and closer to the bed, Jungkook encouraging you by smacking your ass with his hips.

Yoongi broke the kiss with a flick of his head, making you whine in disappointment. He chuckled, looking down at you with a devious smile.

“Jungkook wants something from you.”

Yoongi turned you around with his hands on your hips, colliding you with Jungkook’s hard chest. You gasped a little, looking up to see Jungkook chewing on his lower lip, bunny teeth flashing. The tiny mole under his lip bounced with his biting. His golden hair framed his apprehensive brown eyes, finally making eye contact.

“What’s wrong, Jungkook?” You tilted your head. “Do you want me to blow you again?”

Jungkook’s ears flushed red. “A-ah, n-no… I mean, yes, but…”

Yoongi snickered, unhooking your bra with his right hand. He lowered one strap and then the other, stripping it from you and tossing it aside. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink, eyes immediately dropping to stare at your tits. You smirked, placing your palms underneath them and bouncing them a little. You felt Yoongi’s fingers dancing down the small of your back, hovering around the waistband of your black sweatpants.

“Why aren’t you dressed like how you are on your Instagram?” Yoongi muttered behind you. “False advertising.”

“You have an Instagram?” Jungkook blurted out, still staring at your nipples.

You rolled your eyes even though Yoongi couldn’t see you. “Because someone would notice, obviously.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue. “Just one time…”

“Wait, how come I don’t know you have an Instagram?” Jungkook whined, hands coming up to settle on your breasts and squeezing them. You lowered your hands, gasping as Jungkook’s palms rubbed against your hard nipples.

“You never asked,” Yoongi answered, snapping the waistband into your skin. “Also, it’s private.”

“C-can we talk about this later?” you panted out.

Jungkook grinned and dropped his hands a little, brushing his fingers against your nipples. You moaned softly, your vision shaded by your lashes, seeing his mischievous smirk.

“Mhm, as long as you promise to show me after.”

You scoffed. “Sure, it’s not that interestin–” You whimpered as Jungkook pinched your nipples, rubbing them between his fingertips. “A-ah, Jungkook…”

He breathed your name, no honorifics, and your eyes locked with his. Fuck, he was so handsome with his ash blond hair, reminding you of when Yoongi had blond hair. Ugh, so fucking hot. You felt your sweatpants being shoved down your hips but you barely noticed, lost in daydreams of blond Yoongi and blond Jungkook.

“Can I eat you out?”

You were abruptly yanked back into the present by Jungkook’s request.

“Yes.” Fuck. You said that far too fast and far too needy. Jungkook grinned, removing his hands from your breasts. “Ah, I mean…”

He leaned forward, pressing his nose against yours. “You’re out of it today.”

You felt Yoongi’s fingers slip under the waistband of your panties. His lips were traveling down your back, kissing down your spine. You trembled slightly, swallowing as you stared into Jungkook’s dark brown eyes.

And you couldn’t help but think, was this really okay? Was this fair, for you to have both at once?

Jungkook tipped his head, lips against yours. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “I thought you wanted me?” His soft hair brushed against your cheek, golden rays blocking your vision. “Thought you loved looking at me?”

“I do,” you whimpered. “I love looking at you.”

Yoongi fingers pulling your panties down, down, liquid leaking out and clinging to the inside of your thighs. Your cheeks heated, realizing how wet you were.

“Then what’s the matter?” Yoongi purred against your lower back.

“Don’t… don’t want to hurt you, Yoongi,” you whispered against Jungkook’s lips. Your vision blurred and you blinked rapidly. Ah, why was the world so heavy all of a sudden? Why couldn’t you be calm as usual? Why couldn’t you roll with it as usual?

Because you missed them.

Them.

Jungkook kissed you tenderly as Yoongi stood back up, his lips pressed to your ear.

“There’s nothing like us. You know there isn’t.”

He was right, of course. There was nothing like you and Yoongi.

Jungkook pulled back and Yoongi’s right hand appeared in your periphery, his long fingers tucking Jungkook’s blond hair behind his left ear, giving you a clear view of Jungkook’s beautiful eyes, the unique shape, the rich brown color, the way they looked at you, as if he was afraid you were going to disappear. Waiting for the heartbreak.

“And there’s no one like Jungkook,” Yoongi murmured. “You want him. He wants you. Isn’t that enough?”

And Yoongi was right again. There was no one like Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you breathed. “I’m sorry, but I really do want you so bad.”

“You can have me. However much you want,” Jungkook replied. Eyes locked with yours, meaning every word. He tilted his head, leaning in again, lashes lowering, breath against your lips.

“I want you to take it all.”

But Jungkook wasn’t the only one who said it.

Your eyes widened as you heard Yoongi echo Jungkook’s words right into your ear.

“Take it all,” Yoongi growled. “Take it and don’t hold back.”

Your name fell from Yoongi’s lips, your name, like a spark to fire, igniting you. There no one like Yoongi, snapping you out of your doubt, taking your heart and holding it tight while turning you on. You grabbed Jungkook’s white shirt and yanked his body to yours as you kissed him, inhaling his clean scent, his lips an addiction. And there was no one like Jungkook, because what both of you thought was just a crush, just a one-time thing, wasn’t. For some reason, you couldn’t stop and he couldn’t stop, hooked on the taste of his lips and his tongue sliding against yours, moaning into your mouth as you moaned into his, feeling Yoongi’s hands on your hips, pressing you into Jungkook’s clothed crotch, some of your juices getting onto his pants and staining them.

Jungkook pushed your head up, breaking the kiss and gasping, eyelids fluttering. He pressed your head back against Yoongi’s shoulder, kissing down your chest, running his tongue over your skin. You shuddered, head falling back down to watch him. Chocolate orbs to yours as he licked your left nipple, twirling his wet muscle around it, covering it with saliva. You whimpered at the dirty action, arching your back to press the hard nub into his mouth. Jungkook whined in his throat, closing his lips around it as you humped your chest onto his face. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, intensifying the feeling as Yoongi teased your other nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck…”

Your thighs squeezed together, desperate for friction.

Jungkook released your nipple, licking it a few times, letting you watch the swollen nub get slapped back and forth by his tongue. You shivered, hips bumping into his. Jungkook’s strong hands came up to hold you still.

“Don’t waste it by rubbing it all over me,” he teased. “I want it in my mouth.”

You clutched his white shirt and yanked up, making Jungkook yelp with your force.

“Take it off,” you half-growled, half-whined. “Need it off.”

Yoongi chuckled at your impatience as Jungkook wiggled out of his shirt, throwing it aside. He looked back at you, blond hair covering one of his eyes, smirk on his lips.

“Better?”

Ugh, Jungkook was so attractive. The shape of his broad shoulders, his sculpted arms, the fucking tattoos that shone on his tan skin, the way his body trimmed down to that v-line. Your eyes roamed down his torso and then back up, licking your lips. Jungkook raised his eyebrows, completely aware of your staring.

“Yes. Much better.”

You took him by the shoulders and pushed him down to his knees. His eyes widened, stumbling a little as he knelt for you, hands coming up to grip your hips for support. You pushed his left hand away, hooking your leg onto Jungkook’s left shoulder and presenting your pussy right into his face. He gasped at the sight, eyes glued to your dripping core, lips parting wetly.

“Fuck,” he breathed hotly. You squirmed, trying to get into his face, but his right hand held you down, drinking in the image in front of him, left hand finding your ass and gripping it tightly. “You smell so fucking sexy.”

“Jungkook, please…”

His eyes flickered up to your face, half-lidded with lust, dipping his head down.

“Can’t resist you,” he mumbled. “I just have to have a taste of his nectar.”

And then his tongue on you, licking a fat stripe across your opening, moaning as your flavor invaded his tastebuds, his hand lifting your ass to tip your hips into his hot mouth. You gasped, pressing into Yoongi’s chest, your hands reaching behind you and gripping his slim waist. You had to tilt your body and lock your upper arms so you wouldn’t bump into his left shoulder by accident. Yoongi hummed soothingly, aware of your consideration, hands gently kneading your breasts as Jungkook’s wet tongue slid into your hole, witnessing your wanton expression as he sucked out your juices, adding a little suction, removing it, driving you insane.

“A-ah, yes, fuck, Jungkook, yes…”

When was the last time Yoongi ate you out? Months ago. Yoongi had a tongue unmatched, the perfect combination of speed, pressure, and technique. His tongue technology, one might say. Jungkook’s tongue was softer, less practiced, but he made up for it with enthusiasm and his intense gaze on you, moaning into your pussy. You slid down a little and cried out as his tongue made contact with your sensitive clit, his tongue pressing against it and swirling, sending shocks of pleasure through you, your thigh tensing against his cheek.

“Mm, yes, Jungkook, right there…”

Yoongi pinched and pulled your nipples. You snuck a glance at him, looking up, and realized he was looking down at you. His lips curved upwards to a playful smirk as he noticed your curious gaze. He tugged at your nipples, earning your soft whines.

“You moved down to put less strain on my shoulder?” he murmured fondly.

You nodded quickly, gasping as Jungkook sucked on your clit, causing you to roll your hips into his face. Jungkook grunted, digging his fingers into your ass, spreading you out under him. Fuck, his mouth was so soft and so warm, adding to your heat. Your hands worked into his hair, pressing him into you, his slurping sounds so lewd that your legs were quivering.

His eyes flickered to yours, pupils dilated, nose in your crotch, and, fuck, Jeon Jungkook was just so hot, on his knees and eating you out like a fucking buffet, his tattooed arm curved around you and your right thigh on his left shoulder, pressing against his cheek as your fingers curled in his blond locks, humping his face to add friction. Either Jungkook was inherently good at eating pussy or he had somehow rehearsed this and, considering his profession, you were guessing the former.

The Golden Maknae lived up to his name in appearance and talent.

You didn’t want to lean too much on Yoongi, so you put more of your weight onto Jungkook. He seemed to feel nothing at all, busy clamping his lips down on your clit and sucking harder. You sank your teeth into your lower lip, wail in your throat, squeezing your eyes shut as all of the sensations piled on you at once – Yoongi’s deft fingers playing with your nipples, Jungkook’s scorching mouth and tongue abusing your swollen clit, your hands gripping Jungkook’s soft hair and fucking his handsome face – and it was too much, all too much as your lower lip popped out of your teeth, moaning loudly as your orgasm radiated through you, throbbing waves rippling from your core as you came into Jungkook’s waiting mouth and chin, leaking all over his skin, dripping down his neck. He groaned, vibrating your clit, and you gasped, rutting into his face roughly, pressing your head into Yoongi’s torso.

“Oh, God, fuck, Jungkook, Yoongi…”

You weren’t sure if Jungkook was suffocating or not, but Jungkook himself didn’t seem to give a shit, cleaning you off with his tongue and burying his nose into your pussy, rubbing it against your clit. Your hips bucked at the sensitivity, your leg falling off his shoulder as you sucked in a breath. It forced his mouth to retreat, and you were greeted with the sight of Jungkook’s eyes slowly opening, his nose, lips, and chin covered in your glistening, viscous juices. He made eye contact with you, hand coming up to wipe it off, pink tongue sliding out and licking it from the back of his hand.

“Hah…” Jungkook panted, hungrily sucking up your taste. “That’s my drink of choice.”

You chuckled. “Sorry you can’t get it at a bar.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirking devilishly. “I can if you’re sitting on the bar, legs spread open for me.”

Damn, what a visual. You straightened with the help of Yoongi, only for his right hand to close around your arm, yanking you to the bed. You started, bouncing slightly as you fell onto the mattress. Jungkook seemed amused, standing up to watch with interest. His blond hair was tousled wildly, messy from you holding onto his head. He smirked, lips dark pink from eating you out, the sharpness of his jawline standing out. But you couldn’t stare at him for long, because Yoongi plunged three fingers into your aching pussy, filling you up suddenly. You yelped, snapping your head to Yoongi’s dark, intense gaze, made darker by his black bangs shadowing his eyes.

“Y-Yoongi!”

He purred your name, giving you a teasing smile, tongue against the side of his pink lips.

“Mhm?”

“W-want…” You gasped as he slowly thrust into you, thumb knuckle rubbing against your inflamed clit, pushing his fingers in, your pussy clenching around them. “Want your cock…”

“Sorry, my love,” he murmured. “Can’t yet. Doctor’s orders.”

You furrowed your brows at him, raising your hips to meet his hand. “I’m beginning you think you’re enjoying denying me.”

Yoongi’s foxy smile implied just that. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down, tongue dancing between his teeth, snickering as you whimpered. “I’m not denying you. That’s why I asked Jungkook to come and stuff his big cock into you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip and snapped your legs closed, eyes rolling back into your head as you came all over his hand, soaking his skin and dripping onto the bed. Yoongi moaned softly as he felt your walls pulse against his fingers.

“Fuck, I love it when I can feel you cum for me.”

You shuddered, muscles tingling with pleasure. Yoongi pulled his fingers out slowly, groaning as he felt you tighten around them, trying to prevent him from leaving. He chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

“Could you help hyung out, Jungkook?”

You shifted your eyes to Jungkook, who suddenly froze, the fly of his black pants wide open, hand down his black boxer briefs. Yoongi noticed your startled expression and turned his head too, both eyebrows raising. Jungkook’s cheeks tinged pink.

“Er…”

“Were you jacking off just now?”

Jungkook’s eyes darted everywhere except Yoongi’s face. “Er…”

“Show me, Jungkook,” you breathed out.

His large doe-like eyes shot to your body to on the bed, legs spreading, Yoongi’s wet fingers hovering over your quivering mound. He stole a glance at Yoongi, who jerked his head towards you.

“She gave you an order.”

“Hyung…” Jungkook whined. “It’s embarrassing…”

Yoongi shrugged, his fingers touching your swollen clit. You jumped, gasping as he rubbed in slow, large circles, stimulating it gently. The sensitive bundle of nerves throbbed against his fingertips, pussy clenching around nothing.

“Y-Yoongi, don’t, I’m t-too sensitive,” you panted, legs threatening to close once more.

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi said sternly. “Let Jungkookie see.”

You gritted your teeth, hands twisting in the sheets, hips raising to his hand. “I c-can’t… You’re too good, Yoongi…” You had to lock your knees to prevent them from collapsing inwards, feeling him build his speed, eyes fluttering closed as you moaned once more, feeling the pleasure flood throughout, wetter and wetter, your slit opening and closing. You felt Yoongi lean down, his black hair against your cheek. Oh, fuck. His pine-scented cologne. Sex. Yoongi. You resisted the urge to grab his head and fiercely make out with him. He wasn’t fully recovered yet. His voice was that low, raspy drawl, arousing you just as much as his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Open your eyes and see what you’ve done to poor Jungkook.”

You opened your eyes to see Jungkook was closer now, right next to the bed, pants and underwear around his knees as he pumped his cock right next to you, eyes fixated on Yoongi’s fingers and your sopping wet pussy, his pouty pink lips wet and open, blond hair all over his face. The head of his cock was an angry red, veins popping out along the thick length as he smeared his pre-cum over the tip with his finger, hissing at the sensitivity. He seemed to feel your stare and then your eyes locked.

“Jungkook…”

Breathlessly, his name drifting out of your lips like smoke.

His dark brown orbs were nearly black with how blown-out his pupils were. He gasped your name out, needy and desperate, his chin lifting, hair falling back to reveal his lustful dark eyes as his mouth opened, pink tongue lolling out a little.

“Wanna cum with you,” Jungkook begged. “Tell when you’re close. Please.”

You nodded, sharply cut off as Yoongi assaulted your clit, forearm nearly vibrating as he pushed you to the edge, so close, so close that you had to chomp down on the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from orgasming right then and there.

“Y-Yoongi, he’s not ready yet…”

Yoongi chuckled. “Oh, I know.”

You whimpered, thighs caving in a little, but Yoongi growled deep in his chest, warning you.

“Don’t close your legs.”

Normally you would fight him, but this situation was different. You wanted to please Yoongi, give him everything he asked for because you knew he couldn’t get everything he wanted. Your core tightened, the pitch of your cries hiking as you tried to hold back, staring at Jungkook’s long fingers wrapped around his thick, stiff cock, black tattoos rippling on tan skin as he chased his climax, watching your legs shake with strain as Yoongi took you to your limits. Your wetness was soaking a puddle into the sheets, the scent of your arousal so strong it seemed to prevail all others.

Fuck, you couldn’t anymore, you just couldn’t.

“J-Jungkook… a-ah, gonna cum soon, fuck, Yoongi, fuck, you’re too fucking good!”

Your last words turned into a wild, guttural moan as you came, hips ramming into Yoongi’s hand, back arching, your orgasm pulling you up taut like a marionette on a string, thighs shaking as your pussy throbbed with release. Your juices dripped down like honey, splattering over your thighs and down your ass before you abruptly fell, legs crumpling as Yoongi’s hand cupped your hot, trembling mound, his heavy pants mixing with yours. He groaned softly, feeling your puffy pussy lips and clit flinch and jerk as the aftershocks rippled through your nerves.

Jungkook whined deep in his throat, splattering his cum all over your leg and on the sheets, hot thick strings that made you shudder as it covered your skin. He pumped it all out, emptying it on you. Surely, you couldn’t muster the strength to take a dick right now. But one look at Jungkook and his hand still gripping his cock, slowly, delicately stroking it once more, staring at the mess that both of you made, sweat beaded on his forehead.

Yeah, no, you definitely wanted it in you.

“Jungkook…”

He raised his head, ash blond strands soaked with sweat, wispy around his eyes.

“Want your cock.”

He smirked. “What do you say?”

Now. You resisted the urge to be a smartass. There were other ways.

“Let noona’s wet, tight pussy take care of you,” you purred.

The dominant spark in Jungkook’s eyes flitted away, replaced by his submissive doe eyes, his desire, his desperation. Fuck, it was so fun seeing that, the duality, reminding you so much of Yoongi and his softness juxtaposed with his sarcasm. Yoongi removed his hand, moving to the nightstand and grabbing a towel, reaching over to wipe Jungkook’s cum off you. You sat up, taking the towel from him as you noticed him leaning on his left arm.

“Ah, be careful,” you reprimanded, shooing him away.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m not broken.”

“You’re not fixed either,” you pouted, cleaning yourself up. You made eye contact with him and he clicked his tongue, nodding. Yoongi was about to move away, but you grabbed a fistful of his sweatpants, pulling him back. He tilted his head, sending you an inquisitive look.

“I shouldn’t do any more,” he murmured. “I can just watch.”

You yanked the side of his pants down and Yoongi arched an eyebrow. Your eyes on his crotch, then back to his face. Your lips parted, tongue flickering out. He could put two and two together.

“You can do some things without moving.”

His gaze sharpened. “I’m going to want to fuck your face.”

Your lips curved into a smirk. “Well, you can’t. You’ll have to sit there and take it like a good boy.” You removed your hand and patted the pillows, grinning. “I want to get spit roasted.”

Yoongi sucked in a tight breath, eyebrow twitching.

“It’s not really a spit roast unless you’re the passive one,” Yoongi tried to argue as he tugged his pants down, getting onto the bed. You scooted down, feeling a hard, firm body come up behind you, hands sliding up your waist to cup you breasts. You moaned softly, pressing your ass against Jungkook’s leaking cock, feeling it throb against your skin.

“Need a condom, hyung,” Jungkook panted, exhaling in satisfaction as his fingers ran over your nipples, earning pleading gasps.

Yoongi reached over to grab one as you reached back, running your hand over Jungkook’s semi-hard length, spreading the pre-cum down the head. Your fingertip touched the slit and he shivered, whining against your neck.

“Noona, don’t…”

You took the condom from Yoongi with your free hand, wrapping your fingers around Jungkook’s cock as he moaned, tugging at your nipples repeatedly. Your hips jerked involuntarily, skin rubbing against the sensitive head, making him groan.

“Need you hard for me.”

You stroked him slowly, not too tight, not too loose, his warm cock throbbing in your hand. You felt one of Jungkook’s hands leave your chest, gripping your hand tightly around his cock. His cock swelled at the sudden stop, pressing against your palm. His lips touched your ear and you shivered at his voice, low and dangerous, almost feral.

“Oh, I’ll be hard,” Jungkook snarled softly. “Impossible not to be hard…” His other hand dropped, snaking down your stomach. You tensed up as he neared closer and closer. Yoongi cleared his throat and your head snapped up to see him tilting his head, observing closely with an amused smirk.

“Jungkook, d-don’t…”

“… In this pussy.”

And you moaned loudly, feeling two of his fingers slip down and spread your pussy lips, engorged clit poking out from your repeated orgasms. Even the small stimulation made you wetter, drenching the inside of your thighs as Yoongi’s hungry eyes watched Jungkook spread you open for him to see.

“Spread your legs for hyung,” Jungkook ordered, nipping at your earlobe.

You whined, opening your thighs and tipping them up for Yoongi to see your glistening, pink pussy lips forced open by Jungkook’s fingers, your walls pulsing with need. Your hand was still around Jungkook’s cock, holding his hardness as you watching Yoongi’s right hand enclose his already stiff length, licking his lips at this dirty display.

“Flick her clit, Jungkook.”

You cried out, hips bucking as Jungkook flicked your clit with his nail, releasing his cock and falling onto your hands, staring into Yoongi’s mischievous, triumphant eyes. The condom fluttered to the bed, dropped by the sudden shock of painful ecstasy.

“P-Please…” Too many orgasms, too much pleasure. It was turning you into a mess, taking over you, leaving you at the mercy of the two men, crawling towards Yoongi, ass up in the air as you went low, looking up at him, pleading him. “Need you in my mouth, Yoongi. Wanna make you feel good.”

Yoongi removed his hand, ticking his chin to Jungkook. “Ask him to shove his dick into you.”

You bit your lip, turning back and wiggling your ass, seeing Jungkook roll the condom down. His eyes on yours, sending shivers down your spine with his intense gaze and naughty smirk.

“Jungkook.” Even his name from your lips seemed to darken his chocolate orbs with lust. “Want your cock to fill me up.”

“That’s too nice,” Yoongi chided.

Your ears burned. But, well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Jungkook, please, please use my pussy to cum, fuck, want you inside me so fucking bad.”

He groaned, sliding up to you, gripping your hips, pressing his fingers into your ass, positioning himself right at your entrance.

“You sound so fucking sexy begging for cock,” he purred. “I just have to give it to you.”

And then he plunged into you, both of you moaning so loudly that the soundproof walls were saving you once again, so wet that your pussy squelched around his thick cock. Ah, he just felt so good, so hard and unforgiving, stretching you out forcefully. You turned back to Yoongi, lowering your head as he spread his legs for you, lifting his shirt as you swallowed his cock, eyelids fluttering as his taste was on your lips once again, invading your mouth, familiar and wonderful. You saw Yoongi moan watching you, cat-like eyes shrouded with lust, biting his lip as you sank down, vibrating his cock with your cries as Jungkook’s length fully entered you, his balls hitting your over-stimulated clit.

So full.

Oh, fuck.

You tried to say Yoongi’s name around his cock, hoping your eyes could tell him what you meant. I missed this so fucking much. His perfect length filling your mouth, smelling so good and so him, burying itself in your throat.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathed. “Fuck, you look so fucking beautiful taking two cocks at once.”

Jungkook slid out a little and thrust into you. You whimpered around Yoongi, staring into his eyes, tightening your throat muscles as you opened your lips, tongue unfurling down, down.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi hissed, tipping his head back as he felt your tongue on his balls, his stiff cock throbbing as you rubbed it against the roof of your mouth, slapping his balls with your tongue at the same time, warm saliva dripping down and coating them. “Yes, fuck, you’re so good at that, fuck, I love you so fucking much, a-ah…”

And now Jungkook was really fucking you, hard, deep thrusts that shoved you repeatedly onto Yoongi’s cock. You had to retreat your head a little to prevent yourself from choking, but you didn’t stop licking Yoongi’s balls, his handsome face painted with pleasure, murmuring your name, praising you. You swiped your tongue from his balls to the tip of his member, teasing the sensitive skin underneath the head expertly before sliding back down. Up and down, stroking him with your tongue. Yoongi groaned, hips rising into your throat. Fuck, you loved seeing his normally serious face completely consumed by lust, loved the way he lost himself to you.

And, oh fuck, you loved the how you felt as your pussy was assaulted by Jungkook’s cock, stretching you out, pressing against your walls, filling you up as you squeezed him back, massaging all of him as he descended.

“Your pussy is so tight,” Jungkook panted. “Fuck, so tight and so wet, I love it so much, I love fucking you noona, you’re just so fucking good at taking cock.”

You withdrew your tongue from Yoongi’s balls, encasing your lips around his length and sucking hard, creating a tight, wet vacuum, Jungkook’s hips slapping against yours adding to your motion. Yoongi gasped, spreading his fingers on the bed, head pressed into the headboard. His dark eyes were half-lidded, watching your ass bounce as Jungkook fucked you onto his cock, forcing you to swallow him at a quick, rough pace.

“Fuck, I knew it would be good,” Yoongi breathed, gaze shifting to you and your eyes looking up at him, witnessing his satisfied expression. “Look at you. So fucking perfect, lips wrapped around my cock, Jungkook’s dick squeezed by your pretty pussy.” It made you wetter, knowing Yoongi was liking this, knowing he was aroused seeing you like this. His hand came up and tucked your hair back, fingertips brushing against your forehead. His touch made you whine, encouraging you to fuck Jungkook back eagerly, ass slapping into his crotch, bobbing your head up and down faster, tighter.

And Yoongi’s eyes on you, telling you everything. I want you, I need you, I love you.

I love you.

I’ll give you anything I can, because I can’t give you everything.

And Jungkook’s cock was twitching in your pussy, indicating he was close, his husky moans filling up the room as Yoongi’s own breathing shallowed, drinking in every detail, not wanting to miss any moment of you getting fucked so carnally, sinfully full from front to back, whole body shaking from the previous multiple orgasms. You could tell that he wanted you to feel so much pleasure that you were wrecked and it was working, oh, fuck, it was working as pleasure crawled to every fiber of your being, forgetting that your jaw and pussy were aching, forgetting your knees were basically jelly, forgetting you had any other responsibilities in life except making Yoongi and Jungkook cum with your tight, wet holes, so fueled by adrenaline that you rocked your body back and forth, stimulating both at once.

Your eyes locked with Yoongi’s.

Cum for me.

“I’m close,” he murmured. “Tighter. Choke Jungkook’s cock with your perfect pussy.”

You hollowed your cheeks and squeezed your core. You heard Jungkook yelp, fingertips digging into your ass.

“A-ah, c-can’t hold on…” Jungkook rambled, eyes rolling back, gasping for breath. “You’re so lucky, hyung, fuck, so lucky she’s yours.”

Jungkook smacked his hips into you, once, twice, letting out a deep groan as he came, shooting into you, cock throbbing against your walls as his balls slapped your clit, sending you over the edge as you whined around Yoongi’s cock, feeling it jerk in your mouth as he came down your throat, thick, delicious saltiness sliding down, pooling on your tongue, your pussy pulsing in time with Yoongi, drinking him as your pussy shivered around Jungkook’s cock, milking him dry. Your body shuddered hard, trembling from head to toe, the ferocity of your orgasm rattling you, so much so that it felt like the world was spinning. You popped your mouth off of Yoongi’s cock, sliding down against his thigh, wheezing for oxygen.

Yoongi’s hand instantly came up to touch your shoulder, caressing it tenderly. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, hot breath against his skin, knees sliding down, taking Jungkook with you because he also was at the point of exhaustion. Yoongi frowned at you and you gave him a weak thumbs up, cheekily grinning at him, wiping the spit off your chin with his thigh.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes. “Don’t you thumbs-up me, woman, tell me you’re not dying.”

You leaned against his thigh, sighing as Jungkook pulled out of you.

“I’m very pleased,” you exhaled happily.

“I’m glad the god is satisfied with her sacrifice,” Yoongi remarked dryly, trying to sound annoyed but his affectionate smile gave him away. You smiled back before turning around, finding Jungkook on his back, chest heaving, hair soaked with sweat. You scooted down to him, brushing ash blond strands away from his face. His eyes were closed, pretty lashes against his skin, cheeks flushed pink with exertion.

“I… I can go…” Jungkook mumbled. “Give you guys some alone time and stuff.”

“Jungkook.”

His opened his eyes, brown orbs shifting to you. Apologetic, kind.

“Do you want this to be more?”

His lips curved into a smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No. This is fine.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Yoongi scolded, moving to sit beside you and glare down at him.

Jungkook swallowed, looking away. “I don’t… I don’t want to be a burden, hyung. I don’t want to ruin your relationship.”

“Don’t you think you would have done that already if that was possible?” Yoongi scoffed, placing his hand on yours, rubbing your knuckles.

Jungkook eyes flickered to your joined hands, then to your face.

“R-Really…?”

You exchanged a glance with Yoongi and he poked your forehead, exasperated.

“Have I not maybe yourself clear with you?” Yoongi grumbled grumpily. His eyes shifted down, letting out a long sigh. “I can’t give you everything. I can’t go on dates. I can’t kiss you in public. I can’t even hold your hand or stand near you outside this fucking door.” The frustration was clear in his voice. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him it was okay, but you resisted, letting him get his words out. He turned to Jungkook, his dark brown eyes serious and sad.

“You can’t do that either, you know? It’s lonely. It sucks. You can only have moments like these, behind closed doors.”

Jungkook looked up at him, expression unreadable.

“Then why… why did you share it with me?”

“Because,” Yoongi started, eyes flickering to you. “Because I wanted to make her happy. Because I can’t do everything, but I can do some things. And because Bangtan is everything to me.” Yoongi was mumbling a little, not used to this level of emotion. “If I can maybe make you happy too, Jungkook, why wouldn’t I try?”

You could see Jungkook was also awkward because this was a delicate situation with even more complicated emotions, made more complex that they were two members of the same idol group, almost like brothers in closeness, held to the same rules and the same restrictions. Jungkook blinked rapidly, clearing his watering eyes. He looked away, hastily rubbing them with the back of his hand.

“Will it… Will it be less lonely if I’m with you, hyung, noona?” The younger man swallowed hard, clearing his vision and looking back up at both of you, brown eyes glassy. “Will it… suck less?”

You smiled, nodding slowly. “It would suck a whole lot less.”

Yoongi made a noise of affirmation, scrunching his nose. He was also blinking quite a bit, although he hid it better than Jungkook did.

Jungkook slid his right hand on the sheets, in front of your joined hands. Yoongi’s eyes darted about before he inhaled deeply, picking up your hand and plopping it on Jungkook’s, sandwiching it between the two larger palms. You pressed your fingertips against Jungkook’s knuckles, feeling Yoongi’s reassuring pat on the back of your hand, warmed from above and below.

Yoongi gave you his usual, apprehensive smile, as if he didn’t know what to do with his face when being told to look happy.

Jungkook grinned, bright bunny teeth flashing, eyes and nose scrunching with affection.

You couldn’t resist.

“Is this allowed?” you asked with a wide smirk.

Yoongi laughed, raspy and pretty.

“Definitely not.”

Jungkook sat up a bit, furrowing his brow as if he just remembered something.

“Wait, what about noona’s private Instagram tho–”

part iv “That's not allowed! You know what that does to me.“

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #yoongi smut #yoonkook x reader #yoonkook smut #suga x reader #min yoongi smut #jeon jungkook smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #bts smut #suga x you

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bokebelle · 3 years

Text

connie springer + friends with benefits

A/N: this is very very self-indulgent and ended up being longer than intended but please enjoy my Connie brainrot bc i love him a lot and he needs more content

WARNINGS: 16+; friends with benefits relationship; mentions of sex; modern au

PAIRINGS: connie springer x gn!reader

TAGS: fluff, a tiny tiny bit of angst.

REQUESTS: open

One of the best people to get into a friends with benefits type of relationship 💯

You guys would have to be good friends before this kind of relationship happens. Connie may be fun and goofy from time to time but he wants to make sure you trust him as a partner and vice versa

He probably wasn't even looking for a fwb type relationship tbh it probably just happened and you guys just went with it

it probably started with growing sexual tension whenever you two hung out. A little playful flirting here and there 👀

At a party, you two were a little flirter than usual and he just looked around to see if anyone was around, and whispered in your ear if you wanted to make out in his car LMAO of course you agreed

things just escalated over time til he offered to take you home one night and you best believe he did NOT go home that night

When the post nut clarity finally hit that you guys hooked up, he just asks if you would want to do it again

Connie turned to look at you, lips slightly swollen, with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and a light sheen of sweat on his chest. "So...wanna do it again?"

"Right now?!" you sit up, instantly feeling the soreness in your lower half. you definitely weren't ready for another round

"Not now, dummy. But maybe...whenever we both wanna, y'know..." he avoided looking at you, suddenly feeling embarrassed at his own proposition. "but if you totally don't want to, it's fine I understand."

A small smile dances on you lips. He looked cute all flustered, suddenly looking nervous when he was anything but just moments ago. "I think I'd like that."

You two don't really tell anyone, but you don't keep it a secret either. He'd tell them what's up if people would ask (if you wanted them to know) but since you guys flirt all the time no one really suspected anything more was going on

the longer your relationship progresses, the bolder he gets lmao literally went from being shy about asking to hookup in his apartment to dragging your ass you his car during a date because his dick "suddenly missed his best buddy" you smacked him

He is also very open to experimenting and trying new things. He'll try it once and if it doesn't work then it's fine. He also respects your boundaries if ever you don't feel comfortable with the idea of trying something new. he won pressure you and won't bring it up

Probably uses a safeword like "taco"

He isn't THAT rough that you'd need one, but he wants to give you the option of stopping whenever you feel like you can handle it 😭 this baby doesn't wanna hurt you and wants you as safe as possible 🥺

This man is a great mix of playful and serious in the bedroom. He knows when to make you laugh during sex and to tone it down when you just need a physical release. your comfort is his priority so he wants to make sure he fits whatever you need

Connie is actually really good with aftercare despite not knowing it's actually a thing!!

He just knows it's on him to take care of his partner afterwards so he helps you clean up, gives you clean clothes especially if you're at his place, and offers you a snack or asks if you wanna watch a movie

If you want to cuddle and just talk, he's totally down! if you also need some personal space, he'll totally respect that and give you the time you need, whenever you need it.

He can be a total flirt but he's also very friendly and knows his limits so he doesn't end up sending mixed signals. He's flirty enough to keep things interesting but not enough to confuse either of you about your relationship unless he falls for you.

Great aftercare? Attentive in the bedroom? Funny, handsome, respectful king? overall one of the best people to have a FWB relationship hands down

If you ever decide you want to end that kind of setup, he'll totally respect it and would still treat you as a good friend! will occasionally make inside jokes about hooking up but it's all in good nature because he enjoyed his time with you and he wants you to remember that time with the same smile he has whenever he thinks about it pls i love him

BONUS: Falling in love with Connie during your FWB relationship (and him falling in love you with back)

honestly how can you not fall for him

Connie is always so sweet, funny, respectful, both in and out of the bedroom so it wasn't long before you started wanting to stay in his arms a bit more after a good session

Connie never treated you any differently, but there were times when things just felt different

The moment you knew you had feelings for him was when he fucked you differently compared to your previous sessions

Sure he would blow your back out every now and then, but there were also more mellow times with him when you both were feeling lazy and needy

But THIS was a new experience. He fucked you slowly, but intensely. His hands were all over you but his touches were more gentle and soft. His kisses were a little bit sweeter and the caresses on your face lingered just a bit longer.

You snuggled into his chest a little more after that and you swore he held you a bit tighter, pulling your body just a bit closer to his. When you became aware of his heart beating under your ear, and found yourself being lulled to sleep by it, you knew you were fucked both literally and figuratively

Your feelings for him weighed you down more and more until you decided you were playing a dangerous game and you had to get out before you reached the point of no return

it sucked having to break things off with Connie but it was the first rule of any fwb relationship and you broke it more and more everyday.

As you sat up and rolled out of bed, ready to get dressed and leave, you felt Connie's arms come up behind you and rested his chin against your shoulder.

"Hey, why don't you stay the night?" he asked, placing a quick kiss on the junction between your neck and shoulder.

You exhale heavily, dreading what was coming next. You didn't plan on breaking it off so soon, but you knew staying the night would only be the wrong choice to make - for your sake and your heart's.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"C'mon, this isn't the first time you've stayed the night. Please?" You wanted to give in. You wanted to roll around, kiss his pretty face and spend the night in his arms. But knowing he didn't feel the same way as you did, knowing you'd leave with a heart that would break a little bit more if you stayed over, is what made you say no.

"It's not a good idea, Connie." you take a deep breath. "Actually, I think we aren't a good idea anymore."

You felt him withdraw his arms from your torso, the areas where he held you instantly feeling cold and empty. You hold on tighter to the sheets, partly to cover yourself up but mostly to keep you from breaking down in front of him.

"What?! Why not? Did I do something wrong? Was I too rough?"

Connie desperately racked his brain for what could have gone wrong from when you were saying his name like a prayer to now. He didn't want to mess it up with you, he really didn't. You slowly became someone he felt safe with. You became the one he wanted to see first thing in the morning, that's why he wanted you to stay over. He was falling for you, but he didn't want to admit it just yet. Maybe you caught on and didn't feel the same way? He knew he'd have to tell you eventually, but he wanted to be selfish a little bit longer. He wanted to enjoy what you guys had before going back to being just friends with no 'benefits'.

"I know we agreed to being just friends but I think I'm starting to feel something more than that and it's really stupid. But I don't think I can do this anymore without falling for you more than I already have." The tension in the air is palpable. In the time it takes for what you said to finally sink in Connie's mind, you decided his silence was his final answer.

When Connie saw your figure quietly get up from the edge of the bed, he knew this was his chance.

He quickly made his way over to your side, sitting on the edge. He reached out and gently wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Don't go, please." He whispered into the skin of your back.

You turn to look at him, keeping your tears at bay, trying to pry his arms off of you. God, with the way he was looking at you, that was almost all the convincing you need to stay just last night with him

"Connie, don't make this harder on me. You don't understa-"

"No, [y/n]" he cuts you off, now moving his hands to hold yours. "you don't understand." he delicately presses a kiss to your fingertips before kissing the back of your hand. "I want you. I want you to stay."

The meaning behind his words lit a spark in you that erupted into a passionate flame in your chest.

Connie wanted you. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

You cup his face, one of his hands coming up to rest over yours. You lean down and place the sweetest, softest kiss you can on his lips. It's not much but you hope he can feel all you've wanted to tell him in that one kiss.

"Okay, Connie, okay" you whisper as your lips pulled away from his own, a small smile forming when he whined at the loss of contact.

You committed the image of Connie Springer pouting at you because he wanted a kiss to your memory. You would tease him about it soon enough, you just wanted cherish the fact that he wanted kisses - your kisses.

You had more nights to share, more kisses to give him, but for now you just wanted to enjoy the feeling of having Connie in your arms, knowing you had each other as long as your hearts wanted.

You wanted to enjoy the feeling of Connie simply being there, finally being yours. He wasn't going anywhere, and neither were you.

"I'll stay."

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mendesbadrepuation · 3 years

Text

The Way You Comfort Me // Peter Parker🕷

Peter Parker x female reader

Description: Recently your best friends have grown apart from you and you have been really upset over the situation. Lucky for you Peter is there to comfort you.

Warnings: it’s a little sad in the beginning but the ending is overly fluffy and handsomely cute! Not even slightly proofread lolol

••••••••

“Hey! How come you look all down in the dumps today?” Peter breaks you from your thoughts as his hand waves in front of your face. You snap your eyes in his direction and you knew you could see the way he was concerned for you. You also knew he could see the way your eyes glossed over with tears.

“It’s not really important. We should get back to studying.” You reply quickly and avert your eyes back to the book on the table. You absentmindedly tapped the pen in your hand against the notebook you were using to take notes.

“No. It’s important to me. I don’t like to see you upset like this.” Peter reaches his hand out to gently stop the tapping of your pen. When you look up into his eyes they were soft and gentle. Just like everything about him. He was the purest soul to you and you got lucky he stumbled across your path. Even luckier he became your best friend and lover.

You and Peter were friends before. In high school you two were study partners a lot. You two really worked well together. One night you and Ned barged into his room on a rant about an assignment and you saw him in his Spider-Man suit. It was completely an accident and ever since then you knew about his secret. And ever since that day you have kept that special secret. You earned his trust very fast. Which led you to a relationship you never saw come but every day you are thankful for.

“Rachel and Addy didn’t invite me to go with them on the annual beach trip. They haven’t invited me to anything in the last couple of months. I think our friendship is ancient history.” You explain to him with a frown very evident on your face.

Rachel and Addy have been your best friends since middle school. You’ve known Addy since kindergarten even. You went through many stages of life with those girls and it was something that a lot of friendships went through. You grow up, you meet new people, you simply fade away. In your mind though, you thought it wouldn’t happen with those two. You cared for them dearly and that friendship. After several attempts of asking to hang out with them and they both decline every time you gave up.

At first you just let it go and thought it would fizzle out. You’d be back to normal within the next week. A week turned into a month. You were so busy with school that it never hit you until here recently. You were making your last stitch effort. Once you realized they were going on the beach trip without you, that’s how you knew it was over.

Peter looks at you sadly. “I know how much they mean to you. Maybe this was a sign and you never know. You all could pick right back up like nothing ever happened.” He tries to help with the situation.

“I don’t know Pete. I think we may be growing apart.” The words get choked up in your throat. It was hard to think and now even harder to say out loud.

He frowns at your response. “I think we’ve had enough studying for today. Let’s go back to my place and cuddle.” His hand lands on your thigh under the table in a comforting way. You look up into his eyes slowly nodding in agreement.

“I don’t want to worry May though.” You say.

He shakes his head. “Not to worry. Her and Happy are on an overnight trip. It will be just us.”

You lightly scoff. “Happy and May are getting closer.”

“Yeah! Yeah! Don’t remind me!” Peter shuts his eyes shaking his head in denial. “I don’t like to think about it.”

You two pack up your things and walk out of the university library holding hands. As you walked through campus you tried not to think about the issue playing repeat in your head. Every time you thought about losing your best friends you felt that ache in your heart. Losing friends is hard and it’s a different kind of loss you are never prepared for.

“The leaves are starting to change. It’s so pretty.” You say and your eyes wonder around the trees on campus. You wanted to think about other things.

“Pretty like you.” Peter cheekily replies. You instantly blush and playfully roll your eyes.

“Thank you.” You reply. Peter was smirking at you from your reaction. He loved seeing you blush from something he does or says to you. Just let’s him know he has that affect on you.

The walk to the subway was mostly just you two talking about anything but your situation. He knew that you would fully talk about it when you were ready. The rest of the way to his apartment Peter done his best to cheer you up. He would tell you corny jokes or do playful little things to keep a smile on your face. He was simply your person. Only he knew how to make you feel better in times like this.

Shortly after arriving to his place you got into his clothes. A pair of his sweats and his hoodie. Immediately you were feeling more comforted being wrapped up in his scent. He saw the way your expressions become more calm. His heart swelled seeing how much peace it brought you. He was your safe haven as you were his.

He picks you up and places you in his lap so he can cuddle you. You had the hood up over your head and he lets you nuzzle your head between his neck. He was extra warm from those added super powers running through his bloodstream. It truly came in handy on days like these. When you contently sigh into his neck it felt like his heart was smiling.

“As much as this sucks. I’m glad I have you.” You mumble in a soft tone.

“You always have me.” He whispers back. His hand that was wrapped around your back softly rubbed your worries away. You place a delicate kiss on his neck and he simply thought he was going to melt. He hated you being sad but boy was he grateful he got to be the one to comfort you, to hold you.

The rest of the night was spent with you in his arms. He would switch with rubbing your back to playing with your hair and even little kisses all over your face. Anything he could do to make you feel better, he did it. Eventually you talked through it with a little advice from him. It was hard coming to the realization of what was happening. He knew how strong you were and that you would get through this little milestone with ease.

You fell asleep with your head resting on his chest so you could hear his heartbeat. One of the many things you like to do when you’re with him. Peter had an idea to make you feel even better in the morning. He hoped it would help you start your day with a smile. When the weather was changing and the mornings were colder there was something about the sunrises. They were different. There was always brighter pinks and oranges on display. Peter remembers how you love to watch them.

He woke up right on time to carry you out on his fire escape. You were really tired from the crying and overall stress the situation caused. Him moving around didn’t really phase you until you felt the cold morning air hit your face.

“Mmm Peter what are you doing?” You faintly mumble and there was sleep evident in the sound of your voice.

“I want to show you something. Just keep your eyes closed for me.” He requests and you do as told. He places your arms around his neck and your feet around his waist. Your head nestles its way in the crook of his neck and you start to fall back to sleep. There was a gush of wind on your back in a split second. You knew he was swinging on his webs high in the sky. It was better you didn’t open your eyes for sure now.

You tighten your grip around his neck from the feeling of flying freely through the city. Most of the time you got sick from him swinging you with him on special dates on skyscrapers. Some times were better than others and you were trying to get comfortable with it.

Once the breeze stopped you knew he had landed. Still half asleep you just cuddle more in to him. He sits down with you in his lap again. Your one leg comes around from his waist so you can sit sideways. He was basically cradling you now and you could not complain.

“Open your eyes.” He whispers. You do as told and you have to blink a couple times to adjust. When you looked out into the skyline your breath was stolen away. There was so many vibrant pinks and oranges casting off the clouds. The sun was almost this red and dark orangish tint.

Peter didn’t look away from you. He wanted to see your reaction of the display in front of you two. His eyes glistened from the way you lit up. He watched your eyes sparkle at the view and he swore he has never seen anything as beautiful as you. As cheesy as it was, you were his sunrise in this moment. He gently kisses your cheek and adjusts your body so you could get closer to him.

“It’s beautiful Pete. Thank you for bringing me to see it.” You look away from the skyline and he was already looking at you. Your cheeks were red from both the morning air and from where he just kissed you.

“I just wanted you to feel better and start your day with this in mind.” He gestures to the sunrise and you didn’t care about that anymore. You were too in love with this boy to even think straight. He does everything in his power to make sure you are happy and safe and most of all, loved.

“I don’t need sunsets or sunrises when I have you. You are the sweetest person I know Peter Parker. Thank you for all you do for me. I hope one day I can return the favor.” You gently cup his face with your hands to fully look him in the eyes. He had the softest look on his face.

“You return the favor everyday by being with me and loving me. That’s all I can ever ask for. And baby your love is like a drug.” His soft expression turns into a little grin. He knew the comment was cheesy but you of course admired it.

A light giggle leaves your mouth and a wide smile spreads from ear to ear practically. For a moment you look into his eyes and see that special little tint in his brown shade. With the sunrise casting a little light it made a golden ring around his iris pop. You watch him avert his eyes down to your lips giving you the hint. Both of you lean closer together until your lips clash together in a soft kiss. Your hands go around to the nape of his neck where his little baby hairs were. In an effort to deepen the kiss you comb your fingers up through his full hair. You slightly tug at the base and he inhaled deeply making the kiss harder. His hands wrap around to your back and he pushes you against his chest. The action makes your lips slightly part and give him the access he wanted to slide his tongue inside your mouth. You both start to see stars from such a passionate kiss. Every time it would feel like this to the both of you. But each time it got better it seemed.

That’s how you knew he was your person until the end of time. In every timeline you would choose him. Over and over again. Your souls were intertwined and would always find a way back to each other.

#peter parker #peter #Peter Parker fanfiction #marvel #tom holland #peter x reader #peter x you #fluff #spideyboy #spiderman

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sheabuttahwrites · 3 years

Text

Chills ( a Yahya drabble? )

- -

“What you need me to do for you?”

That question changed the trajectory of my whole night. Before it, I wasn't sure if I would continue, but now another confirmation wouldn't be necessary. I licked my lips, preparing to answer him, but words evaded me. I barely knew this guy. This was only our second date. In fact, I should've been home by now. I still couldn't fathom how he’d even gotten me to agree to come back to his place to begin with. But he radiated a type of charm and charisma that enthralled me like none I’d ever seen. He was dangerous. Now we were both sitting on his couch wearing far less clothing than we’d started with. And, surprisingly enough, I had been the one to kick off the foolishness. Maybe it was the face that had me all outside of my element. Yeah. Maybe, just maybe, it was the way that chiseled jaw was enveloped by that expensive chocolate. Or it could've been that pearly white, bewitching smile. Maybe even those lips. Ooh, and that body; sturdy and long, just the way I liked it. Yeah, it was all of that shit. Yahya was his name. And he was fine as hell.

“I know you need me to do something for you.”

I do.

“You can tell me, I don't scare easily.”

His rich, sugar-laced voice rolled right into my ear, thick and syrupy, slow and heavy. Deliberate. Even in his chosen tone, it still came through so smoothly, pleasantly unaffected by the low volume. Heightening the already salacious nature of the situation, as he spoke, his soft lips grazed faintly against my skin. Just enough to render my panties absolutely useless. I bit my lip, too titillated to use my own voice. Rather, I sighed frustratedly, giving him more of my neck to explore if he saw fit. I think he could sense the words trying to get out.

“Let me take some of the pressure off.”

Please.

“Put my hand where you want it to be.” He lifted the one that had been resting atop mine down on my denim-clad thigh, the one that had occasionally given my forearm affectionate strokes. The other remained pressed carnally against the flesh of my lower back, making their strength more than apparent. Everything about him was just so relentlessly attractive.

But I was apprehensive. My chest heaved as my eyes roamed the near silent living room, dimly lit by something playing quietly on Netflix. I’d never done anything like this, but I had no desire to be the girl who announced it, to only be taken lightly. I was grown anyway; there was nothing that said I couldn’t do exactly what I wanted. And, right now, I wanted him. So, I grabbed his offering and placed it against me, as close to my middle as I could manage.

“What you want me to do with it?”

“…Whatever you want,” I breathed longingly, my thighs squirming into the plushness of the navy suede cushions that cradled us.

“My favorite. You need me to open you up, huh?”

I nodded, clinging to his every filthy word as he unbuttoned my jeans in one shockingly swift motion. This man was about to ruin my life.

“How wide you need to be stretched, mama?” he asked, dragging the zipper effortlessly and letting the tip of his thumb rub delicately over my panties.

“As wide as you can take me. Make it hurt.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can.”

His lips lightly brushed my earlobe as he moved to adorn my neck with the softest kisses I’d ever felt. He was a tease. I gasped, losing control of the deep breath my lungs must've been craving. A sweet moan slipped past as I exhaled, unable to be wrangled. I was beginning to unravel while he’d seemed so composed the whole time.

“You gon’ let me fuck it up, or you want me to be gentle?”

“Fuck it up.”

“I’m a nasty nigga. Just in case you don't like surprises.” His voice and I were both dripping with electrifying lust. Had me geared up to risk it all. Who did he think he was? Reiterating his words, his tongue glided along the length of my neck, from my shoulder back up to my ear. Powerful chills shot through me, encasing my entire body. I shuddered.

“Slut me out,” I cried feebly, begging for the conversation to take on a more physical form. “I like it real nasty.”

He chuckled just slightly, amused. “I don't believe you.”

He was full of shit, but to be fair, I had allowed this scene to play out for the longest time without giving him so much as a touch. My free hand was behind him, pinned to the chair with inhibition. When I should've been jumping him as soon as he lost his hoodie. Maybe even sooner. My willingness was fully intact, but I honestly felt like I should've eased myself into this. This one was something different. Like I would be leaving here tonight without my soul. I took an intentionally slow breath, captivated by his delicious scent. He smelled of a criminally alluring cologne, catastrophic disruption, and a pile of broken hearts. Despite my notions, the combination wasn’t any less entrancing. I swear I was a glutton for punishment.

“If you for real, buss a move then.”

I had to do something. This was not the climax I’d had in mind. So, at the very end of my rope, I cupped my hand beneath his chin, squeezing his jaw as I guided his face to mine. What had gone unseen in his composure before became rampant in his kisses. He leaned closer, obliging me in the most generous and eager exchange. The gloves were off. Shedding my residual nerves, I crawled into his lap, ready to cash in on those nasty promises. His arms captured my waist and I draped mine around his neck, moaning audibly on his lips. Thoroughly convinced, he stood with me still in his arms, on the way to steal what was left of my sanity.

“Ain’t enough space in here for the shit I’m ‘bout to do to you.”

Shea Buttah Bakery Masterlist -taglist-

#yahya abdul mateen ii #yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction #yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #yahya fanfiction #black fanfiction #SheaButtahWrites

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

A Moment With You

James Potter x Reader

Summary: When you wander from the Spring Ball, you find yourself sharing a moment with James.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, kissing

The Great Hall was filled from corner to corner with the utmost of jovial and boisterous energy, alive with the excitement that comes with events such as this one. It was the first ever spring ball to be held at Hogwarts—the only other ball that had been save for the occasional Yule Ball. It was deemed to be a good addition to create for the students, a perfect way to end the school year as spring began to turn to summer slowly but surely.

It was beautiful, really, and you were in agreement that it’d been a rather nice way to finish your seventh year in a place that’d become your childhood. Hundreds upon hundreds of blossoming flowers had flourished brightly across the spacious room in just about every color you could imagine, perfuming the air with the sweetest of scents. There were a myriad of brightly colored dresses and said flowers tucked in one another’s hair by their dates, the dance floor having never been empty of students. Soft pink sparkles of light had even rained down from the enchanted ceiling in a wash of color, the small flecks dropping low enough to dust overtop people’s heads and shoulders.

It was all spectacularly and marvelous, something you wouldn’t have wanted to miss seeing if even for just a moment. And it was a sight to see your friends have so much fun, whether they took to dancing or when Sirius found himself tossing pieces of food at Remus across the small table. You’d had fun, you’d enjoyed yourself, but you found yourself wanting to break away from everything in favor of having a moment alone. So, you did just that.

You had since excused yourself and made your way through clusters of students to get to the large double doors, slipping away into the grand corridors. It felt as though you’d taken a breath of fresh air in that very moment, and the farther you’d walked from it the more distant and muffled the commotion began to be. It felt more comfortable to be in your own company.

The sun was just setting, it’s broken beams casting bright and orange through the latticed and arched windows, splaying warmly across the floor and illuminating every fleck of dust it could find. No matter how wondrous and enchanting that ceiling in the Great Hall always was, it always paled in comparison to the very sky at sunset. To the very colors it’s painted with, different each and every time it did so.

You hadn’t known how long you’d been gone, surely it must have been at least half an hour since you’d left the crowd in favor of being there, but you couldn’t be entirely sure. What you had known, however, was that you hadn’t been left by yourself for too long.

“So, this is where you’ve run off to?” James.

You turn around at the ever familiar voice, one belonging to a certain dark-haired boy that made your heart flutter more than you’d ever care to admit.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth then as he shrugs, his hands in his pockets as he walks closer to you. “Instinct?”

You laugh softly and shake your head, turning away before he could see the pink staining your cheeks under the light of the sun. It was true, though. It was always obvious to him when you’d been elsewhere, always noticeable when you’re not around. Well, it’s incredibly noticeable to him, at least. There’s never the same light when you’re not there, not the same radiance that always followed you around no matter what. It wasn’t that hard for him to figure out that it’s you he found himself searching for just about anywhere he’d been.

He’d found himself coming to the realization that he always seems to gravitate to where you are and where you will be. He’d follow you anywhere given the chance if it meant he could be with you, could be around you. It was a fact he hadn’t known what to do with at first, hadn’t entirely known what it meant to feel just so about someone. But after a few weeks had gone by, a few months, a year or two—he knew his fond feelings for you were more than just the silly crush he’d once believed it to be.

“And just why is it that you’ve followed me out here, James? You seemed to have been having the time of your life in there,” you say with a smile of your own, nodding in the direction of the Great Hall.

He finds himself scratching the back of his neck as his head lowers to look at his feet for a moment, his gaze soon flickering up to yours as the corner of his mouth quirks up in a grin. His hand falls back to his side then, his smile widening before he speaks up.

“Because I never got to ask you to dance,” he says, eyes sparkling and expression fond.

The tips of his fingers brushed over yours and the teasing grin on your face was one you found you couldn’t help even if you tried to, and he knew what was coming. He always did.

“Have you been dying to ask me this whole time?” There it was.

He rolled his eyes, enveloping your hand fully then and tugging you into his arms as your laughter rings out into the empty corridor, his soon to mingle with your own as the softest of blushes burns his cheeks. You were right, you were always right. But he fought against allowing you to know just that for the sake of his own embarrassment, instead lifting you off your feet and twirling you just to hear your laughter once more.

Your giddiness had yet to dissipate when he set you back down, his arm circling around your waist and his hand finding yours as his lingering giggles puff against your skin. He’d always had a way of making you feel happier than you’d ever felt, as if nothing else mattered, at least not even nearly as much as it did when you were with him. His mere presence was enough to put a smile on his face, whether it be his clumsy antics or the way he lit up any room he was in. James Potter was the one you always found yourself thinking of, even in that obscenely large room full of people.

He’d been the head turner of any event whenever he was in attendance—boisterous and free spirited, his mere habit of being the clumsiest person you’d ever known never failing to make you smile. You knew that to be true as you looked up at him, a curl of his hair dipping over his forehead. The setting sun danced over his skin, illuminating the sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. He couldn’t quite keep his rhythm in the dance he so longed to have with you if you kept looking at him like that.

“You missed it. Sirius had spilled his drink all over Lupin’s suit in an attempt to levitate it to him,” he starts, laughing as he recalls it. “He just might still be chasing Pad’s around as we speak.”

You chuckle at the thought, turning your head away to stave off the heat in your cheeks from the gaze of his that fell upon you. Those two had always been up to something, and you wouldn’t doubt it if they’d gotten themselves into trouble by that point. If James hadn’t been with you right now, you were quite sure he would be too.

“I’m betting Lily’s gone mad by now,” you say.

“Surely she must be,” he grins.

It was then as you shake your head and smile at his words that he finds himself resisting the urge to reach up and tuck your hair behind your ear. He felt as though the view just outside the grand window you danced in front of was no match for you. He doesn’t think anything could rival you for that matter. Not with the way the sun makes your hair glimmer and the way it makes it appear as though you’re simply glowing. Though he’s starting to believe that’s just how you are.

“You look beautiful,” he says before he can find it in him to stop himself, the words falling from his lips without pause.

Your gaze returns to him and his heart nearly skips a beat, your smile soft as your cheeks burn a soft scarlet. The butterflies in your stomach were rapidly becoming hard to ignore at that point, his expression mirroring yours as you brush the stray curl out away from his forehead.

“And you look quite dashing yourself.”

He chuckles, looking downwards as he squeezes your hand in his own softly. He too found himself hiding the crimson daring to tinge his cheeks, for you were just about the only person who could bring out such a thing. You were bouncing from thought to thought as you danced in his arms, trying not to make a fool of yourself in front of your best friend. The silence between you hadn’t made matters any better either, leaving you to focus on your proximity and the way he held your hand so tenderly.

It was becoming increasingly hard to think about anything other than him as of late. Each and every time you’d tried not to, it had only made things terribly worse, you’d only thought of him more than you had before. But you suppose that’s what happens when you fall for your best friend.

“You don’t have to stay with me, you know. You are the life of the party after all,” you say after a little while a stewing in your own silence, a teasing smile gracing your lips.

He grins then, wider than he has been the entirety of the time he’s been with you as he lifts your hand and twirls you once, quick to pull you close to him again.

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Y/n/n?” He quips, his brow raised playfully as he awaits your answer.

Another laugh leaves your lips then as you release his hand, pushing the glasses back up the bridge of his nose. You look at him then, smile soft as your gaze meets his, and you bite the inside of your cheek in a pitiful attempt to conceal your emotions. Your heart had been fluttering, racing wildly in your chest at the closeness the two of you shared. You were mere inches apart as you swayed to music unheard, nose nearly brushing against yours.

“No, absolutely not,” you say then, your tone ever so indicative of your jesting.

His laughter fans across your lips at that, though it’s quick to die down just as quickly as it’d started once you meet gazes. In a matter of moments your foreheads rest on one another, your dancing having since become distracted in favor of focusing on just how close you’d been to each other. Just how you looked at each other. It hadn’t helped with the way the very tips of your fingers had brushed over his cheek before you’d wrapped your arms around his neck.

He already knew that this moment was far better than any second he’d spent within the Great Hall. He felt as though he might burst if his feelings boil over any more than they had been, and little did he know you felt the same.

It was then that you leaned on your very tip-toes and he dipped his head down, his lips brushing over yours in the softest of kisses. A kiss that’d let loose another round of butterflies to wreak havoc within you. There was a fleeting moment between that and the next, one taken just to smile at each other, noses scrunched and cheeks flushed.

“I love you,” he murmurs softly, eyes fluttered closed as he nods against you. “I’m in love with you.”

You pull back to look at him, your expression beaming and bright as he looks down at you.

“You’re in love with me?” You hadn’t meant to sound quite so surprised at his words, the flicker of nervousness having flashed across his face being something that made you stifle your own laughter. But he quickly hid it as he nodded once more, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Once you could find it in you to gather your words, to break from your daze, you murmur, “I love you.”

You were near breathless when the words fell past your lips, his smile bright as he kissed you once more. It was a mere few seconds before he parted from you, having found himself peppering his affections across your cheek as he spun you in his arms, your laughter sounding at the suddenness. His embrace was tight as he kissed you again, the giddy action having you stumble back a step or two in his arms as your giggling had yet to stop. His hand settled on your cheek, gentle and warm as he kissed your nose, his breath splaying over your lips.

It was then, in the empty corridor within the remaining glow of the sun, that a moment with you is far better than a million with just anyone else.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @ch0colatefr0gs @vogueweasley @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime

#james potter #james potter one shot #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter imagine #james potter fanfiction #james potter fic

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

We Can Stay Like This Forever

Word Count: 2,385 Warnings: Uh... yearning. A crumb of smut. Dialogue heavy bullshit tbh. Author's Note: God okay, I've been sitting on this for like a month now? I wrote this when I couldn't focus on my own characters anymore and my brain needed to visualize parts of the scene I was trying to write using the body language of a character I already know and love so well. This is written in second person but the reader has a name. It was an experiment dashed out in a drunken fervor that made my editor weep. Anyway, if you see any of these lines in a book one day... no you don't.

MASTERLIST

“Javi, I haven’t loved you since I was twent—“

“That's bullshit and you know it,” he interrupts, voice coming out hard but arms crossed tighter than they have been all night, replacing the pressure of kevlar he’s so used to. Protective, defensive, stopping the bullets from reaching him where it matters the most.

Your lips are raw from dragging your teeth across them but biting down is the only thing that stops the tears from springing to the surface. You never thought you’d see him again, you never thought he’d be standing in your kitchen only strides away; two for him, four for you. You saw the news coming out of Colombia, heard it in the supermarket passed from ear to ear straight from his dad’s mouth. Javier Peña was the walking dead.

Javi left Lorraine for you. You gave him a choice and he made it and you, being certain he’d lean the other way, couldn’t live with that guilt. When you wrote that first letter, you didn’t expect a response. You just wanted to apologize, you wanted him to know that you were sorry. You didn’t expect to hear his voice on the other end weeks later when you picked up the phone. Hell, you had pushed the letter so far out of your mind that you’d forgotten you’d included your number.

And now he’s standing in front of you, tangible as ever. No longer just the boy you loved but a man aged so roughly by sun and stress that you are breaking within wishing that you had been there to smooth it all over.

“Goddamn it, Clara,” that hard tone reaches towards you again but he loosens his stance, the toned arms still holding close to his body but the tension bottoming out to his exhaustion, “are you going to say anything or are you going to just keep looking at me like I’m a fucking ghost?”

“Is that not what you are?” Your voice is broken when you find it again, the tears really do come now. “A ghost from my past come back to haunt my bad decisions? Tell me I fucked up?”

“Is that what you think I’m here for? Is that why you think I came to you first thing instead of my family?” He exhales a breath you didn’t realize he was holding and drags a hand through his hair, pinning you in place with his eyes. “Can I smoke in here?”

“I thought you quit.”

“Yeah well,” another exhale, the slightest hint of laughter on his lips, “I thought a lot of things I’ve been wrong about too.”

And god, those eyes. Simultaneously the warmest, softest brown but so black they look like blown out pupils. Like he’s the one who’s been snorting the cocaine, not busting those that do. You don’t even register the insult before nodding your head. What’s a little cigarette smoke when you run the risk of him walking out that door and not coming back?

But isn’t that what you want? Isn’t that the purpose of this conversation? Are you not being the same bitch you were all those years ago praying that he’ll be the one to walk out on you this time? Bringing it back full circle to that decision you forced on him half a lifetime ago?

“Yeah?” He doesn’t sound sure and even though your eyes are anywhere but on his now, you haven’t felt his leave you this whole time.

“Yeah,” you whisper to your feet like they’re the most interesting goddamn thing in the world.

After years of practice, he’s quick about it, you don’t even realize he’s lit up until he lets go of that first puff and, with it, the entire room changes. It’s not angry, it’s not hard, it’s… twenty years of heartache and longing compounding, neither party believing they’re good enough for the other.

You look back at the tired man standing in front of you, “Javier, I—“

“No. No, let me talk,” he rubs his eyes with his free hand, drags it down his golden cheek and smirks. Another inhale and, “I didn’t come here to tell you that you fucked up, you’ve said it plenty. We’ve been talking for months, we fell back in stride like nothing ever happened, like I hadn’t spent years pretending every woman I fucked was you because it was like you’d never left my side. Almost twenty-five hundred miles, Clara, I was a world away from you and when I came home at the end of the day the last six months…” he’s the one biting his lip now, “I could call you no matter the time and the sound of your voice made me feel like a normal person. Like I still had a shot at this world beyond the bounty on my head.”

His exhaustion, his softness, is palpable now as he stops to suck in a breath like he hasn’t taken one this whole time and then…

“If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t have written. If you didn’t love me, you would’ve hung up. If you didn’t love me, you wouldn’t answer the phone at one o’clock in the fucking morning to tell me to breathe through the anger and the sadness and the horror I witnessed. But if that’s the story you want to stick with, I’ll go. I don’t expect anything I just…” his voice hitches, the cigarette long forgotten between his fingers, “I just wanted to see if your face still lights up when you laugh or if that had changed after two decades. It hasn’t and it’s still both my favorite sight and sound in the world. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder to watch it grow through the years.”

He looks to the right of him and throws the cigarette in the sink. Pushing off the counter with his other hand, he takes one step forward and fixes his eyes on yours again. “Tell me I’m wrong, Clara. Tell me you don’t love me and I won’t ever darken your home aga—“

“I love you.”

And he’s on you. Just like that. Just one more step to close the distance and his body presses to yours. His large hands come up to cradle your jaw and his nose slots perfectly into place against yours and his lips touch down like a plane with faulty landing gear, crashing against yours all hot breath and stale tobacco and, oh god, the smell of him. Soap and sweat, the chemical make up of his scent flooding your senses to make you feel whole again when you didn’t even know how much you missed it.

His hands are sliding down gently, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. With his strong arms lifting you away from the counter, you no longer need to support yourself against it and you’re grabbing for him, trying harder to wring the space from between you like a worn rag but nothing is left.

The feel of him is something new, however. He’s not that scrawny kid who awkwardly held you to him, unsure of how his touches were affecting your body and pleasure. No, this Javier is different. Older, experienced, more tender than you remember him ever being, so sure of himself and just… thicker. Two shirt sizes up from the man you walked away from, his formerly wiry muscles are almost bubble wrapped in a way. What used to knot against you in hard planes of flesh and bone now give quietly against your touch as you’re pulling at the only thing that separates you now.

But suddenly, he’s breaking away. All heavy breaths and wildly flushed cheeks, his lips have left yours and the ache you numbed in his absence returns like a migraine after sleep. You need him and he’s gone again and you’re chasing his kiss with a whine as he replaces his lips with a thumb, cradling your face once more and shushing you, “Cálmate, mi amor. Está bien. Are we moving too fast right now?”

And you are breathless as you answer, “We are not moving fast enough, Javier.”

“I just don’t want you to think that this is all that I want. That you will wake to find an empty bed tomorrow.”

“If I woke to find an empty bed tomorrow, that’s exactly what I’d deserve.”

Those eyebrows knit up in confusion, the lines that have made their home on his forehead making you simultaneously weak in their beauty as evidence of his life and sad in the tragedy that you weren’t there to watch him earn them.

“Clarita,” his tone is so soft, the endearment coming to him as naturally now as it did in the before, “If it’s punishment you think you deserve then I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. I chose you, you didn’t beg for it. I did that of my own accord. And when you chose to walk away because you felt guilty, I did beg you. I’ll own it, I begged and pined but you couldn’t get out of your own head long enough to see that you were never the issue, you were the solution. You still are. I have searched for you in everybody I’ve ever met. So tell me,” his hands are wrapping around your arms now, “Are you ready to forgive yourself and find me in your bed tomorrow morning?”

“Yes,” comes barely audible through parted lips as his find yours once more, knocking the breath from your chest as his hands slide down to your hips. He digs his fingers into the denim there and slowly starts to guide you through the home that’s not his thinking, correctly, that the only door at the end of the hallway is the destination he really booked from Bogotá.

And he is burning a hole through you, his entire being set on fire against you in the already blazing Texas heat. He is gentle as he pushes you down, climbing on top with one arm out to break both your falls. His shirt was abandoned somewhere in the kitchen, shoes kicked off in the hallway with your shorts not far behind. His belt buckle is riding against you as he rocks his hips down, forgetting the metal between you in his hunger for you to feel him.

He feels you wince, the whine swallowed between his lips but he’s pulling back like he’s electrocuted you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” your hands are shaking as you take advantage of the space between, “just take your pants off.”

He hits you with that crooked smile and meets your hands where they’re still trembling at his hips and, god, he’s swift. He wastes no time kicking off his jeans and falling back into you, pressing back into you. You can feel him straining against his briefs but his patience is unmatched as he savors every taste of your mouth, every nip at the warm skin of your neck and chest. His hands are exploring the years that have marked your body as you mentally catalogue the scars that have taken over his.

He’s pushed your shirt up as far as it will go without leaving you but when he finally does to lift it away, the separation is so quick that it feels like nothing. He’s everywhere and you’re delirious, half thinking you’re imagining him moaning into you as he takes your hand in his to put it where he wants it.

You almost think…but, no, that’s not how that works. Your brain is fucking with you, unable to reconcile the man on top of you with the memory of the boy you loved once upon a time. But you swear, he’s bigger. He holds his breath as your hand slides between him and his waistband and he’s looking down at you like he’s never been touched at all. The sadness showcased across the softness of his face is made worse by the sheen of sweat and blush across his nose. You’d almost believe it if you couldn’t feel the heartbeat in his hardness, waiting for you to make the next move.

After two beats of aching silence, looking up into the galaxies he has the audacity to call eyes, your other hand moves to push at his waistband. If you thought he was urgent before, the graceful rush to join your efforts is gold medal worthy. Your senses are delayed, you’re not sure if the sound of fabric hitting the ground comes before or after he’s ripping at the only bit of fabric that separates you now.

“Fuck,” he rests his forehead to yours, “I'll buy you another pair.” The confusion bubbles into laughter as you realize that, yes, he actually tore them from your body.

But the bubbling laughter in your throat squeezes into a tight gasp, the air punched from your lungs as he steadies himself against you. His long fingers are brushing your hair to the side as he leans down and whispers against your lips, “Can I?”

“Please,” but your begging is lost in his response before the word has fully left your lips. He is grabbing in a way you haven’t felt in years. Hungry, like he can’t get enough, like it’s all he needs.

It is devastating, the build up. He’s ripping through the deepest parts of you and you’re convinced, wholeheartedly, that the only truth you’ve ever known rides on the waves of his name. His grip tightens, his teeth dragging down your jawline and warmth takes over as an earthquake shatters what little composure you’ve kept.

He moans low in his throat once.

Twice.

Three times it dies out against your ear like it’s only meant for you. Like it was all only meant for you.

He’s smiling as he softens, you can hear it in his voice as he slowly asks, “Can we just stay like this for a minute?”

You press your lips to that dimple, singular and lonely on the right side of his face; so far gone from a five o’clock shadow, you’d almost think he’s been forty all his life.

“Javier,” your fingers wind tighter through the sweat slick curls at the crown of his head, “we can stay like this forever.”

#narcos #fanfic #fanfiction #javier pena #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal

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fandoms-galore-yall · 3 years

Text

MatachaBlossom as Gods Au pt 2

Greetings! This fic is based off the wonderful art of @shaky-mayhemm (Check it out here!)

This is pt 2, pt 1 is here

________

The plan, while requiring a lot of preparation, was fairly simple. Kojiro would pretend to be drunk and distract Ainosuke and Tadashi. Carla, in her invisible form, would gently guide Miya to a secluded area and Kaoru would talk to the boy.

Since discovering Ainosuke’s intentions, Karou had been sending Carla to the boy’s town to get an idea of why he had caught the God of Destruction’s attention and how to help him get away.

Karou hated to admit it, but he had felt uneasy every time she left his immediate area. Like a part of him was being cleaved. He had gotten used to always having Carla, if no one else, by his side.

While he didn’t say anything to Kojiro, the God of Earth hadn’t made any trips to Earth during the last few months before the festival and had spent every night that Carla was gone, with him, holding him and comforting him.

It had been the only way Karou could sleep without Carla’s singing.

He would be glad when this would be over, for many reasons.

Though he supposed that having Kojiro’s voice lure him to slumber hadn’t been the worst thing.

Still, he was worried about the plan. The thought of Ainosuke or Tadashi catching Carla in the act and then harming her terrified him.

Furthermore, while he knew that Kojiro could take care of himself, he didn’t want him to get hurt ethier. Ainosuke couldn’t do anything to him physically during the festival but words can still cut even a God down.

And perhaps, his biggest fear, was that he would fail in his role.

Ironically, despite being the God of Life, Karou was not the most comforting of Gods.

Oh, he could play the part for a crowd of humans- a pretty shiny beautiful thing for them to admire from afar, never really seeing the truth behind the gentle smiles he wore as a mask.

But when faced with genuine feelings?

Helping people with their emotional state?

Well, his best was leading the person in distress to Kojiro and having the other God fix the problem.

His worst was patting their shoulder, from a short distance away, and trying to make comforting sounds whenever Kojiro wasn’t available.

Karou is big enough to admit that dealing with feelings isn’t his strong suit.

Which is why he thinks it ludicrous that Kojiro had insisted it be him to talk to the young boy, Miya.

Karou assumes it has more to do with Kojiro’s determination to keep his lover as far away from Ainosuke as possible than it is his faith in Karous's ability to handle the situation if Miya were to start crying.

Karou sighed as Carla faded from his side, seemingly disappearing into the air around her. Karou could still sense her presence but no one else would be able to unless she meant for them to.

As she got into position near Miya, Kojiro began to ‘drink’ heavily.

Karou made his way to the gardens on the lower level of the grand palace made for the Gods when they weren’t in the Heavens.

Carla began to gently pull at Miya’s sleeve to subtly lead him there as well.

During Carla’s trips to Miya’s home town, she had learned that the boy loved animals which is why the God had borrowed one of the minor Gods Oka’s pet fox Sketchy for this conversion.

He hoped that it would help distract the boy from any awkwardness that might come from having this conversation.

Karou heard the boy enter and took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

Miya took one look at who stood before him and breathed out, perhaps with relief? With wide eyes the boy stepped forward without fear.

“I thought you were going to be Lord Ainosuke”.

“Ah, so then he’s spoken to you about his intentions directly?”

“He has, Lord Karou.”

Karou wrinkled his nose. He normally didn’t react when humans used honorifics but for some reason, it bothered him, when this boy said it with no emotion whatsoever, face now blank.

Karou hummed at his admission and then gestured for the boy to follow him. He did.

Karou sat on a patch of grass, near a fountain, and placed Sketchy down on the grass for Miya to see. Previously hidden, bundled in a cloth, the boy lit up at seeing the fox before seeming to remember himself and schooling his features.

“You may sit and pet him, if you are gentle with him.” Karou told him and Miya quickly walked over, sat, and began petting the fox.

“You’re an intelligent boy,” Karou began, “I’m sure you know how most of Ainosuke’s disciples do not find their story to have a pleasant end?”

Miya’s shoulders were hunched in and his face hidden when he answered, “I do.”

“And you’re still interested in being his disciple?”

“He said he’d grant me my wish.”

Karou hummed again, lost in thought.

One of the reasons Ainosuke continued to get disciples, despite his reputation, was that he would grant wishes that no one else would.

Of course, it was rarely worth a year stuck under his thumb, but often greed or desperation blinded them to the warning signs.

“I might be wrong, but I’m assuming your wish involves the boys who your parents think you’re with when you're not studying or practicing your future craft that you actually seem to avoid as much as possible?

Miya’s head shot up and he couldn’t mask the look of surprise on his face, “How...?”

“I’m no God of Knowledge or Wisdom but I am a Higher God. There is not much that mortals can hide from me.”

Miya narrowed his eyes, perhaps in suspicion but then caught himself and smoothed out his expression once more.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“How so?”

Miya sighed. “I thought you already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” The God said as gently as he knew how. “I need you to fill in the final pieces.”

“They… We… They were my friends and then my parents started pushing me to be ‘perfect’ and so I was and they hated it and then they hated me… I just want my friends back…. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Miya seemed surprised by his own honesty and his eyes started to tear up.

Karou silently cursed Kojiro and turned away to get control of himself.

“Ainosuke won’t make the loneliness go away, not really.” Karou said in his softest tone. “He’ll spend the year breaking you down, then he’ll grant your wish, but he’ll do so in a way that is as twisted as him…”

Karou was silent for a moment as he thought about how Ainosuke would “solve” Miya’s problem and noticed how Miya refused to look his way when he turned to fully face the young boy.

“He’ll probably make it so that your old friends are like puppets, they’ll act like they love you but there will be no life behind their eyes. Which isn’t really what you want, is it?”

“No,” Miya whispered, trying to hold back tears. Karou hoped he was being kind by not pointing it out.

Miya buried his face in his hands and mumbled into them.

Karou raised an eyebrow with a gentle chide, “I’m not sure if I was supposed to understand that?”

Miya snuffed, raised his face just enough for his words to come out clear, “What do I do now?”

“Well, to not offer yourself as a disciple at all would be one option.”

“My parents want me to.”

“Even if it were with The God of Destruction?”

“No risk, no reward.”

Karou hummed again, “Another option would be to join my or Kojiro’s service instead.”

“The God of Earth?”

“Yes, he’s currently acting as a distraction so that we may have this conversation” Karou explained.

Miya nodded, “And yours? You haven't taken a disciple in over three decades?”

“That’s true, but I would be willing to make an exception for you”.

Miya seemed angry with his response. “I don’t need your pity.”

The God sighed, “I apologize. I phrased that incorrectly. It would not be pity. I don’t need any disciples but I’ve seen you as you work on your craft. You are a talented young man, I’d be glad to have you in my service...

“Though, perhaps you would prefer Kojiro’s service instead? He tends to be better with” Karou waved his hand around, “people.”

Miya giggled but tried to pretend he hadn’t when Karou glanced over. The God of Life gave him a small smile to let him know it was alright.

“But most of all, whoever’s service you enter, our main concern is your safety. Even if you decide to serve Ainosuke you may come to us at any point, for help”.

Miya nodded, listening but clearly getting lost in his own thoughts.

Karou stood, “The ceremony will begin soon.” Miya stood as well, and handed Sketchy over.

Karou plucked a flower, from a nearby tree, and placed it in Miya’s hair.

The flower glowed for a moment, becoming a blessing from a God, “For safety and for luck.” Karou told Miya.

Miya stood shocked for a moment before bowing to the God and exiting the Garden, once again led by Carla.

Karou thought about the ceremony as he made his way to his throne. Each God had their own, where offerings were left and where any chosen disciples would go to after being taken into their God’s service.

There were a couple ways one could offer themselves as a disciple.

The first would be to offer themselves to any God. Any God interested would light a flame next to their throne, then if only one God had shown interest, the human would enter their service. If multiple had, either the human would choose which God to follow or sometime the other Gods would back down.

No God had ever fought over a disciple with Ainosuke before. If Miya opened himself up to any God’s service, he and Kijiro would be the first.

The second way was for the potential disciple to specifically offer their service to a select God or select few Gods. Then as before, if multiple of those Gods were interested the human would choose, unless any Gods backed down.

Karou assumed that Miya would use the first method, he just hoped that the boy would choose Kojiro’s or less likely, his own service.

He sat on his throne. Kojiro’s was right next to it.

The God of Earth looked over and Karou nodded, letting him know that the conversation had happened and that he thought it went well.

Kojiro gave him a smile, the one that said he was proud of Karou. Karou scoffed and looked away.

Kojiro’s response was to try and play footsie with him. Karou rolled his eyes, kicked at the other’s ankle, and ignored the other God’s pout.

Now really wasn’t the time.

Karou allowed himself to be distracted, knowing Carla would let him know when the boy was up.

Carla’s hand landed on his shoulder and he schooled his mind back into focus.

Miya was walking up and a Minor God was listing off his accomplishments.

After that, the Minor God was supposed to immediately explain if any God could express their interest or if they were only hoping to serve a specific God or Gods.

However, the Minor God frowned at the paper before him and Karou felt his heart sink.

Perhaps the conversation hadn’t gone well after all?

Kojiro took his hand and Karou held on tightly, allowing the other God to ground him.

“Miya Chinen offers his service to only one God…”

Karou stopped breathing and thought he might have heard Kojiro grunt from how hard he was holding onto the other’s hand but too much of his attention was on the Minor God speaking to truly notice.

“Karou, The God of Life”.

Karou let himself breathe again.

The God of Life shifted so that his hair covered his face so that no one could see his amused grin.

The boy was testing him, seeing if the God of Life was really in his corner.

Normally, that would annoy him but...

Karou waved his hand, igniting the flame next to him, to let everyone know he had accepted the boy’s service.

No risk, no reward indeed.

From his peripheral vision he saw Kojiro shake his hand and stretch his finger now that they were no longer in Karou’s death grip.

Miya, from the stage below them, bowed to him.

I’m having a lot of fun with this story, so I’ll be adding more!

Whatever Miya’s craft is I think will be the stand in for Skateboarding in this story.. which means I just have to figure out what his craft should be lol!

Hope you all enjoyed! :D

#matchablossom #sk8 the infinity #sk8 anime #karou sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #Ainosuke Shindo #Miya Chinen #Reki Kyan #Langa Hasegawa #Hiromi Higa #Tadashi Kikuchi #gods au

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ginanosakka · 3 years

Text

Passed Down Trauma

Masterlist

The War Has Begun | Next

“Why are you attempting to assassinate Eito L/N?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re lying, L/N. We found the notes in your home, we found the gun hidden in your car, and all of Japan has seen the video of you slandering your own father. Why did you do it?” Officer Yuikmara slammed his hands on the table in attempts to strike fear in you.

Without faltering, you said with a smile, “I can’t tell you what I didn’t do. . . but I can tell you that you have twenty four hours to let me go before it all gets fully released, Mr. Yuikmara.”

Katsuki and Kirishima stood in the living room of Katsuki’s apartment on what felt like pounds of questions and anxiety. Everything was going smoothly in the operation to protect Y/N and Ryu — now one was missing and the other was in police custody. The tension in the room was thick and despite Eijirou’s tendency to lighten situations, he made no move to ease his friend’s mind. In fact, deep down he wanted Katsuki to suffer for reasons that he knew were selfish and out of line. The unspoken feelings he had for a woman that he shouldn’t want were not hidden, and could not stay silent forever. Especially when that woman’s life was in danger and he couldn’t help but blame Bakugou.

“I’m going to burn that bastard’s house down, and Icy-Hot can put out the damn flames when I’m done.” Katsuki fumed as he paced the floor to try and calm down to think clearly. It was taking everything in him to follow the law and try to take Eito down the legal way, but with every minute he spent working on the case, he realized just how inbedded that man was in hero companies and the police force.

“That won’t get Y/N home, and you know it. What we need to do is wait for her to post bail and find Ryu, she’s probably worried about him.” Eijirou said, trying to find a way to solve all of this and think of what would help Ryu and Y/N.

Katsuki glared at Eiji, “you think you know everything? Y/N wasn’t even phased when we found out he was missing, you idiot!” Katsuki seethed at him.

“I know that Y/N loves her kid more than anything else, so maybe you were too busy being emotional to understand what she was feeling!” Kirishima bit back, not wavering under Katsuki’s harsh gaze.

“You’re just some sad, lovesick moron,” Katsuki taunted. “Why don’t you just admit the reason you don’t believe that she knows where Ryu is, is because you don’t want to believe that she’s hiding things? You think she trusts you so much that she’d tell you more than me? I can guarantee you that, like always, you’ll never be better than me.” Katsuki finished, both of them standing face to face with clenched fists and locked jaws.

The silence was loud like roaring beasts threatening the other to make the first move; two men who fell for the one they couldn’t fully get their arms around. Their friendship was equally as important to both of them, but how could one swallow their feelings for Y/N, simply for the sake of the other? Neither of them thought the other was worthy enough for such a beautiful tragedy you had written in your very bones. There was no personality, no smile, no heart that could compare to you. Even if they fought, the loser wouldn’t dare accept defeat.

A ringing phone broke through the silence, Katsuki’s pocket suddenly vibrating and taking his attention as he pulled it out. An unknown number was displayed across the screen, and in normal circumstances, he would have immediately sent it to voicemail with no hesitation or concern for who was on the other line. Today was anything but a normal circumstance.

“Hello,” he answered in a clipped tone.

“Mr. Bakugou, it’s Nanami. . I have important information I need to discuss with you.”

Rotting in a holding cell wasn’t how you wanted to spend your weekend, but it was better than being dead — you weren’t sure you wouldn’t be dead soon anyway, so you’re savoring just being in jail. You couldn’t even post bail, so you had to sit on the brick like bed and wait for everything to go through. Everything you built was currently being destroyed while you sat here calmly, waiting for the fire that is your father to be put out so you can remove the remains of his hold on your life and be free. . .

. . .Free to do what?

“L/N, you have a visitor, let’s go.” An officer interrupted your peace and opened the door of your cell, and you followed him without a word.

When you entered the small, dimly lit room, a woman sat there with such a crestfallen expression that you could barely recognize her. Her skin that was always flawless with minimal makeup was bare and her color suggested sickness. The gorgeous and bouncy hair that she did her best to maintain everyday was dull and clearly untouched. She looked like a mess, even in her bright flower patterned spring dress.

“Mom?” You said quietly, feeling a twinge of fear towards her when she was in such an unhinged state.

She looked up at you open hearing that word spill from your lips, and her expression brightened ever so slightly. It settled the fear and allowed you to fully fall into worry as you slipped into the chair in front of her — for the first time in years you offered her your hand for comfort. When her cold hand touched yours, you squeezed tightly in hopes of bringing her some warmth even in the cold room.

“I always knew you were secretly a momma’s girl,” were the first words out of her mouth along with an airy laugh. The joke was strange when it came from her, but for her sake you cracked a small smile. “I have a lot to tell you, Y/N.” She said in the softest tone you’d ever heard, grabbing every bit of your attention.

“You don’t have much time, so just say what you have to say.” You urged her, unsure of when you’d be able to speak to her again once she left this room. She had fallen off the Earth after that phone call, and you didn’t want her to leave you with questions.

Your mother began with a deep breath, “I’ve been married to your father for twenty five years. I did it for the money, never once thinking or caring about what he did and how he acted. . . until you were gone. I realized that he was. . different from other people. One day he was kind and compassionate, the next he was ruthless and cold, like a ticking time bomb that kept going off and shortening the time until it’s next reaction. It was easy to ignore at first, I just left him alone as I always did and made sure our interactions were kept completely secret. . Then he saw you on the news with that Bakugou boy-“

“You have five minuets left,” a man called on a speaker into the roo and you gestured for her to get to the point.

“What I’m trying to say is that there’s something wrong with him, Y/N. If you take him down by just destroying all his business and credibility I’m scared he’ll do something drastic that will hurt a lot of people.” Your mother said shakily, and the fear in her face was chilling you to the core, along with the fact that if you looked back you could tell that she was right.

‘What do I know about my grandparents on his side? I’ve never seen a baby picture from him, or even any picture of when he was young! What happened to him that drove him to become the controlling business man that would step on anyone in his way?’ You thought at a rapid speed, finding too many similarities between your reaction to trauma with how he always had acted. If not then more extreme.

“What am I supposed to do?” You whispered, your eyes falling to the cold metal table between you two.

“You have to talk to him,”’ your mother said. “I know you have a way of getting out of here, and when you do, go straight to him and tell no one. . You are his biggest failure in his eyes, and I know you’re the only one who can get through to him.” She squeezed your hand this time, assuring you that what she was saying was true.

“And what about you?” You asked. “Whether I destroy his business or get him the help he needs, you’re still going to lose everything.”

She smiled, “no. I just got everything I needed.”

A/N: We’re getting somewhere :P

Taglist (Closed) <3 : @fandomgirllover @cloudsgathering @that-bipolar-renegade-romantic @jazzylove @that-chick212 @bonbonthedragon @misssugarless @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @bakugous-bakahoe @pinkykookie17 @animexholic @arielting @samkysnks @simpforeveryone @damnirina @deneuves @tsumuuumiyaaaa @vintage-teddyxo @regalmigraine @samvmgh @iamagalaxy @officialtrashbusiness @xwackk @videogameboiwhowins @marajillana @ellasdilemma @plutoneu @saucey-kneecapzz42020 @thestarsanctuary @dewdropwifu @star-light-imagines @kritiiiii @bakugosbottombitch @the2ndl @candybabey @simply-not-the-same @sam-i-am-1025 @mes-bisous @eternallyvenus @peppytine @chaelysian @definitely-yours @oikawarc @suneaterofthebig3 @m0na-l0ver @nkb0048 @losertsukki @notyourfavorlte @caramelsquares @hikaru-mikazuki

#bakugou x reader #bnha bakugou #bnha #bakugo x reader #x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha angst #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha x reader #anime x reader #bnha kirishima #kirishima x reader #eijirou x reader #bnha eijirou

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moonbeamsung · 3 years

Text

Serendipitous Synergy

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

“What? Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee.”

member: haechan

au: dance partner and rival!haechan x gn!reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: angst, suggestive, fluff

warnings: talk of insecurities and thoughts of self-doubt, a house party, stubborn reader, smug haechan, mentions of ‘sexual tension’ in the context of a dance, kissing, slight innuendos

author’s note: As a dancer myself, this idea came to me after we learned the choreography for Thriller in class one day! And yes I know Halloween was weeks ago but shhh. It’s my first time writing an enemies to lovers au, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback about things I can improve on in the future. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

network tags: @neo-constellations

“...You’ll be partnered with Haechan.”

The words of your instructor seem to swallow up the dance studio you’re standing in, echoing off of the walls with a piercing sound that makes your ears ache, your gut twist, and your blood boil.

This could not be happening.

Said boy seems just as averse to the idea as you are, the corners of his mouth downturned in displeasure.

Your teacher, however, continues to rattle off the rest of the pairs, some of them a little surprising but none nearly as unexpected as the two of you being put together.

Eyes narrowed and gazes sharp as daggers, both you and Haechan turn to stare each other down.

The standoff makes everyone else in the studio uneasy, and though the other dancers aren’t unaccustomed to your endless rivalry, they fear the potential hostility of your reactions. But to their astonishment, it never escalates beyond these stinging glares directed at one another. You’re surprisingly professional about it on the outside, not letting a single swear word slip out from between your lips, while he bites back a snarky insult.

On the inside, though, you’re a mess.

Haechan has been somewhat of an enemy of yours for as long as you can remember, though by no fault of his own. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, ever since you were both young students struggling to find your footing in the artistic world, he’s always been better than you. At everything.

If you managed to nail a double pirouette, he’d step right up and do a third like it was nothing. You finally got your split? He’s already had it for a month, at least. It just wasn’t fair. You both had started dancing at the same age, at the same time, with the same amount of experience: zero.

In all honesty, Haechan had done nothing wrong. The combination of poor timing and better luck had worked against him all those years ago to brew these bitter feelings inside of your heart, rising to the surface whenever you would set foot inside the familiar studio.

These constant sentiments of inferiority took their toll on you, making you fear being compared to him above anything else. It was childish, but you couldn’t stand to be reminded of feeling completely and utterly incompetent next to him. Whenever you performed, you were grateful for the large amount of other dancers occupying the stage, leaving little opportunity for the two of you to be noticed in conjunction with one another.

Now that it’s going to be just the two of you under the bright beams of light cascading down from the rafters, dancing in close proximity, this worry is at the forefront of your mind.

You would do anything to be able to go back to your first year at the studio, when you were young enough to recognize that his skills seemed to outweigh yours, but as a carefree child you remained largely unbothered by this fact. As you got older, it was like a switch inside of you flipped and made you extra aware of each and every thing that you did. Perhaps it was the heightened self-consciousness that puberty brought combined with the already stressful lifestyle of a dancer, but something changed one day, and it was all you could think about when you saw him.

Your internal doubts always translated into being eerily quiet during practice, asking a question to clarify the movements only when it was absolutely necessary. Even your teacher noticed a shift in how you danced. Your gestures and steps lacked their usual precision, and all the confidence you had built up for so long vanished into thin air.

Not sure how to interpret your sudden silence, Haechan took it upon himself to get a word out of you in whatever way that he could, with comments and jokes and even the occasional compliment on your technique. It hardly helped, though. In fact, your constant failure to respond to his attempts created a sort of resentment in him as well, one not generated by envy or insecurity, but simply by confusion and frustration.

During practice one afternoon, you had become so fed up with him trying to talk to you that you lashed out, pushing him away with surprising strength. “Just leave me alone!” You had shouted at Haechan, but you instantly regretted it when you saw the way his eyes welled up with shiny tears, full of hurt after his genuinely good intentions had been totally rejected by their unwilling recipient. Your guilt, however, failed to overpower your stubbornness.

This sent Haechan into his own spiral of the silent treatment before he started to channel his feelings into a similar bitterness. From that day forth, you each became the other’s arch-enemy, challenging one another in any way that you possibly could inside the studio and on the stage. Your instructor, choreographers, and fellow students quickly became tired of the implicit competition that always existed between you, but what on earth could they do to stop it?

At the present moment, they’re contemplating this exact idea, along with just why your teacher thought pairing you with each other would be a good idea. She had done it with the intention of putting a long overdue partnership into action and hopefully eliminating your immature rivalry. Selfishly, she’s also very eager to see how your mutual contempt translates into movement, inwardly predicting that the tension levels will be off the charts.

Not long after, you’re dismissed from practice for the day, but not without a warning look from Haechan. Against your better judgment, you join him by the doorway once everyone else has filed out of the studio.

He clearly called you over for a reason, but you cut him off without even waiting for him to speak.

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you, of all people, as a dance partner.”

Oh, so this is how you’re acting? Two can play at that game.

“What?” He snickers, “Scared I’ll steal the spotlight?”

“In your dreams, Lee,” you scoff, already tired of his taunting attitude.

“Anyway,” his voice is stern before doing a complete 180, now a bit more gentle, “If we’re going to be dancing together for the next few weeks, we might as well be on speaking terms, don’t you think?” The expression Haechan wears on his face is the softest you’ve seen it in a long time, which is definitely saying something.

“I suppose.” Answer short and tone abrasive, you huff a lousy excuse for a goodbye before marching out and into the hallway, but he’s faster than you. You spin around to shrug off his hand from your shoulder, and it gives him the chance to tell you one last thing.

“Look, if you’re going to be like that, it’s not going to make working together any easier. We’re not little kids anymore. You can go back to hating me once this is all over, but can we at least try to put our differences aside and just cooperate for once?”

You nearly split your lip as you bite down on it, holding back a burst of aggravation at the situation you’ve been put in. “Fine.”

You have no idea how you’re going to get through all the practices and all the shows while simultaneously dealing with the boy, but one thing’s for sure: you’re going to prove that you are just as skilled, and just as talented a dancer as he is.

The next time you see him is two days later, at your first rehearsal for this dance. Your studio has always had a Halloween-themed showcase, but it wasn’t until this year that you were old enough to finally be cast in a more exclusive number. The fact that you’re no longer a part of the large group routine, always performed to the same upbeat tune and with the same easy steps, is one of the few silver linings that your duet with Haechan presents.

Faces lined with fatigue and eyes still heavy with sleep, you both arrive at the studio in the morning, duffel bags in hand, the comfy slides on your feet dragging across the hallway carpet with every step. Loud music blares from inside the room, brightly lit despite the early hour. Beside you, Haechan instantly recognizes the tune to be Michael Jackson’s Thriller, and perks up a little at the sound. Too tired to poke fun at his near obsession with the singer, you let his little celebration of the choreographer’s song choice slide.

It’s not your usual instructor that’s going to be teaching you the movements to go along with the piece, which means you have the added challenge of adapting to a different set of preferences, expectations, and choreographing style.

It’s certainly a dance that’s unlike any you’ve ever learned before.

The rehearsal starts off well, and both of you quickly catch on to the basic steps that are somewhat like those of a waltz, except they have a more sinister feel to them in order to match the spooky time of year. Facing each other but standing on opposite sides of the room, you step forward, to the side, to the back and then to the side again. On each accented beat you throw your heads back sharply, mimicking the way the neck of an inhuman creature might snap under any sort of force.

In the next section of choreography, your gazes are supposed to meet once you tilt your heads downward, slowly this time, but it’s difficult to maintain eye contact with Haechan for more than a few seconds. Maybe it’s the way he doesn’t even hesitate to stalk towards you in this part of the dance, which calls for you to circle each other like a hungry predator and its timid prey. Maybe it’s the animalistic glint in his irises that throws off your balance and makes you stumble when you see it. Or maybe it’s the fact that your rivalry with him has been entirely disregarded at the moment, brain focused solely on absorbing all of the new information and ingraining the movements into your muscle memory, nothing else.

What frightens you even more than the things that go bump in the night is that all those years you spent... well, not hating, but strongly disliking him could go to waste. It usually takes a lot of time for you to get over things like this, and in a way, you feel like you would be disappointing yourself if you let all of the agonizing feelings of self-doubt go, just like that.

These thoughts swirl around in your mind as you listen to the choreographer’s next words.

“Okay, put your hand here.”

“Like this?”

“Yes, now you’re going to drag it across him, from there to there,” she directs you with a finger, “And then he’s going to pick you up in a scissor lift.”

You’ve never done one of those before, but with some helpful guidance, you begin to have a small bit of faith in yourself that you’re capable of pulling it off. The music starts and you go from the top all the way to the part you were just taught, taking a deep breath in preparation for what’s about to happen.

Just like you had been instructed moments ago, you step very close to Haechan, right behind him, actually, and place one hand on his shoulder as you trail the other across the front of his chest, fingernails scratching the skin underneath through the flimsy t-shirt he’s wearing. You step around to stand in front of him and continue the motion, peering at him with a hesitance that melts away and into an assertive gaze once you see the apprehension in his own eyes. His skin crawls a little, not out of fear but an odd satisfaction and excitement at the feeling of you so near and the sight of your eyes bright with so much determination and dominance, lingering touch tracing the base of his neck and stimulating his nerves from head to toe.

You yelp slightly at what he does next even though you knew it was coming, your self-assured exterior evaporating only moments after it appeared. Haechan turns around and sweeps you off of your feet to hold you in his arms. In the blink of an eye, he helps you hook one of your knees behind his head as he tosses you into the air with seemingly no effort whatsoever, flipping you around to face the other way and catching you immediately after. The complicated lift makes your heart leap to the front of your throat with exhilaration, and you mentally applaud yourself for succeeding on the first try.

Haechan finds it odd that you were so willing to do this lift in the first place, since trust is a key component of partner work in dance. He can’t explain it, and neither can you, quite honestly. A small part of him, however, is glad you didn’t object to the prospect of him being directly responsible for your safety for even the most instantaneous of moments.

“Alright, so for this next part, I’m sure you’re aware of that fact that Michael Jackson was famous for his pelvic—”

Okay, that’s enough, you’ve heard enough. Tuning out the conversation and whirling around to face away from the floor-to-ceiling mirror, you twiddle your thumbs while the choreographer teaches Haechan one of the iconic dance steps in Thriller, and your evident shyness at her unabashed explanation makes him smirk. Thankfully, she has a different set of movements prepared for you.

Since when are you ever shy around him, though?

You still can’t bring yourself to watch your reflections in the glass when you practice the new part together, since he gets so into the provocative motions. His eyes seem to taunt you with the smugness they hold, and you hate the way he’s testing you. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand those eyes for all the times they send a shiver down your spine, for all the times they come alive with a beast-like glow. Those eyes can go from soft and sympathetic at times, although the moments are rare, to something else entirely. His mocking stares make your stomach turn, reminding you of why you’ve felt this way about him for so long.

But you’re scared that a new and different feeling is developing inside of you, one that’s telling you he’s not so bad, that you should give him a chance. Haechan has noticed a similar one within himself, and he begins to regret the way he immaturely perpetuated your own resentment for so long.

Even if you do end up making amends eventually, he’s not sure he’ll be willing to abandon all of the playful glances and teasing remarks with flirtatious undertones he sends your way. Do you even notice these things? If your periodic blushing is any indication, then the answer is most definitely yes.

You spend another couple of hours under the choreographer’s direction, stopping only when you had been taught each and every step from the piece’s beginning until the end. Though a Halloween-inspired performance, there’s a surprisingly large amount of eerily romantic undertones within it. You don’t have enough fingers to count the number of times you ultimately caress some part of the other’s body in a forbidding manner, with locked eyes and threatening, fiery glares.

The two of you also have a second but more simple lift, in which you jump and Haechan catches you by the legs to pull your torso against his, while you cling to him tightly like a koala. He supports your weight fully, and never once does the possibility of falling cross your mind. It’s strange how your body is so trusting of him, much more so than your mind.

Towards the end of the song, the lyrics mention something about cuddling close together, the timing of your movements intentionally mirroring the words. Haechan walks in a circle, still carrying you in his arms, and unlike when you’re standing on your own two feet, he actually has to look up slightly to meet your gaze with his own. Something doesn’t feel quite right, though, both of you sensing that you should be putting more effort into the eye contact between you right now.

“No, no, no! Stop for a second.” Your choreographer looks frustrated.

“You have to look at each other like you really mean it,” she corrects. “Just imagine that you’re two lovers on Halloween night, clinging to each other for dear life as you’re being surrounded by every kind of monster imaginable.” Even Haechan flushes a deep red at the descriptive picture she paints in your minds, hoping to inspire you. “Try again, please.”

Putting every necessary emotion into your expressions, you both stare each other down as he lifts you up again, this time with a never-before-seen passion burning in your eyes that could only be described as crazed, lustful desire.

Haechan has always admired your skills, although internally these days, ever since he met you, especially your ability to easily adapt to the message or tone of a piece. Happiness, sadness, anger, whatever your instructor asked of you, you could embody the exact feeling on your face, not to mention in the way that you moved to the beat. Out of all of the scenarios your choreographer could have illustrated, this one is something he never would have expected you to be so ready for. He’s taken aback by how smoothly your facial expression transitions from sheepish to seductive in no time flat.

You wish you could say that you’re not flustered by how well he matches the look in your eyes with his own tantalizing gaze, but alas, that’s not the case.

It’s undoubtedly a dance with a more mature theme than either of you are used to, but you’re both such naturals at it that she compliments you once Haechan sets you back on the ground.

“That’s exactly what I want to see! Keep it up, you two. Are you sure you’ve never been in a piece with any sexual tension before?”

You’re glad you hadn’t quite taken a sip from your water bottle yet, because you definitely would’ve spit it out from pure shock and embarrassment at the bluntness of her remark. Haechan was not so lucky.

The two of you run through the dance almost endlessly, and by the end of your rehearsal your legs are threatening to give out at any moment. “Last time,” she alerts you, “And then you’re done for the day.”

A chorus of some minor corrections but mostly proud affirmations meets your ears as you practice the piece for the final time. “Other foot, Haechan... Strong arms! Good... And lift! That’s it...”

About to collapse from exhaustion and grimacing at the disgusting feeling of sweat on every inch of your skin, both of you thank the choreographer once she dismisses you.

“You two did a great job today, now go home and rest. You worked hard.”

Fishing your car keys out of your bag, you hear her packing up her things inside the studio before she exits the room and strides into the hallway, flipping the light switch and shutting the door behind her. “I’m going to recommend to your teacher that she should partner you up more often. I was really surprised by how well you collaborated.” She chuckles a little, “And to think she told me that you might not get along.”

Exchanging questioning looks, you both nod and smile at her before she makes her way down the hallway, leaving the building through the staff door.

“What was that all about?”

“No idea,” you reply to Haechan with nervousness in your voice, not sure if this is the right time to apologize for several years’ worth of constantly being at each other’s throats.

The moment passes before you can make a decision, and Haechan bids you farewell with a “See you around” over his shoulder. You can’t get the choreographer’s comment out of your mind as you drive home.

But she’s right: your chemistry with each other is unbelievable. Each time you practice this dance in front of them, the rest of your friends stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed at how you move in perfect unison, leaping and turning and touching at all the right moments. Your instructor is sure her jaw is on the floor. Sure, she was expecting something powerful, something fierce, but nothing like this.

The weeks leading up to the Halloween showcase are hectic, as they always are, filled with the rush of adrenaline and last-minute preparations being made, ensuring that everything would be ready for those long nights spent on waiting behind the curtains, moving amidst the stage fog, and dancing below the bright spotlights.

You think you’ve spoken to Haechan more in the past 4 days than you have in the past 4 years. He doesn’t know if it’s just his imagination, but it seems like you’ve gotten more comfortable performing with him as time has gone by. Maybe he should be paying more attention to the steps instead of the way you lean further into him as he clutches your form in his strong arms, torsos pressing into one another and the crevices of your bodies aligning with ease. Maybe he shouldn’t get distracted by the closeness of your lips to his forehead, by the distance that always seems to decrease each time you run through the dance. One day he’s sure he’ll feel their delicate curve against his skin, or maybe they’ll slip down a little to be more level with his. Either way, Haechan isn’t complaining.

The rehearsals that spill over from their scheduled time slots into the late hours of the night leave everyone in the show drowsy after the intense quantities of repeated exertion, running piece after piece over and over again until just standing up is a feat within itself.

And then, all of a sudden, it’s the day of the first show. Costumes have been tailored, makeup has been applied and hair has been done up with an ungodly amount of products and pins.

It can’t be much longer until it’s your turn to perform, so you’re not sure why you find yourself grabbing Haechan by the sleeve of his intentionally tattered shirt, meant to look like that of a zombie, and pulling him into a dark, secluded corner of the backstage area.

“We’re on in 5, what are y—”

“Can I apologize?”

He blinks a few times, processing the word he never thought he would hear leave your lips.

“For... huh?”

“Everything.” You’re thankful that the lighting is minimal back here, concealing the glistening water drops that are beginning to gather at the rims of your eyes.

Voice nearly breaking, you can’t articulate why it feels like the right time to say all of this. But here you are.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for so many years of unexplained anger and outbursts towards you, I’m sorry that I’ve been acting so immature even after all this time. I’m sorry for blaming you and making excuses to justify my actions and my feelings, I—”

You have more that you want to say but the words are no longer coming out, and maybe it’s because your throat feels like it’s burning from all of the emotion it just conveyed in the span of just a few seconds. Maybe it’s because you’ve somehow lost your voice even though you hadn’t been speaking above a whisper. But the most probable cause of them all, is this: maybe it’s because you’ve been rendered speechless by Haechan’s own apology that he delivers by messily crashing his mouth into yours, any further thoughts melting away against his soft lips.

For once, you don’t mind being cut off by him if it’s like this.

His heart begins to sink when you pull away after only a few seconds, but a small smile graces his features once again as you lean in so that your lips hover next to his ear.

“You better not mess up my makeup, Lee Haechan.”

“Donghyuck, actually.”

“What?” Quizzically, you arch an eyebrow.

“My name. My real name.”

“So why do y—”

“Shh, no time. Kiss now, talk later.”

You can’t argue with that. Not when he’s beholding you with a long-awaited forgiveness and a fondness long-concealed in his eyes. Not when the thrill of a time limit has your brains going a mile a minute, an electric buzz erupting over the expanse of your skin his hands are grasping.

You kiss him like it’s the only thing in the whole world that you know how to do. The setting is far from picturesque, with the tangled technical wires littering the floor at your feet and leftover stage equipment haphazardly leaning against the wall, but neither of you really care. Taking care not to snag the fabric of your costume, his fingers find purchase on your waist and his lips on the dip of your collarbone. At first they dotingly imprint fleeting pecks onto the rise and fall of the skin there, but when their pressure and his haste starts to escalate, you know you have to stop him before he starts something you can’t finish.

“Hyuck!” The abbreviation of his name makes his head snap up, bewildered but pleased.

“You can’t leave marks, I told you...” you trail off. “Hey, why are you smiling like that?”

“Please never call me anything else, ever.”

Donghyuck brings you in for one more kiss, well aware that a stagehand could turn the corner at any given moment. Drinking you in, he captures your lips between his, letting your body press his back into the wall behind him, and a few sharp inhales later, you break apart.

You fix his hair while he adjusts your clothes, and you’re just in time because a technician spots you and urgently gestures towards the stage. “You’re up!”

Positioning yourselves on opposite sides of the large performance space, the lights go down and you hear the rush of air from the heavy curtain opening as it glides past you. The thick artificial smoke partially obscures his form, but you can see his eyes clearly, nearly glowing in the darkness.

As the music starts, slow and quiet at first, you step to the rhythm just like you practiced. When a loud, electronic chord blares, you both pick up speed, launching into that waltz step you first learned many weeks earlier. For the first time ever, you’re able to look into his eyes.

Anyone could see that your movements complement each other effortlessly, but only your teacher picks up on the shift in mood after the countless times she’s seen you perform in the studio. Only she notices the shift in both of your gazes. You look... happy. Focused. Confident.

Donghyuck was able to bring you out of the shell you retreated into so long ago. You don’t feel subordinate as you’re dancing next to him, or being held in his arms. You move as equals, two parts of a whole.

When he picks you up, you can’t help but allow a small smile to stretch your lips. Donghyuck tries to remind you that you’re supposed to have lustful looks in your eyes by narrowing his own at you, but it’s no use. Your slight grin is contagious, and it ends up taking over his face as well.

You finish the piece smoothly, ending in a pose with your backs pressed together and hands clasped. Applause erupts from the audience, and a few cheers come from the rest of the performers waiting in the wings, shielded from the view of the crowd sitting in the seats below.

Needless to say, as you pass other dancers in the halls and receive countless congratulations and compliments, all you can think about is having Donghyuck’s lips on your skin again.

One long heart-to-heart and dozens, no, hundreds of kisses later, all is right with your world. It’s foreign territory to you both, not wanting to pounce on each other at every waking moment. But it’s something you’ll explore together, figuring out how to make up for lost time and just how to go about this newly-repaired relationship.

Exiting the empty dressing room, you take his hand in your own and head backstage once again to watch the rest of the showcase from the side, with your head leaning on his shoulder and his arm pulling you close.

At the party held for all the members of the show’s cast that night, it’s far too loud for your liking, and there’s no room to properly dance with Donghyuck. Despite you all being professional dancers-in-training, everyone else seems to have reverted to the mindset of your average high school student, thinking that jumping up and down repeatedly qualifies as dancing. You disagree, but whatever. It’s not important.

What is important, however, is the fact that the two of you would much rather escape the suffocating crowd of young adults. You would much rather slip out through the sliding glass door that leads to the house’s backyard, marveling at the fading sunset that melts into a deep blue night sky dotted with splashes of clustered lights. The stars are nature’s spotlights, shining down on you as Donghyuck takes you in his arms, one hand finding yours and the other resting on your side, somewhere between your hips and your waist.

Swaying in the silence with only the noises of the evening as your soundtrack, the boy that you would’ve sworn was the devil incarnate a month ago looks so angelic, so lovable. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on.

“So, should we start over?”

“Definitely.”

There’s no one else in this world you’d rather dance the night away with.

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hopeamarsu · 3 years

Text

Close Shave #1 - Frankie Morales

Frankie Morales x reader

Word count: just shy of 2k

Warnings: Straight razor shaving. I guess it could technically be counted as knifeplay, so just to be on the safe side I’ve marked it down. Some James Bond quotes are lifted from the movie Skyfall.

And yes, there’ll be another piece with Clyde later on. Because these two men have my heart and I will not be able to choose. Lol.

Ever since your visit to the antique store with Frankie on a sunny Sunday afternoon, you hadn’t been able to get the set out of your mind. First off, the wood case was beautifully crafted; despite the time passed it still looked shiny and all the metal parts worked well, despite aging and darkening. It had called you from the corner, sung like the sweetest canary, and you had been unable to resist. You marveled the feel of the smooth wood as your hand caressed the corners, admiring the craftsmanship.

Once you had opened the case, you had been sold. The beautiful straight razor with gold and copper caps, the fluffy brush with a casing for cream, the leather strop and paste box all looked pristine. Well, the strop had obviously been used before, but it still looked in wonderful condition. You could still smell a hint of the musky beard oil that was once kept in its own place within the box, the woodsy and earthy tones hitting your nostrils as you peered in for a closer look.

It had only been the steep price that had made you leave the shaving kit there. But you still had thought about it until long after dinner and as you got ready for bed that you knew you had to get something like that for Frankie.

After some intense browsing and comparing later, you had finally placed an order for a straight razor kit, some additional oils and moisturizers and they had arrived neatly packaged this afternoon. You had taken the day off work in order to prepare. Preparing meant countless Youtube videos on the subject, practicing the use of the straight razor on air and on balloons you had slabbed some shaving cream on.

You had also transformed your master bathroom into an oasis, with dimmed lights and one of the dining chairs sitting in the middle of it all. There were lit candles, sheets and towels in the dryer to keep them warm and a small pillow sacrificed for the occasion was sitting beside the sink, ready for use.

You had a selection of bottles next to the pillow; a small moisturizer, a bottle of beard oil that carried a sandalwood, vanilla and bergamot scent (something you thought he would appreciate) and a little bowl with shaving cream already ready. The piece de la resistance had a prized place on a small side table you’d dragged into the bathroom.

Now you just needed the man of the hour, one Francisco Morales.

You knew he had no flights today so he should be home shortly. Maybe you’d roped Will and Benny into making sure there wouldn’t be any Friday happy hour gatherings but you would never tell. And neither would they if they wanted you to cook for them the next time boys night was at your house.

Right on cue, you heard the truck pull up and you took the moment to gather one of the sheets and two towels from the dryer, while you waited for him to enter.

“Hermosa? You home?”

“I’m in the bathroom, babe! Would you come and help me for a moment?”

Was it sneaky to lure him in under false pretenses? Maybe, but getting him in here would be a challenge otherwise. And you didn’t want him wandering around the house and picking up on the missing items.

Two loud thumps followed your question and you knew Frankie’s boots were off and socketed feet carried him towards your bedroom. Some shuffling around the bed and a question rang out.

“What’s this, hermosa?”

“Please put them on and come in. I have a surprise for you. Oh! And leave the cap behind too, thank you.” You had laid out a pair of sweatpants and his softest possible T-shirt on the bed, wanting to extend the comfort as far as you could. You pressed play on your phone and smooth classical music began to play from the bluetooth speakers. It was set on top of the toilet, far away from any water sprays.

You heard him shuffle in the bedroom, no doubt obeying your wishes and you started to swirl the shaving cream in the bowl with the brush, making it as fluffy and airy as you could.

The door to the bathroom opened and you were greeted by your boyfriend in his grey sweatpants, his white t-shirt and dark curls framing his face. The hair was mussed up, no doubt because of his tendency to keep the hat on at all times and this must’ve been his attempt at ridding himself of hat hair. He looked adorable as the curls hung around his forehead and over his ears all messy. His dark brown eyes were open and curious as they took in the scene and you smoothed down your own t-shirt anxiously.

“Sweetheart… What is all this?” He whispered, the awe clear in his voice.

“Come, sit down,” You took his hand, placing the bowl back on the counter as you pulled him closer. A small kiss was placed on him by your lips and you pushed him gently towards the chair. As he sat down, you placed the small pillow under his neck, urging him to relax into it. The pillow would certainly help his position in the long run.

“Remember that antique store a couple of weeks back?” You spoke as you draped the sheet on top of his chest once he was settled. With Frankie’s affirmative hum, you opened the tap and let water run, trying to find the perfect temperature.

“I didn’t tell you this at the time, but there was this gorgeous antique shaving kit in the back, strops and brushes and all in tip top shape. It got me thinking that I wanted to do a little something to pamper you and I bought a modern-slash-antique-looking set. I want to give you a shave.”

As you spoke, you lathered your hands under the water, ridding them of their coldness before wetting two small makeup towels to run across his face. The surprised gasp that left his lips betrayed he hadn’t been expecting that.

You got into the rhythm of things, wetting his face with long strokes, allowing the warm towels to soothe his skin and soften it. Frankie’s eyes fell closed as the up and down strokes lulled him. After that, you squirted some cleanser into your hands, rubbing them together.

“I’m going to clean your face real quick, before we get into the shaving part. Do you want me to leave something or would you prefer clean-shaven?” You murmured, keeping your tone low to make sure he wasn't disturbed.

“Whatever you like hermosa,” came his reply, a sleepy mumble that made you smile. Frankie worked so hard sometimes, taking care of his baby girl on the weekend she was with you, you and your relationship, his sobriety and the copters back in the hangar.

After Colombia, he and the Miller brothers had joined forces, opening up a business together. They combined self-defence classes and survival training and business was good. Once Frankie had gotten his licence back, they often took their students training in the mountains, testing the limits and allowing for them to train first-aid skills on the wilderness too.

It was honest and hard work. You knew how much all of them loved it and they were hopeful that Santi would join them as well once he was able, bringing the boys together once more. But the physical aspect of the job, including the maintenance of the planes, did take a lot out of your man, so to offer him this after a long week felt really good. And judging by his blissed-out state in the chair as you swept the lather into his skin and beard, he was enjoying it too.

Round and round the brush went, all along his jaw and cheeks. You made sure he was well covered in the cream before you stepped back a little, taking the small steel knife into your hand.

“Cut-throat razor. How very traditional.”

The quote slipped your mouth quietly as you admired the blade in your hand. Frankie’s eyebrow lifted but a hand on his shoulder eased it down again. Taking a deep breath, you let the blade touch his skin and waited for a beat. When there was no resistance on his part, apart from his hand finding its way to your hip as a grounding place, you let it slide across the lathered skin and stopped about an inch from his jawline. After all, there was something in a man with facial hair, especially if that man was Frankie.

“Sometimes the old ways are the best,” You couldn’t help yourself, letting the next line fall down as the blade lifted from his skin. The motions repeated themselves, both of you getting lost in the moment. The music faded in the background, Ludovico Einaudi’s calming notes becoming only a memory as you watched the blade move and turn the cream around, revealing smooth skin beneath. Each motion was followed by a swipe on the towel to make sure the blade didn’t dull in the middle of the session. It felt almost like a dance, your breaths the only sound left.

You moved, he stayed still. He moved, you stayed still. Back and forth, like the steps of a complicated dance.

You didn’t know how long it took, shaving his face, but when there was only the small part left in the middle of his throat, you felt him gulp.

“Keep still,” You admonished him slightly, tipping his face backwards, his skull digging a little deeper into the pillow that separated it from the cold marble of the sink. “This is the tricky part.” The final swipe was almost tantalizingly slow as you dragged it upwards to meet his chin. The trust he placed in you that moment made you feel powerful. It felt like something settled upon both of you as you lifted the blade from his skin for the last time.

“Now that’s better,” You breathed out, as you watched him tip his head forward and open his eyes. The dark pools drilled into yours, the arousal and relaxation dancing a tango within, battling for dominance. How you wanted to keep watching it, enjoy how the candlelight reflected from the dark orbs but there were still steps to take before you could. You held his gaze for a moment, before lifting a towel from the counter to wipe off any excess cream left behind.

“Did you…”

“Shh, I’m not done with you yet, mi amor.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled softly to him. Frankie nodded, the movement barely there but still visible. He relaxed back, allowing you to rub some oil into his beard and some moisturizer into his skin. Frankie’s eyes slipped close once more and you took the moment to really admire him and the neatly trimmed beard in full.

“All done,” A whisper in the air as you trailed his regal nose with your fingertip. His eyes remained closed but his hands grabbed your waist to tuck you into his lap. Slowly, the eyelids opened and lashes fluttered as Frankie peered into your eyes. The relaxation had won out, but there was still a small fire simmering behind that.

“Did you quote James Bond to me?” He muttered, letting his left hand trail up your spine.

“You know how I like that scene.” You shrugged.

“Mhmm… Will you allow me to recreate some other scenes from those movies?” There was a playful edge to his voice as Frankie’s hand rested on the back of your neck. You leaned closer, breaths mingling, as you let a sliver of air between your lips.

“Go right ahead, mister.”

Tagging @clydesducktape @wayward-rose @themuseic @miraclesabound @clydesfavoritegirl @a-true-janian-reply @10blurredsmoke10 @caillea @mind-p0llution

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #triple frontier fanfiction #my writing #cw: knifeplay #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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