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#at least once we get settled into the summer rhythm
henqtic · 1 year
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morning sun . xavier thorpe x black!reader . wc: 641.
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summary: spending a lazy summery morning in bed with xavier.
note: this is a love note to the summer, please hurry up i can’t stand this weather anymore
·:*₊‧ masterlist . taglist form . request works . ·:*₊‧✩
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Every day, right when the moon had started to settle into bed and the sun would take its place, Xavier would rise and watch as morning poured in through his windows.
It was beautiful to him, to watch the world wake up.
To see the birds start to fly past, hear the sound of grasshoppers rubbing their legs together and the ‘hoo-ing’ of owls. His favorite part of it all was seeing the flowers he kept on his dresser straighten themselves out and reach for the light outside.
It was different in the summer, when he was in the comfort of his room, and in the comfort of your arms— cuddled up in his bed; warm, and free of worry.
His hums were soft from above, his chest rising and falling beneath you as he filled up the quietness of his house. The rhythm of his heartbeat kept you afloat, a pretty melody flowing through the ear that pressed against his chest.
You’d gone to sleep in a comfortable position, with one of his arms holding you down gently by the small of your back, and the other occupied as his fingers wrapped around the mini twists you planned on keeping in for at least the next week.
The silk lined bonnet that once sat on your head was long gone by now, hiding somewhere in his blankets that smelled of rich vanilla and hints of whatever it was he used in all of the drawings that hung on his walls.
It would be an easy task, really, just to fake sleep and waste away the daylight in his arms.
But he always wanted to seize the day, to go to the park, or on a walk, to one of the numerous popup carnivals or even a water park you had to drive two hours to and back from.
And for the fake sleeping, he knew you better than that.
He watched with a knowing smile on his face as the sunlight trickled down from your forehead to your eyelashes. It caressed the apples of your cheeks and poured down to cover your body like a blanket. Your lips quirked upwards at his stare, into a smile you tried your best to keep down.
“So,” Xavier started, you could almost hear the smirk in his voice, “What do we plan on doing all day?”
He waited while you drew in a deep breath and hummed, feigning thought. His nails still scratched at your scalp, and his head tilted so that he could finally look you in the eyes.
You smiled at his appearance, hair all ruffled into a mess, eyes half lidded and low, and lips plump and practically calling out to be kissed.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe just stay here until the hunger becomes too much?”
“And why should we do that?”
“Because you’re my incredibly sweet, beautiful, kind, and handsome boyfriend who would make me a thousand times happier if I could just cuddle with him all day.”
"That's all I have to do to make you happy?"
You hummed.
Xavier Thorpe wasn’t built to withstand flattery, evident as a beaming smile overcame his face and he had to look up to the ceiling to conceal his laughter. If you blinked, you could miss the rose-tinted blush that brushed across his cheeks.
“So is that a yes?”
You didn't hear him say a word, but a feather light kiss found its way to you, familiar as his hand reached beneath your shirt and gently grasped your waist, keeping you pressed against him. You shifted upwards, just enough to straddle him, tangling your fingers in his hair.
He kissed around your whole face, on your hairline, between your eyes, and your nose bridge— until there was no open skin left and loud and childish giggles disrupted that previous silence.
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rainbowvamp · 2 years
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pacing the rocks staring out at the midnight sea (part 1)
This is the first of probably 3 chapters. for the prompt 30. stone
I will not finish this for a minute, but I just wanted to start this before May was over. Some suggestive sexy things, not quite explicit, but not not explicit. 
sex in the other room. lap dance. suggestive comments. 
Athos Angst is actually meant to be the focus. I’m just currently not sex repulsed and taking full advantage of it ig.
Athos and Aramis aren’t really the weekend getaway types. Normally Athos has too much work to do, and Aramis can’t be bothered to go away from both his partners just because.
But… Porthos is very much a “let’s get out of the city for the weekend” type. And Aramis can’t deny his lover anything, really, and if Aramis is going, he will eventually convince Athos to also go and just bring his work laptop to work on whatever thing he doesn’t think can wait. 
Aramis has promised, sworn on his beard style products that he and Porthos will vacate the villa (that was supposed to be a couple of hotel rooms but Athos has switched to a villa because he doesn’t understand how budgets work and had just paid for the whole thing without being asked to) for at least 5 hours both Saturday and Sunday so that Athos can work some more on his very important case. Athos had originally said eight hours, but Aramis was very persuasive and had talked him down to five, mostly with the promise of specific sex acts and dish duty being removed from Athos’ responsibilities for a week after they returned. 
Athos used to worry a lot about Aramis and Porthos becoming closer than he and Aramis, but in the last year, things had settled down into an easy, if sometimes variable, rhythm. Aramis bounced between Athos and Porthos as easy as breathing, though he’d made no small number of hints about his desire not to have to bounce between them. Every time he did this Athos just rolled his eyes, returned to whatever he had been doing and reminded Aramis, once again, that he couldn’t simply will Athos to be polyamorous. That wasn’t how any this worked. 
Athos was finishing his last bit of peaceful work when he heard Aramis’ car pull up. It was still fairly early in the evening, the summer light still far from fading and Athos was about to close his computer when he saw the giggling stumbling way that Aramis got out of the car and realize that his lover was very very intent on taking Porthos to bed in the next few minutes.
Athos fished out his headphones and put on something classical that made it easy to focus on his work instead of Aramis having sex in another room and didn’t even look up as Porthos and Aramis stumbled in, already making out like a couple of teenagers. 
It was endearing, actually, to see Aramis being eager. He’d experienced Aramis’ quick desire to get into bed plenty of times over the 6 years they’d been together, but there was something special about being able to glimpse it from the outside. He tried not to compare Aramis’ subtle differences in approach, how he tended to give Porthos control rather than taking it like he did with Athos. How he made suggestions rather than demands of Porthos. How Aramis ended up being pressed against walls instead of pressing into them. Not always. But more frequently than he did with Athos.
He sees Aramis coming towards him and smiles, taking out a headphone, acting like he’d been sitting like that for a while, oblivious to what he was doing.
“Sorry to disturb you. We gave you the five hours.” Aramis smiled and bit his lip before bracing his hand on the back of the couch above Athos and leaning down to kiss him with the same lips that had just been kissing Porthos. He tasted of dark chocolate and syrup. 
“Yes you did. Very good.” Athos reached up and caressed Aramis’ face. “Would you like me to give you your privacy?”
“If you don’t mind staying, we don’t mind you staying, you know that.” Aramis leaned down to kiss him again. Longer, more sensual than the first kiss. A nip of teeth against bottom lip as he pulled away, desiring more.
“I believe it’s Porthos’ night. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 
“I never tease when I don’t intend to deliver.” Aramis smirked. “It could be your night tonight. If you wanted it to be. If you were willing to share.”
Athos huffed fondly at his lover. “Go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in the morning.” 
“Suit yourself.” Aramis gives him a last kiss and stands up, taking Porthos’ hand in his and heading towards the bedroom that was Porthos’. “Please get some rest. I won’t enjoy you as much tomorrow if you’re overworked.” This is not what Aramis wants to say, but he’s taken to this phrasing, treating his time with Athos like it was precious enough that Athos should be keeping himself in good shape for it.
“You’ve never minded before.” Athos calls after them, putting his headphone back in. 
He works for a few minutes on his reading. The case laws the could be or needed to be consulted were seemingly endless and Athos had overtaxed himself during the week trying to reduce his weekend work as much as possible and still had a stack too tall to think about. 
“Porthos!”
On occasion, Aramis could be incredibly, indecorously loud in bed. 
When Athos was the one with him, it was always incredibly satisfying to make Aramis hit certain levels of loudness, to make the man feel so good he yelled. 
When Porthos was the one with him…. Athos had mixed feelings.
Of course, there was no small amount of compersion (one of his new words) knowing that Porthos was being good to Aramis. There was also always a small lingering amount of envy that he wasn’t the one who was making Aramis scream.
And of course, there was the hot, animalistic arousal of hearing his lover crying out in bed just a few rooms away, followed by the indescribable need to be a part of it.
But, it wasn’t his night, and it didn’t matter how much he wanted to know what exactly Porthos was doing to make Aramis whine like that. It wasn’t his night, that wasn’t his relationship, and he wasn’t going to pry and he certainly wasn’t going to eavesdrop.
Except, his music could have been a bit louder without giving him a headache or lasting ear damage. He could also have relocated to the kitchen, maybe made himself something to eat and put a few more walls between himself and the other couple. He could’ve gone for a quick walk. Instead he found himself focusing on the not hard to discern noises coming from the bedroom down the hall. 
Athos wasn’t really a firm believer in hell, but he might just go to hell for listening to his lover and his lover’s boyfriend have sex without their consent.
“It could be your night tonight. If you wanted it to be. If you were willing to share.”
Athos thinks, briefly about what sharing Aramis might mean. Aramis sandwiched between himself and Porthos, probably. Maybe kissing Aramis while Porthos-
Athos stopped the train of thought before it could get anymore specific, adhering to the boundary he had set for himself when they’d started this whole thing. 
He wasn’t going to wank to Aramis and Porthos. He wasn’t going to fantasize about it. It was their relationship. Not pornography for him to use for masturbation fodder. 
Aramis turned his headphones up a little louder than was comfortable and went back to reading case law. 
—-
“You’re still in here?” Athos hears instead of his music when, presumably, Aramis plucks his headphone out of his ear. “Athos, it’s nearly 10.” He is leaning on the back of the couch, squinting without his contacts at the text on Athos’ screen.
“I was in the zone.” Athos shrugs and puts his head back to look more directly at Aramis. 
“So was I.” Aramis leered and turned his head slightly to press a kiss to Athos’ inviting mouth. He tasted like freshly cleaned teeth, and mouthwash, another boundary that had been set between them. 
“I’m sure. Porthos is ever so good to you.” It’s meant to be a playful tease, not a sexual one, but Athos doesn’t miss the spark in Aramis’ eyes.
“He most certainly is. Would you like to hear about it?” Aramis kisses Athos bearded chin, down his exposed neck as far as he can reach while not picking himself up. 
“I think that might be violating some boundaries.”
“Your boundaries?” Aramis asked, needing confirmation.
“Porthos’?” Athos laughed, like he couldn’t believe Aramis hadn’t thought of it already.
“Oh, Porthos tells me all about his other lovers. He doesn’t mind.”
Athos’ next question escapes his mouth before he can think any better of it. “Do you tell him about me?”
“Do you want me to tell him about you? You’ve never said it was okay, so I never have. Though I would certainly like to. I love to sing your praises.” Aramis kisses Athos again on the mouth, hard, fast, with more teeth than he probably intended.
“What happened to not teasing when you can’t deliver?” 
Aramis looks intently at Athos’ mouth. “I don’t think Porthos would begrudge us thirty minutes. He’s sleeping off our last round.”
“You could be sleeping too,” Athos smiled as Aramis climbed over the back of the couch and settles himself in Athos’ lap, making Athos set his computer aside before the other man just sat on it.
“Mm, too early for sleep,” Aramis kissed Athos.
“You’re really up for more right now?”
“I’m not up,” He smirked, “But I bet you are.” He ground down against Athos to make a point and Athos smiled without any joy behind his eyes.
“What?” Aramis asked, pulling back so that their contact was minimal. “Too strong? Are you tired? You didn’t look tired, but I’ve misjudged that before.” 
Athos leaned forward to press a kiss to Aramis’ kiss. “Go back to Porthos. I need to finish up here.” 
“You’ve been working all day.” Aramis frowned and Athos just shook his head.
“If you want to enjoy our time together tomorrow, you should probably let me work.” 
Aramis didn’t look entirely satisfied with this response, but he got up off of Athos’ lap and kissed  his forehead, running a loving hand through his hair. “Please go to bed at a reasonable hour. Despite what you think, working yourself to exhaustion is not actually good for your productivity. And I know you know it’s not good for your health. Goodnight, mon amor.” 
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Athos smiled and watched Aramis pad into the kitchen on barefoot, retrieve a glass of water that was probably for Porthos and blow him a kiss before disappearing back down the hall. 
Athos slumped back against the couch and rubbed his temples. 
He wasn’t sure he could do this. 
He could do this. It was Aramis, and he could do anything for Aramis, but… their arrangement was starting to wear on him in a way that he couldn’t describe. He didn’t begrudge Aramis his time with Porthos, but… he wanted something else. Something he didn’t need, probably. Something that was selfish or unnecessary. He was happy with Aramis. When he was with Aramis he was always happy, even when he was very clearly not happy. But still he craved something.
Athos closed his computer and went to brush his teeth and go to bed. His room was on the other side of the house from Porthos room (that currently contained Aramis) and it was good that he wouldn’t be awoken if they decided to get physical in the night, but… something about the thought left him feeling hollow. 
He went to sleep with a podcast playing so he wouldn’t have to feel like he was sleeping in his bed alone. 
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fatherhoodstory · 1 year
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seasons
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There was a field here once, and a pond of warm water that bubbled out of the ground just up the hill. Closer to the source, the water trickled down the slope through a natural trough and was warmer. We made rock and mud dams there to form pools big enough for one, or two. At times the elk would be grazing in the field and we would sit in our pools and watch them through a curtain of rising steam and giant snowflakes that fell thick and slow. I’ve written about this place before, when things were different, volatile and uncertain, yet somehow easier to understand and navigate. I remember the stars that night, brighter from the cold, and the outline of her body against them. The darkest of matter is always between the light. There was a warmth and anticipation of love then that illuminated the mundane. Before all that though it was ours and you would swim in the small pools we built, your tiny hands searching the bottom for rocks to throw for splashes and laughter. The plastic dinosaurs you would carry circled us in the pool, grazing mostly, others taking dips when you allowed. It is all different now. A facility, locker rooms, concrete and gravel walkways, and various sized pools of different temps fill the field. The pond is gone, or divided, but you can still see the trench where we would sit. The willows remain, the flow of water out of the earth now just working its way down the slope to join the cold river below. We had it to ourselves during those tumultuous early years, and the memory of it I carry still. I can see it from where we are sitting, across the river in other pools we built with shovels and dig bars, the hippy dips. It is snowing this morning and the wind comes in erratic bursts from the mountains above. In those moments of calm when the steam settles, I can hear the two of you and remember the simplicity of love.
The wood is stacked in neat rows around this old cabin. It is covered with canvas tarps and blanketed in what was winter’s first real showing. The rhythm of this life; the garden, the summer, the wood, the hunt, the hot springs and the bike, the quiet and harshness of winter. Around and around, year after year. You get older. I get older. People come and go, some say things before they do, others just fade away and are forgotten, a few remain in memory, fewer still we call friends. I decided long ago that you were the most important one, and whatever it takes of me I will not leave, not yet. 
I wake up early and shovel the snow off the sidewalks, throwing it out into the street. People speed by on their way to work, or school, most of them looking down at their phones, oblivious. Sometimes I throw a shovel of snow on them, to wake them up, or slow them down. Mostly they just give me the finger and speed on. It has snowed almost every day this month, with brief glimpses of sunshine between storms to remind you that there is light, somewhere. I go to your school after, my coffee in that tattered eskimo cup, and wait outside to see you. Sometimes you don’t show, and I wait just the same. I know the teachers now, the other parents. As different as we all are, we do have one thing in common, we all love our children. Some of them ask me what I am doing out here and I tell them. If I don’t do this I won’t see you and I just want to see you. They don’t understand, they see their kids, so they just shake their heads and say nothing. 
When this is all over, which it will be soon, at least you’ll know that I showed up everyday that I could. I ask you from time to time if you still want me to come in the mornings, and you do, for now. Some mornings you almost ignore me and I ask you questions about the book you’re reading, if you slept well or had any dreams. Other mornings, I just hug you and tell you I love you before I go. I hold onto these days, these moments, hard as they are, and let them go reluctantly and only because there is no other choice. 
I think about my sister at times, your beautiful auntie, mostly at night when I am alone and staring at the wall. There is a picture of her there, she is smiling, and if i think about it long enough I can hear her laughing. I feel her presence as I have every day of my life. She is still there somewhere waiting for me to call and check in. Where exactly did you go sister, that part of you that made that smile? They say heaven. I don’t have an idea of what that looks like, maybe it’s different for everyone, but if there is such a place where we go, and that place has a happy hour with a view of the mountains or the cosmos, that’s where you are, and I will see you there. 
-13 today. Below zero it’s all the same. 20 feels balmy, like a heat wave. The sun is out but provides no heat so low in the sky. I look at it anyway and think about the ocean, somewhere warm and without all this. I have other lives to live before I go, ones without you. The idea of that frightens me. I will miss you, and in a way all of this. To focus on one thing, the most important thing I would argue, gives you a certain purpose and meaning that nothing else does. I remember when I wasn’t a father, barely, and how selfish it all was. Parenthood reminds you that you are insignificant and giving yourself in the service of others is the only noble thing to do, whether they be your own kids, someone else’s, or strangers who have no one else. Live for yourself and you shall die in vain, live for others and you shall live again, or so says the song. Though I can’t imagine doing any of  this again. 
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judeswhore · 3 years
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chocolate fudge cake - mason mount
i couldn’t stop thinking abt him driving and idek how this happened but here we are
warnings: suggestive language, mentions of food, mason and his thighs
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You never had time for sex anymore.
Mason was constantly training or travelling and your uni load just kept piling up which meant you were either never free at the same time (or free long enough for anything to happen) or when you did have time together you were both far too exhausted to even think about initiating anything. You’d both get home late in the evening and collapse into bed, Mason’s arms pulling you into him and you’d fall asleep almost instantly to the rhythm of his soft breaths.
But it had been five weeks. Five weeks of nothing. Five weeks of sleeping beside your half naked boyfriend and not being able to do anything but cuddle and give each other innocent kisses. It’s not like you didn’t love being cuddly with Mason but there’s only so much you can take when his hands have a habit of wandering into not so innocent places during the night. He knew what he was doing, teasing you with longing looks and fleeting brushes of his fingers and you honestly have no idea how it’s not killing him because you’re just about ready to combust.
You’d been to his parents house for Sunday roast and all through the meal you could feel Mason’s eyes on you. His gaze practically burnt holes into your body when he watched you make conversation with his mum. You knew he wasn’t paying attention to what you were talking about because his eyes were glued to your mouth and he hadn’t blinked in at least a minute.
His mum had brought out a chocolate fudge cake, fresh from the oven, the melted chocolate still hot and when she’d placed it in front of the two of you, you’d gotten a quick glimpse of Mason’s smirk. He was sitting opposite you at the table and just as you were about to take your first bite you’d felt his foot connect with yours. Thinking he was just being a nuisance you’d thrown him a glare, kicking him lightly back. The smirk had only grown.
His parents had started their own conversation about when his sister was next coming for dinner but you’d already started to drown them out when Mason’s foot locked around yours and he’d forced your gaze to his mouth. He’d brought a forkful of cake up to his lips and had purposefully let a bit of the melted chocolate linger on the corner. Your own fork was hovering in midair, your chest and neck flushing a light pink as you crossed your legs beneath the table.
Mason’s thumb had come up to the corner of his mouth, slowly wiping away the excess chocolate before he’d sucked that same thumb between his lips. His eyes never once left yours, his teasing grin making your heart rate spike as you watched his Adam’s apple bob on a swallow.
He hadn’t even turned to his mum, simply kept staring straight at you as he’d complimented her work. “Tastes incredible, mum. I think I might have to take some home with us to eat later.” You’re sure his words weren’t meant to be sexual but you’d gone so long without anything from him that you could listen to him talk about paying taxes and would find an innuendo. Plus his teasing smile and the light knock to your foot had you thinking that maybe there was some other implication.
His teasing for the night hadn’t stopped there either. He’d kept his hand dangerously close to your bum when he’d led you out to his car, pulling open your door for you and helping you settle in, fingers deliberately dancing over your throat when he’d pulled on the seat belt, checking it in a way he’d never done before. It was summer and Mason had chosen to wear shorts and you swear he’d pulled them further up his thighs when he’d settled into the drivers seat beside you, the material bunching tightly around his muscles.
Your gaze had been locked on them and you watched the way he ran a hand over his left one, a mock scratch to the bare skin before he was starting the car.
“Did you enjoy dinner?” You’d hardly even heard his question, eyes glued to the way he placed his hand on the back of your seat to pull out of his parents drive way, his body half turned to look out the back window. The veins in his forearms had bulged and you swear you let out a whine, gaze cutting back to his face where he was arching his brows at you. He turned back to the front, right hand sitting loosely on the wheel, left fiddling with the gear stick.
“What?” You couldn’t concentrate with the way his hand was flexing, arm muscles pulling taut when he tugged the stick.
“Did you enjoy dinner? The cake was amazing.” He’d taken his hand of the gear stick and moved it to your thigh, giving it a light squeeze as he relaxed back in his seat, the sun from outside shining against half of his face.
“Yeah,” You’d had to cough and clear your throat. “Yeah it was lovely. Your mums an incredible cook.” He’d hummed at this, shifting in his seat so that his thighs flexed and you swear he’d done it on purpose.
“I was thinking maybe if we’re not busy we can cook them dinner next week? You know to give them a break?” You’d wanted to tell him to pull over, to stop on the side of the road and have his way with you but you’d just nodded and he’d grinned, lifting his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, thumb running comfortingly over the curve.
“Mase,” You’d leaned into his touch, almost melting when he’d moved his hand to the back of your neck and brushed his thumb against the sensitive skin there. You knew he knew what he was doing. His eyes kept flashing and his lips kept tilting at one side.
“I’m free for the rest of the day.” He’d mumbled, placing his hand on the bottom of the wheel as you got to a corner. “You got any uni work to do?” You’d sat in silence for a few seconds, mesmerised by the way he turned the wheel from the bottom to the top with his one hand as you turned the corner onto a narrow street, his hand returning back to its original position. “Sweetheart?”
“No, I have nothing to do.” You watched as a slow grin lit up his face, hand moving from the back of your neck to your chin so he could run his thumb over your bottom lip, attention darting between you and the road.
“Good, I thought maybe it was time we made up for the past five weeks.”
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hobidreams · 3 years
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june 1869.
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you’ve never been able to hide from him.
pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: smut, angst, fluff? words: 2.3k contains: choices, consequences.
moonlit throne index. this is drabble 21. start from the beginning?
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The moment you reach your private chambers, you collapse against the door. Your heart softly shudders with strain as you finally let the first tears fall, trickling steadily down your cheeks. The bundles you carried in fall to the floor as you cover your face with your cold hands, trying to stifle the quiet sobs that seem so determined to come.
You had gone into town after your work today. Walked down, escorted by a guard that you pretended wasn’t there. (The king now insisted upon such a thing whenever you left the palace walls, but you could tell the guard thought the job much beneath him.) You had just finished picking up a few ingredients from the market traders and was on your way to see if the bookstore had received new products when your attention had been caught by the sizeable crowd gathered outside the town clinic.
“Please, please, give me medicine for my daughter!” The peasant woman clutched a child that couldn’t have been more than two years old. The babe’s crying was as raucous as the yelling, the noisy mix of voices all clamoring with want.
“I need to see someone! My side— It hurts every day. I can’t work anymore. My family’s going to starve. I need treatment!”
The physician’s assistant stood on the clinic steps with folded arms and a bitter, hard look on his face. “Are we running a charity? We need to eat too! If you can’t pay, you can’t see the doctor!” He slammed the door in their faces, leaving them out in the sweltering heat, crying out that they could pay next week or as soon as they could, they just needed help right now, but the door remained shut.
Your chest felt stiflingly tight at the sight, compassion’s hand squeezing hard around your heart because you knew you could help. You had to help. You took a step forward, ready to offer your services only to have the guard block your way.
“Su-uinyeo-nim. We must return to the palace.”
“No, I want to stay.”
He shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. They could harm you.” And if they did, then his own head would likely be on the chopping block. Ridiculous.
“They won’t. They just need treatment, and I’m a physician.” You didn’t have many of your tools here but you could at least take a look, provide a diagnosis or recommend some easily obtainable herbs.
“The king would not approve of putting yourself in danger.”
You opened your mouth only to shut it. The king wouldn’t approve of a lot of things, but how could you just stand here and do nothing? These people, they needed your skills.
You took another step forward.
“Su-uinyeo-nim.” The guard’s voice was firm. He indicated for you to start walking away, towards home.
You shot him a stare, the hardest look you could conjure, but didn’t move. Not yet, damn it.
“Oh—uinyeo-nim!”
You dallied long enough. One of the women had evidently recognized your outfit and was now barreling towards you with a fire in her eyes. “Uinyeo-nim, you can help me, right!? It’s my daughter, she’s been having a fever and—”
“No, she cannot.” The guard’s glare was as sharp as the blade that the hand on his sword promised.
“Oh, please!” She threw herself against the arm the guard tried to reign her in with. Threw herself forward trying to reach you. “My daughter, my daughter will die if she’s not treated!”
“Let me—” You started, only for the guard to shove her harshly back since he could not do the same to you. She cried out, almost toppling over from the force as she clutched her baby, but he did not relent.
“We are leaving.”
He began to boldly walk towards you, practically into you, leaving you no choice in the matter. You were too afraid he might hurt her further if you did not comply even though every step away felt like a blow to your chest, like tiny fists pounding against your ribcage, making you sore and ache because the stark truth was that your inability to help her wasn’t even entirely the guard’s fault.
All those years ago, you chose to stay.
You never opened the affordable clinic mother had dreamed of. You put your feelings before the wellbeing of all those people you could have helped then, and you did it again today. Selfish. Selfish and helpless and selfish. For all the work you’ve done, it never feels like enough. There are always more patients in need and here you are, living among this extravagance and opulence but really getting nowhere. Not with the king. Not with how much change you can bring to the people.
Even your tears can only be shed here, in privacy and cowardice.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you whisper through your blurry vision, but these are just words. They do nothing in the end and every choice feels like the wrong one and that there will only be dire consequences to follow them.
“Su-uinyeo-nim?”
At Eunuch Kim’s muted voice, you startle. Hurriedly, you wipe the backs of your hands against your eyes. “Y-Yes?”
“The king has requested your company tonight.”
“Oh.” Shit. You’re in no state to face him, not for what he has in mind, but you must go. “I-I’ll be ready in a few minutes. Just allow me to… change.” You push to your feet, onto shaky legs as you sniff.
“Of course.”
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The brief walk over in the cool summer evening helps to pull some of the sorrow from your mind (or at least tucks it away to be revisited later when you find yourself as always, alone). Eunuch Kim is kind enough not to probe into the heaviness about you today; he simply chats about the latest novel he has picked up in town, a study of birds that he recommends heartily to you. The king is not so kind. The second you enter his chambers, tilt your head just enough for him to catch your eye, he frowns.
“You’ve been crying.”
It’s not a question.
“I, um, simply had some dust in my eyes, jeonha.”
Searching for a distraction, you begin to undo the tie of your blouse. You’ve never purposefully let him see you openly upset, or at least not since this ‘arrangement’ began.
“Dust. Really.”
You nod, unwilling to meet his stare.
The floorboard creaks as he steps towards you. Covers your hands with his own so he can strip you instead. You can’t tell if he believes you; he is so quiet while he pulls layer after layer from you, letting the fabric drop to the floor in bunches of crumpled white and light blue. The warmth of his fingers on your skin feels like comfort, even when it’s only a prelude to his desire.
Isn’t it stupid, that some excessive part of you wants him to openly refute your lies even as you tell them? To undress your mind as hungrily he does your body until you have no choice but to be bared and free, released from the burden of your own thoughts?
“Get on the bed.”
Maybe it’s better like this. You are the only woman he has ever known in this way; you can’t let yourself be so greedy, to again let that selfish part of you want and want and want so much that appetite consumes you, bones and all. You press your palms and knees to the hard bedding. Squeeze your eyes together. Force the tears to stay back while you wait for the burn to come.
His calloused hands land on your waist, but it’s to urge you to turn over instead.
“J-Jeonha?” you question, confused when you see him already on his knees, that piercing gaze provoking goosebumps from your skin. “Why…”
His hands find your ass, urging you towards the edge of the bed. He throws the top layer of his robes aside before he spreads your legs apart, letting them rest against the wood.
What… What is he doing? You find your answer as the sokgot strips fall to the floor beneath his touch and abruptly, before your poor heart has time to prepare itself, his breath blows warm across your clit.
“Ah, this—!” Wild-eyed, you try to squirm back, hot with embarrassment that his face is this close to your crotch. It floods you with worry after worry about your scent, the possible bumps marring your skin, the tufts of hair, but he doesn’t seem to care about any of it as he hooks his hands beneath your thighs. “You’re not—”
Soft lips and a slick tongue are pressed flush against you.
Your entire body seems to quiver at the first lick; a single taste of wetness followed by a second, a third, a relentless fourth that makes liquid pleasure crest, surging upwards, a high, rushing tide in mere seconds. You buck, hands finding no support upon the sheets and part of you wants to cover your face instead, to let die the moans that surface with each gasp but that means you would miss the sight. This unforgettable sight: inky eyes between your thighs, the quick, pink tip of his tongue swiping heat directly into your veins. It feels messy before he finds his rhythm, settles into a beat that only reaffirms how he is irrefutably dominant even while he is on his knees before you, for once not breaking you apart but making you feel so dizzyingly whole you could burst.
While his fingers have learned almost every inch of you, this remains a scenario you never even thought to entertain, never even thought he would want. His pleasing only you. His putting you at the forefront of even his own satisfaction. Stop. The grip on your thigh tightens; you never want him to let go. Stop giving me hope. He does anyway with a drawn out suck, his stare as hazy and heady as if he’s been drinking the most exquisite cheongju.
Your body is taut, sweat beading down your spine. “This is— I can’t—”
“You can,” he quips back, and whatever words you could have said are stolen by orgasm. Taken, and made unbecoming moans that blow past the last shreds of your resistance now resting between his teeth.
It overwhelms you, this newfound sensitivity from being consumed; it makes you want to shirk back but he doesn’t let you. Somehow one of your legs finds its way over his shoulder and he uses that momentum to keep you against his stunning mouth, giving you what you need but never what you want. Each lick nudges you further off the edge, finding an acute bliss past every limitation you thought you had and you think, feverishly you think — it’s like he’s giving you permission to fall apart.
Tears coalesce at the corner of your eyes but you don’t notice. You don’t even know they’re there until wetness trails down your cheeks and even then you’re distracted by another peak, this one a muted swell that makes your muscles tense around his thin frame; he supports your weight without a word of complaint as his strokes finally dwindle in time with your pulses until both drop off entirely.
As he lets your leg roll off his arm, his breaths come almost as unsteadily as yours. Slowly, he retracts his wide hands from your thighs. Rolling his tongue against the inside of his own cheek, you watch him paint your taste in his mouth and don’t know what to make of any of it.
It’s only when a few tears cling to your eyelashes and blur your vision that you realize what’s happening. How embarrassing. You told yourself you wouldn’t do this on the way here and look at you now. You’re about to reach up to wipe away the tears, the damning evidence of your weakness when the king wraps his hands tight around your wrists. Pushes you back. Presses his knees to the bed as he hovers above you, all silence and heat and him.
“Um, j-jeon—”
He leans down and cuts you off with a kiss.
You gasp into his mouth but he doesn’t pull away. He is just soft, persistent, firm, and soft as he moves naturally across territory that should have been unfamiliar, but instead it feels like he’s been mapping, planning this capture for as long as you have. An impossible dream, yes, but the warm breath ghosting across your skin, lingering, is real. You open for him. For your first kiss. Your first kiss with him.
The warm fingers at your wrist squeeze harder.
“You… You can cry.” His voice is a murmur, delicate and hesitant against your lips, as if imparting a secret. “If you want.”
So you do.
You finally let yourself cry while he kisses you again and again, adjusting his angle to push you further into the pillows, releasing a wrist to cup your wet cheek. He kisses you with his nose pressed to yours, a tiny, precious moan finding freedom from someone’s throat.
Yoongi, your mind recalls, clinging to the syllables that belong to a word you’ve never dared to say aloud as he kisses you, kisses you, kisses you until both your mouths are swollen and your chest feels a bit lighter, his a bit heavier in exchange.
And when he finally pulls away, he holds you. His arms accept all your gravity for just a few lingering minutes more, a few heartbeats more, until it’s time for you to go.
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You’re The Reason | Eric Matthews
Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!
Requested: Yes/No
A/N: My first Boy Meets World fic! Gah! I hope you like this! Couldn’t stay away from the JATP boys though, so it’s kinda like a JATP x BMW crossover... Lemme know what you think! 
Pairing: Eric x Fem!Reader
Song(s) used: none
Warnings: mentions of alcohol, party
Words: 4,028
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Eric Matthews. The goofy, charming oldest boy of Alan and Amy. My best friend since forever. Our parents always told us the story about how we met in the sandbox in Kindergarten. I was building sandcastles when Jason, Eric’s first best friend, came to ruin them. Eric, being the charmer he always had been, told Jason off and pushed him out of the sandbox before helping me rebuild my sand castle. Ever since that day, the two of us had been the best of friends. 
We did everything together. Everything from play dates to eating ice cream to going to middle school and eventually high school. Though we never graduated together as my parents had to move when I was 16. We moved to Los Angeles and never returned to Philadelphia. Eric and I were so torn. We had promised we would keep in contact and the first few months were hard, but we eventually found a rhythm in our long-distance friendship. 
Every evening, we would call each other except for the weekends as those were date-weekends where both of us went out on dates. But come Sunday evening, we’d both be on the phone, telling the other what had happened during said dates. 
During summer vacation, Eric would come to L.A. to visit me or I’d go back to Philly, just so we could hang out together for a few days. Those had always been my favorite days. We’d reconnect and find that spark again we always used to have, which, in its turn, brought us closer and made the next few months a little less hard when all we could hear was each other’s voice. 
Last summer, however, I realized that I’d rather kiss those beautiful pink lips than stare at them as he talked about yet another girl he took out over the weekend and made out with. It stung, to say the least, but I couldn’t tell him how I felt. We were miles apart from one another, it would just hurt more. 
Though what hurt even worse was when Eric called me one time in the middle of the night, crying. Confused and worried, I listened to him as he let everything he was feeling out of his system. 
“Mister Feeny is retiring, Cory’s going to college and eloped with Topanga tonight and I just– everything’s changing and I don’t know what to do about it. I wanna stop time and just go back to the way things were. All of us in high school, Cory and Topanga fighting over God-knows-what or Shawn and Cory getting into even more trouble. And you… Not miles away from me…” 
I choked back tears as I listened to him. He sounded so broken, so lost. I wished I could just hold him and let him cry as he spoke about how he felt. I wished I was in Philadelphia instead of Los Feliz, a place I didn’t quite belong. 
“I’m sorry, Eric, I wish I could make things better for you…” I said, my voice just above a whisper, afraid I would cry if I spoke any louder. 
Eric sighed on the other side of the line. “Why don’t you just– come home? Study at Pennbrook with me?” I stuttered and stumbled over my words, unsure what to say to him. 
It wasn’t like I thought about it. I’m an adult, I could change my whole life around and move back to Philadelphia. Back to Eric. But while that sounded all beautiful and wonderful and like a dream come true, I couldn’t just drop everything here. I had my new friends, a college degree I needed to finish. 
“Come on, babe. You know you want to…” Eric pleaded, knowing all-too-well what was going on in my mind right now even though he couldn’t see me. “I know I want you to.” 
I heaved in a deep breath. “I can’t, Eric… I gotta finish my degree here. I gotta–” Just as I wanted to continue summing up reasons as to why I wouldn’t be able to go back to him, four guys I knew like the back of my hand entered my dorm and jumped onto my bed. I didn’t even need to see who it was to know who it was. “Guys– I’m on the phone here,” I scolded them as the floppy-haired guy gave me his best smoulder. “Lukas, no.” 
“It’s alright, y/n,” I heard Eric say, though I could tell it wasn’t actually okay. “You go back to your friends. You stay put. Okay? Whatever makes you happiest.” 
“But you make me h–” Before I could even finish my sentence, Eric had hung up the phone. “Happiest…” I mumbled before placing the horn back on the receiver. 
“You okay?” the  blonde guy I knew best as Alex Mercer asked me solemnly. 
I pressed my lips together. “No– not really…” 
Luke wrapped his arms around my waist and snuggled into my neck while Reggie sat on the end of my bed with his legs crossed. “I think you ought to go visit him,” he said. 
“What?”
“No, seriously. You miss him, he misses you and you clearly need each other right now. Go back to Philly, y/n. Even if it’s just for the weekend.” For once, Reggie actually spoke some sense. 
“Yeah, I mean, you clearly miss each other and you need each other right now. And maybe, whilst you’re there, you can figure out whether you’d wanna move back to Philly or come back to us,” Alex added. 
I had met Luke, Reggie, Alex and Bobby during orientation day, along with Rose, my roommate. There hadn’t been a day where we didn’t spend time together. All six of us were sewn to the hip. Wherever one went, the others went too. A lot of people called Rose and I their groupies as the four of them had started a band way back in high school. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those four were actually married to one another. 
But to be fair, Alex and Reggie were speaking some truth now. I did miss Eric. I missed him tremendously. And maybe, once there, I could see that Los Angeles was truly where I belonged or if I should stay in Philadelphia with Eric… It was the ultimate life test. 
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I heaved in a deep breath before lifting my hand to ring the doorbell at apartment 3E. Nerves bunched in the pit of my stomach and my hands were getting clammy. I wasn’t even sure if Eric was home. I wasn’t even sure if coming over was such a splendid idea. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. 
Even less so when a tall fiery red-haired girl opened up the door. My throat dried up for a second. Did I get the wrong apartment? Eric hadn’t told me about a girl roommate or anything. All I knew was that he lived with Jack and Shawn. Though I figured since Shawn had gotten into Pennbrook too, he might’ve moved into a dorm with Cory. 
“Hi, can I–” the girl stopped in her tracks as she let her eyes glide over me. “You’re y/n, aren’t you?” Her lips curled up into a smile. “Eric has told me so much about you!” 
The nerves in my stomach made room for fluttery butterflies. Eric talked about me. Even to girls as pretty as this one. Knowing Eric the way I do, I didn’t think he ever would. ‘Girl repellant’ he’d call it. 
“Uhm… Yeah… I wanted to surprise him… Is he here?” 
The girl chuckled. “Believe it or not, but he’s actually in class right now.” 
“Eric? In class?” 
She nodded her head, her lips curling up into a smirk. “I’m heading to campus now, you wanna come? His class is almost over.” 
It definitely beat sitting here, waiting for him. 
“Sure,” I replied and the girl quickly went to grab her stuff before walking out and guiding me towards the elevator again. 
“I’m Rachel, by the way. I just moved in a couple days ago,” she said while pushing the button to call the elevator. 
Rachel. Roommate Rachel. She was definitely Eric’s type… A girl. 
“Eric hasn’t told me about you yet. For a second, I thought I was at the wrong apartment,” I said, chuckling a little. 
Rachel and I got into the elevator and she told me about how she wound up living with Jack and Eric. I had to admit to myself that I was only slightly jealous of the moves the two boys had made on her. Not that I cared about Jack hitting on Rachel, but I did care about Eric doing it. 
The red-haired fury led me towards campus and we talked all the way there. Mostly about Eric. She asked me questions about our childhood and I told her every single story about him. It wasn’t hard talking about Eric. Everything we went through together flowed out of me like a waterfall. A waterfall of Eric-filled stories. 
“Oh, look. He’s at the Student Union, as predicted,” Rachel said, pointing towards where Eric, Jack, Shawn and Cory were seated on the sofas, sipping coffee. 
A smile involuntarily crept its way up to my face. Eric Matthews. Seeing him now made my heart beat faster and my stomach fill up with all sorts of butterflies. My LA boys were right. I did miss him tremendously. 
“Come on, let’s go say hi!” Rachel urged, pulling me along by my wrist. 
“Don’t you have a class to go to?” 
She shook her red mane. “I’d rather see this beautiful reunion,” she said. 
Cory was the first one who met my eyes. His laughter made room for confusion to then turn into delight. “Y/N?” he exclaimed, causing everyone’s head to turn my way before he got up to embrace me. Jack and Shawn hugged me next and when I turned to Eric, he was still seated on the couch with his cup of coffee halfway to his lips. 
“What are you doing here?” he finally asked. 
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear nervously. “What? Aren’t you happy to see me?” 
His wide eyes turned back to normal and as he put his cup on the coffee table in front of him, he blabbed while getting up to hug me. “Wha– of course I’m happy to see you, y/n. I just didn’t expect you to come? Don’t you have classes and stuff?”  
I inhaled the familiar scent of Eric Matthews. As my senses filled up with him, my nerves finally calmed down. I was home. 
“I wanted to surprise you…” 
His hands cupped my face as he regarded me. He inspected every inch of my face as if to see if I was complete and really there. “And surprised I am,” he whispered. 
Shawn handed me a cup of coffee as we all settled back onto the couch. They asked me questions about LA and about college in LA, and I answered each and every one of them. It felt good being with this gang again. It was like coming back home. 
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Eric took me everywhere that weekend. Friday night, we went to Chubbie’s. On Saturday, he took me back home where I reacquainted with Alan and Amy, and we spent some time with Morgan. 
Now it was Saturday night and we were all at the club for a good party. I was three drinks in and chatting with Rachel at the bar. I had grown close to her over the two days I had been here. Just like Rose, she always knew exactly what to say. And she listened. She listened to all my sorrows and worries. She really listened. 
“I think you’re in love with Eric,” she stated before taking a swig of her beer. 
“What? No! I–” She raised an eyebrow at me. “I am in love with Eric…” 
She let out a cackle. “Ha! I knew it!” 
“I can’t act up on my feelings though, Rachel. We live miles apart. Being friends is already hard enough, I don’t even wanna know what being a couple would do to us. If Eric would reciprocate my feelings, that is.” 
“Would you believe me if I told you Eric is in love with you too?” 
“No.” 
“Well, he is! The way his eyes light up when he talks about you… It’s pure love. Sure, he can be a bit daft and he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but when he talks about you, he almost becomes poetic.” 
“You’re ridiculous,” I said and sipped from my beer again. 
Rachel shook her head at me. “See for yourself.” She pointed somewhere behind me and the second I turned around, Eric was in front of me with those big, sparkly eyes of his and that goofy smile I’d come to love. 
“Dance with me, baby!” he shouted and pulled me along to the dance floor. As I looked back at Rachel, she gave me a knowing look. She wasn’t right. She couldn’t be. 
“I need you to stay,” he slurred, clearly having drank one too many beers. “Please, can’t you stay?” 
“Eric,” I sighed, “You know I can’t. I’ve got –” 
“A degree to finish and friends to go back to, I know, I know…” 
I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I watched him. He was still moving, swaying from side to side to the music, but there was a lot less enthusiasm behind than before we started talking. 
“Hey,” I started and placed my hands on his shoulders. “You know I would stay if I could, right? I just – I can’t, Eric.” 
“Yes, you can, y/n. You can stay here, transfer to Pennbrook, live with me and Jack and Rachel. Be here. With me.” 
His offer sounded alluring. A little too alluring. The alcohol coursing in my veins almost made me say ‘yes’, but the sober part of me knew that wouldn’t be a good idea. “I need a better reason than that, Eric.”
“I’ve got more reasons for you to stay.” 
“Gimme one.” 
Before I could properly process what was happening, Eric grabbed my face and pressed his lips to mine in a deep kiss. As we pulled apart for a moment, I had to take a breather and process what had just happened. 
“That’s a good reason,” I whispered before kissing him again. 
I didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the fact that we’d actually wanted to do that for a long time, but the rest of the night we spent together, making out in a corner of the club until Rachel and Jack pulled us apart and brought us back to the apartment. Eric and I fell asleep together on the couch, cuddled up. The place where I’d wanted to fall asleep for months now. The place where I belonged.
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It felt weird waking up in his arms. Not that we hadn’t done that before, but the events that preceded it were new. I hadn’t ever been kissed the way Eric had kissed me last night. It was with so much passion and love that filled up all my senses, that sobered me up almost straight away. 
Though, when he woke, it was like nothing happened. 
He didn’t speak about it, and changed the subject whenever I tried to. I didn’t know what had gone wrong. It was probably a mistake on his part. He probably didn’t want to kiss me. It was probably the alcohol speaking and not his heart. He didn’t love me the same way I loved him. 
It was all a mistake. 
“How was your night?” Alan asked playfully when we entered the Matthews’ kitchen for lunch on Sunday. 
“Good! We had fun,” I replied and glanced over at Eric. He had jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he moved over towards the fridge. 
“It was okay,” he spoke and shoved a knife right through my chest. 
I had no clue what I had done wrong or what had gone wrong. All I knew was that Eric was giving me the cold shoulder. The kiss must’ve been a mistake. It must’ve been something he didn’t even want to do and it was just the alcohol taking over. And now it had ruined our entire friendship. 
“When’s your flight back home?” Amy queried. 
I placed my knife and fork down as I had just finished the delicious lunch Amy had made all of us. “Tonight at eight,” I responded with a nervous smile. My stomach churned when I felt Eric tense up next to me. 
“Back to Northridge then, huh? Must be a big change going from cold Philadelphia back to warm and sunny LA,” Alan said with a smile and I nodded my head. 
“It’s gonna be quite the di–” before I could finish my sentence, Eric had shoved his chair back and without uttering a word, he stormed out of the kitchen. I could feel my heart break in my chest. He seemed angry. Frustrated. All of the things I didn’t want him to be before I went back to LA.
“I’ll go check on him,” I said and carefully slid my chair back before following Eric outside. 
He sat on the cushioned bench where we have had many a talk before as the sun set and the stars appeared into the sky. Though right now, it seemed awfully dark and gloomy. Nothing like what it used to feel like. 
“Eric, are you okay?” I plopped down next to him, placing my hand on his shoulder. 
He scoffed. “No, I’m not okay. You know, I didn’t ask you to come here. I didn’t ask you to visit me. I didn’t ask and so I couldn’t prepare for you to leave… Again.” 
“Eric, I’m sorry. I thought it would be nice to surprise you. I–” I stopped talking as soon as he shot up from the bench and took a few steps away from me. He looked angry and sad at the same time and it broke my heart even further. 
“Don’t you know how much it kills me to see you go every time? But at least in the summer, I can prep myself for the goodbye that’s about to follow. I can prep myself for the heartache and now that I didn’t see it coming, I’m not ready for you to go.” 
I opened my mouth to say something else, but before I could, he gave me another glare and then stormed off to God-knows-where. I couldn’t move. I was frozen to the bench. My best friend just yelled at me and ran off. I didn’t even say goodbye to him. 
“Miss y/l/n, what a surprise,” a familiar voice sounded, causing me to snap my head towards the older man that stood in the next-door garden on the other side of the white fence. 
I smiled at him, but I knew it wasn’t genuine and I knew he knew it wasn’t. “Hey Mister Feeny.” 
“Are you okay?” he asked and opened the small gate. He made a beeline towards me and sat down on the bench next to me. 
I heaved in a deep breath, breathing in the familiarity of my old teacher. “No, I –” I mulled over my words. “I missed Eric, so I came to surprise him but I think it might’ve not been such a good idea.” 
“Why not?”
“‘Cause now he’s mad at me because he couldn’t prepare himself for me leaving…” I mumbled, focusing on the rings on my fingers as I twisted them around and around. “I don’t know what to do, Mister Feeny. I wanna stay with Eric, but I’ve got a life in LA. I’ve got friends and I’ve got Northridge and my family still lives there too…” 
I looked up to see my favorite teacher regard me with such a tender and familiar look. He felt sorry for me and I also knew there was a  pep-talk coming in a few seconds. Though at that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was in the mood for that pep-talk. 
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Miss Lawrence when she came to me with her dilemma,” he started wistfully, the only way Mister Feeny ever spoke. “You stay at Northridge unless you have a good reason not to.” 
My mind immediately went to last night’s events when Eric kissed me after he told me he had reasons for me to stay. If I had a reason, it would be Eric. Eric would be the one and only reason for me to move back to Philadelphia and I couldn’t lie when I said Eric weighs out every other reason I had for going back to LA. 
“I think you know what to do, Miss y/l/n,” he said before placing a comforting hand on my shoulder and getting up again. 
“Hey, Mister Feeny,” he stopped halfway to his house. “You’re a good teacher, you know that?” The genuine and heartwarming smile that curled Feeny’s lips upwards made me feel nostalgic. I had missed that man. 
“Thank you, Miss y/l/n. And you’re a good student.” 
As Mister Feeny returned to his home, I couldn’t help but think everything over. Every thought, every moment of the past weekend seeped back into my mind. There was only one way to stop my thoughts and I knew exactly what it was.  
“Y/N?” His voice caused me to snap out of my thoughts. There he was. Finally. “What are you still doing here?” he asked, visibly getting nervous. “I thought you’d gone home?” 
 I patted the spot next to me on the cushioned bench. Eric hesitantly took the spot, but I could tell he was tense and didn’t quite know what to do. He didn’t look at me and his hands fiddled around in his lap. 
“I am home.” 
Now he looked up at me. Confusion was written all over his face, a look I had seen on him before. The reminder of everything I ever told him that confused him made me giggle a little. 
“What do you mean? Don’t you have to get back to LA? Back home?” He turned his face back to the sky. It was starting to get dark out and the stars above us were starting to make an appearance, along with the bright moon. 
“I talked to Feeny and he told me that I should go back to Northridge…” I watched Eric’s jaw clench. “Unless I had a good reason not to.” 
He turned his head to face me again. “Is there a good reason?” 
I sighed. “I thought about it. I’ve got reasons to go back. Like my degree and my friends out there, my family…” Eric slowly nodded his head and I knew his mind was already preparing him for me to say I was going to go back. “But there’s one reason that makes me wanna stay here. One reason that outweighs all the other reasons.”
“And what’s that?” 
A soft smile befell my lips as I leaned in and cautiously pressed my lips to his. Last night’s memories seeped back into my mind. 
“You’re the reason, Eric Matthews.” 
He smiled as his eyes darted from mine to my lips and back before he fully kissed me on the lips. I couldn’t help but giggle before melting completely into the kiss, into him. After years of being best friends and months of pining for him, I was finally kissing my best friend. I had finally given into my feelings. 
And I was making the right decision. I knew that now. I knew that moving back to Philadelphia would be the right choice. I would be moving back home. Back with Eric. Close to Cory and Shawn and Jack and Topanga. All of my friends from when we were younger. Home. 
The only thing left to do now was break the news to my friends in LA… 
But that was a problem for later. 
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junghelioseok · 3 years
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clandestine. | 02
↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.
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◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7k [2/6]
notes: looks like it’s a writing/editing kinda day, folks! hope you enjoy this installment, and let me know what you think! 
warnings: jk’s massive noona kink: a recurring yet warranted warning, jeon jungkook is a goddamn tease, smuuuut, oral (f receiving), jk’s got a big dick whoOPS, minimally edited bc i’m feeling lazy
⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 
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Morning brings with it bright sunshine and fresh horror as the events of the previous evening come rushing back. You aren’t sure you’ll ever be able to look Jeon Jungkook in the eye again—or at least, not without being reminded of the way he’d plagued every single one of your dreams with devilish eyes and even more devilish fingers. Groaning, you scrub at your temples, as if that will help dispel the memories. After a few fruitless moments, you crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom, intent on washing everything away with a good, cold shower.
Try as you might, though, you simply cannot avoid your dark-haired neighbor. You’re in the kitchen sipping at your second coffee of the day and debating what you want for lunch when there’s a knock on the front door—a familiar rhythm that has your heart stuttering. “It’s open!” Jimin yells from the living room, and a moment later, the devil himself strolls in, wearing a plain black t-shirt with ripped jeans and well-worn Timberlands. Vaguely, you wonder when he made the switch from white tees to black, but your musings are cut short when he spots you in the kitchen, an impish grin settling across his face.
“Hey, Noona.”
“Hey.” You thank whatever god may be out there that your voice is steady. “Jimin’s in the living room.”
Jungkook tilts his head coyly and takes a step forward. “What makes you think I’m here for Jimin? Maybe I came to see you.”
Anxiously, you swallow down the memories of his warm hands that are trying to resurface. “I highly doubt that.”
“Really?” Jungkook takes another step forward and plucks the coffee mug from your hands. “What if I came over to finish what I started last night?”
Heat floods across your face. “That—that was… I mean, I don’t—”
“You don’t what?” Jungkook asks, raising a brow. “Want me? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a lie, Noona.” Quietly, he closes the last bit of distance between you, and when he speaks again you can feel his warm breath fanning across your cheeks with every word. “You see, I think you want me. Just as much as I want you. Am I wrong?”
“Jungkook, we—”
“Dude, what’s taking you so long?” Jimin’s head suddenly pops around the doorway, and you nearly jump out of your skin in your effort to put some distance between you and your dark-haired neighbor. “I’m about to start the game without you.”
“Just wanted to grab some coffee and say hi to {Name},” Jungkook replies, raising your half-empty mug to his lips and taking a sip. “Did you want to join us, Noona? It’d be fun to watch you kick Jimin’s ass at Mario Kart again.”
You swallow, hard. “I can’t. I’ve got homework to do.” Not strictly true, perhaps, but you’d been planning on looking over the details of your internship again at some point, and now seems as good a time as any. “Sorry,” you add quickly, seeing Jungkook’s disbelieving expression.
“Summer homework? Gross.” Jimin pulls a face. “You’re still coming to Tae’s party though, right?”
You nod, unwillingly catching Jungkook’s eye again. He’s still sipping at your coffee, and you don’t miss the flagrant wink he shoots you over the rim of the cup. “See you later then, Noona,” he says, his voice practically a purr.
“Right,” you respond dully, your heart skipping a beat at the dark promise in his stare. “Later.”
Jimin and Jungkook disappear down the hall, but you remain rooted in the kitchen for a few minutes longer, listening as the music of whatever video game they’ve decided on starts playing from the living room. Heaving a sigh, you fetch a new mug from the cupboard and pour yourself some more coffee, grabbing an apple and a bag of chips as well. Taking everything up to your bedroom, you pull out your laptop and make yourself comfortable on your bed, plugging in some headphones to drown out the noise from downstairs. With any luck, you won’t have to see Jungkook again until you have to leave for Taehyung’s party, and you’re pretty sure that it’ll be easy to avoid him once you’re there.
In fact, you’re certain of it.
So with that thought in mind, you settle down with your coffee and open up Netflix, sinking into the pillows and pushing your dark-haired neighbor into the deepest recesses of your mind. It isn’t until your phone starts vibrating insistently against your thigh that you are startled out of your binge-watching, the screen lit up with two new notifications. Surprised, you realize that hours have passed, the sky outside your window deepening into the hazy blue of nighttime.
[6:02pm] Jungkook: you hungry, noona?
[6:02pm] Jungkook: for pizza, i mean. we ordered dinner
[6:03pm] Jungkook: but i’ll be your dessert if you want me ;)
You drop your phone as if burned, his final message playing over and over in your mind. It takes you a full minute to gather your wits again, stowing your device in your pocket without responding and carefully picking your way downstairs. Already, you can smell the cheesy grease, your stomach growling in anticipation.
Just grab the pizza and go, you think to yourself, formulating your escape plan and double-checking it for any holes. Dine and dash.
You’re walking past the foyer when there’s suddenly a knock on the front door. Curiously, you answer it, swinging it open to see a familiar grinning face standing on the doorstep. Lee Taemin is a good friend of Jimin’s, and your brother pokes his head out from the kitchen at the sound of your greeting, clearly expecting the new guest.
“Taemin! Get in here and have some pizza,” Jimin says, his mouth full. “You too, Noona. We got plenty.”
Instead of immediately heading for the food, Taemin wraps you in a hug that has you wheezing for air. “Long time no see, huh? How’ve you been?”
You squirm in his tight embrace, raised to your tiptoes. “Put me down, you heathen. I’m fine right now, but I won’t be if you suffocate me.”
Taemin chortles good-naturedly and releases his grip, ruffling your hair. “Good to see you too, {Name}. Honestly, it hasn’t been the same around here without you. How long are you back for? The whole summer?”
You shake your head. “Just a couple weeks. I’ve got to get back for an internship.”
“Already a hotshot, huh?” Taemin grins. “What are you going to be doing?”
The topic of your summer job is a welcome distraction from the way Jungkook’s dark gaze trails after you as you tread into the kitchen alongside Taemin, slapping two slices of pizza onto a plate and glancing around for a napkin. You can feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull, prickling your skin with electricity, but continue your conversation with Taemin as if nothing is amiss.
“You gonna sit down or what?” Taemin gives you a quizzical glance as he pulls a chair out from the table, joining Jimin and Jungkook who are already seated. You do your best to ignore the way Jungkook’s jaw flexes with every chew, somehow managing to look infuriatingly handsome despite the mouth full of dough and pizza grease staining his chin.
“I—” Your mind whirs, searching for the excuse you had planned. “—I still have some work to do. Reading and whatnot.”
“Nerd,” Jimin snorts.
Taemin shrugs. “Okay, then. Suit yourself, I guess.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything. But you feel his eyes burning into your skin as you head back upstairs, and it isn’t until you are safely back in your bedroom, sagging against the closed door, that you can finally breathe properly again.
///
You end up departing for the party nearly twenty minutes after the official start time of eight o’clock, caving to Jimin’s insistence on being fashionably late. Personally, you think he just wanted the extra time to work on his hair—making sure every strand is perfectly, effortlessly tousled—and call him out on it as he locks the front door behind you.
“I didn’t spend that long on my hair,” Jimin sniffs defensively. “Besides, you’re the one who needed to run back in and get your wallet. What do you even need your wallet for? We’re walking like, four blocks.”
“Better safe than sorry,” you retort. “What if I get murdered and they need to identify my body? What if I get mugged? You never know!”
Taemin falls into step beside you. “What if we need to tip a stripper?” he chimes in.
You nod and raise your hand for a high-five without taking your eyes off your brother. “Exactly! You have to tip your sex workers, Chim!”
Jimin waggles a suggestive eyebrow. “I think I’d rather give them a different ti—”
You push him off the sidewalk before he can finish speaking, pulling a face as he stumbles into the street in a fit of laughter. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, you perv!”
The remainder of the short walk to Taehyung’s house passes uneventfully. Jimin doesn’t bother knocking, throwing open the door like he owns the place, and you trail after him with Taemin and Jungkook on your heels. Immediately, you’re assailed by a cacophonous sea of conversation and thumping music, people milling around in the dimly lit interior.
“There you are!” The voice comes from your left, and you barely have time to register the speaker’s face before she’s gasping and engulfing you in a hug. “{Name}, you made it! Hi!”
You laugh, squeezing her back. “Hi, Chaeyoung. It’s good to see you. Sorry I didn’t catch you at graduation.”
“Oh please,” she says, waving you off. “We have all the time in the world to catch up now. Let’s get you away from these boys and find you a drink, shall we?” Flipping a lock of strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, she loops her arm through yours and begins steering you toward the kitchen. “So what are you in the mood for? The beer’s shit, so I’d stay away from anything in the cooler, but everything else is actually drinkable.”
“Shocking,” you remark, peering at the mess of bottles and cups lining the kitchen counter. There’s a massive bowl of a horrifyingly neon green concoction as well, and you take one whiff before backing away again, nose wrinkling in disgust. “I see Tae’s still making punch.”
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” Chaeyoung advises. “He’s somehow managed to make it twice as sugary and three times more alcoholic than last year’s. Pretty sure it’s worse than moonshine at this point.”
You grin and locate an empty cup, raising it in her direction. “Thanks for the heads up.”
Chaeyoung refills her own drink, and you settle on a simple blend of cranberry juice and vodka. Together, you head back in the direction of the living room, where Jisoo and Lisa are chattering away on a couch in the corner. They look up at your arrival, greeting you with smiles and hugs, and quickly usher you into a seat beside them.
“So,” Jisoo begins, leaning forward. “How’s college?”
“Tell us everything,” Lisa adds, propping her chin in her palm. “Is it nice living away from home?”
Jisoo waggles her brows. “Forget that. Have you met any guys?”
Unbidden, Jungkook springs to the forefront of your mind, dark eyes staring at you from beneath equally dark hair as he leans down, down, down—
“Nope!” you blurt before your thoughts can progress any further. “I mean, I share a suite with a couple guys, but that doesn’t count.”
“Are they cute?” Lisa prods.
“They must be more mature than these high school boys,” Chaeyoung sighs.
“Hardly,” you snort. “Don’t get your hopes up.”
The gossip continues. More people arrive as the night wears on, the living room filling up with dancing bodies. A few girls you don’t know join in your conversation, perching on armrests and ottomans and the carpeted floor as a last resort. Across the hall in the dining room, you spot Taemin setting up a table for beer pong, a triumphant shout going up when Taehyung procures an unopened package of balls from somewhere in the hall closet.
“This is gonna be tournament style, got it?” he announces as he tears the package open. “Winner goes up against the undefeated champs—Jungkook and Yugyeom!”
Even from your comfy seat on the couch, you can see the arrogant twist of Jungkook’s mouth as he leans over to give Yugyeom a high-five. You can’t tear your eyes away from the way he tongues his cheek, lounging back into a chair to watch the first round of the game. Jimin steps forward alongside Taehyung, and you watch as your brother scrutinizes the pyramid of cups, poised to make a throw that lifts his shirt just enough to expose a flash of his admittedly toned abdomen.
“He wore that shirt on purpose,” Jisoo accuses, and you huff out a sound that’s more snort than laugh.
“Please, it’s just the only shirt he owns that isn’t dirty. Trust me.”
“I don’t even care,” another girl you don’t know the name of pipes up. “I’d still let him blow my back out.”
You grimace. “And on that note, I suddenly need another drink,” you announce, to giggles. Wrenching out of your cozy seat between Jisoo and Lisa, you wave your near empty cup in farewell and make your way toward the kitchen, carefully skirting around the dancers and beer pong spectators spilling out into the hallway.
The kitchen is deserted when you walk in, everyone having flocked to the dining room to watch the beer pong tournament. Humming along to the music, you open up the fridge and survey its contents, hoping to find something decent. Curiously, you pick your way past a few cans before turning a dark glass bottle around to read the label.
“Are you avoiding me, Noona?”
The voice comes from behind you, deep and sinfully resonant, and you don’t even have to turn around to know that he’s standing just inches away. His breath ruffles through the hair at the nape of your neck, sending gooseflesh prickling across your skin, and when strong hands curl gently around your hips you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.
“I missed you, y’know,” he continues, his mouth finding its way to your ear and nipping lightly at the lobe. “You didn’t talk to me all day, even though I was right there in your house. Ran like a scared little rabbit when you saw me in the kitchen, didn’t you?” Softly, his lips ghost along the column of your throat, pressing a kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. “So, now what? Are you gonna run from me again?”
You don’t think you could if you tried. Your feet are rooted firmly in place, your entire body frozen as you await whatever he’ll do next. And when he urges you to spin around and face him, you obey immediately, your hands coming up to splay against his chest as he presses even closer and rewards your compliance with a kiss.
“Jungkook,” you breathe against his parted lips. “Jungkook, god.”
Slowly, he trails down your neck, leaving soft nips in his wake. “Yes, Noona?”
“We can’t,” you whisper, even as your head falls back to allow him more access to your clavicle. “Jungkook, we can’t do this.”
Your companion raises his head then, his dark gaze meeting yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly. His thumbs dip beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles into the soft skin of your waist, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. “If that’s what you want, Noona, just tell me to stop and I will. I promise.”
He’s palming along your hips now. The warmth of his palms seeps into your body, rendering it increasingly difficult to concentrate. His mouth returns to your neck as he awaits your answer, and you don’t miss the way his lips curl into a smirk against the delicate skin of your collarbone when you hesitate a moment too long.
“Well, Noona?”
Fuck it. Your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. “Jungkook, kiss me,” you breathe, throwing all remaining remnants of caution to the wind.
Jungkook straightens up to his full height, his smirk widening. “Anything for you, princess,” he remarks before leaning down, winding one hand in your hair and finding purchase in the curve of your waist with the other. The newfound pet name ignites a tendril of heat in the pit of your belly, and when Jungkook finally closes the gap between your lips, you release a breathy moan that he eagerly swallows. The hand in your hair tightens its grip to pull you even closer, tongues and teeth clashing as he deepens the kiss.
It’s only when the need for air becomes critical that you break away from him with a gasp, your lungs aching. Jungkook isn’t faring much better, his chest heaving beneath the thin white material of his t-shirt. He releases his grip on your hair, his thumb grazing across your cheek gently instead, and when he leans in to plant another kiss on your mouth, you exhale shakily. “God, Jungkook.”
His arm tightens around your waist. “What do you need, princess?” he asks, and you can’t deny your delight at his continued use of the nickname. His teeth find the lobe of your ear again, and you release a breathy moan as he delivers a particularly sharp nip to the soft flesh before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the sensitive spot just below it. “Tell me. Tell me, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll give you anything you want.”
You slide your hands along his broad shoulders and up to his nape, brushing the silver hoops in his ears before tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “You’re teasing me.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue and pulls away, your arms falling uselessly to your sides as he takes a step back. “I just need to hear you say it, Noona,” he chides, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. “I need to hear you say that you want this. That you want me.”
A shiver dances up your spine, and you aren’t sure whether it’s due to his wicked lilt or the sudden absence of his body heat. “I want you,” you whisper, reaching out to touch him. “Jungkook, please.”
The smirk that spreads across his face is absolutely devastating. “Then come with me,” he commands softly, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. You leave behind the thumping music and the loud chatter of the party, allowing Jungkook to pull you into one of several rooms lining the hallway and squeaking when he shuts the door and immediately pins you against it. His mouth slants across yours, hot and urgent, and you moan into the kiss as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Jungkook breathes, pulling away just enough to whisper the words against your lips. “Fuck, princess, look at this tiny little skirt you’re wearing. You’ve been killing me all night, you know that?”
He punctuates the words with another kiss, nipping harshly at your bottom lip. His hands slide down to the curve of your ass, and you gasp when he scoops you up effortlessly. “Legs around my waist,” he orders, readjusting his grip as he begins walking you further into the room.
It’s the laundry room, you realize upon closer inspection. Jungkook’s busy mouthing at your neck, but he breaks away with a smirk when he finally reaches his destination, plopping you down atop the cool metal of the washing machine. “Shame there’s nothing in here,” he remarks, kicking the side softly. “I really wanna fuck you with this thing running one day. But for now…” His smirk widens, his hands settling on your knees. “This’ll do.”
In an instant, he’s pushed up your skirt and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down and off your legs. He drops to his knees, smoothing his hands along your inner thighs, and your cheeks flush when he urges you to spread them further. “Jungkook—“ you mumble, thoroughly embarrassed as he stares reverently at your exposed core, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “Quit staring at me like that.”
“I can’t help it,” he murmurs, leaning in and pressing a soft trail of kisses along your thigh. “You’re so beautiful, Noona.”
“You…”
You trail off, unsure of what to say. What do you say when your little brother’s best friend is staring at you like you’re a desert oasis and he’s been wandering, dehydrated, for days? What do you say when the scrawny neighbor kid you’d grown up with is caressing every inch of your legs, soothing the soft skin with his fingers and lips?
What do you say when you realize, once and for all, that Jeon Jungkook is undoubtedly—unabashedly—a man now?
You swallow, hard. Jungkook is nearing your core now, his hair tickling your thighs, and you gasp when he slides a finger up your slit experimentally. “You’re so wet,” he breathes. “So wet, and so—” He touches the pad of his finger to his tongue, grinning up at you as he laps up your essence. “—delicious. Fuck. You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”
And then he leans forward, boldly licking a stripe up the length of your entrance. Strong arms wind around your legs to hold you open, and when he shoves his face even deeper, his nose brushing against your clit, you let out a strangled whimper. “Fuck, Jungkook—”
The sound of his name draws a pleased hum from the young man nestled between your thighs, rumbling through his chest and straight to your core. Your walls clench, but Jungkook stubbornly refuses to dip his tongue inside. Instead, he teases at your folds, spreading them apart with two fingers and licking ardently at your leaking juices before kissing a short trail up to your clit. “Can you cum like this?” he asks curiously, thumbing across the sensitive bundle of nerves.
His answer comes in the form of a breathy gasp, your hips jerking upward to seek out more friction. Jungkook chuckles and obliges your silent request, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours as he begins rubbing slow circles around your bud. “Guess that’s a yes,” he murmurs, pressing yet another kiss to your thigh. His gaze remains locked on yours as he rubs a little harder, dragging your juices up from your slit and digging in deep until you are moaning aloud, your hands coming down to fist in his silky hair.
“I-I’m close,” you keen. “Please, Jungkook, please.”
Jungkook hums and leans back. At the same time, he slides two fingers inside you, curling them upward, and the sudden surge of fullness is more than enough to tip you over the edge. His name escapes your lips in a garbled moan, your walls spasming around his hand as he continues teasing your clit, drawing out your orgasm until you finally whine from oversensitivity and bat him away. Obediently, he withdraws, rising to his feet so that he towers over you once more.
“Holy fuck,” he murmurs, staring down at you with an expression caught somewhere between awestruck wonder and unbridled hunger. “You’re so pretty when you cum. So pretty and perfect and—” He swallows, his throat bobbing harshly. “God, I need to fuck you. Can I fuck you now, Noona? Will you let me stretch open this pretty little pussy and fill you up with my cock?”
Your breath hitches. Never in a million years could you have imagined that your brother’s mild-mannered best friend could have such a filthy mouth, but you cannot hide the way your core clenches at his words. Slowly, you raise your arms, winding them around his neck to pull him closer. “Yes,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his. “Fuck me, Jungkook.”
A groan escapes him, deep and cavernous in a way that sends heat spiking through your veins. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time, his mouth chasing after yours as one hand finds the back of your head, pulling you into a bruising kiss. The other slides down to the waistband of his jeans, freeing himself from the confines of the denim. He doesn’t break the kiss for a moment, even as he grabs your hips and pulls you closer. It isn’t until you’re seated on the very edge of the washing machine, wrapping your legs around his waist to steady yourself, that you pull away and let your gaze fall to his newly revealed cock. Jungkook is long and deliciously thick, and you let out a shaky breath when you see the pearlescent white drops beading at the swollen tip.
“Oh my god.” The words bubble up automatically, escaping you in an airy whisper. “How are you so big?”
Jungkook huffs out a hoarse chuckle, amusement glittering in his dark irises. “Think you can take all of me, princess?”
Your gaze falls down to his length again, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “Put on a condom, and let’s find out.”
Jungkook grins and produces a little foil wrapper from somewhere in his back pocket, tearing into it with his teeth. You help him roll the condom over his cock, and as soon as it’s in place, he’s lining himself up and pushing inside you. A deep groan escapes him as he parts your walls inch by torturous inch, and you moan as your pussy is stretched to its limit, molding to his shape and sheer size. By the time he bottoms out, he’s almost prodding at your cervix, and you grab breathlessly at his bicep.
“I—I need a minute,” you gasp, your body spasming around him as you fight to adjust to the surge of fullness.
“Me too,” Jungkook rasps, his voice strained. His eyes flutter shut as he inhales deeply through his nose, cursing again when you clench around him unconsciously. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”
For a few moments, there’s only the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder. His breath is hot against the exposed skin of your clavicle, and you sigh when you feel him mouthing at the delicate skin, nipping softly before soothing across it with his tongue.
At the sound, Jungkook raises his head, dark eyes meeting yours before dropping down to where the two of you are joined. “God, you look so good like this,” he murmurs, licking his lips. “So pretty, stuffed full of my cock.”
You clench around him again—this time more purposefully. Jungkook’s mouth falls open, a silent question on the tip of his tongue, and you answer it with a deliberate roll of your hips, wordlessly encouraging him to move. Gingerly, he obeys, retreating until only the head of his erection remains inside you. His hand drops down to your clit, and you keen out his name when he surges forward at the same time he flicks his thumb across the sensitive nub. Pleasure licks at your spine, replacing the discomfort. Jungkook lets out a pleased hum.
Slowly, he works up a rhythm, keeping his thrusts shallow as he begins rubbing circles around your clit again. With his other hand, he slides the straps of your top down your shoulders, tugging the bodice down just enough to free your breasts. Your nipples harden at the exposure, and a moan escapes you when he immediately takes one between his fingers, rolling and pinching at the peak. The additional stimulation, paired with the heavy drag of his cock along your walls and his insistent thumb on your clit, has you teetering dangerously close to the edge, your tummy tensing.
“Jungkook—” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. He grunts in response and picks up the pace, rolling even more fervently up into your clenching heat, and you gasp when a particularly hard thrust sends you scooting backward atop the washing machine. “Fuck! I’m close, Jungkook.”
“Me too,” he grits out. “Come on, princess, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go for me one more time—”
And with one final flick of his wrist and a thrust that’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, you come completely undone, spasming wildly around his cock. It all proves too much for Jungkook, who’s groaning right alongside you as he reaches his high, spilling into the condom. He chants your name like a prayer as his hips gradually still, and his lips seek out yours almost instinctively as his cock softens inside you. The kiss is lazy and languid, contentment settling in your veins. Jungkook wraps you up in a warm embrace, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to explore.
It isn’t until a loud cheer rises up from the front of the house that you snap out of your blissful haze. “We should get back to the party,” you mumble into the kiss, pushing against Jungkook’s chest when he only pulls you closer. “Jungkook, come on. People are gonna get suspicious if we’re gone too long.”
“You know what else will make people suspicious? You, coming out like that.” He gestures at the skirt hiked up around your waist, a slow smirk playing at his lips as he gives you a once-over, his gaze lingering on the wet sheen streaking your inner thighs. “As much as I’m enjoying the view.”
You swat his arm. “Stop that!”
Jungkook snickers and bends down to pick up your discarded panties, swinging them around his index finger. “Stop what?”
“Oh my god, Jungkook.”
Cackling, he returns the lacy undergarment to you, watching as you pull the material up your legs. You adjust your shirt while he disposes of his condom, and when you hop off the washing machine, he offers you a hand that you gratefully accept, gripping his arm as you steady yourself on shaky legs.
“You should leave first,” you tell him, smoothing out the wrinkles in his t-shirt and relishing the way his muscles twitch beneath your fingertips. “It’ll look weird if we leave together, and I need to pee, anyway.”
Jungkook grins and catches your wrists, swooping down to plant a quick kiss on your mouth. “As you wish,” he says, offering you a playful wink.
Then he’s straightening back up to his full height, checking his pockets and running a hand through his mussed hair. You watch as he walks over to the door, putting his ear against it for a few seconds before determining that the coast is clear and slipping out into the hallway. As the door clicks shut behind him, you hear someone—you’re pretty sure it’s a drunk Yugyeom—greet him with a resounding clap on the back. “Dude, where have you been all night? We’re getting our asses handed to us. Minho and Taemin are winning.”
“Sorry, man,” Jungkook half-shouts, and you realize that he’s making sure you can hear him. “Come on. Let’s go get that crown.”
Leaning against the door, you listen as their voices recede down the hallway. You count to five, and then to ten when your thumping heart refuses to slow. At nineteen, it finally calms down—enough that you feel comfortable leaving the laundry room and slipping into the bathroom to clean yourself up.
There’s a massive crowd gathered in the dining room by the time you rejoin the party, and you easily slip unnoticed into the mass of people eagerly watching the final round of the beer pong tournament. Jungkook stands at the far end of the table beside Yugyeom, poised to throw.
He catches your eye at the same time he releases the ball with a flick of his wrist, a knowing smirk settling on his face as triumphant cheers break out all around you.
///
It’s well after midnight by the time the party begins to wind down. Chaeyoung and Lisa are nowhere to be found, and several other girls are lingering near the front door saying their goodbyes before heading out. You find yourself seated on the couch between Jimin and Minho, watching as the latter helps clean up by hurling beer cans at the wastebasket on the other end of the room.
“Man, no wonder you suck at pong.” Jungkook walks into the room and plops down on an end table, a faded cardboard Burger King crown sitting rakishly on his head. “Want me to show you how the champs do it?”
Minho snorts. “Fuck off, man, you barely won that second game. Besides, we totally would’ve won if Taemin hadn’t spent half the time staring at Lisa’s tits.”
Taemin, who’s perched on a corner of the coffee table, raises his hands innocently. “Hey, don’t look at me. I scored most of the points that round.”
Minho huffs irritably and tosses another can at the wastebasket, cursing when it bounces off the rim. Taehyung wanders in and picks it up, throwing it back at Minho before squeezing into the miniscule amount of space between you and Jimin on the couch.
“Jesus, Tae,” you grunt, shifting to give him more room. The movement tilts you toward Minho, smushing you against his side, and he shoots you a playful grin and a wink.
“Cozy?”
“Cozy,” you confirm with a laugh.
“Good,” he says, freeing his arm and throwing it across the back of the couch to give you a little more space. “It’s nice having you around again, Noona.”
Jungkook’s head whirls around so quickly you fear he might have given himself whiplash. His stare zeroes in on Minho’s arm, eyes narrowing at the proximity, but the other boy remains blissfully unaware as he leans back against the couch cushions. Subtly, you lean forward, trying to put some distance between your bodies.
“It’s nice to be back,” you tell him. “It feels like I missed so much, but at the same time, it’s like nothing’s changed.”
“Choi’s aim sure hasn’t changed,” Yugyeom remarks from the doorway with a handful of empty beer bottles. “Still can’t land a shot, even after all these years.” Raising a bottle, he hefts it toward the wastebasket, smirking in satisfaction when it sinks perfectly inside the can.
“And not just with pong,” Taemin goads. “How did things go with Sana again?”
Minho rolls his eyes. “Like you’re one to talk. Besides, we’d all probably stand a better chance if Jeon over there would leave some girls for the rest of us.”
“You’re just jealous because Sana likes him better than she likes you,” Taehyung says with a snicker. “Yo, Jeon! Didn’t you guys make it to third base at Jackson’s party?”
Your stomach sinks as all eyes in the room turn to Jungkook, whose eyes go wide at the sudden attention. “What?”
“Sa. Na,” Taehyung repeats, emphasizing each syllable. “Hottest girl in our year? Third base at Jackson’s? Or are you having a hard time remembering since you wound up leaving with Jihyo?”
Yugyeom chortles as he plops down onto the carpeted floor. “Fuck, man, I forgot about that. Jesus. Just last year you were still shitting yourself at the thought of talking to a girl. Who knew you secretly had so much game?”
The room is beginning to feel stifling. Every breath you take feels like you’re inhaling ash, like a volcano that has lain dormant for ages has suddenly and without warning erupted inside your chest.
He’s playing you. And even worse, it seems that this is a game he’s played before—many times, if his friends are to be believed. Your stomach turns at the thought.
From his perch on the end table, Jungkook scoffs out a stilted, staccato note. “Right. I guess any nonzero number would seem high to you guys, huh?”
Loud jeers break out from the surrounding boys, and you do your best to melt back into the couch cushions. The way you’re squished between Taehyung and Minho makes it impossible for you to find any leverage to stand, so you settle for leaning your head back and staring at the stucco ceiling, willing your heartbeat to slow. Gradually, the noise of the party fades into the background, as do the voices of your brother and his friends. It’s only when Jimin pokes your shoulder, singsonging your name, that you break out of your trance.
“What? Huh?”
“The lake house,” Jimin says, looking at you as if you’re stupid. “You down?”
You can only blink at him, repeating the words back to him dumbly. “The lake house?”
Jimin raises a brow. “Yeah, the lake house. You know, our lake house? The one we drive up to every summer? Where we’ve been vacationing since we were like, five?”
You scowl when he pinches your cheek like you’re a child again. “Yeah, I got that. What about it?”
A snort. “Jeez, have you been listening at all, Noona? We’re talking about going up there for a few days.”
“Oh,” you croak. Unwillingly, you find yourself glancing over at Jungkook, your face growing warm when you see him staring right back, his expression careful and composed. “Right.”
“You should come, Noona,” Taemin pipes up. “You’re here for the next few weeks, right? Might as well have some fun.”
“I don’t know—” you begin, but Jimin cuts you off with a raised finger and another pinch to your cheek.
“You can’t just do homework the whole time you’re here,” he says. “Come with us, Noona. Live a little.”
“It’ll help get your mind off your internship, too,” Jungkook remarks softly. “You deserve a break. Just a few days won’t hurt.”
The fact that he remembers your internship woes shouldn’t make your heart lurch. You know it shouldn’t, but you can’t help the way your chest swells dangerously. “Fine,” you concede, reaching over Taehyung to pinch Jimin’s cheek in retaliation. “I’ll come, I guess.”
Taehyung and Taemin cheer, and Minho wraps his arm around your shoulder and squeezes you tight. “We should invite the other girls,” he points out, chuckling when you splutter for air in his ironclad grasp and try in vain to shake him off. “Don’t want it to be a total sausage fest.”
“Penis party is a much better term,” Taehyung interjects helpfully. “It’s alliterative.”
“You want alliterative? How about a cock carnival?” Jimin supplies, before doubling over in giggles.
You huff, exasperated at the ludicrous turn in conversation. “I can’t believe I’m coming with you guys.”
Minho snickers. “Title of your sex tape,” he jokes, punctuating it with a suggestive eyebrow waggle that sobers your brother up immediately. Jimin straightens up and fixes Minho with a glare, and despite your brother’s smaller stature, the older boy still shrinks back slightly.
“Dude, that’s my sister.”
Minho raises his hands apologetically. “Sorry, sorry. Automatic response. My bad.”
You just roll your eyes. “Are you twelve? God. I don’t know how the girls put up with any of you.”
Gradually, the night draws to a close. The number of people milling about dwindles, and Taehyung fiddles with his phone, letting out a satisfied hum when he finds the playlist he wants. The music transforms into something low and smooth, the soft R&B beat filling the room. You feel your eyes begin to droop.
“We should probably head home,” Jimin says, stretching his arms lazily overhead. “Noona here has to get her beauty sleep, and I don’t feel like carrying her back if she falls asleep here.”
“Shut up, Chim,” you mumble, but there’s no real bite in your tone. Jimin just chuckles and stands up, tugging on your hand until you’re on your feet as well. Jungkook straightens up too, and together, you bid farewell to the others and head for the door.
“{Name}, wait a second.”
You turn at the sound of Jisoo’s voice, tilting your head curiously as she lays a gentle hand on your arm and ushers you off to the side. “Yeah?”
Jisoo casts a furtive glance around the hallway, lowering her voice to a murmur. “I see what’s going on with Jungkook,” she whispers once she’s sure the coast is clear.
You stiffen, your mouth opening and closing a few times before you manage to find your voice again. “You… you saw us?”
She nods. “He’s been watching you all night—it’d honestly be harder not to notice. I just…” She sighs and looks around again, missing the relief that must be etched across your expression as her gaze lingers on where Jungkook and Jimin are loitering by the door. “…just be careful, okay? Jungkook—he’s changed this past year. I mean, I don’t know if all the rumors are true, but… he’s not the same guy you probably remember. He went out with Chae for a few weeks, did she tell you that?”
At your look of horror, she sighs. “Figures. She hides it well, but I know she’s still torn up about how he ended it after they slept together. So watch out for him, okay? He’s a heartbreaker. And he never, ever stays until the morning.”
Every word that leaves her mouth stings, but you don’t let that show on your face. Instead, you force a smile and pat her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell her. “I’m not going to get involved with him.”
You repeat that to yourself the whole way home, trying not to focus on the young man a few paces away and the way you can still taste him on your tongue.
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stuckwith-harry · 3 years
Text
A/N: Listen, babes, I was straight up not planning on putting out fic this year, but a series of well-timed little accidents and a very sweet groupchat resulted in this flirty little guy. While I’m sorting out my organisational crisis over on Ao3, I’ll put it here, and now I will go and agonise over the 23 other writing projects on my desk, cool? Cool. I’ve no real content warnings, it’s only banter, although the banter is not what the kids might call family-friendly.
look at what a heart can do / i’m starting to get to you
Silence has begun to come easily.
They’ve opened the window over Ginny’s bed, and cool late-summer air comes spilling in like handfuls of water, moving through the loose shirt she’s slipped into. She’s sitting cross-legged on her mattress, her back to the window, her knees bumping into Harry’s legs, her fingers drumming on his knee in a slow, tipsy rhythm, lilting and lazy like the pitter-patter on her windowpane. Afterwards, she can’t say whether a few minutes or an hour passed this way, only that it was time spent simply sitting and breathing and shifting beside each other, exchanging glances like secret handshakes, knowing grins.
Harry is flipping through the Quidditch magazine that usually resides on Ginny’s nightstand, his thumb absent-mindedly scratching at his bottom lip, his bare back leaning against her headboard. His face is softer without his glasses – like she’s catching him asleep – and still covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Every once in a while, he turns the journal over to point something out to her, like –
“Look at this one.”
So Ginny leans over the open page and peers at the model he’s indicating. “D’you think it’s weird that they’ve got it listed as a Chaser broom?”, she asks quietly, meeting his eye. “Sure, it’s speedy, but look at the inertia, that’s a better fit for a –”
“Beater”, they say in unison, grinning, and settle back into silence. Outside, the night is complete and starlit, the rain showers are warm and brief, and time is passing at a languid pace, not in any hurry to end.
Ginny finally gives up on her novel after she makes it to the bottom of the page for the third time in a row without any of it sticking, resigning herself to the fact that her thoughts are elsewhere. More precisely, they’re stretched out next to her in a pair of boxershorts, squinting at a line-up of the most anticipated broomstick releases of September 1998.
She rests her chin on her hand, her elbow on her knee, quietly looking over at him. His hair, she thinks. His hair is impossible.
He notices.
“What?”, he says softly, gazing back.
Ginny hums. “I have a question.”
Harry raises an eyebrow.
“Was tonight the first time you did … that?”, she asks.
He suddenly takes great interest in the pattern of Ginny’s quilt, picking at a piece of lint she’s pretty sure is imaginary. She thinks she can see a flush creeping up his neck, too.
“Which part?”, he asks, then, making a face: “Pretend I didn’t say that. The answer’s yes either way – yeah. Yes. I figured it was fairly obvious.”
“It wasn’t, actually”, Ginny says, “that’s why I was curious.”
This does nothing to lessen the way his face is heating up, but with the way he’s grinning to himself, she decides she needn’t feel too sorry for him. “I’m gonna … take that as a compliment, then.”
Ginny grins back. “Oh, you should. It is.”
He clears his throat, not quite meeting her eye. “Have … you?”
She shakes her head, shrugging.
“Huh.”
She squints, smile intact. “Surprised, are you?”
His face hovers in a place between trepidation and something that looks a little like bashfulness, but isn’t. It’s funny, she thinks, he should look bashful. Not very long ago, he would have, but now … she turns her head, searching his features. There’s newness in every slight movement of his mouth. In the intensity with which he looks at her.
“No – and it wouldn’t matter”, he starts, with that bout of sincerity he gets on occasion that makes Ginny weak in the knees. “You just, uhm …”
Ah, she thinks, there is it. Bashfulness in heaps.
“You were good at it”, he says, sounding breathless.,
“Well, thanks”, she says, feeling inexplicably warm. “So were you.”
He squints at her, then looks back at Broomsticks Monthly. “Alright, try not to sound too surprised.”
“I’m not surprised you’re good at it!”, she laughs. “I just wasn’t expecting to, ah – score a goal – the first time we did that.”
Harry peers up at her, the colour of his face roughly resembling their old Gryffindor Quidditch uniforms. Ginny wiggles an eyebrow.
“When would I ever have – who would I have done anything with?”
“You’re telling me you and Cho never reconnected in an abandoned broom closet after things went downhill?”
He seems simply stunned at the idea. “No. Definitely not.”
“It’s not a ridiculous assumption”, Ginny says, amused.
“Her and I only – come to think of it, I’m pretty sure we only kissed the one time. And she was – well, sad all the time, wasn’t she, and I was –”
“Seething all the time”, she says cheerfully. “Fair enough.”
He gazes back at her, visibly mulling something over.
“You and Dean never did anything?”
Ginny throws a pillow at him.
Harry catches.
“You needled me too!”
Which Ginny, unfortunately, cannot argue with.
“No, we really didn’t.” She watches his face for a reaction, for a hint of relief, or smugness maybe, but to his credit, there is none. “I think he wanted to, though.”
Harry makes a face.
“Alright, relax”, she grins. “I’d spare you the details, but there quite literally aren’t any.”
He slouches back, propped up on one elbow buried deep in her pillow, the deep orange glow from the lamp on her nightstand casting his face in soft shadows, in warm hues. Ginny continues to watch him. He’s squinting into Broomsticks Monthly again, but his eyes are not moving along the page, so she knows he noticed.
After a moment, he sighs.
“You’re not going to let it go, are you?”
Ginny merely hums in response, and it dissolves into ripples of soft laughter at his expression. There it is again. That newness in his face.
“You … made it pretty easy.”
“Hm?”
“Your face”, he says finally, with a quiet rasp in his voice that tugs pleasantly at Ginny’s insides, “is … extremely readable. It wasn’t that hard to figure out what was … working for you.”
Ginny stares at him, stunned, and he at least has the good sense to look a little abashed.
“Your face is extremely readable”, she mutters.
Harry grins. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s a good thing.”
“No, I mean it”, she says, throwing her head back, peering down at him with a grin. “You were pretty readable too. Very transparent.”
“I’m just saying, it wasn’t all me.”
In the moment’s silence that follows, while they effortlessly reassemble their limbs, Ginny’s eyes come to linger on the long-abandoned camp bed on the floor beside her bed, whose only function now is to keep up the ruse for her parents’ sake. She grins: he’s been sleeping in her bed since he came to stay in her room instead of Ron’s.
They’ve been sleeping with each other for almost a week.
“You make that easy”, she tells him lightly. She makes a purposeless dog-ear in her book, shuffling around on her mattress, her body bumping into his with such ease she might as well have never known anything else.  “Maybe it’s not … entirely accidental. It’s easy with you.”
She hears his slow exhale, watches the way his grin softens into a smile. Even under the loose-fitting shirt, she feels herself growing warm, even though it falls off her shoulders like a circus tent, the shoulder seams comically misplaced on her upper arms.
It’s as good a moment as any to remember that the t-shirt is Harry’s, technically. It makes her feel naked in a wholly new way; only she realises she doesn’t mind. 
She lets out a fluttering breath. “Interesting. I’m usually the one making you blush.”
“Well”, he says softly, “it looks good on you.”
It’s unclear if he’s talking about his t-shirt or the colour of her face, and it doesn’t matter much, it makes warmth pool in Ginny’s belly all the same. For a moment there, she’s the girl with her elbow in the butter dish all over again – if nothing else, she can imagine their faces glowing in identical shades of pink, bright like the carnations growing in the flower boxes on the Burrow’s windowsills.
What never presents itself – what doesn’t come back – is the urge to hastily pull back into her shell, like a little snail prodded by an overzealous finger. So he continues to look, and she continues to let him, the fluttering in her belly light and pleasant like the first sip of a fizzy drink.
That much is new.
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dhwty-writes · 3 years
Note
hi! I have a prompt, if you like: what if Geralt hangs up mistletoe to get Jaskier to kiss him? :)
ELLIE, what a galaxy brained concept! It’s so silly and the gay panic is rampant in this one, my friends. The Kaer Morons being a bumbling pack of idiots and Geralt ridiculously pining after Jaskier? Coming right up!
Summary: Geralt is in love with Jaskier. In order to finally get him to admit his feelings, he devises a ten step plan with Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir. 
Warnings: NONE, this is tooth-rotting fluff
Read on AO3
There was a conspiracy of the highest order brewing in the Continent involving no less than four witchers, their horses, a goat, and an unsuspecting bard. It is known under many names, including, but not limited to, Operation Home Sweet Home, Gods Save us from your Fucking Pining, and Get Vesemir's Blessing (and Mission Let's Get Geralt Laid, but that was from Lambert and therefore stupid).
They had laid out the Conspiracy in a set of carefully calculated steps last winter with the help of Vesemir's Wise Words and truly copious amounts of alcohol. Once he saw the whole list sober, Geralt had nearly chucked it into the fireplace out of mortification. Good thing Eskel and Lambert had been nearby to wrestle the slip of paper out of his hands.
Only after the creation of at least half a dozen copies was he trusted with it again. He frowned down at the sheet. It was simple, really. A simple ten-step-plan. He could do that.
Step One: Stop fucking staring out of windows and sighing longingly. (Shut up, Lambert.) Get back on the Path and find Jaskier.
Now, at least that was easy enough. Not for the first time since their acquaintance they had agreed upon a meeting place to come find each other as soon as the snows would allow it. Most of the years Geralt would arrive a little late; because even if they chose a spot closer to Kaer Morhen than Oxenfurt, the Killer was usually impassable for a long time.
A few years they had been lucky and could set out relatively early in spring. Geralt hadn't felt lucky at all, sitting in a lonely tavern corner day in, day out, waiting for a familiar bright-coloured bard to fill his life with light again. He had felt terrified, most of all.
So, this year when he set out to the Path, an already crumpled list clutched tightly in his hand, he was even more on edge than normally. He didn't think he could take Step One failing already, and the mortifying possibility of Jaskier lying dead in a ditch. He might just climb up that mountain again and never come back down.
Luckily, Geralt — and Vesemir — were saved from that miserable fate. When Geralt threw open the tavern door in some backwater Kaedwen town, Jaskier was there already. He was peacocking around in his usual manner, enticing his sparse audience with his captivating presence. When his eyes fell on Geralt, though, his three half-drunk spectators were soon forgotten.
The bard gasped and slung his lute onto his back, vaulting off the stage to come rushing over to him. "You're here!" Geralt stood ready, his arms spread wide to catch Jaskier when he flung himself at him in an overenthusiastic hug. "I missed you." Jaskier slung his legs around Geralt's hips and buried his face against his shoulder, clinging to him as if for dear life. 
Geralt held him tight, deeply inhaling the familiar scent, a mix of honey, grapes, and cinnamon. He was used to this by now. He didn't mind. Truth be told, he craved it.
"Hmm," he answered, acutely aware of the stares they were attracting. Geralt decided he didn't care. "I... missed you, too."
"You did?" Jaskier pulled back and beamed at him. Just a week ago he had thought he would kill to see that smile again as soon as possible.
"Hmm," he agreed. Now he knew he knew he would die for it.
Jaskier wriggled in his grasp as a sign he wanted to be put down again. "You certainly know how to sweep a man off his feet, darling," he announced with a cheerful wink. "I don't think you've ever told me you so much as enjoyed my company before, let alone miss it."
"Hmm." Hadn't he? He could've sworn he had.
"None of that, now, let me just grab my bag and we can be on our merry way." Without another word, Jaskier rushed up the stairs in the back of the tavern.
Geralt stood uncomfortably in the door, waiting for him to return and doing his best not to attract too much attention. 'Hurry up, Jaskier,' he thought impatiently.
"Oi!" the bartender shouted. "Yer the witcher? The one of the songs?"
"I am."
The man nodded and threw something at him, humming a very distinct tune. It was a ducat. Geralt pocketed it with a sigh. He hadn't missed that.
He didn't have to wait long before Jaskier came barrelling back down the stairs, a much too large bag Roach would have to carry again in tow. "Well," the bard straightened his crumpled doublet, which, for some reason, now gaped open and showed off the pristine shirt underneath. Geralt tried not to stare, "where are we off to?"
"Toussaint," he answered, holding the tavern door open for him.
"Toussaint!" Jaskier exclaimed excitedly. "I love Toussaint."
"Hmm," Geralt said. 'I know,' Geralt thought, 'that's why we're going.'
With their reunion out of the way, it was time to proceed with the plan:
Step Two: Travel with Jaskier. Be nice to him (no fillingless pies!)! Compliment him! Laugh at his jokes!
That part was significantly more difficult than the first. Not that he lacked compliments for Jaskier, quite on the contrary. They, however, posed not one, but two difficulties.
The first was one of his own making: voicing his thoughts with actual words. In the privacy of his mind he had a myriad of compliments. 'You're beautiful,' passed through his head when he saw Jaskier bathed in the golden light of sunset. 'You smell nice,' after a day at the coast, salt encrusting Jaskier's hair. 'You make me smile', 'You make the loneliness go away', 'You're the best bard I could wish for.' None of them were quite eager to leave his mouth.
When they finally did, it was awkward. They didn't sound at all how he imagined them. "What are you looking at?" Jaskier asked.
"Something on your face," he answered. 'Yeah,' he thought dumbly, 'sunlight.'
Or: "Geralt, are you sniffing me?"
"You smell." He still cursed himself months later for omitting the simple word 'nice'.
After a while he got better at it. He could manage an "I like your voice" without stumbling over it, or a "Your outfit looks nice and smooth." It wasn't an "I love listening to you sing and say my name; you make it sound like something that is worthy of affection" or an "I love that you wear silk as soft as your skin and could spend days caressing it without growing tired of it" yet, but he was getting there.
What came then, once he was able to say a simple nice sentence to his bard, was somehow even worse. Jaskier was clumsy, that was nothing new, but this season it was on a whole different level. Whenever Geralt so much asked him about the song he was working on, the bard stumbled over his own feet; with every smile or laugh he nearly dropped his precious lute.
But nothing beat that time they happened upon a particularly clear and blue lake and Geralt had leaned over to tell Jaskier: "I like it. It reminds me of your eyes. Just as pretty." The poet had nearly plummeted right into it, which would have been very unfortunate indeed, since he hadn't convinced the nymph living in it to migrate yet.
In the end, Jaskier's utter lack of equilibrium sense led to Geralt offering him to ride on Roach. That was much better. Sometimes they rode double, too. He liked those days especially, when he had an excuse to hold his bard close. The days when Jaskier would sigh and lean back into his touch he liked most of them all.
Slowly, they settled into a familiar rhythm. It was awkward at first, but soon they became used to the change of their relationship. And it wasn't as if everything changed. They still bickered and insulted each other, and laughed and told stories. It was just right; Geralt almost didn't notice how summer came to an end.
But it did, and when the first leaves started coasting to the ground it was time for the next step.
Step Three: Ask him where he will spend the next winter.
It was probably the most mortifying thing he had to say to Jaskier yet. They were sat at a campfire one early autumn evening, Geralt trying to look busy cleaning his sword and Jaskier preoccupied with his lute. Once he finally worked up the courage to ask, he stumbled over his words like a school boy; he even blushed, for fuck's sake! It was embarrassing.
Luckily, Jaskier didn't seem to notice, too busy tuning his lute. "Why, in Oxenfurt, of course. Why do you ask, Geralt?" he answered nonchalantly as if Geralt wasn't just leading the most daunting conversation of his entire life.
'Fucking great,' he thought. Now it was time for Step Three.5: Ask Jaskier to come home with you, you fucking idiot.
"Hm," he said.
Jaskier laughed. "Talkative as always I see." He smiled at him brightly and turned back to his lute. "Alright then. Keep your secrets."
"Hmm." This wasn't getting any easier. "Jaskier."
"Yes, dear?"
His heart fluttered with the pet name, so much that Geralt nearly bit his tongue off in the process of trying to voice his question: "Would you like to stay with me?"
The lute gave a dissonant twang that made both of them wince. "Excuse me, what?" Jaskier stammered, his voice much higher than normally.
"Hmm. I just thought..." He frowned. 'Shit.' He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. This had been doomed from the beginning. "Forget it, it's stupid."
"No, no, not at all!" Jaskier scrambled to his feet and hurried over to Geralt's side. "Where would we be staying? I suppose you could come to Oxenfurt with me, but it could get a bit crammed and-"
"Kaer Morhen," Geralt stated simply.
"Kaer Mo- oh!" His eyes lit up. "Why, yes, Geralt, I would love to stay with you."
And that was the end of that. They didn't talk about it anymore the whole evening as Geralt did his damnedest to forget the conversation had ever happened. But when he laid awake in the night, Jaskier huddled close to him — it was getting rather cold, after all — he couldn't stop his mind from whirling, excitement mixing with immobilising terror. Jaskier would come to Kaer Morhen with him. They would stay together the whole winter. And Jaskier would meet his family.
With a sigh he turned over, cautiously throwing an arm over Jaskier's waist and holding him like the precious thing he was. The smile that spread on Geralt's face when his bard snuggled even closer, outshone the morning sun creeping over the horizon.
The following days and weeks, Jaskier was buzzing with the same excited energy that Geralt held within. It cost him every ounce of self-control not to turn Roach around and head for Kaer Morhen right away. But it was still early in the autumn, at least a moon's turn before it was time to go home, so they busied themselves with taking contracts and performing for sub-par audiences.
It was alright. He needed the money, after all, if he wanted to cross off Step Four: Bring Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen in its entirety, including the note: Buy him some nice and warm clothes on the way - Vesemir
It was good advice, Geralt knew, as most of Vesemir's advice was. Jaskier might have travelled with a witcher for the better part of his life, but he was still only human. And winters were very cold in the northern Kaedwen mountains.
So, on Geralt's annual stop in Ard Carraigh, he took Jaskier to get him equipped with soft woollen sweaters and stockings, as well as a pair of sturdy boots, ignoring the bard's protests of how 'ugly' they were.
"You'll thank me when you've still got all your toes after this winter," he grumbled as he strapped Jaskier's bag to Roach's saddle.
After that, nothing much exciting followed. There were still a few villages and hamlets along the way to Kaer Morhen but the least of them had so much as a tavern. The ones with a real audience of Jaskier were fewer still.
Geralt couldn't say he didn't enjoy it. Quite the opposite, he loved listening to Jaskier in the privacy of their camp or — if they were lucky — the barn where they could stay the night. He loved knowing that Jaskier sang only for him. And most of all he loved the vibrant smiles he got along the way, and the tiny ones, too, etched on his face even when he curled up against the witcher at night.
During the days, Jaskier finally had to stop riding on Roach; the path was simply getting too dangerous. The way up to Kaer Morhen had never been easy, not even when there had been two dozen witchers and twice as many students living there, but since the attack they hadn't tended to it anymore. The Witcher's Trail was no easy one for humans — and it wasn't meant to be.
Jaskier, to his credit, didn't comment much on it, most of the time too exhausted or admiring to run his mouth about the difficulty of getting to Geralt's home. He was almost a bit worried, anxious even, if Jaskier's reaction to seeing the ancient ruin would just be the same kind of silent admiration.
Evidently, there had been no need. They rounded the last corner and, finally, Kaer Morhen was looming up above them. As soon as his eyes fell on it, Jaskier gasped and ran ahead. He had, apparently, forgotten about his aching limbs he had complained about just that morning. "Is that it?" he asked excitedly. "Geralt, is this it?"
"No, it's another crumbling fortress in the Kaedwen mountains," he deadpanned.
"You're mean," Jaskier accused him and turned back around to the keep. "For months I've dreamt of this moment and what do you do? You mock me, truly a horrible habit, that- oh, gods, Geralt, it's so beautiful!"
"Hmm," he answered, watching Jaskier intently. The childish glee on his face, the snowflakes dancing around him and melting in his hair. "I guess so."
"Can we go inside?"
Another barbed comment was already on the tip of his tongue, but Geralt guessed that he shouldn't ruin the moment. Not if Jaskier was so happy. "We can. Come on."
They were still a good distance away when the gates creaked open and three bulking figures stepped outside. "You're early," he accused Eskel and Lambert once they caught up to them. They weren't supposed to be there. They were messing up Step Five: Meet the family. (Lambert Eskel Lambert Vesemir first.)
"And you're impolite," Vesemir grumbled. "I taught you better, Geralt."
"Hmm," he answered and the silence that followed might've been awkward if not for Jaskier.
Thanks to him there was no silence at all, to be precise. "You must be Vesemir; Geralt told me so much about you. Dare I say, Master Witcher, I am honoured and humbled by the invitation, and am looking forward to my stay. The name's Jaskier and I am at your service," he concluded and bowed with a flourish.
The three witchers gaped at him in surprise and Geralt couldn't help but grin. No overly detailed stories by him could've possibly prepared them for... well, Jaskier. "What," Lambert muttered quietly, "the fuck?"
"Now, that's just rude," Jaskier said as he straightened himself, "don't you think? Geralt, your brother is being rude to me."
It was all he could do not to laugh freely. Instead he shrugged and said: "Told you he's the rude one."
"Oh, you're Lambert!" The bard grinned widely and stretched out his hand. "Nice to finally meet you."
Lambert huffed in surprise and shook the offered hand. "Tell you what, bard, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended."
"Offended," Geralt mumbled just as Eskel said: "Flattered."
Jaskier smiled widely and wickedly. "Both."
Lambert opened his mouth, presumably to return a rude comment, but Jaskier's attention was diverted by Eskel, who gave him a thorough once-over and then nodded. "Welcome to Kaer Morhen, bard."
"Thank you, uh, Eskel?" he hazarded a guess.
A smile tugged on the unscarred corner of his mouth. "That's right."
"Dinner's in an hour," Vesemir cut in. "Maybe you could show our guest to his room, Geralt?"
Right. With the meeting out of the way it was time for Step Six: Show him to his room (Make sure it has some nice fur rugs - Vesemir) (Shag him on the rug - Lambert) (Offer to stay with him if he's cold - Eskel). Both of those additions seemed equally daunting to him.
But before he could even think of an excuse as to why he couldn't do that right now, Roach's reins were ripped from his hands and they were being pushed towards the keep.
"Well, they're certainly eager to get rid of you, considering they haven't seen you for a year," Jaskier quipped once they were inside the keep proper.
"That's not- hmm." 'Fuck.' He had almost betrayed himself. "They'll be different after dinner," he promised. "Besides, you know they can hear you."
"So?" He huffed a laugh. "I know they're just like you; all bark and no bite."
He was about to deny that claim but Lambert's offended howl that reached him from the courtyard quickly changed his mind. That definitely was worth the jab at his own ego. "Come on," he urged, smiling, "no need to continue playing the jester for them any further."
"Why, is there any issue with providing entertainment for a living?" Jaskier teased.
"Only if it's at the expense of me."
He sighed dramatically. "That I know, my dear. That I know."
"Jaskier?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up, I'm trying to give you a tour of the keep."
"You are? Oh, I wouldn't have noticed." Geralt shot him a dirty look. Jaskier snickered maliciously, the bastard. "Oh, yeah, yep. Shutting up. Go ahead, Sir Witcher, show me your magnificent home."
From anyone else it might've been mockery. It might've been mockery from Jaskier, too, if not for the sound of absolute awe in his voice as he took in their surroundings.
Geralt could hardly blame him. It might've been a long time since he had arrived at Kaer Morhen, but he still remembered how dumbstruck he had been at the sheer immensity of the place that should become since home.
It had lost its mysticism since then, but seeing Jaskier's childlike wonder as he led him through the kitchens and great hall made him remember. He showed him the library, too, as well as the stairs down to the hot springs that he must never, ever confuse with those that led to the laboratories.
He closed with the rooms the various witchers claimed as their own: "That's Lambert's room down the hall, don't go there, he's a prick; Vesemir is a few floors below us, claims he's too old for our squabbles; that's mine, and that one's Eskel's, ask him if you need something and I'm not there, not Lambert, he's an arsehole-"
"Geralt," Jaskier said soothingly and put a hand on his arm, "you're rambling."
"Am I?" he asked confused. "Don't think so."
"There's no need to be nervous, dear. I won't abandon you; you're stuck with me for the winter."
"I'm not nervous," Geralt insisted, his fingers twitching nervously.
"Right," Jaskier took his hand away, evidently not very convinced. "I'm sorry for interrupting you, then."
"Don't be," he mumbled, not quite able to tear his gaze from Jaskier's gentle smile.
"Geralt?"
"Hm?"
"Do I-" He started fidgeting with his lute strap. "Do I have a room, too? I mean, not that I mind sharing with you, that's not the issue at all- gods, I sound stupid-"
His eyes still trained on Jaskier, he reached behind him and opened the door. "There."
"That's my room?" he asked without turning around to look inside.
"That's yours," Geralt confirmed. He had prepared it last winter already. Just in case.
As soon as the words had left his mouth, the poet whirled around and rushed into the sparsely furnished room. He looked very much... out of place. The realisation hit him like a slap in the face; but apparently the visual of Jaskier and his bright purple doublet in the grey empty walls of Kaer Morhen was what it took for him to realise how little they were reconcilable.
For the first time in his life he felt self-conscious for his home. "'S not much," Geralt mumbled.
"It's wonderful." Jaskier beamed, carefully inspecting the bed and the rug, peering out the window and into the chest. "Might get a bit cold, though."
He grumbled something he knew to be unintelligible to humans into his beard.
"What was that, love?"
"You could always stay with me," he spoke up. "Y'know. We've shared before."
"That we have! You might find that before long you will be forced to let me take you up on your generous offer."
"Hmm," Geralt answered and left him to it, in order to complete Step Six.5: No, let him arrive first, you idiot! There would be no 'being forced' of any kind, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to Jaskier, yet.
Despite their apparent incompatibility Jaskier settled into the routine of Kaer Morhen disturbingly quickly. Though 'settle into' wasn't quite the right choice of words. More like 'tear it down and build it anew, but with lyrics, laughter, and luminosity'.
The evening of their arrival was truly mortifying, the worst mix of embarrassing stories of Geralt's childhood and very inappropriate questions directed at Jaskier. Geralt had spent the whole dinner frozen in shock and awe at the masterful display of the bard's craftsmanship.
After an hour of vicious cross-examination, the three witchers had finally backed off. And as Vesemir had retreated to his rooms, Lambert had brought up the alcohol. It hall had spiralled out of Geralt's control after that.
Within the hour Lambert and Jaskier were japing and jabbing at each other as if they were lifelong friends and not acquaintances since a few hours. It took his bard three days to have Vesemir completely wrapped around his finger, intently listening to his droning lectures about basically everything. And not even a fortnight into their stay, he found Jaskier and Eskel in the library, talking with hushed voices. He quickly retreated but not before he heard Jaskier telling his brother how beautiful he was, scars or no scars, and Eskel sniveled quietly.
A month since their arrival saw them trapped into the castle by the heavy snowfalls. Unfortunately, that didn't stop Vesemir from drilling them mercilessly.
They were an hour into their morning routine when they all perked at the sound of soft footsteps passing through the hall. "Jaskier," Geralt said softly.
The bard was bundled up in several quilts, his face barely visible beneath the mess of his hair and the blankets. Still his face lit up with the brightest smile when he saw them. "Mornin', lads," he croaked, "lookin' good, keep it up." He gave them a tired thumbs-up and shuffled off to the kitchen, where Vesemir would provide him with a hot breakfast with a side of 'most-boring-information-on-this-earth'. It was their own morning routine of sorts, and the three of them knew it wouldn't be long before they were discussing the 'merits of the iambic pentameter in 10th century love poetry' or some shit.
"Fuck," Lambert cursed once they knew Jaskier to be out of earshot, "I really can't blame you, Geralt. Too much time with him and I start gawking like a love-sick idiot, too."
"Hmm," Geralt agreed. Jaskier definitely had that effect.
"Jealous, wolf?" Eskel inquired with a knowing smile.
"No," he answered earnestly. If anything, he loved Jaskier more for it. His family wasn't easy to deal with, he knew. But his bard didn't care. He had so much affection to give, even for witchers. 'Especially for witchers.' He closed his eyes with a happy smile.
"Y'know, there's still a couple of steps left on our list," Eskel informed him casually.
Geralt's eyes snapped open as his heart sped up. 'Fuck.' The plan. "Hmm."
"Just fucking get it over with," Lambert yearned. "Your pining isn't any less obnoxious just because he's here."
"If anything, it's gotten worse," Eskel agreed.
"So?" he snapped. He had put it off, that was true. Had waited for the snow, he told himself, but now the snow was here and-
"So, we'll distract him this afternoon," Eskel interrupted his spiralling thoughts.
"And you pull your head outta your arse and fucking follow through," Lambert added.
"Fine," he ground out. "We do that." Not before he kicked both their arses during their training, though, for being such utter dicks.
Before long, however, the inevitable happened. Morning passed over to noon, and, true to their words, Lambert and Eskel whisked Jaskier away after lunch. They left Geralt behind in the hall with a branch in his hands and nothing left to do but complete Step Seven: Hang up a mistletoe.
"Fuck," he muttered. Nearly one year had passed since they had come up with their conspiracy. One year to gather his courage, one year to come up with a plan, one year to at least think about where to fucking put it. "Fuck," he said again, for good measure.
He looked around. Looked to the rafters. Looked at the mistletoe. "Fuck it," he declared and tucked it away to scale up to the rafters.
He was already up there, dangling from one of the beams when he remembered that he had nothing to secure it with besides the silky ribbon that would never fit around it. He scowled darkly. He sure as hell wouldn't climb down and up again. Without further ado he pulled his dagger from his belt and drove it deep into the wood, pinning the mistletoe by the ribbon.
He climbed down again, making sure that it was visible from the ground. 'Perfect,' he decreed. With the mistletoe in place, it was now time for Step Eight: Have Lambert and Eskel inform Jaskier of the mistletoe and a strategically placed Geralt. 
He spun around to go and alert his brothers, when he heard a cheerful voice behind him: "Geralt! There you are, you mean witcher, I was wondering where you were hiding. You know, it is not nice to leave your, uh- bedmate all alone and freezing in the morning, and- oh." There was a thoughtful pause. "Now would you look at that."
Geralt heaved a long sigh. He dreaded turning around, for he had a very distinct feeling he knew already what he would see. And fuck, he was not ready for that step. For some stupid reason, he still did turned around.
Jaskier stood in the middle of the hall, squinting up at the ceiling. "Are my eyes deceiving me — and they might be, mind you, my eyes are not as good as a witcher's — or is that a mistletoe I spy up there."
He cursed internally. He knew he should've hung it lower. "Hmm," he answered, his heart beating in his throat. Why was his heart beating in his throat? It wasn't supposed to do that. His voice was surprisingly calm when he said: "Seems like it."
"Oh no!" he moaned woefully. "Quick, Geralt, come here and lift the curse!"
"Curse?" he inquired bemusedly as his feet moved without his volition. "What curse, Jaskier?"
The bard gasped. "Don't you know? When someone passes beneath a mistletoe, they are frozen to the spot until the curse is broken."
"Hmm," he stepped under the mistletoe, too. He should've known Jaskier would make up a story around this. It was just a tradition, for fuck's sake, no curse. Although a curse was certainly more romantic, even he had to admit that. "Must be a rare curse if a witcher's never heard of it."
"The rarest," Jaskier insisted and pointed at his cheek. "It may only be broken with a true love's kiss."
In light of what happened next, let it be known that, in Geralt's defence, he was panicking. Quite thoroughly so. Since the Trials his legs hadn't shaken like that anymore.
He had been promised a pep talk by his brothers before having to confront the situation at hand. And yet they were nowhere to be found and Jaskier was here, evidently expecting him to kiss him.
'Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.' He was not ready; he was not ready; he was not-
"Geralt?" Jaskier ripped him from his thoughts. "Are you waiting till my nose grows icicles, or what?"
Still, he leaned forward, placing one hand on Jaskier's hip and the other on his shoulder, and pecked him on the cheek.
The cheek. That had not been the plan. That had not been the plan at all. And then, of all things, he heard himself ask: "Can you move again?"
Jaskier blinked, looking just as dumbstruck as Geralt felt. "I- I think so?" he stammered and moved to pull away, blushing furiously.
'Fuck, no,' he remembered thinking. And while he wasn't quite in control of his limbs again, what he did next was probably the single most clever thing he had done in his entire life. Gingerly almost, he tightened his grip on Jaskier. His head tilted to the side, an invitation, an escape.
His bard didn't move. Instead, he said: "Doesn't seem like it."
"Hmm," Geralt answered and leaned in closer. "Difficult curse, seems like. Let me try again."
Before he could even think of changing his mind, Jaskier had his arms looped around Geralt's neck and crushed their lips together. He did his best to reciprocate the kiss, which wasn't easy with fear still gripping his heart tightly, but then Jaskier crowded closer, moulding his body against Geralt's and that was all it took for the tension to seep from his bones and go limb.
It was a weird sensation; being wrapped in Jaskier's arms was so familiar, but he was also kissing Jaskier, which was new- 'Great gods, I am kissing Jaskier, I am kissing Jaskier, I am-'
He pulled back with a triumphant grin, evidently startling his bard. "What?" he asked, very confused.
"I am kissing you," he announced, his grin widening even more.
Jaskier frowned. "That you are, but-"
"I am kissing you," he said again and pecked him on the lips. "And I can keep doing it."
"Oh!" The frown eased away, giving way to the softest of smiles. "That you can, my dear."
So, Geralt did. Again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know how many times he had kissed Jaskier, how many times Jaskier had kissed him, before he pulled back and blurted: "I love you."
Jaskier stared at him in silent awe, before blushing and cupping his cheeks gently. "That you do, my love," he whispered. "And I love you, too." Softly, he pressed their lips together again.
"You do?" Geralt asked disbelievingly.
Jaskier smirked. "I do. For years and years, I have. I thought you knew."
"Fuck," he muttered. Did that mean... 'I didn't have to do any of this.' He could've just- "I'm an idiot."
"Only sometimes," he allowed, giggling sillily. Geralt was compelled to join in. "Besides, you’re my idiot, and I love you for it." He shifted a little, so he could lean his head comfortably onto Geralt's shoulder despite them being nearly the same height. 
"So," Jaskier drawled, curling a strand of Geralt's hair around his finger, "are we just going to keep standing here, or...?"
He scoffed. Of course, they wouldn't. He had a plan, after all. "Fuck." The plan.
Jaskier raised his head. "Is that a curse or an answer?"
"Yes," he answered warily.
It earned him the most beautiful snorting laugh he had ever heard. "What are you cursing at, love?"
"We skipped Step Eight," he admitted, "got right to Step Nine."
"Excuse me, what?"
"Step Nine: Kiss Jaskier." The poet just gawked at him. "I had a list," he explained.
"You had?" Jaskier's eyes lit up and he made grabby hands. "Show me, show me!"
Reluctantly, Geralt handed it over, studying Jaskier's face carefully as he read through it.
"I knew it," Jaskier concluded finally.
"Huh?"
"Oh, come on!" He threw up his hands. "You were acting weird all year round, Geralt! Not that I'm complaining, mind you, but still, weird. It took me about ten minutes to figure out there was some ploy at play." He laughed quietly and waved the paper around. "Though I never would've guessed what was amiss."
"You don't like it."
"On the contrary! It's a wonderful plan," the poet said and pecked him on the lips. "I've got to admit, though, Lambert was right: you should've just fucked me on that rug once we got here."
"Hmmm." Geralt nuzzled against Jaskier's neck, holding him closer when he tried to squirm away from the tickling sensation. "That still an option?"
"Very much so. I believe it has to be one more step before completing your list." He pulled him close and whispered against his lips: "Take me to bed, my love"
And how could Geralt refuse such a request? Especially if it coincided so luckily with Step Ten.
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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years
Text
Camp North Star - June 12th
AFAB!Reader x Yang Hongseok
Word Count: 2708
Contents: massage, oral (reader giving and receiving), fingering
“Oh god, you’re still in here?” You had expected the pool office to be empty by this time on a Saturday night but as you entered the room you found a very tired Hongseok still at his desk, going through paperwork.
“Yep,” he sighed, sitting back and running his fingers through his hair. “The counselors get here tomorrow and as much as I want to be down on the beach enjoying the evening, I really need to get through a few more bits of scheduling before I call it a night. I think I have it mostly done but things needed to move around from last year.”
You moved towards his desk.
“Well I have my and Wonwoo’s lesson plans,” you said, placing them on an empty spot on the desk.
“I’m gonna guess they’re already good,” he said, glancing at you. “But I’ll look them over before showing Cheol. I’m lucky that you’re all competent.”
You hummed in response as you moved around the desk, standing behind him and staring down at the array of papers on his desk. Your hands landed on the back of his chair as you leaned over his shoulder.
“Is there like, anything I could help with?” You asked, chewing on your lip.
“I don’t think so,” he sighed, sitting up a little straighter. “But I appreciate the offer. It’s just a lot of schedules and double checking to get through.”
You glanced over the papers, leaning forwards on the balls of your feet and bringing your hands to Hongseok’s shoulders.
“Woah, dude you are so tense.”
“Yeah that doesn’t surprise me,” he sighed. “I wanna say it’ll be better once we get into next week but I know starting Monday we have a bunch of safety and swim tests to run.”
“Hmm,” you pondered, wondering if you could do anything. Your and Wonwoo’s work was pretty close to done with all of your lesson plans still kicking around from last summer. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you thought and Hongseok let out a groan.
“Okay that actually feels good,” he hummed.
“I’m not surprised,” you snickered. “Have you been sitting here all day?”
“Yep.”
“Dude you need like, a few minutes to relax. You’re gonna overwork yourself before the summer even begins.”
He mumbled something in response that you couldn’t make out as he relaxed back into your touch, fingers massaging the knots out of his shoulders as best you could.
“And here I thought you were too busy to take a break,” you chuckled.
“I’m making an expectation,” he sighed. “I need this.”
“You do,” you agreed. “Otherwise you’re going to jump into the water and seize up.”
A lazy grin tugged at the corner of his lips while he let out a small laugh. You did your best to loosen up his muscles from all of the office work that you knew he wasn’t used to and did your best to ignore the way he was groaning. You weren’t expecting anything in particular, then again you weren’t even expecting him to still be working so late.
The warm breeze carried the din of voices and laughter from the beach into the dim office. You watched as Hongseok rolled out his neck, the sounds coming from him unabashedly and making you happy the beach was far enough away no one would hear him.
“You know if anyone walks by they’re gonna think we’re having sex,” you chuckled.
“Trust me, I sound even better when I have sex.”
You couldn’t help the snort that you let out at his words and he opened one eye to look at you. “I mean it you know,” he said, cheeky grin tugging at his lips.
“I’m sure you do,” you laughed. “But I didn’t come in here looking for sex or your moaning.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “But I’d be down.”
The movements of your fingers slowed as you processed. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“You said yourself I need a break,” he grinned.
You thought to yourself for a moment before pulling his chair back and swinging your leg over his lap, straddling him.
“Alright, bet,” you grinned, feeling a little more smug at the look of surprise on his face. “Show me these real moans then.”
“I-I-” He sputtered, quickly trying to process.
“Or I can just leave you to your work.”
“No no,” he grabbed your hips and you snickered. “No, I’m definitely taking you up on this offer.”
His lips found yours as he recovered from his shock. His hands squeezed your hips, pulling you a little closer as your fingertips ran along his neck and then started down his chest. You could tell he was tired through just his kisses. He was a little bit lazy, a little slow in his movements as he settled into a rhythm with you.
You let your hands trail over his chest, taking your time with slow movements. He relaxed more and more under your touch. You felt his hand move from your hip and he leaned forwards a bit before the light from the lamp on his desk went out.
“Hopefully no one will bother us,” he mumbled against your lips.
“Good idea,” you hummed.
“I’ve been known to have a few of those,” he chuckled.
You smiled against his lips as your hands slipped further down his chest. You shifted your hips back just a bit as your fingertips found the waist of his shorts. Hongseok let out a sigh against your lips as you started to palm him through his shorts. His hands moved to grab at you ass.
He easily let your tongue past his lips as you moved your hand, quiet groans slipping past his lips. You pressed your hips back into his hands as you felt him growing hard under your touch, legs spreading just a little more under you.
“I really needed this,” he murmured between kisses.
“Not like it couldn’t use it either,” you hummed.
A warm breeze blew through the door, cracked open. It carried the quiet din of those left on the beach. Even with the rest of the counselors showing up tomorrow the coaches were still enjoying their evening, staying up late. At the very least your absence from the cabins wouldn’t be immediately noticed.
You let your fingers undo his shorts slowly, meeting him in slow kisses as you did. His hands moved over your ass and along your thighs, squeezing at your skin ever so slightly impatient. Your fingers found the waist of his shorts and you pushed them down just a little.
Hongseok let your slip back off his lap, sinking onto your knees on the floor. He lifted his hips easily, letting you pull down his shorts and boxers. Even in the darkness of the room, from halfway under his desk, you could see the heat in his gaze as he looked down at you, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.
He let out a quiet groan as you wrapped your hand around his cock, pressing a few stray kisses to his thighs and gazing up at him. You started to move your hand slowly, pumping his cock, and grinning to yourself at the way he sighed and relaxed even further back into his chair.
“You’re going to melt into that chair,” you hummed, pressing kisses along his cock.
“Mhm,” he mumbled, eyes barely open. “I could become one with this chair. I could live in this moment for a long time.” He slowly threaded his fingers into your hair.
You hummed to yourself before running your tongue along the underside of his cock, listening to his quiet, breathy groans. Arousal curled through you, lighting a fire in your core that had you shifting from your spot on the floor and pressing your thighs together, rocking your hips for a little bit of sensation. Were you a little more patient you might really tease him but more and more your mind was wrapped up in the idea of getting off.
“Oh fuck,” the curse fell off his lips as you wrapped yours around the head of his cock, running your tongue around it slowly. Your hand moved around the base, still pumping him. His grip tightened just a little in your hair as you let out a quiet moan in response.
You moved slowly, taking a little more of him into your mouth with each movement. Each time you pulled back, hollowing your cheeks and sucking as you moved back to the tip. Your gaze stayed trained on his face in the dark office. His mouth started to hang open and his eyes slipped closed.
His hand gripped your hair just a little more firmly and you felt him urging you to move a little faster, legs spreading a little wider. You obliged, picking up a steady pace and matching it with your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing your hand just a little tighter.
A light breeze blew in through the crack in the door, tickling your skin that was heating more and more by the moment. Hongseok’s moans were starting to fill the room, pouring from his lips, sometimes muffled as he bit down on his lip to hold them in. You moaned around his cock, feeling him rut into your mouth in response and bringing a hand to his hip to hold him down.
“You were right,” you hummed between taking a breath and taking him back into your mouth.
“About?” His voice was breathy and unfocused and the word came out half moaning.
“Your real moans do sound better.”
He let out a chuckle. “I told-” 
Hongseok’s words fell off into a string of curses as you started pumping his cock quickly in your hand. Your lips teased his tip before taking him into your mouth again and moving faster, savouring the way his moans grew louder. Each one that fell off his lips curled through your body, heating your core and making you wetter by the second.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” his voice was almost a whine, hips working against your hand as you brought him closer to his edge. Pants and moans fell unabashedly from his lips and his fingers curled tightly into your hair, urging you to take him deeper and faster. You obliged, working him as quickly as you could and keeping your hand moving quickly.
A loud moan fell off his lips as he came, hips bucking up and cum pouring down your throat with each pulse of his cock. You sucked down all that could, working him through his high until he fully relaxed back into the chair again, catching his breath as you sat back on your heels, licking your lips.
“Fuck, get up here,” he pulled at your arms, urging you back onto his lap and lips crashing against yours. He pressed you back until you felt the edge of the desk against your back, one of his hands hasty undoing your shorts and fingers pushing in, searching for your clit.
“Hongseok,” you barely got his name out between kisses.
“Mhm,” he didn’t break away from you in his answer, nearly whining when you moved back a little.
“Do you have a condom?”
Hongseok took a breath and then paused, brows knitting together in thought. He wrapped an arm around the small of your back, holding you on his lap while he opened the top drawer of his desk. You watched, hands traveling over his chest and a pout forming on your lips as he found his wallet and rummaged through it.
“Crap.”
You sighed. “It’s fine. I heard there’s some somewhere so if I can get-” your words cut off into a squeal as he pushed you back up to sit on the desk. His hands grabbed at your shorts, pulling them off swiftly. “You do realize no condom means no sex, right?”
Hongseok sunk to his knees, hands pressing your thighs apart. “Who said anything about using my dick?” He grinned.
“I- oh-” you let out a moan as his tongue ran through your folds.
“It’s cute that sucking me off got you so wet,” he murmured against your core.
“I- ah- your moans s-sounded good,” you stumbled over your words as his tongue ran over your clit, easily figuring out which movements had you rolling your hips and moaning a little louder. A cool breeze blew across your hot skin but you were no longer listening for voices in the distance, quickly wrapped up in the pleasure instead.
Hongseok’s fingers dug into your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs more. Each hazy gaze down at him caught the heat in his eyes as he gazed at you. He let out quiet moans against your core as his tongue moved, sending shocks of pleasure through your body with each low vibration.
Your hand found his hair as pleasure curled tightly inside of you, a spark growing hotter with each passing movement of his tongue over you clit. He held your hips down, keeping them from rolling against his face as he ate you out.
“Fuck that’s good,” You let you head fall back against the desk as your legs wrapped around his head, pulling him closer. He only moaned against you in response, and you were sure you could hear his chuckle when your hips tried to buck up from the sensation.
He let one hand move away from your hip and moments later you felt two fingers pressing slowly into your core. A moan fell from your lips as you clenched around them, feeling the way he curled them into you, searching for the best spot while his tongue lapped over your clit.
“Close already?” He hummed, teasingly.
“I-I was- I got w-work up- w-when-” you could barely form your sentence, your brain hazy and fully entwined in pleasure and the building tightness in your core as your orgasm built nearer and nearer.
“You can barely speak just from this,” he hummed, between movements of his tongue.
You let out breathy curses as your grip in his hair tightened and your back arched off the desk. Your thighs started to squeeze in around his head.
“Now I really do need to fuck you,” his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking harshly and drawing a loud moan from your lips. Your free hand gripped the edge of the desk for purchase as the coil in your core curled impossibly tight.
“I want to see you come undone on my cock.”
His lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking harshly and your orgasm fully crashed over you in a wave. Pleasure rushed through your body as your back arched off the desk and a moan poured from your lips, thighs squeezed tight around his head as you rode through your high on his tongue, core clenching around his fingers.
You fell back to the desk, pants escaping your lips and you heard Hongseok move back into his chair before he was pulling on your hips. He helped you slip off the desk and back onto his lap and you rested your head against his chest as you caught your breath.
“I really need to find out where those condoms are stashed.” You hummed.
“There’s a condom stash?” He asked.
“Wonwoo said there’s a condom stash.”
“Wonwoo said that?!” You felt him shift and look at you but you were far too comfy with your head resting on his chest to move.
“He did,” you said. “He said he knows someone who has a bunch.”
“Do you think if I asked where they are he would guess I was gonna use them with you?” 
“Oh definitely,” you laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ll get my hands on some.”
Hongseok settled back into his chair, hands squeezing your thighs before shifting a bit.
“Are you also feeling kinda sweaty?”
You peeked at him. “You wanna go shower?”
“I mean, no one else will be in there this time of night.”
You grinned at him before climbing off his lap and grabbing your shorts. Quickly, the two of you took off to the showers.
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Popsicle → Nakamoto Yuta
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↳  Pairing: Yuta/reader | smut
↳  Warnings: pure PWP, dirty talk, oral, face fucking
↳  Word count: 2,915
⁙ Summary: On a hot day during a vacation in Japan, Yuta becomes enamoured when he remembers that you’re one of the people that doesn’t bite their popsicles. 
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"Want one?"
Yuta looks away from the television, noticing that you are standing above him, skin glistening with sweat and holding out an unwrapped popsicle toward him. He nods appreciatively, taking it from you and realizing it's already started to melt. 
The hot Japanese summer permeated the little Airbnb you and Yuta were staying in, the air conditioning had gone out in the night. June bugs sang through the screen in the living room, the patio door having been opened to let in what little fresh breeze there was.
"Thank you," he says, immediately biting the red tip of the popsicle off. He sighed in relief, "if only the ac didn't go out on the hottest day of the year so far," Yuta complains, watching tentatively as you plop down on the couch next to him, hoping to catch some of the cooler drafts from one of the many fans strewn about the floor. 
"I agree, but at least we have the fans." 
Yuta hummed in agreement, nearly turning his attention back to a rerun of Dragon Ball Z, but decided not to as soon as you also began to eat your icy treat. If only your vacation had gone like Yuta had planned- then he would be with his family, showing you off to them and meeting with his mother in private to get her engagement ring resized to fit your finger. However, the two of you were stuck here, basking in a heatwave where nobody was advised to go outside at all.
You were dressed in the skimpiest outfit you could muster without looking too indecent- a light neon green tank top and blue cloth mini shorts. Even if you were sweating and panting in the heat, your appearance made Yuta's stomach flip.
Yuta was happy that there were a few popsicles left in the freezer, whatever was able to stay any sort of heat was welcome, popsicles being even more so. They were sweet, cold, and cheap. It kept his mind off of you- at least that's what he told himself.
There has always been a debate on the best way to eat a popsicle- especially your favourites: rockets. You either bit down and endured each flavour until you got to your favourite or you licked and sucked on it, dying your tongue and lips fully in red before you even reached the white section.
Yuta always preferred to bite his, while your method was the exact opposite. It was almost like you were trying to torture him; utterly consumed by the television while you practically shoved the entire thing down your throat and then brought it back up with an audible pop of your lips like it was nothing. Red dripped past your lips, but you managed to swipe the juice away with your tongue before it trickled down your chin. 
The more he watched, the more his imagination warped what really was in your mouth. 
"Yuta-kun, you're staring," you still have the popsicle resting on your lips, tilting your head in curiosity at your red-haired boyfriend. His popsicle was almost half-melted now, sticky sugar and flavouring running down his hands. His eyes widen and his face goes red, quickly looking away from you. You knew how it made him weak when you used that suffix.
"Sorry," he says quickly, running his tongue along his fingers and up to the melting treat when he bites down on it again. 
"It's okay," you waive it off quickly, smiling. "I was wondering how your teeth can handle chewing on a popsicle," you say, utterly oblivious to what was going on in your boyfriend's mind - taking the entire popsicle into your mouth again, humming in contentment.
A shrug is his only response, taking in a deep breath through his nose as he bit down again, harder this time, and he wouldn't have cared if the stick snapped. He hopes with all of his might that you don't look down at his tight jean shorts- he was embarrassingly fully aware that he was already getting hard.
The room goes silent again save for the television and the white noise of the fans. Once he knows you're absorbed in the show again, Yuta goes right back to staring at you. He pulls the last piece of his popsicle off the stick and chews on it, while you're just starting the blue section of yours. You're still sucking on it lovingly, your lips dyed a deep red; as if you had just applied a fresh coat of lipstick. 
Your tongue paid attention to the underside of the popsicle first, then brought the whole thing into your mouth, cheeks sucked in for but a few seconds before you brought it back out, swallowing audibly and licking your lips with a satisfied hum.
The longer he watched, the tighter his pants felt and the tighter his pants felt, the more uncomfortable he got. It wasn't until he was practically squirming in his spot that you looked over again, concerned. 
"Is the heat getting to you, Yuta?" You ask sweetly, finishing off the last of your own popsicle, leaving the stick in your mouth for a moment before gingerly pulling it out. 
"You could say that," he said stiffly, unsure if he should just bite the bullet and tell you what he wanted.
You hummed sympathetically, standing. "Maybe you should go into the bedroom and keep the lights off. I'll bring the biggest fan in. I don't want you to get heatstroke," you don't even wait for him to nod before gently taking his popsicle stick and turning to pad into the kitchen. Yuta had to hold back a groan when he noticed the creases where your thighs met your ass were visible beneath the hem of your shorts. 
Yuta quickly stands and makes it into your shared bedroom, flicking off the lights and closing the curtains, blocking the rays of warm sunshine as best he could. He gets some relief from the heat when he lies down face first on the floor, the wood beneath him thankfully hadn't absorbed much heat. 
His situation felt much worse as he lay, his pelvis pressed right up against the floor. He would have moved to lie on his back if the floor weren't so cool. He then closed his eyes to wonder how long you were going to leave him alone before bringing in a fan from the living room. He licked his lips and thought; maybe a little relief wouldn't hurt. 
He stuttered out a sigh as he moved his hips against the floor. Even if it was the smallest amount of friction, it was better than nothing. He choked back a moan as he moved back and repeated- licking his lips. He eventually settled into a rhythm of humping the floor, the image of your popsicle disappearing into your throat replaying in his mind. Oh, how he wanted that to be him. 
He doesn't know how much time had passed, but he freezes and holds his breath when he hears the bedroom door slide open. He sits up and turns to look at you, hands in his lap to avoid the stream of light coming in that could reveal his erection.
"Feel any better?" you ask sweetly as you haul in the largest square fan, plugging it in and aiming it at Yuta. 
"A little," he says. "Thank you."
"Anything for you," you say, closing the door and turning on the fan, plopping down to sit on the floor next to him. "Ahh, that's the stuff." 
"Sure is," he says slowly, biting his lip. It's dark again, and he feels himself subconsciously palming at his pants. It's starting to hurt, and he's tempted to just blurt it out-
"Do you want to watch me eat another popsicle?" 
Your question makes Yuta's breath hitch, looking at you with wide eyes. "Wh-what?" 
You're completely serious as you look him up and down through what little light was in the room. "Do you want to watch me eat another popsicle?"
Yuta began to sputter for a moment, not sure how to react or to respond to your question. "I, uh, what am I supposed to say?" Of course, he knew what he wanted; and if he had to somehow get off through his pants while watching you, he would.
Your smile returned. "You're supposed to say yes, silly." 
Yuta took in a deep breath and pushed his bangs back, feeling the sweat on his forehead. "Then yes," 
You grinned, but you didn't stand up. "Okay. Good." You lick your lips and only got up long enough to approach Yuta, pushing back his bangs gently and leaning forward to trap him in a kiss, your hands sliding to cup his cheeks. He instantly reciprocates, catching the message to scramble backwards so that he's leaning against the side of the mattress. 
When you separate from him, he watches you with wide eyes. "(Y/N)?" He nearly squeaks out your name, breathing heavily and wincing when your hands trail down from his face to his shoulders. You first unbutton his shirt, pushing it to the side to slide your hands down his tanned flesh. You smiled innocently as your index finger gave extra time to the thin happy trail that beckoned your eyes to the hem of his boxers that peeked from his jeans.
"Yuta-kun," you reply sweetly. "You're terrible at hiding things." 
Yuta sucked in a sharp breath when you began to unlatch his belt. "Y-you knew?" 
"Of course," you're slowly pulling down his zipper now, sticking your tongue out in concentration. "You watched me eat my popsicle and only looked away when I caught you. You know," you continue with a mischievous smile, "I don't think I've seen you this hard in a while."
"No, it hurts… please hurry," he's surprised at how desperate he really is; he's usually not this wanton- or you this bold. 
"Since you asked so nicely," you smile up at him, gently tugging down his pants and boxers, enough that you could shimmy them both off his legs. As soon as his cock sprang free, Yuta sighed with relief. 
You observed him with a loving gaze; his eyes half-lidded, absently flicking away his flowing bangs, panting and whimpering ever so slightly as you brought your mouth to the tip of his cock. It was one of your favourite sights.
Yuta gripped your hair gently as your cherry red lips kissed his tip. "Like… like you did with your popsicle…"
Humming, you comply. Your lips parted to consume him entirely, and you could barely contain a smile when Yuta let out an all-out moan as he hit the back of your throat. You worked on his cock in the same way you ate your popsicle, and it made Yuta shiver. 
You brought your mouth back up, leaving him coated in saliva. He didn't have any time to recover - you went right back down, your tongue swirling around him as you went. Then you were quickly licking stripes up and down his shaft. 
"(Y/N)," his breathing was heavy and hot, more sweat permeated his forehead. His hand gripped your hair tighter, taking in the sight of you growing more dishevelled, saliva and precum rolling past your lips and down your chin.
Once you lifted your head away, you slowly slipped your tongue out of your mouth to collect the dollop of precum collecting on your face. You're still working him gently with your hand as you catch your breath.
"Don't stop," Yuta commanded darkly, and your eyes lit up. 
"There he is," you say excitedly, licking your lips and swallowing thickly. "My Yuta," you giggled as Yuta grunted and gripped your hair tighter to push you back down on him. You started once again by bringing one of his balls into your mouth, smiling in triumph as you hear his moans echoing through the room. You work your way as slowly as you can, licking a wide stripe up his shaft, stopping periodically to sloppily kiss him. When you return to deepthroating him, you don't even gag, and Yuta's cock twitches in your throat from the sight alone. 
"Fuck," he gasps, "please let me fuck your mouth," 
You look up at him as best you can from your position, taking your mouth off of him with an obscene slurp and pop. You lick your lips, tilting your head to the side. "I thought you wanted this to be like my popsicle," you said innocently, and Yuta nearly scowled at you. 
"Please," his voice was dark and raspy, but you could tell he was desperate enough to start begging. His hand let go of your hair for but a moment, running his thumb along your bottom lip. "Please let me fuck your face." 
"Hmm, I don't think I will ever be able to say no to you," you say, kissing his abdomen, watching it twitch beneath your lips. "Okay." That was when you stood, peeling off your shirt. Yuta noticed you hadn't put on a bra today, basking in your half-nakedness as you haul yourself onto the mattress, lying face-up by the edge and opening your mouth to Yuta, flicking your tongue teasingly. 
He didn't waste time pushing his garments down and stepping out of them, leaning down to kiss you before standing up straight. He grabbed his cock tightly and stroked it as he hovered it over your face. 
"Don't make me wait, Yuta-kun," you whine, pouting at him. This was his turn to grin devilishly, deciding to comply with your request. 
As soon as he re-entered your mouth, he felt like he would immediately lose control. His cock was hitting the back of your throat perfectly, and you kept your tongue moving along his shaft and just under the edge of the swollen tip of his cock. 
"Fuck, this is so good, I'm gonna cum soon," Yuta could hardly contain himself, crewing his eyes shut tightly as he felt his world fall away into a blind search for his climax. His thrusting grew more erratic, causing you to finally start gagging on him. "Oooh," he groaned, feeling your throat constrict against him. "Oh fuck," 
You breathed through your nose as best you could, trying to endure Yuta's wanton fucking. You still enjoyed the feeling of his wet cock sliding against your tongue regardless. You would really need to catch your breath after he was finished, and you would definitely need to change your underwear. 
Yuta leant forward as far as he could, careful not to bend your neck too far against the edge of the mattress. He panted, grunted and moaned, moving his hands to knead your breasts and pinch your nipples. That was when you began to emit muffled cries as you lovingly choked on his cock, the vibrations of your throat sending him flying further into a frenzy.
"Gonna cum down your throat," he groaned, pinching your nipple tightly, reaching the peak of his speed, thrusting into your throat with all of his energy. "Fuck, feels so good, take it all," 
You felt as if precum and saliva were about to start spilling from your nose, but you were still close to cumming yourself. Yuta's touch on your chest, his words and the feeling of him wantonly fucking your face more than enough to leave you writhing. 
"Ooh, I'm gonna- take it, cumming, take it all… drink it, ah, fuck!" Yuta stills and you feel his length harden even further before he begins to twitch, hot salty liquid exploding into your mouth. Yuta stayed inside your mouth for what felt like an eternity, swallowing thickly and panting sharply. Once he finally pulled out, you could barely swallow everything before you started coughing. He took a moment to slide his boxers back on, turning the square fan to blow in the direction of the mattress.
Yuta took a seat on the edge of the bed beside you, gingerly placing a hand behind your head to help guide it into his lap. You move your body to lay comfortably, panting and regaining your own breath.
"Are you okay, baby?" If you had the energy, you would giggle at how concerned he looked. He pets your hair softly, threading through the tangles. 
"Yeah," you rasp, licking your lips of anything that may have escaped. "I just didn't know you had that in you."
"Me neither," he smiled sheepishly, looking you over. His eyes widen when his hand trails down to your shorts, clearly noticing the wet spot in between your legs even if his fingers barely touched it. "Did you-" 
"I, uhm… guess I really liked it?" You blush and look away, but it doesn't take Yuta long to start laughing sweetly, bending over to shower you with quick kisses. 
"Me too," he agreed quietly, "but I should probably get you all cleaned up. Bath or shower?" He tapped your chin with his index finger so you would look back up at him. He's looking at you curiously, waiting for your answer. 
"Bath, please." 
"Bath it is." Carefully, Yuta took you into his arms and slid the door open with his foot. Immediately you both were blasted with a wave of heat and intense sunshine, groaning at the vast difference in temperature.
"Cold bath," you whine, screwing your eyes shut to try and keep the sun out. "Ahh, it's so bright!" 
Yuta chuckled, kissing your forehead. "Yes, a cold bath."
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lemonhobgoblin · 3 years
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Deception: Loki One-Shot
A/N: Promised to make this one-shot like what 2 years ago...better late than never amirite. Imma try to write more probably during the summer when I’m not too busy with college. Cuz I have like 9 stories (at least 15+ ch. each) and another one-shot that I want to finish this year. 
Hope y’all enjoy
Loki x Reader 
Word Count: 1.2K
Warning: Slight NSFW, minor language, and slight fluff 
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The sound of muffled heavy rain and the low rumbles of thunder resounded throughout the Avengers base. As the rain pounded against the walls of the base, playing a calming rhythm. The halls, lab, gym, and rooms vacant of anyone to occupy, creating a perfect acoustic. Though faint muffled conversation could be heard. On a nonspecific floor, a commotion ignited within a dimly lit room. Pleading voices interrupting the calm ambiance, countering against the tranquil atmosphere. A dire match transpiring between three heroes and a ruthless demigod prevailing against them.
"Loki please don't do this to me." you urged.
"Brother listen to (Y/n), you'll regret this." Thor tries to reason but to no avail.
"My mind has been made up," Loki spoke with such malice intent.
"Please Loki..." A hushed whined slipping through your lips. Silence took hold for no longer than a couple of seconds as Loki looked down on you, reveling in the success of overpowering the three Avengers, especially you. How weak and hopeless you all looked before Loki, he couldn’t wait to see your face when he throws the last fatal hit against you. 
Too impatient to wait any longer, he broke the stillness, he reached forward towards you slamming down the finishing blow to bring an end to it all.
"No!" Peter shouted across the room. 
Loki drops a Draw Four Card on a pile of cards between the two of you, "Draw four and I choose the color to be blue. Which does not matter because I win," smiled smugly over at you, crossing his arms over his chest. 
"YOU'RE CHEATING!!!" You hollered at Loki, throwing your cards down on the coffee table between the two. All of you were sitting comfortably on the floor around the coffee table. Loki and you were playing a round of Uno, along with Peter and Thor who were watching the intense match, forgoing their own game of Jenga. Watching you lose once again to Loki, losing their minds joking over your loss and how Loki is in big trouble.
All of you were left to yourselves during this stormy weather. While the other Avengers were either on a mission or simply had personal affiliations to take care of on this rainy day. But boredom grabbing a hold on each of you eventually, mostly Peter and you. Leaving you to get the grand idea to enjoy simple games while playing some movies. Getting Thor to easily agree and pestering Loki from his reading to join in on the fun. However, you currently started to regret bringing Loki along to play.
"I most certainly am not, love, " Loki clasping his hands together in front of himself, allowing his head to rest on top. Staring lovingly at his partner in a sort of mocking way.  
"You won like 17 times in a row already, Mr. Loki. I'm pretty sure you are." Peter interjected earning a sideways leer from Loki. In turn, causing Peter to flinch from his gaze.
"Agreed, and this probably isn't the real Loki in front of us. A fake to distract to us" Thor threw a card at Loki, only to hit his head. Cocking his head and pursing his lips in confusion, proving himself wrong.
Loki, slightly annoyed and glared at the two other males, "Very much here and you two are still bitter after I won the first five rounds, true?"
 "True," Peter looking down in defeat.
Loki patting Peters back awkwardly before Peter made the crawl back to his end of the table. "Continue playing your 'Jenga', " Loki said, nearly feeling guilty at crushing Peter's hopes of winning at least one game of Uno. 
You leaned forward capturing Loki's attention. "Confess your sins now cheater."
Loki, leaning forward forgetting his small wave of guilt completely. Regaining his cockiness to prove you wrong. He enjoyed teasing you, watching you get all worked up and pouty; he found it cute.
"Sorry but there is nothing to confess (Y/n)," he said, continuing with his taunting smirk naïve to the accusation you placed on Loki. This earned a frown from you; you weren't buying the innocent act he was playing. You saw right through him, how he cheated you had no clue, but you were going to find out by any means necessary.
"Thor, can you please take Peter to get more snacks," you commanded more than requested, all the while not breaking eye contact with your mischievous lover.
"We still have plenty of popcorn-" Peter said, placing a block on top of the tower, only to stop mid-sentence the moment he made eye contact and saw the murder in your eyes. Thor following suit of Peter when he noticed the abrupt pause in his response.
"I personally feel like we need more snacks as well as drinks, "Thor slowing standing straight up along with Peter and quickly getting out of the room. Once they were out of sight and far away, you got up from your spot and walked around the table smirking, towering over Loki.
"Whatever you plan to do isn't goi-" 
You plopped yourself on Loki's lap, shutting him up. Your legs rested comfortably on either side of Loki, straddling him. Your hands placed at his groin and slowly you pressed against Loki. Taking note of how hard he was already and the shape of it. Not wanting to linger too long, you gradually trailed your palms upwards to his chest feeling him entirely. Your wandering hands coming to an end at his shoulders, settling them around his neck. Bringing yourself and Loki for a passionate kiss, and Loki gladly accepting this unexpected treatment, snaking his hands around your waist, embracing you closer to him, deepening the kiss. Allowing yourself to grind against him, moaning as Loki tongued around inside your mouth.
As much as you enjoyed making out with Loki and vice versa, you had to pull away for air but not without gently biting his lower lip and tugging at it. Releasing his lip, as you pulled away from him, you left a thin connected trail of saliva from each other’s mouth. Loki bringing a hand up, wiping away the trail from your glossy lips before holding your chin up to look at him.
"Was that my punishment, I must say that felt amazing," Loki mused.
"Really? Well so does this, " trailing your hands down to unbutton his pants, slipping a hand in, and pulling out a stack of power cards from his pants and not his dick to Loki's dismay.
"I FUCKING KNEW IT!!! THOR! PETER!"  running out the room with the stack in hand. Leaving a bewildered and aroused Loki behind. Realizing his love used their seduction to bring Loki's guard down. Again.
"Dammit, every time." Sighing, he was dumbfounded, at himself for both getting caught and getting sexually riled when you clearly were just trying to get answers out of him.
Allowing himself to flop back onto the plush rug beneath him, accepting defeat. Yet a small grin present on his face, he shook his head at the ridiculous sequence that played out only seconds ago. All the while knowing he would get back at you for this. Starting with the sizeable conundrum you created in his pants, that he is sure to get you to fix it the moment he has you all to himself. But for now, he was going to let you indulge in your triumph and continue spending his time playing games and watching nonsensical movies with you and the others.  
Because honestly, he loved you and your company, and right now he wanted to savor this simple moment before he lovingly fucks you ruthlessly later tonight. :)
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Thank you for reading <3
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One Night Standards - The Bad Ride (Part 1)
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One Night Standards - The Bad Ride Pairing: Jack Daniels (Whiskey) x Fem!Reader/OFC (Jo)
Summary: Whiskey is a man on the run. But before it all catches up, he's got a list of names and one rule: Never stay anywhere longer than one night. Too bad for both of you that rules were made to be broken.
Content: Rodeos, Some Smut, Angst, Arguments, Dive Bars, Whiskey is his own Warning
Rating: Explicit 18+
Word Count: 4.3K
A/N: Here we go again. Listen, it was only a matter of time before my cowgirl heart gave in.
Masterlist
Ready.
You were ready for the signal, ready for that sharp reverberating sound, ready for what would happen next.
You were tense yet calm as you waited, hands at home in their solid grip, reins and dark mane intertwining through fingers. Your legs were already braced for the frantic pace, heels down in your stirrups. You shifted forward in the saddle, leaning into momentum that hadn’t yet rushed over you.
Your horse danced beneath you, all anticipation and excitement, ready to shoot forward like a bullet out of a gun. Eleven-hundred pounds of strength and instinct submitting to your control. An intoxicating and powerful understanding that could pull you under quickly if you let it go to your head.
How many times had you done this? Hundreds? Thousands? Yet the attraction remained, humming through your bones and soul. This was one of your favorite parts. The buildup, the edge, the quiet before the roar.
Not that your surroundings could ever be considered silent. If you let yourself, you knew you’d be able to hear the claps and calls of the crowd, the stomping of boots on bleachers, the energy of a packed arena on a cool summer night in Texas. The noise threatened to overwhelm your senses, tangling up with the smells of sweat and leather, dirt and hay.
You didn’t let yourself hear it. You just waited for the bell. You just wait. Why does it feel like you’re always waiting?
“Next up,” the announcer’s voice blared through worn speakers, tinny and grating even as it soothed. The moment was arriving. “Rider number 76 Jo Montgomery on Runaway Luck.”
You hoped the name held true.
The bell screamed. The world shrank. And you went flying.
As you broke from the shoot, you wondered not for the first time if it was possible to live in this moment, to stay forever in a 20-second rush where you actually felt alive. But your mind was just as quickly cleared as everything you had zeroed to a series of movements you had to execute with precision.
The thunder of hooves matched your heartbeat as you counted. One stride, two strides, three strides, four strides, five strides, turn, press, lean, counterbalance, kick, kick, kick, run, lead change. The first barrel had come up quickly and you were already onto the second, your right hand guiding with the reins as your left gripped the pommel of your saddle to steady yourself.
As you rotated through the turn, the movement brought you dangerously close to the metal barrel. If you came close enough to tip one, you would be penalized, and it would cost you in more ways than one. It would also hurt like a son of a bitch.
You raced into the last straightaway, the dust of the arena leaving a cloud in your wake. It was deceptive how soft the landing looked beneath you, the small hills and valleys of dirt almost seemed as if they might rise up to catch and cradle you if you fell. But you’d seen enough riders crash and break against those waves to know it was a lie. Had fallen enough yourself to know the unforgiving collision is one you’d rather evade.
Two barrels done and only one remained. The rhythm and pattern were ones you knew without question. Every motion was dependable...until it wasn’t.
You felt the interruption as soon as it happened. There was a falter and jerk that shouldn’t have been there, and you knew, your luck was about to run out again.
You tried to draw up and pull back just enough, just enough that the correction didn’t make things worse. Didn’t send you into a tailspin instead of a skid. But just enough wasn’t enough.
Hooves that should have gripped and clattered against solid ground gave way and ran instead on air. A lean turned into a fall, and you tried to relax as your survival instincts yelled. You needed to soften your body since you couldn’t soften the ground.
You heard the crowd for the first time when you hit. Their cries of surprise and alarm echoed in your mind as you quickly rolled free of the danger. You weren’t down for long. You were up again before the dust settled, moving back towards your horse with careful and slow movements, hands open and visible, words soothing.
He was up, too. Horses never stayed down longer than they could help it. Millions of years of prey instinct compelled them back on their feet even when the pain should’ve told them to stay down.
You could see the fear in his dark eyes as he tossed his head and shifted, black mane standing up against the dark brown color of his hide.
“It’s alright, buddy. You’re alright.” You hoped your words were true. You didn’t like the way he was favoring his front leg. You came closer before planting your feet in front of him, reached out a hand with your palm facing him in invitation, and waited.
You let out a relieved sigh when his nose nudged your palm, stepped forward again now that he had given you permission. Once you had the reins secured, you brought your hand up the white blaze on his forehead to scratch at his ears.
“Good boy. I’m going to take a look at your leg, okay?”
Your voice was all honey and reassurance, the tone you always use when you talked to animals in distress. Your grandpa always said hearing it was their first dose of medicine.
The horse stood quietly, but you noticed the small tremor that passed beneath his skin when you ran your hands over the muscles, joints, and bones of his leg, assessing. It didn’t seem broken. You looked around for the vet on hand and saw him approaching.
“You okay, miss? That looked like a bad fall.”
You did a quick inventory. You were certain you’d be sore in the morning but no permanent damage had been done. “Fine, not sure about my guy here though.”
The vet nodded, and he crouched down next to you. He was small and wiry with white hair that indicated just how long he’d been at this. You stood up and crossed your arms as he examined your horse. You could’ve kicked yourself for agreeing to ride. You’d known better, but the alternative would’ve been to watch someone else ride and increase the likelihood of disaster.
“Feels like a sprain,” the vet said at last as he stood. “Let’s walk him off, and we can get some compresses and some wraps.”
You nodded and moved close to your horse, giving him your body to lean on as you slowly exited the arena to a round of applause. The crowd was relieved to see you both escaping unscathed. Little did they know…
You scanned the crowd for the owner. Wondered if he managed to even make it to the arena or just watched the feed from the trailer. You didn’t see him, but there was someone else focused on you with more than just passing interest in your fall.
A cowboy. Tall and imposing, leaning against the rail of the stands, wearing a black hat and jacket, a white tee, and dark-wash jeans that left little to the imagination. Dark eyes set in an angular face met yours and a shot of something electric passed through you.
“Which one?”
The vet recaptured your attention with his question and a touch of your shoulder. You pulled your gaze back to him. “Sorry?”
“Which stall are you in, miss?”
“35. Green Barn.”
He nodded, making note of it in his mind. “Let me go get a couple things, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Thanks.”
By the time you looked back to the stands, the cowboy was gone.
“What the fuck was that?”
The owner finally made his appearance as you were untacking back at the stall. He was redder than you’d ever seen him, his brown hair and mustache askew as if he had been pulling at both. The expression “hopping mad” came to mind.
Good, that makes two of us.
“What do you think it was, Harry?” You slipped your saddle off, blanket and all, and carried it to the stand outside the stall. You preferred to have your hands free if you were going to have this conversation, and you didn’t particularly want to be standing next to an already stressed horse if screaming was about to start.
You turned on him once you were free of your tack, placed hands on hips. “Luck lost his footing and fell. I told you that he wasn’t ready. He needed more time to heal.”
“Not ready?” He stepped forward into your space, but you didn’t back down. He was breathing hard, probably winded from having to get off his ass to come yell at you. You could smell the liquor on his breath. “Then the fuck am I paying you for?”
“You’re paying me to train your horse, to ride, and to try to undo the damage that you and that last hack job did. I can’t do that if you don’t listen to me. Next time—”
“Oh no,” he shook his head vehemently. “There will be no next time. You’re fired.”
Damn it.
“Fine,” you bit out, “you can fire me, but you need to hear me about Luck. If you keep pushing him like this, he’s going to end up lame.”
“Do you have any idea what that horse cost me? What he cost me today?”
“Harry,” you hissed, “I couldn't give a fuck if you lost your drinking money gambling on an injured horse.”
“You bitch.”
You were up in his face in an instant. “Call me, bitch, one more time. I fucking dare you.”
He looked for a second like he was considering it, but a small crowd had started to gather. “Get your shit and get out. You’re done.” He turned his back on you and walked away as you seethed.
A groom lingered just a little too long after the excitement, and you snapped at him before he scurried away.
Fuck.
You’d been counting on this job to at least carry you through the season. Your focus swung back to Luck, and hot tears started to prick at the back of your eyes as you drug yourself back into the stall to brush him down one last time. Harry certainly wouldn’t and at least it would give you a chance to say goodbye.
“I’m sorry, buddy. I wish we had more time. I wish I didn’t have to leave you with that asshole. I wish…”
So many things, but it never seems to make a difference.
You let yourself get lost in the circular motions of comb and whisk of brush as you moved over him. “I’m sorry.”
****
“Fuck.”
Jack Daniels pinched his nose between his fingers and let out a frustrated sigh. The drag of his whiskers against his hand as it drifted down his face reminded him that he needed to shave. At this point, he had about a week’s worth of stubble that now could be classified as scruffy beard.
“What can I get you?”
Jack didn’t even glance up from his notebook as he murmured “whiskey” to the waiting bartender. He studied the last several pages, tried to determine where his intel had gone wrong.
Waste of time. Another fucking waste of time.
How much had he lost getting here and with nothing to show for it? How long could he keep this up?
The bartender set a tumbler of cheap whiskey on the bar in front of him, and Jack tossed it back before the liquid even had time to settle after its journey from the bottle. Certainly not his brand of choice, but he hadn’t planned to sip and savor it. He was just looking to take the edge off.
The door opened, and on reflex, Jack looked up to assess the new arrival. He hadn’t expected anything too exciting. He’d made sure of that. Plus, the bar was a dive, barely lit, floors sticky, the smell of stale beer and smoke permeating every surface. Its biggest selling point was that it was far off the beaten path, yet close enough to his motel that he’d been willing to risk the outing.
The barely swallowed whiskey caught in his throat and made him cough when he sucked in a breath at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
You already know you are, Jack.
He thought he might take the sentence gladly though if you were going to be the one to deliver it.
He knew for certain that it was you. Long, loose black hair that a man would love to lose his fingers in, dark soul-scorching eyes, a mouth made for sin that you’d been kind—or cruel—enough to paint red, and a lithe figure that moved with an air of reckless confidence.
You had changed out of the black chaps, shirt, and hat you’d worn for your ride today, understandable given the getup was more suitable for a show than a bar. As alluring as that look had been, however, the one you were in now might have been more so. Your black jeans were practically painted on and paired with a dark green low-cut tank top that gave a glimpse of your lower abdomen where your denim jacket didn’t cover.
He’d been captivated the minute you’d galloped into the arena, drawn in by your looks but held by the expression of pure exhilaration and joy on your face as you flew. He’d felt himself being pulled to the edge of his seat as he’d watched, had been on his feet and at the railing before he even realized he’d moved when you fell. He’d laughed when you’d popped back up after recovering from your controlled roll, watched with fascination as you had moved to soothe your injured horse. He had doubted you even knew if you were hurt yourself yet.
He knew very well what it was to have that kind of singular focus on the job at hand, to be able to brush everything else aside because that’s what needed to be done. He knew how he had learned it, wondered how you had.
Then you’d looked his way as you’d been about to leave the arena and he’d felt…a charge? A spark? He wasn’t sure what to call it. You had been pulled away and he had needed to move before he could linger long enough to figure it out.
But here you were again.
He watched you, cloaking himself in the dark atmosphere of the bar and the downward tilt of his hat. You were clearly upset as you sank into the booth and buried your face in your hands. When a waitress appeared at your table, you looked up only long enough to order a drink.
Jack wondered if maybe he could make you smile. It was a sight he knew he’d love to see again, and maybe, just maybe…
God, he was so tired, exhausted from the winding, sleepless path he’d taken to get here. He hadn’t found what he was looking for, but maybe…maybe, it didn’t have to be a total loss? He’d bought himself some time…he could use it on a distraction. Just this once.
The waitress came back to the bar. “Can I get a shot of tequila for the new table?”
“Hey, uh, why don’t you put that on my tab?” Jack offered, and the waitress smirked at him.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree with that one, cowboy,” she warned, tossing her blonde hair and giving him a look that invited him to reconsider.
“Appreciate the warning, but why don’t you let me worry about that?” He countered, still not wanting to take his eyes off you.
“Suit yourself,” she purred back at him and slid the shot his way when it arrived. “Go ahead. You can deliver it to her yourself.”
“Thank you.” Jack grabbed the glass and crossed to the other side of the small room, very aware of the eyes on his back.
After he set it down in front of you, he nudged it your way before he cleared his throat. After 10 months on the run, he was out of practice really talking to anyone, let alone a woman he was attracted to. When you didn’t look his way, he tried again, “Miss?”
Your head whipped up at the sound of his voice, and your eyes registered your surprise. “Well,” your voice was smooth and rich, “didn’t expect to see you again.”
Jack grinned at the implication that you remembered him, too, that those few seconds in the arena had made some sort of impression on you as well as him.
“Likewise,” he replied. “Can I join you?”
You considered him, and Jack felt himself pull up straighter as he folded his arms across his chest. He regretted that he hadn’t shaved, that he didn’t have on one of the sharp suits he once wore, but perhaps he could make up for that in other ways. He still had some tricks after all.
“See something you like, darlin’?”
You snorted, not the reaction he’d been hoping for, and he was afraid that he’d blown his shot with a cheesy line. Just another part of his old persona that appeared better left behind.
“I’m not a darlin’, and I’m still deciding,” you shot back, but you gestured at the booth across from you. Jack sat, leaned back, and tried to project a casual comfort he didn’t feel. “So…” You shot your tequila without flinching. “What brings you here?”
Jack smirked. “That’s a long tale, but suffice it to say that tonight, I was just looking for a strong drink.”
“Same.” You brought the wedge of lime to your mouth, wrapped your lips around it, and sucked. Jack shifted, trying to control his growing hard on. The things he’d like to do with that mouth…
“I mean,” you continued, “you saw the kind of day I had.”
Jack nodded. “Sorry to say, I did. You handled it well though. You’re not hurt?”
“A few bumps and bruises. I’ve had worse.” You were still looking at him in a way that made him feel like you were sizing him up. “Why do I suspect you have as well?”
He shrugged. “I might’ve been tossed around pretty good once or twice.” Not usually by a horse. “Had a pretty shit day myself,” he admitted.
“Well in that case,” you looked back towards the bar, “Can we get another round?”
****
A second round had soon turned into a third, and a pleasant warmth was spreading through your body that had less and less to do with the tequila in your bloodstream and more and more to do with the man sitting across from you.
He had a quiet but commanding presence about him, accentuated by a low, slow, purposeful way of talking. He certainly wasn’t bad to look at either. Those eyes were even more devastating up close, paired with a sharp nose, a strong jaw, and full lips that you wouldn’t mind getting between your teeth.
There was an impulsive energy ricocheting between you, both of you taking turns moving closer, letting gazes linger just a bit too long, that electric spark you’d felt when your eyes connected growing, threatening to catch and burn. You had it in your mind to encourage it.
So far you’d both managed to skirt around any details that were too personal (including names), but had still managed to fill an hour with conversation. He’d asked about and then listened attentively when you’d told him about the events after your ride, had raised a glass with you in a toast “to assholes getting what’s coming to them.”
When you’d asked what had made his day “shit” as he’d put it, he simply replied, “Someone wasn’t where they were supposed to be.”
That line of questioning appeared to be closed after his response, and you decided not to push him. You already had enough sad stories. You wanted something different.
“So,” the conversation had hit a lull while you weighed your next step, “moving on then? After tonight?” He asked his arm resting over the back of the booth.
“Yeah, most likely. I’ll have to go find another job. You?”
“Yes.”
“Hm,” you let your eyes slowly trail down his face, neck, and chest, then back up, let them hang on his lips before they flickered back to catch his gaze. He was watching you intently, and he leaned forward when you did. You smiled mischievously. He swallowed.
“On your feet,” you requested.
His eyebrows shot up but he did as he was told. A good sign that he was capable of following directions. You stood, too, taking stock of the several inches he had on you in height, the way his broad shoulders tapered to narrow hips, and the span of his hands when he rested them there, not to mention the sizable… Yeah, he’d do.
Before you could second-guess yourself, your hand reached out and fisted in his shirt as you pulled him to you. Your mouth crashed against his, the top of your head bumping against his hat. The press of your lips was a firm invitation, but you didn’t move to deepen it. Instead, you waited for him to make the next advance, but he just stood there, frozen.
Damn, how fucking disappointing.
You let him go with a sigh. “Alright, well thanks for the drink.”
“Hold on.” He seemed to shake himself out of the trance and came towards you again, but you were already stepping around him, moving quickly towards the exit. You shouldn’t have expected the day to do a turnaround, had set yourself up for this one.
“Bye, cowboy,” you called out over your shoulder, and you were out the door. You heard it open again a few moments later as you were already walking in the direction of your motel.
“Hey! Hold up!”
“I don’t do second chances, cowboy.” You didn’t even look over your shoulder as you said it.
“Give me one anyway.” You could hear his boots as they crunched into the loose gravel of the parking lot, a quick scuff as he picked up his pace.
“Why should I?” He was behind you now and you were about to turn on your own when strong fingers closed around your wrist and pulled you back, spinning you to face him.
“Let me show you.” His other hand came up to cup and hold the nape of your neck as he brought you back to him. And this time when your lips met, neither of you held back.
He moved quickly into your space, forcing you backward until your back hit brick, and you were pressed up against the outside wall of the bar. His body slotted against yours in a way designed to overwhelm you, designed to show you just how big he was, to know the strength and muscle that waited beneath his clothing. When his denim-clad thigh found its way between yours, you could feel how hard he was against your hip.
Your lips parted in a soft gasp, and his tongue was in your mouth as his fingers started digging into your waist. You both warred for control of the kiss, tongues pressing, teeth nipping, hands grabbing. He tasted like the whiskey that had filled his glass. You wanted him to taste of you.
You arched against him as he caged you against the wall, and he temporarily moved the battle to different ground, left hot open-mouth kisses along the column of your throat. His hands skimmed along the exposed skin of your stomach, drifting higher as your tank top did, the desire for more clear in the press of his fingertips. Your own fingers found his belt buckle, tugged him closer, closer. You needed him closer to satisfy the growing ache.
“Since you seem to be open to second chances now, how about we take this elsewhere?” He asked, shifted his thigh to press more firmly to your core as he rubbed against you.
“Where did you have in mind?” Your voice sounded breathy even to your own ears, and you dragged your teeth along his jaw, fisted your hands in his shirt so he wouldn’t think he’d won your submission just yet.
“I’m staying at the...” He trailed off when you tangled your fingers in the soft curls that brushed the collar of his jacket, tugged so he’d tilt his head back, and you could devote some effort to sucking a mark into his neck. “Fuck, I’m staying at the motel down the street.”
“Okay,” you nodded into the crook of his neck, waited for him to step back. But he didn’t. Instead, his hands came up to frame your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in a gesture that felt far too tender after all the heat that preceeded it.
“I can’t—I can’t do more than...” The end of his sentence was lost as you brought your mouth back to his. You knew the direction he was going.
“One night,” you murmured against his lips, then drew back so you could meet his eyes. “For both of us. We both get what we need. Deal?”
“Deal,” he said, but you thought you saw a flash of something like sadness in his eyes before it was swallowed up again in desire. He stepped away from the wall at last, but not before he took your hand in his, pulling you towards what happened next.
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theficplug · 3 years
Text
l Sunflower Vol. 6 l Harry Styles l
Harry Styles x Black Reader
Warnings: none , pure fluff
[harry and reader feels like it’s just time to let the world know.]
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As Harry was coming to an end of an era with the Fine Line album. Sunflower Vol. 6 was the last of the bunch to receive a visual to the groovy almost psychedelic track. 
You remember when the idea of the song came up. You had explained where your nickname Sunflower came from. 
-flashback-
He was sitting on the couch in your shared home with his guitar resting gently across his chest playing the same melody and humming sunflower to himself while watching the rain fall down heavily through the cracked window.
The slight breeze coming through blew his disheveled hair around. Harry had been up all night saying that he didn’t wanna forget the cords and the rhythm of the song that was still coming to him.
You quietly walked down the stairs to find him still up humming and tapping along to the beat as he tried to get into the groove. 
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he asks quietly as he sits the guitar aside and opens his arms for you.
“No, but the cold giant you shaped empty spot in the bed did. Tea?” you ask chuckling softly before handing him the mug in your other hand and kissing the top of his head. 
You had also brought blankets with you and draped it over the both of you while settling onto his lap and resting your head on his shoulder. You watched as he instantly relaxed and settled back against it at the sound of your voice. Placing a gentle kiss to your forehead he accepts the pink mug.
“Thank you love.” he says quietly to you before trailing his hands up and down your leg gently as he takes small sips of the earl grey. 
“I love nights like this. It reminds me of growing up back home. My mama would yell at my dad and me for dancing around in the rain.”Don’t come in here asking me for vapor rub and soup when y’all are coughing up a storm”. She would say with her face all scrunched up. But we knew it was from a place of love because every time she’d end up running out to joining even if only for a few minutes and she had an umbrella. But the deal was that I couldn’t complain about being woken up at 5am to get the hot comb before school. She knew she couldn’t resist dancing to My Girl with us. To our neighbours who were always in our business we probably looked like a bunch of maniacs just laughing and being happy to love and be loved. ” you explained to him and he would chuckle softly and tell you about how he wished he knew you when you were kids.
 He swears that he would’ve known then that you were it for him.
“I was 6 years old when I got the name Sunflower. As usual it was my mother, father , and I sitting on the porch. I was just sitting eating sunflower seeds and staring out at the rain. Waiting for my father to set up the radio and put our favourite songs on. We ran out onto the grass and as he twirled me around. My father said to me “you’re my sunflower because you always grow towards the sun and bring such a light to our lives. Becoming your parents was the best day of our lives. Getting to see you grow is the small moments of magic in this life. That’s how I knew you were the one for me. Because he didn’t think anyone was good enough for me, but when he met you and you actually got him to laugh with you and say yes to proposing to me. I knew this was it.” you explain and laugh at his expression. 
“Bae, are you tearing up?” you ask as he leaned over to kiss all over his face then peck his lips. 
“I’ve just got something in my eye. That’s all. I just can’t wait to share how much I love you with the world. I want them to feel that when they listen to this album.” 
“And they will” you reassure him 
-present-
After over a year and a half of dating and being engaged you knew that it was time to share it with the world. There was only so much can take after 10 years of speculations. He was more than ready to tell everyone that there was only one woman he wanted to spend his life with. 
He’d like to have a meal with a childhood friend without him being painted as a cheater on someone he wasn’t even dating in the first place. 
A sigh of relief washed over you both when the video finally wrapped. You remember telling Harry that if you were going to be a part of this video you wanted the entire crew to be black or at least of colour. 
“Those are my rules , Harold. I wanna put my people on, and no offense baby  but can’t nobody white touch this fro. I haven’t let anyone besides my mother do my hair since I was a little girl. You got me? ” you expressed to him and he nodded because he had already had the idea in mind knowing he wanted to put his money where his mouth is with supporting black creatives.
He began searching social media for black hair stylists, videographers, directors , and everyone else that would be needed to get the project done. 
Now it’s less than 24 hours before the world would know about what has been sweetly yours for a little over a year. 
From what you could tell a lot of people assumed that his album was about exes or previous relationships but on the contrary he had actually written one song for closure about a past situation. The rest of the entire album was essentially about you,and how he fell in love with your kindness and how much he adored you. Some of the fans who listened closely picked up on the line in Adore You. ‘Your wonder under summer skies. Brown skin and lemon over ice’ . It was about the vacation you two took a few months before the pandemic right after he wrapped on his newest film. He swore that your mahogany skin glowed under the warm July sun and against the cerulean coverup. That man looked at you like someone told him that you were made out of pure gold. Thus sparking his first track on the album, Golden. You two were even papped together while on the beach with your families but of course most just assumed that you were a family friend. It seemed to be a trend when he’s photographed with a woman of colour before but he reassured you that he was single when he asked you on a date the day he met you at the farmers market. 
-flashback-
He tumbled over his words while trying to ask you about what kind of jam you would recommend for him to bring home to his mother.
“I’m gonna be at her home for the weekend and just thought that I’d bring a few things for breakfast while I’m there. Yours caught my eye. Are these little sunflowers all over the jars?” he asks as he bends down to inspect them. 
“Yeah , you like it? It’s kind of my brand. It’s been a bit of a slow day. I think it’s because it’s gonna rain. Never one to be scared of a little rain. I can tell that this is gonna taste far better than bringing home a jar of Nutella.” you say to him with a small smile on your face. 
After grabbing a plastic spoon for him to try out peach, strawberry, and cherry. He ended up purchasing several jars of all 3, but the cherry jam was his favourite and blushed the entire time you scooped the spoon in his mouth. 
“What’s it like to be so lonely like this? I feel like it would be difficult to not be able to be out with others because you don’t want them to have to go through all of this.I feel like even though someone’s “famous” you’ve got to at least treat people with kindness and some level of respect. ” you say to him as the people pushed their way over to your boutique once they realized who was standing there.
You didn’t even really know who he was because you hadn’t been into One Direction in their prime. So, you knew he was a big deal from the whispers and people walking up to him and asking him for pictures and practically offering him their entire supply. But you just knew him as the dorky slightly awkward and weird cutie standing in front of you in the giant sunhat and pearls that stuttered while trying to tell you about his time working in a bakery before they came over. 
“It’s alright. You kind of just learn to adapt to all of it after 10 years. . I worked there for like a year but we never had anything that tasted this good!” he admitted and you would giggle softly at the complement and give him your number on the receipt. You could see him doing a little shimmy while waving the number in the air. 
-present-
You think back to the conversation fondly before Harry’s low and soothing voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he peeks his head into the room to ask if you want to see the finished video.
You followed him to his little makeshift studio in your home and take a seat on his lap so that you both could see it.
Harry had come up with the concept of you being a sunflower and him being like a bee because he swore he was drawn to you from the first conversation you two had ever said.
He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your side. He was already trying to hide his smile as the video started with you in a canary yellow dress that flowed over your body making you look like a sun goddess as you twirled with the sunflowers in your afro.
You soaked in the sun and swayed to the music before Harry came into focus. 
You remember that day his mother and your parents were on set because they were going to make a cameo at the end and both of your mothers had been behind the camera giving you both thumbs up and standing with their hands over their hearts the entire time. 
Harry dances across the screen dressed in bumblebee-esque colours with the black and yellow as he danced around you and you looked over at him wide eyed before moving away from him. You followed the script and continued to dance around to the music doing your own thing as he danced around you to get your attention. 
“You look so beautiful babe. Look at you! God damn I am a lucky bastard, aren’t I?” he says giddily laughing and smiling like a boy on the schoolyard with a crush. 
“Oh stop, but keep going.” you say jokingly as you pat his thigh softly. 
“I mean it. You could’ve gone on set just like this with no makeup and wearing this old shirt and looked like perfection itself.” he complements and it was your turn to break into a smile cause this man really was the sweetest little thing.
“Right back at you, sweet thing. I love how they cut your hair for the video. That was probably the best line up you’ve ever had. It was a game changer wasn’t it? You didn’t know black barbers are magicians.” you say giggling as you watch him prance around in the video in the yellow and black suit. 
It comes to the part of the video where your parents and his mother both walk into the shot and your father takes your hand and dance with you as the mothers dance together. 
Harry glides over to you and asks for your hand and your father puts yours in his. 
He twirls you around as the parents look on and you both show your engagement rings to the camera and smile up at each other. 
By the end of the video you and Harry blow a kiss at the camera before sharing a moment of pressing your forehead against his and the video ends.
You sniffle and dab at your eyes with a napkin from his desk and he turns to you before leaning into press kisses to your cheeks and lips.
“I love you and you know that there isn’t anyone else I would wanna tell the world about. It’s going to be just fine because I plan on making you happy for the rest of your life.” he reassures you and you nod before kissing his nose.
“What else can I say Harold? You went from being the awkward sweetheart that wrote me love letters and sung me to sleep when we couldn’t be together to someone I could not imagine life without. If people can’t see that there’s nothing but love and happiness here that’s their business. But this is ours.” you say to him knowing that it’s out of your element to feel so sappy but with him you just can’t help it.
The next day the video dropped along with the caption ‘it’s also our anniversary. So be kind or leave. All the love, H.’ 
The outpour of love and support from his fans and other celebrities was ridiculously overwhelming but well received as you made sure to make a small short follow up video thanking them for all of the love, well wishes, and compliments.
[ a little different for me but i hope you still enjoyed it to the lovely person who requested it !]
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nctsjiho · 3 years
Text
Jam Session
warnings: none
era: Summer of 2020
❀ Mark and JiHo have a little jam session in her room
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A soft knock sounded at the door of JiHo’s room. She hummed loud enough for the person behind the door to hear and soon after the door opened. JiHo looked up from her position on her bed, where she had made herself comfortable with her phone in her hand. In the doorway stood a sheepish looking boy with wide innocent eyes. A chuckle pushed past JiHo’s lips as she eyed Mark’s timid figure. “What’s up?”
Mark took a step into the room and held up his guitar that he had brought down from his dorm, five floors up. With a confused look JiHo spoke, “You know Haechan’s room is on the other side of the hallway right?” The boy just ignored her and settled down in front of her on her bed.
“I’m not here for Haechan.” This confused JiHo more. It wasn’t unusual for Mark to come down here with his guitar. The members would sometimes have evening jam sessions - though usually they would be held on the 10th floor since the 5th floor had some uptight neighbours. When it was just Mark and his guitar coming over, it was either because him and Haechan wanted to practise some covers and play around a bit, or him and Taeyong were planning out some potential NCT or SuperM songs. So it came as a bit of a shock to hear that Mark wasn’t planning on doing either of those things.
“What brings you here then?” The girl squints, curious about why he had come down all this way. “It’s just been a while since we’ve sang together. So I thought-” “Oh no, dude I’m not singing.” JiHo interjected. The boy sighed and threw his head back a little. “Dude, I haven’t heard you sing like this in such a long time!” Mark whined causing JiHo to start feeling bad. “You know I don’t really sing. And definitely not like this.” She motioned to the guitar.
Mark knew that JiHo was insecure about her voice, something that no one understood because she could’ve easily been a main vocalist if she had the confidence for it.
“JiHo listen, I don’t care if you suck or if you sound like an angel. There’s no pressure, no one is watching. It’s literally just us, jamming for fun. I can even bet you that my voice will crack at least once if we sing together.” He explained trying to ease the tension. JiHo smiled a little at his last statement. “Well, your voice cracking, that’s just a given.” She commented with a mischievous grin which had Mark groaning. “Okay fine, but please. Just this one time.” His fingers fidgeted around the strings, like they were waiting for JiHo’s signal to start strumming a song.
A few seconds pass in silence before JiHo exhaled loudly. “Okay! Only this one time. And afterwards don’t you dare bring your guitar anywhere near my room.” Mark nodded excitedly. “I’ll use that guitar right there then.” He joked, pointing towards the guitar sitting in the corner of the room. JiHo rolled her eyes but didn’t comment on it further and Mark began strumming a familiar tune on the instrument in his hands.
Back in 2019 JiHo had once told Mark that ‘Superhuman’ was probably one of, if not her favourite song of theirs. She loved performing that song so much and was sad when the their promotions and the tour ended.  She also shared about how singing it together that one night in the air bnb in Brooklyn was one of her favourite memories. Some of the boys were either drunk or extremely sleepy, but they all sang it together and it became such a fond memory.
That’s why Mark had figured out the cords and a good arrangement to play it on the guitar. An acoustic version specially made for JiHo. The girl’s eyes were looking down to her lap where her hands tapped along to the rhythm of the song and they began to sing. They kind of figured out who was singing what part at what times, with JiHo mostly singing the main vocal line with Mark harmonizing and him taking his own rap parts when JiHo stopped for him to sing.
“If you wanna feel it say yeah~” “Yeah~” Mark added and he let the last note of the guitar ring through the room. The two basked in the lingering mood of the song before Mark spoke up. “You’re such a good singer, you know that right?” JiHo just dismissed the compliment with a wave of her hand and Mark decided to just move on to the next song.
They sang a plethora of different songs. Some being their own, some being mainly rap songs, but most were some Mark thought would really fit JiHo’s voice.
“Once you gain a bit more confidence I swear you can just take Doyoung hyung or Taeil hyung’s parts.” Mark laughed, but he was being somewhat serious. He really believed that JiHo had a great voice and there wouldn’t be a reason for her not to get more vocal lines and high notes in their songs. Not that he didn’t think she wasn’t doing a good job as a rapper. On the contrary, she was doing too good of a job to only get the small amount of lines she does get, but that was just one of the down side of having so many members in a group. There were so many members who didn’t get that many lines, luckily they would get more on side tracks in the album or they would have more parts in a next comeback.
JiHo had only given the boy a sad smile, fully aware that her confidence was the main culprit in her career and her live in general. She wouldn’t like to admit that her confidence - or well, her lack thereof - had gotten in the way of opportunities because she had been quick to turn them down at the thought of stepping out of her comfort zone. The boys knew about this to a certain extent, but if only they knew what kind of jobs and opportunities she had turned down, she would most likely have all of the boys nagging at her.
She was so good at faking her confidence on stage, but when it came to certain things, her confidence tanked completely and she’d rather turn away one of the best things that could ever happen to her, than to confront it and possibly get engulfed by anxiety. Luckily she didn’t always have to fake confidence, she was pretty happy with her dance and rap skills and she didn’t care too much about looks as she kept her body healthy and in good shape almost all of the time. It was mostly the singing that made her anxious so she was happy for the amazing vocalists in her group being in charge of all that responsibility.
Mark had stood up and sent the girl a thumbs up. “Cheer up, dude. You did really great and I had a lot of fun.” “Yeah, I actually had a lot of fun as well.” A playful smile formed on the boy’s lips. “So tomorrow again?” Before JiHo could protest Mark walked out the room. “See you tomorrow!” JiHo rolled her eyes at Mark’s antics, but smiled when he heard Haechan stop him in the room and yell at him for betraying him and not coming to sing with him instead.
She actually hadn’t mind singing with Mark. Initially she was a bit nervous, but then again it was only him and her and if anyone else were to hear her it was only going to be her roommates who’ve already heard her sing enough times before. Not quite sure if Mark was actually going to stop by the next day to sing together again, JiHo got herself ready to go and sleep. This time she didn’t dread the thought of singing and for once was kind of excited to sing.
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Side note: This wasn’t really Mark focused ig (?? idk), so I’m gonna try to do another Mark post soon-ish (don’t count on it). This idea just came to me an hour ago and I only have a few hours left before I post this, so I wrote it pretty quickly. It’s not really that good of a post so I’m sorry for that. (if you haven’t, my previous post ‘Still My Favourite’ with Jeno was pretty cute so you could read that one, I posted it yesterday ^^ shameless self promo on my own blog wow-)
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nautiscarader · 2 years
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Kainora and 16 Secret rendezvous
(ao3)
Jinora remembered visiting the Western Air Temple, hidden away from prying eyes in a deep chasm where only flying bison could reach.
She remembered walking around its empty chambers, wondering how it looked like when Airbenders were still around.
And now, she wished the place was empty.
Kai's kisses were insatiable, as he was determined to stop at every turn of the lengthy stone corridors and sneak just one or two more, as the young couple were trying to get out of the place, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
But with both Air Acolytes brought by her grandfather, and with new Airbenders training, it wasn't so easy. At first, she wanted to meet him in his chambers, but coincidentally, whoever was in charge of assigning them, chose one opposite of her father's. Almost as if it was him...
So, as the sun settled, the two young adults made their way to the balconies, where the flying bison rested. Jinora nearly gave them away when Kai sneaked another quick kiss, and in the moment of passion, she almost let out a loud moan, as he pressed his body against the stone column.
For a fleeting second, as she felt his hand around her waist, her mind turn to bliss and she realised it would be completely normal to celebrate with her boyfriend right here, right now...
But then, a low grunt make her senses come back.
- Pepper! - Jinora turned her head at once, feeling her flying bison's stare on hers and Kai's coiled bodies.
The bison replied with a gentle growl and with what otherwise would be very knowing looks.
The two jumped on her back, Jinora stroking her companion that already began turning around.
- Yip, yip. - she whispered.
Next moment, they were in the air, navigating the rocky passage, first flying low to avoid any other Airbenders and outposts above the ground, and only after they passed the river crossing, flying upwards.
But steering a flying few-tonne bison wasn't as easy when one had a constant distraction behind their back.
- Kai!
Jinora giggled, feeling her boyfriend's arms closing around her waist, as he glued himself to her back, peppering her exposed neck with kisses.
- What? Isn't that what your dad kept telling us? "When flying as a passenger in a small saddle, always make sure to cling to the flyer, they know their bison's behaviour best"...
He imitated Tenzin's voice, making Jinora's laugh echo around them. At this point, Jinora was sure they were alone, as the bison flew to another, half-dilapidated balcony, onto which the two swiftly jumped, Kai catching Jinora mid-flight.
- Okay, girl, I'll call for you.
She patted her bison gently, expecting a familiar growl. But instead, she received the same judgemental stare.
- Don't give me that! - she stomped - It's Summer, you will soon get into heat and you will know how does it feel...
She lowered her voice and gave Pepper a gentle kiss, to which the bison responded licking her cheek, before flying away.
- Can I get the same treatment? A lick for a kiss? - Kai asked, once more coiling is arms around her. - Maybe...
And with no one else in sight, the two Airbenders could finally express their love for each other, without being interrupted. And Jinora knew that even her father didn't know about this part of the temple... mostly because she made sure to keep it secret.
Jinora jumped into the air, and closed her legs around his back, moaning when she felt his hands first in her as and then her waist again, before he let her go, making her cling to his body. Having complete faith in him, she closed her eyes and let him fly them on his air ball to the only chamber in this section the two have claimed as theirs.
Her lips were joined with his in a seemingly endless kiss, that sadly had to end when Jinora felt the soft pillow and blanket underneath her, she nicked some time ago.
On one hand, the philosophy of Airbenders scoffed at the idea of material possession, as it strengthened the connection to the mortal plane.
On the other, whoever came up with it, never had sex on a stone-cold floor.
She let out a much louder moan, as Kai's fingers danced around her robes, undoing a few knots that held them together, much like Jinora did with his.
And as she continued doing this, his body was slowly uncovered to her, presenting her with a sight she only dreamt about.
- I'm so proud of you... - she whispered when she saw the traces of blue pigment on his skin, forming long arrow tattoos that covered his slim, but muscular body. - It took me three years longer than you... - I had a head-start. - she joked - And speaking of a "head start"...
She reached into his crotch and uncovered last part of his body that remained hidden from her. His cock might not have been covered in Airbenders' paint, but its head resembled the arrows, pointing towards her mouth.
Kai let out a gasp when Jinora ducked, and without a second of hesitation, she closed her lips around him, feeling his scent and taste in her mouth. And with each bob of her head, she took more and more of him, eager to finally achieve something she couldn't.
Her hands weren't idle either. Her left cupped his testicles, feeling the tension and goosebumps on his skin, while her right caressed his back and ass, knowing how much pleasure it brought him, after having his body shaven and tattooed.
But the most rewarding was his voice, more mature and deeper than when they first made love, responding to each and every twist of her tongue around his length.
At the same time, she heard his breathing and with a pride and pleasure in her chest, she recognised it was following her teachings on how to calm one's soul...
Well, until she gently traced her finger between his testicles again.
But he wasn't the only one trying to push himself forward. With controlled breathing, Jinora was able to take more him into her mouth, and then into her throat, a feat she only read in one very naughty book she borrowed.
At this point, she knew that no amount of teachings and practice would keep his urges on a leash, and with his rising voice, she looked up at her boyfriend, and the sight of a lusty spark in her otherwise innocent eyes made him lose it.
Stream after stream of his seed filled her mouth, giving Jinora another challenge, to ensure not a single drop of his would escape her seal. His hip bucking wildly didn't help, but as his erratic breathing and moans subsided, Kai was rewarded with guttural sounds of his load being swallowed, as Jinora concentrated on the final task of her own challenge.
When she let go of him, she licked her lips, leaving no traces of his orgasm on her, aside from the lingering taste and smell that made her feel intoxicated a moment ago.
Kai's excitation only deepened when Jinora's mouth continued her journey up his body, kissing his torso and, as she got to his arms, his tattoos, once more bringing relief to his still aching skin.
But the more she climbed into his laps, the more Kai felt obligated to repay for his girlfriend's loving caresses.
- Jinora, let me- - No. - she quickly reassured him - It's your time to celebrate.
And with that, the young master Airbender hopped onto his cock, letting him fill her overflowing, wet sex in one, quick swoop.
- Besides, I wasn't joking to Pepper about that heat...
Their lips met again, as Jinora proved her needs, bouncing quickly up and down, while their hands searched each other's backs, trying to get into the same rhythm.
- Jinora, you aren't- - Don't worry, I've been drinking my tea - she replied quickly, kissing her protective boyfriend - But I'm still thirsty...
In his arms, away from the prying eyes of the community, Jinora could finally congratulate her boyfriend in the way she wanted, instead of a quick cheek kiss she had to live on for the past day and a half.
And as the ravenous hunger drove her body, she found that Kai, once more, acted according to her lessons, his moves being so much more restrained and controlled.
She listened to his breathing, as she melted into his arms, and was gently pushed to the bed, surrendering herself to his steady, rolling moves.
With each one, his hips allowed him to dive deeper and deeper, while her hips and legs were raised into the air, finally landing on his shoulders. With a small airball behind her back, Jinora could rest her posterior and allow to feel how his relentless pushes change the shape of her airbending.
She remembered how clumsy their first time was, and how quickly the two achieved their climaxes back then. And now, while she could feel her loins burning with her needs, she still couldn't hear the familiar rugged breathing in his voice, whispering her name.
And the thought that she was the one to teach him that technique brought her over the edge faster than she expected.
She let out a sharp cry when she felt her world being turned upside down, as Kai brought her back into their sitting position, though with their legs and arms coiled around each other, it really couldn't be called that.
But it didn't matter for either of them, as they resumed their moves, Jinora still shaking from her climax, while Kai's hips were steadily building his.
And when he arched his body, flooding her with his seed, the two young Airbenders coiled each other with streams of air that flew them just a few inches above the bed, as their bodies jerked in unison, expelling their energy.
For a blissful, fleeting moment, Jinora realised that maybe she wasn't right, and she didn't need the bed...
At least until the two fell back onto the bedsheets.
- Jinora... - Kai murmured, kissing her breasts, coating it with more warm, pleasant air.
Her fingers danced in his hair, ruffling it to the point from before the ceremony, as the two young adults slowly drifted to sleep.
- I wonder when are we going to tell your parents about us... - Kai murmured. - Don't worry about it... I'll defend you from my dad if needed to. - Still, it feels good knowing we're doing it in secret.
He giggled and buried his face in her breasts again, slowly peppering her belly with kisses.
- Yeah...
She moaned and threw her head back, remembering to thank her mom for vouching for her disappearance. After all, it was her mom.
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