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#flexed and the sleeves fell off lol
readerleedigest · 1 year
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TICKLE FIC BELOW.... Finally wrote something lol. It may be trash though.
“Oh my gohohosh,” you laughed, wiping a tear of laughter from your eye. “You all are sohoho stupid.”
“Are not!” Eddie protested, shoving Steve. “He’s the only stupid one. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it before—“
You were laughing so hard you almost didn’t see Nancy pick up the phone. She looked concerned, and waved at you to get your attention.
“It’s your mom,” she whispered, cupping a hand over the mouthpiece. “She doesn’t sound happy.”
You grimaced. You’d had a feeling your mom wasn’t thrilled recently, with life, with you, with all of it. This wasn’t likely to end well.
“Hey mom,” you started, taking the phone from Nancy and smiling as she gave you a sympathetic nod before rejoining the boys conversation. “I was planning on coming home in a few, what’s up?”
“Oh, wow. Finally coming home, huh? To do what? You didn’t do the dishes before you left, I doubt you’ll do them when you come back. No no, enjoy your time with your friends, why do anything for your mom, right?”
“You never… you never asked me to do the dishes…”
“I feel pretty sure I did, Y/N.”
“I’ll do them when I get home, I promise, okay? What did you need?”
“Well, an apology would be nice.”
You let out an inaudible sigh.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do the dishes, okay? Is that all?”
“No. I need you to take your brother to and from school tomorrow. I’ve got a meeting early and I won’t be able to.”
“But Mom, I told you last week I had that conference this weekend I’d been wanting to go to. I’m supposed to leave tomorrow morning.”
“I don’t remember you saying that.”
“Well,” your voice cracked, frustration tightening your chest. “I did. I can’t take Sam tomorrow.”
“You can, and you will. It’s just a conference, you can afford to be a little late.”
Silence. You tried to breathe, purposefully not looking at your friends who were pretending not to be listening to you.
“No.”
Now it was your mom’s turn to be silent for a moment.
“No?! Are you kidding me right now, Y/N L/N? What, so I can never rely on you for anything now? Living your own life, without your family, being an IDIOT with your friends—“
“That’s NOT what I’m saying. I’m just saying—“
“I think that’s exactly what you’re saying.”
“Well, then I guess that’s your fault.”
You hung up the receiver, staring at it blankly as you breathed heavily, a sob slowly lodging in your throat. You looked up at your friends, back at the phone.
It was too hot in this basement.
Quickly, you walked up the stairs and fumbled with the front door handle. The cool autumn night air gave you clarity, for only a moment, before you broke down.
It was the kind of crying that you couldn’t control, created by pent up frustration and wild crazy emotions that raged and beat against your chest.
You were exhausted.
You were relieved.
You… couldn’t believe you’d hung up on her.
She was going to yell when you got home.
The tears slowed, replaced by the dread and guilt that ate away at your gut. And you hated it.
Slowly, but surely, you wiped your eyes on your sleeves and steadied your breathing. You’d have hours to cool off and so would she. You’d get home, do the dishes, and everything would be fine.
You hoped.
A quiet conversation had started in the basement in your absence, and you did your best to ignore the way it paused when you went back downstairs, your face splotchy and eyes red.
Sinking down into the couch, you stared at the rug until the patterns made no more sense.
“Hey, Y/N. Did you get tickets?” Steve asked. Robin sighed and facepalmed, but genuinely confused, you fell for it.
“To what?”
“To the gun show,” he and Eddie both chimed, comically flexing their biceps and wagging their eyebrows.
You huffed out some air, a weak smile surfacing, but no more.
“Aw come on, that was a good one,” Steve whined, scooching over so he was sitting in the floor in front of you.
“Sorry,” you shrugged. You were tired, and all your emotions just felt kind of... dimmed. It really had been funny, but you just didn’t want to laugh.
Eddie plopped himself beside you on the couch. “Did I ever tell you about the time I played with a band in the middle school talent show?”
“No,” you responded at the same time Robin chimed, “Yes.” She then quickly corrected herself, saying, “But it’s been a while.”
“Well,” Eddie began, leaning in towards you. “It all started because...”
Eddie began detailing the story of how their drummer had managed to flip a drumstick into his own eye just minutes before the talent show, and how he’d forced the drummer to wear an eyepatch they’d found in the theatre department.
It was a funny story. Really. But you just didn’t laugh.
You saw Eddie’s eyes reflect a sort of defeat as his voice faded, ending his story. You felt bad. You knew they were trying to cheer you up, but it just wasn’t working.
And then Nancy rested her chin on your head from her position behind you, and you felt the tears spring into your eyes again.
Why couldn’t you just be happy for your friends?
Unbeknownst to you, Robin had seen the way your face fell, and quickly sprang to action, doing the one thing she knew never failed to lighten your mood.
Scaring Steve.
He’d been in the middle of describing the massive poster Dustin had made for some project, his arms up and out in the air. Robin launched herself forward, her hands landing on Steve’s sides and squeezing rapidly.
“--and I said, DustINAHAHAHAHA! ROBIN!”
You couldn’t help it. A smile fought it’s way onto your face, as did a small blush.
Robin relented quickly, her mission accomplished, ruffling Steve’s hair as she pulled away.
“Whahat the hell, Buckley?”
“Sorry Steve, but it was the only way to make Y/N smile,” Robin laughed. 
“If you wanted to make them smile, why did you tickle me?” 
Your blush grew as Steve and Robin paused, stared at each other, and then turned to look at you.
“He’s got a point, Y/N. What do you say? You gonna laugh for us?”
“Ihihi-- I can’t juhuhust laugh on command,” you stammered, giggling a little.
“Well,” Steve smirked. “What are friends for?”
Steve grabbed your feet from where they rested on the couch, pulling you down into the floor quickly with him and Robin, who had you corned in the crook of the wraparound couch.
“Where should we start?” Steve asked. Robin opened her mouth to respond, but Steve shushed her, looking directly at you. “I’m not asking you, Buckley. I’m asking you, Y/N.”
“Nowhere?” you shrugged, eyes glancing at where his hands rested on your knees, then wrapping your arms over your stomach and sides.
“Bingo,” Robin sang. 
Suddenly, Eddie’s hands were grabbing your own, pulling them up and out of the way just long enough for Steve and Robin to begin their work.
You screeched when Steve zeroed in on your sides, squeezing them rapidly like Robin did to him. Meanwhile, Robin was spidering her fingers over your midsection, throwing random pokes you tried desperately to block now that Eddie had released your hands again. 
“NAHAHA STAHAHAP!”
“Mmmmm.... no,” Steve teased, his hands spidering up from your sides and onto your neck, making you squeak and sink downwards, your head getting closer and closer to the floor.
“Aww, how nice of you, Y/N. Making it easier for us to tickle you,” Robin chuckled, straddling your waist.
“GEHEHET OFF!”
 Steve leaned in, brushing your hair out of your eyes. He looked at you calculatingly as you giggled and flinched away from the ticklish hands. He tilted his head, and grinned.
“They were outside for what? Five minutes?”
“Yeah, about that,” Nancy chimed.
“Well then, I’d say five minutes of sad pouty Y/N deserves five minutes of giggles and tickles Y/N, right?”
“IHIHIHIHI’LL DIEHIEHIE!” You protested through laughter, attempting to curl in on yourself as Robin shook her hands into the center of your stomach.
“Of happiness!” Eddie added, unhelpfully.
You didn’t die. But you sure did laugh a lot more the rest of the evening.
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noblesixjm04 · 2 years
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I Cried To The Devil
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Pairing: N/A
Characters: Reader. Elite warrior.
Reader type:Gender neutral.
Song:Rainbow Kitten Surprise - Devil like me.
Warnings: Mentions of blood. Swearing. The like.
An: I had this stuck in my head. Hope y'all enjoy! Also idk how old elites live to be so uhh. Dudes gonna be over one hundred and we'll pretend that's normal for stories sake lol. And that the ending makes sense.
You woke with a jolt. Your mind swimming from the blast that thrown you back. You don't remember much after that other than the pain. The ringing in your ears. Still it is present. Deafening in the silence surrounding you.
Your eyes open greeted with the sight of the rising sun. A soft yellow light bathing your armor clad body. The black fabrics soaking in the warmth against the frigid chill of the forest.
With your arm trembling you bring your hand forward. Catching glimpses of the forests canopy between the gaps of your fingers. Your hand is free if it's normal glove. Lost from when you pulled it off to better grip the Worthogs fallen key.
Blood sluggishly runs in rivlets down your hand disappearing in the dark fabric of your sleeve. Your pinky is crooked and garishly bruised. The entire finger and half your palm aches with a rhythmic pulse of pain.
You wheeze in a harsh breath when you flex your fingers. Hot tears pooling in your eyes.
Bad idea. Bad fucking idea.
Your glance to your left and subsequently at the Worthog as well. The front damn near unrecognizable.
You draw your other hand up to it. Tentatively touching your finger tips to the middle. A quick tap then a firmer press once your realized the metal was no longer hot.
Air hisses between your teeth as you hoist yourself to your feet. You stagger as the ground sways beneath your feet. Your stomach lurching into your throat as the ringing in your ears doubled an octave or two.
You squeeze your eyes shut. Draw in one shallow breath after another. Dully making note of the pain in your sides. With any luck it was just heavy bruising. You didn't want to deal with a punctured lung.
Slowly. Very slowly the world stills and you're able to open your eyes. The forest surrounds you on all sides. Dark and looming in it's vastness. Gone is the worn road you traveled between bases to. A curse falls from your lips. Then another. And another. Quiet and timid. As if talking louder would solidify where you were.
"Briggs?" You cough on the name. Throat hoarse and dry. You try again. Another name. "Winston?" You cough again. Your mouth wets. Spills on your lips. You brush your fingers against them.
They come back scarlet.
A million thoughts filter through. Dread pooling in you stomach as every warning bell in your body rings.
You promised her. You promised her you would come back.
You look around. Leaning heavily on the fallen Worthog and attempt to tamp down your growing panic.
Ok. Try to find Briggs and Winston.
You take a tentative step forward leaning your weight against the Worthog. The vehicle lays on it's side.
"Briggs c'mon." A wheeze in. "Now would be a good time." A wheeze out. "For one of your shitty jokes." Your right side ached. Burned. Grew hot with spreading pain.
As you rounded the other side a cry stuck in your throat. Nothing. No one. You tumbled to your knees grass threading between your fingers.
Everything became to real. To crisp. Your eyes followed the path of a dew drop. Caressing the blade of grass before dropping on your hand.
Your breathing shortened as the pressure grew. A lump forming in your throat.
Your began to drop gear. Letting it drop to the forest floor piece by piece. Nails scrapped at your throat as you tried to breathe.
Just fucking breathe.
It hit. Cold and Sharon.
Crawling forward your reached for the nearest bottle of water. You sat. Twisted the top off and drank greedily. Desperate and yearning. You coughed and sputtered the moment it went down wrong. Pain echoing thought your body. From head to toe like falling dominos.
Air left your lungs in one fell swoop. A cry of pain following behind it. You first the fabric of your shirt with your good hand. The other limp and your side.
Are. Are you going to die here?
You dug for the radio. Throwing out MREs and Briggs damned tapes. The radio all but fell into your hands. The hard metal corners digging into your palms as you set it down next to your side.
Quickly you clicked it in. Filtering through channel after channel.
Nothing. Silence. Not even dead air. Desperate you call for help anyways. Leaving your last known location.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Anyone.
Anything.
It hits you like Moses to the rock. You were alone. Truly and absolutely alone. No one is coming back for you. And it's even more likely that no one even knows.
They won't until they're to busy with the Covenant that blasted you and your friends off the road.
If they're alive.
If Briggs and Winston hadn't been dragged off to be interrogated. If they even managed to make it that far. The trek back to either base was a long one.
You stared upwards. Watched the tree tops sway with the breeze. The planet was growing warmer as time passed.
How long had you been out for? A few hours maybe. It had been early morning when the explosion happened. Three maybe four in the morning.
Then why couldn't you hear anything? No yelling. Screaming. The crack of gunfire. The smell of gunpowder and heated plasma would have. Should have carries this far.
With that thought your studied the scene around you. The fallen Worthog. The gassed spilled into the grass. The MREs scattered about. The top half of your armor that held dents and scraps from the blast.
Other than that nothing. The disturbed dirt from the Worthogs landing. But. No blood. No signs of a struggle.
Just Winston's helmet. The rocket scratched and rubbed away with wear and tear. You pull that into your lap. Stare at it.
Did they leave you here? Did they die in the blast? The helmet falls from your grasp. Oh Gods. Bile welled in your throat. Burning and acidic. What would you tell his Wife? His son. God his wife just had the twins.
Could you really tell them that he died? If he died?
Your head tilted skywards. Throat tight. You don't think you could look his wife in the eyes. Didn't want to see the glossed look they would take. The paleing of her face. The kid. God the kid would just break. Loosing his dad.
You pulled yourself to your feet using the Worthog to steady yourself. Eyes focused on some distant tree. Pushing yourself off the Worthog you walked in a shamble. You would walk back to one of the bases. Crawl if you had to.
Anything to find out where they were.
You promised her. Them.
You all would come back.
.
.
.
Coming back was in the form of you wanting to fall apart. Chest heaving with every breath and your shirt soaked in sweat. Clinging to your skin and leaving you itchy.
You hears nothing the entire time. No flying overhead. Enemy nor Ally. No crack of guns or explosives. No calling out from either side.
Not even the wildlife made noise. Silence rung in your ears. You hears nothing but the noises of your own making.
You paused. Leaned against a tree. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Like a heavy weight settling more and more firmly on your chest with every exhale.
On occasion you tasted metal. And chalked that up to the fact you bit your cheek when you were thrown back.
You had nothing beyond the standard issued magnum everyone carried. Gripping it tightly with one hand. The other being used to steady yourself as you walked.
The sun was high overhead at this point. You were only saved from it by the thick canopy of trees. The occasional patch of light would shine through. Despite the shade you were hot. Sweating. Mouth dry and your body cried out for water.
Your legs gave out on your next step. Hitting the ground hard enough for your teeth to clatter in your skull. You swore. Coughed harshly and swore again. High pitched keens left your throat as your body light on fire.
Pain shot through top to bottom. It ran like electricity. Made your eyes blur with unshed tears.
For a brief moment you just laid there. Heart pounding in your chest. Cheek pressed to the forest floor.
When you eventually pulled yourself up to sit small pebbles stuck to your skin. Your shirt coated in dirt and twigs.
You said nothing. Did nothing. Just. Breathed. Your body seeming to sink down into the earth as your eyes grew heavy. And for a moment. Closed.
.
.
.
A branch snapped to the front of you. Your body jolted. Hands shaking as you went from resting to being fully alert and aware of everything at once.
You held the pistol in front of you. Thumbing the safety off as you held you finger away from the trigger but close enough to fire if it wasn't a friend. You could see nothing. Dense brush obscuring whatever was on the other side.
Everything screamed in you to just quite. Lower your arms. Tired. God you were tired.
There was nothing at first. The moment stilled long enough for you to assume it was the local wildlife. Something not to worrying.
Until he stepped though.
A large muscle bound leg covered in grey armor. Followed by his hips and an arm. Until his head finally popped through.
His hand was pressed firmly to his torso. Blood spilled between his fingers. His torso and leg covered in it. Amor missing from where he was hurt.
"Fuck." It left your lips in a wheeze. Still you held your gun in front of you. Arms trembling as if it was the heaviest thing you've every held.
The Elite met your eyes. Shook his head. And sat across from you. The handle of an energy sword left his other hand. Something you hadn't noticed at first.
Still. You held the gun. The sights on his armorless head.
"Stay like that if it makes you feel safe. Just know, I will not be fighting this night anymore." He spoke after a moment.Voice ragged and harsh. His own eyes looking you up and down. His head tilted. "You are injured as well?" You said nothing. Held your gun.
He looked upwards. Sighed.
You waited. Waited to see if he would move. Strike. If this was some weird ploy or trick.
Eventually gravity won. You were to weak to hold the gun up any longer. Instead you held it in your lap. Eyed the Elite in front of you.
You drew in a laboured breath. Struggling to pull in even the smallest amount of air. That got his attention. Watching you as you coughed and choked on seemingly nothing.
He said nothing as you gathered yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut as you realized what had happened. What was going on. The thing you dearly hoped hadn't happened.
"Does your kind fear death Covie?" You looked to the Elite. His mandibles flared. The muscles in his arms flexing as he moved himself.
"No." He spoke. "We face it with honor. Greet it as we walk the path. There is no dishonor in dying." His head tilted. Breathing just as laboured as yours. "And you human? Does your kind fear death?" You snorted.
"Ya. Most do. No one really wants to die." The gun falls from your grasp. No longer did you have the strength to hold it.
"Do you then?" His arm fell. Blood oozed from the wound. To thick to fully coagulate in the open air.
"No. Not really. Not the actual dying anyways." Your cut off as you cough again. A thick mucus spilling from your throat. It's bloody as you spit it out. You look to him. "It's the being alone part that gets me."
It's getting hard to speak.
Silence falls between you. You flex the fingers with your non injured hand. The skin loosing color with every passing minute. It feels like ice when you press it to your cheek.
You glass up to the Elite. His eyes trained on you. Something on his face is. Is almost soft. Sad? Maybe that is the word. You can't tell anymore.
"Human?" Your head jolts when he speaks.
"Mhm. What?" It comes out slow. Becoming harder to move your tongue. As if it were swollen or numb.
"I asked how old you were. You seem young. Even for your own kind." You scoff as this. Your head falls to the left and you right yourself. Jerking as if you had just fallen asleep.
"M'nineteen." The words slurs together. Weird even to your own ears. "N'you?" You ask.
"One hundred and twenty three by your terms." He shifts and you laugh.
"Fuck your old." You give a hiccuping laugh. A sob stuck in your throat. Why do you feel like this? Body sluggish and heavy. Cold and warm at the same time. "M'friends left me. Ya know? Left me." Something rolls down your cheeks. Hot as it trail downwards. Cools as evening air takes it away.
"And you a very young." The Elite is in front of you before you register it. A quick blink of your eyes turned a minute long. His large body sets next to yours. "And those are not good. Friends. As you call them." You say nothing. Lay your head back.
There is a disdain in his voice when the Elite next speaks. "Truly. They let you fight?" You laugh. Smack his arm as if he was a friend.
"M'hmm. Gotta fight you guys. Cuz y'all wanna kill us." Still. The tears fall. "M'sister. She's. She's gonna. She." You can't get the words out. Don't want to speak them. Don't want to make it true.
"I joined. To keep her safe." You can't pull in air any more. "Will. Will you stay." You ask him. The Elite says nothing.
"I told you already. I can no longer fight this night." You find yourself resting against him. Hands trembling in your lap. You can't focus you sight on anything anymore. Everything blurring as seeming to drain if color slowly.
A hand rests on your knee. Engulfs it. "Rest. And walk your path." You don't understand what he means. Barley even register that he spoke. Already you were swimming downwards. Falling into a deep sleep.
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sexybread-png · 3 years
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gayregis · 4 years
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is it weird to think of back in black as a geralt song
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dreaming in reality, m | myg, jjk
pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook
summary: The wrong guy shows up in your car – Jeon Jungkook. Again. He’s less drunk this time, but no less weird. Then the right guy shows up. Min Yoongi. You know, the guy you fucked in Jungkook’s bed that one time. Guess he can convince you to do anything. Like, say, take Jungkook’s virginity. Don’t worry, he’ll help.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language, tiny bit of crack; alcohol consumption; violence? someone gets slapped lol; technically Jungkook’s first time; smut (fem reader, threesome, slightly degrading dirty talk, nipple play, fingering, f-receiving oral, penetrative sex, partial handjob); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi; Yoongi is a very bad boy and he knows it; JK is blond and wearing his ‘ON’ and ‘Dynamite’ GDA 2021 outfits (except w/o the white blazer)
a–dick–ted au yes that’s what I’ve decided to call this this was supposed to be just more Yoongi smut but then Jungkook decided he’d like this to be about him, what can you do?
--
"Can you pick me up tonight?"
"Mhm. What are you wearing?"
A deep chuckle. "Eager to undress me?"
"I'm doing you a favor. There's no guarantee you'll get more than that."
"Hmmm." That low raspy voice did not believe you. "White dress shirt, black jeans. Can't miss me."
He hung up. 
White shirt, black jeans. You remembered to lock your car doors this time, so you turned around to press the button so he could get in. The door opened and the young man slid inside, reeking of alcohol. Wait. Some kind of belt harness around a thin waist. Ashy blond hair. Hand tattoos. Thick thighs. Chiseled jaw.
Fuck!
Again?
"I need to talk to you, noona."
"Get out."
Jeon Jungkook was not as drunk as before. He was definitely drunk, but not piss drunk like last time. His eyes were unfocused and he was nervously biting his pink lower lip. The mole underneath bounced up and down as he chewed it mercilessly. He swallowed and undid the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing his tan, muscular pecs. Oh, thank the Lord, Jungkook remembered to wear a shirt underneath, although it was a very low-cut white t-shirt. He kept running his hand through his currently blond hair tensely, revealing the shadow root. Well, it was well done at least. He had a good hairstylist. You hadn't realized Jungkook changed it, so he must have done it recently.
Probably to get attention and remind every human being that he was hot.
Blergh.
You still weren't convinced he wasn't a dirty little fuckboy.
"Why are you sitting in my car showing off your nervous ticks?" you said irritably.
"I gotta ask you something."
His black boots were a little dirty from the party. Outside, the drunks were as loud as ever, with the same seven girls on the porch craning their heads to gawk at Jungkook in your car. Different house, same scene, and drunk Jeon Jungkook sitting in your passenger's seat, once again being the wrong guy sauntering into your car. 
Where the fuck was the correct guy?
"Look, psycho, fucking spit it out or yeet. I'm not repeating what happened last time."
Jungkook's dark brown eyes flickered to you, turning his body to face yours. Running his tattooed right hand through his bleached hair over and over, spreading the golden strands, the ashy tone catching the low light of the lampposts. Jaw flexed, tiny pink tongue darting out and licking his lips. He was a little sweaty, cheeks hollowed in a little with how hard he was breathing. 
You raised an eyebrow. 
"You have ten seconds before I kick you out and believe me when I say I have leg strength."
"Are you and Yoongi-hyung dating?" Jungkook asked suddenly. 
What?
"What?"
You made a face at him.
He sucked in a breath, brows furrowing at your response. “Because I could have sworn…”
Your mind flickered back to that faithful night. Shit. You shouldn’t have let Min Yoongi convince you to sleep right there in Jungkook’s apartment. You remembered his wicked smirk, his deep, raspy voice in your ear, Jungkook’s not going to know and don’t you want to do bad things with me? Don’t you want to be bad with me? He could make you do anything at this point. You two fell asleep on Jungkook’s bed. Next to hungover Jungkook.
Naked.
You mentally slapped yourself.
“What made you come to that conclusion?” you snapped, narrowing your eyes.
Jungkook tilted his head, sucking in his cheek. It made a sharp sound and his tongue flashed against his white teeth for a split second. You almost flinched. He pursed his lips and kept his gaze on you. You were wearing a tight white high-necked crop top, oversized black hoodie, and high-waisted black shorts. Dark pink and violent violet chunky sneakers. Almost no makeup. Hair tied back into low pigtails with one pink and one purple scrunchie to match your sneakers.
Oh shit. The hoodie wasn’t yours.
Hopefully Jungkook wasn’t perceptive enough to figure that out.
“Noona.”
He said it strangely, breathlessly. Almost sexually. You recoiled a little. Jungkook was leaning forward, giving you a clear view down his shirt, blond hair falling into his face, covering one eye. His alcoholic breath floating towards you, far too close for your liking.
“I…” Jungkook swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I want… to…”
The door to your passenger’s seat was roughly yanked open.
Jungkook jumped, throwing his back into the seat, brown eyes wide and staring at the newcomer. White dress shirt, two sizes too big, with ties at the wrists to cinch in the bishop-style sleeves. Black jeans, distressed with several mismatched patches. Silver chains on his black leather belt and around his pale neck. Black hair, pointed dark eyes like a cat.
A single, cocked eyebrow.
“Let me guess,” drawled Min Yoongi, the correct guy you were supposed to be picking up, looking from you to Jeon Jungkook, who was impossibly flat against the car seat. Yoongi sounded amused. “He just waltzed in.”
You narrowed your eyes. “No, I locked my doors this time.”
Yoongi’s gaze flickered to Jungkook, who still seemed mildly terrified, and then back to you. The glint in his dark brown eyes was far from innocent. His fair cheeks were a little pink.
“Ah, so you wanted Jungkook in your car?” There was an edge to his voice, almost dangerous, but to you it was Yoongi’s usual teasing. Jungkook looked like he was preparing for his own death. Both of you ignored him for the moment.
“You said white dress shirt and black jeans,” you scowled. You gestured Jungkook up and down. “Hello?”
Jungkook’s thighs tensed and bulged against his tight jeans. Eyes still as wide as saucers. He hadn’t blinked in a good thirty seconds.
“We have the same excellent taste and style. How fortunate for you,” Yoongi purred. Then he finally patted Jungkook’s thigh, making him start and let out a panicked squeak. “You want noona to drop you off, Jungkookie? She’d be happy to.”
“No, I wouldn’t,” you gritted out.
“Yes, she would,” Yoongi said cheerfully. He slammed the front car door and opened the backseat. You rolled your eyes and stared straight ahead. Even from here you could smell the whiskey. Yoongi hummed and you snuck a glance at him through the rearview mirror.
He looked positively beside himself with glee.
Hmph. Fine.
His loss.
“You bleached your hair, Jungkook?” Yoongi said absentmindedly as you started up the car.
Jungkook ran a hand through it once again. “Uh, yeah. What do you think, hyung?”
“Hm, looks good. Too much upkeep for me, personally. Seatbelt.”
Jungkook hastily went to grab his seatbelt and put it on. Too bad. You were ready to brake hard and send him flying out the windshield. Just kidding. Maybe. Well, you would have to be going real fucking fast for that to happen. Maybe over ninety or some shit. You pulled out of the neighborhood of houses, already knowing what direction to go in to the correct apartment complex. Yoongi and Jungkook lived in the same building.
So convenient.
You thinned your lips into a line, ignoring their conversation, until Yoongi snapped his fingers and called your name to get your attention. You glared at him through the rearview mirror. Yoongi’s legs were wide open, flopped in your backseat. He grinned at you and placed his hands on the inside of his jean-covered thighs.
Fucking tease.
“What?”
“Didn’t you say you wanted to dye your hair at some point?”
You shrugged. “Yeah.”
Jungkook sat up, looking at you. You didn’t look at him. “Oh? You’re going blond too?”
You snorted. “I said I wanted to dye my hair, which means a color.”
“What color?” Yoongi asked lazily.
Your eyes flickered to him in the rearview mirror again. He flexed his long fingers and pressed them against his jeans. You tucked your tongue in your cheek. Yoongi was aware Jungkook couldn’t see him and he was also aware you were watching him. Your eyes went back to the road.
Yoongi was also aware that because of Jungkook’s presence, neither of you were getting any tonight, so he resorted to teasing you like the bad boy he was.
“I dunno. Pick one for me,” you said impassively.
Yoongi chuckled, a deep, husky sound, revealing his pink gums and straight white teeth.
“Red.”
-
“N-noona?”
You curled your lip, looking around you. Ugh. You hated parties like this. So loud, so annoying, so many idiots. You didn’t understand why Yoongi came to these things. It was probably because of his lively friends. Being social like this was probably a great thing, but this was not your scene.
“No time to chat, Jungkook. Have you seen Yoongi?”
Jungkook was flapping his gums at you. He was still blond. He must be keeping up with his hair care because it still looked soft and ashy. It was swept to one side this night. Powder blue dress shirt, tight against his muscular pecs and white slacks that seemed to be choking his thighs. Brave man, wearing white around this much alcohol and lunacy.
You had to admit, Jeon Jungkook had guts looking like a prince to a peasant’s party.
“Where is he?” you muttered. “Kim Seokjin called and told me to get him because he was asleep.”
“U-uh…” Jungkook looked around as you stepped into the party house, your heavy black boots thudding against the hardwood floor. Short black skirt with silver chains and a black hoodie that said ‘WHATCHU MEAN?’ in neon lime green across your chest. Phone and keys in your hoodie pocket. Other than that, you weren’t wearing anything as of note. Oh.
Except.
Your usual ‘fuck off’ mentality.
“I haven’t s-seen him in the past hour,” Jungkook stammered.
“Fat lot of help you are.” You clicked your tongue and moved past him.
“You dyed your hair,” Jungkook blurted suddenly.
You turned your head and looked back at him. “Yeah, so?”
Your hair was now a gradient from a long black shadow root, to dark purple berry, to bright neon red. It was half-tied up with a black scrunchie, a few strands hanging around your face. Jungkook kept staring at it. You raised an eyebrow and turned away from him. Eh, you had no time for this. You needed to grab Yoongi and get the fuck out of here.
“I-I’ll look you help.”
You raised your eyebrows as Jungkook squeezed past you, his hard back pressing against your arm.
“You can’t even speak, you drunkard,” you said, rolling your eyes.
“I mean, I’ll help y-you look, noona,” Jungkook corrected himself, licking his lips nervously, running his right hand through his hair.
He’s hopeless.
Well, better than going alone.
Wordlessly, you followed him throughout the party, opening doors and craning your head over the bodies. So many topless people. Ugh, it was pretty late. By the time you two reached the back of the house, you never wanted to see another nipple ever again. You saw Kim Seokjin at the karaoke machine, blasting eardrums with what you assumed were supposed to be high notes, but, in reality, was simply screaming.
You didn’t even want to walk up to him to ask.
“He might be upstairs,” Jungkook said, swallowing hard.
“Lead the way,” you sighed, annoyed this was taking longer than it needed to.
You made your way up the stairs, pressing yourself against the railing to avoid touching people. Kept your hands in your kangaroo pocket and a scowl on your face. Jungkook suddenly stopped and you collided into him. Fuck. Why did he feel like he was made out of rocks? Stupid muscles.
“Hold on.”
Some guy was sprawled all over the middle of the hallway, unconscious.
“I’ll just step over him.”
Jungkook growled. “No. What if he wakes up and looks up your skirt?” He bent over and picked him up, propping him against the wall. You raised an eyebrow. Like anyone cared what was up your skirt besides Min Yoongi. Whatever. If he wanted to play the part of noble prince, you weren’t going stop him. You waited as Jungkook pushed the guy’s chin down to his chest and motioned you to the hall, towards the many doors. Probably mostly bedrooms. You winced. Probably going to see more nipples. And dicks. And pussy.
Sigh.
And, yep, you were right.
Jungkook tried to shield your eyes, but to be honest, he looked way more scarred than you. You merely shook your head and moved on, door to door. Opened one and saw a girl in a tight black dress crawling on a bed, over a guy in a black biker jacket and acid wash jeans. The hole in the knee was so big you could see half of his pale leg. Hmph. Why bother even wearing pants?
You were about to close the door when you paused. Wait. You’ve seen that black mop of hair before. The girl was kissing down his neck, yanking down the white t-shirt and ripping it. You recognized the grunt of sleepy annoyance.
“Get off him.”
The girl shot up; red lipstick smeared from making out with his neck. You stepped inside and jerked your head towards the door. Voice cold and unrelenting.
“Out.”
She furrowed her brows at you. “Who the fuck are you?”
You narrowed your eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Dude’s asleep. You shouldn’t take advantage of someone who’s asleep.”
“He’s my boyfriend,” she shot back defiantly.
You snorted inelegantly. “No, he’s not. Don’t be stupid.”
The girl shoved herself off the bed, advancing on you, nasty snarl on her lips. “How would you know? Who do you think you are?”
“Not an idiot,” you barked sharply, completely forgetting Jungkook was behind you, gawking at this entire exchange. You looked her up and down and took a step towards her, the aggravation of the past hour reaching breaking point. All that time spent getting here, not being able to find Yoongi, and then discovering some bitch crawling all over him was pissing you off. Like everyone else, alcohol clung to her like the plague. She was furious, ready to catfight you, although you were pretty sure you were going to win this one because you were sober and your boots were a lot more stable than her tall heels.
“Look here, bitch, leave me and my boyfriend alo–”
You slapped her.
Hard.
Not holding back, not making a sound, just straight up slapped her across the face. The sound was so loud it could be heard over the bass of the music. She nearly crumpled at the force, gasping and choking at air as she stumbled, eyes wide in disbelief, slim hand cradling her face.
“He’s not your boyfriend,” you growled. Your voice was absolute zero with how cold it was. “He will never be your boyfriend. Now get the fuck out of my face before I rearrange yours into the next century.”
She squeaked at you.
Your eyes narrowed and you raised your hand again. She bolted, stumbling on her heels, seeing Jungkook staring, opening her mouth to say something, but you made an inhuman, grating noise deep in your throat. Her shaking eyes connected with yours and you cocked your head in the direction of the door, popping your neck loudly.
She scrambled out of there like her life depended on it.
It did, because you had enough at this point.
“Dumb bitch,” you spat, before releasing the tension from your shoulders. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook’s mouth wide open, deer-in-headlights look on his face. “What?”
“W… Why do you look so hot when you’re angry?”
You scoffed. “What are you talking about?”
“Fuck, you are damn hot when you’re angry.”
Deep, raspy voice that made your spine tingle. You turned your head to see Min Yoongi on his elbows, licking his pink lips. He was definitely drunker this time, cheeks flushed. His fair skin on his neck and cheeks were covered in red lipstick marks. You clicked your tongue at him.
“When did you wake up?”
Yoongi smirked.
You frowned.
“Maybe when you slapped her.” His dark eyes glittered in the low light of the bedroom, lips curving higher and revealing his teeth. “Maybe when you got her attention.” Full-on, open-mouthed smirk now, devilish and wicked. “Maybe when you opened the door.”
A muscle in your forehead twitched. You strode over, looking down. Yoongi slowly lifted his head, pink tongue sliding out and tracing his teeth, cocking an eyebrow. You clenched your jaw.
“I like your hair,” Yoongi purred softly. “You took my advice.”
“I didn’t care what color it was,” you responded evenly. “I left the hairstylist do what she wanted.”
Yoongi arched an eyebrow. “She made your hair match your body. Hot and sexy.”
You matched his raised brow. “You saying my hair wasn’t attractive before?”
Crafty dark brown eyes on yours, intoxicating you like whiskey.
“It always needed me to mess it up before it was truly as sexy as you.”
“Are you guys sure you’re not dating?”
Oh right.
Jungkook was still here.
You turned your head to face him. You hadn’t even noticed that he had walked all the way up to the bed, standing next to you. The door was closed. Who closed it? It was also locked. Your brows furrowed and your eyes flickered back to Jungkook. He was watching you, blond hair covering one chocolate orb, pink lips wet and slightly parted. Tan skin radiant in the low light.
“What are you still doing here?”
His visible eye shifted down your body, pausing at your legs and then shifting to Yoongi. Yoongi gave him a neutral expression. The eyes shifted back to you.
“I was going to help you carry him if hyung was still asleep.” His voice had dropped several octaves.
“Well, he’s obviously awake,” you said dismissively.
Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, more blond hair sliding down, shadowing his face.
“You want me to leave so you can fuck him? Or so he can fuck you?” Jungkook accused.
You raised your eyebrows.
“I told you he liked you.”
You exhaled, shifting your gaze to Yoongi. He was wiping the lipstick off his neck with the collar of his ruined shirt. He looked displeased, nose scrunching as he did so.
“Wanting me to desire him is not the same as liking someone.” You swung your head back to Jungkook, ticking your chin at him. “Isn’t that so, Jungkook?”
There was a moment of silence.
If silence could be bass-boosted music, screaming downstairs, and a bottle smashing somewhere nearby. But in this random bedroom, it was as if time stopped, you staring at Jungkook, Yoongi looking up to witness what was about to unfold, and your slow realization that Jungkook was not answering fast enough.
The younger man shook his blond bushel of hair very, very slowly.
“No, noona.”
His other eye was revealed, both of them trained on you.
“I want you to take my virginity.”
Silence.
He must be joking.
“And there it is, out in the open,” Yoongi mused.
Jungkook continued, hands in his pockets, chest sticking out from under the tight blue dress shirt.
“Hyung knows this. I told him.”
You let out a soft breath. “You know, Jungkook, you could get any bitch in this house.”
“Don’t want a bitch,” Jungkook retorted, dangerous edge to his voice, slipping into his Busan satoori. “Want you, noona.”
He was way too serious to not mean it. You tucked your hands into your hoodie pocket and flicked your head to remove red strands from your face. 
"Kinda out of left field, kid," you muttered.
You heard Yoongi sit up on the bed and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He shook his shoulders out and hooked his legs over the edge of the bed, sandwiching one of your thighs between his own. His shirt hung down, ruined and covered with red lipstick from where he tried to wipe it off his neck and cheeks. His neck was pink with irritation.
"Not really," Yoongi chuckled. "He's been eyeing you for a while now. You never noticed because you're too busy being crabby."
He wasn't touching you with his hands and insulting your character instead.
"Speak for yourself, grump."
Yoongi squeezed your thigh with his and you involuntarily shuddered at the slight skin on skin contact due to the giant hole in his pants. Shit. Yoongi snickered. 
"Are you guys dating?" Jungkook snapped irritably.
"No."
Both Yoongi and you said it at the same time, glaring at each other. Jungkook might as well have been a lamp. You stared deep into those mischievous brown orbs, black hair messy and covering his brows, teasing smile on his lips. Dating wasn’t the word for it. You weren’t sure there was a word for what Yoongi and you were doing. You could tell he didn’t know either.
It wasn’t dating, that’s for sure.
"Did you guys fuck on my bed or not?"
Before you could respond, Yoongi broke your gaze and looked straight at Jungkook. Jungkook's jaw was clenched tight, dark eyes flashing. Yoongi's voice was slipping into his Daegu satoori as well, deepening and slightly slurred from whiskey. 
"We did."
You clicked your tongue.
Great. Just great. 
"Ate her out and fucked her hard, all over your sheets. Right next to you. She even touched you."
"An accident," you hissed. 
Yoongi ignored you. "Her hand slid up your abs and chest." He chuckled. "It was sexy. You have a nice body, Jungkookie."
"Stop telling him this shit." You raised your hand to smack Yoongi in the arm but he whipped his head back to you, grabbing your wrist out of the air. You stiffened at the touch. He turned your palm to face Jungkook and directed his attention back to him. 
"This hand, in fact."
Were you surprised? No. That was the game. Push the limits, up the ante. You just didn’t think Yoongi would tell Jungkook something like that. Maybe he wouldn’t if he was fully sober. But Yoongi wouldn’t regret it either. He would roll with the wave, as usual.
You were a little irked that you weren’t the one who took the plunge first.
You finally snuck a glance at Jungkook. His jaw was no longer tense and his cheeks were flushed pink. He raised his head to look at you, blond locks swinging, and you looked away. Fucking Yoongi. Always trying to cause trouble. But that's why you kept fucking him. Because he was always finding ways to make your life interesting. 
Maybe you were addicted to the adrenaline he gave you.
Maybe you were just addicted to Yoongi. 
You sensed movement. You tried to pull your wrist out of Yoongi's grasp but he held it tightly. You finally looked back to glare at him, only to be greeted by the sight of Jungkook's blue shirt mostly unbuttoned, his sculpted abs and chest fully on display. Your eyes widened, taking a step back, realizing how close he was. Yoongi yanked you back, grin on his lips. 
A beat passed. 
Your gaze locked with his. 
Don't you dare, Min Yoongi. 
He planted your hand on Jungkook's torso. 
You tried to twist away, but Yoongi held you there, pressing your palm into Jungkook's hard muscles. The younger man sucked in a breath, surveying you through his lashes. A strange shiver traveled from your hand to your spine, pooling down to your core, setting it aflame. Yoongi slid your hand up to Jungkook's pecs. You could feel how hot and heavy Jungkook's breathing was on the back of your hand. His heartbeat raced under your fingers. 
You gulped. 
"Yoongi." Your eyes were on Jungkook and his blown-out pupils, blond bangs all over his forehead. Your pulse roared in your ears. "You said he was sappy. That it had to be the love of his life."
Yoongi chuckled. 
"Noona," Jungkook replied for him in his husky voice. "I’ve been planning for it to be you."
Your eyes flickered back to Yoongi. His other arm slid around your legs, pulling you to him. He made you breathless, looking down into those devilish eyes, pink lips parting a little. You could feel his hand on your thigh, stroking your skin, making you tremble with his touch.
"He asked you to take it," Yoongi purred softly. 
You inhaled deeply. Whiskey. Leather. Yoongi. Your hand was still on Jungkook's chest. You dug your nails into his skin a little. Jungkook moaned, breathy and deep. 
"I'm not taking anything," you whispered. 
Yoongi's hand released your wrist and slid up the back of your hand, each of his long fingers sliding between yours, pressing your joined touch into Jungkook’s chest. Fingers spread over his skin, his breathing vibrating though your palm. All Jungkook had to do was take a step back. 
Why wasn't he taking a step back?
Yoongi squeezed your fingers with his. You could feel the heat building inside you. Desire. His voice became smokey. Lustful. Purring your name softly. 
He could make you do anything when his voice became like that. 
"I'm telling you to take it."
Your mouth went dry.
"Why?"
Yoongi leaned forward, resting his chin right between your covered breasts. So close. Your heartbeat fluttered. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so very much. You wanted to kiss that naughty mouth, the mouth suggesting sinful and treacherous ideas. Whenever you were with Yoongi, danger always seemed like a good thing.
"Because you feel good when you do bad things."
God, Min Yoongi was a bad boy. 
"And I love watching you do bad things."
Dark orbs glittering with trouble. 
"I’m here with you."
I’m here with you.
His arm around your legs tightened. Your panties were absolutely soaked. Yoongi had you right where he wanted you. He knew it too, even as you pursed your lips. Yoongi finally looked away from you.
"You don't mind that, right, Jungkookie?"
Jungkook shook his head quickly. "No, hyung. Whatever..." He paused, knowing what he was about to say was wrong. His eyes flickered to you. You didn’t look at him. You just stared at the black pile of hair that was Min Yoongi.
Wondering what was going on in that head of his.
"Whatever it takes."
Yoongi removed his hand from Jungkook’s chest. You pulled yours back quickly, still not looking at Jungkook. Yoongi placed his large hands on your hips. Raised his head. Fuck. Trapping you in his devious eyes. He mouthed words at you. So sexy. So fuckable. You mouthed words back. You’re bad. Yoongi grinned, licking his teeth.
“Stand in front of us, Jungkook.”
And Yoongi spun you around to face him, pushing you into his arms. Jungkook’s hands gripped your upper arms, holding you in place. And, for once, Jungkook wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t stumbling into your car by mistake, he wasn’t reeking of alcohol and nervous ticks. If anything.
Jungkook smelled good.
You were staring into his tan chest. Slowly, you looked up. Up his pecs, up his prominent collarbones, up his shapely neck. You could smell the cologne, fresh like clean laundry mixed with the sharpness of the sea. Your eyes continued up, up his sharp jaw, up to the tiny mole under his lower lip, up to his high cheekbones, up into those chocolate orbs. His blond hair hovered over his eyes, shrouding them with gold. Jungkook sucked in a breath as you made eye contact. You cocked an eyebrow.
“I still don’t see why it has to be me.”
Jungkook licked his lips, leaning in.
“Has to be you, noona,” he whispered, breath hot against your lips.
For some reason your heart was beating fast now. Was it Yoongi’s hands sliding down to your thighs, squeezing them? Or was it Jeon Jungkook, pupils dilated and grip tight on your arms, nearly shirtless in front of you?
“I dream about you,” Jungkook breathed. “All the time. The only woman I’ve ever dreamed about touching me, teasing me, feeling all of me.” He frowned a little, tilting his head. “I had sex dreams before, but none of them felt real. None of them were like the ones I had with you. The ones with you were always extremely detailed. It was like all the things you did were really happening. I could finish with them.”
You didn’t have to guess what that meant.
“I could feel everything.”
Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, ash blond strands mixing with dark red.
“Your nails digging into my skin, you moaning above me.”
His eyes burned with determination. Yoongi’s hands slid up your legs, fingertips sliding under your soaking panties. You were so distracted by Jungkook’s words that you barely felt it. But your body remembered. Your body remembered that orgasm right above Jungkook, Yoongi’s tongue inside you, your hand on his abs, nails curling into them as you came. Jungkook’s voice was so low that it felt as if your heartbeat was resonating with it.
“Make my dreams real.”
Yoongi circled your clit with his index finger, not touching it, making you gasp.
“Taint me, noona,” Jungkook murmured.
You pressed your lips against his and Yoongi pressed his finger against your clit. You whimpered into Jungkook’s mouth, hand slipping inside his shirt to hold his waist, kissing him deeper. Jungkook’s hand came up to cup your face, holding you close as you moaned, feeling Yoongi stroke your sensitive bundle of nerves slowly, working you up. His other hand was holding your ass, squeezing it hard. In comparison, Jungkook’s lips were soft, tongue hesitantly sliding into your lips. You latched around it, sucking on it roughly. Jungkook squeaked, trying to pull away, but you held on, tugging as you bobbed your head back and forth, eyes cracking open as you moaned deep in your throat.
Jungkook was staring at you, fascinated.
You released his tongue and snaked yours into his mouth. Pushing it in, sliding it back out, steadily and deliberately. Jungkook’s eyelashes fluttered, pressing his body into yours, needy cries in his chest, trying to get more. Pleasure spread throughout your hips, spurred upward by Yoongi’s touch. You felt heady and tense, increasing the force you were using to fuck Jungkook’s mouth, breathing in shallow gasps, closing your eyes again, so close, so close. So wrong, making out with Jungkook as Yoongi stimulated your clit to orgasm.
So wrong, but so, so fucking good.
You sucked your tongue back and moaned directly into Jungkook’s mouth as you came, legs shaking, clit throbbing against Yoongi’s fingers as your panties soaked even more, the scent of sex suddenly prominent in this random bedroom. Jungkook gasped, body shuddering and shaking at your exhale, roughly shoving you into his hard chest. Your crotch hit his and you could feel his erection through his tight pants.
The party kept thriving, bass booming the walls, blind to the events about to unfold.
Jungkook drew back, panting. You felt Yoongi withdraw his hand, heard him lick it off. But you were staring at Jungkook, at his swollen lips, at his blue shirt half-pulled off from your touch, revealing his right shoulder covered in black tattoos, blond hair covering half his face.
Beautiful and dangerous, like an angelic incubus.
You felt Yoongi’s hands on your hips again, unzipping your skirt. Slipping it down. Your body reacted, kicking it away. Jungkook’s eyes were fixated on your black panties, pushed to one side from Yoongi’s touch, soaked with your juices.
“Take off your shirt, Jungkook,” Yoongi said as he reached down to unzip your boots.  
Jungkook yanked his shirt out of his pants and tossed it aside, watching Yoongi slowly strip you. Taking your boots and setting them next to the bed, gripping your hoodie and yanking it over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, but he dumped it next to him, showing you the phone and keys were still in the center pocket. You frowned at him, but Yoongi shrugged, unhooking your black bra. You held onto it, covering yourself. Yoongi raised an eyebrow.
“Let him see the tits.”
You clicked your tongue. Then you turned back to face Jungkook, challenging him.
“Jungkook can come and see for himself.”
Jungkook swallowed, taking a step towards you. Chewing on his lip, eyes fixated on your hands holding up your bra. You felt Yoongi’s fingers hook around the sides of your panties. Jungkook stopped right in front of you. Reached forward and gripped one of the bra cups. You held tight, not letting go. Jungkook’s jaw tensed and he yanked at it, pulling it out of your grasp.
You lowered your hands.
“Fuck…” Jungkook breathed. “They’re prettier than I thought.” His hand raised, but then he stopped, looking at you hesitantly. “Can I… touch them?”
You arched a brow. “Never touched tits before?”
“I want to ask you,” Jungkook replied softly. “I want to know you want it too.”
Chocolate eyes framed in gold, enchanting you.
You reached up and took his wrist, guiding his hand to your chest. You were breathing hard, making them bounce a little. Pressed his palm into your hard nipple, shivering at the different hand, the different feeling. You felt Yoongi slide your panties down, down. You slid Jungkook’s hand down, wrapping his fingers around your nipple. He gasped, rolling the nub between his fingers, watching your face as you moaned, Yoongi’s fingers crawling between your legs once again.
You pointed to your other nipple.
“Mouth, here.” Stared into Jungkook’s ravenous eyes. “Please.”
Jungkook bent down and licked your nipple, coating it with saliva. Your hand slid up the back of his head, tangling in the soft blond locks, pulling him closer.
“More, Jungkook…”
He whimpered your name, pinching your nipple as you said his. You gasped softly as his lips closed around your nipple, sucking lightly, tongue pressed against the tip and moving it around, rubbing the other at the same time. You sank your teeth into your lower lip as you felt Yoongi slide two fingers into you, so easy because he had made you cum beforehand, fucking you as Jungkook made out with your tits. You stared down Jungkook’s muscular back, admiring the way his muscles rippled as he moved. Your hips bucked in Yoongi’s hand, leaning forward so he could finger you deeper, shoving your nipple into Jungkook’s mouth. He sucked hard, nipping lightly, and you threw your head back, pleasure flowing all over. Jungkook switched sides and hands, rubbing your wet nipple with his thumb as he teased the other, flicking the hardened nub with his tongue. Rougher, matching Yoongi’s pace in your pussy, shoving his fingers so far into your pussy that you felt his knuckles.
Yoongi against your back, purring your name.
“Cum for me,” he murmured, low and raspy. “Cum all over my hand as Jungkook abuses your nipples.”
Fuck, his satoori, his words.
Yoongi had you wrapped around his fingers in all senses.
“Mm, fuck, fuck…”
You moaned loudly as you came, legs shuddering, rutting your breasts into Jungkook’s face as your hand pressed him into your tits, grinding your hips into Yoongi’s hand as your pussy clenched around his fingers, drenching them with your orgasm once again. Jungkook moaned into your chest, burying his nose into your tits, tongue pressed against your skin.
“Ah, fuck, you taste so good, noona…”
Yoongi chuckled, slowly pulling his fingers out of you.
“You haven’t tasted anything, Jungkook.”
And then Yoongi fell back against the bed, taking you with him. You had to release Jungkook’s head, whining at the loss of his warmth. Yoongi dipped his knees down and shoved them between your thighs, spreading them wide. He slid you down his body, forcing you to expose your wet pussy to Jungkook’s wide, voracious eyes.
“Have a taste.”
Jungkook’s eyes flickered to you. At this point, it was doomed. You wanted Jungkook’s tongue and your needed it now. Your voice was grating, tainted with lust.
“Get on your knees and taste me, Jungkook,” you growled.
Jungkook obeyed immediately, kneeling before you and crawling up to your thighs, extending his pink tongue, nearly drooling. Chocolate eyes watching your face.
Yoongi shoved his wet fingers into your lips.
You grunted in protest, but then Jungkook’s tongue touched your wet slit, lapping greedily as he watched Yoongi’s fingers slide in and out of your mouth. You moaned around them, licking off your taste as Jungkook moaned into your pussy, coating his tongue with your sweet, thick juices.
“O-oh, fuck, hyung, noona…” he panted hotly into your core. “Tastes so fucking good.”
“Told you,” Yoongi chuckled triumphantly, slowly fucking your mouth.
“Wanna be in here so bad, hyung…”
You make a gargled noise around his fingers and he pulled them out, humming in his chest so your head vibrated with the sound.
“I’m not taking him raw,” you gasped out as Jungkook’s tongue swiped over your clit. Your breathing hitched as he lapped at it experimentally and he continued after witnessing your reaction. Your hand slid down and gripped Yoongi’s wrist, moan torn out of you as Jungkook’s licking intensified. Almost too much, forcing you to tighten your core, juices leaking out of your slit and onto his chin.
“Don’t worry. I came prepared.”
Your jaw tightened as you neared orgasm. Of course, Yoongi came prepared.
“You planned this.”
“Did I?”
Far too amused and teasing to be innocent. Your back arched as Jungkook increased the suction, your head tipped back against Yoongi’s chest, barely being able to see him upside down, mouth open as you panted. Yoongi smirked at you.
“Or did I simply assist little Jungkookie in convincing noona to take his virginity?”
His words and your orgasm hit you like a truck, hands flying up to grip Yoongi’s shoulders as you nearly screamed Jungkook’s name, thighs threatening to clamp his head if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s strong legs spreading them out. Your body fell limp onto Yoongi’s chest, flooding Jungkook’s mouth with your orgasm. Jungkook groaned, drinking it up, hands coming up to hold your hips down as he sucked it out of you.
“Not all of it, Jungkook,” Yoongi warned. “Keep her wet for you.”
Jungkook whined, drawing back, lips shiny and glossy with your cum. His pink tongue snaked out, swiped over his lips, scooping it all into his mouth, the action obscene and arousing all at once.
“Fuck, noona’s pussy tastes so good…”
Yoongi lifted your limp body and dragged you up the bed, placing his head on the pillows and positioning you on top of him. You scoffed, back and ass pressed against Yoongi’s still fully clothed body.
“You want him to fuck me on top of you?”
“Of course,” Yoongi answered smugly. “I can help him get into position and he can get back at me for fucking you on top of him.”
“You didn–”
Yoongi pinched your nipples, cutting you off as he flicked the sensitive nubs, turning you into a moaning mess in seconds. Your legs tried to close, but once again Yoongi hooked his around yours and spread them out for Jungkook, who was stripping off his pants. Your eyes widened seeing Jungkook’s cock straining against his boxer briefs. Yoongi had a great dick. The best dick. But Jungkook had never been in a woman before and he was impossibly hard because of it, gasping as he pushed his underwear down, leaking pre-cum everywhere. Either that or he really was very, very turned on by you.
For the first time throughout this entire night, it really hit you that Jungkook actually liked you. That he was not a fuckboy and he genuinely wanted you to take his virginity, so much so that, somehow, he convinced Yoongi, your partner-in-crime, your other half in this long-winded sexual escapade of pushing each other closer and closer to the edge, until one of you fell.
Yoongi clasped his hands around your upper arms, sucking in an excited breath.
Your breathing caught in your throat.
Or maybe.
Maybe both of you had already fallen.
And both of you were twisted enough to be ridiculously turned on by Jungkook crawling onto the bed, eyes glazed with desire, desperate to fuck you. Yoongi tapped your arm and pressed a condom into your palm.
“Put it on him.”
You motioned Jungkook forward and he scooted up, sucking in his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath quivered as you ripped open the condom, reaching awkwardly to roll it down his thick cock. You inhaled sharply, feeling his warmth against your fingers. Your eyes flickered up to him and he swallowed, chest rattling nervously.
“H… How do I…?”
“Hands on the bed,” Yoongi said behind you. Jungkook placed his hands on the bed, on either side of Yoongi’s arms, next to your head. He stared into your eyes. You placed your hands on his hips and scooted him down so he was positioned above you.
“Give me one of my legs, Yoongi,” you said softly, still keeping eye contact. Yoongi let go of your right leg and you raised it, Jungkook moving his hand so you could place your calf on his shoulder.
“Do I just…?”
“Down.”
He missed.
“Try again,” Yoongi whispered gently. “Hyung will help you.”
Jungkook chewed on his lip and lowered his hips again, gasping as Yoongi’s fingers wrapped around his cock and led him to your pussy. You lifted your hips so Yoongi could see better. The head pressed against your entrance.
“A-ah…” you breathed. “There.”
“Push,” Yoongi instructed.
Jungkook slowly slid in. He winced. “She’s too tight.”
“Relax,” Yoongi chided you. “He’s not me. He can’t handle all that yet.”
“I am,” you shot back. “He’s not pushing hard enough.”
Yoongi huffed. “Fine. Shove it all in there, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Won’t that hurt you?”
Instead of waiting for Yoongi to answer, your hands came up and grabbed Jungkook’s hips, forcing his cock deep into you. He yelped at the sudden rush of pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head. You held him down, not letting him move, trying very hard not to tighten around his dick because, holy fuck, Jeon Jungkook had a nice cock, filling you up and stretching you out with his hardness, unforgiving and wonderful, reminding you of Yoongi’s.
Except, well, Yoongi usually didn’t look like he was going to pass out.
You had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t laugh. Yoongi pinched your arm, already knowing your reaction. You hissed, pulsing around Jungkook’s cock. The younger man moaned, lowering his head, blond hair falling like a curtain. His eyes found yours. Jungkook’s gaze so intense it made your shiver, nails digging into his hips.
Outside the locked bedroom door, someone was yelling at someone else about cheating or something frivolous like that.
“You can move whenever you’re ready, Jungkook,” Yoongi finally said.
“Excuse me, I’m right here,” you interjected.
“Shh, don’t complain.” Yoongi’s hand stroked your red hair, flaring it out on his chest. “Let Jungkookie use you.”
Your chest tightened.
You felt yourself get wetter around Jungkook’s cock.
“What did you say to me?” you breathed. One of your hands lowered from Jungkook’s hip and gripped Yoongi’s wrist tightly. The tone of your voice changed, not quite so harsh anymore, turning needy and thin, breathless. Jungkook was watching you curiously. You felt your ears heat.
Yoongi’s free hand slid around your waist. You couldn’t see his face, but you saw Jungkook’s eyes slide upwards, observing his hyung. A mischievous spark suddenly appeared in those dark brown eyes. Yoongi cupped your breast, stroking your nipple lightly. Shallow, tight breaths, waiting for Yoongi’s response.
“I said,” Yoongi drawled. “Let Jungkookie use you.”
Oh no.
Oh shit.
Why were you suddenly so horny? It suddenly got so hot, suddenly so aware you were sandwiched between Jeon Jungkook’s hard dick and Min Yoongi’s fully clothed body, and Jungkook was going to fuck you into this random bed and into Yoongi himself. So very wrong. So very bad.
And you wanted it.
Jungkook raised his hips and pushed back into you, clenching his jaw. You were so wet that it was easy, not enough for your sudden hunger.
“Not too far,” Yoongi instructed. “You’re going to fall out if you pull out too far.” Yoongi nudged your hip. “Up.” You raised your hips and pressed your thigh against your chest. “Jungkook, angle yourself higher.”
Jungkook shifted and got more on his knees. “Like this?”
“Mhm. Go harder.”
Jungkook slapped his hips into you and you gasped, pressing your head into Yoongi’s chest. He stopped, looking worried.
“She’s fine.”
“Are you su–?”
“Jungkook,” you snarled. “Listen to him and just fuck my damn hole so I can get off.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at your dirty words. Yoongi chuckled.
“She’ll be fine, Jungkook. Focus on yourself for now. Don’t go faster or you’ll cum too fast,” Yoongi cautioned. “At least for the first time. Go harder so you can feel it all.”
Jungkook bit his lip and began to slowly, but roughly, fuck you. Smacking your hips together with force, gasping at every descent, your pussy squeezing the full length when it was inside you. His gasps turned into moans, your breathy name, eyes closing as he thrust into you.
“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook groaned. “Fuck, she’s so wet, so tight…”
“Like your dreams?” Yoongi teased.
Jungkook seemed not to notice. “Better. Fuck, so much better, hyung, oh my God…”
“Harder,” Yoongi commanded. “I know you can go harder, Jungkookie.”
You moaned deeply as Jungkook rammed his hips into you, the wet squelch loud and lewd, so obvious if someone was listening outside, even through the music. But none of you cared, none of you noticed the bed squeaking as Yoongi spurred Jungkook on gently, having him increase the pace, making your body shudder with pleasure, mouth opening and tongue hanging out as you gasped for breath.
“You wanna cum, Jungkook?” Yoongi asked breathlessly, becoming hard under you as you cried out in pleasure, the base of Jungkook’s cock splattered with your juices.
“Not yet,” Jungkook whined.
“Alright, stop for a second.”
Yoongi placed a hand on Jungkook’s waist and pushed him all the way into you. You whimpered, so close to orgasm but cut off by Jungkook stopping, clenching around his cock as the head hit you deep inside.
Yoongi dropped his voice, speaking to you.
“Give him a hug.”
You gripped Jungkook’s cock and pulsated around it. Jungkook groaned, throwing his head back as his cock throbbed against your walls, roughly massaged by your pussy.
“Oh, fuck me…”
Jungkook began to move again, harder and faster now, lost in his lust, chasing his pleasure.
“Doesn’t it feel nice?” Yoongi purred to you. Your heartbeat skipped as Jungkook pounded you into Yoongi, biting your lip hard and whimpering as he fucked you mercilessly, lack of practice making it an erratic rhythm, watching his thick cock pump in and out of you, so good, so rough, using you.
Your name drifted from Yoongi’s lips, smokey and devious, driving you insane. Your head tipped back, staring at the ceiling, gasping as Yoongi’s words worked into you.
“You love it, don’t you?” Yoongi drawled. “You love Jungkook using you, fucking you like his own personal gloryhole, hm?”
Oh, fuck.
You whined pathetically, liquid gushing down Jungkook’s cock as you came, core tightening, Jungkook fucking you harder, grunting as he clenched his jaw, feeling you massage his length harshly. Yoongi pinched your nipples, lengthening your orgasm, and you squeezed your eyes shut, pleasure overwhelming your senses, consuming you, feeling nothing but Jungkook’s cock, Yoongi’s hands, and Yoongi’s words corrupting you.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy letting Jungkook use you like this,” Yoongi growled. “So generous, letting Jungkook fuck your tight little hole with his big cock, hm?” He rolled your nipples in his fingers and rubbed them hard.
“A-ah, Yoongi!”
“No, no,” Yoongi scolded, pinching them firmly and making your squeal. “Tell Jungkook how good he’s doing. Tell him how good he feels inside you, naughty girl.”
You opened your eyes to see Jungkook’s sweaty face, brows furrowed, jaw tight as he smacked your hips together over and over, veins popping in his neck and forehead. His cock was jerking inside you, close. So close.
“F-fuck, Jungkook,” you gritted out, feeling Yoongi release your nipples and bounce your tits in time with Jungkook’s thrusts. “Fuck, you’ve doing so good, can’t believe this is your first time, you’re so fucking strong and so fucking big, fuck…”
Jungkook’s dark eyes fixated on you, your bouncing tits, your open mouth, your glazed eyes, hips fucking him back as he fucked you.
“It’s because you have the perfect pussy, noona,” he growled, leaning down, pressing you into Yoongi, getting a deeper angle, nearly hitting your cervix. His breath was hot and erotic against your face, eyes flickering up to Yoongi before boring into yours, capturing you, dragging into his pace and his cock slamming into your hips.
“The perfectly tight little gloryhole for me to use.”
You cried out, something inside you snapping, cumming again all over Jungkook’s cock, your juices sliding down your thighs and his thighs, smearing into Yoongi’s jeans, dripping everywhere, so much, oh, God, so fucking intense that your pussy clamped around Jungkook’s cock. He moaned your name right into your face, thrusting one last time, pumping the condom full, stretching it out against your walls, so much you could feel it and his cock throbbing against your walls, trying to get it all out.
Yoongi didn’t even bother to ask. He simply reached down and pushed Jungkook back a little, feeling for the bottom of the condom and pushing him out of you. Jungkook whined, but Yoongi pulled you away from him.
“It’s too much,” Yoongi mumbled. “How long have you been holding out? Fuck…”
He pulled the condom off him and it was still dribbling out. Yoongi grabbed your hand and wrapped it around Jungkook’s cock, holding you in place with his. You were too tired to focus, too exhausted to realize what was going on.
Yoongi began to pump Jungkook with your hand, slowly. He was still so hard, veins imprinting into your palm, cum dripping all over your and Yoongi’s fingers. Jungkook whined, wincing at the sensitivity, but Yoongi was careful, sliding your palm up to the head and squeezing it firmly but not too tightly. Slowly, slowly, bringing Jungkook back down.
“Party’s dying,” Yoongi breathed. “We gotta get out of here.”
You were naked. Jungkook was naked. Your lower back was killing you. Yoongi’s blood alcohol level was far too high to drive even if he sounded sober. You sucked in a breath and shoved your face into the unknown sheets, groaning.
“Give me a minute, fuck.”
Shit, you just wanted to sleep.
-
third act. was it a dream a–dick–ted au
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masterpost
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satnin-darling · 3 years
Text
Still friends? (m) | II. | Two Shot | Kim Namjoon, 8.6k
Pairing(s): Namjoon x Reader
Summary: Seasons change and so do temperaments. With more time spent together, you and Namjoon become as thick as thieves. You carry on sleeping together but there was an added difference: feelings. It catches you off guard sometimes though you make sure to push them down - until you couldn’t. And it seemed that Namjoon feels the same.
Warnings/Tags: RATED M (18+) for language; smut (fem-reader; penetrative sex; cowgirl/riding; mentions of a blow-job; Namjoon cockblocks himself lmao); discussions involving privilege, expectations, gender studies statistics (lol Jungkook’s project for his extra credit module), brief references to exam grades; again - mutual pining blocked by mutual stubbornness; minor angst; fluff; non-idol!AU - University/ friends with benefits to lovers
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I recommend reading Just Friends since there are references from that across this two-shot and it's also good for context :)
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-
The rain pelts outside, the steady drumming against the frosted window was rhythmic, soothing even. You adjust yourself on top of Namjoon, straddling his lap while he scooted upwards, further up the bed, making room. He looks at you as you slip your top above your head, your tits bouncing from the way the fabric brought them up only to let them down. You liked how he looked at you like this, his eyes glazed over, focused solely on you. He doesn’t move, not one inch, until you lift yourself over his cock, already sheathed, now poised below you. But he blinks, as if breaking the trance. You wait because you knew he was going to say something.
“I was thinking about pebbles,” he said. You tilt your head, raise your eyebrows, and lazily run the head of his cock along your pussy, seeing him flinch at the sensation.
“Go on,” you said, opening the floor for discussion since you were generous, despite the task at hand.
“About how they’re mostly smooth, like almost in perfect ah - ”
Of course, your generosity only extended so far as you sank over his cock, moaning as his hands rest on your hips, his fingers digging down as you took him all in.
“And?” You asked, clenching around him, purposefully making it harder for him to carry on the discussion.
He ran his hands up, till they cupped your breasts, raising himself up so he could kiss you, his tongue sliding along yours languidly, to savour you. At this, you circle your arms around his neck, moving your hips, rocking them, enjoying how he felt inside you. But your kiss doesn’t last long as he pulls back to speak.
“They’re worn down over and over, like in a series of incidents and coincidences,” he said. You smiled, finding humour in it all. Namjoon would be the only person you knew who would start a discussion in the middle of sex.
“Mmhm,” you said, rocking your hips again, this time, grinding down, taking advantage of the friction, your soft moans on his lips as you kissed him. But he pulls back again, kissing down your neck so he could speak.
“And pebbles don’t really have edges, so they’re neither ovals nor circles,” he continued, his warm breath fanning your skin, you retaliate his untimely conversation (mostly with himself) by tightening around him, to which he responded with his hands sliding up your back.
Finally.
You pull your hips forward, he gets the message and reclines, back on the mattress, hands back on your hips. You move, your thighs bearing most of the work, you rise and fall over his cock, your moans slipping past your lips as you see him press his head against the bed, the tendons on his neck rising. You place your hands on his chest, the hard muscles flexing under your touch, you lock your arms, your tits pressing together between them as you fucked him, his cock stretching your walls.
“Shit,” he hissed, lifting his legs as you manage a pace that make your muscles burn from effort, but that didn’t matter, the pleasure you felt eclipsed it and your nails dug crescents onto his skin, you drag them down leaving a red and raw trail. He pulls you down, your bare chests meeting, soft against hard flesh. You keep moving, your moans against his ear as he locks your upper body with his strong arms, leaving room for your hips to ram up and down, your pussy so wet and slick that his cock almost slips out.
“Joon, fuck, you feel fucking amazing,” you praised, and he groaned against your skin, the rain drums on the window, sounding like pebbles rolling down a hard surface. His arms grip you so tightly that you couldn’t move, so he began to thrust upwards, harsh slaps echoing in the space, your eyes fluttering shut. His hand finds your hair, a firm tug, exposing your throat, his lips finding the pulse, his tongue laving over the surface, goosebumps erupting as he fucked you harder.
“Ditto,” he grunted.
You would have laughed if you were given the chance, but he went faster than before, taking the breath from you as you held yourself above him. It was so much pleasurable torture that you unravel, your orgasm rippling through your entire body that you bury your face in his neck, your staggered yelps loud, Fuck, keep going, you gasped as your pussy clamps around him so violently that you feel him still inside you. His muscles tensed, his breath forming into a drawn-out groan that you shudder above him, the latex of the condom swelling from spurts of his cum.
Afterwards, you both go slack, and you drape yourself over him, neither of you have any energy left to even move. You hear his heart, and it was the same as yours, the way it beats rapidly and forcefully against its confines. You feel something different; you feel something scratch against your own heart. So, you shut your eyes, glad that you weren’t facing him. You try to stay in the moment, you bring up the walls, you tell yourself it’s just sex.
-
Open day was included in a week dedicated to enticing prospective students about the benefits and wonders of higher education, specifically at your university. You were working as a library steward whilst Namjoon was a student representative, enlightening visitors about his course. Advertisements that laud the university were draped along its walls, the poles that normally bear the university flag are now supporting images of student reps and councillors beaming down.
You met Namjoon in line of a food truck for warm drinks and snacks, right behind a couple who took the time off view the manicured campus that was meant to distract from the utilitarian buildings that the prospectus deliberately cropped out. You saw their kids sat on the concrete ledge; their eyes glued to their phones. Next to you was Namjoon, who wore a blue fisherman’s beanie, which made his short, cropped hair stick out in haphazard angles.
“What are you having?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The weather was still cold, and for lack of any dramatisation, any exposed skin was prone to frost bite.
“Might have another coffee, everyone seems to want to visit the library,” you complained. You had spent the past three hours with your arms outstretched as a form of open body language, your cheeks strained from smiling and talking.
“I’ll probably have the same, I didn’t realise that parents could have a lot of questions. I feel like my brain is melting,” he replied, tapping his shoe against the concrete to generate some movement against the numbing winds. The couple in front turned their heads at the sudden noise, you and Namjoon bowed in apology.
You two fell silent for some time as the line continued to shrink. Ahead, there was a family with a child in a stroller. He was throwing a tantrum until he was handed a tablet, to which he entered into a voluntary silence. You and Namjoon were taken by the conversation that the couple started in front. Being as nosey as each other, both of you listened in. They sounded like they were great people to listen to, hopefully allowing the time to pass by quicker and stave off thoughts of freezing. As the conversation came into focus, you realised that they were talking about the child with the tablet.
“The kid’s just sitting there with an iPad, can you believe that? Did we even give Seungri that when he was younger?” The man laughed, crossing his arms tightly over his belly.
You found yourself nodding slightly, wanting to interject with your opinion. To unearth your own assessment of the lazy parenting happening before you, to enlighten them about the perils of technology, how it can cause damage to the developing mind of infants. Namjoon gave you a knowing look, then looked at the toddler who seemed content as their small fingers dragged up and down the screen.
“That’s around a thousand dollars in equivalent,” the woman replied, tipping her head down as she said it with disgust. You raised your eyebrows at your own thoughts, which was misaligned. You stepped forward as you neared the counter, Namjoon hung back to tie his shoelaces.
“Imagine giving a small baby something that’s worth that much,” the man said, before he said his orders to the smiling employee.
-
The university had set up some outside heaters which bordered the buildings so that people didn’t crowd the inside foyer. Namjoon managed to snatch a spot and now, you were biting into a granola bar and sipping a hot cup of instant coffee. You sniffed as another gust of wind blew, this time, freezing your fingers as they peeked from your sleeves.
“You know that couple earlier,” you said, looking at Namjoon who licked his lips from eating a hotdog. There were crumbs on the side of his lips which fell onto his clothes, right next to the “Hi, my name is Kim Namjoon, ask me anything!” badge.
“Mhmm,” he hummed, catching the few bits of bread with his mouth by tipping the hotdog down. You chewed the granola, grinding it in your molars till they crunched to a pulp. The berries that were slotted inside were harder to break down, so you swallowed them.
“I mistook the angle they were coming from,” you said, kicking a fallen leaf with the toe of your shoe. Namjoon stopped mid-chew to look at you, confused.
“They were talking about how a little kid had his own iPad, something that’s worth over a thousand dollars equivalent,” you said, remembering the woman’s tone of disgust at the sight of something so valuable in the hands of a toddler. Namjoon nodded, resuming his eating.
“That is a lot of money to give to a small child,” he said, shutting his eyes because he took too big of a bite so that it was more difficult to swallow.
“I thought they were coming from a place where technology could be poisoning their children. I disregarded how much it costs, the proportion of it all,” you said, biting the last section of the granola. Namjoon took your cup of coffee and took a sip.
“Okay I didn’t think about it in the way that you did, but I see what you mean,” he said.
“I don’t know. Makes me think about privilege more,” you replied.
“Like how class can be a bubble?” He asked, handing you back your cup. You scowled since he drank more than you anticipated.
“Yeah, like how privilege can inform that and then shape your view of reality.”
“But it’s not static, if you’re willing, you can always shift perspective,” he replied as he adjusted his beanie after he saw his reflection, tucking some strands inside.
He handed you the remnants of the paper casing since you were nearer the bin. You threw it along with your cup. You began to walk towards the library, where most of the crowd was corralled.
“If you compare your relative privilege to others, you can alter your overall perception of your own reality,” he said, staying close to you as the crowd grew. After he said that, you passed the stroller with the toddler, who began to fuss, shoving the iPad to his doting father. You thought of something else to say but you were already at the entrance of the library, he placed his hand on your shoulder.
“I’ll see you later?”
You nodded, adjusting the sash you wore over your outfit so that the letters were clearer.
“Good luck with all the questions,” you said, smiling at him. He returned it, his dimples appearing instantly.
“Thanks.”
-
Namjoon had his cactus sheets again and you were laid across it, your attention on the pitted ceiling, the lone bulb without its shade. You both came back from the open day bone tired, the mental and physical exhaustion overtaking you. The door slammed open as he made his way back from the bathroom, collapsing next to you, sending water droplets on your arm and cheek. You looked at him as he was running his fingers through his short hair, wetting the sheets, darkening the smiling cactuses.
“Sorry,” he said, halting the vigorous movements.
You sighed, shifting so you could lie on your side to look at him. He was only wearing shorts, becoming comfortable around you, then again so were you. There was the distance that you maintained, about a hand’s width between. His profile was so familiar to you nowadays, the slopes of him, the way he can be someone you can easily pick out, even in a crowd.
“Who are we really?” He asked, glancing at you, his wet hair sticking to his temple. You shrugged.
“It depends… it could be what people expect of you? Or other things, like our dreams, goals, even achievements,” you replied, but you were thinking up of other answers. Namjoon was quiet beside you, his attention back on the lone bulb, what you both usually looked to when you felt like you were looking at each other for too long. You were brought back to your home, your smiling parents, your religious upbringing.
“I’m a different person when I come home,” you said.
“What?”
You wrung your hands together, feeling weird, as if speaking it out loud would cause a fissure in the room. Yoongi knew how you were at home, but you never really broached the topic, you had boundaries that you adhered to. With Namjoon, those tend to blur.
“Yeah. Um, I grew up in a religious setting. My parents are very devout, and they um… they see me as the same kind of girl,” you said, your tone veering into discomfort at the end. Namjoon moved and the bed dipped due to his size.
“But you don’t believe in god anymore,” he said, making you smile.
“They don’t have to know that. What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” you said. Yet there was a part of you, albeit slight, that knew that silence was a just a more muted way to lie.
“You?”
“My parents?”
“Yeah. What are they like?” You asked, recalling this elaborate narrative you constructed around his family. You remembered how he wanted to prove something to his parents despite having a talent for music. Namjoon made a noise, somewhat between a grunt and a hum. In your peripheries, he had placed his arms under his head, moving it to make himself more comfortable.
“Oh, quite normal but they care a lot about appearances. I tell myself that they’re lucky that I can handle the pressure,” he replied.
You wondered what ‘normal’ really meant in this context. Normal parents didn’t destroy their kids work. Normal parents should make their kids feel safe enough to be themselves.
“They must be really proud though,” you said, choosing to assume that he had it better than you. Namjoon laughed, suggesting that something you said was self-explanatory.
“They are. It’s easy to please them because I can. I guess we’re the same in that way,” he said, grouping you in the same box. You could see yourself agreeing since you had your own personas, the characters that you slipped into, like a second skin.
“So… who are we really?” He asked after some time, finding his way closer to you, his finger tracing up your arm, the skin erupting into gooseflesh.
"What we accept?” You replied, turning it into a question because it still somehow sounded vague and elusive.
“Or what we allow to be important,” he said, and you fall silent because it made sense.
“Hm.”
-
Spring arrives and the colours that surrounded you became more saturated. It was late afternoon and your classes were easing off in preparation for the onslaught of exams. The narrowed streets that would light up in neon were slowly waking up, the students dragging themselves from the confines of the library to have an alcohol induced break. Yoongi was due to meet you at a corner booth, whereas Jimin and Jungkook were already there. Walking beside you in measured strides, Namjoon had shouldered your bag along with his.
“What’s in here?” He asked, shifting the strap up his shoulders for the umpteenth time. You appeared embarrassed at the number of books you shoved in there.
“Some reading for my thesis,” you replied, recalling how they were mostly hardbacks. They were probably the reason why he had slowed, not because he was trying to match pace with you.
“Is that due soon?” He asked, stopping suddenly to let someone though.
“Not for a while, but the books I have will get taken out soon, I wanted to get a head start on the loans,” you said.
You reached the entrance of the pub and found your seating without much difficulty since you saw Jungkook’s purple hair gleaming beneath the soft lighting. He gave you a nod of acknowledgment. As you slid in, Jimin was in mid-conversation, so he waved at both of you and Namjoon before resuming.
“You guys had a busy day?” Namjoon asked, craning his head so he saw the large poster that Jungkook was pouring all his attention over. There were nods in place of answers. The purple strands fell over Jungkook’s eyes as he scrunched his nose while Jimin explained the numbers.
-
Later, Yoongi had joined and sat across you with a large glass of beer, his expression unreadable as you talked with Namjoon at length about the inadequacy of Jungkook’s statistics, who had long given up, leaving it up to you to figure it out.
“Are these statistics for your project?” Namjoon asked, wedging you between him and Jungkook to take a closer look.
“I’m doing a module on gender studies, and we had to get some statistics in the workplace,” Jungkook said, dragging his finger down the bullet points with numerous percentages. Jimin made a noise of disapproval.
“You should have more numbers,” Jimin said, pointing to a box with two tables. Namjoon leaned back so you could see better but it appeared that what Jimin had suggested was reasonable.
“I mean, men do tend to go for higher paying jobs like lawyers, doctors, civil servants,” Namjoon said, thumbing down his phone. You sighed, but it ended in a scoff.
“Yeah, and women tend to go for lower paying jobs, like female lawyers, female doctors, and female civil servants,” you quipped, catching Jimin’s eye as you snickered. Yoongi lifted his glass and took a huge gulped, his face constricting as the liquid swelled his throat.
“What about you, Yoongi-hyung?” Jimin asked, stepping into a role of familiarity. You had introduced Yoongi to them sometime in the previous semester and he got along well with them. Yoongi set his glass down, glancing at you and shrugging.
“Both are fair, but you could focus on presentation,” he said, taking it upon himself to drag the paper down so he could see it the right-side up. You watched as he pored over the numbers, his eyes narrowing at the disorganised mess.
“If you don’t want to dig for more data, present it in a way that shows there’s a structure. You already have a viewpoint, just convince them,” he advised. You cracked a smile. It was a very Yoongi-way of handling things. Jimin nodded, seeing the potential in the suggestion.
“Were you thinking of attending university at all, hyung?” Jimin asked, while Jungkook scrawled over the paper, making quick annotations.
“He’s anti-school but pro-education,” you said, giving a knowing smile to Yoongi, who nodded at your words. Jimin opened his mouth to say ‘Ah’ and nodded.
“I don’t like the education system, but I like learning,” Yoongi said, reiterating what you said. At this point, Namjoon stood up, getting your attention, he placed his hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.
“Do you want anything?”
You smiled at him.
“White wine, please.”
At that, he left, and you watched as his long strides took him to the bar.
When you turned back, Yoongi looked at you with a sort of half smile that morphed into an open-mouthed smirk. He had that knowing look in his eye, a glint, I saw that. To which you responded with a glare, no you didn’t. His final gesture was a shrug, a shrug of someone unaffected or someone who had won in their mind.
-
Outside, the temperature had dropped. You and Yoongi slipped away since he was planning to take the last subway back to his place. You wanted to have a final catch up on things while Namjoon helped Jimin sort out Jungkook’s work. In front of you, people stumbled out, their laughter ringing against the walls.
“How’s Seoul?” You asked, remembering that he had moved here only months ago, flitting in between jobs but he had already secured an apartment.
“Big.”
You laughed at how brief he was.
“That’s it?” You asked, turning to him, noting how he kept his undercut and gained some silver earrings that shined as he moved his head.
“Better than what I left behind. I like the people I work with,” he said, which caused relief to descend upon you.
Yoongi had been working in that restaurant ever since you entered university, it was good to hear that he found somewhere that he was comfortable with and liked. You both watched as a couple kissed beneath an awning, their smiles erupting as they parted.
“How about that Namjoon guy?” He asked, instantly making you sigh. You elbowed him lightly.
“Don’t bring up anything, Yoongi,” you said.
“I haven’t said anything…and if I did say anything, I would say that that wasn’t a platonic hand on your shoulder, and I would also say that you’re falling and you don’t like it.”
All around you, people were enjoying their evening and not being talked at by Min Yoongi in his sage tone. You crossed your arms and looked away from him.
“I’m not falling,” you replied, rather stubbornly. You hear him sigh next to you, the kind of sigh that suggested that he was seeing right through you. An exasperated sigh, a sigh that asserted his opinion.
“I know you like him,” Yoongi said, prompting you to look at him, the emotions you were hiding slowly resurfacing.
“As a friend,” you said, not letting up. Yoongi gave you a stern expression.
“If that’s the case, then you should stop,” he said. Somehow that got to you, so you hung your head, leaning on the wall, feeling the hard ridges on your back.
“I know,” you said, defeated.
Then, the door to the pub swings open, Namjoon’s deep laugh echoed in the air as he said his goodbye to Jungkook, who waved at you before slipping back in, the purple stands of his hair mixing with the green neon of the sign above. Then, Namjoon walked towards you, his expression bright and his smile brought out his dimples. You could feel Yoongi’s stare on the side of your face.
“You ready?” He asked, you gave him a small smile. But the panic was rising within you, forcing words out that would put a plug in the situation.
“I’m feeling a bit sick, so I think I’m going to go back to mine,” you said. Namjoon’s features melted into concern.
“Oh. Do you need someone to walk you home?” He asked. You looked at Yoongi who licked his lips, curling them into his teeth, waiting as you were. You clenched your jaw.
“Yoongi can take me, right?” You said, signalling to him with your eyes.
“I could,” he mused. Namjoon nodded, but something replaced the concern in his eyes, the way they flitted between you and Yoongi, how you were closer to him now, your arms touching. After a few moments, Namjoon began to step back, his brows knitting. You hugged your arms around you, waiting for him to leave first.
“Okay, well. See you,” he said, turning away. Yoongi stayed where he was, watching it all unfold.
“See you.”
-
Distance was what you needed. That and putting your head down to focus on your work since the end of the year was rapidly approaching. But now that exams and deadlines were finished, results were now rolling out online.
“Is it out?” Namjoon asked.
There was still no new email regarding the results for the final semester despite the alert from yesterday. You were on the other side of the line, characteristically quiet as you constantly refreshed your inbox. You knew that he was frantically scrolling up and down is email inbox and it wouldn’t take much to persuade him to contact the office under the guise ‘technical difficulties’ to fast-track the release. Namjoon said your name and you made a sound, like a short hum to signal that you were still on the call. But it didn’t mean that you were present simply to cater for his needs, after all, you were also receiving your results.
“I keep refreshing and it’s not coming out,” he said. You could hear the repeated thump of his finger on the mousepad.
“Just wait,” you replied. Though you found yourself doing the same, leaning back from your laptop so the sound wouldn’t be so obvious.
“I know you’re refreshing it,” he said, and you rolled your eyes. Your inbox was refreshed once more but it remained barren.
To grant yourself a break before the inevitable, you looked out of your accommodation window. There were people sat outside on the grass, on picnic blankets surrounded by food and drinks, enjoying the late afternoon sun. The air pollution was at a low and it brought people out of their rooms. You could hear Namjoon’s small noises through the line and you set your phone down, putting him on speaker. He was humming something that was probably well-known, but he was butchering it expertly. When you hit the refresh button a new email came through, which coincided with Namjoon’s half-scream.
“Did you see yours?” He asked.
You didn’t reply and opened it instead, your stomach suddenly in knots. In your mind, you repeated the steady mantra of ‘You will be fine. These results don’t define you.’ In the lead up to today, you had spent countless hours researching the futility of grades, how such numbers, much like other numbers attributed to weight or rank, do not define you. Throughout your search, the same narrative permeated your screen: It doesn’t matter what you get. You should still be proud of yourself, regardless. But those people on the internet were abstract. They were faceless creatures, each with their own idiosyncrasies. Perhaps it was your pride talking: what doesn’t matter to them may matter to you. Then, there were subsequent articles that pointed to the fact that such numbers should not be tied to your worth.
At the end of it all, you ignored those bits of wisdom meant to placate an irrational reaction. So, in the same breath, you thought, ‘Of course they define me. At least for this stage of my life.’
Opening the message, you hovered the cursor over the various instructions and clicked on several links. The table of results stared at you, so simple, so rudimentary, that you thought that it cheapened all the hard work that went into those essays. The numbers didn’t lie, and you knew this because there as a disclaimer at the top, capitalised and in red:
PLEASE NOTE - THESE RESULTS AND FINAL AND CONFIRMED.
You gritted your teeth and read over the numbers. You passed but not in the manner that you expected. That was the thing about expectation, it was like a heavy boulder at the precipice of a cliff. Once it starts rolling, the gathered momentum increases the speed, blurring the surroundings, pursuing one goal: the end. In this scenario, the end for you was the expectation of higher numbers for a higher weighted average. All other factors fall away; whether you had a bad day or things slipped through the cracks. The boulder had no excuse for fallibility or human error.
On the other hand, the more docile sister of expectation is hopefulness. It tempered expectation. Hopefulness was like an inflatable beach ball, hurtling not in a singular path but could be influenced by other factors, including the wind, the surface of the ground and so forth. There was room for error, for understanding the notion that you could fail. Beach balls can deflate unlike boulders, which were a heavy mass of rock, worn smooth by rolling over a singular, hardened surface. Simply, when you're hopeful, you don't expect.
But you didn’t care for the beach ball. You were a boulder. Namjoon said your name and you looked at your phone beside your laptop. The results were still on the screen.
“Did you pass?” You asked.
“Yeah. But I’m not happy,” he replied.
There was some brief shuffling at the other end of the line, you closed the tab and leaned on your chair. There were more people on the grass, oblivious.
“Can I come over yours?” He asked, after a while. You inhaled sharply as the memories flooded back, the night at the pub outside, Yoongi’s observation. You let out a measured exhale.
“Yeah.”
-
Namjoon looked far too big for your single bed, his tall stature and width dwarfed the space easily. You were at your desk, all tension from exam results gone. He was reading the introduction of a book you took out that you never got to use while you sorted out papers to shred.
“Everyone has a different idea of love,” he said, placing the book on top of a towering pile. You made a noise that was to concede.
“I had this friend - well, one time acquaintance - she told me that she knew that her now boyfriend loves her because he didn’t cum in her mouth,” you said. You were friends for a while, up until you all separated for university. She was candid, which gave you some comfort.
“Oh.”
“Mhmm,” you hummed, stacking the printed drafts of your essays.
“Do you still want me to cum in your mouth?” He asked, prompting you to turn around.
He was talking about an earlier blowjob, the one that had him begging you to keep going because you were that good. Not a single drop wasted.
“What?” You asked, followed by a laugh. Namjoon tried to keep his face straight but eventually burst into laughter.
“I’m kidding,” he replied, sitting up on your bed, leaning his back against the wall to face you, the muscles of his thighs expanding due to being relaxed on the mattress.
You narrowed your eyes at him since he seemed to be doing that a lot nowadays., but he brushed you off by shrugging innocently. Turning back to your desk, you carry on sorting and organising, not stopping till you compartmentalised your entire academic year in designated corners and spaces in your room. Behind, you heard Namjoon shuffling some leaflets from the open day you volunteered for ages ago.
“What about fantasies?” He asked suddenly.
“What about them?” You asked, perching on your seat since you had nothing else to tidy. Namjoon’s pursed his lips, his dimples denting his skin.
“Do you have any?”
You grimaced, pulling all your faculties together for an answer. Fantasies weren’t something you got into voluntarily.
“I don’t have any,” you said after a few seconds.
“Nothing at all?” He pried, bringing one of his legs up so that he could wrap his arms around it. The muscles in his calf bulged as a result.
“Yeah. Fantasies are the root of all problems,” you said, sticking by your point. His eyebrows raised, silently asking for answer. You crossed your legs, sweeping your gaze along your room, your bare walls, the towers of things that were now organised at your disposal.
“If you didn’t have them then you’d take whatever is there. Which is better ‘cause there won’t be as many expectations and therefore, there won’t be as many disappointments,” you concluded, your eyes landing on Namjoon’s changing expressions. The one that greeted you now was incredulity. Both legs were now folded, his body contained in a smaller presentation, as if to vault.
“But wouldn’t it be fun to indulge, even just for yourself? How about dreams?” He pressed, his tone entering the realm of debate. You took a moment to gather your opinion.
“No… but I’m guessing you’re saying this because you’re a romantic,” you said, remembering how he was a glass half full kind of guy. He narrowed his eyes, almost to slits, accusatory and frankly, unprovoked.
“So are you, your stories suggest that,” he said, taking you aback. Had you shared any in the first place?
“You haven’t read any of them,” you said, recalling that the last story you wrote was months ago, in a dizzied spell, the words flying out of you in a frenzy.
“I’ve been around you enough to understand that you find some sort of refuge in writing. Like I do in music sometimes. Your plot lines can’t be that bad and your characters won’t seem like they suffer,” he reasoned, sounding irritatingly rational.
“But they do,” you replied, not knowing what else to say since he hasn’t read them to take full advantage of your defence.
“What’s wrong with fantasies?” He asked, reigning in the questions to its tight corner.
“Nothing! I think that fantasies make romance possible,” you said, seeking compromise. Namjoon’s brows constricted, his eyes blinking rapidly as if to register your words more than once.
“Explain,” he said, meeting you in the eye.
“I was,” you sighed.
“Okay.”
You adjusted yourself on your chair, slouching slightly.
"Romance is like finding your fantasy in people who don’t actually have it. You know that saying: Men love me for the woman I am not,” you said, rounding it up as succinctly as you could. Namjoon remained neutral, unfolding his legs, stretching them so that his feet brushed against yours.
“Read me something,” he said, leaning forward, holding your gaze.
The space between you seemed to crackle suggesting that what was happening between you was clearly toeing the line. It was unusual to find such intimacy in conversations, but it came naturally with him. The energy shifted; it was different. You hesitated to answer not because you don’t want to but because you had already chosen which story to read to him, should he ask once more.
You looked at his tan skin, his full lips, the inquisitive eyes that tapered sharply at the corners. Those brown pools that turned into honey in the light, the eyes that seemed to follow you, waiting. You see his short, cropped hair that was quickly growing, now easier to tug with your fingers. After a while, you knew he had absorbed your silence, so he drew back, tugging his lips upwards, congenial.
“I’m kidding.”
-
Several days after your results were released, Namjoon messaged you about meeting up. It was at the tail end of the morning and there was the usual buzz of lunch surrounding you, the chatter providing the familiar texture in the air, overlapping and sometimes intelligible. You were eating with Jimin at the library cafeteria when the text came through your notifications, stark and brief.
Namjoon [11:46AM]: Can we meet tomorrow and maybe hang out?
You thought nothing of it, replying instantly as Jimin passed you more of the dressing for your salad. You poured it while typing with one hand.
You [11:47AM]: Sure, meet by the fountain?
Namjoon [11:48AM]: Yeah ✌️
-
“Why did you ask to meet me today?”
In front of the fountain, Namjoon was wearing shorts and a massive hoodie, which matched with the warmer weather. His undercut was growing out, but it was still noticeable demarcation. He shrugged; the strings of his hoodie were asymmetrical. He smiled at you, sensing your apprehension.
“Why look at it like that? We’re friends, aren’t we?” He asked, moving forward, towards the direction of the main road. You matched his pace, though you know he slowed it down for you. When you reached the narrow path, he was on the outside so that the oncoming stream of people bumped against him instead of you.
“We usually just see into each other on the day, this kind of seemed a bit formal,” you said.
He glanced at you but he didn’t answer, instead he slung his arm over your shoulders, tucking you more into him, your steps matching immediately.
-
“I was thinking about the fact that we can’t chase or outrun clouds, especially when it’s raining,” Namjoon said.
You looked at him, just as you were guiding his cock in your pussy. Soon after you arrived in his place, you were somewhat relieved that the formal meeting you assumed ended up in a more gratifying outcome. Well, gratifying only moments ago, until Namjoon decided to start a conversation mid-fuck.
You had pushed him onto his back as his hands rested on your waist. You made somewhat of a coherent noise, “Mhm,” to acknowledge his statement. Your pussy sank over his cock, moaning at how he filled you and you clenched around him. You so wet that it was audible. As you raised yourself using the muscles of your thighs, you saw the same glassy look in his eye. Any other talk fell away, and you knew that you occupied his mind. It was hard to imagine that it could feel any better than this and you knew it, deep down. You ground your hips; his cock settled inside you that you never wanted to disconnect. To do so would be a crime. The feeling consumed your consciousness, it gave your words a mind of their own. You looked at Namjoon, at his blown-out pupils, his full lips parted, his skin tinged with a rose flush.
“I love fucking you - ”
It was spur of the moment, the words slipping through the cracks of your reserve without much thought. Instinct. As soon as you said that you knew you were in trouble. But that realisation was eclipsed soon after what he said.
“I fucking love you - ”
Pause.
“Wait, what?”
“Uh…” he said, his jaw opened, still panting.
“Joon! What the fuck, you’re literally inside me and you just dropped the L-bomb,” you huffed, letting his cock slip out of you as you tugged the condom down. The desire slips out of your grasp, and you were bewildered, in fact, aghast.
He moved to reflect the way his words tumbled out of his mouth: clumsily. After snapping off the condom and hastily throwing it in a nearby bin, he grabbed his shirt and wiped himself off. Then, he folded his legs. You waited from him to apologise but nothing of the sort came out, instead he looked at you, rather sheepishly, and stark naked on his own bed. You had tugged the blanket to cover yourself, sensing that for the first time ever, you were about to broach a topic where the lid should be firmly shut.
“Joon?” You asked, prompting him to take the words back. He brought his hand to the back of his head.
“What?” He asked.
You dropped the sheet and grabbed your clothes which were strewn in random places on the floor, getting dressed in a blink. Namjoon said your name in desperation, moving to get his clothes on himself.
“Wait, hold on - ah fuck,” he exclaimed, tripping over the tangled sheets, crashing rather unceremoniously on the floor.
That gave you enough time to gather yourself and run outside while he called your name in a plea. You slammed the door, running down the stairs your heart thundering for the wrong reasons as you joined the wave of crowds, blending in, calming yourself down as you drew away.
-
The first floor of the library was the busiest in the late afternoon, when most students have managed to free themselves from the grip of their beds to trudge away and finish their academic commitments. You knew that Namjoon would be tutoring some juniors who began later in the year, so you scanned the meeting rooms until you found him standing by a whiteboard, scrawling facts. He sees you as you waited on the other side of the glass wall. The door swings open, his students gaze flicked to you as you stood with your arms crossed, unable to conceal your frown. Namjoon looked at you, weary.
“We should talk,” you said.
“About what? Nothing happened,” he said, which had the effect of annoying you further. If he was going around in circles, then you were going to drive straight through.
“You said you loved me,” you hissed.
“So?”
You narrowed your eyes, unable to comprehend why someone so articulate couldn’t face a simple recounting.
“So? Joon, it wasn't followed by I love you-r body, or I Iove you-r tits, or I love you-r puss-”
The meltdown was warranted but he grasped your wrist, preventing you from completing your sentence and led you away from the curious gaze of the inhabitants of the first-floor. You walk until you reach the toilets, which were constantly under maintenance, so everyone avoided it. Namjoon leant against the wall, so you faced him, doing the same.
"I don't know how to do this,” you began, feeling overwhelmed. You didn’t do this; it never went beyond this. Namjoon was watching you, completely calm. Your words tangled, your mind rising to a quiet panic that got in the way of your concentration.
“I don’t do this,” you said, more hushed this time, aware that the walls echoed. Namjoon drew closer, so that his tone matched yours.
“What? I just said how I felt, look, okay I don’t love you, I like you,” he said, the words delivered in one breath.
You knew he was trying to reassure you, but it wasn’t working.
“Joon, we fuck. We're fuck buddies,” you said, spelling it out for him. This time, it was he who acted surprised, your words striking him. He springs up, tearing his gaze away from you and when it returned, it was with an anger that matched yours.
“Because of you.”
Bowled over, you straightened yourself from your position. But Namjoon was still speaking.
“What do you think about sex? What does in mean for you?” He asked.
Is he therapizing me?
“It’s fun. I like it,” you replied, bringing your defences up.
“Oh.”
“What?” You asked, watching as he went to your side so that you no longer faced each other.
“You think what we're doing meant nothing to me?” He asked and you understood.
“Joon, I know we never talked about this um… arrangement thing,” you said, calming yourself while feeling horribly inarticulate.
“I didn’t want you to get attached,” you said. The words seemed foreign and authoritarian out loud. He kept quiet next to you. The silence became unpleasant, like a sudden crack. Everything you shared disappeared like mist in one, fell swoop.
"What’s wrong with having sex without the everything else getting the way?” You asked, sounding more desperate than you planned. The conversation you were having made you aware that there was never that separation with Namjoon. He sighed, sounding as tired as you felt.
“It’s like - ”
“What?” You snapped, facing him this time.
“Are you afraid of me liking you?” He asked, his tone wavering.
When you tried to find the words you couldn’t answer, instead preferring to walk away. This time, Namjoon didn’t protest and when you turned back, he had entered the meeting room to resume his teaching, though more despondent than when you found him.
-
Namjoon surveyed the things he needed to do before the summer started. He looked at his room, the line of books, the small things that peppered its landscape. It had been some time since he saw you and he felt nothing but compulsion to see you again. At the end of it all, he wanted you back, he wanted things to smooth over, but most of all, all he wanted to do was talk.
He thought about the occasions when he saw you from afar, striding to and fro places around the campus, your gaze meeting for the briefest of seconds only to snap. He realised that you were always poised to take flight, that he should have heeded your hesitations and not treated your conversations as telling of something more. Though he was sure that there were moments you shared that was more than sex and he found those in the conversations you had, yours small expressions and habits that he took note of. The way you’d ask him for book recommendations but only short stories or the way you would entertain his musings with equal enthusiasm. There was a roadmap of you in his mind and he couldn’t get rid of it. He didn’t think he wanted to.
At the pub, while nursing his drink, Jimin came over, distracted by organising an event for his society. Namjoon made room and allowed his body to sag onto the seat, his drink barely touched. The activity around him, he used like white noise to temper his thoughts but the memory of you was always persistent. Everywhere he went, the cafeteria, the small gallery, even the foyers of your respective buildings, all reminded him of you. Yet he wasn’t sure where to place those feelings. He wasn’t writing either, too swamped in his own mind. The nights were long and with no lectures or extra-curricular activities, the silence took a different meaning. He missed your voice and presence more than he cared to admit.
Next to him, Jimin took note of his morose expression. He set down his phone despite the notifications blowing up constantly.
“What’s up?” He asked, sounding tentative. Namjoon took a gulp of his drink, cleaning his throat to stall.
“Nothing, I’m just waiting for summer to start so I can pack up my room,” he replied, skirting around it. Jimin furrowed his brow, then said your name in a quiet voice, asking where you were. Namjoon shrugged.
“I don’t know, we’re not really talking,” he said, watching as two people embraced each other by the entrance.
“I saw her the other day, she seemed okay,” Jimin said, not divulging anything more.
“She is? That’s good,” Namjoon said, unable to hide his relief. Jimin bumped his shoulder against his, a quiet acknowledgement.
“Yoongi-hyung told me that she sometimes comes by his place, she’s probably there now,” Jimin added.
At that, there was a compulsion that took over Namjoon, the kind that displaced his trepidation. He watched the two who embraced earlier, his envy slipping away just like that. Namjoon turned to Jimin, who resumed scrolling down his phone, but before he could ask, Jimin pushed it towards him. On the screen were directions and the numerous subway stations required. Namjoon gave him a smile.
“Thanks.”
-
The sound of the doorbell jolted you out of your thoughts, you closed the tab on the numerous takeaway adverts and hurried to the door. Yoongi had taken longer than you expected, preferring to pick up the takeaway since it was close by. Adjusting your shirt, made your way through the corridor and tugged the metal door open with your phone in your hand, preparing to grill him for missing out the coupons that he could have used.
“Hey, what took you so long? I was actually just about to call -”
You stopped talking immediately. Yoongi opened the door more by kicking the toe of his shoe so that it revealed the person standing behind him. Namjoon.
“Why is he -”
Yoongi rolled his eyes at you, exasperated.
“Can you guys talk this out? He and I spent - well - I spent the past two hours talking to him so that he could talk to you,” he said, or rather, complained. In his hand in a modest paper bag, was the said takeaway, likely tepid.
Namjoon was quiet behind him, still avoiding your eye. There was nothing said, much to Yoongi’s consternation. He walked into his apartment, past you, taking with him the food you were meant to share while watching another documentary, this time about conspiracy theories. Namjoon was looking at you now, appearing nervous. You waited.
“The rooftop is free and I ordered three portions. Come and eat once you guys are done,” Yoongi called out from the inside.
-
The summer heat cloaked you like a blanket; the air was warm and soothed. Namjoon had laid out his jacket for you to sit on given that you were wearing shorts and you felt the soft lining against the skin of your thighs. The platform you sat on wobbled slightly as both of you were bouncing your leg, waiting for words to form in the air. It helped that you had the view of the cityscape, the neon lights peppering the contours of the land, the bright sliver of the roads undulating unpredictably. You exhaled sharply.
“There are things about me you're gonna have to understand,” you began, rousing him immediately. You turned to each other simultaneously, which startled you both, so you directed your attention back to the city view.
“You know that passes, right?”
“What does?” You asked, glancing at him, he was already looking at you.
"The feeling of being isolated and alienated,” he replied, though his tone was light, so you scoffed.
“That really helps, thanks,” you replied. The silence carried on, the wind leaving you so that the only sound was of the wood creaking beneath your weight.
“Sorry. That came out wrong,” he said. You shook your head, feeling nothing. You realised that you say serious things without looking at each other in the eye. Though you can see him in your peripheries, you try not to look because it would be too much. Your hands gripped the sides of the platform, you feel the groves of the wood impress against your palm.
“I suck at saying what I mean,” you said.
"I know,” he replied, basking in the irony of the fact that you’re a writer.
“Don't put pressure on yourself. We can take it slow,” he said. You squinted so you could focus your gaze on the scenery ahead. After a while, you feel Namjoon draw closer, you feel his warmth.
"So… can I court you now?” He asked, making you erupt in a smile.
“If you say the word ‘court’ one more time,” you threatened, closing the distance, pressing yourself against him. He laughed, jabbing your sides. You missed that. He didn’t relent, his fingers poking you through your shirt so that you inched away from him, in peals of laughter. He carried on until you were on your back, pawing at his shirt, your breaths forming into squeals.
“Court…”
His hands slip up till they frame your face, settling your movements, those deep brown pools pulling you in.
“Court…”
He draws closer, his lips hovering above yours, full and soft, his smile impressing against yours. You kissed him, breathing him in, arms around his neck, the separation easing. At last, you hear that gleeful tone of his voice, the one that you missed, the very same that filled your mind with endless conversations, debates, jibes, and now, promises.
“Court!”
Just Friends | Still Friends (I)
masterlist.
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letthebodyfall · 3 years
Text
'Preparing one more bolt and hoping to whatever god out there that one of the heroes on shift would find his unconscious body sometime this day, and maybe drop him off at Aleksandra's or to the hospital.'
Masterlist
The married life wasn't the life that Maxwell expected, especially not with borderline supervillain Nightshade. But maybe they could make it work?
The wedding was a small event.
It was a simple courthouse signing with just the two of them in their civilian clothes: with his simple clean cut slacks and cardigan vest over a plain black long sleeve and with her rather flowy floral top and a similar straight cut slacks but in a deep purple rather than black.
There was no kiss, no ceremony; but there were a few of her extended family that whizzed past from who knows where while offering their congratulations.
They walked home with paper bags of takeout and drinks, apparently waiting for a quiet night ahead.
She'd given him his own room, which baffled him.
"I don't want to force you to touch me if you don't want to," he remembered her say, a smile on her face but something in her eyes tugged at his chest.
He let it go.
He was offered an office space but declined, saying he didn't need it. She just shrugged but kept the room vacant anyway.
Nothing really changed in his daily schedule. Fight gangsters in the morning, wannabees at noon, villains in the afternoon and then part time villains before evening, probably after their day jobs.
He'd come home battered and bruised but nothing ever serious.
But still he'd catch a flash in her eyes whenever parts of injured flesh gets exposed.
She never said anything about it except to offer to bandage them up, which he so obliged.
Her touch was tender yet firm, never actually hurting him but enough to keep him in place whenever he fidgeted too much.
"You're used to this?"
Her lips curved upward as she focused on the wrapping. "I have siblings with superpowers."
He flashed a grin before flexing his arm when she let him go. "Good as new."
"Please." He heard the intentional derision as she rolled her eyes. "It'd be less than a scratch tomorrow."
She leaned back, tucked her legs underneath her as she held the mug she's neglected.
He appreciated the quiet. It was different from the sort of quiet that he was used to.
He didn't know what to make of it.
---
It was weird.
Several weeks after his court wedding, some of his regular villains have been.. avoiding him? Whenever he's within thirty feet of them, they either visibly fluster and leave, make a shitty excuse about forgetting to walk the dog/cat/raccoon/fish, just straight up throw themselves down from the top of a building or moving vehicle, or god forbid all of the above.
It hurt his feelings, not gonna lie.
It didn't help that from the corners of his eyes he would see one of them.
Sometimes it was a glint from a loose object, soft tinkling of bells, the swishing of a sleek black cloth, or a flash of violent neon that gave him a short burst of a headache.
He's heard of crazy in-laws but god damn.
---
Voltage was surrounded yet again but a group of rather brave or stupid villains from the neighboring city.
"Been a while since I've beaten up a pretty hero." The man had the head shaped like an egg and a face so scarred it was difficult to discern if he had a face or had a print of a game of pick-up sticks plastered on as a mask.
The encounter took too long. Normally fights like this would be over in minutes but it's been nearly an hour and he's only managed to deal with four of them.
Persistent fuckers.
Eyes level at each one of them, the bloom of pain in his left arm was starting to fade and the tingling to start. He knew it was going to be useless in a couple of rounds.
"You're not my type, unfortunately." He hissed as his left arm cackled with a bright burst of lightning before fizzling out. Great.
Egghead snorted, eyes glinting as he and his similarly unpleasant companions moved a step, then another, hands tightly gripping makeshift weapons such as the revolutionary villain weapon: a mangled bat with rusty nails embedded on it.
Flexing his good arm, Volt knew he had one shot at this.
With a sudden burst of energy, he ducked, weaved, and flipped a goon with such agility that none of them anticipated the massive wave of electricity that surrounded the alley.
Heaving a breath, he felt the acid of his bile creeping up as he coughed, his energy quickly fading.
Voltage knew that if he wanted to keep his dignity as a hero, then he wouldn't allow himself to get killed by a fucking bat with nails on it.
He'd rather drink Savillon's coffee, goddammit.
"Fuck."
He turned, growling when he saw a one, and then three of them standing, their faces furious as they gauged the carnage between them.
"You're dead, Pretty Boy."
Gathering up the remains of the weapons and pieces of broken glass, Volt knew that if he didn't deal with this sooner, he's probably end up in medical leave again.
He didn't want that, obviously.
Preparing one more bolt and hoping to whatever god out there that one of the heroes on shift would find his unconscious body sometime this day, and maybe drop him off at Aleksandra's or to the hospital.
He could feel his hairs stand on end, the way they always do whenever he lashed out a particularly powerful blast, when WHAM-
Silver flashed in his eyes as two lightning-fast creatures tumbled and flipped over the brutes with such grace and finesse that no one had the time to react to the fact that in one fell swoop, they've managed to corral and incapacitate each and every one of the neighboring assholes before knocking them out with knockout gas.
Fists still up, Volt gaped like a fish as two adolescent figures laughed and congratulated themselves with a job well done.
"How-"
The taller of the two looked up, a boy with silvery waves of hair swishing as he regarded him before grinning, the bells attached to his hair and black-and-white jester-like clothing jingling with every slight movement.
"Hi!"
"Bye!" The girl, hair longer with similar bells attached grabbed the boy by the shoulders and disappearing.
Voltage sighed. He really shouldn't meet his in-laws like this.
---
I'm honestly having way too much fun with this lol
This Volt is way different from the Volt I had in my head when I first started thinking of this au for my ocs. It's different but I like it lol.
I'd love to get some suggestions for a series and hero/villain names or maybe some future plot points! Thanks so much for reading this! I appreciate everyone that takes time out of their day to read and comment. I write this for fun and it makes me so happy that it also brings people a little bit of joy <3
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
Masterlist
Part 5
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cupidsintern · 3 years
Text
the death of hyacinthus - pt. i
this is my old renaissance au with artist!billy and model!steve so enjoy lol
The light spills out onto the floor before the window, making the worn wood of the floor look bright again, like new. The light doesn't reach Steve though. Billy set up the scene like that on purpose, closer to the center of his studio. No direct light. He wants this to be lit like it's the beginning of twilight. In his head, Hyacinth dies at sunset.
The room is silent, has been for a while, other than birds outside the window, a breeze that made the window tap against itself lightly, and fabric shifting if Steve stirs from where he is at all, draped across this haphazard construction of pillows, blankets, and a bench.
That's the word Billy used; “drape”. When Steve got to the studio Billy was kicking pillows around on his little model platform, trying to get everything set up right, hardly even greeting Steve at all before launching into his explanation of how he wanted Steve to look.
“-and he’s dying, but he’s not dead yet,” Billy walked half a circle around the platform, hands out. “So Apollo would- damn-” A pillow fell over, he pushed it back up. “Would be here. So if you can just sort of drape yourself across right here-”
Steve was stripping off the last of his garments when Billy turned back around.
“Here?” Steve finished kicking his stockings off, crossed to step up onto the platform.
Billy swallowed, looking Steve in the eyes because at least it meant he wouldn't look down, slack jawed. “Yeah, that's- that’s perfect.” Steve was already settling in to sitting down, letting his head fall back against the seat of the bench, throat exposed.
The way he was sitting shifted his weight in his hips more; Billy tried to look critically. Not appreciatively. He shouldn’t be appreciating the son of the nobleman that had decided to be his patron. Not that Steve was even supposed to be modeling for him beyond the two portraits he’d already had done.
“Tip your knee down more,” Billy stepps back, takes in the composition.
Steve drops his knee.
“Turn your head towards me.”
Steve obliges. The line of his nose looks perfect at three quarters.
Billy stepps up to the platform again, pulls some of the fabric forward, lets it fall over Steve's legs more, over his groin- good. Less distracting. More poetic or something- and the line of his thighs beneath the fabric has just the heaviness Billy is looking for. He steps back again.
“What’s the myth again?” Steve’s jaw gains definition when he speaks with his head at this angle.
“The Death of Hyacinthus.”
“I know that part.” Steve rolls his hand a little. “The part before that. How does he die?”
“He- hang on.” Billy steps close again to push things around, make the lines right. “The wind- Zephyr- gets jealous of his beauty. Apollo throws a discus, and Zephyr pushes it off course, so it knocks Hyacinth in the head. Apollo holds him while he dies.” Billy says it all matter-of-factly. He's trying not to get distracted. He picks up Steve's arm to tilt back towards him a little. His skin is warm like the sunlight staining the floor.
“That's sad.” Steve says. His arm feels relaxed in Billy’s grip. “Weren't they close? Apollo and Hyacinth.”
Billy feels a familiar warmth at his neck of this topic. This thing that always comes up when he and Steve are alone. “They were lovers.”
Steve doesn't say anything back to that.
Billy gets the composition mostly how he wants it- and he’ll probably try Steve in a couple different poses, this is only for sketching. He takes ages deciding where to set up to actually draw it- Steve makes fun of him. Billy says he’s not the one naked on a pile of old curtains. That makes Steve laugh. His stomach flexes a little when he laughs.
Billy's glad Steve can be part of his process now.
He gets some general gestures down on paper. He really nails the angle of Steve’s throat- which he's proud of. He needs the arch of the thing to be perfect. And he gets the general idea of Steve's features down quick- he’s drawn Steve's face maybe a thousand times by now. The way his arm falls is tricky- he’ll come back to that in a bit.
“Billy.”
Billy looks up at Steve’s voice. He’s sat up a little, something short of coy in his eyes. “I’m cold.” “You’re cold.” Billy says back to him. Because he never does what Steve implies. Only what Steve says.
“Yeah, like you said- I’m bare ass naked on a pile of curtains.”
“Your calling.”
Steve laughs again. “Do you think we could close the door?”
“We?”
“You. Can you close the door.”
“Who’s the revered artist here?”
“Who’s the patron?”
Billy rolls his eyes, but he drops his chalk into the lip of his easel anyway, walks to pull the door to his studio shut, separating them from the rest of the house. Steve left it open in the first place.
“You’re not my patron.” Billy says when he gets back, picks up to start drawing again.
“I’m close.” Steve only sounds a little superior.
He’s right. He is close to being Billy's patron. He recommended Billy to his family, he talked up Billy’s version of the pieta, he introduced Billy to the Influentials of Florence, got him this nice new studio, set up in one of the family houses. He was only a little superior about it.
Mostly he was nice.
Nice to Billy. Excited about the things he drew, always asking him what he was working on.
Asked to sit for him once, twice, how many more times, he was part of the process now.
This might be what having a muse was, if Billy believed in things like having muses.
Steve scratches the back of his calf with a foot, then sets his legs back down.
“I’m surprised you don’t get bored doing this.” Billy cracks two of the knuckles on his drawing hand, shakes out his wrist. He’s only prying a little.
“I like watching you work,” comes Steve's easy reply.
“Still.” Billy smudges at a stray line with his thumb. “You’re always fidgety at dinners and shit. Not here.”
“Dinners are boring.” Steve sighs.
He had expressed that sentiment before. That he found Billy much more interesting than anything his family ever did. That he’d trade his infinite wealth for the virve Billy so possessed. Only he didn't say it like that. He said “I’d trade all of this shit for whatever makes your art so beautiful.”
And Billy said “You wouldn't want to. Trust me.”
Billy, having seared the image of Steve into his brain by now, was adding more definition in places, really letting his focus slide out of his head.
And it’s quiet for a bit. Billy doesn't notice when the silence breaks- the sound of shifting fabric, bare feet on wood floor-
“Shit, that’s really good.” Steve's voice startles Billy a little, but he doesn’t let it show. Just turns a little abruptly to find Steve leaning over his shoulder.
“Looks just like me.” Steve continued, hovering his fingertips over Billy's rendition of his nose.
“You don’t have to sound so impressed every time.” Billy rolled his eyes, pushing Steve’s hand away.
“Oh, excuse me for showing some enthusiasm.” Steve hummed another laugh, still looking at the paper. He traced a finger absentmindedly down his own flesh-and-blood nose, marveling at the likeness.
Billy couldn't focus enough to continue with Steve so close. Not like he’d never seen Steve in next to nothing before. But this was really and truly nothing. And even naked as the day he was born Steve exuded wealth in just the way he stood. Like clothes were nothing but decoration on something already… beautiful.
“Can you go back to your spot, please?” Billy got out, looking away like he was annoyed.
Steve just smiled at him before padding back to his platform, throwing the fabric back over his legs.
But now the composition was wrong-
“So,” Steve’s voice carried across the sun-soaked chambers. “Why Hyacinth?”
“What do you mean.” Billy was trying desperately to collect his thoughts.
“I mean, he’s dating a god, right? Why him? What's so special about him.”
“He’s beautiful.”
“And?”
“Well, I mean, he’s a Spartan prince, he’s legendary. Apollo doesn't even really pick him. Hyacinth has, like, a bunch of people to choose from. He picks Apollo.”
Billy can’t draw like this, especially since Steve fucked up the composition- probably on purpose.
Billy gets up with an unintentional little huff and gets close to Steve again, has to adjust his legs again, avoid staring at the pinks that dust Steve’s everywhere-
“You draw me a lot.” Steve interrupts Billy’s train of thought.
Billy looks up, holding Steve’s wrist like it was his own. “You sit for me a lot-”
“What's your favorite part to draw?”
Billy’s breathing feels thicker, like his throat is coated in honey, sweet but hard to breathe. “Of you?” “Yeah.”
“Your nose.” Billy says easily, because it's safe to say.
Steve smiles. “You've said that before.”
“It's true.” Billy prepares to turn away again, to tell Steve they should get more done while there's still daylight.
Steve’s fingers hook against the palm of Billy's hand. This is playing with fire.
Steve lifts Billy's hand up, touches it to the bridge of his nose.
He can feel the sharp bone under his forefinger.
“Where else?”
Billy inhales. It's a feat. “Your jaw.”
Steve pulls Billy's hand down his cheek to touch his jawline. They’ve been avoiding this forever,
“And?” Cliche game of cat and mouse. Right now, Billy’s the mouse.
“Your shoulders.” Billy watches Steve drag his hand down his perfect neck to the slope of his perfect shoulders. “Steve.”
“Billy.” Steve mocks Billy’s warning tone just a little. “Come on, what else?”
Billy swallows again. He doesn't respond he just lets his hand wander lower, lower, down his chest, to his stomach-
Billy stops his hand, pushes back against Steve’s. “I’ve never drawn you nude, if that's what you’re implying.”
“Maybe you should.” Steve’s finger’s slide up Billy's forearm to hook under the edge of his rolled up sleeve.
“I’d need a couple different references...” Billy trails off. He knows Steve is about to kiss him.
It’s still delicious when he does. No number of days, weeks, waiting for one of them to make a move, of thinking what that move would be, what it would feel like, would have prepared Billy for the spit-sweet taste of a first kiss in the late afternoon.
-
i might do a part ii or just leave it like this lol
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hoshiwhxre · 3 years
Note
Omg manifesting Jihoon smut, IN THE PRACTICE ROOM omg mirror kink- 😳 a yg trainee, dancing with Jihoon and then they hit it off from there 😏 you can even include the songs they were dancing to if you want.
Jihoon ; Mirror Sex
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typ : smut / requested
pairing : jihoon x fem!reader
rated : NSFW
warnings : light chok!ng , cum!shot , edg!ng / orgasm!control , just smut lol
{ Mirror kinks uGH with his abs and arms flexing🥵🥵🥵🥵 }
This is the song playing ! Please, it's so good and so s e x c
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"You're not listening to me."
Your body came to a startled halt, meeting his sharp gaze through the practice room mirror. Swallowing, your head bowed, fingers anxiously folding beneath your sleeves.
"I'm sorry," you spoke quietly, "I'm tired, I can't concentrate-"
"You're tired?" Jihoon scoffed, "you want to be an idol, but you're complaining about practicing when you're tired? Do it again."
For the 32nd time that night, music flooded the room, encouraging your body to react with every beat. His disrespect had urked you, drawing much more aggressive movements from your aching limbs. An impatient sigh sounded through the room, as the music cut out almost as soon as it began.
"No, no," Jihoon strode forward, "look, do what I do."
Postioning himself beside you, he tapped his thighs to signal where he was about to shift them, slowly going through the motions while keeping a steady eye on you through the mirror.
"Your direction is wrong when you do this," Jihoon swayed his body to the side, "you're energy is completely off, and you're lacking so much sharpness when you do it. Come here, let me just..."
Your body clammed up, as he slipped behind you, tracing his palms slowly down your arms that were now erupting in unavoidable goosebumps. He tilted his hips against you, chest tight against your back as he pushed your feet with his.
"Follow my body."
You obliged reluctantly, becoming clay for him to mould and position. You could feel how good of a dancer he was, your gaze fixed on his reflection, it sent shivers of awe through your warm spine.
"Let's do the routine properly, with both of us," his deep voice splintered your thoughts, forcing you to twist from his grip.
"If you want," you said quietly.
One eyebrow cocking, Jihoon chose to ignore your seemingly complete uninterest, and turned to once more send music bouncing off the walls. You'd spent days agonising over this, frustrated that you couldn't get the stupid choreography right. It wasn't the song - no, the song was one that could so easily make your body sing to it's rhythm. And it wasn't your partner - you had to admit that you'd lucked out with Jihoon; he was talented and he worked hard. But in all honesty, when you were alone you almost had it perfect; it was as soon as he stepped into the room that you were for some reason rendered completely useless. You wanted to prove to him that you were good, that you deserved to be here, you knew he didn't believe either.
"Ready?" Jihoon murmured, eyes misty with concentration.
With a steadying breath you nodded, preparing yourself before both of you begun the intimate dance. His palms were soon gliding expertly over your skin, a tight grip tilting your hips back, a dark gaze boring seductively into your own. It wasn't the slow paced choreography that was leaving you breathless, and with every tight heart beat your attraction for Jihoon only multiplied. You could curse yourself for how unprofessional this is, your lips suppressing soft moans every time his touch hovered over increasingly sensitive areas. As your eyes caught his through the mirror, you watched his mouth curl into a smirk, and suddenly your feet were crashing into his, stumbling clumsily to the wooden floor. Wincing in pain, your inwardly cursed yourself.
"I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened-"
A large hand hovered beside your head, and, although embarrassed, you forced yourself to accept his offer, allowing Jihoon to tug you up and close against his hardened, muscular chest.
"I know what happened," he purred, his ridiculously teasing eyes dropping to your lips, "you like me."
"J-Jihoon, I don't know what-" your cheeks were branded red.
"Oh? So you don't like it when I do this?" his fingers grazed your waist, sending a kaleidoscope of excited butterflies rushing through your chest. Your throat tightened, replying with a soft wheeze of agreement. Jihoon continued with a light chuckle, "or how about this?"
His warm palm slipped beneath your t-shirt, his touch dancing over your lower stomach, bringing a tense flutter to your heated core. You swallowed, feeling his lips tilt towards yours, their sweet pink hue begging for your kiss. Jihoon's voice suddenly deepened.
"And what if I do this?" his strong arms spun you easily around, forcing your body up against the cool glass, his figure pinning yours easily between his toned muscles. You gasped, breath catching, as his hips rubbed against you, slowly guiding your hands to press them tight to the mirror.
"How long have you known?" you managed a choked whisper, as he began brushing his touch steadily up your forearms, following the curves of your body down to your hips.
"A week or so," Jihoon tilted his head, watching your lids flutter shut in response to his fingers curling over the band of your shorts, "you're not so subtle with it."
"Would you want me to be?" a moan escaped your lips, his hips beginning to grind against you, tearing you with the hard bump pushing through his joggers.
"It doesn't matter to me," Jihoon leant forward, planting gentle, open mouthed kisses down your shoulder, "I'd have fucked you either way."
The slick spreading between your legs was uncontrollable, his words bringing shivers to your spine, his touch wettening your core with every milisecond that went by.
"So do it," your nails marked the glass, "fuck me."
Your green light words were all he needed to rip down your shirts, a free hands roughly snatching your hair into a tight grip. Jihoon yanked your head back with a grunt, your shorts and panties now kicked across the room, while he reached between your thighs to trail a finger between your dripping folds.
"Mhm, so wet already," Jihoon drawled, "I really turn you on, don't I?"
His cockiness only deepened the slick that was now wrapping two digits, triggering a desperate moan from your yearning slips. Fingers prompted a sweet moment of release, applying pressure to your fastly throbbing clit. You whimpered as he rubbed the sensitive nub, his shadowed eyes watching your features weaken with the easy touch.
"Awh, pretty little princess likes that," he murmured, "don't you?"
Your nod of approval brought his hand from between your legs, forcing an empty disappointment to drown your desperate core. You whined, and he immediately tugged hard on your hair, sneering a demand to "be quiet or daddy won't let angel cum". Your teeth immediately sank into your lip, forcing silence, just as Jihoon slipped his hard cock from beneath his joggers. He grazed the tip slowly between the folds of your pussy, allowing your slick to act as lubricant, before lining himself up to your begging entrance. Lips twitching, he glanced up at your reflection.
"Look at me."
Lids snapping open, your low orbs obediently met his, just as he prised a few thick inches inside of you. Your lips fell open in dizzy shock, the pain stretching you out as he pushed a few more inches a little deeper. You began to croak a moan, before your voice hitched with a loud cry for God, as his hips drove the last few inches hard inside of you. Your guts wrapped around his cock, tightening as though it were lock and key. His satisfied groan filled your ears, a sense of pleasure hitting your heart - one that was heightened with the deep, slow strokes that Jihoon's hips were driving hard into your pussy. His grip released you for a moment, and you watched through drooping lids as he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing buldging muscles stretching golden skin. The sight made you whine desperately, your core tightening with a few fiery knots.
"You like that, doll?" Jihoon grunted, as his palms planted firmly against your hips, the sight of his arms flexing filling your view, "gosh, look at you, all pretty and obedient for me..."
His words were followed by an abrupt change of pace, his cock suddenly pounding faster and rougher into your reddening pussy. One hand snatched up to curl around your throat, while the other landed a few sharp, painful slaps against your ass. You whimpered with a nod, weak eyes watering as he drove your body into the mirror, heavy breaths steaming up the view. You were fast coming undone, your walls clenching around his cock, sending cocky pride through his veins as he greedily studied your weakening, messy expression.
"Are you going go cum, princess?" Jihoon gritted his teeth, just as your core pulsated with the onset of orgasm, your muscles readying to contract fast and heavy, "oh no, not yet, hold on for me, beautiful, I'm not ready to let you cum just yet."
You whined in weak frustration, turning your hazy concentration on preventing your core from releasing what felt like the best orgasm of your entire life. Jihoon's hips timed an unforgivable rhythm with your body, pounding into you brutally. Moans of yes, don't stop, and begs for him to let you cum were causing Jihoon's rhythm to fracture, as his chest expanded with an incoming of buldging nots. His stomach twisted with orgasm, his cock twitching and pulsating between your spasming walls.
"You want to cum? Do you baby?" he cooed.
"P-Please..."
"Okay then, be a good girl and cum for daddy," Jihoon's eyes sparkled, as your sweaty palms dirtied the mirror, your limbs twitching to orgasm. Your body reacted abruptly to his permission, your core pulsating, the knots expanding getting ready to burst, and suddenly your cries were moulding into loud, screaming moans, as Jihoon's hips grew erratic, his breath heavy. Your walls clenched tight around his cock, an unbelievable euphoria crashing through your veins as your muscles contracted and released at a supersonic rate. His pounds slowed, riding out your high as you collapsed breathless against the mirror, before his cock pulled out, allowing his warm cum to unload against your lower back. Chest heaving, he leant down, muffling his deep sounds with soft kisses up your neck.
"Let's clean you up before someone catches us," he mumbled, brushing your hair from your hot, sweaty cheeks, "we don't want them seeing you all prettily fucked out for me, would we?"
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misc-headcanons · 3 years
Note
Sfw and NSFW Headcanons of Maki (fore force) with a boyfriend who absolutely loves her, even loves to kiss and worship her muscles at times. He can be a low-key sub in bed lol
SFW Headcanons
She'd be sooo flustered by how her boyfriend compliments and worships her muscles. It's no secret she feels a little insecure about her appearance (constantly assuming people think she's a "gorilla cyclops"), and I think she feels like nobody can see her feminine side because of that sometimes. So her boyfriend praising her body and calling her things like pretty or beautiful makes her heart soar.
She is always happy to show off her strength by carrying her Darling around with ease. She's so strong that it really doesn't matter what his weight is, she can carry him and is more than happy to do so.
Always blushes like crazy whenever he worships her physique around other people, especially if he kisses her muscles. She'd stammer about how her coworkers are watching, and she doesn't want to be written up for any inappropriate PDA by Hinawa...but she can't keep the smile off her face when she says it, so you know she isn't that seriously upset by it.
She gets a boost of confidence whenever her boyfriend is there to cheer her on while she trains and works out. She feels like she can lift a whole building when she hears his voice encouraging her.
If he ever got her any tank tops or shirts with sayings like "Sun's out, guns out" or "I flexed and the sleeves fell off", she would want to wear them ALL the time--even under her Fire Force uniform! Her boyfriend's love makes her more confident and she wants to show off her muscles with clothing instead of wanting to hide them.
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NS.FW Headcanons
Her skin is quite sensitive to kisses and caresses, so any time ____ worships her muscles in bed she'll shiver a little and moan from how nice it feels.
If he's eating her out and wants her to squeeze her thighs around his head, she's always a little nervous. She can crush a watermelon with ease, and while that's REALLY hot in her boyfriend's mind, she doesn't want to...you know, kill him.
Always leans into him and curls up like a cat whenever he gives her some post-coital cuddling and body worship. His hands just feel so good~
I think she's a bit of a switch, but she loves being a gentle dom with her boyfriend. Riding him while leaning down to kiss him and caress his chest/arms (maybe even pinning them down when she's wanting to be extra dominant and spicy), holding him up in a sort of reverse kabedon scenario while gripping his hips to set the pace of his thrusts, riding his face while cooing/moaning about how good he's making her feel...sex with her has a bit of variety, but it's always loving and passionate.
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Text
Hold My Phone
By: SassyShoulderAngel319
Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand
Rating: PG-11/T- (v seductive flirting)
Original Idea: Modern!AU (kinda sorta not really)
Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This one is so ridiculous. It’s basically a “Everything is Pretty Much the Same but They Have Phones” AU, not really a modern AU because I figured this would be how Rhys would handle having a phone with the High Lord act, lol
^^^^^
My phone buzzed in my pocket. In a meeting with some Autumn Court emissaries. I’m bored. Entertain me? Rhys’ text said.
Why are you texting me? Just use the mating bond, I texted back.
Yeah but I want these idiots to *know* that I’m bored of them and can’t be bothered to give them my attention.
Playing games with them?
Always.
Exactly how do you propose I entertain you?
It took his answer a few minutes to arrive. I wondered if it was because he was thinking about the wickedest, most flirtatious thing to say or something came up in the meeting that he did actually have to give his attention to.
What are you wearing right now? I shouldn’t have been surprised that was his reply.
My purple outfit. The dark purple one with the stars embroidered into it.
I’m debating asking you to send me a picture of you in it or asking you to take it off and send me a picture of *that*
I am not sending you any pictures while you’re in a meeting. I hadn’t replied to a text that quickly in a while.
His reply came quickly too, Send it down the mating bond then. No records ;)
I rolled my eyes and got to my feet. Up in our room, I stood in front of the full-length mirror, stared at myself while lowering my mental shield, shot the image I was looking at—fully clothed—down the bond, and then slammed my shields back into place.
It took seconds for an answering image of Rhys licking his lips with a feral gleam in his eyes to bump into my shield. I rolled my eyes. My phone buzzed. Delicious. As always, darling.
Happy?
Deliriously.
Go back to your meeting, you flirt. I’ll see you later.
But I’m still bored.
Don’t be a baby. I have a meeting in 30 minutes I have to get ready for with the governor of the Palace of Threads and Jewels.
What are you meeting with the governor for?
I don’t think it’s any big deal. Probably just going over some requests from patrons who have gathered together a bunch of things rather than hauling themselves up 10,000 stairs to the House.
Good luck.
You too. I set my phone down on my vanity. I hated getting rid of the loose pants and sleeves but I knew for a meeting like this that I’d need a gown.
I sent Rhys mental images of every gown I tried on before selecting one, and every hairstyle I thought of doing, asking his opinion and ultimately ignoring it when he seductively told me he liked the most revealing dress with my hair unbound. I definitely called him a name I had no plans on apologizing for before replacing my shields.
I ended up going with a modest midnight blue gown glittering with silver threads that would be appropriately formal, but not so formal it felt like an occasion. Instead of a tiara or crown or diadem I kept my hair out of my face with a comb that was made of black metal and studded with diamond dust to look like the night sky. Crescent moon-shaped sapphire taking up most of the space in the middle.
Nuala and Cerridwen approved of my choices and I shooed myself out to go see the governor.
I collapsed on the bed after leaving my dress abandoned on the floor. The meeting was exactly what I thought it would be and after all the requests I was tired. I genuinely cared about my people but putting forth the mental strain of trying to figure out how to fix so many problems at once I started having to pretend to be chipper.
I hadn’t realized I dozed off until a weight falling onto the bed beside me woke me up.
Rhys fell in such a way that he could sprawl his wings above me, taking up a good portion of the bed. He was in casual clothing—silver-buttoned black shirt with the top button undone to let his tattoos peek out, black pants, low black boots—but I knew him better than to think he’d gone to the meeting in them. As he fell, he sighed. “That was tedious,” he remarked, setting a hand on the top of my head and scratching my hair. His fingers brushed my comb and he stopped.
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled.
He sat up to lean over me. He gave me a long, slow kiss as he removed the comb from my hair. “You didn’t wear the dress I chose,” he teased.
“I asked your opinion, not to choose for me,” I countered. “Besides, I doubt you’d even want another male to look at me in a dress like that.”
“Fair enough,” he conceded playfully. He kissed the hollow behind my ear. “You can model it for me later.”
“Flirt,” I accused.
“Spoilsport,” he retorted.
His phone started ringing in his pocket. I recognized the personalized tone. He only personalized a few. Azriel’s, Cassian’s, Mor’s, Amren’s, and mine.
Heaving another sigh, he extracted the phone from his pocket. “What do you want, Cassian?” There was no bite at all to the words, just resigned fatigue. He listened to words I couldn’t quite make out as he fidgeted with my comb in his other hand. He rolled his eyes. “That can wait. I’ll squeeze it in tomorrow, okay?”
More babbling from Cassian’s end of the call. I thought I caught snatches of Azriel’s voice too.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Bye.” He hung up, but I could still hear them talking as he ended the call. “Can never get one hour of peace with those two,” he muttered, silencing his phone.
He tossed it somewhere behind him and I heard it thunk on the rug.
“For tonight, darling, I have some much more entertaining events scheduled.” He bent over me and pressed another kiss to my lips. I kissed him back enthusiastically, reaching up to brush my fingers into his hair. He relaxed slightly, the weight of his head growing against mine as his neck tension softened.
“Let me silence my phone,” I said.
He waved a hand vaguely over his shoulder. “Done,” he said.
I smiled. “Bath before or after?”
“Hmm… after.”
“Fine with me.”
Both of our phones vibrating wildly on the end tables of our bed woke us the next morning. I jolted so hard I bonked my head on Rhys’ wing bone where he’d draped it over me as we slept, as he often did.
I reached out for my phone. There was no caller ID and the combination wasn’t one I recognized. That happened all the time. I answered anyway, assuming it was a matter of state, as usual. “Hello?”
“High Lady?” The voice was small and trembling. Not young, but frightened.
“Yes?”
“There’s something in the harbor.”
Before I could ask for more details, the caller hung up.
Rhys answered his phone much more lazily than I had. “This is Rhys,” he said. He never used his full given name to answer the phone. High Lord Tamlin, his enemy, could be calling and he’d still use Rhys.
He bolted up in bed so abruptly, his wing bone hit me in the back of the head. Thankfully the talon missed me. We both winced at the pain as he mouthed, Sorry, and leapt out of bed to get dressed. I figured I’d probably need to go investigate the harbor so I got up too and found a pair of pants, shirt, and overcoat. Socks and boots followed before I wound my hair into a bun so I wouldn’t have to braid it yet.
Rhys hung up. “Was your call about the harbor too?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Though, whoever it was didn’t say much.”
“Same here. Ready?”
I put the same comb I’d been wearing the day before into the top of my bun so I had some sort of ornamentation on. “Ready.”
He grabbed me around the shoulders and winnowed us out of the house.
We reappeared on the docks.
A dark shape was moving around under the surface of the water. I grabbed the railing and peered over it. “Too fluid to be a whale,” I said, noticing a small gathered crowd taking pictures on their phones, some recording videos.
Rhys’ hand settled on top of mine. It’s moving like a serpent, he said down our bond.
My grip on the railing halted. A serpent? Now? Like—like a sea serpent?
He didn’t reply. His dark eyes following where the head’s shape appeared to be.
“Hold onto this for me,” he said, pulling out his phone and holding it out. I took it out of habit, barely noticing his wings extending.
“Wait—Rhys—don’t—!” Too late. He used a powerful launch from his wings to get him over the railing before plunging into the water. As he dropped, I saw his clothes change from the casual dark shirt and pants to his fighting leathers. I wasn’t even sure any of the faeries around us noticed the change. A few of them yelped as his splash sprayed into the air.
I clung to the railing, staring into the depths.
“Rhysand…” I complained. “Stop being so reckless.”
I heard that, he teased.
I meant for you to, I retorted.
Wanna see?
I’m holding your phone. I’m not getting in that water.
You know that’s not what I meant.
I sent the sound of my sigh down the bond and felt his chuckle in return. Fine.
A crack opened in his mental shield. I slid into it, keeping a tether to get me out whenever I wanted if I got freaked out. My eyes glazed over as I started looking through his.
The harbor water was relatively clear, but a bit blurry. I—no, Rhys—flexed his magic to clear up his vision. My—his—hair drifted in front of his eyes a bit.
A large, deep red sea serpent twined around ahead, barely visible through the murk. Large fins were tucked against its sides.
Wings? I asked Rhys.
Yes. For jumping out of the water and snatching sailors from their ships. Among other things, he replied. They usually dwell in the depths. Wonder what it’s doing here.
I didn’t reply as he swam closer. Inside his mind, I could feel him dismiss his wings to reduce drag. Feel the strength in his shoulders as he stroked forward. In his mind, I had no private thoughts, so I knew he felt my anxiety. My fear for his safety. I felt him send a wave of calm through himself. He wasn’t nervous at all—for whatever reason.
The serpent caught sight of him. My breath hitched, but Rhys didn’t even flinch. Gold eyes bored into him, fangs revealed in something of a snarl.
Sorry, love, Rhys thought, I need to speak to it mind to mind, and don’t want you here for it. Too hard to concentrate on two minds at once.
Fine with me, I replied.
He shoved me out of his mind.
I shook my head, blinking, as my consciousness returned to my own body. My hands were so tight on the railing that my knuckles were white.
Something tugged on my tunic. I turned.
A small faerie child with violet skin and long silver hair was standing beside me, looking up at me. “Are you alright, High Lady?” Innocence and genuine concern were in its voice. I knelt to be on the same eye level as the child, my hands resting on the phone in either of my pants pockets.
“Yes. Yes, I’m alright. Just concerned for Rhys.”
The child looked into the harbor. “Mama says the High Lord is very powerful. He’ll be okay.”
I smiled at the child. “Yes. Yes he will.” I reached into the pocket of my tunic, pulling out one of the small candies I kept in there for when children stopped to talk to me—and Rhys usually. I offered it to the child. Everyone in Velaris knew their High Lord and Lady kept candy for children on them, so the child accepted without hesitation. They took off the wax paper wrapper and stuck the candy in their mouth before running back to their parents.
Rhys appeared on the dock behind me, dripping wet. “What’d I miss?” he asked.
I jumped to my feet and whirled around. “You okay?”
“Fine. I convinced it to leave.” He nodded toward the dark shape slithering out of the harbor now. “It was actually lost, I think. I managed to give it directions.”
I chuckled. “Never a boring day in Velaris.”
He joined my chuckle. “Not at all. Cassian’s gonna get a kick—” He swore. “I forgot. Cassian needed my help. You still have my phone?”
As I pulled it out of my pocket, he waved a hand to dry off.
He plunked in Cassian’s combination. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way.” He reached out a hand for me. I took it. Dark wind whipped around us as we winnowed away.
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melismaticmadness · 3 years
Text
INTERVIEW
Request: “Something in the lines of reader playing reggies gf on the shows s2 and she becomes bffs with charlie but people keep shipping them. Something in like interview style or so....”
Description: FLUFF
1811 Words
Warnings: one curse word!
Charlie x Reader, Featuring Jeremy
Hope you like it!!
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Press was always an exciting time as an actor, but even more so with this cast because of what happened before press events for season one. Their virtual press was great, but you can tell how excited they all were to experience it together this time around. Julie and the Phantoms was the best job I had gotten since moving out to LA. Honestly, it could be my big break. I was playing opposite Jeremy as his love interest, but our off-screen relationship was strictly platonic. Obviously, he and Carolynn are married and she is the sweetest. Jeremy is more of a mentor to me.
I sat in between Charlie and Jeremy for our first interview of the day when a production assistant came in and prepped us for the topics for this interview. Each interview has a slightly different focus, so it’s helpful that we know before we get started. The soft-spoken man raddled off some talking points: Charlie’s sleeves, Jeremy’s new character arc, my relationships/experience joining the cast, and then all of us would have time to add in stories of our choice if there was time. Easy. This cast makes it really easy to connect and bond. They are a family and I am so lucky to be a member of it now.
What I didn’t expect was to get so close to Charlie during rehearsals and filming in Vancouver. The two of us were instantly inseparable. He came to watch my film on set, I came to watch him. We rehearsed our lines together almost every night after long days, and Owen even considered me his other roommate because of all the nights I was asleep on their couch. Hanging out with Charlie felt like we had known each other our entire lives, but it had only been about a year.
Interviewer: “So, y/n, you seem really well connected to this cast, even though you’re sort of the new kid in the group. Would you mind telling me how you felt about joining this project?”
Y/N: “Oh I definitely felt welcomed right into the group. I remember my first night in Vancouver, Charlie came to check out my apartment, Owen came too, and I remember Charlie and I trying to prank Owen when he fell asleep on the couch but it was an epic fail. We had water and shaving cream all over the floor and ourselves, oh my god it was a mess, but that’s kinda the proof of how fast I became part of the group. Night one and they were already including me in their fun. The same goes with the girls, Jadah, Madi, Sav, Tori- we immediately were meeting for breakfast before filming together and having movie nights. It was the best welcome I could have imagined, knowing how close they all were from last season.”
Interviewer: “Jeremy, what was it like having this new energy come in, especially to shake things up for your character Reggie, who really was much of the comedic relief last season, but now has this mutually flirty relationship with y/n’s character?”
Jeremy: “Well, it was great having y/n come in and it allowed us all to explore Reggie outside of his quirky one-liners. It’s not that hard acting opposite, y/n, the talent they bring in was insane and we got along really well so it made it a lot of fun exploring Reggie as somewhat of a ‘ladies man’.”
Interviewer: “Yes it was fun getting to see more of who Reggie is, or was? Spoiler alert if you haven’t seen season one, Reggie is dead. All the boys are dead. Anyway, speaking of seeing more of something- Charlie, I noticed the sleeves on all your shirts this season were barely there. Is this a Charlie characteristic that just carried over to show off or was this specifically written for Luke?”
Charlie: “Oh gosh, haha. I think it’s a little bit of both. I definitely bring a lot of myself to Luke, but even in season one, Soyon, our amazing costume and wardrobe supervisor, was cutting the sleeves off Luke’s shirts. I think it played into his 1995 bad boy persona, and now it’s just him.”
Y/N: “and you just like showing off...hahaha!”
Charlie: “If you got it, flaunt it!” With that, all three of us and the interviewer were cracking up laughing and Charlie was flexing which kept us going a minute longer.
Interviewer: “AH,” they sighed, “Y/N, the internet is freaking out about you, truly, because of some photos of you with Mr. Gillespie over here. Let me read some things for you - ‘my heart is broken because I can’t have Charlie, but at least y/n can. I ship it,’ under an Instagram photo of you two the caption reads ‘ship it so hard it’s like the Titanic,’ which is my favorite. It’s too funny. So my question is, what is going on here? Is there a secret showmance that you’re hiding behind Reggie?”
Charlie and I are now laughing hysterically again. I don’t think the interviewer realizes how nervous our laughing sounds compared to before, but hopefully, it’s not noticeable to fans or the rest of the cast. I wasn’t expecting to get questions about Charlie and my relationship when I was supposed to be talking about my character, the whole experience, and all my scenes with Jeremy.
Y/N: “Oh no, no, no. We are friends! Nothing is going on,” I looked over at Charlie who had his eyes locked on me most admiringly. He was going to let me handle this however I wanted. “Charlie and I just happened to click right away during rehearsals and now I feel like he’s the older brother I never had!”
Charlie looked a little hurt at that ‘brother’ comment, but he jumped in to echo what I had said.
Charlie: “Ya know, the fans are so great. They love to keep up with our lives and find little hidden clues in the show about the backstory, and I think that’s just what happened with our friendship. We’re best friends, we have so many inside jokes, we hang out a LOT. But, Nah, nothing is going on here. It’s cute though that they ship us! Look out, Jere! I’m stealing your girl!.”
Interviewer: “You heard it here first everyone, Mr. Gillespie isn’t off the market! Thank you all for your time today. Everyone make sure to check out season two of Julie and the Phantoms, now on Netflix!”
*****************************
After a long first day of press, I was finally walking back into my hotel room in New York when my phone went off.
I tossed my stuff on the couch and plopped down to see what I had missed all day. Charlie had just texted me asking to meet him on the roof.
“The roof?!” I grunted, “How did he even get on the roof?” Back out the door, I followed signs to the roof. Swinging the door open once I got up there, my breath was taken away. New York City right at dusk, with the cool breeze hitting me, was so beautiful.
“Gillespie, are we allowed to be up here?”
“Kenny said we’re less likely to be followed or have our picture taken together if we were up here and came up separately. So, if we get in trouble, it’s on Kenny...”
“The view is amazing. Not surprised Kenny knew about it.” I said as I went to look out over the glass barrier at the edge of the building. We looked out in silence for a minute or so when I heard Charlie exhale.
“Y/n, what was that today?” he said running his hands through his hair.
“What was what today?”
“That whole ‘Charlie is my brother’ thing,” he made his voice go up in pitch to mimic my voice when he said it and I could tell it was bugging him, but I didn’t know why.
“I was caught off guard...I mean we’re friends.. but I figured no one would believe that if I didn’t squash the rumors right there. Sorry if it was like, emasculating, or made it seem like you don’t have any game, lol.” I playfully hip bumped him to get him to laugh a little and it worked but there was still something on his mind.
“Char, is your manager upset with what I said? I can fix it tomorrow, I’ll figure something out-” I said tilting my head in front of his so he was looking at me instead of the view.
“No, y/n, no, it’s okay..” he hesitated, “but is that really what’s going on?”
It felt like the wind was knocked out of me at that moment and all I could do was slide my back down the glass and sit on the roof. My head was in my hands and I didn’t want to say the wrong thing next.
“Hey, hey, I’m sorry if I caught you off guard,” Charlie said squatting down to my level. “I just thought..maybe you felt something, anything, telling you this was more than a friend to friend relationship..” Now he was rubbing my back. Damn, this boy is my best friend.
“Charlie, I- I don’t want to lose my job. I love working with you and with everyone,” I took a deep breath, “but I can’t say I never thought about it. I have definitely thought about it.”
“Okay, so what are you thinking in that head of yours?”
“I’m thinking that I care about you and that I have for a while but didn’t want to admit it to myself until now,” looking up at Charlie I could tell he was fighting to hold back a smile.
“Kenny, won’t fire you. I talked to him in LA before we went up to Vancouver because I didn’t want him to be disappointed in me because of how I felt.”
“You told him in LA?! He’s probably been watching us and laughing at us for MONTHS. Oh my god.”
“No, it’s cool. He just warned me to make sure I wanted to be more than friends because he didn’t want to lose you.”
“Wow. Okay.” The weight I didn’t even know I was holding, had been lifted off my shoulders. “The fans really do know us better than we know ourselves.”
We both laughed and Charlie finally settled down right next to me.
“Look, I’m not saying we rush into anything. I knew I had to say something before the opportunity was gone. Now that the show’s out, you’re going to have guys banging down your door for a date.”
“I guess it’s a good thing the only guy I am looking for is you then, hmm?”
“Thank god for that interview…” Charlie said under his breath.
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geek-girl7 · 3 years
Text
Protectors of Illyria
Pairing: Lord Devlon x OC/Reader!ArcheronSister
Summary: Mira Archeron’s life changed the day she was forced into the Cauldron. In order to find meaning in her new life, she becomes the Night Court’s emissary to Illyria while training to become a formidable warrior under the watchful eye of Lord Devlon.
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: swearing probably, extreme fluff, mentions of death
A/N: Hello!! Hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. I've been so excited for this chapter you have no idea. so much fun stuff happens I hope you guys enjoyed the inclusion of Zephyr. I was a little hesitant but you know what there is a lack of animal buddies in acotar so I did it lol. Anyways I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as me. Let me know what you think especially about the possible new romance happening!!
Masterlist
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Chapter 11
“Whoa Zephyr, not yet,” I said stroking Zephyr’s feather covered neck. The sun was just cresting over the mountains as we stood on the edge of a cliff outside Windhaven.
While I was healing this past week, Zephyr had rarely left my side, much to Lord Devlon’s dismay. Eventually, he informed me that Zephyr needed to stay in the forest. He didn’t trust Zephyr not to eat someone. The guilt ate at me so much I slept curled up in the forest with Zephyr. Rhysand and Devlon realized that I would continue to sleep outside, so Rhysand offered to build a stable attached to the cabin. The small stable only took two days to complete so Zephyr didn’t have to brave the woods for long. Since then, I’d spent most of my time in the stable with Zephyr, sleeping at his side.
Zephyr was restless by the time I fully healed, hence why we now stood at the edge of the highest drop near Windhaven. My hand burrowed deeper into his feathers as I leaned forward, surveying the long drop to the bottom.
“That’s a long drop buddy. Guess it’s good you have wings huh,” I laughed at my own dumb joke. Zephyr lightly nipped at my hand, not impressed with my jokes.
“Well, I’m going to be right over here while you stretch your wings,” I turned to sit on a nearby boulder but Zephyr clutched my sleeve in his beak, stopping me.
“What,” I asked. Zephyr let out a low pitched squawk motioning towards his back. “Oh no, no, no, no. That is so not happening. I’ll fall off.” Zephyr responded by using his head to push me towards his back. Stubborn creature. Huffing, I quickly threw my leg over his back, settling my legs right under his wings.
“If I fall, it’s on you.” The wind whipped around us as Zephyr steadily approached the precipice. Zephyr’s black-tipped wings snapped out to their full height. Before I could marvel at the sight of his fully outstretched wings, Zephyr brought them tightly into his body. Then, we were free-falling. I slammed forward and threw my arms around his neck letting out an oomf at the impact. Legs clenched and arms rigid, I held on for dear life.
Whoosh. Zephyr banked right, caught an updraft, and unfurled his wings. With two heavy beats, we rose into the sky and leveled out. The cliff we once stood on was now far below us. Zephyr let out a loud squawk. Seems someone was happy to be flying again.
Zephyr’s excitement was infectious and I was soon loosening my death grip on his feathers. Quickly, I was reminded why I enjoyed flying with Lord Devlon, the freedom. I’d envied the Illyrians because they could always feel this way. It was intoxicating. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath in, enjoying the crispness in the air. Surrendering to the freedom of flying, I relaxed and enjoyed the moment as Zephyr flew.
The sun was high in the sky when Zephyr and I made our way through Windhaven to the cabin. Before my sisters left the other day, we made cookies together just like we had as little kids. Instead of eating all the leftover cookies, I’d decided to bring some to Balthazar when I visited him today.
After freshening up, I walked into the medical cabin. It wasn’t a very hospitable place. I felt bad Balthazar had been here so long. The floors were a dirtied white color and the walls were stark white. Four beds lined both sides of the cabin. Each separated by a partition. My eyes were immediately drawn to Balthazar who was sitting up in bed at the back of the cabin. Shockingly, Vex was asleep in a chair next to his bed. I shot Balthazar a questioning look. He responded by simply shrugging and smiling.
Vex jerked awake from the sound of me dragging a chair towards the Balthazar’s bed.
“Sorry,” I said. Vex simply shook his head, muttered something about food and walked out of the med cabin.
“Has he been here the whole time?” I asked, placing the cookies in Balthazar’s lap.
Balthazar scooped up the bag and popped two cookies into his mouth. Someone was hungry. “No, he left a few times,” Balthazar responded through a mouthful of cookie. Well this was an interesting turn of events of I wasn’t expecting.
“Well I’m glad you seem to be feeling better,” I laughed as Balthazar shoved another cookie into his mouth. “In all seriousness, I’m glad to see you’re ok. I was terrified it was going to take too long to get you back to camp.”
Balthazar swallowed his cookie and smiled. “Right back at you. I heard about the attack. Seems like we both had a shitty hunting trip.”
I scoffed as I put my feet up on Balthazar’s bed. “You could say that again. I don’t think I’m going on another hunting trip any time soon.”
Balthazar chuckled. “I can’t blame you. The Steppes suck sometimes.”
“So how long are you on bedrest for,” I asked.
“Another week. Unfortunately you won’t get to see this amazing face bright and early every morning.”
“What will I ever do without you,” I crooned.
“Perish,” Balthazar said with a completely straight face. Then he cracked, letting out a booming laugh and I quickly joined in.
Vex came back shortly after that, arms laden with food to share. We spent the next few hours eating and talking. Vex was surprisingly nice despite his past behavior. I’d actually enjoyed his company. After awhile, Balthazar started to get tired so I decided to head back to the cabin. I’d just exited the med cabin when a shout from behind stopped me in my tracks.
“Hey, Mira,” I swiveled around and saw Vex jogging towards me. “I just wanted to apologize to you for my behavior. I was a dick and judged you without knowing you. And I’m sorry about the hunting trip. I truly wouldn’t have left you alone if it wasn’t necessary.”
My jaw dropped. Did he just apologize to me? Big, bad Vex apologized? Wow.
“Umm thanks Vex. Just so you know I don’t hold what happened in the forest against you. I could tell Balthazar was in a life or death situation. You made a choice and probably saved Balthazar’s life as a result.” I gave Vex a reassuring smile before we said goodbye.
I was restless when I got back to the cabin. My fingers constantly drummed against the table and I kept re-reading the same lines in my book. Vex’s apology kept running through my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Training was the best option to clear my head.
Loud clangs echoed from the training ring as I approached. A sword was clutched in Lord Devlon’s hand as he attacked a training dummy with precise, strong slashes. The muscles in his arms flexed with the strength of his blows. His wings moved with his body, providing balance when needed.
It was… impressive. I’d never seen Lord Devlon train before. For such a large male, he moved with amazing fluidity and grace. He was light on his feet as he spun and dipped around an inanimate enemy. The sword was an extension of his arm. The movements were precise yet beautiful. This was the trainer and commander of the Illyrian Legion. Honestly, it was pretty hot.
“What are you doing here so late,” Lord Devlon yelled across the training ring. I approached Lord Devlon as he sheathed the sword down his back.
I shrugged. “Restless.”
Lord Devlon nodded. “He’s going to be fine you know. Just needs more rest.”
I sighed and fell back into the fence behind me, rubbing a hand down my face. “I know. I was just so scared for him. And then I couldn’t see him for a week cause I needed to heal.”
A heavy thunk sounded as Lord Devlon leaned against the fence beside me. “I get it, I do. Seeing Vex drag Balthazar’s limp body through the sky just reminded me of all the warriors who died against Hybern. Fortunately, he arrived quickly and our medics were able to get to work on him immediately.”
I shifted slightly, looking Lord Devlon in the eye. “He reminded you of his father didn’t he? Balthazar said you were close.”
Lord Devlon leaned further into the fence, tilting his head up to the sky and releasing a deep breath. “Castor was my right-hand before he died. To me, he was more than a talented warrior and strategist,” a soft smile crossed Lord Devlon’s face as he talked. “Castor was my father’s best friend and when he died, Castor stepped up. He mentored me and helped me become the leader I am today.”
Despite everything between us, I reached over and grabbed Devlon’s hand, trying to comfort him. “He sounds like an amazing male. And he seemed to do a decent job with you,” I snickered. Devlon looked over, tears sparkling in his bright eyes, and squeezed my hand. In that moment, Devlon presented a tiny piece of him, and it was beautiful.
Taglist: @mari-highladyof-feels @imperishableblade let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!!
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achliegh · 3 years
Text
A Plan
Here is the full thing with some updates as well!
It's spicy sexy time! I was at work just doing my job when this idea came into my little ole noggin. It was amazing trying to think of the different clusters of words used to describe exactly what I want to happen. Not to brag but I’ve got some sexy tricks up my sleeve as a professional, lol. IT’S A LONG ONE PEOPLE!
CW/TW: Explicit smutty smutty sexy time, food, sexy talk, chirping
Characters belong to @lumosinlove
It was a low feeling in his belly he wanted to reach out and touch but for some reason anytime he reached for the beautiful men in front of him he could never quite reach. He started breathing heavy and an embarrassing whimper fell from his lips as he watched the two people he loved kiss with a fire so hot he felt it warm his inside. He was so hard. He wanted to touch himself to get some relief but again, he couldn’t reach. It was frustrating in so many ways.
Logan suddenly woke up. His eyes blinked open and all he felt was that he was alone in bed and extremely hard. Like two tugs and he's a goner. He could hear the shower running and wondered how his boys snuck out when he always woke up at the littlest movement. He took a deep breath and was deciding whether he should go and find his boys to have them take care of him or he could just take care of himself and let his boys fuck him after practice. He then had an amazing and horrendous idea enter his head. What if he let his boys fuck him before practice and then tried to act like he totally wasn’t walking a little funny… it was kinda hot and his dick twitched in agreement.
He decided that was the plan he was gonna go with, he looked at his phone and saw they had late practice today (Probably why he slept until 9 am) so that meant they had plenty of time for naughty shenanigans. He smiles to himself as he felt his whole body flush from the excitement of arousal. He tossed himself out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom, the door was slightly open and some music was playing but his mind was so gone he couldn’t even tell you what the song was. He walked into the bathroom to find Finn showering, he snorted when he saw him dancing a little in the shower and singing to the music. His toned body flexing with every move and the water covering his body made him glow like an angel. Logan bit his lip and closed the door all the way and leaned against it, sighing happily as he thumped his head back on the door closing his eyes for a second.
When he looked back at where his lovely redheaded lover was he felt a spike of heat run from his groin to his chest when he saw Finn staring at him. His pupils were blown wide like a wild animal and he was now flushed just like Logan. He stopped his roaming eyes on Logan’s hard cock and noticed a delicious twitch from the to hard appendage. Finn opened the shower door and reached his hand out to the shorter boy with a wild smile.
Logan took his hand feeling like he was still dreaming and was pulled under the hot pulsing stream of water. Finn ran his hands from Logan's hands up his forearms, to his shoulders, to the sides of his neck and back down again. He dragged his nails down Logan's sides making the younger boy feel like he was being swallowed by fire. Logan leaned into Finn pressing open panting kisses to his shoulders and chest. Logan reaches his hands to grip The taller boy's hips in a way of silently begging him to take him, use him, and do as he pleases.
“You know we have practice today right?” Finn spoke into Logan's ear and smirked when he felt Logan shiver, his hands finding his way to the brunette's booty kneading it so it makes it hard for Logan to answer him. He moved his head to look Lo in the eyes, He knows he’s long gone into a sex induced haze. So, Finn gives him what he wants he reached between them and gives Logan's cock a sharp tug and watches the boy almost go crossed as all the breath leaves his lungs. He's gripping Finn's hips like a lifeline. “Tell me what you want, honey. I know you can use your words.” He tips Logan chin up with his hand as he keeps pleasuring him with tight short tugs not giving him fully what he wants.
“I want you- I want you inside mE” His voice pitches up as Finn runs a calloused thumb over the tip of Logan's now leaking cock. Logan feels his heart rate increase as he sees Finn reaching for the lube they just casually keep in the shower because this happens more often than not. It saves water. He feels himself being turned to face the wall and places his hands on either side of his chest. He wants to turn his head and look but he also loves not being able to know what is going to happen. It sends electricity through his body. He hears the cap of the lube open and he steps his legs more apart and arches his back so his chest is flush to the shower wall and he presses his forehead into the cool tile.
“This what you want? Hm?” Finn is rubbing his hands up and down the inside of Logan's thigh just watching him fall apart. He hears a whimper and sees a nod and chuckles a little. He squeezes some lube into his fingers and rubs them together to warm the lube and relax it. He runs his thumb over Logan's entrance and catches him off guard by following his thumb with his tongue and feels Lo’s legs start to shake. He can’t see it but he knows a silent moan fell from his lovers mouth as his jaw hangs open and his eyes squeezed shut. He pulls away to slowly slide his middle finger into the smaller boy and finally hears the sounds of pleasure. Logan moans quietly obviously trying to stay quiet so Leo didn’t come in. He was planning something and Finn was gonna help him. He started sliding his slick finger in and out of the tight ring of muscle and smiles when love starts to push back on his finger. He adds another and but the thought of Logan's tight heat around him makes him want to move his fingers faster but loves watching Logan fall apart before they even get to the main event. He also knew that out of the two Finn was much more soft than Leo when it came to just fucking Logan senseless and Logan was in a mood to be ravaged both ways. Finn loved that.
“Oh Fuck!” He is trying to hold himself together as his fingers flex against the tiles, Finn's fingers feel like they are taking him apart little by little. Like a piece of bread you break off small pieces to eat. But the bread was Logan and he was getting fucked instead of ate… even though he would take both if he was being honest. He felt the fingers slide out of him completely knowing he was stretched enough for Finn and Finn would stretch him enough for Leo. He heard the lube bottle let out a fart sound and couldn’t help but laugh like he was twelve. Finn joined him laughing as he lubed himself up and lined up with Logan's slick entrance. He places his hands on his waist and gives a loving squeeze. Logan turned back to give Finn a little smooch before turning back to the wall and wiggling his tush at him. “I’m waiting” He feels a little smug until Finn pushes himself inside nice and steady, feeling the burn of the stretch take his breath away every time his boys enter him. He moans louder than before and his breathing had picked up as a new wave of arousal washed over him. He lost himself in the fireworks exploding all over his body as Finn was pushed in and pulled out whispering endearing filth into his ear while ramming into his walls trying to find a specific spot that would drive Logan over the edge.
Finn left like he was a little deliourus from just how fucking good Logan was he moaned in a way that drove Finn crazy, he wanted anything he could give him. He was tough enough to handle the harsh angry fucking and sweet enough to handle the adoringly slow love making. He was perfect and the feeling of being inside him was indescribable. Finn knew exactly where Logan's prostate was and knew Logan hated that word because it sounded too medical. He was just trying to bring himself closer to the edge before shoving Logan off it. It was an addictive edge that they frequented now that they were allowed too. The view was amazing.
They blamed Leo for being a teenager when really it was mostly them instigating it.
He wrapped one arm around Logan's chest and pulled himself deeper into him. They were flush together as Finn pressed into Logan's prostate and grinding. He was sucking bruises onto Logan's hot neck, he felt hands reaching up over their heads and gripping Finn's hair pulling his head into Logan's neck. He started working on a hickey that would be a bright magenta by the time he was done.
Logan was on another plane of existence, he felt like he was floating but was incredibly grounding by his hands in Finn's hair as he was grinding into his spot. It was so good tears were forming in his eyes as he forgot to breathe for a moment, his entire body seized up as he fell over the edge. He would have let out a positively indecent sound if his voice wasn’t stolen from him from the immense feelings of love, affection, and pure bliss. When he finally came down from his high the water was cold. Finn reached to turn the water off and pulled out Logan holding him up, as he went limp.
“You still alive there?” He poked Logan's cheek a couple times and felt him laugh as Finn turned Logan around to face him and left a leg go around his waist. “I should have guessed, its never one and done with you” He smiles and leans down to kiss the brunette as he gave his thighs a squeeze. Logan jumped a little so Finn could hold him up with his arms firmly holding his ass. He knew what Logan wanted, he slowly slid himself back into the smaller boy and felt his nails dig into his shoulders. Finn groaned at the feeling of being back inside his lover and the nails causing his skin to buzz. He started fucking up into Logan and heard him whine with over stimulation and dragged his nails from his shoulders to his biceps and gripped them tightly. A second thin stream of come started leaking from Logan's cock. Finn could feel how tense he was and it only took two more thrusts before he felt himself releasing into the beautiful tanned boy. He rested his head on Logan's chest as he fucked through his orgasm, he looked up and kissed him with a burning fever. They made out all teeth and tongue for a few minutes. When they pulled away and rested their foreheads together they were smiling. Both were covered in a red flush. Finn pulled out of Logan and slowly set him down to make sure he didn’t slip. Once they were steady he walked into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed.
Usually, Logan got sleepy right after sex, so he was expecting him to come and flop onto of Finn and be demand to be held. Logan instead went and grabbed a pair of loose boxers and put them on with a shy smile on his face.
“Do you want to come out and have sex with Nutty?” Finn blinked at him for a moment.
“Insatiable” he could hear what sounded like a pan sizzling in the kitchen and guessed Leo was back from his run this morning. Boy was he in for a treat. “I think I’ll sit this one out, but be as loud as you want.” He smiles as Logan gives him a little peck before going out to find their sunshine.
Leo had his airpods in and was listening to music, he came back from his run five minutes ago and was still sweating. He didn’t take off his earphones when he came home because he didn’t want to wake up his boys with his music in the kitchen as he made food. He was watching a couple of ham patties in the pan sizzle when he felt wet hair against his back and a warm body press up against him. He smiled as strong arms wrapped around his waist and leaned back into the warm chest behind him. He turned off the stove and took out one of his earphones.
“Good morning!” He smiles and turns around to see Logan looking adorable with a flushed face from what he guessed was the shower but he had a certain glow about him that he memorized a while ago. “Did you get yourself off in the shower?” When Logan shook his head and his blush got darker Leo understood. “Fish got you off in the shower?” Logan bit his lip and nodded resting his chin on Leos chest looking up at him with a slightly dazed look. “Were you polite and returned the favor?” Logan nods and moves his hands to interlock on the back of Leo’s neck. Leo leaned down to kiss him and made a bit of a surprised sound when the kiss was a lot less chaste then he thought it would be. He relaxed into it and backed Logan up to the counter and lifted him up to sit on the counter as he rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Will you fuck me Peanut?” Logan smiles shyly at him and it is adorable. It gives Leo butterflies because he rarely ever sees Logan this shy and this polite.
“Lube is in the bedroom, we need to move there.” He goes to pull Logan off the counter but is instead pulled back into the smaller boys tight clutch. He has his legs around Leos waist and his arms around his chest koala hugging him.
“Trust me we don’t need it” He is still bright red and buries his face into the younger boy's sweaty chest. He could tell Leo was blushing because he felt his chest heat up. He looked up to see Leo had his mouth hanging open a little and his pupils had grown three sizes. He pushed his hands under Leo's shirt and that seemed to have taken him out of his daze.
“Are-Are you sure you don’t want me to grab it just in case? Also, is the counter really the best spot for this? Isn’t it going to make you even more soar? Wait, we have PRACTICE later!” Of course, a million thoughts are going through his head as Logan takes his shirt off and starts leaving a couple of light love bites on his chest. The older boy starts untying the tie on his shorts and pushes them down so he's just in his running leggings. His mind goes blank as he feels a warm hand cup his quickly filling dick through his leggings. His breath leaves his lungs and all's he can think about is fucking Logan into the counter. He looks at Logan through his eyelashes.
“Right here” he whispers to the younger boy and he suddenly has a hand on his chest pushing him to lie flat on the counter. He smiles from anticipation and moves a little to get comfortable. He feels calloused fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers.
“Why did you put underwear back on?” He runs his fingers under the thigh of
Logan's boxers and smirks when he doesn’t answer. Logan is looking away from him and biting his lip with the cutest blush crawling down his neck. “Was someone feeling shy?” He pulls Logan's underwear off and reaches down to feel just how stretched he is. He will admit that he was expecting a little of Finn still in his lover but he wasn’t expecting him to be dripping with him. There was a tug in his belly from the thought of Logan planning to fuck him while being fucked by Finn. He wonders if he should call Finn in here.
“I asked him earlier, he was a loser and said I wore him out.” Logan hums a little, he's always had a knack for knowing what Leo is thinking. He felt Leo slid three fingers into him easily, he pulled his finger out and he felt Leo lean down to lick his nipple. “Leoooooo, stop stalling!” He huffs a little annoyed and yelps in surprise when he feels a pinch on his side.
“Let me enjoy myself!” He laughs a little and tugs his leggings and underwear down his thighs. He grabs himself and slowly pushes the head of his cock into Logan and watches his face open up. He can’t help but lean down and kiss him. Sliding his tongue into Logan's mouth so he is completely stimulated with only Logan. He snaps his hips forward, ripping a groan from both of them. Then, he set a punishing pace. Fucking Logan deep and hard.
The opposite of Finn, the best of both worlds in Logan's opinion.
He grabbed both Logan's wrists and pulled his arms towards him while keeping Lo laying down. Making him take him further and pounding into his prostate. Logan is loud at both his lovers requests. He isn’t screaming but he is pretty sure if someone walked past their apartment door they could hear him. He could feel himself getting closer to the edge again. Leo had a crazy stamina but since Logan had already come twice today he didn’t know if he could handle more than once… but he really wanted Leo to come in him so he’d hold on as long as he could. Leo placed his hands on either of Logan's waist when he let go of his wrists. Logan reaches up and grips Leos shoulders from under his arms. Holding the younger boy closer to him his breath hitches as he feels Leo slow for a moment and grind into him before picking his pace back up.
“I’m cumming!” He feels the words fall out of his mouth before he even realizes what's happening. He arches his back and bites into Leos shoulder as he drags his nails down his back. He really needs to trim his nails. He comes in between them painting both their chests. Feeling Leo fuck him through his orgasm and not stop makes him smile. He's over stimulated and starting to get a little tired but he still feels so electric with the energy Leo is pushing into him. He can tell the younger boy is getting close by the way his brow furrows and his hips stutter every few thrusts. “Cum for me Leo”
After about twelve more thrusts Logan feels the warmth of Leo releasing inside him and he himself feels like he's coming again but dry this time. He has so many endorphins thrumming through his body he doesn’t feel Leo pull out or pick him up.
“We have about two hours until practice, get some sleep. I’ll wake y’all up when i get done with some food and maybe take a shower.” He smiles as Logan nods, still having a silly smile on his face as he cuddles into Finn's side and buries his face into the sleeping boy's chest.
How did he get so lucky?
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ambivalent-anarchy · 3 years
Text
No-one
Masterlist
Gender: Female
Pairing: Peter Parker x reader
Warning: None
Based on a true story. Just wanted to write something relatable for myself lol and anybody else that's gone through what the reader's going through also wtf it's already thanksgiving break? that's wild
Summary: Peter finds out something about his crush that might totally change the game for him
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"Dare," Ned said, a smile creeping onto his face as the rest of the bus stared at him.
"Okay," you said, looking around for inspiration. "I dare you to..." You tilted your head to the front with a smirk."-go sniff Mr. Harrington's armpit then come back and tell us how he smells," you said, earning some laughs and a disturbed face from MJ.
Ned shuddered slightly, looking to his friend Peter for support. Peter simply shrugged, barely able to hold in his laughter from the frivolous dare.
The entire back of the bus turned to watch as Ned slowly stood up and made his way to the front seat where Mr. Harrington sat, cursing himself out under his breath the whole way there. "Uh, hi Mr. Harrington!"
"Hey there Ned!," Mr. Harrington greeted, but quickly ran himself into a fit of worries, standing up to check the back of the bus. "Why're you up here? What's wrong?"
"Nothing!," Ned yelled, trying to get him to sit back down. "I just... kinda really want to hear about your wife!" Ned looked back to see the entire bus giving him frantic thumbs up.
"Oh," Mr. Harrington said, sitting back down with a blank look on his face. "Well, did I tell you how she set every piece of clothing I bought her on fire and sent me a video of it?" He leaned over a bit as he reached down his pockets to pull out his phone. "I'll show you."
Panicked disgust transformed Ned's face. '1...2...3!' He sucked in a deep breath before practically plunging himself into his teacher's arm.
"Jesus Christ!," Mr. Harrington yelled in shock at being practically tackled by a kid. "What are you doing Leeds?!"
Ned backed up immediately after, face deep red. "Um, I JUST REMEMBERED THAT I LEFT SOMETHING BACK THERE! BYE-!"
The bus erupted with laughter and applause as Ned sprinted back to the back of the bus, leaving a confused Mr. Harrington behind him.
"He smells like cheap cologne," he coughed, his head still reeling. "Cheap cologne covering up a week of no showering..."
"MJ, truth or dare?," Flash asked after the commotion had died down.
"Truth," MJ mumbled, her eyes never leaving her phone.
Flash leaned over till he was practically halfway in Michelle's seat. "Who are the top five hottest guys in our class? Rank 'em." He tilted his ear towards her, obviously expecting to hear his name first.
In response, MJ simply smirked and brought her free hand up to count it off.
"Nobody, nobody, nobody, nobody, and nobody," MJ answered with a shrug, earning multiple groans from many boys on the bus.
"That's not acceptable!," Ned exclaimed.
Brad nodded. "Yeah give us a real answer, Michelle."
MJ scoffed, scrolling higher on her phone. "That's the answer I gave you. Therefore, it's acceptable."
You grinned, shaking your head at MJ. "Can't argue with that logic," you said with a shrug.
It was hilarious to see the boys and their little egos, desperate to hear that Michelle Jones, of all people, thought they were hot.
"Well what about you, [Y/N]?," Brad asked, directing his attention to you.
You raised your eyebrows as nearly all of the boys in the bus turned to you with desperate or curious faces. "What about me?," you asked with a smirk.
"C'mon, who's your top five?," Ned questioned.
You placed your hands over your cheeks. "What and help you little lost boys' fragile male egos?," she teased. "Yeah, no thanks."
The boys groaned.
Peter looked over the seat to where you were sitting. He watched as you held your head up, satisfied at the frustration you were causing the guys. Could he? Should he? Ya know what, screw it.
"Well then, truth or dare [Y/N]?," he squeaked, his hands already shaking.
Your eyes flickered over to Peter curiously. "Um, dare, Pete."
He breathed in deep, face immediately turning red from seeing the entire bus looking at him. "I dare you to tell everyone your crush!," he rushed out. "A-and don't lie!"
But then everyone turned towards you with questions and assumptions and guilt quickly fell onto Peter's shoulders. He couldn't make you say that to everyone. How would he feel if someone did that to him? "Wait, nah no no nevermind, I was just fooling around you don't actually have to-!"
Flash spoke over him. "Yeah [Y/N], who's the lucky guy?"
Abe laughed. "C'mon, spill."
Peter hecticly turned and sat back down in his seat, Ned quick to turn with him.
"Dude, I can't believe you just said that!," Ned whisper-shouted with a large grin.
"I can't believe I just said that!," Peter repeated in a gasp, frozen and staring at the back of the seat in front of him in horror.
"Why did you ask her that?!"
"Why did I really just ask her that?"
Ned gasped dramatically. "Oh my gosh do you think she'll say you?!"
"Oh my God what if she says me?!," Peter reeled.
"No-one. I've never had a crush."
Peter's eyes went wide before he turned back around onto his knees in his seat.
"Wait, seriously?!"
"B.S.!"
"Total lie!"
"I smell cap."
The other guys were obviously not putting up with that answer.
Ned frowned. "Like foreal? You've never had a crush? Like ever? In your entire life?"
Peter however, was still trying to process what he'd just heard.
"No-one."
No.
One.
It's not like he expected you to like him back- a part of him sort of wished for it but he knew that was unlikely- but no chance? None at all?
Suddenly you'd become the new focus for every boy on the bus.
"Seriously, who was your last crush?," Brad asked.
You stared for a while. "Do celebrities count?"
"No."
"Oh, then no-one."
Flash stood up. "How does that even work? Are you ace or something?," he asked, right before getting smacked in the head by Abe.
"You can't just ask people that stuff, Flash!"
Flash shrugged. "Yeah I know...but like-" he wiggled his eyebrows. "-are you?"
You groaned and laid back in your seat, already growing tired of this little 'interrogation' the boys were having. "No. I like guys, okay? I've seen enough to know that much at least" You shrugged. "I've just never liked any guy I've met before."
Millions of questions roamed through Peter's head.
Were you lying? Did you just have high standards that no one you'd been around had ever met? What was keeping you from liking people?
He wasn't some big hot-shot lady killer. There was no way he could be your first crush. That's just narcissistic to even think about. Peter had grown to become quite content with not being the guy who just reeled in girls.
He peeked back over the bus seat at all of the boys surrounding you, obnoxiously attempting to show themselves off.
Brad lifted his sleeves and flexed his biceps. "[Y/N], I mean, c'mon. Can't resist the gun show, right? This does nothing for you?"
That one made you laugh. "You guys really aren't as attractive as you think you are!"
Peter groaned for what must've been the tenth time that morning. And the worst part? He couldn't even be mad.
"So, like never? Never in your life?," Flash asked.
Betty chimed in as well. "Not even that 'puppy love' phase we all had in middle school?"
You shook your head. "Why are you all so invested in who I haven't liked anyway?"
"Okay okay," Brad said. "So if you were gonna like someone, who would you like?"
MJ bursts out laughing and you rolled your eyes. "That is literally the dumbest question I've ever been asked in my entire life. I just said I've never-"
MJ nudged you and tilted her head to one of the seats furthest from yours. Peter Parker and Ned Leeds were sitting there, Ned watching the commotion intensely while Peter was seemingly knocking his head into the back of the seat in front of him repeatedly. Poor guy.
You knew he had a crush on you. You could at least do him this one little favor.
You grinned. "Peter."
"Peter?!"
'What?!"
"Parker?! Are you serious?"
"Awww."
Peter looked up frantically. "Um.. okay..why?"
"Yeah, that needs an explanation [Y/N]," Flash sneered, suddenly losing interest when his name wasn't called.
You shrugged and looked at the nerdy boy. "I like his rosy cheeks," you laughed before looking back at your phone. "Plus, he minds his own business, unlike other people."
The school bus filled, half with sounds of disinterest and the other half with sounds of amusement.
"Now can we go back to actually playing the game now? Jesus..."
The game of Truth or Dare continued and you couldn't have been more glad that the guys' interrogation was finally over. But then you got a text on your phone.
MJ: look at parker
Looking over you saw Ned shaking the boy as he simply just stared out of the window with a dumb look of glee in his face. "Dude, snap out of it! We still have a competition to go to, where's your brain gone?"
Ned turned to you with a frown. "[Y/N]...I think you broke him."
Tagging mutuals: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil l, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @spidey-reids-2003, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @kelieah
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fabulous-fan-fables · 4 years
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Scorpfuma is so cute! So here is some! Quote is by @she-radiator
I realized China doesn’t exist in the actual show so it’s a human au! Scorpia has prosthetic arms I’ve decided
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I added some words so, in case you couldn’t read my handwriting, it says “Hey, what’s with the hat and flannel?” “Oh! It’s because I’m a huge country fan!” “. . .” “China is really big.” “that’s not what I meant” and Scorpias shirt says “I flexed & my sleeves fell off”
Also don’t expect me to post stuff every day I’ve just been oddly motivated lol
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