#nah actually this is just him sitting under the dinner table begging for sips of Monster Energy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

1kook · 5 years

Text

skirt chasers

jjk x (f) reader

summary “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.” tags f2l, triple texting king kook, ncampus crush kook who is also the weird gamer boy, the skirt aspect is forgotten towards the end tbh, dumbassery is a disease and we are all affected by it, confessions SO CORNY it could be a 2005 teen romcom warnings smut in the form of: unprotected sex, use of mirrors, mostly heavy petting as foreplay I’m sorry, mentions of Jk’s furry ways as a gag kinda, like an unnecessary amount of swearing wc 7.8k

to make a long story short, i saw this nsfw gif and wrote this entire fic between 2 am and 6 am anyway i actually really like how this turned out!! lmk when u think

Part of the ideology behind the pleated skirt was in hopes that buying a new wardrobe would somehow help you rebrand your image around campus. Truthfully, it was kinda too late for that now; you’d been here going on three years, your friends and anyone with eyes could see that the style of clothing you leaned towards favored comfort over fashion. However, someone—it might’ve been Taehyung—had gone on a drunken spiel the other night concerning the importance of presenting oneself via fashion. It wasn’t aimed at you, but it certainly left you wondering.

Which is how you find yourself shivering to the bone now, lingering around the west quad as you wait for Jungkook to come out of an anatomy lab. He’s at that point in the semester where grades mean nothing and everything to him at the same time, so Namjoon’s commissioned you and your other pals to take turns babysitting him once a week to make sure he gets at least some assignments done.

You don’t know where any of you would be without Kim Namjoon.

Anyway, your legs are fucking cold and if this is what it takes to be known as the fashionably cute girl around campus, you’d rather choke. The imaginary sound of your bones rattling is cut off when Jungkook throws the door nearest you open, his big dopey smile engulfing his face the moment he sees you. He barely acknowledges the gaggle of students that follow after him, all calling out a chorus of goodbyes to him, because unlike you Jungkook was the cute, campus boy crush with his suave looks and comfortable fashion. God, if only you could pull off sweats and mustard-stained Venom shirts like him.

“Lets go,” you yawn, hands stuffed deep into the pockets of your long cardigan. Jungkook jogs over, slinging an arm around your shoulders and nearly knocking you into the emergency telephone you’d been brooding by. “You smell sterile again.”Jungkook grins.

“That’s because I was touching dead people again,” he informs you, too giddy for someone who’d probably fingered the fuck out of a gallbladder twenty minutes ago.

“Ew,” you whine, the sudden urge to shove Jungkook and his dead people germs away from you. He cackles in your face, and you wonder again how he single handedly enthralls half the campus population with a laugh like a seagull.

You’ve barely moved ten feet when Jungkook finally notices your vibrating body, and it’s only because you’re nearly convulsing with shivers at this point. “Woah, what are those,” he exclaims, eyes pointedly eyeing your legs.

You know your bare legs are a rare sight when Jungkook has to resolve to overused memes to refer to them.

“They’re my legs, and they’re fucking freezing,” you calmly reply.

Jungkook seems shocked for only a moment longer, and you almost think he’s gotten over it when he suddenly snorts and scares the shit out of you in the middle of the crosswalk. “Why the fuck are you wearing a skirt in this weather, you dinglehead?”

You shove him, and he stumbles over the curb, but you get the feeling he’d do that without you pushing him. Jungkook was clumsier than Namjoon on his bad days. “I’m trying to be fashionable, you hater,” you huff, not even bothering to say thank you when he pulls open the coffee shop door for you. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to someone who doesn’t even wear the right size shirt.”

Like always, he’s one step ahead of you and hands the cashier his card before you can even reach for your wallet. Next time. “Baggy clothes are in, but you wouldn’t know that, Miss I Draw Inspiration From Catholic School Girls.”

“For your information I bought this from H&M,” you retort, though you can’t hide the flush that warms your cheeks at his comment. “Also, what's the point of working out your hotbod if you’re just gonna hide it under shirts long enough to be a mini-dress, huh? Riddle me that, Jeon.”

You flinch when your bare thigh touches the cold seat of the booth, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Your skirt is mad short,” he points out, and you kick his shins.

You’ve already got a Google Doc open on your laptop from last night when you and Jimin had been going ham on a psych essay, but you also have a Fashion Nova cart on another window that’s just begging for you to check out.

“Short skirts are just a concept made by men with lingering eyes to demean and belittle women who don’t submit to their every want and need.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, and you watch him muffle a laugh into his palm as he gets his own work out. “Do you think I’m gonna pull the meninist card out on you and call you a slut or something?”

You fake gasp, eyes wide and shocked as you give him your best disappointed face. “Jeon, how could you? I expected better from you.”

This time he does laugh, a dorky sound unlike his witch cackle from earlier, and you finally let a smile slip. Jungkook was funny, too sweet and kind hearted for his own good. A little dumb, but most cute guys were. He’s one of those guys who thinks girls are nice to him out of their own free will, and not because they’re trying to bag the campus hottie.

“Seriously,” he says once he’s pulled his fat anatomical reference book out, stuffed to the brim with worn scientific essays he’d printed out, and pictures he’d taken at every single one of his visits to the cadaver lab. His voice is earnest and genuine when he speaks again. “You can wear whatever you want, I was just curious about the skirt ‘cause you normally wear things past the knee and elbow.”

When he puts it like that you kinda sound surprisingly conservative.

You shrug, tapping away at your computer as if the sight of you in anything other than what he said isn’t really weird. “Just thought I’d try something new. Why, does it look too weird?” Your voice suddenly feels meek, and you’re not sure if your cheeks are warm from the chill outside or from something else.

Jungkook shakes his head, coconut hair bouncing from side to side. “Nah, you look cute,” he says, and then, as if an afterthought, adds, “weirdly sexy, too. Like you belong in a Brazzers video?”

“What the fuck, Jungkook,” you groan, sinking your head into your palms.

“What! You asked for my opinion and I gave you it,” he defends, too casual for someone spewing their unwarranted porn knowledge at you. You urge him to do his homework, drink his coffee, anything besides embarrass you further.

He does, but you don’t miss the goofy way he glances under the table one more time.

The pleated skirt makes it’s return three weeks later, this time accompanied by her best friend, the sheer pantyhose.

“Oh, who’s this sexy schoolgirl?” Taehyung exclaims the moment you step into the diner. Your cheeks flush red when the family beside you send you and your friends a disapproving look.

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook says as he gets up to let you slide into the booth. He has this incessant need to be sitting at the end of the booth just in case nature calls in the middle of dinner and he can’t usher the rest of you out fast enough.

(It almost happened once, and the sight of Jungkook shoving Hoseok flat on his ass had been too funny to forget.)

“Wait a minute, is that why you stopped using EOS and started using the Dove shaving cream?” Chaeyoung interrogates from across you. “So you could show off your sexy model legs?”

“No, Dove is just cheaper,” you reply, trying to sound as aloof as possible but if anyone at this table knew you like the back of their hand, it was definitely Chaeyoung. “Why can’t you guys let me live my best life?”

Taehyung scoffs. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Who the fuck are you?” You snap back, but your level of sass can never seem to match his.

“We all know your ‘best life’ would be spent in those fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants and one of Kook’s big ass shirts,” he points out, and you hide behind your menu much to everyone’s amusement.

You whine, “why can’t you all just be supportive besties and tell me I look cute?”

“You look gorgeous, babe,” Chaeyoung assures you, gesturing for you to pass her the sugar for her coffee. “It’s just weird seeing your legs out. Almost weirder than if you randomly pulled your tits out right now.”

Behind her, you can see the same mom from the family glaring at you guys. You lower your head in shame.

“For the record, I’m team skirt, but I wouldn’t be opposed to the other,” Jungkook adds after being silent for so long. Taehyung fist bumps him as you slap your hand over your eyes. At this rate you’d rather just put a paper bag over your head.

“We’re sitting on the same side of the table, so you’re supposed to be on my side!” You groan, and Jungkook shrugs mid-milkshake sip.

“I am!” He splutters once he’s gulped down the thick substance. “I just said I was team skirt, did I not?” His scandalized pout twists into the same sneaky little smile he has whenever Taehyung has convinced him and Jimin to do something stupid. “But I’m also a man, and therefore, a skirt chaser,” he winks.

From the other side of the table Taehyung’s eyes twinkle. “Bro, your mind,” he says in awe. He reaches over to shake Jungkook’s hand as if he’s just presented the table with some riveting discovery in the medical field, and the fucker has the nerve to look smug about it too.

“You guys are so stupid,” Chaeyoung whispers right before the server sets her pancakes down.

“Hey, have you seen Joon’s book? He said he might’ve left it—oh, Jesus, fuck sorry,” Jungkook says before whirling around to face the wall.

You turn from your bent over position by your bed where you’d been rummaging around for a book you coulda sworn you stuffed there last week. Jungkook’s blazing cheeks don’t register with you until you realize your favorite skirt is draping over your rear, giving him a clear view of your dorky star-printed panties.

“Kook,” you stammer, quickly jumping to your feet and brushing your hands over your skirt. “H-How’d you get in?” You ask for lack of greeting.

“Um, uh,” Jungkook stutters, eyes laser focused on some point on your wall. “Chaeyoung let me in.”

“Oh,” you say, and then silence falls over the two of you.

Holy shit this was awkward.

Despite being friends for going on three years, you don’t ever remember there being any stale moments between you and Jungkook. You were the type of friends that just clicked, never having gone through that awkward phase before. But you’d also never seen each other in any state less than presentable. (Being drunk at parties did NOT count, and even then, you’ve always been pretty collected.)

To know that he’s seen your ass, covered or not, tilted your Golden Friendship with Jungkook scale extremely off center. Your fingers twiddle at your sides, not really sure if you should mention what just happened or… what?

He coughs, and you snap back to reality. “Um,” he drawls, still not looking at you but at the socks you’d thrown off the second you got home. “Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice soft and earnest in that Jungkook™ way that made all the girls swoon. “I should’ve knocked before coming in all rude.” He finally gathers the balls to look you in the eye, and the dude looks like a kicked puppy.

“No,” you wave him off, hands fluttering in front of you because standing like some Macy’s holiday mannequin certainly isn’t making this situation any easier. “It’s okay, the skirt—y’know this wouldn’t happen if I just wore pants,” you say, tacking on a self-deprecating laugh. It’s your turn to look away in shame.

Jungkook jumps at your words. “The skirt’s cute!” He basically shouts and you flinch at the sudden increase in his tone. Then you’re both left looking at each other wide-eyed again as he scrambles to assure you it isn’t your fault. “I like it, and it makes your legs look really nice, so don’t-“ he stutters, as if realizing the meaning in his words, “don’t stop wearing it...” he trails off, cheeks rosy. Your mind goes blank.

“R-Really?” You stutter, surprised at his compliment. It’s not like Jungkook never complimented you—dude couldn’t go fifteen minutes without telling his friends how much he loved them—but for some reason it feels different now.

“Yeah,” he assures you. “Makes you look nice, and um. Pretty.”

“Jeon Jungkook telling me I look pretty? Someone call TigerBeat magazine,” you joke, trying to ease the tension somehow. Your chuckle sounds awfully robotic to your ears, but it makes Jungkook crack a smile and that’s all that matters.

“Shut up. You know I’m not friends with ugly people.”

“Wooow,” you laugh, real this time. “How noble of you,” you retort, and he gives you his best snobby expression possible.

“Ya, you’re welcome,” he teases, and then suddenly remembers what he came for in the first place. “Give me Joon’s planner, I know you’re holding it hostage.”

You roll your eyes, and point over to the notebook on your desk that’s absolutely overflowing with sticky notes and bookmarks. “As if I’d want his nerd diary ruining the good vibes in here.”

“These good vibes smell a lot like Bath and Body Works perfumes, you cheapskate,” Jungkook says as he snatches the book off the surface. He’s at the door again, narrowing you with another faux uppity look when he adds, “this is a Victoria’s Secret Bombshell household.”

“Bombshe—you don’t even live here!” You huff in laughter, ushering him down the hall to the front door. He’s half a foot out the door when he suddenly whirls around, making you take a step back in surprise.

“The stars are cute, but I prefer hearts.”

He slams the door shut behind him so fast, that you almost don’t catch the smirk tacked on at the end.

You were many things, but a liar was not one of them. You couldn’t lie to your parents when you were younger and wanted to sneak out, to your teacher when she asked where your homework was, or to your friends when they asked you who you liked. You couldn’t even lie to yourself.

You’ll admit it, there was a time your eyes had lingered a little longer on Jungkook. When you would spend moments tracing the slope of his jawline, and memorizing the twinkle in his eyes. He was devastatingly handsome, and you would be blind not to see it.

But that was before you became close friends—before game nights at Hoseok’s became a regular staple in your schedule, before your little makeshift picnics in the quad, before you all became Park Jimin’s dedicated fan club (it’s a rotating unit consisting of whoever’s able to go to Jimin’s showcases).

Those fantasies of kissing Jungkook and going on dates were stuffed to the back as you became pals. As you’ve mentioned a million times now, Jungkook was the campus dream boy. He was hardly the skirt chaser he made himself out to be, too sweet and romantic for his own good. Besides, there was no need to be when the skirts flocked to him.

He’d had flings, and even girlfriends, in the time you’ve known him, but he rarely mentioned them to his friends. And even though you pushed that teensy crush aside, you still wondered how Jungkook acted with girls he was interested in, if it was the same he treated you and Chaeyoung, or special on an intimate level a platonic friendship could never be.

It’s the middle of the night when you first get a glimpse.

[1:21 am] jk wyd

[1:21 am] you sleeping , u?

[1:22 am] jk same anyway I finally beat world 8 in super Mario bros

[1:25 am] you omg the 1 w dry bowser?? [1:26 am] you wait u said u wouldn’t play w/o me :/

[1:27 am] jk u suck at Luigi and u know it

[1:30 am] you fuck u [1:31 am] you ok but seriously what do u want I have a test tmrw morning and am pretending to be asleep

[1:32 am] jk damn ok can’t I just talk to my friend about my successes [1:33 am] jk but if u must know

[1:33 am] you I must

There’s a lull in messages for a while, and you decide you should finally actually go to sleep, dabbing some spot ointment onto your skin before hopping in bed. You turned off the overhead light long ago, so the only light illuminating you now is the lamp by your bedside. You tap your phone once again right as Jungkook sends another message.

[1:40 am] jk you looked really pretty today

Oh. Your entire body pauses for a moment to process the sudden message, cheeks slowly heating up. You roll your lips in to stop the squeal that threatens to rip itself out of your throat, scrambling for something to type. But it’s the first time he’s randomly thrown something like this on you, and your brain feels like that episode of Spongebob when everything’s on fire.

Before you can send the jumbled letters you’d convinced yourself was acceptable, your phone vibrates with another alert.

[1:42 am] jk I know its weird to say that but I gotta make sure someone told u at least once today

Your heart flutters at the explanation, and you have to slap a hand over your face to get rid of the goody smile that overtakes your features. This time, you’re a little less thrown off and quickly tap out a reply before he can say anything else.

[13:43 am] you thanks kook :) was it the red skirt lol

You’d been experimenting with different skirts lately, quickly growing bored of the black pleated skirt you’d originally worn. Your latest trip to the mall had you coming home with a variety of colors and styles, like the dark red denim one you’d worn today.

[1:45 am] jk no!!!! [1:45 am] jk maybe… [1:46 am] jk ok yes you looked gorgeous

The tiny letters blink back at you, and you set your phone down for a second to smile stupidly at your dark ceiling. You only let yourself wildly kick your legs around for five seconds because Chaeyoung was asleep next door.

[1:47 am] you haha well I’ll make sure to wear it again for u :)

It’s only after you’ve sent the message that the last two words have you stuffing your face into your pillow to hide your embarrassment. Girl, what the fuck!!!

Oh my god, he could’ve just been friendly and polite this whole time. Jimin had said the skirt looked cute on you as well, and you hadn’t responded like this. All it took was a few compliments from Jungkook to have you dopily acting like a clown for his affections.

Before you can scold yourself anymore, your phone vibrates and you have to sit up to retrieve it from where you’d tossed it across the bed.

[1:50 am] jk for me? I’m honored :) [1:51 am] jk anyway get some rest before ur exam!!! [1:51 am] jk night cutie

You squeal, and Chaeyoung kicks your shared wall.

You liked to clown Seokjin for being the president of his fraternity. He was already a stereotypical frat boy, so it wasn’t that hard anyway; he came from money, was ridiculously gorgeous, and played on your school’s soccer team. However, behind that facade he liked to put up, he, too, was infected by the dumbass disease.

“Wait, are those your legs?” He says the moment you step into his frat party. Normally, he wasn’t prone to the same stupid questions that regularly plagued Taehyung and Jungkook (sometimes Namjoon, but everyone had their weak moments), so you deduce that he probably had some alcohol in his system to openly be asking you such a question.

“Yes, now give me whatever’s in that cup,” you brush off, not bothering to stick around to watch him not-so-subtly grope Chaeyoung as she enters behind you. You trust him enough to hand you a drink that hasn’t been roofied, but you’re also aware that Jin drinks like he’s trying to die three times over. One sip has your face scrunching up at the sour bitterness of it all.

There’s a loud cackle of a laugh that you’d recognize anywhere, and you turn to find Jungkook leaning against the staircase banister looking like a wet dream. “Someone lost on their way to Weenie Hut Jr?” he sneers, cheeks a nice rosy color. You flick his forehead.

You don’t bother gracing him with a reply, instead shuffling over so you’re stood side by side observing the party before you. Yoongi’s here, which is an even weirder sight than your legs being out, so you wonder why no one is talking about that. But then you see the way he’s trailing after Seokjin’s cat, Jalapeño, and realize he’s only here to make sure no one hurts her (she’s more important than anyone else here). You honor his service with another sip of Jin’s whatever the fuck mix.

“Wow, getting braver every day, huh?” Jungkook teases after giving you a very intense once over. He’s referring to the skirt you’re wearing, a little black circle skirt that flows around you like the first one you’d worn a couple months ago. Call it a tribute to the one that started it all. You’ve definitely experimented with lengths a little more, the one you’re wearing now brushing just barely below your ass. Appropriate for the frat party, but definitely not for your theology elective.

You hum, stepping aside as a couple makes their way up the stairs. You’re tempted to go tattle on them to Seokjin, but decide against it when you feel Jungkook’s fingers brush against your thigh.

He grins at the surprised little gasp you let out. “Pretty,” he chuckles, deep and seductive in a way you’ve never seen before. You were used to giggly Jungkook, and Jungkook who laughs like the stepmom from Cinderella, but you’d never seen this one before, the Jungkook who looked and laughed like he was straight out of a Calvin Klein campaign.

You giggle like a teenager at his compliment, unsure of what else to do so you settle on chugging Jin’s death drink. You only get a good three gulps in before Jungkook’s tugging the plastic cup away from you and setting it down on the nearest flat surface. “Don’t get all drunk on me now,” he jokes, eyes the teensiest bit glassy. He doesn’t look drunk, and he’s certainly not acting drunk. He might be a little tipsy, you think, because a completely sober Jungkook would never have the balls to tug you closer by the waist like this one does.

Your hands fall flat on his chest, warm beneath the material of his shirt. Not one of his super baggy ones today, but still a bit loose where it could hug his build. “What happened to the little red one? You said you’d wear it for me…” he questions, lips playfully pushing out into a pout.

You struggle to meet his gaze, focusing on the mole beneath his lip instead. “I, um, haven’t got around to washing it,” you stutter, absentmindedly shifting your weight from side to side.

“Really?” Jungkook presses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you at all. After a moment in which he ducks down to catch your gaze, he seems to accept. “That’s fine. This one’s cuter anyway.”

His words are emphasized by his fingers, tracing along the edge of your skirt while purposefully making sure to graze your skin. You shiver, unconsciously arching your chest into him. It’s only afterwards that you realize when Jungkook smirks in triumph. “Easy access too,” he murmurs, and your heart leaps in your chest.

“Jeon,” you whisper, hyper aware of all the people in this house right now. You’re standing at a point where everyone walks by, and the idea of Jungkook groping you in front of these people, some of which are friends, seems horrifying. “People can see.”

Jungkook’s Cheshire smile grows even wider, and you muffle a yelp when his hand slips beneath your skirt to grope your ass. “Since when were you shy?” He says, voice soft and lilting over the hum of whatever music is playing now. “Weren’t shy when you had your ass in the air that one day in your room.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory, but your core surges with a newfound heat at his wandering hands and teasing words. “Remember?”

You nod, tucking your head against his neck in a last ditch effort to hide your embarrassment. From here, your senses are bombarded with Jungkook and only Jungkook.

You feel him let out a long sigh. “Been thinking about you since,” he admits. “Nah, even before that. When you wore my shirt that one day after our balloon fight in the west quad.”

Your heart thunders at his sudden confession. The balloon fight in question had been a little over a year ago, a rallying effort from your friend group to cheer Taehyung up after an exam. After soaking each other to the bone with water guns and balloons, Jungkook had let you wear one of his stupidly big shirts home. So you’d ditched your usual jeans and shirt, wearing his shirt like a dress all the way home.

The fact Jungkook’s been thinking about you since then makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

“Every time you wear these little skirts, I think of that day. You, in my clothes, looking so soft and warm. Fuck, baby, you don’t know what you do to me.”

You glance around, and your soul almost leaves your body when you make direct eye contact with Yoongi holding Jalapeño across the room. He gives you that Yoongi look, the whatever you’re doing is weird but I won’t say anything because I don’t care look, and that’s your signal to stumble your way upstairs before Seokjin can see you two and scold you.

You’re not sure who’s room you end up, just that it has one and a half bunk beds in it, so you don’t hesitate to push Jungkook down onto the half. He plops down like a little cherub, all sweet smiles until you see the way his pants strain at the crotch. Of fuck, this is happening, you think as you climb onto his lap.

His lips envelope yours the second you’re in his arms. You’re not usually one to give into those John Green cliches, but everything about being in Jungkook’s embrace feels so right. Like you belong there, or whatever.

He’s a good ass kisser, but you shouldn’t be surprised. Jungkook was good at everything he did—such was a known fact. But he still kisses you like he’s trying to prove something, like he wants you to melt into him, and he succeeds. His mouth moves against yours, tongue sneaking it’s way past your lips until it’s inside yours, and you’re swapping spit. His breath hot, but you imagine yours is as well because just making out with Jungkook has your body temperature hotter than the inside of a sauna.

“Jungkook,” you groan when he pulls away, desperate to feel his mouth on yours again. He smiles, lips slick and cherried as he drops his hands to your waist.

“‘M right here,” he assures you, pressing a few pecks to your mouth before trailing his lips down your neck, deliciously licking and kissing every inch. You let out a choked moan, and you can feel his smile press against your skin. “Cute,” he croons.

“More,” you beg, fingers curling themselves into his hair. It’s gonna way longer these last few months, the front pieces almost brushing the tip of his nose. He looks sexy as fuck.

“At least let me stretch you out first,” he teases, face too cute for someone about to fuck your brains out. You huff in annoyance, snatching his hand away from its path to your panties.

“No,” you whine, and then shuffle forward to grind your center onto him. Jungkook groans, jaw tight as he watches you. “Just fuck me, Jungkook.”

His eyes roll back at a particular roll of your hips. “I-It’ll hurt, though,” he tries to reason, but his hands are already hiking up the back of your skirt.

“Make it hurt,” you mumble, so caught up in the moment that your eyes bulge out when he suddenly lifts you to your feet. “What’s wrong?” You huff in dismay, lower lip trembling at the thought of him changing his mind. He lets out an airy chuckle.

“Turn around for me, doll,” he softly demands, and not a single inch of you feels the need to go against him.

You’re met with the sight of your own expression, staring back at you from the closet’s mirrored sliding doors. It’s a little dark in the room, most of the light coming from a desk lamp on the other side of the room that had been on when you first broke in with Jungkook.

“So pretty,” Jungkook praises from behind you, and you watch in the glass as two firm hands snake around your waist, slowly easing you back into his lap. In the seconds you were distracted by yourself, he’d unbuckled the front of his jeans, the cotton fabric of his boxers brushing against your ass. “Gonna fuck yourself on my cock, baby?”

You nod, unsure of what to do with your hands. You needn’t worry any longer, your body naturally guiding you through the motions, until one hand grabs his thigh and the other grapples for the bedside drawer next to you. His fingers trace around your waist, hiking your skirt up to—only to reveal a pair of white undies with red hearts. Jungkook’s chuckle against your ear makes you clench your legs together. “Fuck, it’s like you knew this would happen,” he murmurs, and you can’t take your eyes off the mirror as you watch his fingers trace over your covered mound. “Did you?” He asks, breath fanning over your ear.

“N-no,” you gasp, hips jumping when he presses a lone finger to where your clit would be had your girly panties not obstructed the way. You’re embarrassingly wet just from kissing Jungkook, and his playful fingers only worsen your state. “Please hurry, Kook,” you plead, grinding back against his engorged cock.

“You sure?” He checks, and your bobble head nods have him muffling more laughter into your shoulder. “If you say so, baby.”

He lifts you up just the slightest bit to tug his cock out of its confines, and this is the only instance where you wish you weren’t looking at the mirror. His fingers dance along your skin again, tugging your panties to the side.

Screw it, just do it, you say to yourself before sinking down on his cock in one go. “Oh fuck,” you cry, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder at the sudden intrusion.

“Holy shit,” he sighs into your hair, one hand circling to the front of your waist, while the other creeps upwards to rub at where he knows your nipple is. If he were to pull your shirt and bra away, he’d see how rock hard your nipples were right now. “Relax for me, doll, I promise it’ll feel better if you relax.”

You nod, eyes squeezed shut as your body slowly assimilated to the feeling of being stuffed full. God, he felt good inside you. Fit every crevice of you pussy like he was made for you. “Jungkook,” you moan, and he hums in response. “You feel so f-fuckin good,” you babble, swiveling your hips much to both your pleasures. “Can feel you everywhere.”

He presses a kiss to your scalp. “Can you move for me, baby?” He questions, dropping his hands to your waist before slowly pushing you up so you’re not flopped against him like a rag doll. “Wanna see you bounce on my cock. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You nod eagerly, desperate to show Jungkook how good you ride dick. You muster up the strength to sit up, one hand right around his thigh again, but this time the other one clamps down over his hand on your waist. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, giving your hips a tight squeeze.

It’s like you thrive off Jungkook’s compliments, because soon enough you’re riding him like your life depends on it.

It’s a rhythm of pushing yourself over and over, thighs tense from the effort it takes to pull yourself away from his cock until only his tip breaches you, before dropping back down. You can’t entirely take the credit, because Jungkook’s arms are there, lifting you up before pushing you back down. Truthfully, he’s probably still doing most of the work in fucking you with the way you see his arms flexing in the mirror.

“Lemme hear you, doll,” Jungkook huffs, and you don’t hesitate to moan for him. It feels overwhelmingly good, his hands tight on your waist as they move you up and down, the material of your skirt bunched up between his fingers. What you’d give to feel them inside you some day, a day in which you’re not dying to feel his cock inside of you. “That’s it,” he grunts, and doesn’t even complain when your legs begin slowing down.

He picks up the slack for you, thrusting his hips up into you like you’re just some toy for him to use and discard. But the soft praises slipping past his lips assure you you are anything but. “F-fuck,” you whine, forcing yourself above and beyond as you begin to feel that familiar coil of heat grow tighter in your abdomen. “Your cock’s s-so f-fucking big!” You cry, and one look at the mirror let’s you know you look as stupid and fucked-out as you sound.

“Really?” Jungkook smirks, drilling into you like his life depends on it. There’s an embarrassingly growing stain on the front of your panties that you catch sight of in the mirror, and part of you wants to clench your legs shut so he doesn’t see. But it seems to do it for Jungkook, and he starts rambling about that next. “Look at you. Fuck. You’re ruining your cute little panties. Absolutely fucking soaking them with hot wet you are. I get you that wet, doll?”

You squeal at a particular thrust of his hips, feeling his cock so deep in you that your eyes momentarily go cross eyed. “Yes, yes!” You agree, bouncing yourself with a renewed vigor.

The answers please Jungkook, and he rolls forward until he’s pressing his tip faintly against your cervix, and your body damn near leaves your soul. “O-oh fuck!” You scream, body turning into jelly as your orgasm has you spurting hot cum into your panties and over his cock.

“Pretty even when you come,” Jungkook huffs, hips rocking up into yours for a few more minutes until he eventually comes when you roll your hips backwards. “Holy fucking shit,” he moans, finally releasing your skirt from the death grip he had on it.

You watch it flutter back into place around you, and you almost look like two platonic friends sitting together, but then Jungkook shifts inside you and your body convulses from the oversensitivity.

“Wait, you and Jeon finally fucked?!” Chaeyoung exclaims halfway through breakfast, which she had so lovingly prepared at three in the afternoon. “When? Is that why you made us get waxed last week?”

“No!” You flush, shoving another forkful of burnt scrambled eggs into your mouth. “We waxed our coochies before that, but I didn’t know we were gonna fuck.”

Chaeyoung blinks. She’s stupid pretty even with avacado spread on her cheek. “So do you have like a seventh sense on when to get your kitty trimmed?”

“What? No,” You scoff. “Seventh? What’s my sixth?”

“Knowing the exact moment Taehyung’s gonna throw up at a party.”

You accept. “Anyway, we just… I don’t know. It was at Seokjin’s third birthday bash last weekend.” She nods like she remembers anything besides sucking face with him all night. “We were talking and then suddenly we were upstairs and...” you trail off, glancing at your fake collection of succulents lining the kitchen window.

“Was he good?” She interrogates.

You flop back onto your chair dramatically. “Chae. He was so good,” you whine, and she slaps your arm in enthusiasm. “He made me ride him facing a mirror,” you spill.

Chaeyoung squeals. “Bitch!! Here I was thinking Jeon Jungkook was the poster boy of vanilla sex,” she pauses. “I mean, still pretty vanilla compared to the time Seokjin stuck it in my—“

You gag and she rolls her eyes. “Have you been talking since?”

This is the part where things get awkward, and Chaeyoung immediately senses as much. “Oh, honey,” she frowns, eyes furrowed in worry.

“He walked me home,” you mumble, toying with the tablecloth ends. “Kissed me on the doorstep and all, but besides a few texts, I haven’t seen him around,” you lamely finish. It’s been a week.

“Ugh, men are trash,” she spits, turning in her seat to play with your hair. “I swear if I see him on campus I’ll rock his shit. My older brother used to practice WWE moves on me, I could easily smash him through a table.”

“WWE wrestling is staged, Chae,” you point out. Chaeyoung was about ten thousand times more experienced when it came to men and their behaviors. She’s been played but also has played, so her reaction to you telling her about Jungkook is all you need to hear.

In all the scenarios you’ve ever had about Jungkook, him randomly ghosting you had never even been a possibility. The Jungkook from your imaginary universes either just dumped you, or awkwardly friendzoned you. But completely disappearing on you? Now that was some John Greene shit.

You’ve gone long periods of time without seeing him, like your freshman year you saw him one time in March. But even then he’d made sure to keep in contact with you, randomly blowing up your phone with Cup Pong and 8Ball requests.

He sent you two texts this whole week, and both of them had been to cancel your homework sessions.

You almost couldn’t believe you were living this life. The men are trash, love isn’t real, heartbreak can possibly cause death life. Forget John Green, your life had taken an unexpected Shakespearean turn.

“Oh,” you say the moment you step into Taehyung and Jungkook’s apartment, surprised at the fact Jungkook is there despite the fact he, y’know, lives there. In retrospect, you should have seen this coming when Tae had asked you over to help him decorate a poster for Jin’s next game. He’s never been to a single soccer match in his life. “Is Tae here?” You ask, looking every part the stupid bitch.

Jungkook’s cheeks had flushed the moment he opened the door. “No…” he answers, glances at the shoe rack behind the door as if to make sure. “Were you supposed to meet him?” Well no shit.

“Uhh, yeah,” you say, and it’s even more awkward than the time he saw your star undies. Granted, now he’s become very familiar with your underwear and what’s hidden beneath it. You would think such an encounter would bring you two closer. “I’ll just come back another time.”

“Do you wanna come in?” He blurts out before you can even turn away. You flinch at the sudden intensity of his voice, and then both of you are left staring at each other like cringey high schoolers. “I cut some cucumber slices with lime and that one spice you like.”

“Taíjn?” You confirm, and he nods. “I mean...sure, if it’s not a bother.”

Usually when you and Jungkook hung out at his place, you’d throw your bag across the room and flop onto the ugly armchair the moment you stepped in. Now, you’re awkwardly hovering by the armrest of the sofa, like this is your first time here.

Jungkook disappears into the kitchen to, you assume, get the cucumber slices. He comes back empty handed, and with a heavy heart. “I lied. There’s no Tajín,” he confesses, and you rush to tell him it’s okay but he beats you to it. “There’s no cucumber slices either. I just needed to get you inside to talk to you.”

“You act like I needed to be lured in, Jungkook,” you say, forcing a tight smile on your face. Jungkook visibly deflates at your tone.

“No, this isn’t right,” he huffs, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. You jump at the loud groan he releases from his position, which is face stuffed into the cushion.

“You...okay?” You tentatively ask, clutching your bag even closer to your side. Jungkook shakes his head no against the couch. “Should I call Namjoon over?”

He sits up so fast you worry he’ll get whiplash. “I have a confession to make,” he informs you, doe eyes wide and serious.

Your brain processes for a minute before slowly responding. “Okay…”

At your response he jumps to his feet. “This may come as a shock, but I’m not a womanizer.”

You blink.

“When have you ever been a womanizer, Jeon?!” You nearly exclaim when you mull over his absurd proclamation. “Are there people who actually think that?”

“I think that people think that,” he stresses to you, running a hand through his hair. “Look. I don’t mean to brag, but I’m really nice and cool, and sometimes people think that means I’m flirting with them.” Valid point. “But I’m not, because frankly I’m terrible at shooting my shot.”

The fact he’s actually admitted it out loud leaves him devastated, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Finally, something Jeon Jungkook isn’t good at.

“What lead you to that conclusion?” You carefully press on.

“Because,” he sighs, dropping back down onto the couch, except this time he’s sitting like a normal person. You sit beside him, close enough to the edge that you can just spring yourself out the door if need be.

“There’s this girl I like,” your heart pangs, even though the logical side of you can more or less guess where this is going. You’re stupid, but not that stupid. “She’s amazing, like everything about her makes me like her. God, she’s so cool, like everyone wants to be her friend, even though she sucks at Super Smash Bros., and burns her ear on a straightener at least once a month. But she’s funny and sweet, and makes me wanna join a clown troupe just to hear her laugh. And she looks gorgeous in skirts, and the way she rides dic—“

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” you interrupt, glancing at the coffee table decorated with Jungkook’s anatomy books, because you don’t want to look at the big dopey grin on his face as he talks about you and your dick riding abilities.

Jungkook grins, this much you can tell from your peripheral, before it drops into a frown. “Whole point is, she’s cool as fuck. And I… I think I might love her,” he admits, and you whip around to face him. His cheeks are as red as Taehyung’s current hair dye, which is to say they’re as red as a fire truck. You get th feeling you're mirroring his expression.

The silence following his confession seems to drag on an eternity, but truthfully, you and Jungkook both have the patience of a soccer mom of three, so he jumps to fill the spaces between you. “And like, I just wanna kiss her and hold her and watch her eat and cuddle her to sleep and hold her hand and buy her gifts, and I think I would die for her?—”

“Okay chill, Romeo,” you scramble to cut off that train of thought. Jungkook’s looking at you like you were the creative director behind Legend of Zelda: Wind Waker and the trailer released two minutes ago. It’s a weird reference but coming from Jungkook, it means a lot.

You don’t know what to say, but Jungkook beats you to it anyway. “There’s this girl I like,” he repeats, and your heart does nearly implode on itself when he reaches over to clutch your hand in his. Your hands are sweaty and fidgety from his confession, but so are Jungkook’s. “How do I tell her I like her?”

You gulp, before reaching over to smack at his bicep much to both your surprise. “Jeon Jungkook! How’re you gonna give me the best fucking of my life and then ghost me for a week, because you’re too much of a pussy to tell me you like me!” You almost want to cry, and you almost do when he wraps you in his arms with a delighted, warm laugh rumbling through his whole body. “You suck,” you huff, and sniffle once, and only once.

“Thank fuck,” he sighs in relief. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you friendzoned me.”

“The friendzone—“

“—is a made up concept created by men who feel like they’re entitled to women and their feelings, I know,” he huffs and you laugh. You push yourself away from his chest to meet his gaze, stretching up to capture his lips in a sweet kiss that quickly turns naughty when you feel the flex of muscles beneath your hands.

“Ugh, you beefcake.”

“I wish,” he snorts, tugging you back into his chest as he flops down onto the couch. You snuggle into him, the position all too comfortable in your skirt. The only reason you’re reminded of it is because Jungkook traces his fingers along the edge of the material. “You asked me why I workout out but hide in big clothes, and the truth is its so I can beat up any meninist douchebag that tries to slander my girl in her thot skirts.”

You sputter. “My thot skirts—you asshole! All my skirts are of appropriate length,” you defend, pinching his side and winning a giggle for your efforts. “That doesn’t even explain the baggy clothes part either.”

“Shh, your thot skirt is tempting me.”

“He made you dress up as a what now?!” Chaeyoung exclaims, fork clattering loudly against her plate as everyone in the diner turns to look at you two. You try desperately to quiet her, but the damage is done and even the server whose long since become familiar with your antics looks disgusted.

“Oh my god,” Chaeyoung sighs, her concern on everything but this public humiliation. “I knew it. I told you he got along too well with Jalapeño, remember?”

[ NOW WITH A DRABBLE WOW!!! ]

#kpopwonderlandtag #thekpopnetwork #jjk♡#jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeongguk smut #bts smut #jeon jeongguk #mine

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takeontaron-blog · 5 years

Text

Praise Him - A Taron Egerton Fanfic

Taron x Reader

LOTS OF FLUFF. ALL THE FLUFFY STUFF.

Taron was staring at his coffee, silent, and seemingly a bit sad. Today was the first day you’d been able to have dinner with him since the Rocket Man premiere, since he’d been so busy with press and parties since then. You had missed him terribly, as the two of you had become friends way before his days of fame. It was a lovely day, nice weather with a light breeze, and the two of you were sitting in an outdoor restaurant patio. You partially unwrapped a straw that was sitting on the table, blowing the paper wrapping at his face. He glanced up at you, smiling a little. “Really, Y/N?”

“Yes, really, Mr. Grumpy. What’s up?” Taron sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m honestly just really worn out. These last couple months have been a lot to take in.” He smiled bigger. “But I’ll be alright. Spending time with friends is definitely helping.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re like when you’re tired versus when something is actually bothering you.” You kicked him lightly under the table. “Spill.”

“It sounds so pathetic though.”

“Shut up and tell me.”

Taron laughed. “You’re such a dick sometimes, Y/N.”

“I’ll be an even bigger dick if you don’t tell me what’s upsetting you.”

“Fine, fine. It’s just, well, I worked really hard on this movie and all, and like, I’m grateful for my fans, yeah? I just, I don’t know, I’m just a little disappointed that Richard is still getting more attention than me.”

Your eyes widened and you grinned. “You’re jealous of his fangirls!”

“No, no!”

You laughed. “You are though!”

“No, it’s just that I thought I’d feel more appreciated in general -”

“Shh. I’ll get you some fangirls.” You stood up, turning from the table.

Taron grabbed your arm. “What are you going to do?” he asked, suddenly nervous. You had a tendency to do the unpredictable and although Taron enjoyed the shenanigans, it also made him anxious sometimes. You grinned and pulled away, briskly walking out onto the busy London sidewalk.

Taron jumped when you suddenly began to scream as a group of tourists was walking by being led be a tour guide. “OH MY GOD! IS THAT TARON EGERTON???!!” Everyone immediately turned in the direction you were pointing in, and suddenly Taron felt his face turn red as people started to rush over, tourists and locals alike, asking for photos, autographs, and swooning over him. You leaned against the brick wall behind you and lit up a cig, pleased with your work.

*************

“I hate you, like, a lot,” Taron stuffed his hands into his coat pocket as the two of you walked in the park after lunch.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled cheekily. “Want me to do it again? There’s a shit ton of people in this park -”

“NO! No, no, no, no,” Taron started to beg, and then you both began to laugh.

“Sorry, love, was it too much? You know I don’t really think before I act,” you gave him a quick hug.

Taron glanced down at you, not letting go post-hug as he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you to him as you continued your stroll. “It was, uhm, overwhelming, and embarrassing, and I know nobody else in this world would have done it except for you and you did it to make me happy. And also to exert your dominance, I suspect.” He winked at the last part, and you started laughing.

“I just want you to feel appreciated, even if it’s in my own weird way.”

“And you’re definitely weird,” Taron laughed, hugging you closer.

“I love you, Taron.”

Your words threw him off, and he stopped. “What?”

“I’m your biggest fan!” You threw your arms around his neck. “I’ve seen your movies like 20 times each and every time I see them I love you more and more and we should get married because I love you.”

Taron pulled your arms off him, entertained. “Stop it. Now.”

“Can I get a picture??” you pulled your phone out and started snapping selfies with him. “You’re so much hotter than Richard, you know that?”

“Stop.” He ducked to avoid the photos, so you jumped on his back.

“Taarrooon love me, Taron, will you sign my breasts?”

“For real,” he struggled to get you off of him, “If you don’t stop, I’m throwing you into that lake over there.”

You pretended to pout for a moment. “Ice cream.”

“What?” “I want ice cream. Now.”

“Only if you stop being so annoying.”

You smiled cheekily. “Deal.”

“Okay, ice cream and then we head back to my flat and watch movies for the rest of the day, yeah?” “Yeah.”

******************

Back at the flat, you stared at your phone screen while the movie played. You and Taron were sitting on the sofa, both under a duvet, relaxing. Taron looked over at you for what had to be the tenth time in the last minute.

“Y/N,” he whined playfully, “you’re not watching the movie.”

“I’m busy.”

“Doing what?” he leaned over to look at your phone screen, and saw you re-posting all the pictures and videos the people had taken with Taron at lunch that day. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

“I’m spreading the love!” you exclaimed, pretending to be put out.

“Okay, enough,” Taron began pulling your phone away when you tugged back.

“Hey, hey!” you laughed as you both began trying to pull the phone away from each other. You ended up putting your foot on Taron’s chest as you tried to push him away, and he retorted by tickling you, causing you to fall back onto the sofa laughing, still trying to keep your phone out of his reach. He attacked you then, pressing his full body onto yours and finally getting the phone, tossing it across the room onto a nearby armchair. You were still laughing as you tried pushing him off, but were surprised when you suddenly felt his teeth sink into your neck lightly.

You both stopped immediately, not so much pulling away from each other as just remaining still in the sudden silence. “What was that?” you raised an eyebrow at him, still smiling to let him know you were amused.

Taron seemed unsure of himself. “I, uh, I don’t know? I just decided to bite you, apparently.”

“Uh-huh.” You put your hands on his chest to push him back, but he remained where he was, still pinning you to the sofa under his weight. You cocked your head. “For god’s sake, Taron, what is it? You always make me pry for an answer. Tell me.”

“I....I just feel you need to pay for what you did.”

You laughed loudly. “The fuck?”

With that, Taron began tickling you again, and you began feigning interest in the movie. “Stop! We’re - missing - the - movie!” you gasped between giggles as you batted his hands away as best as you could.

“Yeah, like you care!” Taron grinned.

“I - truly - do - care!”

***************

Tickle war and movie over, you were preparing to head back to your place when Taron caught your arm as you were reaching for your purse. “Please stay tonight.”

You were genuinely concerned by this request, but only because he seemed to vulnerable in asking for it. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I just don’t feel like being alone tonight.”

You nodded and took your jacket off, folding it over the back of the nearby chair. “Can I borrow a t-shirt to sleep in?”

“Of course,” Taron smiled, and he surprised you again when he took you by the hand and walked you into his bedroom.

“You’re acting weird,” you said, breaking the silence as he handed you one of his shirts.

“You’re always acting weird,” he teased back. “Get ready for bed. I’ll make us some chamomile tea.”

You nodded, deciding maybe he was just entirely too exhausted from the film and all the press to be able to act like himself. You went into the bathroom and prepared for sleep, hugging yourself as you felt Taron’s t-shirt slip around your frame. It was warm and soft, like Taron. You felt a bit weird wearing only a shirt and your boy shorts around one of your guy friends, but at the same time Taron had always been nothing but respectful towards you, so you waved that worry away as you stepped back into the bedroom.

Taron was already in bed, a cup of tea on your bedside table waiting for you. He was shirtless and only in his boxers, and you felt a strange sensation of admiration for his body as you glanced at him. What? you chided yourself, attempting to validate your objectifying him. He’s hot, you can’t help that. You’re just thinking what everybody else does.

You slipped under the plush covers as you settled back into the soft pillows, sighing in contentment. “This is so comfortable,” you hummed as you reached for your tea, sipping the warm liquid.

Taron watched you, propped up on his elbow. “I’m glad. Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

“You’d do the same for me,” you winked.

“Always.” His voice sounded remarkably warm and velvety just then. You tried to keep a straight face as your mind raced with thoughts - was he flirting with you? No, no he couldn’t be, you two had been friends for like a decade, nah, you were just making things up. Jesus, Y/N, you thought, you really need to get laid or something so you stop making up fantasies about your guy friends. You finished your tea and set the empty cup on the bedside table, turning off the lamp which was the only light in the room.

You snuggled under the warm covers and hummed in appreciation.

“Y/N?”

“Mmmhmm?” you felt him move closer towards you, and your body tensed unexpectedly.

“Can I hold you?”

You stared at his silhouette in the darkness. “Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked again.

“I’m okay because you’re here.”

You weren’t sure exactly why, but you felt yourself moving closer to him, closer, closer still, until your face was snuggled into his neck, your body wrapped up in his arms and pressed against his warm chest. You breathed in, enjoying his natural scent and nuzzled your face against his skin. “This is comfy,” you said softly.

“It is,” Taron agreed, smiling as he nuzzled his nose in your hair. He slowly began running a hand up and down your clothed back, and you relaxed immediately in his arms. You felt yourself drifting off, calmed by his steady breathing and his heartbeat softly thumping in your ear. You were brought back suddenly when you felt Taron’s lips place a soft kiss to the side of your head, then another, a little farther down your cheek. You kept your eyes closed as he moved gently across your face, kissing the top of your forehead, then the tip of your nose, and after a moment of hesitation, your lips. It was the softest most chaste kiss you’d ever felt, and yet it was the most wonderful kiss you could remember.

Before you could consider what you were doing, you were kissing him back, and his hands immediately tightened on your body, sending sparks from your chest down to your legs.

“I want to be with you,” Taron said quietly, hands still holding you tight, his body now rigid as he anxiously waited for you to respond.

“Like, you want me, like to fuck?”

“No, I mean be with you. Like a couple. So, well, yeah then fucking would come into play, but that’s not my top priority at the moment.”

You were silent for a moment, taking in his words, letting them sink in. Taron waited patiently, not wanting to push you. After a minute, he leaned in and nuzzled his nose into yours and then held his head against yours, eyes closed as he continued to wait for you to respond.

“How long have you felt like this?” Your reply finally came.

“For a few months now. I thought maybe I was just really homesick and all since I’ve always just viewed you as a friend, but then I got back last week and seeing you today - everything just hit me really hard.” He pulled you closer into him, wrapping one of his legs around yours. The contact made you feel warm and safe. “And then you go stupid crazy just because I’m being petty about fame -” he smiled, “and, I don’t know, it made me feel loved, that you would care enough to do that for me, even if it was really annoying and made me want to throw you into a lake.”

Now you laughed, breaking the tension, and Taron laughed with you. You ran the back of your hand down his face, feeling his light stubble on your knuckles and he turned to kiss your fingers.

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I know.” You looked up at him, loving the way he eyes bore into yours even in the darkness. “Do you feel better now that you told me?”

“I feel better that you didn’t throw me off the bed.”

You smiled. “I do love you, you know.”

He nodded. “And I love you.”

“You’re going to need to court the shit out of me before I give you an answer,” you added playfully.

“Only the best for you.” Taron began kissing you again, this time more deeply, feeling more comfortable after your short talk. You wrapped your arms around his neck and bit at his lower lip, causing a low groan to come from his throat as he rolled on top of you, seemingly desperate to get as close as possible to you. You ran one hand through his hair while your other hand lightly trailed around his back, causing him to press harder into you and moan into your mouth.

He used his knee to press open your legs, his mouth still glued to yours, then settled himself between your thighs as he broke the kiss to start licking and kissing all over your neck. You moaned and writhed under him a bit, throwing your head back when he bit a spot by your collarbone.

“You like that?” he asked, obviously getting excited.

“Yeah,” you breathed, suddenly realizing he might be getting a little too excited when his hips rolled into yours and you felt his rigid cock press against your heat, remembering you were only wearing panties under the shirt. Your mind raced, trying to conclude whether or not you were going to fuck your best friend tonight, and just as Taron thrust into your hips again, you knew it wasn’t the right time for this. Not just yet.

“Taron,” you said, pushing on his chest.

“Hmmm?” he answered, lips still pressed against your neck.

“I can’t do this. Not tonight.”

He stopped immediately, lifting his head up to look at you. “Did I go too far?”

You shook your head. “Not at all. I just need a little time, yeah? I think I do want to be with you, but, let’s just take things slow for now.”

Taron beamed at you, giving you one last kiss before rolling off of you, cuddling you up against him again. “So you’re going to give me a chance?” he said, and the happiness in his voice made you melt a little.

You pressed a kiss to his adam’s apple before snuggling back into his chest. “Yes, Taron. Now let’s try to get some sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Taron whispered. “Hey, Y/N, just one more kiss?”

Requested by @rainyfoodculturealien So what if Taron is feeling a bit glum because fans seem to make a bigger deal over Richard Madden than him. So his long time friend is a bit cheeky takes it upon herself to moon over Taron and cause a fuss so he gets some attention. Later she has to pay the price and he tells her how he feels about her ;)

#taron egerton #taron egerton fanfiction #taron egerton fic #taron egerton hot #taron x reader #taron egerton x reader #taron x reader fic #taron egerton x reader fic

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flannelpunkcalum · 5 years

Text

The Devil Wears Kevlar - Part 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

I’ve been excited to post this chapter for WEEKS you guys are hopefully gonna love it. also not to spoil it or anything but CONTENT WARNING: this chapter contains violence ok that is all. pls enjoy and let me know what you thought! 4k words

“Dick Grayson, you’re a brilliant actor.”

It had been all too easy to get into the kitchens. Aspen had pretended Dick was nervous something bad was waiting for him around the corner after his scare, and chefs are usually pretty kind-hearted, they melted. For their troubles, Aspen and Dick got a plate full of the edge pieces of brownies and cheesecake bites - not fit to serve to guests, but more than good enough for them.

They eat them in a stairwell in a hall just off the ballroom, where they’re close enough to the action and can keep from being late.

“That was the performance of a lifetime.” She continues, reaching for another brownie. Dick smiles quietly at her around a mouthful of dessert. He’s a bit of an oddball, if she’s honest, but then again so was she at that age. He’s good company, she’ll say that much. “You get dragged to a lot of these fundraisers?”

Dick nods. “D’you ever mind?” Aspen asks again. She knows she would have. She’d been a sullen fucking kid.

“No, it’s what’s right, for me to do this. It’s important work. There’s no point in catching - like, having the police catch criminals without making sure there are ways for people to survive without having to become criminals in the first place.”

Aspen’s surprise must show, because Dick glances away, like he’s embarrassed. “At least, that’s what Calum says.”

“Nah, man, that’s such an intelligent way to look at it. You’re very- see, I was going to say mature, but that makes it sound like all adults think like that, and we both know that’s not true. Dick Grayson, I’m honoured to be your partner in crime.”

Aspen had been joking, but he almost falls down the stairs laughing at that. She didn’t know it was that funny, but she’ll take it.

It’s not nearly long enough before she gets a text from Calum Hood telling her to bring Dick and come to the ballroom, the guests are showing up. He does not remember putting in his number under anything other than “Work”, so she’s confused immediately. “I didn’t know your dad had this number,” she frowns, and when Dick avoids her eyes she assumes it’s because of how she addressed Calum. “I mean your guardian, I guess. Your parental unit. Hey, look at me, need you to check me for crumbs.”

They make sure they have no chocolate in the corners of their mouths before they head back into the fray. The room looks a little less intimidating with a lower concentration of cops in, and what she can only imagine is Gotham’s hottest string quartet is playing something that sounds like Rachmaninoff. It’s not so bad.

As soon as she sees Dick head across the ballroom to Calum, she slides back to her table with the stoic police officer she met before. Officer Montoya, she remembers. “I miss anything good?” She asks cheerfully, and as Montoya shakes her head Aspen slides a bit of brownie wrapped in a napkin over to her.

They get along a lot better after that.

Donations start to trickle in. Well, not exactly trickle, since the men and women visiting her little table are giving money to the orders of thousands. Aspen had been prepared for that, she thought, but watching people put down a year’s rent in one go in making her lightheaded. Still, she nods and smiles, and no one looks too long at her, which is exactly what she wanted.

Still, it’s almost five thirty, and she’s getting antsy like this. The champagne being passed around looks more and more inviting each time a waiter passes by their table. Calum looks distracted, so she snags a flute off a tray while he’s talking to some other couple dripping with money, and after she takes a sip she places it on the floor by the leg of her chair. Just so none of the guests think they’re giving their money to some lush. Watever. Mr. Hood is drinking, so she’s probably allowed to have just a little, right?

Plus, Aspen never feels more extravagant than when she’s day drinking. She deserves to have a little fun at this thing, just a bit.

Things have been relatively quiet so far, but as Calum steps up to a podium to give his talk she sits up a little straighter. People are undoubtedly going to be inspired by whatever he has to say, so she’s got to be prepared. She takes a more substantial sip of bubbly as he starts to speak, since she’s sure she’ll have her hands full in just a second.

(Sidenote: Aspen loves champagne.)

It turns out that Calum is an eloquent guy, when he wants to be. Aspen’s about two minutes away from digging a five out of her own purse as he waxes poetic about the kids who have to go to school hungry, work to keep a roof over their family’s heads, or beg in alleys. She’s encouraged to see how many diamond earrings are bobbing along to this, how many people look pleased with how generous he’s says they could be. Everyone wants to be good, she thinks, somewhere deep down, even if it’s just to them and theirs. And these people, they’re powerful, they think Gotham is theirs.

Sometimes, when he snaps at her, Aspen forgets how smart Calum Hood is. Right now, as he’s gently wrapping Gotham’s one percent around his finger, she can’t forget it.

She really wants more champagne, as if that would help anything, but she resists as he starts to close his speech. “Gotham’s present may seem… brutal,” He says, with just the right amount of sorrow in his voice, “but together you and I can assure its bright future. When you have a moment, my assistant is waiting to take your donations right after she takes mine. Any amount is welcome, and please, for the kids’ sake, be generous. Enjoy the music!” He adds, and as he soon as he steps aside he makes a beeline for the table.

Aspen golf-claps politely for him as he comes over, and she sees him smile, like he’s bashful, as if he didn’t know he had the whole room in a bind. His guests are still applauding for him as he steps over to her, for fuck’s sake. “I’m truly moved, sir.” She says, starting to type his information into the tablet.

“You’re sweet,” He says, and Aspen misspells his last name just from that.

She corrects herself quickly enough. “I’m honest.” She shrugs, and fixes her eyes back on him. “And how much would you like to donate today, sir?”

“Match it.”

“What?”

“Whatever amount is there. Match it.”

Aspen can be a little dramatic, she says she’s going to go into convulsions or have a heart attack all the time, but this time she actually almost falls out of her chair. “That’s-”

“Match it.”

His look at her leaves no room for argument, so Aspen bites back her response. She knows he’ll see her look and that always seems to speak volumes, between them. “Cash or cheque?” She jokes- thankfully, since he pulls out a chequebook and not a bag of notes like some cartoon bank robber.

Aspen doesn’t watch as he writes out all the zeros on the cheque, she knows she’ll get nauseous. Montoya’s got a damn good poker face, she’ll say that much. When Calum’s done he draws back, but he doesn’t move to leave just yet. “You’re drinking?”

“What?” Aspen blinks. Calum taps his foot against the leg of the table, right next to her flute of champagne. Oh. Suppose she’s caught, then. “You’re drinking.” She says, instead, and fixes her gaze on him. She has to curl her hand into a fist under the desk to maintain it, but he doesn’t know it.

For once, for fucking once, he breaks first. “Fair enough.”

It’s better than champagne, this feeling, but Aspen tries not to show it. “I’m done for now, anyways, I just wanted to taste.” She shrugs. “Gotta stay sharp.”

Calum smiles. “I’ll check in before the dinner.” He says, but doesn’t sound like a warning. It doesn’t sound like just business, either. Aspen doesn’t think about what that leaves.

She focuses on her job, after that. I mean, she was focusing before, but now she’s- fuck. Whatever. She takes the money, she says thank you in her sweetest voice, she makes the donors feel good for what they’ve done. Maybe they deserve it. Aspen doesn’t know if she trusts the rich, not right now, but she can be kind for an afternoon.

She’s aching for another drink by the time guests start to filter out from the ballroom, but she keeps her hands on the table and her smile on her face while she puts down another Drake’s name. Some family, goddamn. When she finally finds time to look around, the room is almost empty. Thank god.

She stands up and stretches, arms about her head. Her back cracks, and Montoya jumps, swears beside her. “Sorry,” Aspen says, as she sits back down and they start to count up the cheques. Aspen has to make a note of someone who said they'd offer $5000 but only wrote a cheque for $500, but it still says “five thousand” on that one line, but that's all that's wrong and Aspen is elated. She expected a robbery or something, anything to justify the security, but this is good too. Now she's confident that the guests have all climbed into their limos and gone to the second leg of the gala, and she's almost - almost! - free to go.

“I'm gonna find Mr. Hood and tell him how much we made so we can go home.” She announces, standing up and trekking across the ballroom. He doesn’t seem to be anywhere, at first glance, and Aspen has to ask two waiters and some unrelated bodyguard until she gets directed towards an office. The door is open a crack and Calum’s there, he’s talking to T. Giordano (Aspen read the nameplate). When she explains that she’s only there to bring Mr. Hood up to speed, T. Giordano lets them use her office while she oversees the end of the event. Aspen’s so pleased about this; she hasn’t slouched in hours, her back feels all sort of wrong.

Calum’s had some rough days, but he looks genuinely happy as Aspen steps into the office. He’s not smiling, but there’s a lightness in his shoulders she hasn’t seen for days. “I think it’s good news, sir.” She says carefully, holding out the tablet in front of her. “I mean, it’s more than you raised last year, so that’s something.”

He takes the tablet from her and looks it over, smiling just a little. “What’s this category, the one just-”

She steps over to his side to look. “Oh, I did a column of all the amounts we actually got from the people, just to make sure there were no problems with the cheques - actually, if you see-”

“I’ll deal with it.” He says. “Thank you for your help today, Aspen, I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”

He is sweet, but flattery isn’t something Aspen is likely to fall for. “I just watched people write cheques, sir. This was always your event,” and maybe it’s the champagne that’s made her brave but she bumps him with her hip - maybe it’s just because this is the first time she’d been close enough to do it.

Whatever the reason, that’s what sets it off.

Calum’s head snaps over to look at her. They’re leaning against the edge of T. Giordano’s desk, but when Aspen sees the look in his eyes she straightens up a little. Maybe she shouldn’t have done that. He’s putting down the tablet as she starts to apologize. “Sorry if that was inappropriate, it’s been a long day.” She shrugs.

He’s standing right in front of her. “Don’t worry about it.” He says, and when the absence of any scolding in his voice makes her look up he’s giving her this look she’s never seen, like he’s trying to set her soul on fire. His brows are creased, like it hurts, and he huffs out a little breath she doesn’t dare try to interpret. “Can I just-” He says, and reaches out and puts one hand on her waist.

Her eyes are locked on his, but she can feel her chest heave with shallow breaths, feels his hand shift a little with each one. “Yes,” is all she can say, even though there was no question.

Slowly, Calum uses his hold on her hip to drag himself in, and he lowers his head. Before Aspen can remember why she shouldn’t - he’s your boss he’s insane he’s a player and you’re just - he fits his mouth to hers and they are kissing.

There’s nothing rough about this. No teeth. Nothing tears. Just the soft press of his lips against hers and the deep sign he lets out against her cheek. He’s testing again, to see how where she’ll let this go. Yes, she thinks, yes, and she lets him pull himself so close she can feel the heat off his body, and cup her chin gently. He turns her head, just a little, as their lips move against each other like whispers.

Aspen isn’t usually pliant, but she moves with him. His lips are soft against hers, and the way he feels against her- she’d follow that fucking anywhere. This feels like everything she wanted, and she reaches out and finds the back of his neck, pulls him closer, to kiss him deeper, and-

It sounds like a gasp as he pulls away and grabs her wrist, tearing her hand off his skin before she’s even opened her eyes. They’re both panting, blinking in the light, and Aspen won’t be mad about this as long as he lets her kiss him again, she swears, just- “What?”

He’s not looking at her when he says “We can’t do this. You’re drunk.”

A different kind of burning settles into her chest. “I’ve had half a glass of champagne, I’m not-”

“Then I’m drunk.” He interrupts her, though his hand is still on her waist. Aspen tries to tug her wrist out of his grip, but he’s holding tight to that, too.

Aspen wasn’t looking for this and she knows how it goes, when some secretary falls for their boss. She’s the one in danger, not him, and if he says he doesn’t want- if that’s what he wants, then… “If you say so.”

The room seems dead silent, now, so that every word she says almost echoes around the room. Calum feels it too. He shudders a little and lets go of her, all of her, and draws back.

They collect themselves. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but they find things to adjust and fix so they don’t have to look at each other. Aspen straightens out her cardigan, moves away from the desk like it’s a trap. She watches Mr. Hood smooth imaginary wrinkles out of his jacket, and when he turns to face her again it’s like a door has closed somewhere inside of him. Whatever light had been in his face is gone.

She doesn’t want to let it scare her, but - her job, his kiss, there’s so much she needs from him.

She waits for him to speak.

“We should put this behind us.” He says, finally. Aspen didn’t expect anything less, but hearing it out loud - it stings. “This was a mistake.”

That’s worse. There’s a lot Aspen can take, but right now, while she’s still got the taste of him in her mouth… She feels white-hot angry, just for a second, and then she collects herself. “Don’t worry about it.” She says, in a voice that’s way too sweet. She turns to the tablet, so she doesn’t have to see how he reacts. “‘S only a mistake if you let it happen again, right?”

“What?”

She hates the idea of looking at him right now, so she stays facing the desk. “Like - it’s only a mistake if you don’t learn from it, if you let it happen again, so don’t worry about it, I’ll see you Monday, I’m gonna-”

He spins her around in one movement and this time when he kisses her it is rough, but she’s angry too and she tangles her fingers in his hair as soon as she knows what’s happening. He’s pressed his tongue into her mouth and his hands are tight around her hips, strong enough to hold her there. He’s pressed right up against her, crowding her against the desk, and she kisses him back like she wants the air out of his lungs. His teeth catch at her lower lip and she opens her mouth a little wider for him, just so he please won’t stop.

It’s so good, but it’s too intense, and after a long moment they break apart and rest their foreheads together, still panting into each other’s mouths. They’ve still got their nails dug into each other, but Aspen can feel something more than lust and chemicals between them, and as he meets her eyes-

He steps back, like he’s been shoved. “There.” He says, but his usual sureness has melted and she can see his eyes flicker, like he’s nervous. “Now it’s a mistake.”

He’s gone before she can reply.

Aspen doesn’t remember too much, after that. She knows what she did, mostly, to get herself out of the botanical gardens and into a cab, but it’s a blur of smiling and excuses when she tries to think back to who she talked to or what she said. It doesn’t matter, really. She doesn’t scream and she doesn’t cry and she gets in a taxi and really that’s all she needs.

When she has to tell the driver to take her to Hood Enterprises, she almost stutters over Calum’s last name. It hurts, a little, because she wanted this, even though she knew this would happen. Did she think she could handle it? She didn’t love this job, but she was good at it and it payed damn well, and- she might have to quit. Fuck, she hadn’t started this with the intention of leaving before a month was up, but-

Before she can finish that thought they’re at Hood Enterprises headquarters. All she wants is to go in, listen to a few phone calls, and go home, but as soon as she enters the lobby-

“Aspen!”

Shit.

“What do you want.” She says to Liam, too tired to hide her anger. She doesn’t need this right now.

“Is Mr. Hood coming back tonight?”

Aspen doesn’t flinch when she hears his name, but it’s a near thing. “No, he’s not. Now, please, get out of my way, Liam, I just want to go home.” When she tries to push past him, Liam moves to block her, and when she looks at him properly she sees that he’s got what are very near tears in his eyes. “Wait, what’s wrong? What’s going on?”

Liam runs a hand through his hair and doesn’t meet her gaze. “Aspen… I really, really fucked up. I dunno if I can fix it. In sales, I- can you come? Please? I need-” He breaks off, his voice about to crack.

“How’m I supposed to help you out with sales, Liam, I’m not-” She shakes her head. Liam just gave her his biggest saddest eyes he’s got.

Well, shit. Aspen is mad at Liam for everything he did, but that doesn’t mean she can just turn her back on him. She doesn’t want to be the reason he’s fired, after all. They used to be friends, and she guesses some part of her misses that. After a long moment she sighs and checks the time on her phone. “I can’t stay long.” She says quietly.

Liam almosts lifts off the ground, he’s so relieved. “Thank you so much.” He says, stepping aside so he can lead her towards the elevator.

“I don’t know what you expect me to be able to do, Liam, you know I’m useless when it comes to econ.” She’s been through enough today, she’s not gonna let herself get carried away.

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Really. Aspen, you’re - thanks.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Aspen mumbles as he presses the button and the doors close. They start moving down - wait, down? “Why are we headed to the parking garage?” She glances at him, reaching for the panel of buttons. “What floor do you work on aga-”

The attack is sudden, and it feels so brutal that years later it’s still one of her nightmares.

Liam grabs her arm before she can finish her sentence, sliding around her so it twists behind her back all in one move, pushing her front up against the wall of the elevator in one smooth move. She gasps, but before she can panic properly she remembers to fight back. Even as Liam’s weight crushes her lungs, she jerks back with her free elbow, hitting some soft part of Liam’s torso behind her. She feels his breath on her neck as she strikes out again, again.

There’s one thought running through her head; she’s not gonna die like this. She’s not.

Liam presses her arm further up her back, sending enough pain through her shoulder to make her whole body buckle. But he’s backed off a little, out of elbow range, so as soon as Aspen hears the door open she pushes off the wall with her whole body to get out of his grip.

She must surprise him, because it works. She pushes him off enough to shake out of his grip, runs for the grey concrete of the parking lot. Liam’s footsteps echo behind her, but she’s fast, she can-

Liam tackles her with his full weight. As Aspen hits the ground she skids, palms stinging. Shit. She tries to get her knees under herself, but Liam’s got her pinned and he flips her over to her back easy - he’s twice her fucking size! She tries to punch him, but he catches her wrist slams it to the grounds about her head. The other one follows.

Aspen’s gasping for air and trying to take stock. Liam is straddling her, he’s got her wrists pinned above her head and even now he moves so that he’s got both of them in one hand. He’s reaching into a pocket for something and she doesn’t want to know what. “Liam,” she says, “don’t, Liam, I- help!”

Liam swears, and she feels him ruck up one side of her cardigan, bunching it up past her elbow. Her blood goes cold. She screams again, but this time she can’t find any words for this.. She looks around as best she can, but the lot is empty of cars.

It’s just her. She’s alone.

A scraping sound catches her attention, and when she looks back at Liam he’s pulling the plastic cover off a syringe with his teeth. She struggles against his grip. What else can she do? “Fuck, Liam, don’t- what are you doing-”

“Please stay still, please, okay, I don’t want to hurt you.” He says.

Then he plunges the needle into her arm.

Aspen fucking wails, and yes, she knows its undignified, but she can feel whatever was in that syringe flow through her bicep and it’s a living horror. Liam throws the weapon away and rolls off her, but by the time she drags herself up on her elbows she can guess what he shot into her veins. Everything feels heavy - her head is too much for her neck, and she almost collapses before Liam gathers her into his arms.

She hates him.

He’s murmuring something - it takes effort to tune in, like the world is a radio. Something… he’s sorry? “Fuck you,” Aspen murmurs. She’s too tired for this. She just needs to- for a second- just-

She closes her eyes.

#cw: violence #My writing #ch blurb #calum hood fic #calum hood series #5sos fic #5sos series #tdwk #tdwk6 #ceo!cal #batman!au #also liams in this one

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fromthedeskofelizabeththird · 5 years

Text

The Centre of Attention

This is a commissioned piece for @jihyxnkim, thank you for your support!

They asked for Zen x V x CMC smut featuring their OC, Minyeong.

Mystic Messenger | Zen x CMC x V | Explicit

~~~

Deadlines sucked at the best of times, and this was certainly not one of them.

It felt as if Minyeong had been struggling over the same set of panels for several years, even if they knew for a fact it had only been a matter of days. Drawing action sequences was far more complicated than it ought to have been and they spotted new mistakes every time they set down their pen. Someone’s arm would be at an impossible angle; one particular panel would be unclear. It was just one page and it ought to have been simple, but the closer their deadline came, the messier their sketches seemed to become.

It felt as if they had been locked away in their study forever, and they leaned back in their chair with a heartfelt sigh, stretching out their arms and legs and staring at the sketch on their computer monitor. They rubbed their eyes and got up from the desk, meaning to get a glass of water from the kitchen and hopefully restore what little motivation they had had from the beginning. Maybe, just maybe, they would come back into their studio and find that their linework had been perfect all along.

Minyeong stepped out into the corridor and took a left, stretching their arms up high over their head and breaking out into a yawn despite themselves. Something somewhere smelled delicious and it didn’t take them long to figure out what. The mouthwatering scent of stir fry greeted them as they stepped into the kitchen, along with the telltale crackle of a frying pan.

Zen stood at the kitchen counter, stirring with one hand and pointing out spices with the other. Jihyun pored over the spice rack, lifting up whichever containers he was asked for.

Minyeong’s fiance had a lot of skills, but cooking wasn’t one of them. He was relegated to rice cooker duties more often than not. Zen, on the other hand, was good enough for all three of them, perhaps in part because he had spent so long cooking for himself and making the most of cheap ingredients.

They opened their mouth to announce their presence, only for their stomach to gurgle loudly and do so for them. Zen and Jihyun turned to them, each breaking out into a smile.

“How long have I been in there?” Minyeong groaned, all too aware that when they went away to work, Jihyun had still been eating breakfast. “Are you making dinner?”

Jihyun set down a jar of red pepper flakes and rushed over to greet them, wrapping his arms around their waist and resting his chin on the top of their head.

“You need to take more breaks,” he said. “When we moved in together, I rather hoped I’d see you more often.”

“Yeah,” piped up Zen, still stirring the pot, “you might get carpal tunnel.”

Minyeong glanced from one to the other: their boyfriend, who went back to work a day after breaking his leg; their fiance, who sometimes fell asleep on the floor of his own studio.

“Okay, as much as I love you both, neither one of you is qualified to complain about me overworking.”

Zen at least pretended to pout. Jihyun, by comparison, found their outburst more amusing than anything else.

“So did you manage to make any progress?” He asked, letting go of them and heading back to the stove.

“Nah,” they said, reaching into the cupboard for plates. “I just can’t get the transition right. Like I can see it in my head, but the moment I get it on paper…”

They shrugged, grabbing a stack of plates and crossing the room to set them down on the kitchen counter. By now just thinking about the fight sequence made them tired.

“Seems like you need a distraction,” said Zen, switching off the power and moving to plate up, all while Minyeong took a seat at the dining table.

“I need something,” they said, flopping down and resting their head on their arms. “At this rate I’ll never get it in on time.”

“I have just the thing,” said Zen. “Hold still.”

Minyeong raised an eyebrow and watched as he and Jihyun set the table. Zen hovered behind them, so close that when Minyeong lifted their head to look up at him, the back of their head rested against his stomach.

“Hold still,” he said again, before reaching down and stroking his fingers over their back and shoulders, working out each and every knot.

“Where did you learn that?” They asked, sighing into his touches.

“Here and there...where next?”

Jihyun took a sip of wine, admiring Minyeong’s half lidded eyes and urges for Zen to move there...right there...breaking out into moans when he hit exactly the right spot.

It was innocent enough, though as was almost always the case, it was only a matter of time before it became more.

“I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep making noises like that,” said Zen, leaving Minyeong to shoot him a wry smile.

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Who says I want you to stop?”

They had a deadline, that much was clear, but right then they were only too happy to fall into escapism.

Zen laughed, so softly that it sounded like a growl. He leaned over to offer Minyeong a hand, only to lift them over his shoulder the moment they made contact. They squealed in a combination of delight and surprise, watching the kitchen disappear into the distance as Zen carried them off to the bedroom. Jihyun followed suit, closing the bedroom door behind them as Zen dropped them down onto the bed.

Minyeong gasped as their body hit the mattress, watching as Zen peeled off his shirt and Jihyun took a seat next to them on the bed. He helped them up into a sitting position, sliding a hand under their shirt and dragging it over their shoulders.

Zen got to his knees as Jihyun crushed his lips to Minyeong’s, pulling at the fastenings of their bra. He tossed it aside without much care for where it landed, running his finger tips over their exposed breasts. Minyeong gasped, having spent so long in their study of late that they had lost track of exactly how much they had missed the attention. More specifically, being the center of it.

Zen rested their legs over his shoulder and dragged at the waistband of their jeans, slipping them off and casting them over his shoulder. He spread their legs wide, so wide that Minyeong couldn’t help but blush, holding his hands firm against their hips and running his tongue over their clit.

Minyeong gasped, breaking their lips away from Jihyun’s at the sudden contact. Jihyun’s response was to plant kisses across their jawline, running his finger tips over their nipples.

They had gotten used to the subtleties in their actions; the difference between them that no outsider would know. Zen was rougher and far more impatient, while Jihyun was a people pleaser even in the bedroom, falling in line with whoever else took the lead. He grazed his teeth over Minyeong’s neck at precisely the same time Zen pushed the tip of his tongue against their clit with far more force than before.

They gasped, bucking their hips off the bed without meaning to, though never getting very far. Zen took the chance to suck them harder, burying his lips and tongue even deeper. Minyeong gripped the bedcovers, barely noticing as Jihyun eased them down onto their back. They stared up at the ceiling, unable to think of anything but the wet sounds of Zen’s tongue against their cunt.

“How is that?” He murmured, his breath hot against their folds.

Minyeong knew damn well he already knew the answer.

“Good,” they murmured, “but it could be better.”

“Oh?”

They could hear the challenge in his voice and it left butterflies in their stomach.

“The pair of you are wearing far too many clothes for my liking.”

Zen peered up from his position at the foot of the bed and across at Jihyun, who had already loosened half of his shirt buttons and currently fiddled with his belt buckle.

“I see how it is,” he said, letting go of Minyeong’s legs for the time being and getting up to remove the rest of his clothes. He unbuttoned the rest of Jihyun’s shirt, shooting them a knowing glance as he dropped it onto the nearest chair.

He rested against the bed to drag off his own pants and kicked them aside without any sort of grace, Minyeong only too aware when his bare skin brushed against their legs. Even though he had long since let go, they still left them parted, desperate for either one of them to address the growing ache inside of them.

Zen crouched down onto his knees to tug at Jihyun’s waistband, dragging both his pants and underwear to his knees and smirking as Jihyun’s hardened cock sprang free. Jihyun was incredibly good at hiding exactly how hard he actually was, which proved a never end source of amusement. He only ever started to beg and plead at the point of no return, when he was about to come all over himself and anyone else nearby.

Zen dropped his own boxers, leaving them both naked in front of Minyeong, who sucked in a single breath in anticipation of what was to come.

“Enjoy the view?” Zen purred, inhaling sharply as Jihyun reached out to give his cock a gentle tug.

“You have no idea,” said Minyeong, only to giggle as they actually approached.

Jihyun reached for their hand and guided them up onto their knees and up towards the middle of the bed. Zen laid back down behind them, shuffling up the bed and easing their thighs apart until he could comfortably fit his head between them. Minyeong gasped as he slapped their ass without a moment’s hesitation and ran his tongue over their folds, so close to where they needed him that they barely noticed the sting.

Jihyun sat up in front of them, placing a hand at the back of their neck as he kissed them, with the other roaming their body. Minyeong reached for his cock and he moaned into their open mouth, all while Zen swirled a figure eight over their clit with his tongue.

“You taste so good,” he whined. “I’m so glad we chose this over dinner.”

Minyeong and Jihyun both giggled, remembering the hot food that they had abandoned in the heat of the moment.

“That’s what microwaves are for,” said Minyeong, too far gone to even entertain the idea of pulling their clothes back on and doing anything else.

Jihyun eased them forward, sighing in pleasure as Minyeong grabbed onto his waist to steady their weight. They reached for his cock and ran their tongue from shaft to tip before wrapping their lips around the first few inches, squeezing him tightly as they moved to take even more.

He sighed in delight at every touch, stroking his fingers through their hair to urge them to continue. Minyeong tried to match their every touch to the rhythm of Zen’s tongue against their folds and moaning into every sensation. Before they knew it they were grinding their hips over his face, squirming into his touches even as they pumped at Jihyun’s cock.

The ache inside of them was too much to bear. It weighed on their every thought and action, every touch to their clit and burn of the bedcovers under their knees. Every touch sent them tighter- a spring deep inside of them that threatened to unravel at any second.

They came delightfully slowly, holding their hips in place and gripping onto Jihyun so tightly that their nails scraped against his skin. He stroked their hair, though, so taken over by the feel of their lips against his cock that the pain barely phased him.

Minyeong gasped at the flutters deep inside of them, flutters so strong and deep that they felt them all of the way from their stomach to their cunt to their ass. They let go of Jihyun and took a deep breath, letting the ripples of pleasure flow through them.

When they fell still, Zen guided them back across the bed and down towards his middle. Minyeong blushed, knowing what was about to come, Jihyun got up and rifled through the bedroom drawer, dragging out two condoms and handing one to them as he put the first on himself. Minyeong shuffled further down the bed, shooting Zen a knowing look before sliding it onto his hard cock. He gave them a non too subtle wink in response, pulling them back across the bed and holding out a hand so that they could steady their weight as they sank down onto his cock.

Even in the aftermath of coming so forcefully, he stretched them in ways that only satisfied them more. Minyeong took him in slowly, adjusting their weight and rocking forward, sinking the nail of their free hand into their breasts. It felt so good-too much and yet not enough.

They turned to Jihyun, motioning for him to come closer and finish off what they’d started.

They had tried this particular movement only once before in the past. It was daunting, to say the least. Luckily Minyeong was blessed with patient lovers, neither of whom minded putting lewd ideas on the back burner when necessary.

Minyeong rocked their body on Zen’s dick, slowly and tentatively, though never nervously. When they had gotten into a comfortable motion, they leaned forward, resting one hand on the bed and the other on Zen.

Jihyun took a step forward and reached for their hips, gently pushing his tip at their entrance until it was stretched enough that he could slide it in. All three of them moaned at the intense sensation-Jihyun’s dick pressed tightly against Zen’s in an already tight space.

“Oh my god,” moaned Minyeong, leaning back into Jihyun. “Oh my god…”

It took some getting used to; Minyeong had come so hard that they felt everything with several more layers of intensity. They felt the sting as they reached the base of both cocks; the quiver as they rubbed each one of their sensitive spots. They didn’t know what to say, nor how to describe it and so settled for letting their body do the talking, picking up a steady rhythm and growing faster as their confidence grew.

“Oh shit,” Zen groaned, “oh sh---”

He was the first to come and Minyeong felt it; a twitching deep inside of them as he reached up to grip their breast. Jihyun came only fractionally later, gripping onto their waist and holding them still as he moaned numerous, garbled praises. Their moans and the pressure inside of them was enough to leave Minyeong rocking on their knees with even more force than before, chasing the building need inside of them until they saw white.

Their cry was the loudest, echoed by both men as their walls tightened around their cocks.

In that moment, there was no deadline, no comic panel, no sketchbook. There was only them, panting in the silent room.

Well, not silent for long.

Minyeong opened their mouth to crack a joke, only to be interrupted by the increasingly insistent growling of their stomach. Then, and only then, did anyone remember how hungry they had actually been.

~~~

“Like that? No… no..like that.”

Minyeong did not go back to their computer, instead forwarding an incredibly apologetic email to their editor before curling up in bed with a plateful of microwaved stir fry, which had never tasted so good.

Jihyun and Zen stood at the foot of the bed, stretching out their arms and legs in poses of their choosing, all while Minyeong sketched at lightning speed.

“Like this?”

Zen held out an arm in a pretend punch.

“Yes, perfect,” said Minyeong. “Now Jihyun, put your hand on his chest.”

They had been only too enthusiastic to pose for references.

“Yes, just like that!”

Miyeong didn’t know how to tell them that they had become so preoccupied with their naked bodies that in the end they hadn’t drawn anything.

#mystic messenger #mysme #jihyun kim #zen #hyun ryu #v #zen x mc x v

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kpopfanfictrash · 7 years

Text

No Strings (II)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: You / Jimin

Rating: 18+ (smut)

Word Count: 3,411

Summary: It started off as such a simple question. How to know if you’re bad in bed? Of course when you asked, you didn’t imagine Jimin would actually answer.

“I’m just saying!” Seokjin chews noisily through his complaint. “Why is it called a Monte Cristo? Who decided that? For that matter, who decided to take a perfectly good sandwich and drop it in the deep fryer?”

Jimin shrugs, taking a bite of his normal turkey sandwich. “I don’t know, man.”

“Not that I’m complaining,” Seokjin says, barreling on. “It’s just strange. It seems like the sandwich should never have happened in the first place, you know?

“Kind of like this conversation,” you say, pushing a fry around the edge of your plate.

“Damn, Y/N.” Seokjin snorts. “Savage today.”

“Today… every day.” Jimin takes another bite. “What’s the difference, really?”

You offer a smile, although it does not reach your eyes. Jimin sits across from you, Seokjin beside you; these are your normal spots for lunch but for some reason, it feels strange. It should not; you and Jimin are still just friends, the same as this morning.

Except, not really because now you have seen Jimin naked, have heard the moan he makes when he comes and things are very different than before. Every time he looks up, you think he is looking at you. He is not, of course he is not; Jimin remains remarkably calm seated across from you, whereas you are barely holding it together. It is hard not to wonder if Jimin thinks the same things that you do, if he replays the same actions, the same moments as you. Shaking your head, you stop yourself. Of course he is not – there is no way Jimin is thinking about your lips on his, his hands on your body, his thighs –

“Y/N.” Seokjin waves a hand, looking pointedly at the waiter. “Did you want a box for that?”

You glance at the half-eaten sandwich before you. “Uh, yeah, that’d be great.”

The waiter takes your food away, leaving the three of you to sit there in silence. Seokjin slurps happily on his soda – a combination of Fanta and Coke you have long since grown accustomed to. “So, what’re we doing tonight?” he asks, setting his cup down. “What movie were you guys watching earlier?”

“Kingsman.”

“The Notebook.”

You and Jimin stare at each other.

“We watched both,” you correct, cheeks hot. “First Kingsman, then the Notebook.”

Jimin nods, gaze sliding to Seokjin. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird,” he says.

Seokjin laughs. “Okay, so neither of those. What if we go out?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I’m kind of tired and was thinking of staying in.”

Jimin cocks his head to one side. “Really?” he asks, expression unreadable. “I think a bar sounds like fun.”

“Then you go,” you say, making a face. “I’m not your mom or your girlfriend, Park.”

Jimin’s gaze narrows and Seokjin leans both elbows to the table. “Oooooooh,” he chuckles. “Y/N is savage today.”

Jimin arches a brow. “Fine. I’ll go.” He looks over at Seokjin. “Does Minsun want to come, too?”

Minsun is your roommate, Seokjin’s girlfriend. Seokjin shrugs, pulling out his phone. “Let me ask.”

Leaning back in your seat, you cross both arms over your chest. Staring at Jimin while Seokjin types, Jimin smiles back in an insolent manner. He bends, taking a long sip of his milkshake as he sucks on the straw.

Your eyes narrow in response to this torture. “So, did Minsun respond?” you ask, tearing yourself away from Park Jimin’s mouth.

“Yeah, she’s in.” Seokjin is still typing. “She doesn’t want to drive, though.”

Beneath the table, Jimin’s knee touches yours. Your breath hitches, doing your best to hide it.

“I can drive,” Jimin says, pressing his leg even closer. “I don’t mind being sober.”

“Okay,” Seokjin agrees, putting down his phone. “I’ll let her know. You sure you don’t want to come, Y/N?”

“I’m sure,” you say through gritted teeth. “I’m fine staying home.”

Because if Jimin is just going to be a dick, you do not want to around him. What you really want is to consider your feelings alone, since what happened earlier was a horrible idea. You should have known better than to think that Jimin would drop it.

Should have known better than to think you would not want to do it again.

Exhaling under your breath, you grab for your purse. “Seokjin, let me out. I have to use the restroom.”

Nodding, Seokjin slides free from the booth. While navigating your way to the back of the restaurant, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket, display lighting up to a familiar name.

Jimin: Hey, are you mad at me? [2:34 PM]

Y/N: No. [2:37 PM]

Jimin: Lol [2:38 PM]

Jimin: that was the most passive aggressive answer ever [2:39 PM]

He is correct. Stifling a grin, you type back.

Y/N: Maybe if you weren’t being such an ass, I wouldn’t have to act like one [2:40 PM]

Jimin: What?? How am I being an ass? [2:40 PM]

Instead of responding, you send a picture of yourself with one eyebrow raised and Jimin texts you back laughter.

Jimin: Okay, okay. So the knee under the table was a bit much [2:41 PM]

Y/N: You think? [2:42 PM]

Jimin: Rarely. [2:42 PM]

A snort escapes you, followed by a sigh.

Y/N: Look. [2:42 PM]

Glancing up, your thumbs drum against the keyboard. You have been gone for a while and soon, Seokjin will know something is up.

Y/N: I just want things to be normal, okay? Sorry about this afternoon… I didn’t mean to make things weird between us [2:43 PM]

There is silence from the other end, a long pause while you lean your head to the wall and stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is still kind of a mess, something you did not realize earlier but now are wondering if Seokjin did. Probably not – he would have said something to you if he had and before you can follow that train of thought, your phone vibrates in your hand.

Jimin: I didn’t mean to make things weird either. Sorry for being a jerk :( [2:44PM]

At his sad little frowny face, you laugh. Jimin’s expression is practically visible in your mind; you know he is not that upset, know he is already over this afternoon and moving on to the next thing. You should do the same.

Y/N: Lol fine. Anyways, I really do have to go to the bathroom. See you out there [2:44 PM]

Jimin: Good luck ^.^ [2:45 PM]

When you get back to the table, your sandwich is already wrapped and waiting. Seokjin hands you the box, already walking towards the door.

“We got you this time,” Jimin says as he passes.

Chatter resumes in the car – it is easier, now that you and Jimin have talked. Once in the passenger seat, you unwrap your sandwich, suddenly famished. As you eat, you draw your feet onto the seat and earn a noise of protest from Seokjin.

“Hey,” he complains. “Your feet are on my car.”

“Like you never put your feet up in my car,” you grumble but still, you lower them to the ground. “Double standards.”

Jimin pokes his head between the two of you. “It’s true. Last week you took off your shoes in my passenger seat, Seokjin. It was not a pretty sight.”

“Wrong,” Seokjin declares, steering expertly into the parking lot. “Everything about me is pretty, even my toes.”

“Well, that’s just not true.”

Parking in his usual spot, Seokjin turns off his car and unbuckles his seat belt. “Are you coming inside, Y/N?” he asks, searching the side door for his sunglasses case.

Glancing at Jimin, you see he is currently texting. “Nah, I don’t think so,” you say, tearing your gaze away to smile at Seokjin. “I think I’ll just head home.” Sliding out of the car, your feet hit the pavement. “Bye, guys!”

Jimin’s head snaps up. “So soon?” he asks. “We didn’t even get to finish the Notebook.”

The imaginary Notebook, which you two never started. “A tragedy,” you say, rolling your eyes. “You’ll live. I’ll see the two of you later.”

As you leave, you overhear Seokjin asking Jimin about someone named Victoria. Wincing, you hike your purse up on your shoulder. Of course, Jimin already has a backup. It is probably a good thing you are not going out with them tonight. You are still feeling weird about the whole matter and need time to figure things out without Jimin present. To hang out with Jimin and his new girl would be too much to consider.

You are so preoccupied with thoughts of this driving home, you almost run a red light – screeching to a stop, you blink while you wait for your scared breath to slow. Lowering your head to the steering wheel, you find it hard to think about anything else, because sex with Jimin was… good.

That is a lie.

Sex with Jimin was amazing, the best you have ever had. Which is confusing – typically, you do not even orgasm for guys you do not have feelings for. This, of course, begs the question of whether you have feelings for Jimin.

As soon as the light turns green and you begin to drive, this is all you can think about. The two of you do hang out a lot, you text all the time but to be perfectly honest, Jimin is not your type. He is a playboy, constantly going from one girl to the next; evidenced by tonight. You are more the flowers and candy kind of partner, the committment-loving girl next door. None of which you have seen a particular desire for in the past with Jimin.

No, Jimin is not your type. The two of you just have some sexual chemistry, that is all.

Once decided, you breathe a sigh of relief. Just because Jimin is good in bed does not mean you like him. It means you can continue being friends, can continue laughing about his most recent conquests and debating your own. You definitely should not be worried about falling for Park Jimin.

Pulling into your parking lot, you exhale because it was petrifying for a moment to think you might have feelings for him. Jimin is impenetrable. There is never anything serious with him, nothing beyond a casual fling. If you had a crush on Jimin, that would be suicide.

Entering your apartment, you find it empty - although that is to be expected, since Minsun texted you earlier saying she wanted to grab dinner with Seokjin. It is nice to have the place to yourself and you end up lounging the rest of the day, reading until the sun sinks below the horizon.

Once you realize it is dark outside, you light candles, order Chinese food and call it a romantic night in. You clean your apartment as well, turning on music and dusting around the rooms. You even do laundry, sinking into your bed once folded to pour a glass of wine and turn on the TV.

You are midway through an episode of Friends when your phone vibrates. A glance sideways shows it is Jimin, his icon filling your screen. It is the words of his text, though which make you sit up on in bed. Heart pounding, you grab for your phone.

Jimin: You never answered my question. [12:31 AM]

He cannot mean… slowly, you type back.

Y/N: What question? [12:33 AM]

There is a pause in conversation where you look at the clock and realize it is half past midnight. Jimin has been out for a while – he might be drunk. Except that Jimin is driving. He cannot be drunk.

Your phone buzzes again.

Jimin: I asked if you wanted more. [12:36 AM]

You stare down at his words, about to type back no. You are about to tell Jimin he needs to stop messing around, but… then you pause. It has been a really long time since a guy made you come like that. You already know you do not like Jimin in that way, already know there is no chance of falling in love with him. Really, there is no harm in this arrangement.

Even slower than before, you type out your response.

Y/N: What… would you teach me? [12:40 AM]

Enough time passes that you start to regret your question. Closing your eyes, you suddenly wish you had said nothing at all, or turned it into a laugh. He might have been kidding. Maybe you just responded seriously to his joke and Jimin is passing around his phone, laughing with friends over your clear desperation.

As soon as this enters your mind, you shake it aside. Jimin would not do that; Park Jimin may be many things, but he is not mean. Your phone vibrates.

Jimin: Whatever you want. [12:42 AM]

Your pulse races at those three words. Fuck. Jimin is good at this.

Y/N: Would you teach me how to do that? [12:43 AM]

Y/N: How to turn someone on … through text? [12:43 AM]

Jimin: Mmm. [12:44 AM]

Jimin does not say anything for a while, leaving you staring at a now-empty screen. Clicking your TV on and off, you wait for a response.

Jimin: Where are you? [12:47 AM]

Y/N: In my bed. [12:48 AM]

Jimin: What are you wearing? [12:48 AM]

Y/N: A t-shirt. [12:49 AM]

Jimin: And? [12:49 AM]

Y/N: Underwear. [12:50 AM]

Jimin: Fuck. [12:50 AM]

Beneath your comforter, your legs press tightly together.

Y/N: Where are you? [12:52 AM]

Instead of responding via text, Jimin sends you a picture. When it finally downloads, you almost drop your phone because it is Jimin. Lying across his bed – you recognize his sheets, blue and grey stripes. He is not wearing a shirt though and his bare torso is visible, sheets mussed around him. His boxers are dangerously low on his frame, displaying just the shadow of his v.

Drawing in a shaky breath, your fingers fly over the keyboard.

Y/N: What happened to the bar? [12:54 AM]

Jimin: Jin and Minsun wanted to come back. I was their driver. [12:55 AM]

Y/N: What, couldn’t find a girl? [12:56 AM]

Jimin: Not tonight. So, back to my original question. [12:57 AM]

You stare at the screen. Then, before you can change your mind, you type your response.

Y/N: Teach me. [12:59 AM]

Suddenly, your phone vibrates. Swiping hastily right, you press the call to your ear. “Hello?”

“Y/N?” Jimin responds, voice low.

You screw your eyes shut, pressing the back of your hand to your face. “Jimin. Are you serious about this?”

His laugh is quiet. “About what?” Jimin snorts. “Wanting to be fuck buddies? Dead serious.”

And there it is. “So…” you exhale, clearing your throat. “We’re friends with benefits, then.”

“That’s the PG-rated version, I guess.”

“Oh, shut up,” you groan. “You know I’m more innocent that you are.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jimin says, sounding as though he is trying hard not to laugh. “The way you looked with your mouth wrapped around my cock… you can cross innocent off the list.”

Shivering a little, you wriggle down in your sheets. “You liked that?”

“Do you think I’d be suggesting this if I didn’t?”

“Probably not.”

“Good answer,” Jimin says. He pauses. “So, you got the photo I sent you?”

“Yes,” you breathe, voice dropping as well. “Do… do you want one back?”

Jimin falls quiet on the other end of the line. “Fuck Y/N,” he groans, voice unsteady. “Why do you have to say it like that? So sweet and innocent, it makes me want to do horrible things to you.”

“Like what?” you ask, unsure why this turns you on so much.

“Send me a goddamn photo and I’ll tell you.”

Pulling back to look at yourself, you scan your body and see a loose, grey t-shirt and black underwear. Remembering the angle at which Jimin took his photo, you position your phone, changing your mind at the last second to roll your t-shirt higher and expose your midriff. Sliding a thumb beneath the band of your underwear, you quickly snap a pic.

Before you can change your mind, you press send and return the phone to your ear to wait.

Jimin groans out loud. “Oh, fuck.”

Stifling a grin, you do not roll down your t-shirt yet. “You like?”

“Y/N,” he whines. “Why lace? What are you trying to do to me?”

“Make you hard.”

“It worked.”

Shifting on the bed, you lie on your side. “Now what?”

“Now what?” Jimin sighs. “Now what? Are you trying to ruin my hard-on?”

Frowning, you draw both knees into your chest. “Fine,” you huff. Then, sweetly, you add, “You’re the boss, Jimin. Whatever you say, I’ll do.”

From the other end, Jimin’s breath hitches. “Anything?” He sounds more than a little turned on.

You nod, realizing he cannot see. “Anything.”

“Take off your shirt,” he breathes.

Slowly, your hands skim your sides and lift your shirt over your head. Once it has removed you fall back on your pillow, shivering at the touch of bare skin on cotton. “Done.”

“Show me.” Jimin’s voice is commanding.

You snap a picture of the shirt on the floor and send, waiting for his intake of breath. Like clockwork, Jimin swears and you hear the sound of rustling of sheets on his end of the phone.

“What are you doing?” you murmur, curious.

“My hand’s on my dick, what do you think I’m doing?” Jimin says. “Your body is so fucking hot, Y/N. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You blink, unsure if this is part of the dirty talk or an actual confession but either way, you have not been able to stop thinking of him, either. “Same,” you sigh, scooting even lower. ”You weren’t lying… when you said you knew what you were doing.”

“Oh?” Jimin sounds smug. “What did you like, Y/N?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I liked your lips.”

“Where?”

“Between my legs.”

Jimin is quiet for a second. Then, “Touch yourself.”

“W-what?”

“Slide your hand down your body. Imagine it’s mine.”

Closing your eyes, you obey. It is easy to focus on the pressure and imagine it is Jimin’s hand, not yours. “Okay,” you sigh.

“Now remove your panties,” Jimin says lowly. “I want to see a picture of them once they’re gone.”

His words send a tinge of excitement through you. Removing your underwear, you take a photo while they hang from the tips of your fingertips.

“Oh, fuck.” Jimin groans, receiving the image.

“How hard are you?” you whisper, suddenly envisioning it. Jimin, with his lips parted and head tilted back, stroking over himself while thinking about your body.

“Hard enough that I want to hear you touch yourself.”

Gasping, you slide one finger between your legs. “I am.”

“Open your legs.”

You obey. “They are.” Slowly your hand moves, sliding a fingertip over your slippery sex. “I can’t stop thinking about your tongue,” you whisper, like a secret. “I’ve never been so close… with just…”

Jimin lets out a low laugh. “You want to come like that next time? With my head between your legs and your thighs wrapped around me?”

You cannot help it, you moan. Your finger moves faster, back arching on top of the bed. “Yes. But you know what else I want?”

Jimin’s voice is tight, on edge. “What?”

“You inside me,” you moan. “I want your cock to pound me into my sheets until I can’t think straight.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” Jimin sounds as if he is barely in control. “I want to be inside you so bad. I want to hear you screaming my name, make you come so hard you forget your own.”

Your breathing is heavy as you slide a finger inside. Mimicking the motion Jimin did to you, you find it not the same. “Jimin.” Biting down on your lip, you stifle the sound. “Next time, I want you to fuck me against the wall. Bend me over and make me come like that. ”

Your fingers rub circles, bringing you close to the edge. The memories of Jimin filling you, the thought of him inside you again, is driving you crazy. Your insides tighten with need.

“Y/N,” Jimin gasps. “Fuck – I can’t”

The sound of him naked and undone is the last straw. You arch upwards on your bed, orgasm crashing into you. “Jimin,” you gasp, slowly regaining your bearings.

He exhales into the phone. “Did you come?”

“Yes,” you murmur. Your heart still beats jaggedly, pulse pounding. “Did... did you?”

Jimin chuckles. “Yeah. It’s kind of a mess.”

Despite yourself, you smile. “Then what are you talking to me for? Go clean up.”

“Ugh, fine.” There are sounds from the other end while Jimin rolls off his bed. “Did you mean what you said earlier, Y/N?”

You struggle to think through your words. “Which part?”

“Ouch.” Jimin snorts. “Are you implying some of what you said wasn’t true? Seduction techniques to get me into bed? I’m wounded.”

“Technically, you started this,” you point out. “Also, you were already in bed.”

“Oh, right.” Jimin laughs, sounding further away. “I meant about there being a next time. You said you wanted me to ‘fuck you against a wall,’” he quotes, sounding ridiculously self-assured.

Pausing, you find yourself uncertain how to answer. “Well. Is this going to be a regular thing?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Yes, but you do not want him to know that. “Maybe.”

Jimin laughs. “It’s either a yes or a no, Y/N. I’m a yes.”

Slowly, you exhale. “Me, too.”

“Good.”

“Good.” You listen to the sounds of him moving and sit suddenly upright, wrapping the sheet around your body. “Okay. If we’re going to do this, there have to be ground rules.”

Jimin snorts. “Okay. What are the rules, Y/N?”

“No one can know.”

“Granted.”

Smiling, you consider how best to phrase your next request. You decide to be blunt. “You have to get tested for STD’s.”

“Y/N,” Jimin groans, almost offended.

“Both of us will,” you amend, pulling your knees into your chest. “It’s just that I’m already on the pill and it would be so nice, not to have to use condoms.”

Jimin falls silent before sighing. “Okay, fine. We both get tested. I assume this means we’re just sleeping with each other?”

Oh. You had not thought about that. Chewing on your lower lip, you exhale. “I mean... Or, we could use condoms?”

“Or....” Jimin considers. “How about this? If we sleep with anyone else, we use condoms. We let the other person know if that changes.”

“So, we’re not exclusive?”

“Not unless you want to be.”

“I... no,” you say, biting down on your lip. “Let’s not be exclusive. This is good for you, too, Park. Half the guys out there don’t even want to wear protection.”

“Half the guys out there are going to get pregnant, then.”

“Well, there’s some miracle of science,” you joke, the grin fading from your face. “And the third rule should be that if either one of us starts developing romantic feelings, we end this immediately.”

Jimin does not laugh, which surprises you. “Fine,” he exhales. “Try not to fall in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, snuggling into your sheets. “I’m the adorable girl-next-door, Park Jimin. You try not to fall in love with me. Now go to sleep,” you instruct. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Girl next door, my ass.” Jimin is still laughing when you shush him. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your eyes are shut almost before your head hits the pillow.

[Master List]

#jimin smut #jimin fic #jimin fanfic #jimin fanfiction #jimin series #park jimin smut #park jimin fic #park jimin fanfic #park jimin fanfiction #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fanfiction #bts series #No Strings

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trashangel-dee · 7 years

Note

Prompt idea for a soulmate AU (I'm a sucker for those :P): You don't see color until you find your soulmate. You only see in black and white again if your soulmate dies or if there's a really bad break in the relationship.

Here it is! Sorry it took so long, I was somehow super inspired and super stuck at the same time. It is fairly ooc, but kind of wanted it to be for an au.

Hope it’s okay! :)

Dee grumbledto herself, sitting next to her brother in the restaurant. They were meetinghis boyfriend, and his friend. Dennis claimed they were “just friends”but the way he yammered on about the guy was much more than she had heard himtalk of others. The fact that he had agreed to pay for her meal and a newpurse, just so she would go and chat with the friend he didn’t want to leavebehind didn’t help- Dennis was offering money just so he could see the guy.

“Here theyare!” Dennis whispered excitedly, leaning in close. Dee groaned, ready to killDennis for getting her in this situation. She recognized Mac, having only methim once, but the karate noises and smell of Drakkar Noir would stick with her.It was his companion, her “dinner buddy” that was an issue- a shorter, scruffyman in a wrinkled t-shirt and oversized jacket trailed along. He’s out with abeautiful woman and decides it’s okay to dress like that? Shit, she hopes thisisn’t him actually trying.

“Like Isaid, Deandra,” Dennis began, “sleeveless shirts are so white trash, but witharms like that, Mac can pull it off.” She stared at him for a moment incredulously-is he not hearing himself?

The two menreach the table and sit, Mac across from Dennis and the grungy one across fromDee. “Hey, bro, this is Charlie, we’ve been friends since, like, forever.”Charlie gives a half hearted wave, and Dennis nods.

“So, you’reDennis’ sister” Charlie says to her, and she can’t tell if he’s asking ortelling. She’s debating whether to give a sarcastic response or “play nice” asDennis had begged in the car, when she lost her train of thought. He waslooking right at her, and his eyes, they were so different than anything shehad seen before.

Instead ofthe usual monochrome palette she had only known, there was a new brightness.Green.

—————–

Dee walkeddown the hall to Charlie’s apartment finding herself excited, a combination ofseeing him and hopefully discovering a new color. He had called, inviting herover for lunch, one he had cooked himself. Dee had been to his apartment oncebefore- briefly when picking him up to go out; she wasn’t thrilled aboutspending the day in the small, dirty room but found the pros far outweighed thecons.

He answeredthe door quickly, though there’s no reason he shouldn’t, Dee thought, with howsmall the apartment is.

“Oh, hey,hey, come on in” he smiled stepping aside. She entered, surveying the room,realizing that’s exactly what it was. A room. No kitchen, no dining area. Shewas about to ask just exactly how he ate in there, glancing over the coffeetable littered with magazines, empty bottles and various empty food wrappers.Of course, he hadn’t bothered to clean up before she came over, much like hehadn’t bothered to do to himself the first time they met.

Her eyes fellto a small card table, a little off the center of the room, a chair on eachside; with two place settings, and in the center stood a single flower in avase. She recognized the green stem immediately, but atop where it bloomed wasa new color. Yellow.

——————————————-

“This placeis supposed to be really popular. I hear they make really good drinks and havelots of colors, too,” Dee explained, as she and Charlie rounded a corner andsaw the giant SUDZ sign. Neither had experienced all the colors yet, but therewas always hope of discovering a new one, and finding all the different shadesof the ones they had already learned.

They hadboth discovered different ones than the other, and part of the fun was tryingto explain them and pointing out what things were the unknown colors.

The placewas loud and busy. They sat at an open spot at the counter, and a man behindthe bar held up a finger indicating he’d be there in a moment, they bothnodded. Dee reached for a flyer indicating drink specials, when Charlie pointedat a group sharing something from a fishbowl, “I know what we’re getting.”

“That?” Deeasked trying, and failing, to sound annoyed, “what’s so great about it?”

“It’s blue!Like your eyes. And I want you to like it as much as I do,” he enthused. Sheunderstood, remembering the first time she saw his green, it was such abeautiful color, her first color,instantly shifting her mood that day.

The manjogged up to them, “How you doing? My name is Greg-“ before Charlie cut himoff.

“We’ll takeone of those,” pointing again at the table.

“That’d be aBlue Hole. Our blended signature cocktail. A great choice. It’s what werecommend to our first-“ he started happily, before Dee cut in this time,enjoying interrupting the man. “That’s great! Go get it.”

He got thehint to quit with the small talk and returned a moment later with the drink,two straws sticking out. For a moment it looked like he was going to try beingfriendly again, but decided against it, and left. They leaned in, taking adrink at the same time; Dee feeling like one of those couples sippingmilkshakes on posters, but not so cheesy.

She satback, looking at the drink they had shared, and it seemed to spring to life.Blue.

———————-

Dee hadnever celebrated a real Valentine’s Day before. Sure, she’s been on dates andsent cards, but nothing really went anywhere. Sometimes it was just a plan toget laid, sometimes she’d see the guy again once or twice; it was more of aholiday for following what movies and TV suggested, she never had actually feltthe things the day had promised.

She hadknown Charlie for almost 6 months, and was looking forward to the holiday,going into it with real expectations; though years ago she would’ve thought areal Valentine’s should include jewelry, chocolates, and an expensiverestaurant, she now found the idea boring and impersonal.

They hadagreed to spend the day together, with no plans, just each other. She jumped when she heard a pounding on thedoor, pulling it open to see Charlie smiling widely, hands behind his back. “Imade you something,”

He pulledout a slightly lopsided paper heart full of bright stickers, two cats touching nosesin the center, inside a red hand drawn heart. ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ scribbledacross the top in messy handwriting. The paper wasn’t like the kind she was accustomedto, it was colored, too. Pink.

———————-

Dee sat atthe counter of the bar she had just bought with her brother, Mac, and Charlie.

It wasalmost nightfall in the warm summer, when Dee felt someone grab her hand. Looking up, she saw itwas Charlie, a lumpy bag under his arm. “Dee, come with me,” he whispered. Sherolled her eyes then glanced over at Mac and Dennis, who were in the middle ofdoing something… stupid. Deciding Charlie’s mystery was better than the othertwo, Dee followed him out the back door into the alley.

Charliereached for the roof ladder, pulling it down. She sighed, tired from the long day. “What the hell are we doing, Charlie?”

“Having ourown celebration.” he explained, then continued after catching the doubtful lookon her face. “It’s good. I promise.”He stepped back, motioning towards the ladder, “ladies first.”

Dee shook herhead. “Nope. I don’t know what’s up there.”

“Fine”Charlie started climbing, glancing back to make sure Dee was following. Shewas.

They reachedthe top, looking over the large flat surface for a moment, before Charliewalked to the center, dropping the bag; he opened it, pulling out a largeblanket and a couple bottles of wine. He sat down, patting the spot next tohim; Dee followed, sitting and looked around.

“Can youbelieve this is ours?” he asked after a moment. She leaned close, resting herhead on his shoulder. “No. I can’t.” she breathed.

They sat ina comfortable silence, staring at the darkening sky barely illuminated by the settingsun, filled with swirls of a new color. Purple.

———————————–

“We’re notkids, Charlie,” Dee explained. “Halloween is for costumes and getting drunk.Not carving faces on pumpkins.”

“Well yeah!But it’s also for candy and jack of lanterns,” Charlie fought back, patting thetwo giant pumpkins on Dee’s kitchen table.

“O, Charlie. It’s Jack o Lantern.”

Charlienarrowed his eyes for a moment, thinking. “Nah, Dee. I’m pretty sure it’s of,”he finished, grabbing a knife and stabbing at the top of a pumpkin. Dee watched as he cut the top off thenreached inside, happily pulling out handfuls of seeds and goop.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the only reason youwanted to do this, was to touch all that gross shit.”

“We need decorations, Dee, if we’re really gonnacelebrate. Besides, it’s our first holiday at the bar. Gotta make it big.”

Deeresigned. She had never really enjoyed holidays as a kid; it was alwayssomething her parents had blown off, seeing celebrating for her and Dennis asan inconvenience. She watched Charlie concentrate on carving into the pumpkin,working in detail on his design, finding herself more focused on his excitementthan the actual tradition.

He looked upa few minutes later, spinning the pumpkin towards her with a look of pride, awell crafted glass of foamy beer carved in the center. The entire object lookedeven better when it took on a color. Orange.

——————–

“I’m reallyhappy Dennis dragged me to that stupid restaurant with him,” Dee said oneevening, as she and Charlie sat side by side. He tilted his head slightly, confused.

“I might nothave met you. Things might not’ve worked out, and we wouldn’t be here,” sheexplained. He nodded, “It is kind of cool.”

“I want thisto be forever” she confessed.

“Then, let’smake a blood oath!” Charlie exclaimed sitting up straighter, “That’s, like, thebest promise you can make someone. It can never really be broken.” He looked so serious and focused.

She lookedat him for a moment, considering, then nodded.

Charliepulled a pocket knife from his jeans, flipping it open. He held out hisopposite hand, placing the blade against his palm; Dee reached across the tablepulling one from her purse, and doing the same. They both took a deep breath,pressing down and pulling the tips across, looking up upon noticing that thistime there was a color to the warm liquid slowly pooling out. Red.

They bothsmiled, clasping hands together before leaning forward and touching lips, too.

———————–

This was really fun to write. I tried to use a canon-ish moment for each one, but had to really stretch on some. I thought about doing the death/broken part, but just couldn’t bring myself to.

If anybody else has prompts, headcanons, etc. send them to me. No promises they’ll be good, but I’ll try.

#blood cw #anon asks #my writing #dee reynolds #charlie kelly #chardee iasip au #soulmate au #I feel best with charie and/or dee stuff #w/o smut because I just know I'm too awkward and inexperienced

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leslieohdamnjr · 7 years

Text

Heels (Lafayette x Reader)

Word Count: 3000 even (YES. BE PROUD.) Request/Summary: “Can you do 55,57,58 with Lafayette x reader please?”- @zoemonster200 Warnings: I dropped the f bomb so many times in this the entire city is in ruins, some diet smut, fighting/arguing/yelling, that should be it. let me know if I left anything out.

A/N- Ruby ( @whatdimissmotherfuckers ) helped me out with french translations and became my thesaurus for a bit lol. Thank you Ruby. AND. Lafayette is just a tall curly haired bag of salt in this fic. Be warned. ALSO. Please give feedback! I love to hear from you guys!

Shit. He was in love. He sure as hell didn’t want to be. But it wasn’t like there was anything he could do about it.

“I don’t think you understand John. I can’t sing.” You told your freckled friend, entering the room with the three boys and Eliza Schuyler. “Agreed.” Lafayette said, snapping out of his daydream. Damnit. How was she so beautiful?

“Fuck you.” You growled at him.“You admitted it.” He sneered. “I was just confirming your suspensions- how you say? Oh, suspicions.”

“Shut up you two.” John flared pulling out a chair a sitting down. “Somebody’s in a bad mood.” You muttered, hopping up and sitting on Lafayette’s counter. “Off the counter.” He grunted. “Hmm.” You pretended to consider his request. “Nah.”

“Get. Your butt. Off. My. Counter. L/N.” He gnarred. “I’d rather not.” You smirked, swinging your legs. “Off the counter!” He barked, thrusting your shoulder backward. “No!” You retorted, shoving him back.

“C’mon (Y/N). Off the counter.” Alexander groaned. “I’d rather not have you two get into a fight again.”

“Again?” Eliza asked, the newest and most innocent of your friend group. “It was ugly.” Hercules answered, glancing toward her momentarily.

You sighed and slipped off the counter, strolling around the peninsula to sit next to John. Lafayette couldn’t keep his eyes from dropping downward as you walked away, your hips swinging. You taunted him relentlessly, and you didn’t even know how much you were tormenting him. His jaw clenched, how could he let this happen? Of all the girls to lose his heart to, it had to be the one who hated him most.

“Zut.” (Damn.) He spoke under his breath. Alexander’s eyes went wide, “Est-ce que tu dit ce que je pense tu dit?” (Did you just say what I thought you said?) He asked, raising both eyebrows. “Non.” (No.) Lafayette frowned at the floor, his jaw still tight. “Tu fis!” (You did!) Alex argued. “Je ne fis rien. Tais-toi Alexander.” (I didn’t say anything. Shut up Alexander.) Lafayette shot back, his hands curling into tight fists. “Tu l'aime!” (You like her!) Alex realized. “Tu as maté elle!”(You were totally checking her out!)

“J'ai dit tais-toi!” (I said shut up!) Lafayette yelled. The others flinched at his intense tone of voice and Alexander held up his hands in surrender. “J'ajoute si tu l'aime, pourquoi tu n'arrête pas utiliser ton ‘growly’ voix pour parler avec elle. ” (I’ll just add, if you like her, why don’t you quit using that growly voice whenever you talk to her?) Alexander advised. “Je le répète, Alexander. Tais-toi. Merde!” (How about I say it one more time Alexander. Shut. The fuck. Up.) Lafayette seethed. “Tu me connaît depuis longtemps pour sachant que je ne ne me taise pas, mais je apprécie nos amitié, je recule et laisse manipuler les trucs comme tu le souhaite.” (You’ve known me long enough to know that I never shut up but because I value our friendship, I’ll back off and let you handle things the way you want to.) Alexander finally backed down. “Merci.” (Thank you) Lafayette finished defiantly, going back to stir his soup.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” John frowned. “Good.” Lafayette snapped. A silence dragged on in the room for a few seconds. “You okay Laf? You’ve been… what’s the word… quite a bitch lately.” Hercules commented. “I’m fine.” Lafayette frowned at the soup and turned off the heat, retrieving six bowls from the cupboard. “Aww, is it your time of the month?” You teased. Still new to English and all of its slang, Lafayette had no idea what you meant, but he did know it was somewhat derogatory. “No.” He grumbled, his cheeks turning red as he found himself unable to understand what you’d said. “Soup’s ready.” He stated before you could pester him further. Everyone rose from their chairs and filed behind the counter to pick up a bowl and fill it with soup.

After dinner at Laf’s, life seemed to go on as usual. As long as you weren’t there, Lafayette’s demeanor was as cocky and optimistic as it usually was. But as soon as you showed up, he found it impossible to keep up a positive attitude.

“What’s up with you and Y/N?” Hercules finally asked. “We’ve always hated each other Hercules.” Lafayette answered, sipping his tea. “But it’s… worse these days.” John cut in. “And we thought that was impossible.” Alexander added, typing as he moved on to his fourth cup of coffee that afternoon. “So what’s up?” Hercules concluded.

“I love her.” Lafayette sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hide it from them for long. The cafe table they were sitting at exploded into the boys’ surprised reactions. “You what?” John shouted, further attracting the attention of the rest of the cafe. “I love her.” Lafayette repeated with a groan. “Woah woah woah, don’t you think ‘love’ is a bit of a strong word? I mean, I knew you liked her…” Alexander trailed off. “No.” Lafayette responded simply. “Wow.” John breathed.

“So how have you all been?” Lafayette asked immediately after. “No need to give us a little time to process.” Hercules grunted.

“Hey Y/N?” Alexander asked, poking his head into your office. “Yes?” You looked up from your laptop to watch him walk in. “The boss is hosting kindof a party thing ‘cause we beat those British competitors in that thing, I don’t know, I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, it’s a party and he wanted me to give everyone these invitations.” He said, placing a piece of cardstock on your desk. The cardstock wasn’t urging you to attend a party, but a ball. You weren’t surprised, working under Washington was pretty big, and often got fancy. Please dress formally. The invitation read, you groaned aloud and pulled out your phone. “Hey Pegs. I need to get a fancy dress. Wanna help?” You asked into the phone, turning back and forth idly in your swivel chair. “Um…YES!” Peggy responded. “I’ll meet you at JCPenney in twenty?” She proposed excitedly. You glanced at your watch. You didn’t have any more meetings and could do the rest of your work at home. “Alright.” You sighed.

“How about this one?” You asked, holding a long blue dress to your shoulders.

“Noooooo.” Peggy moaned, “Pick something sexy! Bring home a man tonight!” She urged. You shook your head and strolled further down the wall of formal dresses, “You want sexy? How about this one?”

“Yes.” She gasped. “Go try it on!” She gushed pushing you toward the dressing room.

You left the dressing room in a tight, lacy, one shouldered black dress. The skirt trailed on the floor behind you and the slit in it almost reached your hip. Exposing your leg and the Converse tennis shoes you had on.

“Sexy!” She exclaimed with a wolf-whistle. “Now let’s get some shoes.”

“What? I have to dance! Spare me the torment of heels!” You begged. “You are not wearing Converse with that beautiful dress. Now change and let’s go.” Peggy ordered. You groaned and slipped back into the dressing room.

“I don’t wanna!” You whined, emerging in your street clothes, the dress tucked under your arm and folded neatly. “C’mon.” She pressed, tugging on your hand and trudging to the shoes section.

“I don’t want to go Pegs.” You sighed as she worked on your hair. “You have to. I bet there’ll be so many hot guys there.” She reasoned. “I don’t disagree.” You shrugged. Tall. Chiseled features. Groomed stubble. Ambrosial curly hair. Sexy french accent-

“Oh fuck.” You declared, almost laughing. “Oh fluff, did I burn you?” She asked, pulling the hot tool away from your hair. “Nope.” You answered, burying your face in your hands. “What is it then?” She questioned. “I like him.” You said. “I fucking like him.” You turned to Peggy, “What the fuck. How could I fucking like him? I hate him.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand. Who is ‘he’ and do you like him or hate him?” She asked. “‘He’ is Lafayette. I’m supposed to hate him, but I just realized I fucking like him!” You explained. “Oh. Obviously.” She shrugged moving back to continue working on your hair. “What?” You raised your eyebrows. “You obviously like him.” She told you. “I didn’t- I’m not- Shit.” You tried to say. “You’ve like that french puffball since the day you met him.” She pointed out. “I didn- Oh shit. I did.” Your brow furrowed as another revelation hit you. “Then you actually hated him for a while.” She continued. “And now you like him again.” She unplugged the tool she was using on your hair and wrapped the cord around its handle. “C’mon, let’s make your face look like… I don’t know. I can’t come up with a good metaphor. Let’s do makeup.” She stated, standing up from her place sitting criss-cross on the floor. You sat there gawking at the wall. Was it that obvious? “Let’s go!” She impelled after a few seconds. You let her take you hand and drag you to your feet.

After you were adorned in red lipstick with purple undertones, winged eyeliner and the eyelashes of a champion, you donned the torture devices: heels. Peggy had bought you five inch heeled lace up black booties, you could barely walk, let alone dance in them.

“You didn’t have to buy these for me.” You grumbled. “I did. You wouldn’t get them unless I got them for you.” She stated. You struggled to get up after putting them on, Peggy giggled and held out her hand, helping you up. “But you still have to let me borrow them.” She annexed as you finally managed to get to your feet. “Of course.” You nodded, leaving your apartment and locking the door behind you.

“Oops!” You exclaimed, stepping back from Charles after stepping on his toes once again. “It’s fine.” He smiled. He was pretty hot, no harm in flirting a bit. “I’m kind of new to dancing, I’ve probably crushed all your toes a few times over.”

“Here, let me teach you.” He offered. “Oh!” You said in surprise. “Teach away,”

“Well first off, you’ll want to step a little bit closer,” He began, you stepped closer than you knew you had to, breathing in his scent. He smelled like lavender, it was nice. “Now put your hands like this,” His warm hands fell over yours as he moved one hand to rest on his shoulder, taking the other hand in his own. He set his other palm on your waist. “Okay, we’ll start slow.” He informed with a small smile. “Just follow me.” He began to step in time with the music and you did your best following along.

“Hey, I haven’t stepped on your toes yet!” You told him excitedly, “Good job.” He chuckled. Soon you moved your gaze from his feet to meet his eyes. You’d heard from friends and around the office that he was an asshole, but from what you’d seen, he was fairly sweet. He’d at least gotten your mind off of Lafayette for a bit.

“Switch partners!” Washington commanded into the microphone. Before you could even process what he’d said, Charles was shoved out of your grasp, and replaced by another, taller frame. He placed a hand on your waist, the other taking your own. You stumbled into his chest, which was adorned with a golden vest over a black button down. You pulled yourself away and looked up at the familiar face. Throwing you into a dance more intricate than you could commit to, was Marquis de Lafayette. “What the fuck?” You managed to spit out after being shocked into silence at his forwardness . He remained unresponsive, his jaw clenched. You pulled him to a stop and he kept his eyes trained on the space just to the left of your face. You stepped out of his arms.

“What the fuck?” You repeated. Without answering, he took your wrist and dragged you through the enormous room, weaving around several pairs of your coworkers. “Answer me Lafayette.” You snarled as he pushed you through a door. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Merde Y/N.” He finally spoke. “Quit saying ‘fuck’.”

“What are we doing here?” You asked angrily, gesturing to the room around you. He stared at your for a few seconds, opening his mouth and closing it again every few seconds as if choosing something to say but later deciding against it. He stepped forward and his lips smashed into yours, effectively pinning you against the wall. “What the fuck Lafayette?” You yelled, repeating yourself as you shoved his body away from your own, wiping your arm across your mouth as if you could somehow wipe his essence off of your lips.

“I know you hate me. I just- Seeing you flirt with him and that dress-” He let a legitimate growl rise from his throat. And damn. You could’ve sworn you’d orgasmed right then and there.

“Hmm. Marquis de Lafayette. Jealous.” You appealed, your voice dropping in volume and intonation as you walked toward him. When you’d reached him, you slid your arm around his neck as he stared down at you. You caught the end of his tie, slowly wrapping its length around your hand, once you’d reached the knot, you yanked hard on the golden hued fabric. The action brought his face not inches away from your own.

“Didn’t see that coming.” You whispered.

“Hmm. Y/N L/N. Even remotely seductive.” He teased. “Didn’t see that coming.” You lifted your leg and wrapped it slowly around his waist, bringing your bodies closer yet to one another.

“What are you doing L/N?” He queried, raising an eyebrow. You ground your hips slightly against him, causing a low libidinous moan to slip from his lips.

“I don’t know. What’s it look like I’m doing?” You responded, your lips ever so slightly brushing his as you spoke. You pressed your lips to his forcefully and it wasn’t long before your tongue began to tangle with his. You let his tie fall from your hand before reaching for the knot and dragging it apart. You threw his tie across the room before his hand found the back of your thigh, moving it so now both your legs were curled around his waist. He walked you forward until your spine was pressed against the wall. You moved your mouth to his neck and he lamented as you set to work creating a hickey there. You got rid of his golden vest and made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Pushing the silky black fabric off of his shoulders. You didn’t stop to think. You couldn’t. Every part of you ached for him. Every scrap of your being was begging to be closer to him, even though you already had your body pressed against him, every recess of your heart wanted more. You let your hand run over his abs before fiddling with his belt until you could slide it out of the loops. You moved your lips back to his and he reached behind you, sliding the zipper of your dress down. You pulled the ponytail holder out of his hair and tugged on the curly locks that had sprung free. He began to kiss down your jaw and along your collarbone.

“Oh FUCK. (Y/N) what the fuck are you doing making out with Jefferson?!” Alexander’s voice crashed through your thoughts. Your eyes shot open and you felt Lafayette’s presence leave you. “Oh god. I think I’m gonna throw up. My innocent eyes. I just wanted to get my coat.” Alexander moaned as you fumbled with your dress, holding the bodice to your chest. “Ever heard of knocking?” Lafayette smoldered.

“Jefferson. This is a coat closet. Nobody knocks to go into a coat closet. And what’s with the French accent.” Alexander sneered. Lafayette just stared at him for a few seconds. With a deep sigh, he reached up and combed his fingers through his hair, dragging it into a ponytail and holding it there. His eyebrows shot up as if asking Alex Seriously?

“O- Eh- We- Y- mnnf” Alexander was stunned into a stuttering mess. “I’ll just…” And he popped out of the room before you could say anything more.

“Oh god.” You stammered. What the fuck were you just about to do. What the fuck were you doing. “Oh fucking god.” You reached back, struggling to zip up your dress. As you tried to pull the zipper up further, you found yourself unable to reach it. After a few seconds of struggling, a pair of warm calloused hands covered yours, easing them away from the black fabric. Lafayette finished fastening the dress for you effortlessly. You turn to face him, letting your eyes rest on his face for just for a half second. “I…” You meant to say something but instead found yourself making for the door. “Wait.” You felt his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you to a stop. You tried to pull your arm away but he stood his ground. “Let go of me!” You demanded frustratedly.

“I love you.”

“I-” You began, tears spilling down your cheeks. You stood there together in silence. The stillness in the air felt like a weapon. Like he put it there on purpose just to torment you as you went rummaging through your thoughts, trying desperately to come up with an answer. “I-” You tried one more time. You didn’t know what to say. What was stopping you from telling him you didn’t feel the same? Hurting his feelings had never been in the way of anything you’d said before. What held you back now? What was it that scalded the words in your throat, reducing them to a pale ash? His pleading eyes bore into your emotions and you forced yourself to break eye contact. You wrenched your wrist from Lafayette’s grip and left as fast as those five inch heels could take you.

#lafayette x reader #marquis de lafayette #hamilton x reader #a lil bit a angst #hamilton imagine #marquis de lafayette x reader #marie-joseph paul yves roch gilbert du motier marquis de lafayette #hamwriters

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