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lin74irwin · 2 years

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hermes crocodile birkin 25

The Key The Reason Why Wealthy Ladies Resell Their Castoff Luxury Goods It accepts only Chanel, Hermes and Louis Vuitton for pawning however may also buy choose models of a wider vary of manufacturers including Gucci and Prada. The closet spans over 65 sq. metres, and is crammed with an impressive assortment of over 200 Hermès luggage, 300 pairs of footwear and drawers of diamond jewellery. Hermès suppliers slaughter as a lot as four alligators to make only one Birkin bag. The skins are also used to make watchbands, belts, shoes and other accessories. The most expensive Birkin was sold at an auction with a price tag of $380,000. Not surprising that it was none apart from the Himalayan Birkin bag, and it was offered for such a hefty worth due to the albino-white crocodile pores and skin material it was crafted from. Family-owned for 5 generations, Hermes today represents one of the most valuable manufacturers of luxury purses, but two centuries in the past, Thierry Hermes started his professional life as a leather maker. crocodile birkin Renowned for producing high-quality equestrian items, he was the seemingly unremarkable son of a French immigrant father and a German mom, with nothing distinctive anticipated of him. The weigh of an empty Birkin 35 Togo leather-based is about 2 lbs , which doesn’t appear to be a lot, but when you add your contents, corresponding to your leather-based pockets and keys, and necessities diaries, makeup, etc. it might possibly get pretty heavy rapidly. wikipedia hermes crocodile birkin The inside opens to an unlimited open area, also lined with matte leather-based with 2 aspect pockets on each side of the bag. Only the facet pocket on the rear facet of the bag is zippered the other is an open pocket. The Hermès bag received its name from a British singer/actress Jane Birkin, who was seated subsequent to then CEO of Hermès, Jean-Louis Dumas on a flight from Paris in 1983. The Kangaroo Protection Act, federal laws launched in 2021, would ban their sale nationwide. Several retailers, together with Nordstrom, Gucci, Prada, and Versace, have stopped promoting kangaroo pores and skin products. Not everyone can purchase certainly one of these baggage —even when you have the money. In truth Hermès has limits on what quantity of Birkin luggage a client should purchase per 12 months, as reported by the journal. Business Insider revealed that Hermès Birkin baggage can vary anywhere from $9,000 to half 1,000,000 dollars. The publication also reported that Victoria Beckham allegedly has a collection of over one hundred Birkins, and Singaporean socialite and entrepreneur Jamie Chua may be the particular person with the world’s largest Birkin assortment with over 200 luggage. There are also other particular person choices, similar to diamond encrusting. Victoria Beckham, Vivienne Westwood, Diane von Furstenberg and Chanel also do not use exotic skins - alongside excessive street manufacturers corresponding to Topshop, H&M and Adidas. Anne Hathaway returned to old-Hollywood glamour on the 2011 Golden Globes wearing a dramatic rose gold Armani Privé gown from the designer’s autumn/winter 2010 assortment. The floor-length gown was absolutely embellished with paillettes and Swarovski crystals and was accessorised with classic Van Cleef & Arpels earrings. There is no 18K yellow or rose gold hardware made by Hermes’ items, the “Regular’ Himalaya which Chtistie’s has set the earlier couple of information with are all 18K while gold hardware & diamonds. I surprise what the the value of the baggage themselves could be without all the diamonds. The prices appear to rise in tandem with the number of diamonds, so it seems like they're selling diamonds with luggage attatched to them. Obviously, the baggage are useful and nice, however you can put diamonds on something and say it is worth a fortune whenever you're actually just selling a foreign money attatched to an object. With this Birkin bag readily available, you’ll have a purse with detachable parts that could be worn to decorate your self. Designed by Japanese designer Ginza Tanaka, this Hermes Birkin handbag was fashioned from platinum and carries 2,000 diamonds on its outer shell and contains a pear-shaped 8-karat stone centerpiece that can be detached to put on as a brooch. The family knew it wanted to refocus its efforts elsewhere, so three years later, they launched the primary of their leather Hermes purses in response. In 2020, this Hermes crocodile bag sold at an public sale for $437,330. Because the Himalaya Kelly is made with high craftsmanship in a restricted number, collectors consider them extraordinarily desirable. But animal rights activists have slammed the practices used to provide them. It mentioned the animals have been "crudely hacked" in crowded and fetid circumstances, and the skins were used to make Hermes baggage and watch bands. Despite its popularity, the bag options no outstanding logos and is just recognizable to people who already know what it is. These two categories continue to be a mainstay for pawnshops as they attraction to a wider group of shoppers. Singapore’s unofficial “Instagram Queen” Jimmy Chua shared a glimpse inside her attractive wardrobe crammed with hundreds of purses, shoes and clothes. Knowing how expensive Jenner’s bag is, folks took social media to ask how a lot the 23-year-old and mother of one paid for her new nails, and most importantly, to ask if she is a good tipper. “I am wondering how a lot she suggestions you trigger she can’t discover anybody can do her nail perfect than you! “This but with a @brahmin because I don’t have Birkin coins 😅🤩🍂,” another particular person joked. However, resellers contribute to that last figure, and never everything comes directly from the Hermes headquarters. The Hermès Birkin bag’s start occurred when British actress Jane Birkin met Hermès Chief Executive Jean-Louis Dumas again in 1981. Back then, Birkin spent most of her profession primarily based in Paris, France, where she shortly rose to fame. This specific purse at play was a rare Hermès Bordeaux Porosus Crocodile Birkin. With its shiny, blood-hued crocodile body, shiny golden hardware, and retail value of $52,000, this bag is just about unimaginable for all but a comparatively small number of shoppers to get their palms on. I am selling my bag and the client quite rightly needs to know this before purchase. Since the bag has all the time been in my family and barely used but sent to Hermes to be conditioned, both to Her es, Paris and to Hermes, NYC (Mr. Claude labored on this bag till he retired). I don;t imagine there was ever 18K yellow or rose gold hardware by Hermes. If you ought to purchase this bag, you can probably do each and so then it turns into purchase this bag and build the hospital or don’t purchase the bag and construct two hospitals and so forth. The hardware ranges from silver palladium to diamond incrusted. You can now even have your Birkin customized painted, identical to Kanye West had a Birkin painted by George Condo for his then-fiancée Kim Kardashian. A Birkin 30cm in Togo leather-based – a normal type – will set you again round $11,000 within the United States, while you might choose it up for less than €8,000 in Europe, saving you virtually two and a half thousand dollars. As each Birkin is a chunk of unique craftsmanship, taking a quantity of days to supply, they come with an unique price tag.

#hermes crocodile birkin #himalayan birkin #hermes himalayan birkin #crocodile hermes bags #himalayan hermes #himalaya birkin bag #crocodile birkin #himalayan crocodile #replica hermes crocodile birkin

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edvardsenklit8 · 2 years

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Valentino Replica Purses

I am a low/block heel devotee (no heels larger than 3” for me, thanks) and could see myself sporting either for hours. I ordered three colours of Valentino Rockstud kitten heel dupes/reps from 3 totally different sellers, so thought I’d do a side-by-side comparison of the sneakers with the authentics here. You can also use this guide to discover methods to authenticate Valentino shoes your self. Mumbai Noise is extremely wealthy, warm, and has plenty of weight to it. It's good for the colder months, precisely what I attain for once I want to feel warm in and out. Don’t enable the mess to emphasize you out and decrease your quality of life. \”The solely method was by saturating the realm the place he was.\”It triggered him to go to a secure house in Los Mochis. He knew that was going to make him weak, however he had no alternative.\”Every telephone name or text, each motion in the region was analyzed, the ex official mentioned, together with Guzman\u0027s Oct. 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Before or at the time of accumulating personal data, we will establish the needs for which data is being collected. https://calsmedia.nl/valentino-replica.html Valentino Rivet Leather Lace Booties Black Replica The supplies showing on MerchantWords's website online may embody technical, typographical, or photographic errors. MerchantWords doesn't warrant that any of the materials on its web site are correct, complete, or present. In truth, tell the reality flip chain replica bag tote and deal with this element isn't in tune, but many women have a bell replica bag tote can have a handle, you can use the time to take. The again of this bag can also be a lot of advantages. The chain may be long or short, and it can be slanted on one shoulder and handcuffs. wikipedia handbags In short, you possibly can take it with you if you exit to eat, and you aren't afraid of it. This, paired with a coffee notice, creates a heat, darkish, sweet heart with plenty of depth. 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morsingwyatt14 · 2 years

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hermes crocodile birkin 25

The Key Reasons Why Wealthy Women Resell Their Castoff Luxurious Items It accepts solely Chanel, Hermes and Louis Vuitton for pawning however may also buy select models of a wider vary of manufacturers including Gucci and Prada. The closet spans over sixty five square metres, and is filled with a powerful collection of over 200 Hermès baggage, 300 pairs of footwear and drawers of diamond jewellery. Hermès suppliers slaughter up to four alligators to make only one Birkin bag. The skins are also used to make watchbands, belts, shoes and other equipment. wikipedia hermes crocodile birkin The costliest Birkin was bought at an public sale with a price tag of $380,000. Not surprising that it was none aside from the Himalayan Birkin bag, and it was offered for such a hefty value because of the albino-white crocodile pores and skin material it was crafted from. Family-owned for 5 generations, Hermes at present represents one of the valuable brands of luxury handbags, yet two centuries ago, Thierry Hermes started his skilled life as a leather-based maker. Renowned for producing high-quality equestrian goods, he was the seemingly unremarkable son of a French immigrant father and a German mom, with nothing exceptional anticipated of him. The weigh of an empty Birkin 35 Togo leather is about 2 lbs , which doesn’t appear to be a lot, but when you add your contents, similar to your leather pockets and keys, and essentials diaries, make-up, etc. it could get fairly heavy quickly. The interior opens to a vast open house, also lined with matte leather-based with 2 facet pockets on both sides of the bag. Only the facet pocket on the rear facet of the bag is zippered the opposite is an open pocket. The Hermès bag got its name from a British singer/actress Jane Birkin, who was seated subsequent to then CEO of Hermès, Jean-Louis Dumas on a flight from Paris in 1983. The Kangaroo Protection Act, federal laws launched in 2021, would ban their sale nationwide. Several retailers, including Nordstrom, Gucci, Prada, and Versace, have stopped promoting kangaroo pores and skin merchandise. Not all people can purchase considered one of these bags —even when you have the money. In truth Hermès has limits on what number of Birkin luggage a shopper can purchase per year, as reported by the journal. Business Insider revealed that Hermès Birkin luggage can range wherever from $9,000 to half 1,000,000 dollars. The publication additionally reported that Victoria Beckham allegedly has a set of over 100 Birkins, and Singaporean socialite and entrepreneur Jamie Chua might be the particular person with the world’s largest Birkin collection with over 200 luggage. Skin belongs to the animal who was born with it, to not people who need to make things out of it. Suggesting that one animal deserves to maintain her skin more than another is arbitrary. With all the non-animal options obtainable to us, we merely cannot justify stealing anyone’s pores and skin. There is no 18K yellow or rose gold hardware made by Hermes’ goods, the “Regular’ Himalaya which Chtistie’s has set the earlier couple of information with are all 18K while gold hardware & diamonds. I wonder what the the value of the baggage themselves can be with out all of the diamonds. The costs seem to rise in tandem with the number of diamonds, so it seems like they're selling diamonds with baggage attatched to them. Obviously, the baggage are valuable and nice, however you would put diamonds on anything and say it is value a fortune if you're actually just selling a forex attatched to an object. With this Birkin bag on hand, you’ll have a purse with removable elements that can be worn to decorate your self. Designed by Japanese designer Ginza Tanaka, this Hermes Birkin handbag was customary from platinum and carries 2,000 diamonds on its outer shell and features a pear-shaped 8-karat stone centerpiece that may be indifferent to put on as a brooch. The household knew it needed to refocus its efforts elsewhere, so three years later, they introduced the primary of their leather Hermes purses in response. In 2020, this Hermes crocodile bag sold at an auction for $437,330. Because the Himalaya Kelly is made with excessive craftsmanship in a limited quantity, collectors consider them extremely desirable. Much just like the world of luxury watches, Birkin luggage have become an funding that you just make a reasonably profit off additional down the road. The French trend house began in 1837 as an equestrian model, selling saddles, before they ventured into the world of leather goods and trend. "Customers can also observe the price of the particular Birkin bags they have their eye on with Clair," says Gorra, which is able to enable shoppers to stay inside a specific price range and make an knowledgeable buy. Keep in mind that, though an Hermès Birkin isn't a typical luxurious buy, it's one that doesn't start decreasing in worth from the moment you might have it in your arms. "The course of of buying an Hermès Birkin bag on the primary market is shrouded in mystery to maintain the allure of exclusivity," says Gorra. Was one of many original “It Bags” and has turn out to be considered one of fashion’s most unique standing symbols. re-pin.me replica hermes crocodile birkin Whose large-scaled niloticus skin is painstakingly hand-dyed to resemble the snow-capped Himalayas. Receive our newsletter and discover our tales, collections, and surprises. Please notice that Pick up service can only be schedule for a next enterprise day. Prepare your package deal with the items to return and embrace your bill. Select which items you wish to return, then please observe the directions. Mightychic offers a assured genuine Hermes Birkin 30 bag options beautiful and breathtaking Jade in Porosus Crocodile. This authentic Hermès Camel Crocodile 35cm Birkin is in wonderful plus condition. Incredibly rare and specially ordered, this unique Birkin is really stunning in neutral camel with w... This Birkin is in Craie togo leather with rose gold hardware and has tonal stitching, front flap, two straps with heart toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, and double rolled handles.The inside is lined with Craie chevre and has one... This Birkin is in Craie togo leather-based with gold hardware and has tonal stitching, entrance flap, two straps with heart toggle closure, clochette with lock and two keys, and double rolled handles. The interior is lined with Craie chevre and has one zip pocket... The hardware ranges from silver palladium to diamond incrusted. You can now even have your Birkin custom painted, identical to Kanye West had a Birkin painted by George Condo for his then-fiancée Kim Kardashian. A Birkin 30cm in Togo leather-based – a normal style – will set you again round $11,000 in the United States, whilst you could decide it up for lower than €8,000 in Europe, saving you almost two and a half thousand dollars. As each Birkin is a piece of unique craftsmanship, taking a number of days to produce, they arrive with an unique price ticket.

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falcqns · 3 years

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Medicine

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: You finally get drunk enough to admit your feelings to Henry

Warnings: smut, bodily fluids, swearing

A/N: my hand slipped omg. I was inspired to write this while listening to Medicine by Harry Styles and this is the result. Hope you enjoy!

Here to take my medicine, take my medicine

you took another shot of vodka while eyeing Henry from where he was across the dance floor.

As usual, he was completely oblivious to the horde of women basically throwing themselves at his feet. Like, come on, he had to know how attractive he is, right?

Treat you like a gentleman

His eyes met yours from where he was standing, and he gave you a charming smile, which you very reluctantly returned.

Sure, you had a crush on him. Who didn't?

You, however, considered yourself unlucky because you had to work with him everyday, which didn't help your feelings.

You downed a shot once more, before tearing your eyes away from Henry and scanning around the room for others you knew.

To your surprise, you didn't see anyone else that you knew.

Fucking of course, you thought to yourself.

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

As you swallowed one more shot, you made a decision.

You were tired of him not knowing how you felt. You were tired of feeling jealous watching him flirt with other females and desperately wishing that was you.

So, instead of wallowing in your own pity, you decided to do something about it.

You stood up, and walked towards him. You cut through the horde of women, and right past him. You smiled and traced your hand from his right pec to his bicep, eyes locked on his blue ones.

I think I'm gonna stick with you

You felt his eyes follow you to where you were walking towards the bathroom.

You were getting to him.

Here to take my medicine, take my medicine

You checked your makeup in the mirror before pulling out for phone.

You opened messages and began to compose a message to your best friend.

‘I’m making a move tonight,’ is all the message said, knowing your best friend would understand the context.

In reality, she was supposed to come with you, but ended up not being able to take the weekend off of work to fly out to England to be with you. So, you’d settled for updating her through text.

She texted back almost immediately.

‘thank god, its only been a year and a half,’

You laughed and typed out a response before dropping your phone back into your pocket.

‘I'll let you know how it goes,’

Rest it on your fingertips Up to your mouth, feeling it out Feeling it out

Henry was waiting for you as you exited the bathroom. He had that annoyingly charming smile on his face again.

“Can we dance?” Was all he said, giving you his hand. You nodded, and accepted, allowing him to lead you away from the bathrooms and onto the dance floor.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I'm wasted

His hands wrapped around your waist, and tour hands landed on his shoulder.

Your eyes connected as another song started. You didn't know what one, but you could feel the melody pulsing through the spaced between yours and Henry’s bodies, almost acting as a magnet.

Henry pulled you closer, so you were flush against him, and you tried to ignore the butterflies swirling in your stomach.

And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you tasted

Henry dropped his mouth to graze against your ear, and he breathed out the lyrics to the unknown song, sending a shiver down your spine.

As the music grew, so did your need for him.

Was it from the multiple shots you took, or was it from Henry himself? You had no idea, but suspected it was the latter.

You dropped your head slightly to give him access to your neck, hoping he’d get the message.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it We're getting dizzy

His head dropped to your neck, and inhaled your scent before letting out a breathy moan.

His hands tightened on your back and tried to pull you closer, which caused even more arousal to pool in your panties, if that was possible.

“Fuck, you kill me,” He rasped.

The only thing that came out of your mouth was a moan.

“I’ve been dead since I met you, Hen.” You teased, and watched as his eyes darkened.

He tightened his grip on your hips even more, and began to grind his hips into yours.

You felt his erection straining through his dress pants, so much so that you were amazed the pants hadn't ripped yet.

Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes

His mouth moved from your neck to you ear.

“Will you let me take you home?” He grunted out. “Because if we stay like this any longer I’m going to end up Fucking you right here on the dance floor.

You're entire body trembled and groaned in response.

“Fuck, of course,”

He grabbed your hand pulled you toward the door. The two of you didn't bother saying goodbye to anyone, your need for each other too urgent.

As soon as his white BMW was in reaching distance, you were pushed up against it.

His hands roamed your body, and his mouth nipped at your neck.

You let out a strangled yelp of pleasure, and attempted to grind against him, desperate for pleasure, but he stopped you.

“My place or yours?” He purred.

“Yours,” You said without hesitation. His place was bigger, and closer, and wasn't right beside a nursing home after all.

Tingle running through my bones

His left hand never left your thigh. It stayed there, warmth spreading through your body from it, squeezing your thigh.

You eventually placed your hand on top of his, and stroked the veins popping out.

You saw him let out a small smile as you traced the veins, his eyes still focused on the road.

As soon as his house came into view, he was unbuckling yours and his seatbelts, very eager for the events about to unfold.

The car was parked, and turned off. You and Henry all but jumped from the vehicle before your hands were all over each other once more.

The boys and the girls are in

His hands came to rest underneath your bum, and you were lifted up. You wrapped your arms around his neck for stability.

Your centre was pressed against his, and your breasts were pressed just under his chin, his stubble tickling the sensitive skin.

He carried you in the house, and into his room, before laying you in the bed. He shrugged his jacket off of his body, allowing it to fall to the floor, before he reached to free your sore feet from the stilettos you had decided to wear that night.

Not that he was complaining, your legs looked fucking incredible.

He kicked his dress shoes off before climbing on the bed with you.

I mess around with him

He positioned himself above your body, his right leg pushing your two legs apart, his arms coming to rest on either side of your head, and his mouth firmly attached to yours.

He kissed you hard, before swiping your bottom lip. You immediately opened your mouth, and his tongue was swirling around yours in seconds.

He rolled onto his side, then to his back, pulling you with him so you were straddling his hips.

You splayed your hands over his pecs to give yourself some leverage, before you thrusted your hips against his, eliciting a desperate moan from both you and Henry’s lips.

“Fuck,” He exclaimed shakily, his hands gripping your waist and hold g you down against his erection. “If you don't stop, I’m going to cum right here.” You smiled down at him softly, teasing him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

He groaned before pushing his right hand underneath your dress material and onto your mound that was currently covered by your lace panties, which were the same colour as your dress.

And I'm okay with it

His hands moved over your hips, and trailed up your back to the zipper of your dress.

He looked you dead in the eyes, searching them with his for consent.

“You want this?” He asked slowly.

You moaned out, and ground your hips into his hand, attempting to make him feel how wet you were. “If I didn’t, would I be this wet?”

Henry cried out, and zipped your dress before pulling it over your head. The second your arms were freed from the fabric, your fingers were working to undo all the buttons on his dress shirt.

Moments later, the rest of his clothes, along with your remaining lingerie were thrown on the floor, and Henry had flipped you over once more.

He pressed another hard kiss to your lips before trailing them down your neck, littering hickies across your skin.

His hands spread your thighs apart even farther, and his eyes met yours, before he dove into you, licking, and sucking.

“FUCK!” You sobbed out, and his tongue swiped over your clit over and over again.

Your hands flew to his head, and you tugged on his brown curls as he continued his assault on your pussy.

Just as you felt your climax approaching, he pulled his mouth away, and came back to hover over you once more.

His hand was fisted around his hard cock, as he stroked it back and forth.

“You ready?” He asked, and you nodded, spreading your legs apart even more to show how you were dripping for him.

He whimpered at the sight, and slowly eased himself in.

The two of you immediately cried out at the sensation. Henry bottomed out moments later, and you begged him to move.

“Fuck, Henry, please move.” You begged, grinding your hips against is.

You watched as a shutter pulsed through his body, before began to move.

I'm coming down, I figured out I kinda like it

His head fell to your shoulder as his hips rolled into yours.

You gripped your hands on his back as he slid in and out at an alarming speed.

His lips brushed your ear with every thrust, pouring moan after moan directly into your ear.

“You’re such a good girl. My good girl.” He cooed into your ear.

“Wanted this so long,” You sobbed out, and Henry moaned back in acknowledgement.

“S-same. Holy fuck.”

You hooked your right leg around his hip and flipped so you were on top, before moving yourself off of him slightly and then slamming yourself back down on him.

“FUCK!” He shouted, and his hands started their journey your hips before you stopped them.

You gripped his wrists' and pinned them above his head.

“I’ve wanted this longer, let me have my fun,” You grunted at him, as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Now it was his turn to sob. “B-baby, please,”

You ground your hips into his before resuming your harsh pace on top of him, and crying out.

“So close,” You cried. He growled and threw his head back.

“S-same baby. Oh god,” He groaned. “Fuck, you gonna come on my cock?” “YES!” you sobbed out, and he continued to talk.

“Fuck yeah you are, baby, fucking come all over me,”

And with that, your orgasm ripped through you, and you came with a scream on top of him.

He flipped you over and pushed himself all the way inside of you, before stilling, and filling you up with his release.

And when I sleep I'm gonna dream of how you ride it

He pulled out of you with a grunt, and laid beside you. He pulled you into his arms, and the two of you drifted off to sleep in the afterglow.

Just before you fell asleep, however, you remembered the name of the song I the club.

it was Medicine by Harry Styles.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry!holmes #harry styles #medicine #smut #oops #myhandsslipped

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binniesthighs · 3 years

Text

two tails | reader x minho |

Two

Pairing: self insert, female reader x lee minho

Genre: strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, fluff

Tags: neighbors au, comfort fic, catowner!minho, catowner!reader, author!reader, bestfriend!seungmin, coworker!hyunjin, florist!jisung, punk!jisung (yeah boiiii), agedup!skz, slow burn, plot-driven, gradual romance, lil bit of angst, strained parental relationship, explicit language, mentions of food, passive body shaming

Word count: 5.5k (y e e t we love self indulgence)

Tagging: @lauraneuuh

Chapters

P | ONE | TWO | THREE

busybody noun

:an officious or inquisitive person.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

There are a couple things that your mother is known for--or rather, a couple things that she has been deemed.

Mother, wife, friend, matriarch, socialite, unofficial event planner, gossip, show off, professional nagger, and, to certain people, bitch.

And yet, somehow your mother was intertwined with some of the most prominent circles within the city, and she knew everything about everyone’s business. Frankly, she often didn’t have anything better to to with her time. ” If she had any job at all, it would be calling you every weekend to give her opinions on your rather “less than auspicious” life choices.

To her, another one of your “less than auspicious” life choices had to do with the way that you had dressed yourself; however little sense this made.

Your mother sipped at her tea with dainty fingers, barely cracking with age due to her expensive hand creams.

“Quickly. Go get changed. We don’t have much more time and you’re dallying. It should fit you, just as long as you haven’t put on any more weight.” Her hawk-like gaze inspected your hips and thighs. “Hmm. I think you’ll be fine.”

Seungmin, where he sat on the couch with perfect posture tapped his feet up and down with discomfort.

I hate you for doing this to me, he glared at you with despair, hiding it behind the wide smile he performed for your mother.

“What? Do you not trust me to be alone with your friend here?”

Your best friend nervously chuckled out in that little puppy-like way that he would. “What? Ahh no, I’ll be fine, go on Y/n, I should be leaving soon anyway, I was just stopping by.”

Your mother’s eyes followed you up your staircase, watching for the very moment that you closed your bedroom door. The second you did, her snide voice hissed out loud whispers, undoubtedly drilling Seungmin about the usual questions: are you married, where do you live, what’s your profession, what does your family do etc.

The little metal zipper of the pencil skirt pinched your fingertips as you attacked it up your body. Once again, your mother had underestimated your clothing size. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes looking at the tags for the designer matching skirt and blazer ensemble. There was nothing in your mother’s life that didn’t denote the status that she “worked so hard for.”

In a way, you hated that you had done this to Seungmin as well. Initially you had thought that having some kind of male presence over when your mother arrived would deter her stabbing remarks about your singledom, but in fact, it has just made it worse. For once in your life, you just wanted to hold something over her. Now, you’d likely traumatized the best friend that you had.

You nearly slipped on the carpeted stairs in your nylon stockings on the way down, but held fast the the banister, looking a bit like some kind of sad, business-casual, plastic-looking prom queen.

Seungmin’s eyes widened seeing you in the toning skirt. Likely you knew that he must’ve been keeping his jokes to himself the very best that he could--you wouldn’t hear the end of it later.

“Wonderful. Let’s get going.” Your mother set down her teacup with a clink. “I’ve got some cosmetics in the car that you can use as well. We’ll be stopping off at the flower shop before we get to the venue. I’ve ordered an arrangement for the bride-to-be.”

“I feel like a China doll.” You muttered under your breath, catching a little laugh from your friend. Your eyes met as if to ask him if he was okay, which he rolled his eyes as his answer.

You put on the only pair of kitten heels that you owned: they were brown, banged up and the pleather was cracking a little at the edges. Of course, your mother let out an exasperated sigh upon seeing them.

“I’ll bring shoes next time.”

Seungmin politely opened the door for the both of you and the spring morning’s sun washed your face in it’s warmth. The morning was perfect: the exact kind of day that you would spend in your garden writing or reading on the single-person porch swing you had just installed. Dew still held to the Kelly green blades of grass and your cherry blossom tree bowed a little in the breeze.

“Well, it was nice meeting and speaking with you Seungmin--”

“--We’ve met before thou--”

“--You seem to be a strapping and organized young man. I do hope that you consider what we discussed.”

Seungmin appeared to flush a little, “I-I’ll think about it.”

You tugged at your friend’s shirt, pulling him in to whisper, “What the hell did she talk to you about?”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes fluttered around nervously. “She just kept going on about how she wanted me to--”

“--Oh, Y/n!”

From your mother’s surprised expression on the other side of the car, to the way that Seungmin stopped dead in his sentence, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Your body turned around in slow-motion, hoping that this must have been some kind of nightmare, and that you hadn’t woken up that morning yet and were cozily still tucked in bed.

If it would have been socially acceptable, you would have hidden behind that car until he walked away, but it was too late considering he already knew you were there.

Your mother let out some kind of ungodly squeal before rushing towards Minho and taking his hand in hers to shake.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you! I take it that you know my daughter? And who might you be, such a handsome man as yourself???”

You really did contemplate hiding behind that car.

It was unfair how you had to run him into at a time when he looked like that. Your mother was nearly eating him with her eyes while Minho looked to you in his confusion.

Of course when your mother had to see him, he was fresh off of his morning run: white cotton sleeveless shirt, running joggers, a thick headband with sweat dripping down his body in rivets from his forehead to the curves of his toned arms.

Life was just too fucking unfair.

“Minho!” Internally, you crawled so far into yourself it was like you were barely there. You squeaked out the words coupled with a poorly-timed voice crack, “I didn’t plan on seeing YOu here!”

“Minho?!” Seungmin echoed your phrase, grabbing onto your arm with force.

“Uh, hello, nice to meet you I’m Lee Minho. And yes, I do know Y/n, I actually live a couple doors down--”

“--A neighbor! How wonderful! I know she doesn’t leave the house that much, but I’m so glad that the two of you have met. Do you live your family..? Or...your wife...?”

He smiled warmly, polite as always, “No Ma’am, I’m not married, I live with my mother.”

“Your mother? Well, that’s very honorable.”

You and your best friend locked eyes upon hearing the answer to the question that both of you had been silently wondering.

With a little eyebrow raised, he gave you a smirk, before braiding his hand through his locks strung with sweat. “I also live with my cats too.”

“Cats?” Your mother tried her best to hide the distaste in her mouth. “That’s...honorable as well. Taking care of animals is...hm, well, Y/n get in the car, time is ticking!!”

Your mother’s shrill voice was clipped by the sound of the car door closing behind her. You and your best friend choked in silent laughter together.

“Are you sure I don’t look ridiculous?” You patted down your itchy grey blazer.

Seungmin nodded, “Do you want me to tell you the truth? Not your colors. But, you’ll just have to live with it.”

“I think that you look nice.” Minho’s compliment melted into your skin like honey. “But I agree, the colors don’t work the best. Sorry.”

“Oh. Thank you...” Your cheeks warmed, “Sorry! God, I’m-this is Seungmin, my-my friend Seungmin, sorry I didn’t introduce you both, my head is just--”

“--Nice to meet you. Finally.” Seungmin’s expression turned a bit more stoic, a stark contrast to his softer features.

“Nice to meet you as well.”

“Okayyyy, well, I’ll just...get going then. See you both...later.”

Seungmin slammed the door behind you, leaving you with your huffing mother in the car.

“All of these handsome men around you and you can’t lock down one? I can’t believe you...” She threw her makeup bag on your lap. “I’ll play matchmaker if you want me to, I don’t mind, but you know that I have a lot going on already--”

“--Haven’t you already started? Don’t pretend like you didn’t tell Seungmin something. Seungmin is my friend, mom.”

“I just don’t get you. Aren’t you ever a bit sad that you don’t get invited to things like this since you have no female friends...?”

“Honestly? I don’t really care--”

“--You should. Thank God that you have me.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

The front windows to the floral shop winked in the morning sun and the gold lettering of the signage glistened with a similar glow. On the display, there were several dozens of different types of flowers all arranged into different glass vases, tied with bows or swaddled in burlap. The arrangements of roses, chrysanthemums, peonies, daises, sunflowers and other wildflowers appeared to be freshly cut, and beaded with water droplets.

“Here. Take my card. If any of them seem to be brown at all, tell them that you won’t pay until they fix it.”

You took the little plastic card from her red painted nails. “Will do.”

There was a little bell hung over the shop door, and it tinkled when you entered like fairy chimes. The entire place seemed a little magical: the kind of place that you would find yourself reiterating in your writings. On the marble tiled floors, flecks of dirt seemed to gather in the grout.

The golden brass counter stretched on for nearly the whole length of the shop, and held a display case which doubled as a cooler holding smaller things like corsages and boutonnières.

“Can I help you?”

The man approached you wiping the dirt off of his hands onto his canvas apron which was stained with smudges of green and brown. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the tattoos adorning his arms in beautiful patterns of black with muted colors of yellow, lavender and pink. They were nearly all floral in design and reminded you of the drawings from a botany book. His shaggy dark hair had a bit of a curl to it that tasseled over his eyes. His smile too was devastatingly charming, decorating it was a black hooped lip ring.

“Here to pick up an order?”

“Y-yes, for L/n.”

“I just finished that one up, lucky for you.” He palmed through the little stack of receipts near the register. “I’ll go get it real quick.”

It was criminal how fast you found your heart beating after hearing how strikingly soothing his voice had sounded. You also found your head spinning over how familiar he seemed, like someone you had met before, but couldn’t place where.

He had brought the sizeable arrangement over, and upon seeing it, you knew that your mother must’ve asked them to pull out all the works. Not only were flowers like this a bit of an unusual bridal shower gift, but it was just one more way for her to show off. The moment that the two of you would arrive with that, heads would turn, and that was exactly what she wanted. It was so large, you had to crane a little to see the florist behind it.

“That’ll be 360.”

Never had you been more thankful to pay for a gift with someone else’s money.

When you passed him the card, you noted the little scrapes up and down his hands and forearms, looking a bit like cat scratches.

“It’s the roses.” He chuckled. “This job is a lot more dangerous than you would think.”

“Oh.” A heat in your cheeks rose along with his observation of you.

“Beautiful day isn’t it?” He tapped at the register, then nodded to the sunlight streamlining in from the windows. There were little rainbows speckling the store from the prisms hung above the displays.

“I-it really is.”

Your eyes wandered to his nametag which looked like he had decorated with hand-drawn stars. Jisung. Once again, he caught your eyes, slyly rolling his tongue over that black hoop.

“It’s the kind of day that makes me wish I wasn’t cooped up in here and doing something else; going somewhere else. You seen the cherry blossoms yet?”

“I-I have one in my yard.”

“Oh really? It’s my favorite time of year because of them.”

His smile was a bit in the shape of a heart, and the way that his eyes smiled along with it was just as charming as the rest of him.

Blaze.

He was Blaze.

Quite literally, never in your life could you have said that you had felt your heart skip a beat, but, you imagined that there’s a first time for everything.

He scribbled down something down on the receipt, handing you both the card and the slip.

“Have a good one, ‘kay?”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would have slapped yourself square in the face, right then and there, to snap yourself out of your awe.

“Yo-you as well.”

It was a miracle you didn’t drop that expensive-ass floral arrangement getting out of there as fast as you did.

“What took you so long? People will start wondering where we are.”

Your mother said a couple more chastising remarks, but they faded away once you looked at the crinkled piece of paper on your hand:

I hope to see you again, Blossom.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“Y/n!!! Oh my god, I am so happy to see you. I’ve been decaying, simply drying out in this office all by myself.”

You swatted your melodramatic friend by the backside of his head, subsequently ruffling up his perfectly primped long, blond hair.

“Shut up. You’re surviving just fine without me.”

Hyunjin lowered his voice into a rather loud whisper, “Everyone here is just so boring.”

“I don’t know what you’re expecting ‘Jin. It’s a publishing company, all we do is read here. You kind of did it to yourself too. Hell, you edit the children’s books!! You don’t have a thing to complain about.”

“Are you sure that you can’t take an office here? We could eat lunch together, make coffee together from that broken-ass coffee machine, and bitch about Mr. Yoon together. By the way, what are you doing here anyway besides not seeing me?”

“Picking up a couple manuscripts. I finished the ones from before.”

“You’re inhuman. I don’t know how you get through 300+ pages over a weekend.”

You shrugged, “It’s just what I like to do, that’s all. And, no, I will not be taking an office here, not when I have my classes too.”

“Aren’t you the perfect symbol of adulthood.” Hyunjin pulled up for you the creaky plastic office chair from the empty desk next to his.

“Tell that to my mother, I think she’d have a different oponion.”

“Screw your mother--and you can tell her that I said that too.” Your coworker fiddled with his white collar, pulling it from his neck. You knew how much he hated those and would have much rather preferred the silky low-cut ones which had become his trademark.

“If only it were that easy.”

“How’s Princess Bomi doing?”

“My cat or the story?”

“I was talking about the story, but sure, tell me about your cat too.”

Hyunjin was a sarcastic little shit, but that was why you loved him. Seungmin tended to be the same sometimes--you surmised that perhaps you made the same type of people gravitate towards you.

“It’s been pretty well received actually, and I think I’m just about done with the first book, there’s probably only a few chapters left. I just passed 8,000 reads.”

“Wow, that’s actually...really impressive. I mean it.”

When he wasn’t being a sarcastic little shit, Hyunjin was actually a genuine friend. He had been supportive of your writing ever since he forced the information out of you a few months ago after seeing a your chaotic notes mixed in with your manuscript ones. Of course, he had laughed at the prospect of you naming your main character after your cat, but he understood otherwise.

“You’ve been getting good feedback?”

“Mmhm! They really like Bomi as a character, that, and it seems like Blaze has some fans too...”

Upon saying the same, the boy from the flower shop sneakily crept back into your head along with that stupidly Blaze-like smile of his--or at least, the smile that you had always pictured Blaze to have.

Hyunjin snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Earth to Y/n? Where did you go?”

“Huh? Oh sorry, I think I just got...lost in thought.”

“I said I think that you should really consider brining it to the company. What if they want to publish it? I think that it’s worth a shot. You said yourself that its successful online. What makes you think that people wouldn’t be interested in the print version?”

“I--Hyunjin, Princess Bomi is kind of a personal thing...”

“--Why do I even bother!” In his mock disgust, Hyunjin crossed his flabbergast arms against his chest. “I’m only trying to give you a helpful suggestion.”

Above the two of you, the florescent white lights bore down on you with a harsh luminescence.

“But--” You shyly picked at the hem of your blouse, “I could use your help with something else.”

“What?”

“What do you suggest that I wear...to meet someone’s mom?”

Hyunjin practically leapt out of his chair and three feet into the air.

“YOU’RE MEETING SOMEONE’S MOTHER?! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!!”

“Get your ass back down in your seat.” You whipped your head around to see your coworkers concerned glances. “Yes, I am.”

“Thank God that you asked me. This is a serious matter.”

“I can’t exactly ask Seungmin...so...”

“Don’t you worry! I know exactly what you can do. So,” His voice turned sing-songy, “~What’s he like~ And how come you didn’t tell me about this sooner??”

“-Because I knew that you would have this exact same reaction.”

“I promise I’ll calm down, okay, go:”

“Well, he’s my neighbor, and I’ve only met him a few weeks ago, and he’s got cats, and he’s really sweet and not to mention hot as well but in like kind of a... cozy, librarian kind of way? Anyway, he wears cardigans--and you know that I’m a sucker for a good cardigan--and I’m convinced that the universe is trying to get me to destroy him but, that’s beside the point--”

“Slow down slow down! Literally all of the words you said just now don’t make sense together.”

You wheeled your chair closer to the man across from you, “And then he asked me to meet his cats and his mom or maybe just his cats or his mom, he was kinda unclear about that now that I think about it...”

“So he’s hot and has cats, hmm, sounds right up your alley.”

“I-I guess.”

“Are you sure he’s not, you know, trying to be neighborly?”

You punched Hyunjin’s arm so hard you jiggled your glasses on your face. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Sorry I brought it up! Ok, ok, I think I know what you should do. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you bag this sexy librarian man?”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

“I sure as hell hope that you’re not trying to be neighborly.”

You smoothed down your freshly ironed blouse: a floral pattern with birds, something “light and springy” just as Hyunjin had recommended. The pleats in your trousers were in shape as well. He had suggested too that you tied your hair up, something about it being professional and “dateable.”

Bomi sauntered up to you while you inspected your outfit in the full-length mirror. Her gorgeous green eyes were squinted after her day-long nap, and she yawned while she brushed up against your leg.

“To what do I owe the pleasure Bomi?” You bent down to pat her head, which she promptly shied away from. “You think that this looks good? Mother-worthy?”

Bomi blinked.

“Thanks for your input Bo.”

Another yawn.

Your nightstand held your little jewelry tree, and from it you took a dainty silver necklace that hung just above the neckline of your blouse, as well as the thin tan wristwatch that you wore once in a blue moon.

The watch face read 5 o’clock exactly.

“Shit! Shit shit shit shit!.”

Bomi scrambled out of your way as you flew around the room trying to find a matching pair of socks. You stopped one more in front of the mirror. Your mother’s words always did find a way of seeping back into your skin like poison. Even if you had looked “nice” a nagging voice deep down echoed: “you’ve only ever been less than auspicious. Why don’t you ever change that?”

“Screw your mother.” Hyunjin had said.

If it only was that easy.

Your footsteps clomped down the stairs, and you threw on the same pair of kitten heels.

“Shit. The gift.” You slapped your forehead, cursing your horrid memory.

“And don’t forget to bring his mother something. A gift. Something small but thoughtful. Something that she can use. Mothers eat shit up like that.”

You frantically searched your entire home for something that resembled a gift. After a few moments of searching, you had resolved to go without it--you’d explain that it was in the mail, or misplaced, or anything but the fact that you didn’t have one. You grabbed your humorous amount of keychains on your keys, eyes catching that little box of complimentary chocolates from the bridal shower.

“Good enough.”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

One more time, you checked your reflection in the glass door leading to Minho’s mother’s townhouse.

“This is fine, you can do this. Don’t screw this up, you’re fine, you’re fine.”

Minho opened the door, looking as confusingly adorable and downright gorgeous as you had grown to know him as. This time, he had ditched the cardigan for a sky blue sweater that still pooled at his palms. Seeing how casually he had dressed, you instantly felt overdressed, and made a mental reminder to cuss out Hyunjin when you got the chance later.

“Come in,” He gently ushered you to the spot where you switched on shoes for slippers.

“You-um, look really nice.” Minho pushed up his glasses up his nose bridge, “Really pretty.”

“Th-thank you, um, you too.”

He snickered, “No one has called me pretty before.”

“Shit, Sorry, that was weird, sorry, I’m just kinda...nervous.”

“No, not at all, I don’t mind. I appreciate the compliment.”

You stood at the doorway, awkward silence permeating the air. Suddenly, you remembered the chocolates in your hands.

“Oh, this is for you and your mother, I thought I might as well bring something over...”

Minho took it from you, and you prayed that he wouldn’t think too much of the packaging that just looked a little too wedding-y.

“Thank you for this.” He popped the box open excitedly, “What kind are they?”

It took a couple seconds, but you watched in horror as his expression turned from thrilled to deeply confused.

“What is it?” You craned your neck over to see.

“Are they...supposed to look like that?”

Inside of the little plastic compartments, each of the chocolates had melted into blobs pathetically and swirled together making one huge, brown, melted--and then solidified again--chocolate mess.

“Oh my god.” Your throat felt as tight as a knot in your embarrassment. “They’ve...”

Minho hurriedly closed the box. “It’s okay! Don’t worry about it.” He tried the best he could to suppress his laughter. “It’s still about the same.”

“No it’s not.” You whined out the words. “Don’t let your mother can’t see them, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What happened to them?”

Your horrid memory suddenly let you remember the fact that those chocolates had stayed in the car after the bridal shower when you had gone to visit your mother’s home.

“Nothing good, just-hide them--”

“Minho? Is that Y/n? Is she here?”

“--Hide it, quick!!!”

Minho shoved the box behind a large houseplant, still hiding his laughter caught in his throat.

“Ahhh Y/n! It’s so good to meet you at last! I’ve heard so much about you!”

You greeted Minho’s mother with a bow, throwing the box of chocolates a disdainful glare. She was a gentle looking woman who appeared to be a little older than your own, or, perhaps the same age. You wouldn’t be surprised if your mother had paid enough to procure the elixir of life; sounds like something she would have done.

“I’m so happy to meet you as well. Thank you for inviting me in.”

“Minho!!” His mother nudged his arm, “You didn’t tell me how pretty she was.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat when you gave another little bow in thanks. “Your home is really lovely too.”

“Oh, it was all Minho’s idea, I’m just the one that did the cooking. I’m always happy to cook for a neighbor.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve got a couple more things to prepare, Minho, you go show her the cats, I’m sure that she’d like that--I hear that you have a cat too?”

You nodded. “Are you sure that you don’t need any help?”

“No no, you both go on, I’ll handle this.”

By each passing moment, this all started to feel a bit more like a playdate than an official meeting of one’s mother. Here you were, a grown woman, and you had gone over to someone’s house to play with their cats. Maybe you weren’t as much of a grown woman as you thought you were.

“Over here.” Minho guided you to the living room: it was a modest one with furniture that looked to be very old, with beautiful traditional pictures of landscapes with assorted baby photos hanging on the walls. Everywhere, there was little pieces of evidence of the residence of cats: cat toys, scratching pads, a couple cat carriers and the cat tree nearest the window. At the top tier of the structure, there was a white and orange cat lazing with a foot slung over the side.

“Doongie?” You carefully approached the furball to pet it’s tiny paw.

“That one is Soonie, I have two cats that look a bit similar. Doongie is probably somewhere strange. You never know cats. Mine really like hopping on top of the china cabinet; it scares my mother half to death”

“I can imagine.”

Soonie remained unbothered, little cat body peacefully sleeping.

“Over here is Dori, the youngest one.”

Dori was a bit striped, with a grey body and a white belly. The smaller cat was rolled up into a perfect cinnamon roll on the loveseat. The cat stirred hearing it’s name, and keened into Minho’s touch when he scratched its head. You copied the touch, and Dori granted you the same permission.

“You cats are so sweet...wanna trade?”

“I...think that I’m good with the cat’s I’ve got. But that is a tempting offer.”

Making a rather loud appearance was Doongie, who ambled into the room with a series of loud yowls and meows, looking up to both you and Minho with striking yellow eyes.

“Doongie!” You crouched down to give the cat scratches under it’s chin, making it purr slightly. “Did you miss me? I hope that you’ve been staying out of trouble.”

Minho’s gentle brown eyes observed your interactions with his cats, simply letting you play around with them as you wished. Every once and a while, you could catch his eyes following you with a contented little grin on his face.

There was something so domestic and comforting about the whole scene. Inside the townhouse that felt well loved and with the smell of a homecooked meal in the air, there was something so peaceful about it all that was a little foreign to you.

“Minho! Please come help me with the bowls!”

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Crickets chirped along the pathway and into the spring’s chilly nighttime air. Minho had offered to walk you home, even though you were just two houses down. Because of this, it seemed as if the two of you were walking in slow motion, taking one step after the other as slowly and carefully as you could. Absentmindedly, you both wanted just a little more time.

After spending the night being on your best behavior, you felt as if you could finally breathe. Granted, you had grandly spilled soup all over Minho’s mother, but this seemed to diffuse quickly once she had laughed raucously at the event. She was a sweet woman, with a kind soul, much like Minho. Her lightly wrinkled face shone like the sun and made you feel loved even without knowing her much.

In many ways, you wondered what it would be like having a mother as such. It was likely however, maybe you just weren’t supposed to know.

Minho cast his gaze up to the sprinkling of stars spread out over the vast sky: most of them invisible due to the closeness to the city.

“You know, I’m starting to really like living out here, in the suburbs I mean. Everything in the city was so fast and chaotic, it’s nice to sit back and let things be still for a while.”

“You don’t miss it?”

“Not as much as I did. The city...holds a lot of memories for me; some of them I’d rather forget. Being out here feels like a new start.”

The two of you stopped near the light coming from your porch. In the soft glow of yellow, coupled with the gentle navy blue tint of the night, Minho looked ethereal--perhaps even a little fairy-like.

You cursed out your writer brain for thinking of your little made up world at a time like this when you had this boy, real, in front of you.

“I had a nice time with you tonight.” Minho shoved his hands into his pants pockets with a cute little smirk. “I think my cats are a fan of you as well, so, that puts a good word in for you in my book.”

“Me too. Thank-thank you for inviting me.”

“Next time, we should do something different, I heard actually that there’s a meteor shower in a couple weeks.”

“Wait, next time?”

“Or, we could do something sooner if you’d like.”

“You want to do something else? With me?”

“Yes you, who else would I be talking about?” Minho capped his sentence with a little snicker.

“S-sorry, I just...don’t understand...why would you... I mean, I don’t do too much besides kinda hide in my house with my cat...there isn’t really a lot of things interesting about--”

Minho squatted down, sweeping something off of the sidewalk. It wasn’t until he had put it in your hair that you had realized he had taken one of the cherry blossoms from your tree to tuck it behind your ear. His head titled slightly as he admired the decoration, fingers lingering by the side of your cheek for a moment.

“I disagree.” He hushed, barely saying the words louder than a whisper. “Even though you you tent to get yourself into...situations--not that I mind anyway, you are special. Hell, and I haven’t even known you that long. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

Had it been socially acceptable, you would’ve kissed him right then and there.

If only it were that easy.

₍⸍⸌̣ʷ̣̫⸍̣⸌₎

Chapter 25

There Blaze was, standing, simple, cuts on his face and that little scar on his eyebrow twitching. The campfire illuminated his eyes with the flames, creating that brazen fire that he had gotten his name from.

Bomi knew him well. In fact, she thought she had known him better than most--a fact which she selfishly kept to herself. Blaze was everything she had known for the past year or so, and the time had interwoven their paths in ways that she had never expected. Before her was a person who knew her too, perhaps better than she knew herself.

Blaze’s callused hand rose to cup her cheek, thumb rubbing over her own battle scars.

“If you’ll not have me, please know Princess, you are the strongest warrior, bravest leader, and wisest friend that I have had the pleasure of knowing. I’ll stay by your side until I breathe my last breath.”

With a shaking hand, Bomi took Blaze’s hand resting on her cheek. She memorized the way that his skin felt on hers, making a million silent wishes that she knew would never come true.

“You and I, we both know that fate would have other plans for us...I’m sorry.”

Bomi turned from the warmth of the campfire, and the way that his eyes held hers.

She wished a million wishes, and he was nearly every one one of them.

128 notes · View notes

krreader · 4 years

Text

BTS scenario → dating an “average” girl.

pairing: bts x reader fandom: bts warnings: / genre: angst ; fluff word count: 1.6k+

a/n: let me start off by saying that I really don’t like to use the word average, because I think everyone is special in their own way. now, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted this to be angsty or not, but I decided to mix it up and throw a little bit of both in there, which I hope you enjoy :)

kim seokjin

“I don't think I'll be a good work-out-buddy, Jin,” you nervously looked around, “And besides, people are looking at me.”

“Hey,” he quickly grabbed your chin and made you look into his eyes, “You pay attention to nobody but me, okay? None of these people here matter, only you and I do. And you work out as much as you can and once it becomes too hard or you don't feel like it anymore, you'll stop.”

You had often complained to Jin about your body, but had been too afraid to go into a gym on your own. So he had offered to go with you to one of the private ones that a lot of idols often used and to help you with the exercising.

It was a good deal at first, but now that you were actually here, you began to realize that you knew jack-shit about working out and that you'd probably make a fool out of yourself.

However, the moment that you started, you forgot everything around you.

Jin made this day extremely fun and every time you 'messed up', your boyfriend turned it into a funny situation that had you laugh and not blush from embarrassment.

Others were probably judging you, but you didn't notice.

All you could see was this man in front of you, loving you unconditionally the way you were now, but wanting to help you on your journey to self-love in any way he could.

min yoongi

Yoongi had once been so worried about what would happen once the media would find out about you and him, especially because of your previous hatred for yourself.

But you've worked on those issues. You've worked hard to love yourself the way you were, to accept that you'd never have that flat stomach because – surprise – your organs had to find a place somewhere in your body. To accept that you'd forever have acne scarring, which now reminded you of the hard times and made you appreciate the current, good times.

So whenever there was yet another blog post of a jealous fan bashing one of the things that you used to hate about yourself, you just nodded to yourself and said: “They're probably going through their own struggles right now. One day, they will get over it.”

Jealousy was a bitch, you've experienced that first hand.

But as you've finally come to accept yourself, you've realized that you had no reason to be jealous of others anymore.

You were happy with yourself.

Yoongi leaned against the door frame and watched you put your phone down, then grab your cup of coffee and watch the rain pour outside.

And all he could think of was: “You're the most beautiful woman on this planet. Thank you for finally having realized that yourself.”

jung hoseok

Hoseok walked into the living room after having taken a shower and found you scrolling through your Instagram, liking pictures of several girls that he was sure you had never seen or met before.

All girls that looked a certain way. ‘Perfect’, as you used to call them.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to you and said: ��We talked about this. You don't need to look like this, you're pretty the way you are, you know?”

“I do,” you smiled at him, “But I still think they're pretty. And I know how important it is to tell someone they're beautiful. You never know what they’re struggling with about themselves at the moment.”

You've come a long way.

Two years ago, you would have looked at these pictures and beaten yourself up over it. You would have gone on a diet the next day, the hairdresser the day after and the dermatologists soon thereafter.

But now? Now you could look at these pictures and leave compliments under them that the original owner of the photo always liked and thanked you for, because as you said, you never knew what somebody was struggling with about their appearance at that time and something as simple as a compliment from a stranger could mean the world.

“I'm so proud of you,” Hoseok whispered and pulled you against him.

“Me too,” you grinned happily.

jung hoseok

Once upon a time you had thought that if you wanted to date Kim Namjoon, you had to be some sort of prodigy.

But, newsflash, you weren't.

And while you had been more than upset about this years ago and thought that you were not worthy of being with him, you had now come to accept that you were normal.

And normal was good.

Normal, was what Namjoon loved the most about you, after your kindness and your warmth that you had for the people you loved and cared for. He didn't need you to be special by playing some instrument perfectly, because you were already special enough for him for just being you.

And as you were lying in bed and he was running his fingers through your hair, he whispered: “I love you more than I can say.. you know that right?”

It surprised you, but you still smiled, “I do. I love you too. And..-” you pushed yourself up a little to look him in the eyes and chuckled, “I love me too.”

It was a little inside joke. Something that Namjoon made you say over and over again when you had troubles accepting yourself once again. And now, you could say that sentence and honestly mean it.

And man, he was so proud of that.

park jimin

It really wasn't easy being with him when he was this perfect specimen of humanity and you were – in your eyes – the worst it could offer.

“You look gorgeous,” Jimin smiled happily when you walked out of the changing room, but you weren't quite as happy with yourself.

“It doesn't fit properly.”

“Hm, I think it does,” Jimin got up and took a closer look at it, “Zipper is up, straps aren't too tight.. I think it's good!”

“No, I mean.. this,” you pointed at your belly, “I told you I can't wear a dress as tight as this, I don't have your stomach,” it came out a lot more spiteful than you intended for it to.

But he didn’t take it to heart, thankfully

“And thank god for that,” Jimin let out a laugh, then grabbed your chin and made you look at him, “My stomach reminds me of the nights in which I had to starve myself to look like people expect me to look. Your stomach reminds me of how healthy you are and how I don't have to worry about you.”

You looked into his eyes for a moment, then you let out a sigh, your shoulders dropping, “Sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up..-”

“Don't apologize. If anything, apologize to yourself for always being so hard on you and always finding an imperfection that isn't one,” he kissed your forehead, “You're so beautiful, angel,” he whispered, nearly making you cry.

kim taehyung

Taehyung could feel that there was something wrong today just from the way you texted him back. You didn't put any of your normally used emoji's after your texts, your answers were short and the amount of time it took you to even reply, was suspicious.

At first, he had thought that maybe something that he had done had upset you, but the more he thought about it, the more he came to the conclusion that that couldn't be. When re-reading your goodnight message from last night, everything was normal.

So it must be something else.

Once his break started, he decided that he'd spend it at your place and see what it was that was troubling you. He hadn't told you that he'd be coming, so you were looking at him, not in surprise, but shock.

“What are you doing here?!” you immediately turned around and scurried back into your apartment, leaving Taehyung to close the door behind himself with furrowed eyebrows.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just.. I don't have a good day today, okay?”

Your boyfriend placed the bag of take-away on the floor and then walked over to you, gently turning you around by your shoulder to look at you, only to see that issue seemed to be something so trivial, that it made him let out a heavy sigh.

“Really, (Y/N)?”

“It's so ugly. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I just.. popped them. And now I look even worse than before and I hate it!”

You've been struggling with your skin for a while, had often gone to dermatologists that Taehyung had recommended to you, but while it did get a little better, you didn't have the skin that he had. And that is what you wanted. A journey that would take longer than four months, however. And... well, you were impatient.

“How many times do I need to tell you that pimples are natural? That having acne is nothing to be ashamed about?”

“Easy for you to say, looking like your skin was made out of glass.”

“And you know how much I need to do for it. How many times I need to get treatments,” his hands slid down until he could hold yours, “You're still beautiful to me. Pimples won't change that. But popping them isn't good for your skin, it's only going to make it worse. You need to let it heal, as hard as it is.”

Again, this was easy for him to say and not so easy for you to do. You've had this conversation before and you were sure that you'd have it again and again.

But you were glad to hear these words. Because at that moment, it was what you needed to feel a little better.

jeon jeongguk

It wasn't hard to figure out that you never wanted to come to these dinners because you were uncomfortable around the other members' girlfriends. They were, what society would consider, 'the standard'. They were, what women were told to look like. They were, what people thought idols’ girlfriends should look like.

And every time you joined these dinners, you realized that you were none of these things.

You weren't the perfect woman, unlike the others.

Or so you believed.

“You're home early,” you stated as you closed the book in your hands, “Wasn't it fun?”

“It was,” Jeongguk nodded, taking off his shoes, before falling onto the couch and placing his head in your lap, smiling as you immediately began to brush your fingers through his hair, “But being here with you is better.”

He could spend his days trying to convince you that you were what he wanted, exactly the way you were now.

Or, he could simply show you.

And he opted for option number two.

#bts imagine #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bangtan reaction #bangtan boys #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop reactions #bangtan sonyeondan #reader #bangtan x reader #bangtan boys x reader #requests

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gasolineghuleh · 3 years

Text

To Join One’s Own

Commission for the lovely roxas-zen-frost!

Terzo mocking as a Catholic priest manages to convince one of the Sisters in the convent to come and join him in the confessional for a night of sinful passion.

18+ below. Mirrored on ao3 as always, lovelies.

You sit bolt upright in bed with a gasp as your heart pounds in your ears, blood rushing to your face to redden your cheeks. The cross clenched in your fist feels more like a mockery than a religious symbol as you realize the slickness that’s sticking your panties to you. Breathing deeply you remember the dream that caused you to waken so quickly, and the blood rushes somewhere else… A moment later finds you on your back once more with your hand between your legs. As soon as your finger slips past your slick entrance you cum, turning your head and biting the pillow between your gnashing teeth to stifle your moans, just in case one of your fellow Sisters is awake inside the convent. Your breathing calms and slows once more to match your heart just as embarrassment wells inside of you, your cheeks blushing bright red for another reason entirely.

Flinging an arm over your eyes, you lay for a moment to allow your heart rate to come back down as you wrestle with the embarrassment and dirty feeling in your gut. When you can stand it no longer, you stand up and dress quickly, grabbing your rosary from the hook byv the door and hurrying across the convent. Mercifully, the hallways were empty at this time of night (or was it early morning, now?) and you manage to make it to the chapel with no interruptions.

The chapel is lit will merrily crackling candles at the foot of the statue of Jesus, and you take comfort in their warm glow as you kneel in front of him, crossing yourself on reflex. The prayers come from rote memory and soothe you with the almost melodic lilt to the words, mumbled between your numb lips. You aren’t sure how long the priest has been standing beside you, but you jump in surprise when you open your eyes and see his shoes on the stone floor beside you.

“Father! I’m sorry, I know Sisters aren’t meant to be out at this time of night.” Your fingers fidget along the beads of the rosary in a nervous dance as you watch his face, waiting for some kind of reproach.

“Sister… Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” He turns and gives you a wink, his bright green eyes nearly glowing in the candle light. “Isn’t it odd, how sensual the carvings are?” When you tilt your head towards him in confusion he elaborates, one long and gloved finger stretching forward to trace a line along the clear cut pelvic bones of the carved Jesus. “He is meant to be alluring, although he is made in the image of God. Tell me, Sister, what kind of drea brought you here this evening?”

“Dream? I—” You cut yourself off as he extends a hand towards you, taking it gratefully and pulling yourself off of the hard floor. “I didn’t have any dreams.”

“Lying is unbecoming in a young woman,” he chides, winking to throw off any of the sting behind his words. “Nothing could pull a young nun from her bed except for a particularly effective dream, you know. It seems to me as though you could benefit from confession, si? I can keep a secret.” When he tilts his head towards you again in gentle persuasion, it’s almost a relief to give in.

“Yes, Father. Thank you.” You move towards the confessional, sitting quietly in the corner like a beast in repose. The oaken door creaks as you swing it open and take your seat on the proper side, waiting for the priest to do the same. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.” The words come from you quickly, but you stumble before your confession of the dream.

“Go on, Sister. He does not judge.” Something in the words strikes you as odd, but you forge forward. The grating is enough to conceal his face, but not enough to conceal his leg bouncing impatiently.

“I had a dream of the… amorous type. When I woke, I found that I was aroused.” You pause, swallowing hard. “I touched myself, and when I came, I was ashamed.”

“There is no need for shame when indulging in pleasure, Sister. Enjoyment is not a sin for sin’s sake. Is eating, then, also a sin? A slice of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream on top.... the sweetness of the cream hurts your teeth.” You wind your fingers through the grating, sliding closer on your seat as he speaks. “The curl of your tongue around the steel of the fork as the serpent curled around the tree… Are these things not meant to invoke pleasure?”

“Enjoyment isn’t a sin but—”

“Do you think the other members of the cloth do not also partake in the sins of the flesh? Do you think their faith prevents them from the feelings that humans crave?”

“Their? Not our?” The priest falls silent for a moment— a heady thing, full of unsaid words. When he speaks again his voice has fallen deeper, and the sound only serves to ignite your previously tamped down arousal.

“You pray so hard on bloody knees, Sister, and what has it gotten you? Join me in sin. Join me, and see what it can be like when you forget your standing in this world.” You give an only slightly hesitant sound of agreement and the cool stillness of the box is permeated by the sound of iron on iron as the grating in the partition slides shut. The door in the center of the confessional booth opens, swinging outward towards you.

“Father, are you sure?” you ask even as you duck through the small doorway into his side of the booth. When he shuts it heavily behind you, you whirl around to face him, a sharp gasp leaving you. In the dim lighting that’s managed to eke its way into the confessional you can see that his eyes aren’t matching at all— in fact, one of them is a bright and almost glowing white, piercing in its sudden lust.

“You may call me Papa. And I am sure.” He holds out a gloved hand to you and you take it, stepping closer into his space as his thighs part to accept you. The opposite hand trails up your side to cup your cheek, tilting your chin down towards him. “Say yes.”

A thousand thoughts run through your mind at his implication. The pleasure of the dream that had awoken you so quickly earlier in the evening, the feeling of your slickness between your thighs even now, and the feeling of your hand there, coaxing sounds that you so desperately wanted him to hear. All of the pleasure he offered, all of the sin and all of the experiences. All you had to do was just say—

“Yes.” Bolstered by your consent, Papa’s hand wraps around your waist as he tugs you down to sit on his lap, spreading your legs over one of his thighs and tucking you close against him. His lips press against the soft skin behind your ear as his other hand goes to your head dress, unpinning it with a slow ease that gives you plenty of time to deny him. When you don’t, the cloth covering flutters to the floor of the confessional, followed by the pins keeping your hair tied up.

“Tell me, Sister, what do you think about when you’re alone?” he asks, his lips moving in hot trails along your neck as his other hand caresses your side. The contact feels good, and you can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you as you lean back into his touch.

“I think about the possibility of a partner… of the possibility of having something that could fulfill me more than my own hand.” Papa’s grip on your side grows tighter as he urges your hips to move, sliding across his thigh in a sensual push and pull that already has you trembling.

“Do you want me to fulfill you?” His voice has dropped to a gravelly tone and a soft moan threatens to slide past your lips at the sound. When you nod, his other hand falls to your other side as he grips you tighter, helping you find a rhythm to your rolling. A slight jostle and bounce of his leg presses his thigh against your clit and this time, you do moan, a soft and airy sound, easily mistaken for the hushed movement of cloth against cloth.

It doesn’t escape the notice of Papa, however, and he answers with a moan in kind, his teeth grazing against your pulse point as his own hips begin to move in tandem with yours. You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your ass, hot and hard, and the sudden urge to feel it is almost overwhelming. As you open your mouth to speak, however, all that leaves you is another moan as one of his hands moves upward to cup at your breast.

“You feel me? How hard you make me? Per favore sorella, let me show you pleasure. Let me take you away. Let me love you,” he asks against the shell of your ear, his lips grazing it and giving you goosebumps.

“Can I see it?” you’re finally able to get out. He pauses his movements, dropping his forehead onto your shoulder with a groan and an abortive thrust of his hips at your words. You continue your motions against his thigh, your cunt clenching at the pleasure when you drag yourself across him in just the right way.

“I have been longing to hear those words, sorella,” he admits, his hands falling away from you. There’s a moment of slight confusion for you before you catch on, turning with ease and dropping to your knees in front of him, as if in prayer. But the curtain of your hair falling around your face as you lean forward leaves no doubt as to where you are and what you’re doing.

Papa watches you for a moment, soaking in the image of you on your knees for him before moving his hands to his own lap. He parts the sides of the fake priest robes, revealing a pair of black suit pants. The button and zipper are dealt with quickly enough, and his ungloved hand reaches through his pants to draw himself out. His cock is hard and flushed at the tip, longer and thinner than you thought when it was pressed against you. As you watch he strokes himself once before gripping himself at the base and tilting it towards you in invitation.

“Can I taste it, too?” Papa bites his lower lip as his head drops back at the thought, his hips rising slightly off of the seat as he shifts closer to you. When he nods you shuffle closer on your knees, your rosary bumping against Papa’s knee as you do so. He gives a wry chuckle at the sight, his hand coming up to card through your hair, guiding you to his cock gently. The first press of your tongue against his hot flesh is electric, and the taste bursts across your tongue with a salty ease as you take him into your mouth.

He lets you explore him slowly, giving you gentle encouragement when you find something he likes in particular. Your tongue courses along the thick vein on the underside of his cock and you can feel it pulsing in time with his heartbeat. When pre-cum beads at the tip, you take it into your mouth almost gratefully, humming at the new sensations and tastes. It doesn’t take long for your jaw to begin to ache, though, and Papa seems to know your limitations as he pulls you off of him gently.

“My turn to show you, si? Let Papa return the favour.” You nod and get to your feet, gasping in surprise when Papa stands swiftly and winds his arms around you. He presses his forearm against the small of your back, tucking you close to him as his lips find yours. Papa groans as he tastes himself on your tongue, his wettened cock pressing against the dark material of your habit. His other hand moves swiftly to your zipper and glides it down, helping the thick cloth down your body until it puddles on the floor. Your bra is dealt with almost as quickly, his eyes running over you appreciatively.

“Papa, I’ve never—”

“Shh, sorella. I know this. I’ll be gentle, mm?” Papa turns the two of you in a small side-stepping dance until your legs press against the priest’s chair and you take your seat. He falls to his knees in front of you, his hands working at your thighs until you’re comfortable enough to spread yourself for him. His lips press themselves in a hot path along your trembling skin, getting closer and closer to the apex of your thighs.

With a sigh, you open your legs enough for his tongue to sweep across the crotch of your panties and he groans when he makes contact, the sound vibrating through you. Papa’s hands move to the hem of your panties as he pulls them down, grinning up at you when they cling to your wetness for a moment. Once they’ve joined your habit on the floor, Papa puts a hand under your knee, hefting you leg onto his shoulder before closing his eyes and running his tongue along the soft skin to either side of your heat. When he finally makes contact with your folds, ending with a pointed tongue on your clit, you groan, your legs trembling violently as you grip the edge of the seat in a white-knuckled grasp.

“Oh, my God,” you breathe out, hissing between your teeth in quiet pleasure as he drives his tongue into you. Throughout the ordeal, his eyes stay on yours, watching you carefully for any sign of discomfort or a particular aversion to a movement. When nothing comes, he dedicates himself to the task even further, burying himself in you with gusto and moaning as he coats his chin in your slick. Finally, as the tension is beginning to rise in your gut he pulls away from you, wiping his mouth on his bicep as he looks up at you, his eyes blown with arousal as his chest heaves.

“I need you, bella… Let me show you what it feels like to be full. Take me inside of you.” This time, there’s no hesitation when you agree, standing swiftly and winding your arms around his neck. You kiss him as he had you, tasting yourself on his tongue. Once more, he turns the two of you around, sitting down on the bench and pulling you backwards onto his lap, your back pressed to his chest.

“You’ll go slow?” you ask, suddenly timid now that the moment has arrived. His cock throbs against your ass as his hips shift slightly, hands tight on your legs as he positions the two of you properly.

“As slow as you need, mia cara.” Papa’s lips press against the back of your neck and down your shoulder, hot and reassuring. At his gentle urging, you raise off of his lap just enough until the head of his cock slots against your entrance. You can feel it slip inside of you and you gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth to control your breathing. Instantly, Papa’s hands run down your spine and up your arm, comforting and grounding you. “As you need, Sister, as you need.”

“I just… sit?” you ask, feeling slightly foolish. You can feel him nod against you, his lips brushing along your shoulder as he peppers you with love bites and kisses. Biting your lower lip, you slowly sink down onto his cock, one of your hands flying outward to slam against the wall of the confessional as a sort of anchor. Still, you don’t stop, taking him inside of you in a slow drag that burns as much as it ignites a fire inside of you. Finally, you find yourself fully seated in his lap once more, his cock buried inside of you fully.

“See? As simple as that… And now, I simply…” Papa trails off, rolling his hips underneath you and pumping his cock once. You gasp, a shuddering and heavy sound, leaning back into him and bringing up one leg onto the bench. “Si, you are getting it. Such a good girl, mm?” His praise only adds to the fire in your gut, and you allow him to take control for the moment, sliding his cock in and out of you shallowly, the sound of your slickness coating him loud in the small confessional.

Before long he’s found a rhythm, holding you up slightly with one hand as he pumps into you from behind. He grunts when you join him, starting to bounce yourself off of him in counter thrusts to him, taking him deeper and faster. Papa pulls you close to him roughly, turning your head with his own and crashing your lips together, a tangle of tongue and teeth and moans and gasps. You almost complain and whine in protest when he stops, stilling his own movements and then yours.

“Wait, Sister… I want to know if… if this is what you like,” he says against your lips, breathing heavily. One arm snakes around to hold your leg while the other travels across your hips to rest above his cock, still buried inside of you. With the motion stopped, you can feel him pulsing softly inside of you as he flexes his cock. His fingers push and press against your clit, finding a sweeping rhythm that has you groaning and twitching in his arms.

“Yes, yes, I— Just like that!” His lips return to your shoulder, biting and kissing as he speeds his hand, swiping his fingers across your clit and pulsing his cock inside of you until you tip of the edge of orgasm. When you cum, it’s with a flood of gushing liquid, one hand clapped over your mouth to keep yourself quiet as you tremble in Papa’s strong arms, looking down the mess.

“Oh fuck,” Papa groans into your neck, both arms wrapping around you as he slams himself upward into you twice, finally stilling once more as he cums hard, filling you with pulse after pulse of his cock. “Never met a Sister who could… squirt on the first round,” he pants against you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths as he comes down from his own climax. The two of you take a moment to breathe and sit in each other’s arms, your heart pounding against your rib cage.

“What now?” you finally venture. The thought suddenly occurs to you that you’ve broken your vows… You can’t stay here. Before you can panic, Papa turns your head towards his and presses a soft kiss to your cheek bone.

“You come home, sorella.”

#lorraine writes #fics #ghost #the band ghost #ghost bc #papa emeritus #papa emeritus iii #terzo

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closedafterdark · 3 years

Note

can u pls do a library smut with a fromis member? jisun would be nice. thank you! ❤️

It’s a normal Monday evening in the university library.

A page is being turned as you eyes scroll through the various words and numbers on it, trying to process the newly presented information. You are currently studying for a biology exam the next morning and in your own particular way, you’re cramming an entire month’s worth of information in one night. Or, at least trying to.

As you scan through the words and images depicted, pretending you have an idea of what’s going on, you are distracted by the sound of a shoe and pencil being tapped repeatedly across from you. Raising your eyes up while your head is pointed to the book, you find the culprit responsible for the noise.

They see you’ve noticed them, causing them to smile as their eyes form crescents.

“Babe, I’m bored.”

“I can see that, Gyuri. You’ve been on the same page for an hour now and you’re tapping a pencil that has zero lead in it.”

Gyuri huffs her cheeks, giving you the cutest pout you’ve ever seen. She was beautiful in every sense of the word - dark brown hair that was perfectly styled with not a trace of split ends, a smile so contagious its only competition would be her eye smile that has melted your heart far too many times, and a pair of long, creamy legs that complemented her model-like proportions. She was your first serious girlfriend, and someone many doubted would be able to make you settle down. You reached in your bag and pulled out your aluminum water bottle, satisfied at how cold it feels due to you adding ice cubes into it. As the liquid quenches your parched throat, you nearly spit it out at Gyuri’s next words.

“Babe, I’m not wearing any underwear.”

You coughed, doing your best to stifle its volume even though you and Gyuri are the only people within your range of vision. Jang Gyuri was a shy, reserved person when in public. Behind closed doors however, she was comfortable in her skin and certainly not shy about how she looked in front of you.

“You threw it into my laundry basket even though you never even wore them.”

“So your roommates know you have a girlfriend.” Gyuri simply replied, taking your water bottle before tilting her head to accept the liquid without it touching her lips. This of course meant an obscene amount came at once, causing it to spill from her mouth and chin onto her shirt below. As the white button up shirt started to become translucent, you noticed it clinging to her milky colored skin. Two pink circles began to form as well, letting you form a knowing conclusion.

“And apparently you’re not wearing a bra either.”

“You always take them off me anyways. What’s the point of wearing one?”

“We’re in public, Gyuri. And even though it’s not windy, I doubt you want people to be staring at them when it is.”

“I like my body. Just like how you like mine. Especially when I don’t have any clothes on.”

“I thought we were here to study?” you said, sighing. “You were the one who wanted to come here anyways.”

“I said I wanted to come here, not actually study.” Gyuri whined, emphasizing the word she enjoyed saying in the bedroom.

“Babe, I actually do want to study. I have a biology midterm that I have to pass in order to not feel like I only show up to lecture and not touch the material when I get home. Especially since you sit on my textbook every time I try to.”

“It’s not my fault I’m more interesting to study than biology.”

“You are, but I want to pass. I’ll study your body tonight when we get back to the dorms.”

“We are studying though, babe.” Gyuri replied. “We’re going to study each other’s reproductive systems right now.”

You sighed when you felt the sole of Gyuri’s foot rub your crotch. Every time you said no to her she never accepted, equipping herself with various methods in order to seduce you into having sex with her. The fact that it was a public place turned her on even more - the two of you nearly getting caught during a date in the movie theater when Gyuri let out an exasperated moan when your head was in between her thighs.

“Come with me.” Gyuri said, quickly packing hers and your things before taking you by the hand to a secluded part of the library. It was a large building containing three floors, most students use the upper two floors. The basement level had staff in it sporadically, rarely ever around since there was no real need to be. Continuing to lead you by the hand, you accidentally bumped into her when she stopped and found a pair of sofa chairs in between bookshelves. You thought it was strange how there could be two chairs in pristine condition in a floor of the library no one ever uses.

Gyuri places both of your bags on one of the chairs before pushing you against a bookshelf. Smiling, she presses her body against yours before roughly kissing you. Normally you would have been afraid of getting caught, but since this is the first floor you have no problems focusing on Gyuri’s tender lips. She quickly unbuttons your shirt before removing it off you and tossing it towards your bags. With your chest and upper body now exposed, Gyuri inserts her hand down your pants. She grins in between kisses as she feels your shaft strengthening in her soft hand. Her free hand is used to unbutton them, before swiftly lowering the zipper on your pants. You moan as you feel her rub her thumb across the slit of your head, spreading the dribbling liquid all across you.

“You said it’s a biology test, right? Why don’t we study what happens when friction is applied to a sensitive specimen.”

Quickly sinking to her knees, Gyuri’s beautiful smile has become a hauntingly terrifying grin as she licks her lips and keeps her gaze remaining on yours. She licks your shaft up and down, her soft pink tongue lubricating your cock with her warm saliva as she strokes you to full erection. The pleasure shoots through your body like a sharp needle.

No matter how many times she has done it, nothing could ever prepare you for when Gyuri takes you inside her mouth. You immediately react by closing your eyes shut and tilt your head back as her warm, wet cavern relaxes your tense body. Taking every ounce of willpower you had, your eyes opened to look down and be greeted by Gyuri bobbing her head up and down, her beautiful brown hair that contained blonde highlights taking every inch of your shaft. Parts of your cock remain visible for only a second as she takes you in and out, her lips forming an airtight seal as her tongue brushes against your underside and earns her a series of satisfied moans.

Gyuri was cute, even more than any other person you’ve met in university. But very few possessed a cute face who would be able to change your perception of them while they performed a lewd act. Her round, soft features made her beauty unreal; and every day you silently prayed and thanked the heavens that they allowed you to exist in this lifetime with such a divine woman. The mere act of a woman’s lips wrapped around a penis was truly sinful - but the fact that Gyuri, your girlfriend was the one doing it turned you on to no end.

You watched as your cock pumped in and out of her small mouth. Your hands quickly reached for the sides of her head and firmly rested on it as she continued to pleasure you. You’ve had your fair share of blowjobs, many were soft and considerate of your feelings, or given by those who were inexperienced. But Gyuri’s were a league of their own from the very first one she gave you. She knew the purpose of the action she was performing on you, to give you as much pleasure as possible in a quick manner. You and Gyuri shared tender, intimate moments during sex but the ones you loved the most was when she wanted dirty pleasure and pure lust for the both of you.

“Babe… fuck, that feels so good.”

Gyuri releases your cock from her mouth with a loud pop. You were now drenched in her saliva, copious amounts leaking out of her mouth onto her chin as she remains connected to you by a string of spit.

“Fuck my face. Now.” Gyuri hissed, her tone sharp. Her eyes formed crescents, but lacked the same glint they possessed whenever she smiled. She had an angry, determined look on her face as if she wanted you to do so without her having to say it out loud. Returning her mouth back onto your cock, your hands dug into her head slightly. There was no need to tell you twice.

Wanting to give her soft strokes at first to get used to you, she shot you an angry look as you rocked your hips back and forth. You drove your cock in and out of her needy mouth, her wet lips continuing to form a tight hold on you as you fucked her mouth. Her hands held onto your hips to keep herself steady as you thrusted into her wet cavern. She felt your balls slapping against her chin each time, causing her to release a stifled laugh that vibrated against the underside of your cock.

You loved getting head just as much as Gyuri loved giving it to you. She loved the power she held whenever she did so, your erotic moans of pleasure always made her wet. The first time she asked you to facefuck her you were nervous, afraid you were hurting her. But after she admitted it turned her on, you wanted to do it even more to train her throat and your stamina.

“Your mouth feels so good, babe.”

“Mmmph…” Gyuri moaned. She grew accustomed to talking dirty the longer you two continued to date, but there was nothing more intoxicating than her struggle to speak due to her mouth being stuffed full with your cock.

You almost forget you were still in a public place - the library. That at any time, someone for whatever reason, could drop by and see your girlfriend on her knees as you liberally fuck her face. The two of you jump slightly in response when you hear something fall, only to discover it was just your shirt now on the ground.

Gyuri takes you stopping as a cue to release your cock from her mouth, the action creating a loud suction popping sound as saliva begins to drip from it onto the ground. Gyuri giggles, her lips curving into her all too familiar sweet smile as she grips your cock and nuzzles it against her cheek.

You smiled back in response. Despite the sinful act you two were committing in public, you were happy Gyuri was enjoying your company as much as you enjoyed hers. She continues stroking your cock as she gets on her feet and is greeted by a deep and passionate kiss from you.

“I want to get fucked now.” Gyuri whispers softly into your ear. As she smiles and turns around, you watch her slide her skirt onto the floor. You squeeze her butt, smacking it softly after doing so. Gyuri lets out a soft moan, turning around as she bites her lower lip at you.

You figured it was time to let off some steam, especially since Gyuri’s hormones prevented you from studying. You grabbed onto her butt once more before pushing her against a bookshelf. She tilts her head behind her as you give her another deep kiss. The both of you moan as your cock brushes against her lips.

You secretly wished Gyuri wore her black thong as it was your favorite. And although she possessed dozens of the exact same color and style, the one she threw in the laundry basket was special as it was the one she wore the very first time you two decided to be intimate. Your cock rubs the underside of her lips once more, her glistening juices coating you each time you pass it.

“Babe, I want to be fucked. Fuck me already.” Gyuri whined, her voice increasing in volume and frustration. Your hands were currently on her buttcheeks so she decides to take matters into her own hand as she strokes your cock before aligning it against herself. When the few seconds that feel like minutes pass, you are greeted by your shaft finally penetrating her hot, wet pussy. Gyuri was drenched, from being horny in the upper level of the library to the facefuck you just gave her that your cock slides easily into her body.

She gasps loudly, one that you were scared could be heard from the second floor. Any sentiments you had on the matter were not shared by her as she squeezes you tightly with her arms as her pussy wraps itself on your cock. There was no one, not even the dean of the university who could stop you from fucking your girlfriend in this very moment.

You begin by giving Gyuri a series of short, rapid thrusts. While you wanted to start out rough right away, you missed being on a bed as you had to support her. Her body is pressed against the bookshelf, grabbing onto the edges of it as you fucked her.

“Babe, you’re so big… holy fuck.” Gyuri said softly. You expected her to be loud like how she normally is in the bedroom, but apparently even she knows to keep her voice down in public.

You slapped her ass softly while continuing to fuck her needy, tight pussy. It squeezes your cock with each thrust, you were afraid it would trap you inside her forever. Her juices quickly flowed out, coating your shaft thoroughly as it began to seep out and stain both of your thighs.

Wishing there was a mirror on the bookshelf so you could watch Gyuri’s face as you fucked her, her body squirmed with each thrust as her erotic and lust filled moans filled both of your ears.

“Harder, babe… fuck me harder.” she said in a demanding tone. You squeezed her ass harder as her body continued to be pressed against the bookshelf, the books shaking as you fucked her at a rapid pace.

Neither of you cared anymore as the increasingly loud smacks of your wet flesh against hers along with Gyuri’s stead streams of moans and pleas to fuck her filled the room. Despite her efforts to stifle them, she knew it was useless from the pleasure you were giving her. All that mattered to you both was the pleasure building up in your bodies. You felt her tight pussy begin to pulsate against your cock, letting you know she was getting close.

“Oh… fuck!” Gyuri screamed as she suddenly cums. She didn’t expect to have an orgasm so soon as you continued to fuck her during it. Her body shakes violently while the increasing shocks of pleasure are met with your cock repeatedly pounding her. Gyuri knew you loved her orgasms - the way she was a shaking, quivering mess when reaching her euphoric high and how she is reduced to a puddle of hot flesh and a never ending release of body fluids.

“B-Babe… I’m… gonna cum…” you say as you continued fucking her. You were exhausted, but wanting to pay her back for teasing you while you wanted to study. Her juices flooded her cock, as her suffocatingly tight pussy kept a firm vicegrip on you.

“Cum inside me, babe… you better not pull out.” she moaned in between your thrusts.

“You’re… a bad girl aren’t you? You’re gonna walk out of the library with my cum dripping out of you.”

“Oh fuck… yes baby! I want to… feel you inside me… feel your hot cum in me… leaking onto my thighs… Fuck!”

Her filthy words were such a juxtaposition to her cute, innocent mouth. Many knew Gyuri as a shy, loving person who never cursed and always had a smile on her face. What they didn’t know was how she became unleashed in the bedroom, especially by you. And while Gyuri has sat in lectures filled up with your cum, she has never done so after the two of you have had sex in a public place. The mental image of people passing by and wondering why your girlfriend was a sweaty mess as something begins to leak onto her legs turns you on to fuck her even harder.

You push yourself as deep as you could go inside her, her ass smacking against you with each thrust as you finally cum inside Gyuri. Her pussy instantly tightens against your cock as you feel your shaft throb, releasing hot, thick semen all over the walls of her pussy. Gyuri lets out a loud, satisfied moan as she feels herself filled with your cum and her juices mixing together. Your cock head pulses as it continues to pump her body even more.

The two of you were content to be connected together, your hands on Gyuri’s ass as her arms reached for your back and pressed you against her. She feels your grasp on her ass weakening and your cock no longer throbbing inside her as she releases you from her body inch by inch. Doing so causes a large amount of cum to flow out of her pussy, coating her thighs in a sticky mess.

“Baby… that was so hot.” Gyuri said, laughing in satisfaction. The two of you were unable to control the wide smiles on your faces as you two realize you just fucked in the university library.

“That was the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.” you said, panting heavily. “That’s not to say you’re bad at making me cum, but holy fuck…”

“No, I feel the same way… it’s like we’ve never fucked that intensely before.”

You wrapped your arms around Gyuri’s waist and gave her a deep, loving kiss. She wraps her arms around your neck as you two reaffirm your love for each other. The moment you two parted for air, you pressed your foreheads together and smiled. Gyuri turns around to get her clothes but not before laughing as you grab her ass.

“Babe!” she playfully whined. “We need to get dressed and get out of here.”

The two of you dressed in silence, putting your backpacks on as you fixed each other’s appearance. You gave each other another tender kiss.

“My place or yours?” Gyuri asked before the two of you headed for the stairs to leave the library.

#asks #fromis 9 #jang gyuri

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scandeniall · 4 years

Text

love in argentina

pairing: oikawa x reader

summary/warnings: you went to study abroad in argentina, he went there to play volleyball. you meet and your love story starts in argentina./ um yeah a ton of spoilers including 402. oh and just implied sex for 2 seconds

wc: 3.2k

notes: in honor of both oikawa’s birthday and the manga officially being over. its been a ride and i’m glad hes getting the ending he truly deserves.

You're not sure when it happened. Growing up, you never really thought too much about love. You didn’t live in this fantasy that one day you’d get your happily ever after with your prince. You just lived as usual, focusing on your own dreams and goals. Being present and if love happened then it happened.

Oikawa isn’t quite sure when it happened. Growing up it had been a battle between volleyball and his own insecurities as he was determined to be the best. Sure he dated around, but it never amounted to much. There were so many people in the world to prove wrong and love had been pushed off the agenda.

But somehow it happened. Love had found its way into both of your lives and you found it within one another. It came without warning and despite every logical thought in your brains to run you didn’t. Now as you look at your fiance enter the arena your heart is filled with joy. You got your happily ever after all thanks to your last minute decision to study abroad in Argentina.

----

Another clap of thunder caused another groan to rip through your throat. Looking around your vision was minimal due to the downpour. The occasional shiver ran through your spine whenever the wind would pick up. The covering of the protruding building could only do so much, afterall. You eyed the directions on your phone for the nth time and still came up useless. When you decided to study in Argentina you looked at the frequency of rain, pleased at its limited occurrence. It was just your luck that your first weekend there you’d gotten caught.

A hoard of footsteps pounding against the rain soaked pavement caused you to look up from the device, and before you knew it a group of 5 men stood under the buildings canopy out of breath, soaking wet and laughing. Out of instinct you found yourself moving away from the group of strangers as you listened to them talk and laugh. You heard one of them mention the next nearest building they could run over to get towards their destination.

You eyed the phone again trying to make sense of the tiny map when three of them had run off. Right before the remaining ones could go you found yourself speaking up. Either be lost in San Juan for who knows how long or take your chance asking strangers for help. “Excuse me, could you guys point me in the direction of the university. I’m lost and I really need to get back to campus.”

The words came out rushed and you apologized for disturbing their day when the brunette in the group just laughed. “It's no problem. I’m Tōru. Tōru Oikawa.”

That was how you met. He’d offered to show you the way back, claiming that he knew what it was like to be new and lost in the city. He’d waved his teammate off, before telling you to keep up. In between running from building covering to building you found out he was a player on the club team originally from Japan.

“So you went across the world for volleyball? That's kind of cool.” You huffed out as the two of you ran under another canopy. After each one you'd allow yourselves to stop for a moment to not only catch your breath but to chat. “You went across the world to study.” “Yeah, but I’m only here for a semester. It seems you plan on staying. Not nearly as cool.”

Once the two of you arrived at the campus you offered to let him come in and dry off for a bit. “It's the least I could do.” You acknowledged that he didn’t have to show me all the way here and that surely he had better things to do. After a reluctant agreement the two of you found yourselves just talking. Oikawa had given you several food recommendations even ordering the “best empanadas ever” to your place. You two just seemed to have clicked. There was a sense of familiarity just like talking to an old friend that was instant.

“I have to get going. But it was great to meet you.” As the two of you said goodbye you contemplated for a moment about to offer your own number when he does the same. “In case you get lost again,” he insisted, handing you his phone with a laugh. “My first friend in Argentina,” you joke back. After thanking him again he bids you farewell with a light smile. “I’ll see you around.”

And the two of you saw each other again and again. In between your classes and his practices the two of you found yourselves texting quite often. In between teaching eachother new phrases in Spanish, you shared food recommendations, stories of your own childhoods within your respective countries and went on several adventures.

“You know, I haven't actually been here,” Oikawa hummed out from beside you. You had an assignment that required you to go to the Museo Provincial de Bellas Artes Franklin Rawson, the fine arts museum. It’d been nearly two months since you met Oikawa and when you'd asked him if he knew where it was located. Having no clue, he just decided to tag along with you. “Is that why you got us lost like 5 times on the way here,” you questioned before walking ahead to the next exhibit. “Hey!”

“Apparently there are 945 pieces here,” Oikawa read off as the two weaved throughout the other visitors, who were likely tourists. “Oh really? That's a lot,” you’d said mindlessly searching for a less crowded place to stand. You were vaguely aware of the hand resting on your upper back, his attempt at not allowing you two to become separated while also not pushing too far. You shot him a kind smile as he opened the door to the next exhibit.

Throughout the museum the two of you took pictures with your favorite works, a few selfies here and there that Oikawa forced you to send to him before you’d go home and forget. He’d invited you to his next game, one you gladly accepted. You’d seen him play only twice before and were utterly mesmerized by his poise, control, and how he seemed to command the court. After the two of you left he insisted the two of you go out for a few drinks. It was a Saturday night afterall.

You never quite made it to a bar. The two of you found yourselves just sitting on a bench downtown sipping your local drinks and just talking. “I love coming out at night, it's always so pretty,” you noted before taking another sip of your drink. The athlete only nodded in agreement. You didn’t know it then but that was the first time he’d wanted to kiss you.

From the constant chatter of people walking he’d tuned in soleyl on your voice. The way the mixture of street and shop lights illuminated your face caught him off guard. However he pushed that feeling away just to enjoy the present. Eventually you’d go back home and he’d be wherever. Still playing and still working towards his goals. “Hey, are you ok?”

He was immediately pulled out of his thoughts, sending you a genuine smile. “Yeah, just a bit sore.” He noticed the way you frowned and immediately regretted using that lie. Especially once you questioned him about his knee, a fact he’d let slip randomly one night over a late night text session. “I’m fine, besides the club would pull me so fast if I slipped into those habits again.” He’d also told you about how his friend would always have to drag him out of late night gym sessions. “Iwa gave me the nastiest bruise one time because I was in too late. It was an accident though, he was kinda shocked at just how hard the ball hit me too,” he laughed when he told you the memory. Then proceeded how he got to guilt trip his friend everyday until it healed. You only nodded but not before scolding him that somehow you’d go all the way to California to bring his friend back to kick his ass if needed.

-----

“Told you it would be worth it.” The scold you had ready for Oikawa didn't make its way out as your mouth dropped. The mountains completely took your breath away. When you’d first agreed to let Oikawa take you out to see nature you didn’t anticipate the lowered temperatures nor the annoying hiking trails. When you’d seen the first steep path you looked at him in complete disbelief. “You're not serious right now. I don’t even have on the right shoes Tōru,” you complained eying the worn sneakers with very little traction. “It’ll be fine, I’ll help you. The view is worth it.” With that you reached for his outstretched hand and went with it.

“It's beautiful up here,” you said slowly taking in the view. “El Leoncito. Blanco took me here the first month I got to Argentina. It was a rough week and he said I needed to get away. Camp out for a weekend and regain my focus.” You felt yourself nodding along as he spoke. “I remember how much you complained about your last test grades and figured you could use the break too.”

You’d known Oikawa for four months now. Your first semester in Argentina was coming to an end soon, and suddenly you were glad you didn’t let homesickness take over and decided to stay for the academic year. That gave you another few months with who turned out to be your dearest friend in the country. “Thank you,” you replied softly. While he had been looking at the view you managed to sneak a few looks at his profile. He didn’t know it then but that was the first time you’d wanted to kiss him.

The nights cooled down more than you could have imagined and you found yourself shaking despite the campfire around you. You mentally cursed Oikawa again for not informing you to be better prepared. The sound of a zipper shifted your attention as he emerged from the tent the two of you had set up earlier. “Looking a little cold over there,” he teased sitting next to you. “You suck.”

His laugh filled the air as a sudden warmth came over you. You look over to see he’d placed a pare blanket over you. You were filled with the urge to kiss him for the second time that night. “I’m not such a shitty guy now am I?” You only shook your head in amusement. “Yeah, I guess not.”

The months came and went. The two of you grew closer as the time for you to go home neared. Neither of you remember quite when it happened. It had been spring break for you and you had been hanging around Oikawa’s place for the most part. Even while he wasn’t there, the two of you had become that comfortable in less than a year. One night he came back unusually agitated and touchy, and you found yourself walking on eggshells until he just blurted out his feelings. “I fucking like you. More than a friend and it's annoying because I kept getting distracted tonight because one of the guys pointed out that you’d be going home soon.”

Your eyes widened as you watched him down his first shot of the night. A drink he’d insisted he needed after the night he had. After you hadn’t said anything for a few moments it seemed like his words dawned on him and his eyes widened. Before he could apologize you’d crossed the short space from his couch to the kitchen to press your lips against his.

“It's annoying, but I like you too.”

After that the two of you essentially began dating. You’d never officially declared a title but it was clear as day that you were together. When the year ended you decided to stay in Argentina at least for the summer, moving in with him for the time. In doing so the two of you put off the impending goodbye for at least 3 months.

That summer had flown by before either of you knew it. In between having more time to watch him play and your Argentinian adventures, they were the best months of your night. You’d spend many nights laughing and making out on the side of bar buildings on nights out. When time permitted, taking random day trips outside of San Juan and exploring together. You’d accumulated enough pictures together to fill out an entire photo album in that time alone.

One of your favorite memories came after you’d gotten home from said day trip. During which you guys brought three different jars of dulce de leche from different shops. You two had decided to try your hand at determining which shop had the best by putting them in various deserts.

“Wait we have to try them plain first,” you exclaimed the second the two of you had made it back. Taking the bag you made your way to the kitchen pulling out the jars. “The one I picked is going to be the best,” Oikawa assured, taking a spoon from you. “What if we fed each other and I took pictures to send to Iwa to remind him that he’s single.” You laughed before responding. “Oh please, he’s kinda hot. I doubt he's that lonely.”

“(Y/N) you can’t call him hot. I’m supposed to be the hot one,” he jokingly complained, arms coming to lock around your waist. Leaning your lips towards his, you mumbled with a lazy smile. “You are the hottest. But you’re going down, Grand King.” You pulled away laughing as his distressed look at your use of the dumb nickname. “I should've never told you about that.”

“Too late now,” you hummed opening the jars to set them out. “You wanted to make your best friend jealous right,” you questioned as he made no move toward the treat. You smiled at the sparkle in his eyes. “Hell yes.”

After you two couldn’t come to a consensus about whose pick was the best you two stared at the ingredients you'd also purchased to use the dulce de leche with. “Now what are we going to make,” he mused, tossing his arm around your shoulder. “Lets ask the internet.” You felt his lips press against your cheek before he agreed.

By the end of the night you’d managed to make a successful pastry, some random cake where you had to substitute a few ingredients and hope for the best, and a sorry excuse for ice cream. “I told you this was a bad idea,” you laughed as you tried to keep mixing the failure. “It’s not thickening up at all.” You moved aside as your boyfriend took the bowl from you, muttering about letting the athlete stir before adding on. “Thick like me?”

“It's as flat as you,” you deadpan.

“It’s a liquid!”

-----

“Hey (Y/N). Are we going to make this work. You know when you go back home.” He’d asked you one night as you cuddled on the couch. Your time together was coming to an end and you were leaving in two days. It’d been something neither of you ever mentioned, even during the packing stage. You raised your head from his chest searching his eyes. “Do you want to?”

Another silence fell over you two as you both processed your question. Eventually he gave you a slow nod. “Yeah. I do. Do you?” At your nod Oikawa let out a breath that he didn’t even know he was holding. “Good. So it's settled yeah,” he questioned. “Yeah it is.” You smiled as you maneuvered your way onto his lap. Settling your knees on each side of him, his hand your cheek pulling your lips towards his. “Good,” he repeated right before his tongue slipped into your mouth as his hands slid lower.

That had been 5 years ago. In that time you'd gone back home to finish your degree and he stayed in Argentina. The following year his time in Brazil coincided with a school break of your own and you were able to meet him there. You’d gotten to meet the iconic Hinata and the two of you teased your boyfriend to death with Grand King.

The distance was never easy. There were times where you both questioned if it were worth it. Stress from both of your lives outside of one another would pile up and you had to learn to work through it. Learn to comfort despite being thousands of miles away. Reassuring you that you were indeed the smartest person he’d ever met. Reassuring him that he didn’t want to quit. He was amazing and he found volleyball fun. You’d even been the one to propose going to Brazil trying to find the fun in the game.

When he told you he was considering the possibility of naturalising you even encouraged it. And then he proposed to you. He had a small break and had flown out to surprise you insisting that it was now or never. He wanted you forever and knew if he didn’t just do it he’d keep thinking about it forever. Of course you’d briefly discussed marriage, stating that you wouldn't mind an engagement, even if it lasted for a few years while you both got your career, living and citizenship situations settled. So when he did it you made the decision to permanently move back to Argentina.

“Are you sure-” he’d asked you shortly after proposing. The high of you saying yes had worn off and now the realization of what this really meant settled. You’d discussed marriage prior to him starting the naturalization process. The two of you had been sitting in your yard hand in hand watching the stars. “Of course. I was looking into moving back anyways. Wanted to surprise you.”

His hand tightened in yours as he eyed your face for any semblance of a joke. “Really?” You only nodded pressing a kiss on his clothed shoulder. “Of course. It's where it all started. Besides, I have no doubt that you’ll make the olympic team. Gotta be there in person for moral support right?”

Suddenly you were tackled back onto the blanket your now fiance was hovering about you. “God, I love you.” Fingers playing with his hair you returned the sentiment. “I love you too.”

Neither of you are sure how it happened. You’d met at 19 and nearly a decade later at 27 you'd both accepted your fairytale ending. You found love in Argentina and your heart swells at the announcement of your Fiance at the Olympics. You can imagine his scowl at the mention of him never making it to high school nationals and find yourself laughing. Eying the ring on your finger you think back to the promise he made you two years ago on the night of the engagement.

“I want to marry you and I want to keep playing. So if you don’t mind, can the wedding be after the olympics.” There's not a single part of you that regretted agreeing to those terms. As you watched him continue to train your pride for him continued to grow. As he entered the arena ready to play against his home country you found yourself yelling.

“Beat them all Oikawa!”

a/n: i hope u enjoyed this. I’ve been in a slump and on vacation past week but i am back (i think) and better than ever. I have a 10k atsumu piece coming within the next few days so i hope u stay tuned for that. Both of that and this are me tapping into my creativity and im very passionate about 10k words esp.

also; if you enjoyed this I think you’d really like my sakusa piece no limit to you. it has a similar feel and to date is my fav thing ive written (and 5k words)

lastly: did yall enjoy my google argentina research LMAO. ngl after um i kinda wanna go there tf

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu imagines #oikawa imagine #hq imagines #hq imagine

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periminkle · 4 years

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Orphic | Preview

After moving into your own place, it seems life is finally going your way; the path to independence leading you to a quaint suburban town where even the grass seems to grow a little greener. Although a shocking encounter leads you to believe that perhaps appearances can be quite deceiving.

pairing: hybrid!jk x reader (first person)

genre: hybrid au, angst, fluff

word count: 1.5k

rating: PG-15

warnings: a scuffle ig (is that even considered a warning?), mention of blood, swearing

author’s note: preview of a fic i’ve been (slowly lmao) working on! also is 1.5k too long for a preview??? i’m a newbie and idk how this works. btw please don’t tell me it’s bad bc i might cry :(

→ next

The snapping of the lock clicking back into place alleviated some of the soreness of my overworked muscles as I took another step inside. My head fell back to sneak a glance at the ceiling, hoping to peek past the old plaster and stare into the eyes of any higher being out there.

I quickly considered whether to thank them for this opportunity of a lifetime or to curse them out for my seemingly limitless workload, not that much of my work was of grave importance.

As my eyelids slid close in defeat, an exhausted sigh involuntarily slipped out into the silence. Kicking off my shoes into the pitiful pile by the doorway to join the rest of its brethren, I wandered deeper into my rather small abode in the darkness; only my padded footsteps and the zipper of my jacket being undone resounding throughout the house.

Living in a secluded area of my tiny town had its own perks for my antisocial self — one of which being an absurd amount of land for a relatively cheap price — but the appeal of living in a bustling city wasn’t lost on me. I was simply tired of having lived in a city my whole life and desired some change.

After having a couple weeks to settle in, I’d been convinced that moving out here, away from friends and family, had been a brilliant decision. Saving up for a couple years to be able to rent out a cozy cottage with a stunning forest as my backyard was turning out to be my haven.

Albeit, the bugs were certainly not a part of that bliss.

Hearing my stomach rumble with its complaints, I made the couple steps toward the kitchen’s light switch. But, an abrupt halt came with the memory of yesterday’s optimistic plan of embarking on a trip to the grocery store after a short work shift.

Evidently, I hadn’t predicted the gruelling day I would have nor the extra hours that would be requested of me. I found that I’d been frequenting the store quite often as of late, the demand of food increasing once another mouth to feed came into question.

Nearly two weeks prior, I’d found a companion crouching in the bramble on the outskirts of the woods. Assuming it was simply a curious mammal, I’d left some canned tuna out on the porch. When I went out to check the next morning, the tuna was gone.

Much to my amusement, the bowl disappeared as well.

That instance kickstarted the daily routine of offering food to the concealed animal — hoping to coax it out of its hiding place, getting rejected, then leaving the remnants on the porch. Without a plate.

In a reluctant fashion, I pulled my jacket back up to my shoulders, knowing that the fridge was just as empty as my stomach currently was. I pushed my aching limbs back towards the entrance, pondering over whether the grocery store was even open this late in the night.

However, I was forced to a grinding halt once again as I heard a booming thump from my backyard and my blood ran cold.

I waited with bated breath as my heart rate elevated, pounding in my ears. A minute of stillness passed before yet another sigh escaped my jittery body. Another disadvantage of a remote plot included being frightened by every snap of a twig.

As a scoff passed through my chapped lips at my own cowardly antics, I began to resume my trek to the front door when another thud reached my ears. The recognition of the sound coming from the backyard alerted me that this time may be different, with the presence of an actual threat.

Following a series of gut-wrenching cracking noises, hurried footsteps approaching the wooden porch in my backyard startled me to action.

Hastily, I dashed back to the kitchen to grab an unnecessarily large kitchen knife out of the drawer and flew to cover behind my minuscule island. A quick glimpse down towards my chest revealed my shaking hands. Well, this is certainly one way to spice up my night.

Listening to the intruder fumble with the lock for a little while before it was being smashed into, I knew I couldn’t just stay cowering behind my kitchen island, waiting for this murderer to come and end my night (and all my subsequent nights thereafter). The rage behind having to buy and reinstall a new lock also propelled my need for revenge.

I took in a deep breath and steeled myself as the footsteps wandered in, coming straight towards the kitchen. A loud growl reverberated throughout my house and befuddled me further. Was the intruder simply a feral animal? The lack of a problem with my lock dismissed that thought but I couldn’t shake the feeling of a predator having sneaked into my house.

The feeling of being stalked.

I rapidly shook off that irrational thought, doubtful the stranger even knew of another presence in the house. As the intruder turned the corner — coming straight towards my hiding spot — I reared back a little before launching myself with my dull knife leading the way.

A screech made its way out of my throat as the intruder’s reflexes were evidently a lot better than mine, catching my wrist before I could inflict any damage. But, I refused to give in just yet as I attempted to smash the hard edge of my palm straight into the stranger’s nose in order to buy myself some time to flee.

Unfortunately, for me, that attack never reached its target as the intruder caught my throat in his other hand much faster and used his larger frame to smash my body against the fridge.

The wind escaped me, though I kept squirming to try whip my knee straight to his crotch as a final ditch attempt. I lightly cursed as a glimpse informed me the intruder was a brawny man.

He noticed my struggle and easily flipped me around, one hand finding purchase in my hair, banging my head against the cool metal of the fridge and the other held both of my hands pinned to my back. The knife clattered to the ground in a dangerous arc.

In the middle of wondering how the hell he gathered my wrists and disabled me in a split second, I felt a heavy growl in the shell of my ear. A cold shiver slipped down my spine, adrenaline slowing leaving my body as we both puffed out breaths of exertion.

What the actual fu-

“No hurt, need bandage and go.”

His broken English came out with a slight accent and I found myself nodding instantaneously as I tried to work out what he needed. “Okay, okay,” I muttered as best as I could with half my face smushed, “I have bandages in the big drawer by the sink. You can take those.”

I only received a grunt in acknowledgement. He nudged me with his foot to shuffle backwards with his hand still wrapped around my wrists and led me to the sink. Half curious about his motives and half accepting that I could never overpower the stranger, I followed obediently. Though that didn’t stop me from deliberating over how to outsmart the man.

Deciding on waiting for an opening or a slack in the grip around my wrists, I nodded my head towards the drawer I was referring to earlier and finally peered up at my intruder’s shadowed face. He wore a black ball cap on, aiding in hiding his features which were mostly guarded by the lack of light anyway.

A glance at the lower half of his visage allowed me to witness his pale lips and the small mole directly underneath them, as well as a sharp jawline leading to his exposed neck. Inconspicuously bringing my gaze even lower, I took in his matching tattered black outfit, confirming his bulky build and scuffed sneakers.

Maybe I could run to the nearest police station — which admittedly, was rather far, and provide a detailed description of the criminal. Considering if I made it out alive, of course.

With his vacant hand he swiftly pulled the drawer open, taking handfuls of bandages, gloves, bandaids and other miscellaneous items I crammed in there. The stranger stuffed as much equipment as he could fit into the large pocket of his hooded sweatshirt.

I would have found his full little pouch endearing if I wasn’t preoccupied with worrying over my own well-being.

Another awkward wobble later, we were back at the fridge. At this point, I was gathering all the courage I had left to aim for a pressure point on the criminal’s thigh that I vaguely knew the location of. I should have paid more attention in those self-defence classes, damnit.

Just as I turned to act, he bent down to pick up the discarded knife off the floor, effectively deterring my attack and forcing me into submission. He then turned to me to flash a slight smirk.

“Cute.”

Releasing his death grip on my bound wrists, he sprinted back out my now broken back door, heading off.

After a couple minutes of stewing in my thoughts, back against the cool fridge, I struggled to comprehend the brief interaction and the dark drops of crimson littered all over my white tiles.

I still have to go grocery shopping.

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook au #jungkook hybrid au #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk fanfic #jeongguk scenarios #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk hybrid au #jeongguk au

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ohwereusingourmadeupnames · 4 years

Text

Washed Away in You

Pairing: Peter Parker/Tony Stark Rating: Mature (M) Notes: Haha, so this came from this post here and spurring on from @stark-bb! I also managed to throw a little sub!Tony in there (whoop, whoop!) Warnings: This is literally just smut. NSFW stuff, dom/sub undertones, orgasm denial, blowies Summary:

Peter takes Tony apart and puts him back together again, one delayed orgasm at a time.

Read it on AO3 here

Pressed uselessly to the middle of his giant mattress, Tony struggled to remember how he got here – completely taken apart, covered in his own sweat and Peter’s – completely strung out; so insanely strung out, in fact, he couldn’t even think at all.

Earlier that day, Peter sauntered into his office and tried to sit atop his lap. Usually, Tony would have dropped whatever he was doing to wrap Peter up and take advantage of the beautiful man sitting across his thighs, waiting to be worshipped. Today, however, Tony needed to get something for Pepper finished and didn’t have a second to spare. He gave Peter’s ass a swift tap, then nodded with his chin. “I need to finish this, baby. I’m all yours when I’m done.”

He saw the flash of challenge in Peter’s eyes and almost gave in right there. Tony didn’t find himself denying either of them the tantalizing delicacies of the flesh – there was no need to. Wondering for a moment if Peter would accept the answer and leave him to his chore, Tony looked back down at the holoscreen in front of him – eyebrows knitting together in an attempt at concentration.

Peter moved into his line of sight a second later, the man getting up from his perch in Tony’s lap, but still in the way – his solid core covered the expanse of his screen. Sucking in a breath, Tony kept his tone even, the immensity of the situation not ringing a bell until much later on. “Pete, please baby. Just this one thing and then you’ve got all of me.” Tony looked up with pleading eyes, his jaw clenching a little at the expression on Peter’s face.

“But I want you now,” Peter replied softly, the look in his eye a total contradiction to the tone of his voice. His eyes were burning into Tony – his pupils blown completely wide from the apparent arousal that Tony could see sitting just below the surface. Peter grabbed his hand from the desk where it rested and pressed it to the front of his jeans, the bulge there unmistakable.

Tony bit into his bottom lip, the length in his hand one he wanted to devour, even now – with Pepper Potts breathing down his neck, waiting for the very document he wasn’t nearly as close to finishing as he wanted to be. When Peter’s grip on his hand loosened, Tony dropped it like he’d been touching fire. The distraction wouldn’t do – he really needed to get some work done. “Twenty minutes, Pete – I promise, I’ll take care of you.”

A deep sigh left the other’s lips, the gust of air audible, Peter almost close enough for Tony to actually feel the air leaving his lungs. “Are you telling me no?” Peter questioned, the heat in his eyes changing a bit, the arousal sat front and center, but there was something else there, too – a sort of look Tony couldn’t remember ever seeing all too often before.

“I’m telling you not right this second, Pete – “ Tony mumbled in response, his face heating up, the idea of denying his gorgeous boyfriend anything eating at him a bit. Pepper threatened to come up and drag him through the process by his ear if he didn’t get her what she needed, though and he knew that she’d make good on it if push came to shove. A few more minutes couldn’t possibly hurt.

There wasn’t a peep from the other man as he turned and walked away from the desk, his footsteps determined. On the other side of the room, Peter took a seat in the big plush chair he kept there, Tony’s stomach clenching at the thought of the many, many, many fun times they had in that chair. Doing his best to focus on what was in front of him, Tony started to work through the document, his eyes scanning carelessly in a desperate attempt to just get it over and done with.

The sound of a zipper being pulled down had Tony’s head turning, his eyes widening when he saw Peter start to step out of his pants, the red briefs he watched his boyfriend pull on that morning still spread across his ass cheeks in the most tantalizing way. Peter bent over then, his ass in the red fabric completely on display. While he took care of his shoes and socks to get his pants all the way off, Tony gulped and tried to pull his attention back to the screen in front of him.

A soft sigh had him looking back over at Peter a minute or two later – he’d been reading the same sentence over and over, his concentration completely shot. They were suddenly in some sort of game, though – so he kept his head turned just enough to be looking in Peter’s direction, but not recognizably so. His boyfriend was now naked, a hand wrapped around his length, fingers tugging idly at the small patch of hair at the start of the base of his crotch. Brown eyes were closed, the soft looking eyelids keeping the heat in them completely under cover.

For ten minutes, Tony looked back and forth between his work and the explicit picture Peter made on the other side of the room – his heart was pounding and any blood that resided in his brain previously moved down south into the furthest region of his core, his cock throbbing with it. Rushing through the rest, Tony swiped his signature at the end of the document and sent it off, the content in it something he would need to familiarize himself with later; there were better things to attend to now.

Getting up from his chair, Tony moved across the space between them quickly, his steps eager and his body more than ready to take part in whatever Peter had in mind earlier. With only a step or two left to cover, Peter’s eyes popped open, the slackness of his jaw tightened as he spoke. “No, Tony. Don’t come any closer.” His hand picked up the pace on his length, the boy’s strokes becoming off balance and jerky; he was close to the precipice, Tony could tell.

He stopped in his tracks, eyes drifting over Peter’s nakedness until their gazes caught. Tony wanted so badly to put his hands all over that smooth flesh, but he refrained – something in Peter’s voice told him to listen, to keep himself exactly where he was. So, he watched, instead. Peter kept his eyes locked on Tony, his tongue peeking out to trail across already wet lips; the whole vision of it almost enough to bring Tony to his knees.

Peter came all over himself a few minutes later, Tony’s name and an abundance of fucks leaving his throat in the neediest of ways, each sound pulling him closer, despite the command to stay. He resisted until Peter’s hand stopped, the glistening cum on his fingers calling Tony’s name, practically begging him to sop up all the goodness covering untouched skin.

“Are you ready for me now, Tony? I can see you itching to get your hands on me – you’re practically foaming at the mouth. Is that what you want? To touch me?” Peter whispered the questions at him, his voice still a little breathy from the intensity of his orgasm. The younger man sat there shamelessly, Peter making no move to approach or even wipe the cum off of his stomach.

“Yeah. Yes – I want to touch you. I want to run my fingers through the mess on your stomach and use it to ply you open,” Tony retorted, the words coming out of his mouth like water from a faucet. While usually talkative during their encounters, Tony didn’t just babble things like that. He usually spoke with purpose – his words always meant to tease and tongue tie; never to admit his baser desires. Never for that.

The smile that overtook Peter’s face made Tony groan – the younger man had something cooking up in that beautiful mind of his. “That’s what I thought. How about this instead,” Peter shifted in the chair a bit while he spoke. “You’re going to get on your knees and hold your hands behind your back. You can touch all you want, but only with your tongue. If you use your hands, I’ll tie them up.” He smirked then, both men already knowing that by the end of this, Tony would probably be bound up, his traitorous hands unable to keep away from flesh that called to him like a siren song.

Moving as quickly as he could, Tony narrowed the distance between them and unceremoniously dropped to his knees. His hands shot out to grip Peter’s calves, but he caught himself at the last minute – fingers balling into a fist, instead. He reached behind his back with both hands, his right wrist grabbing hold of the left one. Looking up, Tony leaned in and opened his mouth.

He started at Peter’s chest, the rogue droplets all the way up near his neck. Dipping it into Peter’s collarbone, Tony took his time collecting the salty goodness there. His eyes closed in pleasure, the delicate taste of simply Peter and his release one of Tony’s favorite things. The trail of cum led him down Peter’s taut abs to his belly button, his rogue tongue dipping in to trace and poke. The mass of it sat in a small puddle at the bottom of Peter’s stomach, the trail of hair there leading directly down to an already reawakening erection.

Tony lapped at the skin like a dog, his entire body thrumming with arousal with each pass of his tongue. When there was nothing left, Tony reached up to grab Peter’s knees – the hope of pulling his legs wider shot from the sky almost immediately. “I said tongue only, Tony. You don’t listen very well,” Peter said, his hands first batting Tony’s away, then sinking into the long hair at the back of the older man’s head, fingers gripping tightly. “Bad listeners don’t get to touch.”

Peter used the leverage of his grip to pull Tony’s head until the man was looking at him. Tony took in a deep breath when their eyes locked, the true meaning of what was going on finally hitting him. Feeling the need to immediately submit, he relaxed the rest of his body, his head the only thing leaning into the touch. “I can be good. I can – “ Tony babbled. His brain to mouth filter was quickly on its way to obliteration and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Shh, Tony – it’s okay. I don’t want your words. You’ll have to show me.” Peter’s nostrils flared then, the immensity of what he said probably doing just as much to him as it did to Tony. They didn’t dabble in this type of stuff often, but when they did – they went all out. Keeping his gaze locked with Peter’s, Tony nodded his head, then dropped it in submission.

----

After the nonverbal acceptance, Peter got out of the chair without missing a beat, his fingers still tangled tightly in Tony’s hair. He pulled until Tony got up and onto his feet, a groan leaving his lips from the sweet pleasure-pain of the move. The hand from his hair moved until the length of Tony’s neck was clenched in its grip. Peter gave his hand a squeeze and pushed, his intention of leaving the room immediately understood. Tony led them down the hallway with Peter’s hand applying pressure, the pace of his steps moderated by the tightness of the squeeze.

Once in the bedroom, Peter methodically went about stripping him of his clothes, nimble fingers more than familiar with the routine now that they’d been together for almost a year. It was funny, how far the young man had come – Tony could still remember when Peter couldn’t even ask for the things he wanted. Look at him now. Biting down the grin that attempted to surface, Tony kept completely still, his desire to be good so strong in that moment.

Peter pushed him onto the bed when he was completely naked, his eyes roaming hungrily over Tony’s body – it was laughable, the literal Adonis looking at him like that, a mere peasant in comparison. Tony scooted up the bed until he was in the middle of it, the California king swallowing him up the closer he got to the nest of pillows they kept there.

Throwing his hands up over his head, Tony gripped at the pillows he could reach, the want to slide a hand down his own chest and grip his cock starting to get a little overwhelming. Peter watched him avidly, a nod of approval coming his way when the other noticed his actions – a quick fix to a nasty predicament.

The touches started at his feet, Peter’s finger trailing from the bottom of his foot, across the arch, and around each one of his toes. The other foot got the same treatment. Peter kept the press of his fingers to just the tips of them, the light dance of the caresses like a tickle or an itch. Getting to his ankles, Peter flattened out his hands and let the entirety of his palm run up Tony’s shins and across the bridge of his knee. He stopped at the edge of his quads, fingers tiptoeing across the musculature and only stopping at the v of his thighs.

Tony spread his legs a little wider and tossed his head back, his bottom lip getting abused by his teeth as he held back the needy words that threatened to fall from his lips. Peter wanted actions, not words – Tony could give him that, he could bite his tongue for the greater good.

The distraction of his thoughts was good, he could barely feel the bed move and shift with Peter’s weight, the younger man finally settling fully between his legs. Strong hands pushed on the inside of his thighs to spread his legs further, Tony shifting them willingly. His fingers clenched the soft down pillow a little harder, Peter’s breath ghosting over his balls as he leaned down to get closer to the key to ultimate teasing. Tony felt his sack draw up a little, his body on fire with arousal and the almost there feeling of falling over the edge.

Peter continued huffing out breaths against the skin of Tony’s arousal, the warm air making goosebumps spread out over the planes of his flesh – he wanted so badly to thrust up into the source of that heat. He felt the case of the pillow he was holding rip in his hand, the sound bringing Peter’s eyes up to look at him, a mischievous smile permanently rendered on his lips. “You’re beautiful like this, Tony,” Peter said, the tone sultry, their eyes still locked together. “I can see how much you’re trying in the quiver of your muscles. It’s so hard to be good, isn’t it?”

The words were followed by a tight squeeze on the base of his cock, Peter’s hand wrapping around him out of nowhere dragging a gasp out of his lips against his will. Slamming his mouth shut, Tony drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard – the slight taste of copper in his mouth telling him he drew blood. Good – he’d need something to worry at later.

Loosening his grip, Peter started to slowly stroke over the sensitive flesh of Tony’s cock – the pace measured; just enough to keep him close, not enough to let the heat boil up and bubble over. His lover knew him so well, the exact way he liked a swift flick of the wrist on the upstroke and the tightness of grip that drove him absolutely insane. It was blissful torture – Peter’s thumb brushed over the head of his cock and Tony almost lost it. “Oh, fuck!” he shouted – his fingers ripping more of the pillowcase as he fought to hold on to his control.

A wicked grin slipped across Peter’s lips and suddenly, the touch was gone. His cock was standing straight up, precum drooling down the side, the trail oozing until it started to collect on his belly. “What did I say about words, Tony? Actions, baby. Keep quiet for me.” Peter’s words were short, the clipped nature of them making his cock jump more.

Without the scorching touch of Peter’s hand around him, Tony found it a little easier to calm down – his need to cum flagging just enough to hang on to the dredges of self-control. Peter didn’t let him have too much time, however – the view of long legs was suddenly right in his line of vision. Thighs bracketed his head, the heat of Peter’s body almost immediately taking him back to the edge. The hair on his legs tickled his oversensitive skin and Tony shuddered, his eyes slamming shut.

Tony opened his mouth when he felt the nudge of Peter’s cock at the seam of his lips. The other grabbed the back of his head, deft fingers tangling in the hair there. He pulled until Tony’s head was up off the mattress, the access to more of his mouth way better at this angle. The thrusts started off gently, the tip of Peter’s cock barely breaching the confines of his lips.

“The view from this angle is so sexy – your lips wrapped around my cock, my balls hitting your chin every single time I thrust forward. I can’t believe the look in your eye, Tony – if you could beg right now, you would. For more of my cock, for the burn of your skin to reach a peak so it stops scorching you. So fucking sexy.” With each word, the younger man started to increase the pace and depth of his thrusts – the last few sounded choked off as Tony took every single inch of Peter’s length with grace, his throat slack and ready.

“Jesus – your mouth, Tony. There are so many great things that come out of it – theories, fucking technological masterpieces. This is your greatest piece, though – drool dripping down your chin, your mouth stuffed to the brim with all of me.” The fingers in Tony’s hair tightened further, Peter getting a little reckless the closer he got to his own end.

He felt Peter’s orgasm about a second before the back of his throat was painted with a thick stream of cum. Tony’s throat jumped, his breath coming rapidly through his nose as he tried to adjust to the assault of Peter’s cock pressing in further than he’d been when his orgasm started. Doing his best to swallow, Tony forced himself to relax – a few stray tears slipping down his cheeks with the strain.

The younger man didn’t pull back until his cock started to deflate – Tony almost missing the fullness of his throat when it was no longer there. Peter looked down at him with a hazy smile, his eyes wide, blown to bits by the arousal that could be tangibly felt in the room. His boyfriend shuffled until he was back between Tony’s legs – his chest conspicuously settling against his aching erection, the weight of him almost enough contact to get him there. Tony bit into the open wound on his lip and let the pain distract him.

Eager lips pressed against his own and followed his tongue, Peter running the tip of his own tongue over the bite, the touch a nice combination of soothing and arousal spiking. “You’re doing great, baby. Absolutely amazing,” Peter mumbled as he pulled away, his nose brushing tenderly over Tony’s – the contact so soft after the rough face-fucking he’d just taken.

----

What felt like ages later, Tony’s hands were clenched in the sheets down by his sides – his entire body on fire from the stimulation all over the place. Peter took his time kissing down his neck and chest, over his stomach – even pulling at the trail of hair that led down to his cock with his teeth. It was exquisite torture and quickly getting harder to handle by the second. Warm lips skipped purposefully over his cock, their descent aimed further into the crevice of his ass cheeks – the younger man swiping his tongue down his cleft before pulling them apart to expose his fluttering hole.

Peter didn’t waste any time, he simply dove in and started to tongue mercilessly at Tony’s rim. An unexpected howl slipped from his mouth – the suddenness of the attack bringing him from zero to a billion in the space of a millisecond. It didn’t faze him, though – Peter simply doubled up his efforts, the tip of his tongue darting in and out of the now loosened muscle.

Tony felt all ties to his control start to fade away, his mouth open, fingers gripping the sheets hard, the fabric probably not going to hold up to the clench for much longer. Before long, Peter pressed a finger in alongside his tongue, the stimulation of both slick and wet and long and rigid making him shout again – words tumbling out of his mouth without thought, the babble his only mechanism to stop the inevitable rush of an orgasm that was a long time in the making.

“Fuck, Pete – please. Please. I won’t say no again. I won’t. Please, baby.” It was all said in a rush, Tony shamelessly flushing even further as the words reached his own ears. He sounded needy and blissed out, like the drone bee buzzing thoughtlessly in divine worship of the glorious queen. Peter had successfully pulled him apart at the seams, the lesson of the day absolutely learned.

Thankfully, Peter took mercy on him, the younger man shifting until he was leaning over Tony to get to the bedside drawer. He returned with a triumphant smile and lube in his hand. The snick of the bottle was the last thing Tony heard, his body slumping into the mattress when Peter settled back into the space between his legs, slicked himself, and pressed in without hesitation. It was glorious, the feeling of coming home washing over him. “Thank fuck,” Tony whimpered, his head thrown carelessly back against the mattress.

Lips wandered over the exposed skin of his throat until they were settled against the shell of his ear, Peter’s hips rolling lightly, the tip of his cock just barely grazing his prostate. “Just a little longer, baby. You’re almost there.” Peter rumbled against his ear, his hips pulling back and really starting to thrust.

It didn’t take long, Tony felt close to the point of passing out from the need to finally let go. His cock throbbed, the head of It a dark purple color – the blood collecting there making it feel close to exploding. When Peter reached between them, he lost it. “Please, Pete. I – “ Tony slurred, his brain mush at this point, the older man surprised he got anything out at all.

“Cum for me, Tony. I’m right there with you.”

No sooner were the words out of Peter’s lips did Tony finally let himself go. His orgasm hit him like a freight train, black spots dancing in front of his eyes, a steady stream of unintelligible words like ‘fuck’ and ‘Peter’ rolling from his mouth. He felt like melted goo, every piece of him slumping into the mattress below him. The satisfying feeling of Peter filling him barely registered, every part of him wreck beyond repair.

Peter curling up to his side wasn’t noticed until many, many, many minutes later. He spent a little bit of time feeling like he was floating outside of his body and that was too good a thing to come down from. Being met with soft eyes and a sneaky smile eased the fall – Peter was beautiful, the only person in this world that could rip him apart and knit him back together as an even better version of himself.

“I love you,” Tony rumbled sleepily, his arm tightening around him as much as the minimal energy coursing through him would allow.

Peter nosed into the side of his neck, his head resting there. “I love you, too.”

#starker #ironspider #peter parker/tony stark #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker x tony stark #tony stark x peter parker #bobbie writes #prompts #fics #fic inspo #this was fun #all the aus #all the prompts #sub!tony

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undertaker1827 · 4 years

Note

AAA FUCK I JUST REALISED U ALSO WRITE FOR RONALD WISSIANLA COULD U DO IT FOR GRELL AND RONALD U DONT HAVE TO THO 💕💕

Absolutely!! Umm this one kinda ran away with me, we’re well over 2000 words. Enjoy!

Masterlist

The sun was shining down beautifully this morning. London’s streets were busy as ever with pedestrians, full of traffic and the city’s general air of bustle. Your hand rested lightly over the zipper of the small bag you were carrying, sunglasses perched over the bridge of your nose. You barely had to think about where your footsteps were taking you; you knew the route to your favourite coffee shop so well.

There was a spring in your walk, excitement practically radiating off you as you neared your destination, looking forward to seeing your boyfriend. He was always so busy with work, you barely ever seemed to meet up face to face. Of course he spent as much time as possible on the phone, texting you when a call or facetime wasn’t acceptable. You even had the feeling that he did it on the clock, when you were certain he wasn’t supposed to, not that you would ever tell that to anyone else. It felt somewhat nice to have a secret only kept between the two of you and it would be a lie to say that the thought that he would break the rules of his workplace for the sake of talking to you didn’t make you go all warm inside.

The bell above the coffee shop gave a happy tune as you opened the door and you waved to one of the girls behind the counter. Throughout the time you had been coming here, you had built up quite the friendship with Meg, who had memorised your order after knowing you only a week. Your eyes scanned the various tables, both those with a higher stance surrounded by stools and the shorter ones with soft leather armchairs dotted in between them. Your eyes lit up when they met a sparkling green gaze boxed behind black framed glasses. Your boyfriend put on a charming grin, the one he knew would make you melt, and gave you a two-fingered salute.

As soon as you made your way over to the table he had picked out - your usual one - he jumped up to press a kiss to your lips, a hand curling around your lower back and the other reaching up to card back through your hair. You couldn’t help but laugh at the PDA, Ron was nothing if not proud of showing physical attention. You didn’t mind all that much, especially not in this specific place. It was almost like a second home at this point.

“Got your favourite,” Ron grinned, throwing a casual thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of a steaming mug full of what was, in fact, your favourite. You returned the broad smile, sitting down in the chair next to his and cradling the mug close to you. Your other hand reached over and intertwined with his, resting on the arm of his chair. You chatted away for well over an hour, intermittently sipping away at your drinks and watching the city go by through one of the large windows on the shop front. Meg had taken a break around 20 minutes ago and quickly rushed past your table, giving each of you a quick hello.

You got around an hour and a half overall, which was most certainly a rare treat, but it ended all too soon. It was with a frown and disappointed sigh that Ron turned to face you, fingers still laced together. You knew just from the look on his face what he was going to say.

“M’ sorry, sweetheart, duty calls,” he murmured, undeniable sadness flitting through his eyes. You gave a sad smile of your own nodding quietly. It quickly widened into something happier though, the feelings of the morning’s walk coming back to you.

“I know. It’s alright though! I mean we had all morning together, that hasn’t happened in ages!” He shook his head slightly, eyes sparkling once again.

“Always so optimistic, you know that?” You thought for a moment, deciding there was only one appropriate response for his words.

“Love you, Ron.” He leaned his head to the side, teeth flashing in a grin as he ran his fingertips through his wild locks.

“You know I love it when you call me that.” You did. That was the name you called him by most often. He reached over to pull you in, leaving a kiss on your lips then moving to hover his lips above your ear, his voice a mere whisper as your heart beat frantically in your chest.

“Love you, too.”

It turned out to only be a few hours later when you saw him again. You had spent a decidedly relaxing day wandering around the city, every so often taking a picture or inspecting something in a shop window. You had just made it into a secluded street, one you picked up your pace to get through as you realised there were no pedestrians. You were about halfway down when a flash of metallic red in an alley to your left caught your eye, followed by someone taking a sharp breath and a clipped heel landing on the pavement. The shoe was a pristine white Oxford, and paired with the crisp black three-piece, you were fairly certain you knew who it was. Your steps increased in speed again, this time with excitement. It was when you saw his mop of two-tone hair that you allowed yourself to break into a run.

“Ron!” You called out, smile settling over your lips. You were too happy to consider why he would even be in this area of London. Whilst you knew his job was important, he had never exactly given you the specifics. When he turned to face you fully, it was with his usual flirty grin and an extended hand, covered entirely in a black glove. However, the closer you got to him, the slower you moved. A feeling of dread spread throughout your body as you took in his beautiful face, now marred with a clean flick of crimson. Your eyes then travelled to whatever he had hoisted over his shoulders, casually and like it weighed nothing. You could hardly believe what your eyes were telling you, but it looked like a lawn mower. There was a sickening dripping sound emanating from the blades and you swallowed hard. You stopped walking entirely when you caught sight of a black boot lying on the ground, just visible from the alleyway it was protruding from. Ron’s face had fallen now too, but as he followed your eyeline, every feature drained to deathly pale. His eyes widened into shock and he looked as if the weight of the world had just been dropped onto his shoulders.

“I - oh, no I - Y/N…” he whispered in strangled voice. He looked like he felt sick. You certainly did.

“What’s… what’s that?” You asked, horror permeating every nerve as you forced yourself to walk closer. “Who’s - that?” He seemed as shocked as you were.

“Y/N I never told you … how could I not have though to tell you?” You were within arms’ reach of him now, close enough to realise that the person lying on the ground, hunched with a knife still protruding from her abdomen, was none other than Meg. Your hand flew to your mouth as your eyes began to mist over. Helplessly, Ron extended a hand to attempt to touch you, to do something, anything. You stepped back immediately, palm flat in a useless attempt to defend yourself.

“What the hell have you done?” Your voice wavered, but it was stronger than you were expecting. “You-you killed her?!” Rationality and caution were thrown through the window as an indescribable rage overtook you. Before you knew it, you were throwing yourself at the man before you with all the strength you had, hands fisted so tightly you were certain your own nails were drawing blood. Your punches landed uncontrollably on his face and chest; you barely even heard the clatter of his weapon being discarded.

Ron caught your wrists easily to end your attack. Your logical mind knew he would - he was considerably stronger than you. That didn’t stop you from struggling. He was calling your name, trying to bring your attention back to him but all you could see was red. That was until you glanced past his shoulder to see the body of your friend. When the gravity of the situation hit you, all fight fled from your being, leaving your muscles weakened and the breath leaving your lungs in heaving pants.

“You killed her,” you muttered, spite rising in your voice as Ron held your arms out to the side. It occurred to you that he was being careful not to hurt you, but that wasn’t much consolation.

“Y/N, please listen to me. I did not kill your friend, I swear.” You glared up at him from your slightly shorter stance, upper lip starting to curl into a sneer in spite of yourself.

“Really? Because it damn well doesn’t look that way,” you growled. Sarcasm and anger tended to be your defence mechanisms to cover up fear and pain, so you had well and truly fallen back on them now.

“Can I explain? Please?” You worried at your lower lip before taking the plunge and nodding. “This’ll be confusing and difficult to believe,” he started, “but I’m a grim reaper. I’m in the UK branch of an international organisation that works to collect the souls of the deceased. We don’t kill them ourselves, though it’s easy to see why you would think that, we just assess and collect their souls.” Your eyes were starting to cloud over again as you mulled his words, a slight tremble setting up in your hands.

“So you’re saying you didn’t kill her … someone else did?” His expression turned sympathetic as he nodded.

“I’m so sorry.” You blinked and swallowed, gritting your teeth and trying to clear your mind. All you could feel now was grief.

“Hey, hey…” Ron murmured, grip loosening entirely as his hands travelled from your wrists, up your arms until they came to rest lightly on your shoulders. He knew you believed him when you didn’t pull away, but his eyes were still full of sadness for you and disbelief that telling you what he was had entirely slipped his mind. “C’mere.”

You practically fell into his arms, face buried into his neck as a sob broke from your throat. Ron’s arms encased you and held you tightly to his chest, his nose buried into your hair as he whispered sweet nothings to you, attempting to help you find comfort.

You had no idea how long you both stood like that, no concept of the passing of time, but eventually your tears dried up and your legs ached but you still didn’t want to move, because as soon as you did, Ron would give you the same look as this morning and say he would have to go back to work, however much it hurt you both. Then, as if he had heard your thoughts, he asked what you wanted to do. You answered without moving back to look at him.

“I want to go home,” you confessed, “but I don’t want to be alone.” He nodded understandingly.

“Your place or mine?” It took you a while to reply, shocked as you were that he had implied he would stay. Your arms tightened around him.

“Yours would be good…” you whispered. You found the smell and homeliness of his apartment comforting, not to mention that he didn’t have an intricate glass bowl Meg bought for him in the hallway as you entered his home.

He nodded again. You closed your eyes for a moment, only to open them and think you were hallucinating. You thought you were standing in his flat.

“It’s teleportation, love, that’s all.” You were too tired to question it. Ron dropped the weapon down and left it to one side. He swiped at the blood on his cheek then discarded his gloves over its handle, turning around just as quickly to face you again. He stepped closer, fingertips brushing your elbow.

“What can I do?” He murmured, trying to catch your gaze. When you did look up, you found yourself unable to look away again.

“Please just hold me.”

He leaned down immediately to press you against him, bringing you with him as he moved towards the sofa against the back wall. He turned towards you as soon as he sat down, an arm around your waist and the other behind your shoulders, holding you tightly to him. You crossed a leg over his, arms curling behind his back and closing your eyes, pressing your face into the join between Ron’s neck and shoulder. His hands traced circles over your sides and he let out a small breath, pressing gentle kisses into your hair.

You would sit together for hours like that, no need for speaking as you were both perfectly comfortable in each others’ company.

#black butler #black butler x reader #black butler reader inserts #black butler ronald #black butler ronald knox #ronald #ronald knox #ronald knox x reader #black butler ronald x reader #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji ronald

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wingsofkpop · 4 years

Text

When You Love Someone - Part Two /// Philia

pairing(s): Kim Wonpil x Reader, Day6 x Reader

genre: High School!AU, Young Love!AU, some Angst, but it’s completely sugar coated with Fluff

warning(s): None

word count: 3,3k

synopsis: There are many paths in life, but the longest of all is the path to the heart. In your eyes, what does it truly mean… to love?…

chapter directory

Prom—the one event that always manages to send shivers down a wallflower’s spine. There’s the attire; dresses that sparkle enough to put the stars to shame and tuxedos that barely compete on a grey-scale color scheme (unless you’re gay with a knack for decent fashion). Then, the actual party, complete with over-sweetened punch, cheesy photo booths, and music that’s bad enough for even the chaperones to jam out too. But there’s one part that’s worse than all the rest…

...The damn ‘prom-posals.’

Here’s the thing, the first few times someone hires the marching band to serenade their potential date into attending the dance with them are cute… But there’s only so many times you can hear Taylor Swift’s “Love Story” in English class, especially when it’s played on the trombone.

Prom was never on your bucket list. Even more so since Wonpil would be out of town the weekend of. But unfortunately, Jae somehow caught a whiff of your reluctance, cornered you right before homeroom, and basically threatened to carry you kicking and screaming to the event whether you liked it or not. You can always thank Jae for his dramatic flare in the most inopportune of situations.

And alas… Who are you to argue since he’d probably drag you there anyway? Which brings you to your current problem: Finding a dress that doesn’t make you look like a cougar or a whale. It’s surprising how little there is in between.

“What about this one?” You’re careful leaving the dressing room, taking precaution to not trip over the obnoxiously long skirt. Once you step onto the slight platform, you’re met with your own reflection, the dress doing very little to compliment your figure nor your complexion. “I think there’s too much fabric… and the neckline is just bad.”

“Why do you bother asking for my opinion if you already know you hate it?” Wonpil chuckles, never taking his eyes off of his phone. You watch, unamused, as he continues to type something out on the screen, paying your stare of judgement no mind.

You scoff, “Maybe cause I know you’ll just say it looks fine. Like all the other dresses I tried.”

“Hey, I did say that white one made you look like a giant marshmallow.”

“No, I said that-” Annoyance floods throughout your veins at your best friend’s indifference. “-You just agreed with it.” The brief distraction allows a sneaky piece of material to wind around your ankles, nearly sending you flying to the floor. A gracious wall manages to break your fall though.

“I don’t know what you want from me, (Y/N)-noona. I thought you didn’t care about prom anyway.”

You tug the privacy curtain back in place with a sigh, “Yeah, well, forgive me for wanting to dress to impress for one night.” The outsider grows silent, and you can’t really bring yourself to care over peeling the ugly dress from your body. Maybe you can just do as you did for homecoming and raid your mom’s closet—or just show up in jeans and a T-shirt.

Just before you’re about to pull on your own clothes and call it a day, you hear a soft murmur of your name. You tuck your half naked body behind the curtain before peeking your head out the small gap. Confusion turns to surprise at the sight of Wonpil standing with an elegant, navy gown slung over his arm.

“Give this one a try?” The cold facade melts from your chest at the boy’s apologetic smile. You roll your eyes with a soft grin of your own and snatch the dress from your best friend’s grasp. It’s a lot more simple than the ones you’ve been sampling; not overly decorated with lace, jewels and sparkles, or much of anything really. It was just as it was: A dark blue gown that barely went past your toes.

Wonpil’s jaw drops as you pull back the curtain, his expression twisting a bout of insecurity in your gut. You frantically rush to the nearest mirror with a whine, “Is it that bad!? I look like a blueberry this time, don’t-” The words immediately die in your throat as you drink in the picture in the mirror..

No detail was neither too large or too small. The cool hue of the fabric blended with your skin like a dream, revealing just enough to bring a sense of both modesty and confidence to your mind. The garment also managed to hug all the right curves—even going as far as to bring out ones you didn’t know you had. To put it bluntly, you looked badass…

...And you wouldn’t even have to shave your legs.

“I should be a stylist.” Wonpil chuckles, retreating to your side in order to help smooth out some hidden wrinkles. You snort at his comment, but choose not to rebuttle, still under the spell of this gorgeous gown, and instead, mull over which shoes would fit with the style. In theory, you might be able to get away with sneakers.

You fiddle with the waist, searching for the dangling tab that would make or break this decision. Once you find the price tag, you mutter a silent prayer to the universe before peering at the inevitable damage that would be done to your bank account.

“Damn it,” You curse. “Of course the one dress I like is the most expensive.”

“How much? Fifty?”

“Try tripling that.” With a sigh and help from Wonpil, you wander back into the dressing room, already a professional in the task of slipping the gown from your body. Then again, there were a lot less zippers, buttons and holes this time. “I’ll have to see if I can pick up some more shifts at the store. Especially if I want to get my hair and nails done.”

“Why don’t you ask your parents to cover some of it?”

“Money’s been a little tight lately, so I’d rather not. They work hard enough as it is.”

You make your way back into the lobby—properly dressed—with the beautiful dress in your arms. Wonpil points you in the direction where he originally found it, allowing you to sullenly return it to its rightful place. Even when you turn to acknowledge your companion again, you fail to notice the cunning spark glittering within his eyes.

“Did you want to get something to eat or-?” You’re interrupted by the sudden blare of your phone. An irked sigh drips from your lips as you grab the device from your pocket to identify the caller, however, your annoyance immediately dissipates at the name that reads across the screen.

“It’s Sungjin,” You say. “I… I should answer it.”

Wonpil nods, a knowing smile spreading across his lips. “You should. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Are you sure-?” But he was already out the door before the protest could finish leaving your tongue. Left to your lonesome, you inhale a deep breath—confused by the anxious feeling swirling through your stomach. It was only Sungjin, for goodness sakes, the close friend you haven’t spoken to for awhile… so why were you suddenly so nervous to hear his voice?

“Answer the phone, ditto.” Your murmur somehow produces the courage required to accept the boy’s call and bring the device up to your ear. It seems as if minutes pass by before the familiar, warm tone bleeds through the speaker:

“(Y/N)?”

“H-hey.” You curse yourself for stuttering.

Sungjin’s chuckle resonates over the line. “I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“Oh no,” You shake your head, before chastising yourself with the fact the boy obviously can’t see you. “Just shopping for a prom dress with Wonpil.”

“So you decided to go? Or did Jae change your mind?”

You can’t help but laugh, “You know me so well.”

“You know it. But I’m glad you’re going.” At his words, you feel something in your gut flutter—probably because you haven’t seen him in awhile… obviously. “Did you find one?”

“Huh?”

“Did you find a dress?”

“Oh, yeah.” You reply sheepishly, carding your fingers through your hair. “I’ll have to work three extra shifts at the store to pay for it... but it’s worth it.”

“I’m glad to hear.” He says, then quickly adds, “about the dress, not the working overtime.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

The conversation silences for a moment, sending your brain into another anxious frenzy. Before you could stop yourself, more words were already spilling from your mouth, “I-It’s blue… D-Dark blue, actually.”

“Yeah?” Sungjin hums, “I hope you didn’t choose it just because blue’s my favorite color.” Your mind goes blank.

“Wh-what?”

A wave of relief calms your racing heart as the caller erupts into laughter, “Relax, (Y/N), I’m just kidding.”

“Right. I knew that.” The sad part is that you really don’t think you did—how could it slip your mind that blue is, in fact, Sungjin’s favorite color?... That’s obviously not why you chose the dress… obviously. “So, uh, how are things? I haven’t, well, we haven’t talked… a lot.”

He sighs, “Yeah, about that… that’s actually why I called you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I guess I needed to… figure some things out.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his dark tone, “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing like that, (Y/N). I promise, I’m perfectly fine.” Sungjin says truthfully. “Just… confused, I guess… and a little scared.”

“Of what? Can I help?”

“Yeah, actually-” You can make out a slight waver in his voice over the receiver—and you don’t like how it kickstarts even more uneasiness within your gut. “-do you want to grab dinner tomorrow night? Just the two of us?”

“I have to work.” You whine, sensing the disappointed expression that was probably overtaking the boy’s face right now. “But we can do something after, like ice-cream or pizza?”

“That sounds great.” Sungjin’s reply is relieved; hopeful, even.

“I get off at nine-”

“You get off at nine, right-?”

A pregnant pause overtakes before the two of you erupt into laughter. Whatever negative emotions from earlier were long gone, leaving only the pleasant satisfaction of talking with your best friend. Before now, you never realized exactly how much you missed him. It’s like a piece of you is now complete.

“Exactly right. You’ll pick me up right from the store, then?”

“Yes. If that’s okay with you?”

You smile, “Perfect. Can’t wait.”

“Me either. I’ll see you then, sweetheart.”

Your stomach seizes at the familiar pet name, but you pass it off as hunger pains.

“See you then, Jinnie.”

“I like this yellow sweater, but I think the white top goes better with the skirt.” A huff flies past your lips as you continue to switch between the two choices, attempting to note which one would be more appealing through the mirror. Curse your indecisiveness. “Pil, what do you think?”

Your expectation for an answer dissolves into frustration, seeing as Wonpil was no longer sat on the edge of your bed as he was only a few minutes ago. The little fiend must have snuck out when you were debating whether to wear shorts or a skirt. He’s probably raiding your fridge as you think-

You continue to grumble as you toss both garments into the growing pile of abandoned options. At this point, you wouldn’t be surprised if your entire closet was strewn across your bedroom floor. You’ve tried on god knows how many things at his point, ruling them unworthy, ugly and just plain-old unwearable. Note to self: Go shopping this summer.

Most people, like Wonpil, would think you’re absolutely insane for ripping apart your entire wardrobe for as little as something as a stroll in the park, but this isn’t just any walk in the park (mind the pun…)—this is your first ever date! Well, if you don’t count that one dinner you had with some freshman your dad set you up with…

“I wouldn’t count it. That guy was a weirdo.” You nearly crash into your full-length mirror at the sudden voice and clumsily tumble to the floor. Laughter erupts from the intruder as you attempt to regain your breath, finally identifying the second person in your room.

“Sungjin? When in the hell did you get here?”

“Just now to overhear you talking to yourself.” He chuckles, sidling up to your place on the floor and offering his hands. “Wonpil called. Said you were having a mental breakdown over clothes.”

You groan, allowing your friend to help you back to your feet. “Yeah, with no help from him.” After deeming you wouldn’t lose your balance again, you make your way to your bed and dive onto your mattress with a loud sigh. Sungjin’s footsteps grow louder in your ears as he approaches, the bed dipping on your side. A gentle hand centers on the small of your back, caressing soothing circles into the base of your spine.

“Want to tell me the real reason why Wonpil’s hiding out in your kitchen?”

“That brat,” You hiss into the pillows before angling your head to peer up at the boy. His warm, chocolate gaze helps to somewhat ease the stress budding in your chest. You can’t help but inch closer to him, laying your head on his lap with another deep sigh. “I think I’m just freaking out over nothing…”

“I’m sure, whatever it is, it’s not nothing if it’s upsetting you this much.” He murmurs, “Now tell me.”

You gather enough willpower to flip over onto your back, staring up at the bumps of the ceiling plaster as your companion replaces his hand on your head, as if attempting to coax the words from your lips. Even with the comfort, embarrassment still toys with your insecurities like a puppet, but still, you somehow manage to find your voice:

“I’m… nervous, Jinnie… This is my first actual date and I don’t want it to be a disaster…”

The boy teasingly smirks, “And if you don’t find the perfect outfit, it’ll be a disaster?”

“Shut up! You know what I mean!” You smack his shoulder, earning another round of raspy chuckles. Sungjin’s fit comes to a quick end though, and you’re surprised when he slides off the bed and heads straight for your mountain of mismatched fabric failures. A couple minutes pass as your companion pilfers through the contents, before he calls you over to the mirror.

You hop from the bed, both eager and hesitant to see his pick. However, your mood darkens as Sungjin holds a plain pair of ripped jeans and a faded T-shirt up to your body—an outfit you wear on a daily basis. You shake your head, “This doesn’t really scream dress to impress, you know?”

“Maybe not, but it screams you.”

Your cheeks burn at his retort, “Sungjin-”

“-You don’t have to impress anyone, (Y/N).” He continutes, meeting your gaze through the mirror reflection. “You’re an amazing person, with so many good qualities that people only dream of having. You should be proud to be who you are, because you’re beautiful.

“And if your date can’t see that, then he’s a blind idiot.” With tears welling in your eyes, you throw your arms around your friend, tugging him into a fierce hug that leaves even your bones crying out in pain. But Sungjin doesn’t complain, only returns the embrace and murmurs in your ear: “Promise me you’ll never allow yourself to change for anyone other than yourself?”

“I promise.” You murmur back, “You’re the best, Jinnie.”

Eventually, you break away from Sungjin’s arms to look over the outfit choice still in his grasp. Maybe next time you’ll dress up to make yourself feel good—but for now, you’re gonna stay comfortable in your own skin.

A buzz steals your attention away, the realization that your date was probably on his way now hitting you like a ton of bricks. You release a terrified shriek, yank the clothes from Sungjin’s hands and shove him toward the door. “Get out so I can change, you perv! Jae is going to be here in minutes!”

Sungjin laughs at your frantic state, but retreats toward your bedroom door nonetheless. Unfortunately, too immersed in searching for a pair of clean socks, you fail to notice the boy turn back around and throw one last glance your direction. A sad smile spreads across his lips as he backs out of the bedroom and shuts the door with a click.

—Your date was a complete success.

“So we’re gonna get ice-cream,” You explain to your best friend, sinking into the plush sofa with a sigh. “He said he wanted to talk about something that’s been on his mind for awhile.”

“Make sure you grab carton of mint chocolate chip for me.” Wonpil says, not looking up from his sheet music. He continues to scribble along the lines and map out notes, reworking the song to his own definition of perfection. You find solace in the sound of his pencil moving across the paper, along with the steady gust of his breathing. Moments like these—peaceful ones—were rare with the throes of real life approaching so fast. It’s crazy to think you’ll be gone in only a month, living a life of your own.

“Have you heard back from that music academy yet?” You hadn’t meant to break the comfortable silence, but alas, your thoughts always seemed to overpower your tongue. Wonpil glances away from his page, before releasing a heavy sigh and returning to the music.

“No. Last I heard, I’m on the wait list.”

“They’re probably just backed with applicants. You’re definitely gonna get in.”

“I don’t know, noona.” The boy falters, his pencil slipping from his fingers and crashing to the floor with a small thud. He picks the utensil up, but you can’t help but notice how sullen his movements were.

You frown, “What do you mean?”

“I just don’t think I’m gonna get in.” Wonpil gestures to the piano with a pained expression, “And even if I do, I don’t have what it takes to be a real musician.”

“What are you even talking about?” Exasperated, you fly to your feet and round in on your companion. He doesn’t meet your eyes, even when you kneel down so your faces are level with one another. “Pil, you are the most talented artist I know. If anyone can get into that academy, it’s you…

“In fact, if anyone has what it takes to be a real musican… it’s definitely you.” Wonpil finally connects your gazes, a pinkish hue spilling across his cheeks. You coo at his embarrassment, reaching up to poke his nose. “Don’t give up when you haven’t even tried. Especially when you have all this talent.”

He smiles sheepishly, “I guess I am pretty good.”

You lower onto the bench beside the boy, “I’ll take it. Now shut up and play, Beethoven.” Wonpil bursts into a fit of laughter at the nickname, yet follows your instructions nonetheless and splays his hands across the keyboard with a bright grin across his face. Barely seconds pass before he begins to play.

Your eyes flutter close as you allow your soul to succumb to the soft melody flowing from the instrument. Each note evokes some kind of emotion—whether it be melancholy, joy or overall drowsiness. You always loved listening to Wonpil play, ever since he begun to take lessons and could barely differentiate between the notes. But like most talents, he improved and plays as if he has been for years… which is true.

You hum, opening your eyes in response to the beautifully drawn out decrescendo. Beside you, Wonpil snickers, but continues to glide his fingers across the piano keys. You watch them dance, strumming the instrument in a mastered routine. Entranced by the music, you allow your head to fall against your companion’s shoulder. Wonpil makes no move to push you away.

It is rare you find moments where the two of you can just enjoy each other’s company after all.

#day6 #day6 x reader #day6 fanfic #day6 fluff #day6 au #park sungjin #park sungjin x reader #park jaehyung #park jaehyung x reader #kang younghyun #kang younghyun x reader #kim wonpil #kim wonpil x reader #yoon dowoon #yoon dowoon x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop au

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