#i really feel like if i walked into a studio with my portfolio right now they would laugh at me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yeojaa · 3 years

Text

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud. Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or: Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing. tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating. slice of life fluff, light smut. explicit (but only at the end).

tags / warnings. mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc. 7.6k.

beta reader(s). @hobi-gif, @papillonsgf, and @yeoldontknow 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note. i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this. it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless. as always, feedback means a lot!

You and forethought aren’t close friends. You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree. You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is. Careful consideration? Thoughtful patience? None of that exists for you. At least, not when you really, really want something.

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this. Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid. By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment. Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to. When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed. (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right?

“Everyone’s fully booked.” The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial. (You don’t blame her.) By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal. You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue. “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice? Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable. Well-known. Considered one of the best in the city. Surely their apprentice would be fine. Just less seasoned, not as experienced.

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter. “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall. “Last room on the left. His name’s Jungkook. His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.” It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves. Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told.

“Jungkook?” There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight. (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.) It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else.

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting: one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits. Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine. A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall; one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it. There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath. All in all, very homey. Reminiscent of your own apartment.)

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space. “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples.

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for. Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe. It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin. “Are you okay?” He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way. Good for him, but worse for you.

He’s so cute. Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.” You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete. “Um— I was told you might have some time? For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering? You’re never shy. Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess. People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!” Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder. He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway. “Yeah, I’ve got time. Come in.” Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek; the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip; each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks. “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no. You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook? He was that. In spades.

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table. It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display. “I’ve got a pretty big selection.”

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him. This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation.

“So—” He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen. You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt. It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion; it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles. He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling. The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity. “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.” It really is. You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink. “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question. Of course it did. It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally. “Like crazy, but it was worth it. This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—” He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.

“A piece of cake?” You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you. (It doesn’t. You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap. “Do any of these interest you?” He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash. There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf). They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.” It catches your eye more than the others have. Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines. A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do. “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.” He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled; you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion. A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen. “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy. Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no. You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though. You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it. You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life. There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,” you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.

“Do you have your ID?” You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form. “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come.

Alone, the nerves set in. You’re actually doing this. Getting a tattoo. Putting something permanent on your body. It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap. Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come. (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.)

(But had you really made up your mind? Was this going to be it? It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise. It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!” Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope. You eye it curiously. “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”

He’s really thought of everything. Or the shop has. Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?” It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand. (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.)

You hadn’t thought about that. You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away. “My arm?”

“Upper? Forearm?” There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative. He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you.

“Tricep area, I think? Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.” Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same. “I’m kidding. That was cheesy. But I’m sure it’ll look fine. We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?”

“That sounds good.” A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement.

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake: wearing a turtleneck. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like. Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon? Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)?

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside. Whatever you’d prefer.”

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill. You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way? He was probably desensitized.)

“It’s fine.” You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly. Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though. Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater. It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath. Two.

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him. “All right. Let’s do this.”

“So, which arm?” He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello.

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers. You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.” It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror. “It’s so pretty.”

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face. “Thanks.” He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful. “What do you think?”

“This is it. Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool. As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee.

“All right. We’ll shave you down and get started. You like the colours, right?” Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart. It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes. (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.) He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him. “Hop on up. Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace. It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?” You’d misheard that, right?

“Your skin. You’re sparkling.” He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.

“Oh.” Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly. “It’s my soap.”

“Sparkle soap?” Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure. He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before. (Which, fair.)

“It’s this specialty holiday soap. It has pigment in it.”

“That’s cool.” He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm. “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree. It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does. Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot. “Thanks.”

“Was that weird? I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.”

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle. “Ready?”

Honestly, you’re not sure. Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog. Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue. “I think so.”

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee.

“All right—”“ The incessant buzzing stops. Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel. “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you. Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.)

“Can I see?” You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face.

“Yeah, go ahead. Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right. You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet. It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you.

“Careful!” It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.

“Sorry, sorry.” You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede. Everything straightens out quickly enough. “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?” He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall. “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art. “I’m fine.” That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.” The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open. Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words, “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention. It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours. It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.

“You like?”

“I love.” You’d stare at it for hours, if you could. Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie. “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head. Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose. Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into. “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one. It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink. (You half expect him not to answer; you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.)

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.

“So, what’re you thinking?”

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking. Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history. You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece. “A sleeve?”

That surprises him. His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously. “Like, a full sleeve?” It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable. “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high. “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,” he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea. “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.” He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up. For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing. (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.) “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan. It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there. He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions. It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin. A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep. Another takes up the entirety of your forearm. There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi. It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch. You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.” Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap. “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers. Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat. He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up. Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.

“You mean we did it,” you return, giddy like a child.

“Ah, right.” The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled. “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey! Screw you!” You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more. It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head. Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow. You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm. That in itself had hurt like a biiitch; you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?” He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to. It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.

“Yes, you are.” You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares. This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together. (Not that you’d complain. You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful. “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration. “You wouldn’t dare.” You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.

“Wouldn’t I? I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed? You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation. Had he mentioned it previously? Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain? No, you would’ve remembered that. You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.” How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea. You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway. Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago. (God, your memory is good. If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.) “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.

“Gonna miss me?”

Would it be inappropriate to say yes? Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question. You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own. “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,” he answers, offering honesty to your reticence. “You can still send me funny photos though.”

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile. “I guess you’re right. Will you still be tattooing?” It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know. You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.” Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin. “Actually, where I got most of mine done.” You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith. He’s finally come full circle. You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to. It wouldn’t feel right otherwise. “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,” he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair. It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn. “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,” you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder. You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go. It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk. “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you. It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available. (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.) “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black. You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?” He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to. (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?) “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended. “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you. “Hey, I don’t judge. You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there. Used your own impulsive history against you. “I would never.”

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what? Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him. “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth. There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up. You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”

“Really?” You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face. “Then why don’t you have one?” He has a million others as it is: a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs. (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)

“And hide all this?” One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home. “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual. “But I’m cuter. It’d be a shame if it were me. You…” The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean. (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.) “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him.

“I’m kidding.” You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries. A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke. “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them? Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was. Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met. It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?” The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.

Were you? You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really? You can’t?” You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it. But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously. It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears. “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”

Had he? Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall. Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of; accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff). Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought. You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,” you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.

“I think you’re cute,” he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff. The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week. The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb. (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer. “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.” Where the confidence comes from, who knows. You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering. It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits.

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go.

Then he does the last thing you expect: shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.

(His lips are so soft. A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate. Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him. French fries and beer and his Chapstick.)

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.)

“You just kissed me.” It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.” Speaking the words into existence feels bad; you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.

“I am.” At least he’s realistic. It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay.

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose.

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next. (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass. Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers. An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,” the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials. You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation.

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof. The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin. You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous. It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left.

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed. He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders. You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,” he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity. It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,” you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped. You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was. As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though. You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow. He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?” You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder. Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again. (You’re proud of that. It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine. You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness. Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad. Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around. It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper. He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror. “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals. Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care. Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre. You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life. It means so much - like progressing to the next level.

Which, you suppose it is. This is a fresh start for you. A new beginning in a new city.

“Proud of you,” he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips. He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago. A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,” you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual. “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that. You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome. From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this: a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had; to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that. Made it worth it in ways you had never considered. Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?” He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself. It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.” The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?” You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets. It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that. He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised. “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?” Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job?

(It truthfully could be. You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.” All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine. “You don’t like when I admire my own work?” Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit. The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need. (Because you really do need it. You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.) It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once.

“Kook,” you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.” He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin. They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas. A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care. Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits. When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt. “I’ve missed this,” he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.

“Missed you too,” you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list. @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @xjoonchildx

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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years

Text

oh, captain, my captain

pairing: professor!steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,090

summary: Steve Rogers got bored in his retirement, so he picked up the hobby of teaching art. But he still feels restless until his missing piece comes along.

warnings: swearing, little bit of smutty smut, dub-con, drinking, manipulation, steve is a little dark but reader is into it in the end

a/n: This is... a little darker than what most people expect from me. But I wrote this for a dear friend, so I really, really hope you all enjoy it!! Also, please read the warnings. I'm not responsible for your media consumption <3

Life after the Avengers was mundane.

Not that Steve didn’t like the quiet days, where he knew he wasn’t going to be running off and risking his life at any moment, mind you. In fact, he was finding that retirement rather suited him.

Except for the fact that he was bored.

Bucky and Sam were always busy on some kind of mission together, saving the world and splitting their time between Brooklyn, Washington D.C., and New Orleans. Or NOLA, as Buck liked to call it now.

Perhaps the boredom was why he took up art again. He did go to art school, after all, and had even graduated. It was after his first official professional art show that the university contacted him.

They wanted him to teach young minds how to make art.

It was the perfect solution to his boredom problem.

Of course, he should’ve realized that getting a new job wouldn’t make him feel complete. No, unfortunately, he hasn’t found the missing piece in his hundred years.

At least until you walked into his classroom on the first day.

Steve’s eyes focused on you immediately, enamored by the curve of your legs and the Cupid’s bow of your upper lip. “Hello, you,” he mumbled softly under his breath as he watched you sit down to what appeared to be a friend of yours. He scrolled through his attendance on the school supplied computer in front of him, raising his brows as he found the name next to your university ID picture.

A perfect name for a perfect girl.

Suddenly he felt the need to have a few figure drawing classes. Privately. With you. With your clothes off.

And maybe his clothes would be off, too.

He stood up as the clock finally hit one in the afternoon, holding his laptop. “Alright, please let me know if you’re here as I call your names,” he said, before going through the roster quickly.

When he called your name, and you responded with a soft, “Here!” he almost fucking came in his pants.

“Alright. In this class, as with many art classes, we’re going to get very… personal,” he said as he started to walk through the easels and those sitting in front of them. “So on the first day, rather than reading through the syllabus that’s readily available on your phone, I like to do some ice breakers.” He couldn’t help but grin at the collective groan that rang through the class. “I know, I know. But like I said, this class is going to get very personal. So come on, let’s all get in a little closer.”

“Do you mind?” You asked quietly as you scooted her stool in between two others that he couldn’t remember the names of. You gave them a blinding smile as they made room, perching in your seat like a little angel.

His little angel.

Everything seemed to be a blur as he led them in a series of questions, but he barely retained any information from anyone except you. At least he had his phone secretly recording in his pocket so he could go back and relisten later (even if it was mostly just to hear your voice.)

Favorite color?

“Green.”

Favorite holiday?

“New Year’s Eve.”

Favorite artist?

“Marilyn Minter.”

That was interesting to him. That showed that you had a naughty side.

A side he so desperately wanted to get to know.

The only issue was that he needed to find a way to get you alone, and that was going to take trust built up over time.

He was truthfully, absolutely amazed that it only took a few weeks before you were coming to him with wonder-filled eyes, asking him if you could please schedule some time during his office hours to go over some of your portfolio.

Abso-fucking-lutely.

“Hey, you made it,” he said when you walked in after a light knock on the door, your portfolio in hand. Steve stood and immediately pulled out the chair for you like a proper gentleman. Subtly, he took in a deep breath as the cloud of your perfume enveloped him like a warm hug.

It was something classy. Something you had clearly splurged on.

Perhaps Gucci or Valentino or something.

“I’m sorry for being late,” you said as Steve glanced at the clock.

You were maybe three minutes late at the most.

“The subway was delayed, and unfortunately, I can’t control when the subway stops and goes,” you continued, letting out a nervous laugh as you opened up your portfolio. “Did you get my email with my previous pieces?”

“Yes, I did!” He said as he sat back down at his desk. “And honestly, I haven’t been this impressed in a long, long time. I would love to possibly mentor you? Of course, that means a lot more hours spent with an old man like me.” Eyes crinkling, he couldn’t help but laugh when you laughed.

He was sure that he almost had you right where he wanted you. The corner you were backing yourself into was almost too perfect.

You seemed… amazed. Absolutely flabbergasted by his offer. “Really?” You breathed out, leaning closer, elbows resting on your knees. “You’d really do that? That would be… I… Thank you.” Shaking your head, you scooted your chair a little closer. “How much should I pay you? I’ve never had a personal mentor before.”

And there it was. The corner he wanted you in.

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about money,” he insisted as he looked deep into your eyes. It would be so easy to just get lost in them… “But, I do need assistance with something.”

“Of course!” You were like a doe-eyed little fawn, chasing him—the magnificent stag—through a field of wildflowers. “Whatever you want!”

Steve put on the most bashful, boy next door look he could muster. “Well… I’ve been trying to get back into figure drawing, but you’d be surprised at how hard it is finding a class to take that won’t freak out that I’m… you know. Steve Rogers.”

The look on you face let him know immediately there was no way you were going to say no. Hell, you were looking at him like he was the last puppy on the side of the road in a box that had ‘FREE’ written on the side.

In the rain.

“When do we start?”

Steve got everything set up in his home studio that night, only to sit until Friday night, when he’d planned for you to come over. Admittedly, he may have gone a little overboard with the mood lighting and the bottle of red wine that he’d left open on the counter to breathe, two crystal wine glasses resting next to it.

The good crystal.

He practically ran to the door when he heard the doorbell. “Hey, I was a little worried you would have trouble finding it,” he said as he guided you inside, a large hand coming to rest on the small of your back.

“Oh, I just Ubered,” you said, ducking your head as you let him lead you into his large home. “I don’t have a car. It’s too expensive and there’s no point when I live in the city. Though, the drive out here was absolutely gorgeous. I can see why you got a place a little bit upstate.”

Steve grinned, fighting the urge to say that it could also be your place. But that was for the future. “Yeah, the views and the quiet is worth the forty-five minutes or so I commute everyday.” He opened up the door to his home studio, all the windows wide open.

You wandered around the room, looking at the various art supplies and canvases scattered haphazardly around the room. In the very center was a chaise lounge with a blanket draped across it. “This is amazing… God, if I had my own art studio at home, I don’t think I’d ever leave.”

He poured out two glasses of wine, gently pressing one into your hands. “Well, you can always use this one. I have more space than I could probably ever use.” He sipped at his own wine, watching the way the glass pressed to your lips, watching the way you swallowed down the sweet liquid.

He couldn’t get drunk, but you certainly could.

It was around your third glass that he finally got to the point of why you were there. “So, I really want to paint you lying on this chaise,” he said as he guided you back. “But… Would it be possible for you to pose in the nude? You have just… the most natural beauty. I want to be able to only focus on that.”

“Oh my god, yeah!” You said as you set your glass of wine on the little table. With your inhibitions lowered, there was no hesitation as you stripped out of your clothing, tossing it all to the side. “You just move me how you want me.”

Oh, he would.

His own wine glass was set to the side before he moved closer, his eyes locked on yours. “Yeah?” He guided you to lie down on the bed, letting his fingers drift over your soft skin. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous… Could just look at you forever…” His thumb brushed over one of your hard nipples, teasing the little peak as his cock ached inside his sweats. “I could never paint anything else except for you… and I’d die the happiest man in the world.” Carefully, gently, he moved your legs so one of your knees was bent, your legs spread wide for him.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your skin feeling flushed from the wine and the excitement of this god-like man touching you. “Mmm… Professor…”

Steve’s eyes were locked in on the prize, that blooming flower between your thighs, glistening with sweet nectar. “I always love a hands on approach,” he cooed as he ran a single finger through your folds, gathering up your slick.

The taste was exquisite.

Pretty moans fell from your lips, your back arching as your legs instinctively spread wider for him. “Please…”

He knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. It was fate, you walking into his class.

“Do you want me to touch you, baby girl?” He asked, loving the purr that rumbled in your chest as he found your swollen clit. “So needy… When’s the last time your pretty little kitty got so much attention, angel? You’ve been neglecting her, haven’t you?”

At your nod, you tried sitting up a bit, lip caught between your teeth. “Y-Yes. Please… Please.”

Steve quickly realized you didn’t even know what you were asking for.

“So innocent. So sweet,” he said as he wrapped his hands around your waist to pull you to the edge of the chaise. He leaned in and took in a deep breath, groaning. “I wanna be able to smell you for days.” At the first lick of his tongue, he knew he had you wrapped around his fingers.

And when you finally orgasmed, soaking his beard with your juices? Fuck. He was even more of a goner than he was before.

Steve loved the way that you laid limbless on the chaise, foot lazily bouncing as you dozed. It was easily a sight that he could get very, very used to very quickly. This was going to be so much easier than he thought it was going to be.

While he knew he was the right one for you, being able to know that you weren’t going to fight him gave him an amazing sense of relief.

The next week, he stood at his desk, making notes on his laptop. At five minutes to one, the door opened as the first student to arrive entered.

Immediately looking up, his heart sank. It wasn’t you.

Did you panic after you left his place the next morning? Nothing more had happened that night. Surely getting an orgasm wouldn’t freak you out, right?

His hands were starting to tremble when the door opened again, and he felt someone standing right next to him.

“Professor Rogers?”

His head snapped up, relief flooding him when he saw you. “H-Hello. How can I help you?”

A mischievous smile spread across your face, even though you were clearly trying to contain it. “Is there any possible way you have some free time during your office hours for me to swing by? I’d love to schedule our next figure painting session.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve x you

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naughtyneganjdm · 3 years

Text

The Favor

Summary: Y/N comes to Negan asking him for a favor and in return he asks her to do something for him and his wife Lucille.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Lucille.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut & a Threesome (MFF)

Notes: Not going to lie, this doesn't have much of a plot. This was just a story that was requested of me and after seeing the promo picture of Negan and Lucille from The Walking Dead 10c, I was inspired.

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909305

“So, you want me to do what now?” Negan blurt out clearly amused by the tone of his voice from where he was sitting on the corner of his desk. Frustration flooded Y/N’s body when she lowered her head and an embarrassed flush developed over her face. Negan was laughing plainly still stuck on what she had asked him. The reaction to what she asked of him made her almost regret asking him in the first place. “Say it again.”

“Forget it,” Y/N held her hand up in the air not wanting to embarrass herself any further. Pointing behind her, she nodded toward the direction she wanted to leave. If she could hit rewind on this whole thing, she totally would have. When she came to Negan’s office to ask him for a favor, she never really expected it to turn out like this. She didn’t even know what she was thinking in the first place. “I’m sorry for asking. I’m going to go hide and pretend like I don’t even know you anymore because I feel so stupid.”

“No, no. Hold on,” Negan called out when she went to leave his office and he continued to snicker to himself. “I’m just…you have to understand here I’m not used to people making requests of me like this. Actually, I’m not used to anyone asking me for anything.”

“Listen, I’ve been working here for a while and not many people are really nice to me here. You’re always very kind to me,” she admitted noticing the way that Negan had his eyes hooked on her. His eyebrows arched in curiosity when she took a moment to pause and think about what she was going to say. Recently she had joined the school as a student teacher. When she started working in the art department, not many people really gave her the time of day. Most of the people that worked there had their cliques and it felt like high school all over again. Negan was really one of the only people that she found to be nice to her. In her short time at the school, Y/N was able to help update things greatly and it truthfully pissed off some of the older staff that was working there. So, she was often snubbed in the hallways, but Negan was never one of those people. “I thought we were kind of friends.”

“Because we talk to each other in the teachers’ lounge?” Negan snorted and his reply made her feel stupid all over again.

“Well that and we have been bringing each other breakfast for a while now,” she reasoned with him and Negan’s big hazel eyes got wider. It looked like Negan was about ready to burst at the seams with laughter and when he began to laugh, she looked down toward the ground again. “Wow, I totally misread everything here. I am so sorry.”

“I felt bad for you that people were snubbing you so I brought you coffee and then you had to go be adorable bringing me in breakfast as a thank you,” Negan sighed watching her worried eyes lifting to his. Leaning forward, he slicked back his thick, dark hair and ran his fingers through his dark beard. “It just kind of became a thing. Tuesdays and Thursdays are mine. Mondays and Wednesdays are yours.”

“I’m confused,” she cleared her throat, resting her back against the wall while watching him closely. “Does that mean you think we are friends or not?”

“Well, originally I just kind of thought we were work associates that were friendly with each other,” Negan simply answered, rubbing his hands together when he eyed her over. “Friends hang out with each other after school. Friends exchange numbers. That kind of thing.”

“Part of me worried about asking you to hang out because…” she got caught up on what she was thinking. There was the urge to be blunt and honest with him, but another part of her didn’t want to feel even more pathetic than she already did. “You’re married and I didn’t want you to think that I was asking you out on a date.”

“Oh, so that’s why you didn’t want to exchange numbers?” Negan almost teased her, lifting his hand up to look over the wedding band on his finger. “You know, Simon and I exchanged numbers almost immediately. Simon doesn’t bring me breakfast two days out of the week.”

“Yeah, but Simon is a guy,” she reminded him and Negan tilted his head to the side as if waiting for her to explain further.

“So, I can’t be friends with a woman because I’m married?” Negan inquired and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond so she just shrugged her shoulders. “Well that’s a little sexist, isn’t it? Why can men only be friends with men? Also…who’s to say I’m not attracted to both men and women? Then should I be friends with no one because I’m married?”

“I never…wait…what?” she felt overwhelmed with his interrogation and his thick rumble of a laugh filled the air again. “You know what, I think I’m going to leave. I’m sorry for bothering you about this. This was illogical.”

“Hey, I’m fucking with you,” Negan alerted her when he could sense that she was getting stressed with the way he was acting. “I’m not saying no, but I don’t really get it. You know? You want to take photos of me? For what reason?”

“Just forget it,” she shook her head knowing that this was absurd from the start.

“Would you just sit down for a second,” Negan suggested, holding his hand out toward the seat that was before him in front of the desk he was sitting on the edge of. When she went to leave again, he stumbled to his feet and grabbed her wrist in a delicate manner. Pulling her back, he carefully nudged her down into the seat and went back to sit where he was. In this position, Negan was definitely in her person space and it made her uncomfortable. This was awkward. “Explain. Just tell me why you want me to do it. That’s all I’m asking you.”

“I’m working on my portfolio and I just want people to pose for me for some portraits,” she answered feeling small with the way Negan was staring down at her. His light, hazel eyes were incredibly intense and it made her mouth go dry.

“And you don’t have friends that could do this for you?” Negan tilted his head to the side and bit at his lip when he asked her. “I’m not really one for photos, you know? I know you like the whole photo and video thing, but it’s just…I’ve never liked being in front of them.”

“I find that hard to believe because you love being the center of attention,” Y/N rationalized with him what he had just said to her. The expression he gave her almost seemed impressed that she called him on his shit, but she immediately felt embarrassed for saying that to him. “I am so sorry.”

“No, you’re right…I like to tell a story,” Negan confessed with a snort, knowing that she was being bold with what she said to him. “And I do like to be doted on.”

“Your personality is part of the reason I want to take photos of you,” she thought of all the times she had walked into the teachers’ lounge to see Negan having a group of people surrounding him while he told a story. The way he would smile and get extremely animated with his body made him someone she wanted to take pictures of for so long. “You’re fun.”

“Well, that’s true,” Negan winked, his smile drawing her eyes to it. It seemed like Negan was thinking things over while he stroked over his short, dark beard. “I’m just sure you have better looking, younger friends.”

“Yeah, I have friends, but I just like your look,” she explained and Negan’s eyebrows bounced up with her answer. Folding her arms out in front of her chest, she slid down in the chair and cleared her throat. “If you don’t like photos taken, that’s okay.”

“So basically, you’re telling me you think I’m hot,” Negan retorted with another amused breath, “that’s why you want to take pictures of me?”

“I’m not saying you’re hot,” she panicked at his response and she shifted in the seat before him uncomfortably. Well shit, why did she have to go and say that?

“Now are you saying I’m ugly then?” Negan hurriedly blurt out and she felt the room around her getting extremely hot.

“I would never say that. Negan, yes. I like to take photos of people that appeal to me. I like your look and your style,” she shook her head, not knowing exactly what to say with him. “You’re unique and looking at you inspires me with ideas of things that we could do if we worked together.”

“What kinds of things?” Negan’s voice got deeper and there was clear interest in his eyes. “I didn’t know that my looks could inspire someone.”

“You’d be surprised,” she sighed knowing that she found Negan extremely ruggedly handsome. It was hard not to stare at him whenever he was around. When he first brought her coffee, she thought it was a form of flirting, but when she took notice of his wedding ring she knew better. Instead she just assumed that Negan was a friendly person and accepted the weird friendship they had going.

“Just to confirm some things here. You are asking me to come to your studio you have tonight because you don’t like anyone else here…” Negan revealed what he thought she was telling him and she leaned forward in the chair. Her lips parted and she looked shocked to hear what he said. Y/N made hesitant movements as if trying to think of something to say in response, but he shook his head. “Don’t pretend you like the people here. They are fuckers. Most of them at least. We both know that.”

“Everyone seems to like you,” she reminded him and Negan made a dramatic face that made her laugh. “I haven’t met a person that hates you.”

“I’m an asshole with a mouth that gets me in trouble. Everyone loves that, but also secretly hates that. It’s like a Stepford community every single time I come here. I don’t blame you for hating everyone,” Negan dismissed that thought and waved his hands in the air. “Back to what I was saying though, you think I’m fucking hot and you want to take pictures of me.”

“I don’t recall telling you that I think you are fucking hot,” she pointed out and Negan’s dimples became more prominent when he gave her a doubtful expression. Instead of giving him the gratification of her saying yes, she did find him hot, she moved along with what she was saying. “It’s for my portfolio. Yes, I want to teach, but I’d also potentially like to have more one day.”

“Hmm…I see,” Negan licked his lips and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. Pressing his hands back, he braced his weight on them when he leaned back and cleared his throat. “If I do you this favor for you…you have to do me a favor.”

“What’s that?” she was surprised to hear him say something like that but was almost curious as to what he could possibly want from her.

“I’ve seen some of the videos you’ve done for the school. What you do is good work,” Negan stated with a smirk seeing the curiosity flooding through her features. “If you want me to be your model, you have to record something for my wife and me on the weekend.”

“That’s it?” she half laughed knowing that she was expecting something much worse. “Absolutely. That’s no problem at all.”

“You’d be free Saturday to come over and help us out with a project?” Negan confirmed and she enthusiastically nodded. “It’s kind of…intense. You’re down for anything?”

“Negan, you’re helping me out greatly if you model for me. I’d do anything for you,” she claimed knowing that she was absolutely excited at the possible idea of him even considering modeling for her. Especially after she felt so ridiculous for asking him in the first place.

“I’m holding you to it,” Negan snapped his fingers and gave her a wink before looking down at himself. “I’ve got jeans and a black Henley when I’m not in my gym clothes here. Is that going to be okay with you? It’s not like I have multiple outfits.”

“We’ll make it work,” she knew it wouldn’t matter what he wore because she would be able to do some really nice things just having him there. “Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to change my mind?” Negan asked with an entertained sound which made her swiftly shake her head. Reaching his large hand out, he took her hand in his and shook on what they agreed upon. “Then I guess we have a deal.”

“Definitely,” she agreed with him, knowing that she didn’t mind doing something for anyone when they helped her out.

“I brought the motorcycle in so I will just have to follow you after school,” Negan informed her with a loud sigh, getting up from where he was seated on the corner of his desk. Heading to his seat, he knew that he had a lot of work to finish before then and he needed to get to work on it. “I’ll meet you out in the parking lot when I’m done.”

The plans were set in stone and Y/N went back to the class she was meant to be helping with. She was thankful that Negan agreed to do the photoshoot, but she prayed that she didn’t make a fool of herself when she was around Negan. It would be easy to do since she felt like she had already been somewhat foolish when she asked him to do this in the first place.

After school was over, she had met Negan in the parking lot and had him follow her to her home where she had a studio set up in her oversize detached garage. When she opened it and urged Negan to drive his motorcycle into the garage, she could hear Negan snickering.

“What?” she was confused with the way he was acting while he turned off his motorcycle. Shrugging her shoulders, she waited for an answer as he pulled him body from the motorcycle after putting his kickstand down.

“Well when you told me your studio, I just kind of imagined a real studio. Not one that was set up in your garage,” Negan looked beyond her to see the set-up she had at the complete opposite end of her garage.

“This garage is the reason I got this house. I saw opportunities with a studio in here and it’s the best I can do right now. It’s a heated garage. I think the guy before me used it as a mancave or like a workout area,” she explained and the sound that Negan made almost made her feel embarrassed again. “Damn, you’re good at making me feel ridiculous lately.”

“You’re not ridiculous, I just think you’re adorable,” Negan pulled his helmet off and hung it from the handle of his motorcycle. “I give you shit because I like to see you flustered. Not because you’re ridiculous, but because you are adorable.”

“You’ve told me I’m adorable a lot today,” she recalled the many times he had already said that.

“It’s because you are,” Negan cocked his head and gave her a smile. She didn’t know if she should be flattered by his comment or offended. Given she couldn’t see his eyes because of the sunglasses that he was still wearing, she urged herself to believe him instead of thinking the worst. Hopefully she didn’t come off like a big joke to him.

Heading off in the direction of the lights she had set up, she could hear Negan following her and she began to turn things on to set up a scene, “You know for a while I almost though this whole photoshoot thing was code that you wanted to have sex with me. Now I can see you are just very serious about all of this.”

“You seem like the kind of guy that would like a woman to be forward with that kind of thing Negan,” she acknowledged and looked over her shoulder from where she was setting up a light. “And if you weren’t married, I would have considered it.”

“I do like someone who knows what they want,” Negan agreed with her after thinking about what she said. What made him even more interested was the fact she told him she would have definitely considered something like that. “I’m warning you, I’m a pain in the ass. I’m more of a goof than I actually am sexy and shit.”

“I prefer when someone’s real personality comes out on camera,” she shrugged off his response and continued to set up the area. “How do you feel about using the motorcycle as a prop for the first few photos?”

“Is that what you want?” Negan looked back in the area where he left his motorcycle. “I don’t give a shit what we do in the photos. I’m doing all of this for you. So, whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“I mean, the motorcycle fits your personality so I think it would be cool,” she thought about the offer and Negan walked off to go get his motorcycle again. After setting things up, she had started to take photos of Negan and could sense that he was uncomfortable. He still had his sunglasses on and his leather jacket, but she just felt like he was really stiff. “How would you normally pose on a motorcycle Negan?”

“Honey, I don’t pose on them. I just ride them,” Negan answered while sitting back on his motorcycle, his eyebrows lifting up and over his sunglasses. A tense breath fell from his throat when the light flashed again making him smile. “This is weird.”

“Why?” she moved around the space and Negan was amazed that she was discovering what she found to be good shots of him. “You’re not used to someone thinking you’re gorgeous and thinking you deserve to be photographed?”

“Come again?” Negan’s nose wrinkled hearing her tell him that he was gorgeous. Reaching up, he grabbed the corner of his sunglasses to adjust them and he heard her take another photo. “You think I’m gorgeous?”

“You know you’re gorgeous Negan,” she claimed with a loud sigh, lowering her camera. “You have those dimples and you know that people are suckers for those.”

“Oh, so the dimples work on you, huh?” Negan clearly began to relax when Y/N commented on his dimples and the smiles she was getting were genuine. Adjusting his position, he could sense that she was happy with his change in attitude and bit at his bottom lip.

“Let’s get you off the motorcycle for now,” she ordered and Negan did what she wanted. Surprisingly things seem to go by fast because Negan started to listen to her. They went through a few props that she had in the garage. The two of them were laughing and giggling with each other about things they began talking about and it really helped her with the photos. “I’m going to get a different color background set up…”

“Would you be all right with me smoking?” Negan looked for permission and she shrugged. “It won’t damage things?”

“Just open the window over there,” she instructed and Negan took off his leather jacket and sunglasses while she set things up.

“You really love this shit, huh?” Negan took notice of how much her excitement went up when she was taking photos of him. It was nice to see someone actually be happy when doing something they liked and he was impressed that she could find happiness in her art. Lighting up his cigarette, he took in a long inhale and noticed her moving to the window with him. “Let me guess, you find me smoking sexy?”

“I don’t think you even have to ask me that,” she lifted the camera and Negan smirked when she took a few more photos of him. “I just think you have a very striking look.”

“It’s the dimples,” he listened to her when she gave him more direction on photos she wanted of him. “Does your boyfriend like when you take photos of him?”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she informed him while she continued snapping away. “I’m surprised you went straight into assuming things Negan. I could have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, are you into that kind of thing?” Negan’s eyebrow perked up in interest and she shrugged her shoulders before smiling.

“I’m open to things, but I’m not dating anyone,” she replied knowing that she really didn’t want to get into her personal life with Negan at the time, “I’m sure that doesn’t’ surprise you.”

“Actually, it does because you’re incredible,” Negan finished up with his cigarette and watched her roll her eyes when she went back to the set-up she had done before Negan started smoking. “Why did you roll your eyes like I’m fucking with you or something?”

“You…” she waved her hand out when looking over him. “You are incredible. So, to hear you say something like that, I just know you are being sweet and charming as always. That’s just how you are. You’re a flirt and you know what to say to make people smile.”

“Well yeah, but I’m not kidding,” Negan stood where she wanted and posed how she would suggest. While he knew she would be against it, after she took a few more photos of him he stepped forward and reached for the camera. “Give me this.”

“Negan,” she was confused and he grabbed the camera firmly in his hand. He grabbed a chair and set it in the middle of her set. Forcing her onto the chair, he moved before her and raised the camera up to see how it would look in frame if he took her photo. “You suddenly know how to use a camera?”

“I told you I didn’t like to be in front of the camera. I know how to get around using one,” Negan answered her with a grunt when he took a photo of her. “I may not be as good as you are or know all the nifty buttons, but I know enough. My wife bought an expensive camera and someone had to learn how to use it when she didn’t have the time to.”

“Why are you taking photos of me?” she felt her cheeks blushing over while Negan moved from area to area to get pictures of her. “Negan?”

“Because you’re fucking stunning. I know I tease you, but I find you so fucking beautiful,” Negan muttered, lowering the camera enough to eye her over himself and he stepped forward to show her the photos that he had managed to get of her. “I don’t understand how someone as stunning as yourself doesn’t see it.”

“Negan…” she was speechless. His eyes were hooked on hers and they were incredibly close. All the compliments were getting to her and she could feel her body heating up with the closeness of him. When Negan’s eyes fell to her lips, she instantly stood up and reached for the camera from his hands. Negan was married, she couldn’t have the feeling she was experiencing at that exact moment. “You should take a seat.”

“Okay,” Negan sighed, turning the chair around and straddling it. Negan posed for her and then stood, turning the chair the right way. “Are there like photos that you will keep for your own personal use?”

“I mean, I keep the ones that I don’t put in my portfolio on a hard drive,” she watched Negan get comfortable and stretch out his long legs. When Negan let out snicker, she realized she didn’t get what he meant.

“I was going for like ones that you keep to yourself and don’t show anyone,” Negan slid his hand in over his lower abdomen, tracing over the thin planes of his body through the tight-fitting black Henley that clinging to his body. “Ones meant only for your eyes.”

“Negan…?” she pulled the camera away from her face when she saw Negan tug up the material of his shirt revealing his lower abdomen to her sight. Swallowing hard, her eyes fell to the V line that was exposed just above his pants. It made her throat go dry and she felt incredibly turned on while looking at him. It was hard not to eat him alive with her stare. Hey eyes started at the top of his pants and raised up his slender abdomen to finally meet Negan’s hazel eyes. The look that Negan gave her was almost sexual and she started taking the photos with the way he was posed.

Gradually Negan caressed his long fingers over his exposed flesh, sliding his fingertips through the dark hair covering his body. The way Negan bit into his bottom lip made her shudder and there was a warmth that was filling her entire body. With each picture she took, the further Negan pulled the material of his shirt up exposing his long torso to her sight.

“There are just some things I think people might like keeping to themselves and not sharing with the world,” Negan’s left hand slid in over the center of his chest while his right skimmed over his long body toward his groin. Yeah, he was teasing her, but he was having a good fucking time doing it. Palming over his body excited him with her reaction. The flash continued to go off while she took photos of him like he was expecting her to do. Licking his lips, he wanted to appeal to her and knew it was working with the way she was breathing. “Because I honestly don’t mind continuing to be a model for you if you need it.”

“That would be nice,” she confessed, parting her lips and then licking over them to wet them. When Negan dropped his head back and let out a small moan as he continued to caress over his body through the denim of his pants. “You’re certainly the most…motivating subject I’ve had.”

“Just wait, I’ll get a whole hell of a lot more interesting,” Negan teased sitting up enough to pull his shirt from his body. Tossing the material aside, he could see her lower the camera just enough to take a look over his exposed abdomen.

“Wow,” she uttered, her heart hammering in her chest at the sight of him. He was more stunning than she could have ever imagined. All the tattoos that were hidden from her before added so much more to Negan’s personality and knew while she wanted to look him over more carefully. Each part of him deserved a certain amount of attention, but Negan wiggled his fingers egging her on to keep taking portraits of him.

Slowly Negan caressed over his hairy chest then down toward his abdomen, reaching for his belt. Pulling it apart, he found himself enamored with how she seemed to enjoy what he was doing. When he got the material pulled apart, he arched his hips up and slid his hand beneath the material of his jeans. Squeezing at his body, he knew that the way she had been staring at him between taking photos had fueled him and made him incredibly turned on.

After feeling his body firm against his grip, Negan pulled his hand out and opened his pants up. Tugging the zipper down, Negan kept his eyes hooked on the camera when he reached inside to pull his straining cock out. A groan fell from his throat while he squeezed at the base of his erection, pulling his hand slowly up toward the tip before sliding it back down.

“Do you like what you see?” Negan pondered, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip in an erotic sweep. Originally when he agreed to this, this wasn’t where he saw this going, but he couldn’t find it in himself to stop.

“Your wife is incredibly lucky,” she let out a shuddering breath feeling her throat going dry at the sight of him. She couldn’t believe she was still taking photos while Negan masturbated in front of her, but she kind of let him go with it.

“You could be incredibly lucky too,” Negan suggested, his hips arching up toward his grasp and he moaned loud enough to make her shift uncomfortably. “You do realize that you did this to me? This hard cock is all your fault. The least you could do is help me with it.”

“Negan, I wish I could,” she admitted, not sure what to do. Yes, she was incredibly attracted to Negan, but she knew that he was married. Wanting him like she did was wrong. Hell, taking pictures of him like this was wrong. “You’re married.”

“My wife wouldn’t care,” Negan promised her with a crooked smile while he continued to stroke over his solid length. The way he squeezed his body drew attention to each vein and it made her eyelashes flutter while watching him. “We have a very open relationship. So why don’t you come over here and thank me for doing what you wanted. I’ll thank you for giving me this…”

“You really have an open relationship?” she confirmed and Negan nodded his head while he arched his hips up toward his fist again drawing her attention to his impressive body. Moving across the room, she set her camera down safely and stepped before Negan. The sight of Negan’s body caused a warmth to flood to her core. From the first moment she had seen Negan she had found herself attracted to him and seeing him like this was like he had just stepped right out of her dreams. “You’re so sexy.”

“And you’re fucking beautiful,” Negan leaned forward to clutch firmly at her hips, pulling her in closer to him. Tracing his hands over her sides, he found his eyes locked on her watching the way she seemed to tremble when he touched her. Lifting up, he raised the material of her shirt and pressed wet teasing kisses under her navel. The sound that fell from her throat made a proud smile develop over his features as he continued his wet trail of kisses over her abdomen. A grunt fell from his throat when he felt his cock throbbing and he lowered his head to look down at his erection. “Get on your knees.”

Without question, she did as he said and carefully lowered herself down before him. Licking her lips, she hooked her eyes with his and reached out to caress her hands over his knees. The further her hands slid up his thighs, the lower he slid in the chair to give her more room. Tugging at the material of Negan’s pants she managed to pull them down his hips a little further to reveal his distended flesh better to her.

“You have a beautiful cock,” she reached her hand out to trace her fingertips up from the base of the underside of his hardened flesh to the tip causing it to twitch. The growl that fell from his throat triggered her to smirk and she repeated the movement a few more times.

“You’re teasing me,” Negan rumbled from where he was seated, reaching out with his right hand to brush his fingers into her hair. “Is this the way you want to treat someone who modeled for you?”

“Oh, like I’m treating you bad,” she rolled her eyes and loosely wrapped her palm around his shaft, stroking slowly over the length of his body. Negan’s jaw flexed when she did it and he arched his hips up toward her caress.

“Very, very bad,” Negan groaned, dropping his head back while she touched him and the muscles in his throat flexed. The warmth of her breath pressed in over his thigh and he felt her lips kissing over his flesh while she continued to delicately caress over his body. Lowering his head to watch her, he could tell that she was proud of herself with the way she was taunting him with the idea of her giving him a blowjob while she kissed up his abdomen. Tugging back on her hair, he could hear her wince and a proud smile expanded over her features. “Fuck, you’re a bad girl. You’re going to be punished.”

“You promise?” she bit at her bottom lip and Negan leaned forward to grasp at her jaw to pull her forward. With the way he was looking her over, it made her body feel like it was on fire. So many times she had pictured kissing Negan and now he was so close to her. It damn near took her breath away and she attempted to move into kiss him, but he kept her back.

“Most certainly,” Negan grunted pulling her to him and his lips collided with hers. It was a rough, demanding kiss that caused her to whimper against his mouth. The parting of her lips allowed Negan’s tongue to push its way into her mouth to caress his tongue over hers in soft flicks. A menthol taste lingered from Negan’s cigarette that he had earlier lingered, but she strangely liked it. Her grasp tightened on his body, making him moan into her mouth before biting at her bottom lip. “Open your mouth.”

Doing as she was told, she felt Negan’s thumb dragging across her bottom lip and she carefully drew it into her mouth. Sucking unhurriedly over it, her focus was on Negan and she wanted to pleasure him so badly, but she needed this to be memorable. The way Negan dragged his tongue over his bottom lip caused her whole body to shudder. God, he was so incredibly sexy. Slowly Negan pulled his thumb from her mouth and reached for the back of her neck urging her head down toward his lap.

Taking it as encouragement, she dragged her tongue across the bottom of his cock starting about mid shaft to the tip. With the sound Negan made, it made her that much more desperate to continue to pleasure him. Depositing soft kisses down his shaft and slowly upwards made him jolt. With each soft kiss, she would softly flick her tongue against his flesh and could hear his breathing getting heavier.

Reaching the tip again, she dragged her tongue around the girth of it before taking a small amount of him into her mouth. Immediately, he eagerly lifted his hips closer to her, but she pulled away and gave him a judging look making him chuckle.

“Fuck…” Negan watched her caress over the top of his cock for a moment drawing pre-cum at his tip. Leaning in, she flattened her tongue and dragged it over the small slit causing him to moan when she collected the taste of him. With the soft kisses and the hints of her tongue, he found himself extremely turned on by the way she was doing everything. “You’re an erotic little shit, aren’t you?”

“And you’re an impatient fucker, aren’t you?” she almost mocked him, her words vibrating against the shaft of his cock. A loud moan escaped his throat and he sank his fingers further into her hair when she finally took him into her mouth. God, she was so fucking bold compared to what he pictured in his mind originally. Each stroke of her tongue and motion of her mouth over him was very meticulous, but fuck it felt amazing. Wet sounds filled the air while she slowly bobbed her head over his cock drawing his attention to him even more.

“Fuck,” Negan winced when she drew forth an incredible sense of pleasure when her tongue flicked over him a certain way. His eyebrows tensed and he watched her closely enjoying the pleasure she seemed to get from giving him a blowjob. “You look so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth, you know that?”

Over time, her movements got stronger and faster attempting to get him to reach an orgasm. While he was enjoying her taking him right to the edge, he knew that he had other plans for how he wanted the night to end. Grasping tightly to her hair, he pulled her back and heard the slurping sound fill the air when she pulled her mouth from his erection.

The expression over her face came off strangely innocent and sensual at the same time when she licked at her wet lips. Urging her up closer to him, Negan dragged his tongue over her lips and heard the desperate sound she made when he did it.

“While I’d love to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours, this wasn’t exactly the thanks I was looking for,” Negan hummed, standing up and pulling her with him. Pressing his body to hers, the sound of his pants dropping to his ankles was heard and he smiled. When she breathed it still showed that she was nervous to be with him and it turned him on all the more. Palming over her full bottom, Negan squeezed at her body enjoying the sounds she was making when he did it. Backing her up, he led her toward his motorcycle and stopped when she ran into it. “I hope you understand, I’m not as delicate as you…”

Tearing at the material of her shirt, Negan eagerly got it from her body and tossed it aside. Her chest was rising and falling heavily while he continued his movements reaching around her to unhook her bra. When the material dropped from her body, Negan swiftly discarded that with her shirt and kissed over her collarbone. Growling against her flesh, he could feel her fingers tugging at his thick hair and his lips lowered between the valley of her breasts. Reaching his destination, Negan drew her nipple into his mouth and teased his tongue over the taut skin.

“Fuck me…” Negan felt her scratching at his bare shoulders and his hands roughly pulled apart her pants. There was no being careful in the way he tugged at the material of her pants. Her gasps filled the air when he managed to take down the material making her pull in closer to him. “Hold onto the bike…”

“Negan,” she whimpered when he kissed below her navel. The way his tongue flicked over her skin and his teeth followed up with small bites was driving her crazy. Listening to what he suggested, she dropped her hands back and braced herself on Negan’s motorcycle. “Are you sure it won’t fall over?”

“Oh, she’s a sturdy girl made for hard rides,” Negan slurred against her skin, his wicked hazel eyes looking up at her with a glimmering hint of mischief behind them. Tremoring, Y/N could feel his lips lower and when she felt his hands grabbed a tight hold of her thighs to push them apart further, she realized how serious this was all becoming. With her standing mostly naked before Negan, she felt the room spinning around her. This was all more than she was probably ready for, but there was no turning back now. “Mmmm.”

The loud kisses Negan pressed over her body turned into wet slurping sounds when reached between her thighs, eager to take tease her clitoris with his talented mouth. He certainly wasn’t delicate with his motions like he warned her, but she immediately recognized that her body began to shake and shudder with what he was doing to her. The way he varied between kissing, licking and sucking over her sensitive flesh and folds was driving her crazy. Digging her fingers into his thick hair, she found herself leaning back against the bike and wondered if her legs would be giving out on her.

With the way Negan was eating her out, she was almost worried that she would fall over. It was hard to keep up on steady legs while he focused so perfectly on her body. Dropping her gaze, she immediately regretted it because she could see that Negan was staring up at her while he pleasured her to see how she was reacting. God, this was everything she could have pictured and more.

When Negan drew his lips away from her body, she was shaking and clearly wanted him to continue, but his mouth was replaced by the rough caress of his fingertips sliding up the length of her wet slit. A surprised sound fell from her when Negan teased over her entrance with one of his fingertips before thrusting his long, slender finger into her tight opening.

“Good God,” Negan grunted pulling his finger slowly back before pumping it upward again into her. “This has been so much better than what I had planned for tonight…”

“Negan,” she cried out his name when he went back to pleasuring her with his mouth while his finger pumped inside of her. Her eyes slammed shut and a rush of heat flooded to her core. Every part of her felt like she was on fire and Negan clearly picked up on how he was making her feel when he inserted a second finger and delivered more determined strokes with his tongue. Reaching forward, she clasped tightly to Negan’s hair with both her hands and felt Negan humming against her flesh when she had an orgasm.

“Look at you…” Negan muttered from where he was knelt before her. Licking at his lips when he pulled his mouth away from her and moved his hands to caress over her thighs. “You are something else.”

A shocked sound escaped her throat when Negan quickly stood and forced her to face toward his motorcycle. Negan pushed into her upper back getting her to lower down and brace herself against his motorcycle. Taking his time, Negan traced over the long lines of her back with his rough fingertips. Appreciating the sights before him, he let her calm down a bit before reaching for her hips. Adjusting them where he wanted, he pressed in closer to her and could hear her breathing getting heavier.

Grabbing a hold of his aching erection, Negan led the tip of his cock through her wet folds and felt her shaking against him. Lining himself up with her entrance, he pushed his hips forward and heard her coo when he entered her body. A moan fell from his own throat when her tight body clung to his and he continued to sink his length into her.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Negan bottomed out inside of her and reached around her to caress over her full breasts. Y/N wiggled against him, ready for him to move while he stayed stagnant inside of her and an amused sound fell from his throat. “Patience beautiful. I’ll fuck you real good soon.”

Whimpering, she knew that he was teasing her much as she had done earlier with him. It was giving her time to get accustomed to his size inside of her and she could feel every ridge of his body making her tremor against him. Instinctively she tried to rock back against him, her body desperate to feel the movement of his body inside of hers.

“Hey now,” Negan brought his palm firmly over her bottom making her arch forward with a whine and he groaned out. “You really are a bad girl, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she looked over her shoulder at Negan and watched him begin to roll his hips behind her giving her that small amount of moving she was craving. Looking forward, she whimpered with delight as Negan started to thrust behind her setting a rhythm between them. God, she hoped they didn’t knock over his bike during this. Desperately she was trying to keep herself balanced against it while his thrusts behind her seemed to get hard. Each thrust forward drew a sharp breath from her lips and her eyes slammed shut. The smacking of their skin filled the air and the force at which he was fucking her felt absolutely remarkable. “Negan…”

“If this is how your photoshoots end, I’ll do it as many times as you fucking want sweetheart,” Negan pushed his body in closer to her and reached out to wrap his hand around her throat. The way she rocked back into his thrusts made Negan proud and he let out a moan himself. “Would you like that baby?”

“Yes,” she whined when Negan put pressure on her throat making her purr.

“Then we should make a habit of these,” Negan pulled her up against his chest and he kissed over her jawline while he continued to thrust into her. His other hand reached between her thighs to circle over her already sensitive bundle of nerves while he kept his hold on her throat.

“Negan?” she muttered his name when he pulled his hips away from hers and left her feeling empty. Turning, she watched him move over toward the chair that he was originally in and dropped down. Negan pat his thigh and then wiggled his finger at her to come to him.

“Come ride this baby,” Negan’s bright eyes were hooked on her movements as she moved across the area. Carefully, she lowered down over his lap and Negan reached for his body to help lead her hips down over him. Getting to see the look on her face as he entered her drove him wild with desire. The way she bit into her bottom lip was incredibly sexy and when she lowered herself completely over him, he couldn’t help kissing her. “Fuck.”

Helping her to set a pace over him, Negan grasped tightly to her hips knowing that he would likely leave a mark. Her arms were loosely hooked around his shoulders and Negan moaned into her mouth when he found just the right pace and position that he liked.

Kissing Negan felt incredible going along with the motions their bodies made together. She was rather enthusiastic with him the longer she moved over him and Negan dropped his head back against the back of the chair.

“Oh, that’s good,” Negan hummed in approval, his thighs flexing beneath her while she took him quite well inside of her. “Good girl taking control of that cock. You like that cock? Huh?”

“I do,” she purred into his mouth, sucking softly at the tip of his tongue when it pushed between her lips. Their heavy breaths, grunts and groans echoed in her makeshift studio and with Negan’s hands all over her body she felt her body start to shake. “Negan…”

“You almost there?” Negan firmly wrapped his arm around her waist, urging her hips over his again and again. Negan’s mouth was over her neck and he grunted against her flesh when she nodded. “Me too.”

Her cries filled the air and Negan groaned against her neck while her body clenched around him when he got her to another orgasm. Continuing to help her movements over him, Negan grunted against her body and winched when he felt his body locking up.

“I’m going to cum,” Negan felt her tugging at his hair and his mouth met hers. “Do you need me to pull out?”

“Only if you want to,” she panted meeting Negan in another kiss when she felt him locking up beneath her. His moan vibrated against her mouth as he bucked up to her again and again when his release hit him. Crying out against his mouth she could feel his body pulsating inside of her which felt amazing. After they both hit their release, she stayed still in his arms for a while and Negan’s head was resting against her chest. “Hey Negan?”

“Hey beautiful?” Negan lazily lifted his head and looked up at her with his bright eyes. There seemed to be a stressed expression over her features and he leaned into her touch while she stroked her fingers through his hair. “What’s up?”

“Are things going to change between us?” she muttered and Negan cracked a smile. “I mean like, I enjoyed our friendship we had going. You aren’t going to avoid me now, are you?”

“Fuck no. I’m an asshole, but I’m not a douchebag,” Negan snorted and he stretched enough to meet her in another kiss. The pounding sensation was still felt in her chest from her heart and she knew that she was absolutely swooning over Negan. “I wouldn’t want to fuck this up. Now that I know we have a good thing going.”

“Good,” she muttered and they stayed there for a little while longer until she finally pulled herself from him. It was uncomfortable to stand, but she did her best and got some of her clothes back on. Negan pulled his jeans back on and still somehow managed to convince her to take photos of him again after their sex. It was actually a pretty nice night and by the time he finally left, he gave her a kiss goodnight.

Shit, she had feelings for a married man and now things just felt…complicated. Although, over the next few days at work everything felt like nothing changed. Negan still brought her breakfast the next morning like they had often done with each other. In fact, Negan acted like nothing really happened between the two of them. Other than the fact he was potentially a little touchier, she found him to oddly fine.

When it was the day before she was supposed to go to Negan’s home to do the favor he asked of her, she found herself worried about it. Knowing that she slept with Negan, Y/N wasn’t sure that she would be able to face Lucille and she went to tell Negan about it.

“Oh, no. No. We shook on it,” Negan reminded her, twirling his finger in the air and his nose wrinkled. “You can’t go back on your word now.”

“I gave you my word before we slept together,” she reminded him and Negan chuckled before lowering his head toward his desk.

“And I gave you my word that nothing would change between us,” Negan lifted his gaze, his right eyebrow arching while he stared out at her. “So why don’t you trust me and realize it’s okay? I wouldn’t put you in a situation that was bad.”

“Are you sure?” she made sure that he still wanted her to come to his home to be near his wife after everything that happened. “I just don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Bring a video camera and everything will be fine,” Negan leaned forward to press a lingering kiss over the side of her face. It took her breath away when he pulled back enough to stare into her eyes.

“Do you need lights or anything…?” she watched him smirk and he shook his head. “Am I going to know what I’ll be doing?”

“I want it to be somewhat of a surprise. The only thing I need is for you to bring yourself and that camera,” Negan shrugged his shoulders and playfully nudged her chin with his fingertips. “Trust me, you’re perfect for what we need.”

After Negan pat her on the shoulder and left, she found herself still quite nervous about what was potentially going to happen. That night she went home and got everything prepared ahead of time. They had exchanged numbers after their photoshoot night together and on Saturday morning Negan sent her a text message with his address as well as a time to show up.

Part of her wanted to come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t go, but she knew that she had made a deal with Negan. No matter what happened with them in between, she had to hold up to her side of the deal.

When she showed up to Negan and Lucille’s home, she found it to be a sweet quaint home. It wasn’t very big, but the small yellow house had its charm to it. Looking at the mailbox, she could feel her heart hammering in her chest when she saw Negan’s last name written on it with paint. Something that Y/N assumed Negan’s wife had done as an art project.

Walking up to the home, she was greeted at the door by a gorgeous woman who seemed to be prepared waiting for her. When Y/N moved up the steps, she finally got a look at Negan’s wife and suddenly felt confused as to why what happened the other night with Negan actually happened.

“You will have to forgive my husband, he had to run off and go get something,” the woman extended her hand out to Y/N and it suddenly made Y/N feel all the more awkward. She was going to be alone with Negan’s wife? “I’m Lucille.”

“Of course you are. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Y/N boasted with a half-smile taking a look over Negan’s beautiful wife. It was hard not to stare into her beautiful emerald-green eyes that had a splash of brown around the center. The way Lucille had her dark hair done looked great on her and complimented her face shape. Both Lucille and Negan were breathtakingly stunning. “I’m Y/N.”

“I have also heard all about you,” Lucille informed her with a big smile and there was something about Lucille that was incredibly welcoming.

“I doubt that,” Y/N snickered and Lucille tilted her head to the side. “I just mean, I’m new.”

“Well, if you know my husband…he talks and he talks a lot,” Lucille teased making Y/N crack a smile as Y/N slowly pulled her hand from Lucille’s delicate grasp. “So, when I say I know a lot, I mean I know a lot.”

“When you put it like that and I think about Negan, that actually sounds about right,” Y/N thought of what she knew about Negan and Lucille wasn’t wrong, Negan did talk a lot. Yet, it made her wonder what Negan had exactly said to his wife about her. “You know, Negan never did tell me what I was going to be doing for the two of you.”

“Oh, how about you come on in and we can have a drink,” Lucille offered, stepping aside from her front door, holding her hand out toward it. “We can get to know each other and when Negan gets back, we can talk to you about everything.”

“Sounds good,” Y/N agreed and stepped into the home that Negan shared with his wife. God, this was going to be hard to not get uncomfortable. After the other night, Y/N didn’t know what she should say. Negan told her that his wife and him had an open marriage, but she didn’t know if he told Lucille about what happened with them. Would Lucille really be this open and friendly about everything if that was the case? “You have a beautiful home here.”

“Well, it’s something…” Lucille looked around the living room after they took off their shoes. Some of the photos on the wall caught Y/N’s attention. Everything looked happy between Negan and Lucille. The photos were nice and everything seemed well put together. Maybe this was a bad idea coming here. After sleeping with Negan and seeing him home…his wife…everything just felt wrong. “Are you okay?”

“What?” Y/N clung tightly to her camera bag at her side and felt her heart hammering away inside of her chest. When Lucille eyed her over and reached out to touch her shoulder in a supportive grasp, Y/N cleared her throat uneasily and nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“You got pale for a second,” Lucille stepped forward to brush Y/N’s hair out of her face and the closeness of Lucille felt somewhat odd. “Let’s go get you something to drink.”

Following Lucille into the kitchen, Y/N took a seat at the table and watched as Lucille moved through the kitchen grabbing everything she wanted to gather for them, “So Negan tells me that you are very talented. He said that you really improved a lot of things for the school.”

“It wasn’t that hard really,” Y/N explained, clasping her hands together in her lap when Lucille returned to the table with some coffee for the both of them. “The school was a bit behind on things. I was just able to help them get more with the modern times and ways of things. I’m likely just…average.”

“Oh no, I saw some of your work,” Lucille pointed out, her right eyebrow arching up when she took a sip of her own coffee. “You do have an eye for things. Negan told me you took a photoshoot of him the other day. I have to commend you for that because he’s a pain in the ass to get photos of.”

“He told me that before we started,” Y/N responded with a small laugh. “Your husband has a lot of personality.”

“Is that what we’re calling it? I just often think he’s being an asshole,” Lucille laughed making Y/N smirk at the comment. “He’s amazing in so many ways, but I think you would agree that his teasing can sometimes make him a pain in the ass.”

“Sometimes,” Y/N licked her lips, reaching for her coffee. The way Lucille was eyeing her over made Y/N clear her throat and she shifted in her chair hoping like hell that Negan would be home soon. “You know, I don’t want to be too forward…”

“I’m married to Negan, nothing surprises me,” Lucille waved Y/N on to continue when Y/N paused to take a moment.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen,” Y/N commented on Lucille’s eye color knowing that it may have come off weird with her complimenting Negan’s wife after everything, but she couldn’t help it. “I’m drawn to them. They are very beautiful. I thought your husband had gorgeous eyes, but you…”

“It almost feels like you’re flirting with me Y/N,” Lucille’s brows arched and Y/N felt a flush of warmth flood into her cheeks making her look down. “I’m just being a little like my husband right now and teasing you. Thank you for saying that.”

There was a silence that fell between them and Lucille cleared her throat after a moment, “So what are the plans for your future? I assume you want to be a teacher doing what you are, but then Negan mentioned you wanted to build up your portfolio.”

“Well, I love teaching and helping people,” Y/N thought about her future and knew that she wasn’t even really that sure where she wanted to go with things, “but at the same time my heart always strives for more. I’m sure that sounds silly.”

“No, I find it inspiring,” Lucille muttered with a smirk when the sound of a loud car was heard outside. Lucille looked over her shoulder when she heard the sound of it turning off followed by a door opening and closing. “That’s him. You can tell by the sound of the mustang. He loves that stupid car.”

Y/N smiled and took another sip of her coffee hearing the front door open. Lifting her gaze, she watched Negan moving through the house. His dark hair was slicked back and he had on the same pair of sunglasses he was wearing the other night.

“Babe,” Lucille called out from the kitchen and when Negan looked over his shoulder, he smiled brightly upon seeing that Y/N was there. Moving into the kitchen, Negan headed to Lucille and leaned down to kiss her in a long, drawn out moment making Y/N’s feel a rush of jealousy flow through her. Why? That was senseless, this was his wife for God’s sake. “Mmm…you taste like your cigarettes.”

“Imagine that,” Negan grunted, stroking over the side of Lucille’s face before heading to the refrigerator to pull himself out a soda to drink. “Did you end up telling her what she’s here for?”

“Without you?” Lucille retorted with a laugh while Negan took a big gulp of the sugary liquid. “No, it’s much easier for you to explain something like this than it would be for me considering us girls don’t really know each other yet. Well, we’ve been introduced at this point…”

“Might as well hop right in then,” Negan set the soda down and nodded his head in the other direction. “Follow me downstairs.”

“We’re staying here?” Y/N confirmed and Negan waved her on, not really giving her much of an answered. Y/N waited for Lucille to follow them as they made their way down the stairs to Negan’s basement. There was a small entertainment area set up, but there was also a bed set up downstairs as well. Negan hopped onto the bed and curled his arms behind his head, offering up one of his big flashy smiles. “So…”

“You can’t even relax for a few minutes, can you?” Negan snickered after pulling his sunglasses from his face and he set them down on the nightstand. Lucille moved around Y/N and went to the bed to take a seat beside Negan. Negan reached out to caress his hand in over Lucille’s thigh where her sundress was slightly riding up and it drew Y/N to look down. “You know you can get comfortable.”

“What did you want me to film?” Y/N looked around finding it odd that Negan and Lucille both decided to sit on the bed instead of going over to the seating area of their basement.

“I want you to film me fucking my wife,” Negan slid his hand further up between Lucille’s legs and Y/N let out a hesitant breath followed by a confused laugh. “I like documenting my sex and it turns me on unbelievably, but…I get the feeling you would film something…impressive.”

“You want me to do what now?” Y/N snorted, her eyes looking between both Lucille and Negan. She was almost waiting for the punchline, but neither Lucille nor Negan broke. “You want me to film porn essentially?”

“I thought you said she wasn’t all that innocent,” Lucille blurt out and Y/N felt her face flush over. “I felt a sense of boldness when she told me my eyes were beautiful, but her face is entirely too red Negan. You’ve been talking about this for a while and…”

“For a while?” Y/N repeated what Lucille said and Negan let out an amused breath.

“Well, I wanted to ask you before you ever asked me of something, but when you came to me about your photos I figured it was a great opportunity to see where this went,” Negan saw Y/N swallow down and he tilted his head to the side. “We’re not shy people here. Why don’t you set up your tripod thing and get a shot of the bed that you think would be good.”

“I’m not sure that this is a good idea,” Y/N announced knowing that she had felt something toward Negan and if all they wanted her to do was film them screwing each other, she felt like this would potentially hurt her more than appease her.

“We made a deal,” Negan reminded her with a tsking sound. Thinking it over, she sighed heavily and started to set up her tripod. Looking for the best light in the basement, she realized that Negan had no curtains or blinds on his windows so the light was naturally flooding in. “Good girl.”

“She is adorable,” Y/N heard Lucille mutter while she started the camera up and could see the light flickering to tell her that she was recording. The warmth of her jealousy filled her face when Negan and Lucille began to kiss. Standing on unsteady legs, she could feel her body somewhat shaking while their kiss got more intense.

“I told you,” Negan lifted his gaze to look up at Y/N when his tongue pushed between his wife’s lips and it made Y/N look away. “You should see the way she sucks cock though. She comes off innocent, but the blowjob she gave me the other day was incredible.”

Coughing, Y/N couldn’t believe what just came out of Negan’s mouth and her reaction to it made Lucille smile. Lucille’s hand dragged down over the front of Negan’s chest and down toward his groin to caress over Negan’s body.

“I know I was supposed to wait to share her with you baby, but the other night…” Negan began making the room spin around Y/N as she listened to them. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I know baby,” Lucille hushed Negan while Negan’s mouth drew over the side of Lucille’s neck. Lucille’s eyes locked on to Y/N and Lucille raised her hand up to wiggle her finger at Y/N to suggest her move to the bed. “Come here gorgeous.”

“I am so confused right now,” Y/N alerted them, licking at her lips as Negan tugged at the strap of Lucille’s dress pulling it down enough to expose her breast. Negan dragged his tongue over Lucille’s collarbone and then lowered his lips to kiss over her chest. When his lips surrounded Lucille’s nipple, Y/N found herself drawn to it. “I thought I was filming the two of you.”

“Oh, I guess I missed the detail that I wanted you to film me fucking my wife while we also fucked you,” Negan slurred, pulling his mouth away from Lucille’s breast. A wicked smirk pressed in over Negan’s features and he teased his tongue out to twirl it around Lucille’s nipple making a soft moan fall from Lucille’s lips. Y/N’s breathing was loud while she watched Lucille stroke through Negan’s hair. Y/N was frozen, not sure where to go from there. “You know the other night you said you were open to being with another woman.”

“This is just a bit to take,” Y/N responded when Lucille reached for the bottom of Negan’s shirt he was wearing to pull it up his torso. “Is this really what you asked me to come over for?”

“I told you we had an open marriage, but you…I’ve wanted to do this with you from the moment I saw you. You can ask Lucille; I’ve wanted to bring you in with us for a long time. The other night, I just took advantage of a moment and I really fucking liked it,” Negan explained pulling back enough to help Lucille pull his shirt from his body. “It’s not just something I came up with after we slept together.”

“Is it me that turns you off of the idea?” Lucille questioned and Y/N cleared her throat knowing that she found both of them to be exceedingly attractive. “I can watch the two of you together if that makes you more comfortable.”

“No Lucille, you’re beautiful, but you have to know that,” Y/N immediately responded, her eyes surveying over Negan’s gorgeous wife. “You both are stunning.”

“As are you,” Lucille complimented Y/N and her smile expanded over her features. “Negan has been talking about you for a long time now and I also find you charming like he does. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I think the three of us could start something together if you would like. We won’t force you into it at all. If you’d rather just watch and record the two of us, that’s fine, but if you want to join, I promise you that Negan and I will take good care of you.”

“Preferably I would like you to fucking join us,” Negan inserted his opinion almost immediately after Lucille was done talking and he slid his palm down to rub over himself again. The way Y/N was looking between the two of them, Negan knew that she was almost to the point of agreeing to do it. “I can see you want to.”

“And you’re okay with this?” Y/N looked to Lucille who nodded and a nervous breath fell from Y/N’s throat. Was she really considering this after everything? Especially with taping the whole thing. “What are the rules?”

“No rules, just see where it goes,” Negan shrugged his shoulders, reaching for the belt in his pants and he began to undo it. Lucille helped him open his pants while kissing over his chest and he let out a proud exhale. Lifting his hips up, Negan pulled the material of his jeans down his body leaving him in his maroon colored boxer briefs. “You like fucking me, right?”

“Let her make her own decision honey,” Lucille hushed Negan, reaching her hand out from the bed for Y/N if she was interested. “We’ll take good care of you and stop if that’s what you need.”

Y/N’s eyes were hooked on Lucille’s green eyes and for some reason she found comfort in the way that Lucille was staring out at her. Stepping closer to the bed, Y/N accepted Lucille’s hand and heard Negan hum in approval. Swiftly, Negan got to his knees on the bed when Y/N approached the bed.

“Good girl,” Negan slurred, reaching his hand out to slide it in over the side of Y/N’s neck. The soft tug of Negan’s hand brought Y/N to his lips so he could kiss her over and over again while his other hand reached around her to palm in over her bottom. Lucille got up on her knees as well and Negan pulled his lips from Y/N’s to move in to kiss Lucille. Y/N’s heart was hammering inside of her chest with the closeness of both Negan and Lucille. When Negan pulled away from Lucille with a wet sound, Negan looked closely between both women. “Now let’s try something.”

Negan reached for both Lucille and Y/N to bring them together. A shuddering breath fell from Y/N’s throat when Lucille reached out with her slender fingers to trace over Y/N’s face. With Negan’s urgings, Y/N accepted Lucille’s kiss which was so vastly different from Negan’s. It was delicate, it was passionate and damn it, it was good.

“I fucking love it,” Negan grunted observing the two women kissing. An excited groan from Negan filled the air as the kiss deepened and Lucille’s tongue pushed forward between Y/N’s parted lips. Caressing over both of their lower backs, Negan could sense they were starting to relax and he lowered his head to kiss over the side of Y/N’s neck. Lucille reached for the bottom of Y/N’s shirt she was wearing and began to tug the material up her body, stopping at her breast area. Negan pulled back enough for her lean away so both Lucille and Negan could work together to get it from her body. “Gorgeous…”

Y/N sighed when Negan kissed over one side of her neck and Lucille peppered kisses over the other side. They both were so different in the way they did things, but both felt amazing. Lucille seemed to pay attention to things that would make Y/N respond to what they were doing and Negan just knew what he was doing. With them working together, Y/N found her body warming up quite quickly. Negan’s kisses descended down over her chest while Lucille worked her way up to kiss behind Y/N’s ear.

“I told you she was something special,” Negan muttered against Y/N’s flesh, his hands reaching around to work open the clip in in Y/N’s bra. Lucille’s fingers swiped in over Y/N’s collarbone, tracing over her body in a tender way when Negan carefully pulled the material from Y/N’s body.

“You were right,” Lucille agreed with Negan as Negan’s lips covered Y/N’s breast, teasing and flicking her nipple with his tongue before sucking softly at her flesh. “Did Negan make you feel good the other night?”

“Yeah,” Y/N panted knowing that it appeared like Lucille was perfectly okay with Negan sleeping with her the other night, but Y/N still felt a little uncomfortable considering she just met Lucille.

Negan’s hand slid between Y/N’s thighs, palming over her mound making her eyes slam shut when she felt Lucille caressing over her jawline with her soft fingertips before Lucille hummed, “Well, we’ll look to top that today.”

Lucille kissed Y/N again with her perfect, soft lips that surprisingly Y/N grew to like more and more the longer they did it. A moan escaped her throat when Negan worked his hand beneath the material of her jeans and her panties to caress his rough fingertips over her folds.

“Someone is incredibly wet,” Negan commented against Y/N’s flesh when he pulled away from her breast with a slurping sound. Managing to push his finger into Y/N’s tight entrance, he watched her gasp against Lucille’s lips and he moaned. “My cock is so hard right now. You have no idea how much this is turning me on. Don’t be afraid to touch Lucille too Y/N. She doesn’t bite…unless you ask her to.”

“Can I?” Y/N asked for permission and Lucille nodded when Y/N reached out to drag her fingertips down the side of Lucille’s neck toward her exposed breast.

Teasing her index fingers over the taut tip of the nipple made Lucille lick over her lips. Y/N tried to focus solely on Lucille for a moment, but her attention was pulled away when Negan drew a moan from her throat. Negan’s finger pumped quickly inside of Y/N, making her arch her hips in closer to him. The way he was doing it made Y/N begin to rock her hips again his caress and Negan growled loudly.

“Damn it,” Y/N cooed knowing that Negan was doing his best to affect her, but she tried to continue to touch Lucille.

Reaching for the other strap of Lucille’s dress, Y/N lowered her head in closer to kiss over Lucille’s collarbone while she lazily dragged the strap down. Getting the dress pulled down to below Lucille’s breasts made a sharp breath fall from Y/N’s throat. God, Lucille was stunning. Another involuntary moan escaped Y/N’s throat when Negan’s caress got more determined and she found it harder to stand on her shaky legs. Lucille stepped forward; her forehead pressed to Y/N’s while she kept her hands hooked over Y/N’s hips. “Negan…”

“Mhmm?” Negan lift his head to look up at the two of them and he pulled his palm from where it was hearing the gasp that followed when he pulled his finger from Y/N’s body. Lifting his fingers to his lips, Negan slid his finger into his mouth letting out a satisfied sound when he tasted Y/N against his tongue. “I love the way you taste…”

Lucille released a shocked sound when Negan quickly reached for the material of the dress that was still at her waist and he tugged it down in a hurry. It pulled Lucille closer to him when he managed to get it from her body. The way Negan ate his wife alive with his stare was something to be admired. It was clear that Negan still found Lucille to be absolutely stunning even in this situation and Y/N was in adoration of the connection the two of them still plainly had when they began to kiss again.

“Lay down,” Negan slurred when he pulled his mouth from Lucille’s to look at Y/N. Adjusting himself on the bed, he pat where he wanted Y/N to be, but when she wasn’t moving fast enough, he pulled her to the bed. The quick movements caused him to fall in over her with a chuckle while Y/N’s hands braced over his chest to keep a small distance between them. Y/N’s heart was pounding inside of her chest when Lucille reached for the material of Y/N’s pants to work them open. “I knew I’d like you from the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

“Yeah?” Y/N breathed with her eyes hooked on his. His eyes narrowed and he nodded, a wicked smirk pressing over his ridiculously handsome features. Brushing her fingers through his thick, dark hair Y/N took in the sensation of him over her. It felt nice to be in a bed and have the weight of him over her. It was different than what they had done the other night. This felt more…intimate. If that was even possible. “Me too.”

“Good,” Negan growled, hopping up to his knees again to grab a hold of Y/N’s pants to pull them from her body. He tossed the material aside and stood up from the bed, moving over toward the camera that Y/N had set up to look at it. “Get to know each other a little bit.”

“Do you know what you’re doing with that?” Y/N stammered and Negan gave her a glare when he touched something with the camera.

“I’m not going to break anything,” Negan assured her with an amused breath when Lucille laid in the bed beside Y/N. There was the fear that Negan would mess something up, but it was soon hidden away when Lucille began to kiss Y/N again. Lucille’s palm slid from the center of Y/N’s chest down her abdomen and toward the top of her panties. Lucille repeated her movements and Y/N found herself wanting to touch Lucille as well. She was enamored by Lucille and she couldn’t quite explain it.

Teasing her fingers through Lucille’s long, dark hair, Y/N leaned up to meet Lucille in another desperate kiss. Her palm slid down Lucille’s torso before sliding back up to palm in over her full breast. Knowing that Negan was watching them also added to kinkiness of all of it.

“Don’t mind me,” Negan finished what he was doing with the camera before moving to them. He reached for Y/N’s hips to grab her panties. Her hips arched up when Negan got the material down her legs. Almost immediately after, he moved for Lucille and did the same thing. Dropping down on his knees on the bottom of the bed, he crawled slowly to lower himself between Lucille’s body. The girls were still kissing, focusing on each other and Negan slid his arms under Lucille’s thighs to pull her up toward him. His mouth pressed wet kisses over the inside of Lucille’s thigh before his mouth met her core and kissed over her folds again and again. Y/N went to get up and Negan pulled his mouth away from Lucille’s body. “What are you doing?”

“What you brought me here for,” Y/N responded with a wink and a cocky expression. She deposited a small kiss over Negan’s mouth when he lifted his head enough before moving forward to the camera to pull it from the tripod. She moved to the bed and Negan let out an amused laugh before going back to what he was doing in pleasuring his wife. “I take my job seriously.”

“I like that,” Lucille panted with a whimper when Negan wiggled his head side to side while his tongue and mouth worked over her body. Y/N felt her own body on fire while she watched them together. Lucille reached down to cling to Negan’s hair while he pleasured her and the look on Lucille’s face showed how much she was truly enjoying what Negan was doing.

Never did Y/N think she would be shooting something that felt like a porn, but here she was. Even weirder was that she was part of it. Getting multiple shots of what they were doing, Y/N felt her heart pounding inside of her chest while doing it. Lucille’s chest was rising and falling heavily while Negan pleasured her and her soft cries were filling the air.

“Damn it Negan,” Lucille whimpered when Negan pulled his mouth away from her body. Lucille’s body was shaking and Negan let out a laugh full of mischief when he seductively licked over his lips. “I was almost there.”

Y/N adjusted the camera and set it back on the tripod before returning to the bed. Lowering in over Negan’s back, she deposited small kisses over the back of his neck, down his spine and stopped when she reached the top of the waistband of his boxer briefs. Sliding her fingers beneath the material she watched Negan lift his hips to help her get the material from his body when he turned on his side.

“Get on your back,” Y/N threw out an order and Negan seemed impressed with her direction when he laid down beside Lucille on the bed. “How about you take control instead of letting him have it?”

Lucille gave Y/N a wink, getting up on her knees while Y/N lowered to wrap her fingers around Negan’s solid manhood. Stroking in strong, languid movements while watching Lucille carefully straddle Negan’s shoulders made Y/N smile. The fact Lucille listened to Y/N made her feel better about this whole thing. Having some kind of power made Y/N feel like she fit in better. Negan’s palms squeezed tightly to Lucille’s hips while he lifted his head to go back to pleasuring her. Caressing over his body a few more times, Y/N enjoyed the sight before her.

“Fuck…” Negan groaned against Lucille’s flesh making Lucille cry out when Y/N took Negan into her mouth, sliding him back into her throat before dragging her tongue firmly over the underside when she pulled her head back. Y/N hollowed her cheeks and worked in unison with the stroking motions with her hand while she pleasured Negan. Eagerly, Negan’s hips bounced up to her movements and she could hear Lucille’s whimpers intensifying the more Y/N seemed to affect Negan.

Lucille’s body slouched forward after she released somewhat of a squeal and Y/N pulled her mouth from Negan’s cock with a popping sound when she noticed Lucille shaking from an orgasm that Negan clearly got out of her. Lucille pulled herself to the bed beside Negan, stretching out her slender body while she breathed heavily.

“You okay?” Negan licked his lips in a seductive sweep and when she nodded, Negan reached for Y/N to pull her up to him. Rolling, he used his weight to trap her beneath him and pinned her wrists to the bed. Negan’s mouth collided with hers and she could feel him pulling her hips up to him when he reached between them to grab a hold of his distended flesh. Smacking his hips forward, he heard Y/N cry out when he entered her and his jaw lowered with a growl falling from his lips. “You’ve been a constant source of surprise, you know that?”

Negan bounced his hips forward into hers time and time again making soft cries fall from her throat. The weight of him over her felt incredible while he hit all the right places inside of her. Negan’s gaze lifted to look at Lucille and when their eyes connected it seemed like Negan’s thrusts got sharper and harder. Winces fell from Y/N’s throat and she scratched at Negan’s shoulders hearing his moans getting louder.

“Brace yourself on your hands and knees over her Lucille,” Negan demanded pulling his hips back making Y/N cry out from the empty feeling that he left her with. Easily Negan moved them where he wanted them and when the closeness of Lucille pressed in over Y/N she licked her lips nervously. Lucille was so close to her and the warmth of her body was radiating against Y/N’s. “I think we all know I’m a little greedy.”

The smacking sound of Negan entering Lucille from behind was heard and Y/N found herself in awe of the face that Lucille was making while Negan fucked her. Reaching up to stroke over Lucille’s jawline, Y/N instinctively lifted up to kiss over Lucille’s face until her mouth met Lucille’s. The sounds of Negan’s heavy breaths were heard while Lucille rocked over her with each powerful movement Negan made behind her.

Lifting her hand, Y/N used her thumb to caress over Lucille’s clitoris while Negan thrust into Lucille’s body. When he thrust forward it would urge Lucille’s hips forward into Y/N’s caress time and time again causing her to coo out in ecstasy while both Negan and Y/N worked together.

A whine released from Lucille’s throat when Negan pulled his body from hers and tugged on Y/N’s body to bring her hips closer to him. Negan adjusted and thrust himself into Y/N again making her head drop back while Negan now took his turn fucking her.

“Do you like his big cock?” Lucille purred, her mouth vibrating against Y/N’s lips while her hand lowered to offer the same caress that Y/N had done to her previously. “He might have a big mouth, but he knows how to use his dick well.”

“Gee, thanks baby,” Negan grunted with a laugh, lowering down to press wet kisses over Lucille’s shoulder before biting at her flesh making Lucille purr when he did it.

“So good,” Y/N whimpered when Negan’s hips bucked up harder against her and the tip of his cock was hitting her G-spot in a way that made her cry out. Lucille’s soft fingertips aided in the caress of Y/N’s small bundle of nerves while the husband and wife were drawing her incredibly close to an amazing orgasm.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you sweetheart?” Lucille quickened her caress and Negan rolled his hips faster against Y/N. Lucille’s mouth hovered over Y/N’s when Y/N felt her body tensing up. There was a liquid warmth building inside of her and she whimpered into Lucille’s mouth when Lucille began to kiss her. Y/N’s orgasm hit her hard as Negan continued to fuck her through it, enjoying the contractions that her body did around him. She was undoubtedly loud when she came, but both Lucille and Negan seemed to enjoy it. “Negan made such a good choice with you.”

“I sure as fuck did,” Negan grunted, pulling his body from Y/N’s to enter Lucille again while reaching for her hair to pull her back against him while he fucked her. Negan’s eyes were hooked on Y/N while she attempted to catch her breath. Watching Negan kissing over Lucille’s neck while he had a firm hold on her throat was almost an art piece in itself. The way their bodies moved together was beautiful and Y/N found herself lucky that she got to experience and watch this.

“Negan,” Lucille’s soft cries filled the air and Y/N could see Lucille’s body twitching revealing that she had just hit an orgasm herself and a cocky laugh came from Negan. Pulling his length from Lucille’s body Negan watched her fall forward on her hands on the bed. Her breathing was loud and he reached down to caress over his pulsating cock that was ready for a release itself. “Shit.”

“You like my big mouth,” Negan reached out to smack over Lucille’s bottom and wiggled his finger to get Y/N to come to him when he moved to the edge of the bed. “Come here beautiful.”

Weakly, Y/N lifted from the bed and slid to the bottom of it. Negan reached for her head and brushed his fingers in over the back of her neck leading her to take him into her mouth again. Lapping at Negan’s body with her tongue, Y/N felt Lucille moving in beside her and Negan reached for Lucille to pull her in closer to his cock.

“Share ladies,” Negan pulled his cock from Y/N’s mouth and led it to Lucille’s lips. His head fell back, his eyes closing tightly while he smiled when Lucille took him into her mouth. Lucille sucked over his tip and Y/N pressed wet kisses over Negan’s shaft. Negan grasped at both of them, caressing over their necks while they took turns taking him into their mouths. When Negan’s abdomen started to twitch, Lucille pumped her hand harder over his shaft and his moans got louder. “Fuck…”

Y/N’s eyes closed when the first line of Negan’s release hit the back of her throat and she worked to swallow down what he had to offer while his hips bucked to her through his orgasm. When his body stopped shaking, Y/N pulled her mouth from his body and licked at her lips.

“Fucking hell…” Negan’s raspy voice was even deeper when he saw Lucille reach for Y/N to kiss her to get the taste of Negan’s release from Y/N’s mouth and Negan smiled arrogantly. “I think we could make this a thing…that is if you both liked it.”

Negan stroked his fingers over both of their faces and he lowered down to kiss both of them before laying between them on the bed. Lucille laid over his chest kissing over it and Negan had his nose nuzzled up against the side of Y/N’s neck.

“I’m open to it,” Lucille announced with a wink when Y/N’s eyes met hers and it made Y/N bite into her bottom lip.

“Well, since we’re all about favors…I’ll be okay with it as long as when we do our next photoshoot together…you bring her with you,” Y/N muttered and Negan laughed against the side of her neck before kissing softly over it.

“I think we can work that out,” Negan turned his head to meet Lucille in another kiss. Minutes passed and they laid together in the bed before Negan lifted his head to look at the camera that they still had set up. “That…that is going to be one hell of a video.”

#Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan Smut #negan fanfiction #The Walking Dead #negan x reader

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sunaswife · 3 years

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Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: hi hii 🥺 I’m so happy and i love this chapter even though it’s all over the place so I’m sorry plz forgive me 🙇‍♀️

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter eight

You heard Hana and Jamie bickering in the living room as you took the burnt part off of the bell peppers you roasted. You were looking out the window in front of the sink every once in a while to check up on the kids. They were having fun playing with their father and uncles. You’ve never seen them smile brighter.

You were happy that they finally had their father, Tobio was a good figure but obviously not their real father. Earlier Rin gave his first scolding to your son for shoving Akira and he also told Akira that calling people idiot wasn’t nice. You couldn’t help but snicker behind your cardigan since he was obviously nervous and a bit awkward but it all worked out in the end. The twins and your best friends were peering through the door at the scene and they were in awe.

It just looked so natural. You, Rin and the kids. All that’s missing is a pet dog or cat. Jamie thought if you and Rin really try then you both could fall in love again and be a nice family all together. She grew up with divorced parents so she knew how tough it could be. She doesn’t want to hear you and Rin fighting in the future about upcoming holidays. Or maybe eventually having to separate the twins.

“Hana do you think you could ask the guys if they want to stay for dinner?” You said from the kitchen. “Oka-“ “No y/n, I think you should do it.” Jamie popped in. “Huh? I’m literally cooking.” You said as you reached into the bag of roasted peppers. Your fingers were stuck onto the black crisps. “You’re trying to avoid them.” She squinted and you rolled your eyes. “No I’m not.” You defended yourself. “Yes you are.” She deadpanned. “You never say no to setting for your kids. Even if you’re busy you tell them to give you five or ten minutes but when Rini asked you straight up said no since you needed to cook. I think that stung him a bit. He probably wanted to show off his skills to his dad.” She said and you frowned slightly. “I mean it’s fine, she’s probably uncomfortable which makes sense. The worst people in the world are just chilling in her house. It makes sense that she’s on edge.” The familiar voice said and you turned to see Atsumu leaning against the breakfast bar between your kitchen and living room. You didn’t want to say he’s right..but I mean..he’s right.

“...would you like to stay for dinner?” You asked awkwardly as Jaime sighed and walked away. “Mmm depends, what are you making?” He teased to try to help you ease up. “Food, either take it or leave it.” You said plainly as you flipped the pepper on the stove. “I miss your cooking so I think I’ll stay. Let me call Osamu so he can help.” He said and you immediately protested. “No it’s fine, you guys are the guests. I’ll feel bad.” You said and he chuckled. “Y/N-Chan..” he started, “Osamu owns his own restaurant, all he does is eat, cook, and work out. He would want nothing more than to help you cook. It’s in his DNA.” He said and you rolled your eyes. “Fine ask Rin if he wants to stay too.” You said. “Oh he’ll want to stay, plus we all carpooled together.” He said and you nodded and he left.

“Yo, we gotta go.” Jamie said from the doorway. “Did you say bye to the kids?” You asked and she nodded. “Sorry Y/N, we have a doctors appointment.” Jamie frowned slightly. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you later.” You smiled and she nodded sadly. After a quick goodbye hug they were out the door and Osamu was waiting in the kitchen to help you cook.

“Alright boss, let’s get started.” He said as he washed his hands and you chuckled.

Dinner went good, the kids mainly talked and were the stars of the show. After dinner they wanted to show their uncles and dad their Minecraft worlds on their tablets, courtesy of Tobio.

Suna offered to help clean up but you insisted it was fine and to spend as much time with the kids and he reluctantly agreed and you were left alone.

Your phone buzz after you sat on the breakfast bar to enjoy yet another cup of tea and you almost spilled it when you saw who was calling. “Holy shit, holy shit.” You muttered and the guys immediately turned to you from their spots on the couch. “I’m going to take this phone call I’ll be right back.” You said leaving Rin in charge and you answered while you made your way down the hall.

“Hello?” “Hi is this Y/N? This is Natsuo, the songwriter and director for the soundtrack for Kimetsu No Yaiba. From my understanding you are voicing Nezuko and Shinobu, correct?” “That is correct, sir.” You replied, “Well I stumbled across your portfolio and resume and I phone called your old vocal coach and he said some things about you.” He said. “Well I hope they’re all good.” You chuckled nervously.

“Yes they’re more than good actually and I wanted to offer you the opportunity of singing the opening for the anime, if not then maybe the outro. Would you be interested? Of course you’d have to come to the studio and sing for us and we’ll decide but I wanted to ask first since I know you also work as a volleyball commentator as well.” He said and you gasped.

“Yes sir of course, I would be honored...” you said happily. “Great! I see that you come in the studio on Monday for the read through of the script. Can you come earlier to audition?” He asked and you agreed and set up a time.

Normally any other person would want to audition after but if it’s singing, you can’t eat or drink sweet stuff before because it messes up your throat and you can accidentally burp and embarrass yourself. So you’d rather do the singing audition before and eat whatever is at the snack bar during the read through.

When you hung up the phone you squealed and did a little happy dance. You quickly took a deep breath and you made your way out of your office back to the living room. “Um...where are the twins? The Miya’s I mean.” You asked when you saw that only Suna was chilling with a kid on each side of him. “Osamu needed to check up on his shop and Atsumu had to go to the gym. I decided to stay behind because I didn’t know how long you would take.” He replied.

“But didn’t you all carpool?” You asked and he nodded. “I can Uber. Don’t worry.” He said and you nodded and sat next to Rini. “Kids guess what.” You said happily and they both looked up from their tablets. “I go to the studio on monday—“ “THE STUDIO CAN WE GO?!” They immediately asked with bright eyes. “Uh—I don’t know guys, I’m working and Jamie has work too i don’t know if someone can watch you guys at the studio.” You said. “What time and I’ll go. I can keep them entertained.” Suna spoke up.

“I’m gonna be there for a few hours..I’ll have a read through of the script and a song audition before that..” you told him. “Wait what do you do anyways?” He asked curiously and the kids gasped. “You don’t know what mommy does for a living?! She’s the coolest mom in the world.” Rini exclaimed with extended arms to emphasize the world. “Listen to the voice of the narrator.“ Akira said and shoved the tablet in his hands. It was Peppa pig. Honestly they couldn’t find a cooler role you played in? Even the side characters were fine, but Akira had to choose peppa pig.

Rin listened to peppa as she scolded her little brother Georgie. And finally he heard your voice narrate what happened and his eyes widened. “No way, you’re a voice actor?” He asked and you nodded. “Wow imagine that. You were always so shy and now your voice is heard by millions across the world.” He teased and your face tinted.

“Well when you put it like that it freaks me out!” You snatched the tablet from his hands and the kids looked at each other with raised brows. “I’m only kidding. But it’s pretty amazing that you do that. Any big roles you’re playing soon?” He asked. “I may or may not be acting in Kimetsu No Yaiba.” You said which was a manga series you both were obsessed with when you were together. “Say sike right now.” He gasped and you gave him that I’m serious face.

“Congrats Y/N. That’s freaking amazing. May i ask who you’re voicing?” He asked and you shook your head. “That’s a secret.” You said and he sighed. “Man got my hopes up for nothing.” He muttered causing your kids to giggle.

“Momma we invited dad to the field trip tomorrow he said yes.” Akira spoke up and your eyes widened. “Wait what—“ “I didn’t necessarily say yes. I wanted to make sure it was cool with you, first. They told me that they were homeschooled and you take them to different places for field trips all the time.” He tried to correct Akira and you nodded.

“Well...I mean..if you want to go then it’s fine. We’re going to an aquarium.” You said and the kids gave him puppy dog eyes. “Alright I’ll go then. It’ll be fun and you guys can show me what you’ve learned.” He smiled softly and the kids cheered. Is this really a good idea? You don’t know. But if your kids are happy, then you’re happy.

“Rin It’s getting late they have bath time and then they need to sleep.” You told him as the kids ran up and down the hall racing with Rini’s toy cars. “Alright then I’ll leave.” “I’m not kicking you out of anything-“ “No it’s fine I get it. I’ve intruded in your territory long enough.” He chuckled and you nodded. “Children of the corn! I’m leaving.” He called and immediately the kids emerged from the hallway and began whining and protesting. “You need to take a bath then go to bed. It’s late. I’m seeing you tomorrow anyways.” He knelt down on his knee to be of eye level with the kids.

“But we don’t want you to leave. I won’t sleep if you don’t read me a story.” Rini pouted and Akira nodded and you both sighed. “Fine, I’ll read you a bed time story and you will go sleep.” He told them and they nodded.

You rounded up the kids for a bubble bath and Rin was sitting on the counter as you explained what kind of kids soap you use and such. But he was mostly watching the kids play with the bubbles. “Hey Akira do you think I’ll look cool with my hair like this?” Rini asked with his messy wannable mohawk, he looked more like the grinch. Akira looked at her brother and snorted. “You look like a troll.” She muttered causing Rini to pout. “You’re so mean.” He mumbled. You got the shower head and told Akira to close her eyes as you finished washing her hair and body and she was finished. “Do you wanna try to finish Rini while I change Akira?” You asked Suna and his eyes widened. “I only know how to bathe my dog, I don’t know how to bathe a kid.” He protested. “Weren’t you watching me?” You asked. “I was distracted with the bubbles, okay.” He deadpanned and you sighed. “Rini help your dad.” You said plainly and left despite Suna’s protests.

“Alright princess, let’s get you dried up and ready for bed, yeah?” You asked the shivering girl in your arms and she nodded. You placed her on the bed and dried her hair a bit and you began to put on her lotion. You helped her into her underwear and she wanted to wear her fox onzie so you began helping her feet in when Rini stumbled in naked with Rin chasing after him with a towel. They were both soaking wet.

“Oh my god.” You sighed. “Boys.” Akira mumbled and you nodded. “You’re worse than washing a dog.” He said as he held him and dried his hair. “Woof.” Rini snickered and Suna flicked his forehead. “I’m soaking wet now.” He deadpanned to his son. You zipped up Akira after successfully placing her in her onzie and you moved on to your son. “Stop giving your dad such a hard time, he’s new to this whole parenting thing ya know?” You told him as you began to rub his face with lotion. “Akira go brush your teeth.” You told her and she pulled her dad along with her. “What do you want to wear to sleep?” You asked. “Can I wear my Fox onzie too?” He asked and you nodded. “Of course.” You replied and helped him into it too.

Rini went on his way to brush his teeth and you were met with the view of Rin helping his daughter floss and you just wanted to melt. This was so freaking cute. You don’t know if your heart could handle the cuteness. “Alrighty next victim!” Rin said and picked up Rini. He began to help him brush his teeth. You helped Akira down from the counter and she went off to look for a good book. You decided it was best to get one of Tobio’s shirts and shorts he had lying around for Rin so he wouldn’t get sick.

When Rini finished brushing his teeth, he went out to help Akira search for a book. “Are you still soaked?” You asked and Suna nodded. “Here wear this so you won’t get sick.” You tossed him some gym shorts and a random T-shirt. He gave a small thanks and you closed the bathroom door to leave him to change. “Alright where are my little foxes?” You hummed and you found your little demons kids jumping on your bed and patiently waiting to read. “Why aren’t you both in bed?” You asked and they stopped jumping and turned to you. “We wanna sleep here with you and daddy!” Rini said and you almost choked on air.

WITH RIN?! ARE THEY CRAZY OR CRAZY?

“Baby he’s not spending the night. He’s only going to read you a bedtime story then leave. You’ll see him tomorrow when you wake up.” You told them and they both had the saddest look on their faces. “But we wanna sleep with you and daddy. Please can he spend the night. Please please please!” Akira begged.

“I don’t mind if you don’t. It’s only for the night.” Rin almost whispered in your ear and you turned your head to him. “Are you sure? What about tomorrow? What are you going to wear?” You asked, “We can stop by my apartment in the morning before we head out.” He said and you raised a brow and turned back to your kids they were already comfy on the middle of your bed and you released your nth sigh of the day. “Fine, one night.” You answered and grabbed your pajamas and left to the bathroom to change.

When you returned Rin was on the left side of the bed with Rini right next to him. Akira patted your spot on the right side and you sat against the headboard of the bed. The twins had two books they wanted you both to read but they all fell asleep while you read the second one. You looked to see Rin, Rini and Akira sleeping and you can never get over how similar they looked like Rin. You quietly hopped out of bed and put the books away and turned off the lights.

You woke up to the sun shining on your face and arms around your waist. You felt a weight on your chest and you sighed and opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to make sure you weren’t seeing things but sure enough, Rin was sleeping on your chest. Just like old times and you tried to control your breathing. You don’t want to be the type of ex who yells and they fall off the bed. You realized the kids were not on the bed too and if Rin was cuddling you, then they must have been gone for a while.

“Rintarou—the kids—WAKE UP!” You quickly shook him and he opened his eyes and quickly moved away. He felt around him and he noticed the kids weren’t there. You both paused in silence to see if you can hear them but when you didn’t you quickly yeeted yourself off the bed with Rin following right at your tail. You opened the door to the twins room and you saw them in their own bed hugging their plushies. You held a hand over your chest and you leaned against the doorframe. “My heart literally dropped.” You turned to Rin.

“Mine did too. Do they usually do that?” He asked. “No, never.” You sighed and closed the door.

The twins opened their eyes and they looked at eachother from across the room. “I told you mom would get a heart attack. We’re lucky she didn’t cry.” Akira whispered. “Whatever at least they cuddled together like a nice married couple.” Rini whispered back and Akira nodded. “I hope mommy and daddy get back together.” Akira said. “They will, our plan is perfect.” Rini whispered mischievously and Akira smiled.

TAGLIST IS CLOSED

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime69 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #miya atsumu #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader

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peaceoutofthepieces · 3 years

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Tracing Time

Saturday, 08:10

Song: Her - Five Minutes

The sun comes out.

It had risen hours ago with Sander, but also like him had then tucked itself away, making its ascent behind a flurry of dense clouds. Now Sander watches as the last wisps slither aside and reveal the full circle.

It hasn’t been up quite long enough to warm the concrete roof Sander sits on. He’d thought, rightly, to grab his jacket before slipping out around an hour prior, and he’s grateful for the tough leather now. He hadn’t bothered bringing his camera, so his hands are also safely tucked into his pockets. He doesn’t need any more photographs of this view than he already has.

He likes it fine like this. To just sit and see. He doesn’t need to capture it. To have it exist in this moment is enough.

Being so high up likely doesn’t help with the chill, but this is one of Sander’s favourite spots. He’d been pleased, the day one of his professors took their class to one of the older buildings in the academy and climbed the back stairs right to the top. They’d had to capture this scene that day. The sun glinting amidst the clouds, the clouds obscuring the tops of some of the area’s highest buildings, and all the life going on down below. Even now there are a few students milling around there, heading to their studios early or meeting fellow classmates, and interspersed is the honk of morning traffic, the hustle and bustle of a world just beginning to wake.

Sander is apart from all of it. The sun is slanting a ray solely for him; the beings below are tiny specks of colour splashed amidst the gray; the level of the world he’s entered is quiet, aside from the music lilting lightly in his ears.

He had been even more pleased that day to notice none of his fellow classmates had paid much attention to the roof itself, but simply focused on the task at hand. He had wondered how such a perfect place of solace wasn’t already constantly occupied, especially when it could be so easily accessed by a whole school of art students. He hadn’t thought he would be able to make it his own.

But sitting on the lip of the building, legs hung over the edge and arms resting on one of the lower bars stopping him from falling to his death, it does feel like the rooftop belongs to him and him alone. The thought is enough to bring a smile to his face.

He’s the only one seeing this right now, the only one capable of capturing this exact image at this exact time. It doesn’t—like many things do—make him feel as isolated or small as he expects. It reminds him that he has his own vision and his own mind and his own existence, and this must mean he is meant for something. This eagle-eye perspective of this universe in this exact moment is made just for him.

His smile widens as he ponders on how Robbe-like that thought is.

It’s this thought that eventually draws him away. He slides his legs back onto solid concrete and hauls himself to his feet, wincing at the twinge in his ass and brushing stone crumbs off the back of his jeans. Then he slips back through the doorway and down the stairs and begins the trek back to his number-one solace.

His feet cry out in relief as he quietly lets himself into the house and pulls off his Docs. They aren’t the best walking shoes. His feet feel achy and sweaty and he curls and rolls his toes on the wooden floor as he hangs his jacket back on his usual hook. Then he climbs another set of stairs.

He’s relieved to find Robbe exactly how he left him, only now lit in a more golden glow. The boy is curled on his side, facing the doorway Sander has just crept through, curls splayed on the pillow and mouth slightly agape. Fast asleep. Beautiful.

Sander tugs off his jumper and steps out of his jeans, then rounds the bed and crawls back in next to his boyfriend.

The sheets have chilled since he vacated them, unhelpful against his already-cold skin. He shifts towards the middle of the mattress and already feels warmer. The heat emanating from Robbe beckons him closer, and he doesn’t fight it, slipping right into the dip behind Robbe and sliding an arm over his waist, pulling the boy back against his chest. Robbe moves easily, snuggling back into Sander with a sigh, and Sander’s whole body blooms with heat.

As much as he likes his rooftop, there’s no doubt that this is his favourite place to be. ‘This’ being anywhere within Robbe’s orbit.

He doesn’t quite drift off again, but his body goes pleasantly lax and his mind quiets. The longer he listens to Robbe’s soft breaths the more his own heart eases.

Then Robbe starts to shift, and Sander worries he’s woken him. He wriggles in Sander’s arms and Sander loosens his grip, but Robbe simply rolls over in his embrace, turning to face him and immediately curling towards his chest. Sander’s lips turn up in a smile as he draws him in, pressing his nose to Robbe’s soft curls and inhaling slowly. Robbe’s arm curls over his waist, tucking around his back and denting his skin.

He traces patterns over Robbe’s bare shoulder in the few minutes it takes for Robbe to stir again. His grip tightens on Sander for a second as his eyes scrunch, refusing to succumb to the sunlight as he presses closer to Sander’s chest.

Sander presses a kiss to the top of his head as he lets out a tiny, whiny hum, still half-asleep as he stretches his toes against Sander’s ankles and blinks.

Robbe’s doe eyes, even while squinty and crusted with sleep, are the most mesmerizing things he’s ever seen. The corners of them crinkle as Robbe leans back far enough to smile up at him before burying his face back in the crook of Sander’s neck. “Morning,” he mumbles. Then he kisses the closest patch of Sander’s skin.

Sander hugs him tight and returns, “Morning. Sleep well?”

Robbe hums again. “Wha’ time is it?”

“I don’t know. Still before nine, I think.”

“Okay,” Robbe sighs, giving him a squeeze. “We still have some time then.” After a pause, he pulls away from Sander again and looks up at him curiously. “Did you go out? You’re cold.”

This last bit comes out as a whine, and Sander huffs. “Yeah. Just for a walk.”

Robbe hums, smiling as he snuggles back into him again, pushing Sander onto his back so he can sprawl out over his chest and lock their arms together. “Taking photos?”

“No. Didn’t take my camera or anything.”

“But you took your phone, right?”

“Of course, I needed music.”

Robbe huffs, but accepts this response without further questions, leaving a smiling kiss on Sander’s chest. He repeats the motion, then starts up a lazy trail, mapping his way across Sander’s collarbone until Sander tugs his hair. Robbe tilts his head up and lets Sander connect their lips, shifting up on the bed and pressing a hand to Sander’s cheek. Sander’s hand moves to cup the back of Robbe’s head, fingers tangling in his curls and drawing him closer. Robbe’s hand moves up his chest to settle in the crook of his neck and he feels suddenly warm.

He skims a hand down Robbe’s back, tracing the divots and dents of his spine, breathing slow under Robbe’s lazy kisses. He palms at Robbe’s hip, and Robbe quickly takes the hint, lifting his leg over Sander’s and settling atop him before letting out a happy hum.

“Good morning,” he says, amused and cheeky, and Sander bites his lip in retaliation.

Robbe giggles and Sander swallows the sound down, tucks it away in the lower part of his chest to be dug up later. He has made up a whole portfolio of these precious sounds, along with a plethora of the most stunning images and a sad imitation of Robbe’s touch. It’s hard to beat the real thing.

Sander soaks up as much of it as he can now and still begs for more, splaying one hand over shoulder-blades and letting the other slide down, curling over the curve of Robbe’s bottom, drawing him down while tilting his own hips up. Now Robbe’s hum is lower, coming from a more guttural place as he bears down on his own, only requiring that initial permission.

He breaks away to gaze down at Sander, tracing light fingertips over his face as he breathes heavily. Sander smooths his hand back up the line of Robbe’s back to tangle both in his hair. This time he makes his way along Robbe’s cheek, feathering kisses against the stubbly skin until he can brush his lips against the shell of Robbe’s ear and nip at the lobe, free of his earring for the moment. Robbe makes a small, mewling noise and tightens his grip on Sander’s shoulders.

“What time are you leaving?” Sander asks, keeping his voice at a murmur so as not to spoil the mood entirely.

“Jens is meeting me here around ten.”

Sander groans. “You can’t make that ten-thirty?”

Robbe huffs gently. He places his hands on Sander’s chest and pushes himself up to sitting, still astride Sander’s hips. Sander would be more upset with the new lack of contact if it didn’t give him such a nice view; Robbe is all clean-cut lines and lean muscle, with skin glowy and soft under Sander’s fingers. “Jens wanted to be gone yesterday,” Robbe reminds him, not unkindly.

“Why didn’t he just go with Lucas, then?”

“Because he agreed to wait around so I could spend the night with you.” Robbe raises his brows. At Sander’s permanent pout, he huffs again, shaking his head. “You can still come with, you know. We’re going to get a break before the end of school. Couldn’t you do with a break, too?”

Sander groans again and pulls Robbe’s pillow over his face. “I can’t,” he moans. “This project is due on Monday. Unless I stayed up all night tomorrow, I wouldn’t have time to finish it.”

Robbe hums. “You’re usually the one begging me to keep you up all night.”

Sander gives him a sour look, even as his stomach flutters.

“I’m sorry,” Robbe laughs. “I really am. But you know Lucas never asks for anything.”

“And you want to go.”

Robbe hesitates, but he never lies to Sander. He gives a tiny nod and an apologetic smile. “I do. And Jens really needs it.”

Sander considers him for a moment, the lovely curve of his lips and the gentle doe-eyes, and blows out a sigh. “You deserve it,” he says softly. He gives Robbe’s ear a tug and allows himself to smile. “And I suppose I’ll survive.”

It only takes Robbe’s grin to prove he’s done the right thing. Robbe leans down to leave him a kiss, light but lingering, and then turns it into a dozen different pecks instead. “You better. Thank you.”

Sander can only lie there and accept the onslaught of affection, laughing as he settles his hands on Robbe’s thighs and squeezes. He meant what he said—Robbe does deserve it. They hadn’t managed to get away over the break as initially planned, so when Lucas invited them back to Utrecht this weekend they had jumped on the offer. Sander had shared the excitement initially, but then had quickly been reminded of his reality, in which he had stupidly chosen to leave things to the last minute.

“I feel more sorry for you, anyway,” Sander mumbles, emitting a low whistle. “I’ll be alone, but at least I’ll have a quiet night.”

Robbe immediately pushes himself up again, wide-eyed. “No. We’re staying at Lucas’s house, with his mom. Surely they won’t…”

Sander snorts, waving at the space around them and raising a brow. “Where are we right now, Robbe?” At Robbe’s blush, he purses his lips together, making his own eyes big in suggestion. “It is a stress-relief getaway.”

Robbe buries his face in his hands and groans. He rolls off of Sander even as the elder protests, peeking through his hands to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m going to come home traumatised. It’ll be worse than the time I walked in on him and Jana.”

“Not if you don’t walk in on them,” Sander laughs. Seconds later, a pillow smacks him in the face. He makes a muffled protest as he’s attacked again, grabbing at the soft material and wrestling it out of Robbe’s grip to whack him back, hearing Robbe make an ‘oof’ sound before breaking out into giggles.

Eventually, Sander tosses the pillow aside and wrestles Robbe instead, getting him flat on his back and moving over him. He slots a leg between Robbe’s and presses their tangled hands down either side of Robbe’s head, and Robbe’s eyelids droop. Then his fingers flex around Sander’s as his lips part. His neck strains as his head tilts up. Sander ducks down, but forgoes Robbe’s lips to lick a stripe up his neck.

“Sander,” Robbe whines, squirming underneath him in protest even as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“What?”

“We haven’t got long.”

Sander hums, pulling the patch of skin he’d been kissing between his teeth to hear Robbe gasp. “We’d have longer if you were going to stay.”

“Sander,” Robbe repeats, this time in sullen protest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sander soothes. “We still have enough time though, don’t we?”

“Did you hear my mom when you got back?”

“Nope. I assume she’s still sound asleep.”

Robbe smiles at that, pleased, and Sander finally grants him a kiss, slow and sensual until Robbe makes a needy little sound and squeezes his hands. Sander releases his hands and Robbe immediately tangles them in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“How many minutes do we have to make up for?” Sander asks him.

“Too many to waste time calculating now. We just have enough time to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m gone.” Robbe winks at him, and Sander huffs and goes in for another kiss, but Robbe is already moving. Sander half expects to be rolled over again, but instead Robbe just shimmies down, licking and biting his own way along Sander’s neck before heading lower.

Sander’s arms tremble with the effort of keeping himself up when Robbe’s lips close around his nipple. He draws his pillow over to bury his face in it as Robbe works a mark into his chest, rolling the opposite nipple under his thumb. Once he’s pleased with his work and Sander’s mumbling his name, he makes his way further south.

The following minutes are quite memorable indeed.

~^~

#wtfock #sobbe #rosander #robbe x sander #sander season #tracing time #there is already ✨foreshadowing✨ here #but I’ll be very surprised if anyone figures out what it is hahaha

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starsstruck · 4 years

Text

reclining venus

a friends-to-lovers in where photographer!mc is incited on a getaway in italy along with harry. golden sunsets, finished bottles of wine, and late night sketching.

pairing: harry x reader words:18.5k rated: M

an: after years i am back with something new ! hope everyone enjoys and tell let me know what you think ! would mean the world to me 💖💖 enjoy ! xoxo 💖 askbox 💖

***

“I’m king of the world!”

Lazily looking up, the sun leaving your eyelids heavy. The sight of Harry standing near the edge of the small wooden boat, you smiled softly as you watched the way the breeze made his half-buttoned blue shirt blow behind him, and pushed some of his curls into his face. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of your lips.

Your mind drifted, thinking that in that moment he bore resemblance to Hugh Grant’s character in Bridget Jones Diary, standing up on a boat, on the verge of falling over.

As if reading your mind, you watched his head turn as he met your gaze, wide grin across his face as he quoted the movie that was just on your mind. Letting out a breathy laugh, you matched his smile as you could just get a peek of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses.

“Gonna tip us over,” your voice was soft, as you sunk back to your albeit uncomfortable position, back and bum on the hardwood.

The small getaway to the north of Italy was one that you weren’t expecting, but had gladly agreed to. You had never been to visit the lakes and mountains in the north of the country, and had immediately fallen in love with Orta San Giulio.

You had been working with Harry for nearly two years now. First meeting him when you were working for the studio that shot the cover for his first solo album. You still remember very clearly rushing into work that day, immediately busying yourself once you had gotten in, having seen the plans for the set up.

Not noticing him in that large studio space at first, you had been in the middle of moving a softbox across the room when you had stumbled into him. You remember your mouth hanging open as an arm reached out to steady you, asking you if you needed a hand. He wasn’t even supposed to be on set yet, things were still being put in place but he had come earlier was chatting with people around the set. You hadn’t talked to him again until the very end of the day, when you, your boss and Harry had filtered through the many images of the day. You had been surprised by how easy the two of you had gotten along. The two of you had chatted away, he had even asked to see pictures from your portfolio.

You had seen him a couple times after that day, even grabbing lunch with him when the two of you were both too hungry to keep working. But what had really surprised you was when you got a call, and was asked to join him on tour. You had shown him some of the minor concert photography you had done, never really considering doing it full time.

Yet you still agreed.

After tour, there were periods where you would go some months without seeing each other, but you would always be called up and asked to help with a shoot. And now you found yourself, asked to come to Italy for what was described to you as “a vacation, maybe we’ll do a shoot. Maybe not. Just some time off!”

Again, you had agreed, loving the time you spent with Harry and everyone, and yourself needing a little break. Taking advantage of the situation, you had actually given yourself an even longer vacation after the week was up. You were truly taking advantage of this time to relax.

You were so happy you had agreed to come, lake Orta seeming to come out of a dream. The small town of Orta San Giulio was right on the coast of the lake, mountains surrounding the body of water. Right in the middle of the narrow end of the lake and across from the town, rested a little island with beautiful buildings. A week to explore the space around, you guys had already gone walking through the mountains are were itching to see more.

Today was a bit more of a lazy day.

No one was that energetic to do anything big, the group splitting up. Both Harry and you had been looking into getting out to the water, finding a little rowboat rental company out on the dock. Neither of you were too keen on doing the majority of the rowing, deciding to stop and let the soft waves slowly drift you guys along the water.

It was so nice to float along the water, soft rocking leaving you calm. You rarely got a day to simply enjoy yourself, always having something going on that need to be worked on. You knew that soon you would need to return to the real world, leaving the small bubble you seemed to have created here in Italy. You knew Harry felt it as well. What with his constant busy schedule, you had definitely noticed a change in your friend.

His eyes didn’t hold the same bags they sometimes would, his shoulders not tensed. Even now, the way he stood tall, breathing in the fresh air around him, sun hitting his back. You wished you had your camera with you, even just your phone to take a picture of him, but had decided against bringing anything with you.

Just as you were basking in your relaxation, you were pulled back to reality. As predicted, Harry had managed to stumble from where he was standing. Instantly pulled from where your eyelids rested heavy, skin warm in the sun, you were suddenly met with a stark coldness.

Confusion clouding your mind for a split second as you suddenly found yourself submerged underwater, instinctively making your way up to the surface.

“Ass,” you muttered as you coughed the bit of water finding itself trapped in your mouth. You saw Harry treading next to you, sunglasses having fallen off his face, eyes gleaming as he met your stare.

“My bad,” were the only words leaving his lips, as he chuckled to himself softly, hand moving up to push some hair out from his face.

You coughed again, as you watched Harry turn away from you, and swim up to where your boat was now flipped over. Grabbing hold of it, he turned back to face you, concern now lacing his features.

“Alright?”

Nodding, you swam over to join him, hand resting on the flipped boat. “Yeah, yeah.” Muttering, although you bit at the smile starting to form. “Just be glad we decided not to take anything with us. It’d be lost by now.”

“Think I lost my shades,” Harry nodded, hand moving to where they used to lay perched on his nose.

“That’s what you get.” You couldn’t even feign annoyance towards him, laugh tumbling out after the words left your mouth. “Give me a hand here,” you changed the subject, as you tried to push back the boat upright.

Succeeding, you were now faced with the challenge of how exactly to get back in. “I’ll help y’a out,” Harry said next to you, once again reading your mind. You nodded, as you placed your hand on the edge of the boat, hoping that you had enough strength to pull yourself up. One hand still holding onto the wooden boat for support, Harry stuck out his other hand under the water, motioning for you to use it as a step to help you up.

Shakily, you tried to hoist yourself up, feeling Harry pushing you up from under your foot. Managing to get one leg halfway over, you knew you must look completely ridiculous at the moment as you tried to not so gracefully get out of the water. Body suddenly jolting, as you felt a firm hand on your bum, giving you the last push you needed before successfully getting back into the boat.

“I’ve got half a mind to leave you here, if you can’t keep your hands off my ass.” Teasing, as you looked down to where Harry still floated in the water next to you.

“Just trying to help y’a out, love.” He shot back, small shrug on his shoulders. You watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his lips. You felt your cheeks warm, hoping there was enough sun in his eyes for him not to notice.

It was always like this with Harry. As you guys started working together more often, your relationship had always been friendly. Although, there was always a little flirtatious aspect to your relationship. You usually brushed it off, knowing Harry was like this with a lot of people, that you shouldn’t read too much the cheeky comments that were directed your way.

But then there were the nights where Harry would keep his hand on your leg as you sat next to him, the nights where he pulled at you to sit closer. For all the times you would spend the night with him, of course always having a reason for why it was the most convenient, but maybe neither of you wanted to say that you wanted to spend the night in each other’s arms.

The two of you were both the type of people who enjoyed embracing the people you cared about, small touches as signs of affection. So, it was only natural that when you shared a bed, Harry’s arm always ended up wrapped around you. Especially the nights where the pair of you had had a couple of drinks, Harry always being cockier and a bit grabbier.

The night of Harry’s last show of his first solo tour, a warm summer night in Los Angeles. It was a happy night, Harry giving another amazing performance. You had always found yourself mesmerized with the way he was on stage. After the show had ended, you were backstage and already flipping through the images on your camera.

There was a small party happening backstage, just a small thanks Harry was giving to everyone who had helped him with the album and the tour. Bottles of champagnes were passed around the room, as Harry was thanking members of his team personally.

You had already had about two glasses of champagne before you finally got to talk to Harry yourself. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for an engulfing hug.

“You were amazing,” you told him, voice quiet as your lips were near his ear. “Really amazing, tonight, this whole tour.”

He pulled away from the hug, arms remaining around you. He was beaming, still on his high of performing and of all the love in the room for him. “Thank you, love.” He told you honestly. “And thank you for coming along, these shows can last forever because of your photography.”

“Thank you,” you giggled at his words. “But I play no role in making the shows so incredible -”

He cut you off before you could brush off his compliment. “Don’t say that, don’t even think it,” he was shaking his head at you. “You play a huge role. Can’t be where I am without you.”

You knew his words were not completely true, but you didn’t try to fight him on it. “C’mon love,” Harry turned, arm still around your shoulders, “Let’s go celebrate.”

A group of you had headed out to some club in the city, more drinks passing between the bunch of you. Everyone was chatting away, excited, drunk, happy. Harry was seated next to you, arm around the back of your chair, hand once and a while grabbing at the skin of your arm.

You’d had no idea what time it was when you guys had decided to call it a night, head spinning and exhaust of the day finally catching up. You had stepped out before anyone, followed by Harry. He was once again pulling you in for a big hug, thanking you for the thousandth time that night. You giggled in his arms, as he pressed a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

But he didn’t move away.

You felt his lips push more kisses onto your cheek, moving down to the corner of your jaw. They were light, spongey kisses, but they still made the breath stop in your throat. He paused beneath your earlobe; arms still tight around you.

You felt him press an open mouth kissed on the skin under your ear, hot breath against you sending shivers down your spine. Lips hovering, teeth dragging over your skin, hips jutting against yours. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. He had untangled himself from you in a flash, as the rest of your group joined you outside.

You tried to control the flush growing on your neck, thinking it best to brush it off as the two of you were intoxicated and just affectionate people. But still you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on your skin.

You felt the boat rock once again as Harry put his weight to one side, trying to lift himself up. He held out a hand towards you, as he found himself in the same position you had been. “Help me out, will ya?” He exhaled, looking up to meet your eyes.

Wordlessly reaching out, own hand wrapping around his wrist as you tugged him towards you. Falling into the curve of the boat next to you, Harry let out a sigh as he caught his breath. Now out of the water and aware of the clothes that clung to his body uncomfortably, Harry leaned his head against the edge of the boat, head turning to face you.

Mirroring his motions, you closed your eyes and let out a content hum. “Kind of nice actually, the feeling of the fresh water.” You murmured, sun heating up your skin once again as the two of you sat in silence.

Harry watched you, watched your eyelids flutter and close as you faced the sun, watched as you extended your limbs to feel the warmth all over your body. He followed the drops of water that were coming from your shorts as they ran down your drying skin, his fingers itching to reach out and wipe them off. Eyes trailing up your torso, he glanced at where the wet fabric of your tank top clung so beautifully to your skin. The swell of your breasts so evident, as the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination.

Fuck, Harry couldn’t help but immediately notice how evident it was that you were not wearing a bra. He told himself to look away, that he shouldn’t be looking at you like that, that it would make you uncomfortable if you could see the way his eyes were glued to your body.

“Should be heading back,” Harry muttered, willing the image of your breasts to leave his mind before blood rushed down to his cock. Looking away and pulling himself up from where he rested, the movement and his words having you open your eyes.

“Yeah,” You nodded, eyelids already feeling heavy again, as you fell back into your state of relaxation. “I’m getting hungry.”

***

After dinner and a bottle of wine, the group of you were settled on the small balcony, basking in the warm night. You were in the midst of talking about the work you did outside of photography, after had prompted you about the years you had spent in art school.

Where photography was your favourite medium to work with, along with video, you were still quite fond of drawing and painting as well. Having to experiment with different modes of creation when you were in school, you took a big liking to drawing and painting. However, you found yourself not able to express what you wanted the way you could with photography, appreciating the mediums for the way you could create an image with your hands.

Still, you enjoyed sitting down and drawing with your friends, or a little still-life in front of you for fun. You kept your serious work, and your most honest work in your photography.

You finished off the last of the wine in your glass, deciding to go grab some more. You excused yourself as you stood and head to grab the bottle that was still inside.

The presence of someone else in the room startled you, as you poured yourself another glass. “Didn’t know you did much drawing.” Harry’s voice was low as he passed his glass to you, wordlessly asking for more wine.

“Never asked,” you grinned at him, handing him back his glass as you took a sip of your own drink. Cheeks already warm from the wine, you felt them get even warmer as Harry’s gaze lingered on you. “Nothing big,” you continued after Harry remained silent. “Just drawing for fun.”

“Draw people?” His words were slightly slurred together, as he spoke quietly. He leaned on the counter next to you, close enough for you to feel the warmth coming from him. You silently wondered how much he had to drink, as he intensely held your gaze.

“Yeah,” voice sounding small, you cleared your throat before continuing. “Friends, nice views or photos that I take. Sometimes I like to draw people I see when I sit at a cafe.”

“You think you could draw me?”

Slightly taken aback by his words, the thought had never crossed your mind. “Yeah? Didn’t know you would want that.”

“Already taking so many pictures of me, why not some drawings as well?” He shrugged his shoulders, finally looking away from you as he glanced down at the glass in his hands, taking another sip, licking the wine off his lips.

You bit your lips together as his words, fighting a smile. “Can't get enough of yourself, can you?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s right, love.”

“We can tonight if you want?” Harry continued, watching your face for any sign to tell him that he was pushing his luck. “Draw, watch a movie or something, just the two of us,” he looked down to his hands again as he trailed off.

“I miss you.” The words came so softly from his lips, you almost missed them. They sent a rush through your body, as he met your gaze once again.

“Harry,” you couldn’t help the small laugh that pushed past your lips. “We spent all day together.”

“I know,” he drawled out his words. “But we’ll be leaving soon, and I won’t get to see you every day anymore. Want t’spend time with you.”

Biting your lip again at his words, as you fought the blush that was warming your neck. “So tonight, yeah?”

“Tonight.” You nodded, eyes soft, arm playfully bumping his before heading back to the balcony, Harry following not far behind.

You rejoined the group, listening to the conversation you had walked in on. Your eyes wandered over to Harry, finding him already watching you. Passing him a small smile, as you drank your wine and moved your gaze to the view around you. You couldn’t tell if Harry was acting different tonight, or maybe it was just the exhaustion from a relaxing day, mixed with a little too much wine.

Soon, everyone was heading back inside, finishing cleaning up and heading off to bed. Drowsy from a from a day in the sun, the wine not helping with heavy eyelids. After saying your goodnights, you headed to your room in the shared apartment.

Quickly changing, you put on your pyjama shorts and an oversized teeshirt, skin still warm as the night didn’t get very cold. Grabbing some pencils from your bag, and a large pad of paper that you did most of your sketching on, you headed down the hall and gave Harry’s door three quiet knocks.

His door swung open, eyes meeting yours. You took in his appearance, noticing he had also changed, wearing a pair of black shorts and nothing else. You walked past him and into his room, a small “hi” leaving your mouth as you willed your eyes not to linger on his bare chest next to you.

You stood in his dimly lit room, unsure of where to situate yourself. His room, like yours, was small, a bed in the middle of the room and a small desk a chair to the side of the room. Harry had his things sprawled out over the desk, and the floor for that matter, luggage poking out of the closet to your right. You moved to sit on the chair, before Harry called you over to where he had sat on the bed.

“Here’s fine.”

“You sure? Don’t want to get eraser shavings all over the sheets.” You smiled as he waved your comment off, patting the spot across from him. Making your way over to join him, you sat crossed legged across from him, sketchpad on your lap. You watched as he fiddled with his phone, as the first notes of a Mazzy Star song started playing.

Placing his phone next to him, he faced you. “How d’you want me?”

“Up to you, whatever is comfortable.” Opening up your sketchpad to a new page, grabbing the pencil resting next to you. “I’m gonna start with some fast and simple sketches, feel free to change poses whenever you want.”

Harry extended his legs across the mattress, feet just hanging over the edge as he rested his head in his hand. Laying on his side, he watched your eyes move along his figure in front of you.

“Haven’t done a drawing session like this in a while,” you murmured, as you began drawing rough shapes onto your page, eyes flicking up to Harry every once and a while.

“Not many offering to pose for you?” Harry’s voice was low, eyes watching your hands as they skilfully moved the pencil on the page.

“No, nothing like that,” letting out a breathy laugh, the thought of doing something like this not even occurring to you since you were a student. “Just never really considered it. Years ago, some friends and I would have nights where we would draw each other, and then I had to do some for class, but nothing since then.”

Harry hummed, curious about your days spent studying art. “Had to sit around some naked guy, while everyone drew him? Like in the movies?”

You laughed, knowing exactly the stereotypical movie scenes he was talking about. “Yeah, actually, I did have to do that.”

You saw Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, teasing at first but surprised he had been right. “Really? Fully nude?”

Nodding, you flipped over the pages in your sketchbook as you continued your quick sketches. “Usually had a couple days of life drawing like this, different models, always nude. Supposed to see how the body moves and all that.”

“Sounds hot,” you glanced up at Harry at his words, holding back a laugh.

“Not a lot of people getting hot and bothered in class drawing an old man, Harry.”

“Old man,” Harry exclaimed, dimples popping on his cheeks. “Very hot. Did you like school?”

Nodding, you matched his smile. “Yeah,” you stopped drawing, thinking about his question. “Yeah, I mean as much as it was tough, I still couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else.”

You watched Harry nod at your words, bottom lip between his teeth. “What about you? Ever think about what you would have continued to study?”

His eyes met yours, slow nod as he thought it over. “I mean, yeah, of course I’ve thought about it but,” he paused again. “Who knows what I would be doing. Like you said, where I am now, I couldn’t imagine myself doing something else.”

You smiled at his words, telling him you were going to start actually drawing him instead of just outlines and to try not to move too much. Harry continued to talk about aspirations he had when he was younger, what could have been if he had never become a musician. He chatted away, moving constantly but you never said anything, happy to listen to him.

One thing you loved about drawing people, especially people you knew, was that it always made you notice new things about them. You had spent enough time staring at him, and at his face, all those hours you’d spent editing pictures of him. But as you had him bare chested in front of you, you took your time to take in all the ways his muscles moved under his skin, off all the tattoos that covered his chest and arms.

You found it endearing really, the way he wanted to have art all over his body.

“Wan’ to move, that’s okay?” His voice broke you from your thoughts, looking up from the paper in front of you.

“‘Course,” voice low, as you admired the drawing you had started. Flipping the pad over to a new page, you waited until Harry stopped shuffling on the bed in front of you.

You were a bit taken aback when you looked up at Harry. He sat comfortably, back leaning against the backboard of the bed, legs pointed towards you. He faced you so directly, eyes concentrated on you. He had been facing you before, but it had been much more casual, as he rested his head in his head.

There was something just a bit more, intimidating, about the way he sat in front of you.

As you started another drawing, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You were putting extra attention into this drawing, it being a little easier as Harry wasn’t moving around as much as before.

About half an hour passed before Harry started mumbling about his back feeling sore, and you decided it was a good place to end, knowing that you could go on and on nitpicking over a sketch.

“Can I see?”

You don’t know why Harry’s question made you pause. Of course he would want to see the drawings you had done of him. Yet, you found yourself hesitating to show him. It just seemed like such an intimate moment, and the idea of sharing the drawings, even sharing them the person that you had been drawing, seemed like too much.

“I,” you paused, unsure of what to do or say. “Want finish some details on them. Show them to you soon, I promise.” The lie left your lips easily, mind easing as Harry nodded along.

“Perfectionist, yeah?” He smirked, nodding in understanding. “‘Course, love. We can do this again and you’ll show them to me later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, biting back a smile. You don’t know why, the idea of Harry wanting to have you draw him again made you so happy.

“Want t’watch a movie, stay the night here?” His voice was quiet, smirk wiped from his face as he spoke tentatively.

This time, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out. “Bridget Jones?” Ever since earlier that day as Harry recreated Hugh Grant’s actions on the boat from the movie, you had an itching to watch the whole film.

He nodded along, very pleased that you had agreed. Harry quickly headed to the washroom as you moved up the bed and slid in under the thin sheets, the night too hot to need anything warmer. Harry quickly joined, grabbing his laptop and finding the movie to put on for the two of you. Pressing play, he shifted closer to you, one arm swinging around your back and pulling you in to him.

“That’s you,” you muttered, pointing to the screen when Hugh Grant fell from his boat into the water, right down to the blue shirt.

Harry shifted next to you, gazing down at you with eyebrows shot up. “Wha’? I’m a much better guy than he is.”

You beamed up at him, eyes slightly squinting to see him clearly in the dim room. “That’s true,” pausing, glancing between Harry and the character on screen. “Better looking than him too.”

Harry’s grin widened at your words. “Glad to hear it love.”

Placing your head back against his chest, you hummed as Harry’s fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, his grip around you tightening.

***

Bare thighs hitting the hard material of the chair, you felt your dress ride up as you sat down around the table. Turning your head over your shoulder, you watched as Harry approached the table you guys had situated yourselves at, drinks in hand.

“Gin and tonic for you,” Harry sat down next to you, knee bumping yours as he slid your drink over to you. Sipping his own drink, he watched as you picked up the lime from the rim, squeezing it so the juices from the fresh fruit dripped into your cup. Bring the wedge up to your lips, biting through the juices that remained in the fruit, before putting what was left of the wedge into your glass.

Harry kept his eyes on your lips as you laughed at something Sarah said, as you tongue licked up the rest of the sour taste from your lips. Smiling to himself as he watched you repeat the same drink ritual for the hundredth time, as you seemed pleased with yourself after finally taking a sip.

“Can I try?” Your voice broke Harry out of his daze, as you pointed at the drink that he held. Passing his drink over to you, he chuckled to himself as you always asked to try what he was drinking. “You won’t like it.”

Placing the glass to your lips, you quickly pulled it away after getting a small taste. Lips curving in distaste, your expression proving him right. “Mine’s better.” You nodded, passing his glass back to him, leaving a mark of your lipstick on the rim.

You took another long sip of your drink, pleased with the way the cold liquid cooled you down, fingers wet from the condensation on the glass. Today the sun had been even hotter, leaving your skin warm and sticky after it set.

The group of you fell into conversation, discussing various aspects of your day and of your time in Italy. Everyone seemed to have had a good time relaxing on this mini-vacation, no one wanting to leave the bubble you had created.

“Have you figured out where you’re heading afterwards?” The question was directed at you, as you still had some time off after the shoot you had finished. The rest of them had to head to London, but you decided to take advantage of this much needed break.

“France,” you said, finishing off your drink. “Up to the mountains. Around the Alps. And then maybe the south for a couple days.”

You were looking forward to do some exploring on your own. Your work allowed you to travel, which was something you were beyond grateful for, but you rarely got the time to slow down and full explore the places you were in. You had been itching to come back to Italy and France, pleased that you finally could.

As conversation settled on places traveled to and where was wanted to visit next, you excused yourself to the washroom and to go grab another drink, not feeling the effect of your first drink yet. Fixing your lipstick and blotting the dewy skin on your face, you headed from the washroom to the bar, ready for another drink.

Using your albeit rough Italian skills, you got yourself another gin and tonic. You felt a bit silly, getting a drink that you could order anywhere in the world, in a country that had such great wine. But you told yourself that it was better to buy a bottle, rather than an expensive glass at a bar.

Waiting for your drink, and lost in your thoughts of which alcohol was the best bang for your buck, you failed to notice Harry come stand next to you at the bar. Hand sliding to the small of your back, lips hovering over your ear.

“Getting another drink?” His voice was low, but you could still clearly hear him over the loud space around you. “Choose one for me?”

Before you could say anything to Harry, your drink appeared in front of you. Leaning in to talk to the bartender again, ordering Harry the same drink that you had been drinking all night.

“You’re going t’have dreamy frenchmen hanging all over you in France.” He said as the two of you waited for his drink.

Breathy laugh coming from your mouth at his comment, you shook your head. “No way. I’m taking time for myself,” looking down at your drink, lime coating your fingers. “Just relaxing.”

“You gonna be okay by yourself?” Harry thanked the bartender, handing them some folded euros, eyes roaming back to yours.

“‘m a big girl, Harry.” You beamed, sipping your drink after adding your lime.

Humourless chuckle escaping his mouth, he nodded. “I know, I know. Just worry about you is all.”

You watched as Harry grabbed his lime wedge between his fingers, lifting it up to hold it in front of your mouth, silently telling you to take it between your teeth.

Obeying, you watched his smirk deepen as you grabbed the lime with your teeth. Thumb brushing against your lip as he pulled his hand away. He brought the same thumb to his own mouth, licking off any remaining juices from the sour fruit. Biting into the lime, you pulled the wedge out of your mouth, placing the slice into your own drink. You held his gaze, face feeling unbelievably hot.

“Are you worried?” You teased, going back to what you guys were talking about before your little lime induced staring contest. “Or jealous.”

Harry shook his head, breaking your gaze. His hand came back down to the small of your back, leading you away from the bar and back to where your table sat outside.

“Can’t it be a bit of both?” His tone was teasing, but as you rejoined your group and watched as Harry scooted his chair closer to yours, you wondered if there was truth to his words.

The night went on and the drinks flowed between your group, enjoying one of your last nights in Italy. As you sat back in your chair, watching the emptying streets around you, the sound of music and laughter being the only ones to fill your ears.

You also couldn’t help but feel hyperaware of every movement Harry made next to you. Every time his leg bumped yours under the table, every glance or smirk in your direction, every small nudge of his shoulder.

You were at a point in the night, and maybe your intoxication, where Harry’s leg fully rested against yours, his arm spread over the back of your chair. You tried not to overthink the act, knowing that it didn’t mean anything, that you shouldn’t think it meant anything. Harry often swung his arm around the back of a chair, regardless of who was sitting there. Still, you couldn’t help the heat wash over your body at the thought of Harry longing to be closer to you.

After yawns started to fall from your lips, unable to participate in conversation anymore, you were about to suggest heading back. Harry, using his remarkable talent to read your mind, offered to walk with you as the others all wanted to stay for another drink.

“You’re exhausted love, c’mon.” Harry stood from where he was sitting, waiting for you to do the same. You both said your goodbyes and goodnights to everyone, discussing your plans for breakfast the next morning, before walking back to the apartment building you were staying at.

Although well into the night, the thin fabric of your dress and the humid air was enough to keep you warm.

"Didn’t have to leave early with me.” You said, unsure if Harry had wanted to stay. “Told you Harry, I can handle myself.”

An ill-timed stumble on the cobblestones beneath your feet did not help you prove your point. Harry laughed at you, linking arms with you to keep you from stumbling further.

“Bit drunk, aren’t you?” He grinned at you, dimples deep on his cheeks. “No,” you giggled into his arm, the word a lie but you knew him well enough to know that he was slightly intoxicated as well.

“Right love,” he scoffed, “Guess you don’t need me to hold onto then?”

You watched as he detached himself from you, talking long strides as he moved away from you.

“Harry,” you drawled out, already missing his skin against yours. You watched your steps this time, not wanting to trip on the uneven stones of the road.

Harry stopped in his steps, watching you get closer to him. He laughed that loud laugh you loved to hear so much, holding out a hand for you to grab.

“Look pretty tonight,” Harry suddenly found his voice quiet, as he watched you approach him and placed your palm on his. He hadn’t been able to go without being close to you in some kind of way tonight, like your body was a magnet pulling him in.

He watched you, your features glowing softly in the dim light of the street. Hoping he wasn’t imagining what looked like a blush on your cheeks, he couldn’t stop himself as his free hand reached out under your chin.

You didn’t say anything to his compliment, no words being formed in your mouth as Harry brushed his thumb gently over your bottom lip, over the remains of your lipstick. “Lovely colour on you.”

Harry’s hand titled your head up slightly, other hand that was laced with yours tugging you closer.

“Thank you,” were the only two words you could muster at that moment, barely a whisper. “You always look pretty too, Harry.” You immediately wanted to cringe as you heard the words coming out of your mouth.

“Is that so, love.” Breath fanning over your face, that smirk reappeared on his face. “Always?”

You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice, and watched as his eyes dropped down to your lips, thumb nudging them again.

They lingered there for a moment, a moment far too long. The two of you were nearly flush against each other, one of your hands still laced together.

“Let’s head back, yeah?” Harry whispered as took a step back, letting go of your hand and re-linking your arms.

You didn’t say anything as you leaned into his arm, already overthinking the moment you had just shared. Part of you was beating yourself up for not being the one to make the first move. But the other part of you was terrified of what would happen, and needed him to be the one to make the first move.

If you had been tired before, you were exhausted by the time you made it back to the villa. Heading immediately to the washroom when you walked through the door, wanting nothing more than to wash off your make up and brush your teeth.

Leaving the washroom, you saw Harry waiting outside the door. “You want to,” he paused, as you stopped next to him. “Stay with me tonight? Don’t want t’sleep alone.”

You sucked your lips between your teeth, trying to bite back a smile as you faced him, nodding tentatively. Finding yourself unable to fight the smile on your face, you watched as his expression mirrored yours. “Gonna grab some water first.”

After forcing yourself to drink an entire glass, and refilling one to leave by the bed, you skipped past your room and made your way to Harry’s.

Placing your water on the bedside table, you glanced around his room. Grabbing a shirt from the chair where Harry had left some thrown across the back, you quickly pulled off your dress and bra to change into the shirt before Harry came back from the washroom.

Folding your clothes together and placing them next to your water, you slid under the sheets, happy to finally lay down.

Harry held his breath as he left the washroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you through the open door, peeling your dress from your skin. He tried to make the least noise as possible, knowing he should look away. He was still a bit drunk, and still playing the moment he had almost kissed you over and over in his head.

Your back was turned to him, and he could feel as blood rushed to his cock, as he saw you standing in only your blue underwear. Turning in his heels, he walked back into the washroom. Mentally talking himself down, he gripped the counter and shut his eyes praying he didn’t grow harder.

You were already drifting into sleep in Harry’s bed, eyes fluttering open as you felt him finally join you in bed. You felt the mattress dip as he shifted closer to you, watching him as you lay on your side.

“Have a good day?” Harry whispered to you, body shuffling to his side so he could lay directly across from you. “Yeah,” you nodded, voice at a whisper as well. “Really good day. Really good time on this trip, too.”

Harry grinned at your words, pleased to hear you were enjoying yourself. “Me too,” he whispered, hand sliding over to wrap around your waist. “C’mere.”

He pulled you closer, rolling to his back and brought his other arm around you, waiting for you to lift your head for it to rest under you. Accepting the warmth of his skin against yours, even in the heat of the room. Once settled, mumbled a small goodnight to him. You couldn’t help smiling at the way you fit next to him, the way he itched to lay closer to you.

You glanced up at Harry as he muttered your name, not having a chance to react as his head dipped down, lips pressing a chaste kiss right at the corner of your mouth. Your eyes widened, barely registering the small “night love” that he mumbled, before dropping his head back down to the pillow.

You held your breath as you tried to slow your beating heart, certain that he would be able to feel it. He must have wanted to kiss your cheek, you thought to yourself, calming yourself. He’s drunk, he’s tired.

***

Yours and Harry’s shoes shuffled on the stone steps that led up to your floor in the apartment you were staying in. Bags in hands that were hitting your legs as you walked up the steps, you were looking forward to something refreshing to drink along with a nice meal.

Everyone had split up today, having different ideas of what they wanted to do. Ever since your little rowboat adventure, both you and Harry had been itching to get to Isola San Giulio, the island that sat in the lake, not too far of from the mainland.

It had been another tranquil day, taking your sweet time to wander around the small island, cameras, both digital and film, at your hip. You often stopped Harry, telling him to stand in a certain spot as you took a few steps back to snap a shot of him, and taking extra special ones with your film camera.

Harry always pretended to be bothered by it, but you knew he wasn’t. He liked being your muse.

He would always grab at the camera, telling you that he wanted to get pictures of you as well, but was rarely able to pull the camera from your arm. Still though, he sometimes managed to get a few shots of you, showing you right after and telling you “pretty good, aren’t I? Got a knack for this, I think.”

Favourite thing were the deteriorating frescos that lined the walls of the basilica that sat in the middle, you want to take your time and admire every image. The day was just as warm, sun filtering through the island and leaving bits of golden yellow across the warm bricks.

After eventually coming back to the mainland, the two of you headed to a nearby market to pick up some vegetables, fresh pasta, and some wine. You let Harry do a lot of the talking with the local merchants, impressed with his growing Italian skills.

Placing the groceries in the kitchen, you stopped Harry once again as you reached for your camera. “Lights really nice right now,” you murmured, adjusting the shutter on your camera before pointing the lens at Harry. Soft yellow light as the sun would set in a couple hours, it shone around Harry as his back faced the peach coloured stone of the balcony.

He looked like a dream today. White teeshirt, that was simple but still fitted, tucked into some loose deep brown trousers. Dark blue silk scarf that was tied around his neck, you had once or twice untied it during the day, to tie around your own neck. “Look classy with an ascot,” you had said, as you admired your appearance with Harry’s scarf.

Harry had also admired you, liking the way it matched the rest of your outfit. You had been nearly exclusively wearing sundresses during your trip, today being no exception. Hem hitting the middle of your shins, the soft cream colour fabric jutted out from where it was tighter around your abdomen, small red and orange embroidered flowers trailing down the sides.

“Wine?” Harry’s voice pulled you back into reality, watching as he held up one of the bottles you had bought today. “Of course.” You beamed at him, placing your camera on the counter as you grabbed the vegetables from your cloth bag.

Starting to chop the courgettes, you hummed a quiet thank you to Harry as he passed you a wine glass. Glass hinting yours in a wordless cheers, you both sipped at the wine as you continued to make dinner.

Just over half an hour later, the two of you sat across from each other at the table on the balcony, enjoying your dinner and wine. Both very pleased with the result of your dish, chattering away as you finished up eating just as the sun started to set.

Harry sprang up, running inside before coming back out with your camera in hand.

“You’re glowing love,” he grinned, sitting back down before pointing the camera lens in your direction. The sun creating an orange glow all around, you hoped it hid your blush from his words. “Shift forward a bit.” He said to you, wanting until you listened.

He snapped a few pictures of you, grinning down at the camera as he checked them before passing it to you. “See? Beautiful. Need to let me take pictures of you more often.”

“Looks good Harry,” you smiled softly at his compliment.

The both of you stayed outside until the sun was fully set, passing the camera between each other and finishing the rest of the wine. It wasn’t until the bottle was finished that the two of you decided to head inside.

After clearing out you plates and dishes, Harry tugged at your arm as he urged you to draw him again. Easily agreeing, you couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness.

He sat himself down on the bed again, as you easily joined him with sketch book and pencils in hand. His eyes gleamed in the soft light of the lamp next to him, cheeks tinted red from the wine and wide grin on his face.

Repeating your actions from the night before, you started with small fast sketches of Harry as he lay with his legs sprawled towards you. He kept chattering away, again not doing his best at sitting still but it didn’t bother you at all.

Conversation slowing down between the pair of you, Harry rested his head against the wall behind him, eyes shutting softly. You might have thought that he was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the small comments he made once and a while, continuously asking if his pose was okay.

He shifted around a couple more times, settling on a pose with his back slouched against the pillows behind him, as you told him to try not to move for a bit longer. You found yourself working faster today, maybe it was the wine that made your movements a bit sloppier, or maybe it was the familiarity that you had established with his body.

Conversation coming to a stop as you sat in a comfortable silence, you concentrating on the drawing in front of you and Harry enjoying watching you draw. It wasn’t until a few songs had passed in the silence, before Harry spoke up again.

“You said you used to draw people naked?” Harry broke the silence, as you focused on the detail of his shoulder. You hummed, eyes flicking to his, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Think it would be better if I was naked?” He said, after a few seconds of silence. You felt heat rush to your face at his words, stopping your pencil on the page.

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” You said forcing a small laugh, willing yourself to look up at him.

“I'm serious, love. Said so yourself, you can really see how the body moves.” His voice was devoid from any humour, but as you met his eyes you say that familiar gleam in them.

He suddenly got up from the bed, shuffling over to where the desk was in the corner of the room. Your widening eyes followed him across the room, suddenly aware of how hot your cheeks were burning.

“Harry,” you started to say, as if a small warning. Yet as you heard your voice, it was barely above a whisper. “Only if you want to, love.”

Harry’s eyes searched yours, as he began to panic in your silence. Shit, what if he had pushed you too far? He didn’t want to scare you off, quite the opposite in fact. He watched as you slipped your lip between your teeth, seemingly thinking it over.

You knew that you should say no, that this was not something that you guys should do. The both of you had seen each other naked before, in quick glances of moments where you needed to change, or where you opened a door without knocking first.

But this was something very different. You already got a bit flustered around him, and you couldn’t help but overthink every time he was extra touchy with you. You knew that he was just that kind of person, and that he acted that way with a lot of people. But every time his leg rested against yours when he sat next to you, or his arm swung around your shoulders to hold you close, you felt like he wanted to be closer to you.

You knew that you should say no to him. That this wasn’t a good idea, that you were both a little tipsy on all that wine that was finished off, and that this could might not be a great idea. You never even really did this with your friends, you guys always posed clothed for each other.

Yet, you still found yourself giving him a nod, as you turned to face him.

Relief washed over Harry, as he heard the word “Yeah,” leave your lips in a hushed tone. “Yes,” you repeated a little louder, as you flipped to a fresh page to draw on.

Looking away from Harry, you again couldn’t help the blush that was creeping up your neck. What the hell were we doing.

You felt your mouth go dry when you looked back up at him. Shirt pulled off his shirt, and his trousers had been pushed down his legs, along with his briefs and pushed them to the side. Your eyes scanned his long legs, to his abdomen. You willed yourself not to stare too long at his newly exposed cock, but you couldn’t help but notice how long and thick he was; mind wandering as you imagined just how heavy he would feel in your hand, or mouth.

Harry couldn’t help the small smirk that played at his lips as he watched your eyes scan him. Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable, he quickly sat down on the chair facing you. “Sit however I want?” His voice broke the silence that had set in the room.

You nodded, trying to shake any dirty thought from your head as you shifted on the bed a bit, making yourself comfortable. “I’ll just do one I think, one pose for longer if that’s okay?” You finally managed to meet his gaze.

“’ Course.” He nodded, as he settled on a pose he was okay with staying in for a while, leaning back in the chair and crossing his bare legs. He didn’t mind sitting put in the slightest, loved watching you as you worked, as your eyes scanned his skin.

You silently began your work, soft music from Harry’s phone being the only sound in the room. There was faint noise coming from the city outside, but you felt like the two of you were in your own world up here. The two of you sat in silence, only once and a while making small conversation, or humming along to whatever song was playing.

You don’t know how long you sat and drew him, could’ve been half an hour, could’ve been two hours. You don’t think your cheeks ever stopped flushing, being so close and so intimate with Harry like this.

When you finally decided that you were done, you folded your sketchpad placing it next to you and let your shoulders drop with a sigh. “’ M done.” You told Harry, watching his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice.

His movements were slow, stiff from sitting in the same pose for so long. “Can I see? Haven’t shown me any drawings yet.” He moved up from the chair, and you couldn’t help your eyes drop down to his crotch again.

“I’ll put my pants back on I promise.”

You grinned up at him, feeling more at ease again after the initial awkwardness of when he had dropped trow in front of you.

“Yeah,” you grinned, oddly more at ease to show Harry your drawings now. You flipped through the book as he pulled his pants back on. You felt the mattress sink next to you as Harry sat down, leg against yours. You handed him the book, watching as he took in the sketches.

You observed his reactions as his eyes skimmed over each line, turning the pages. He stopped when he reached the more detailed sketches from earlier this night, from before he got naked. He spent the longest time looking at them, not flipping to the last one yet.

“These are beautiful,” his voice held a slight rasp, as he looked up at you.

“Narcissist.” You muttered, teasing him. “I’m serious,” he breathed out your name, along woth a humourless laugh. “They’re crazy detailed for the amount of time, but,” he trailed off, staring at them more intently. “I don’t know, you really just got me y’know?” He said, gazing back down to the drawing. “You just,” He trailed off again, not sure how to express what he was saying. “You captured me so well.”

Another blushed crept up your cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry. Really,” you smiled softly at him.

“’ Course love,” he smiled back. “You know I’m your biggest fan.” You trailed your eyes over his face, watching the way he smiled fondly at you, the way his dimple popped out, the way his eyes crinkled in his good humour.

Finally, as your gaze met his once more, you watched his eyelashes flutter, pupils wide and dark. Before you could even think of biding your goodnights, Harry’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Stay again tonight?”

You had to bite back the smile building on your lips.

You had already made up your mind at his question, of course wanting to spend another night in his arms. It was the look in his eyes, one you couldn’t quite place. His pupils dilated, as he looked up at you through lashes. “Please?”

“Of course,” you breathed out, almost wanting to reach forward and push his hair out of his face, but thought against it. “Want to change first, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Quietly walking to your room, you changed into your pyjama shorts and a loose tank top. Stopping by the washroom before heading back to Harry’s room, you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flush from the number of drinks that you had. Or maybe it was from being so close to Harry’s naked body for so long. Wiping your face down with cool water, you wiled the blush away before heading back to Harry.

He watched you walk back into his room, closing the door behind you. You smiled softly at him as he looked up to you. His eyes watched, his cock twitching in his shorts as your nipples noticeably press against the fabric of your shirt. Control yourself, he thought to himself. Harry knew he was already pushing his luck with you, especially keeping you here in his bed with him.

You noticed he had the sketchpad still resting on his lap, sitting yourself next to him and obeying as he motioned for you to shuffle in closer to you; only happy when your side was fully pressed against his.

“Drew something for you.” Harry’s voice rumbled in your ear.

You turned towards him, watching as he reached for the sketchpad that you had left. He flipped through it, finding the page he wanted to show you, tapping on the little mess of scribbles he wanted to show you. It was a small stick figure, with a few odd added features that you figured were meant to resemble you, with your name scribbled overtop.

“What’s that?” You breathed out, small giggle in your voice. You pointed to a small mess of lines next to your name. “What?” Harry laughed from next to you. “Its a heart!”

“Harry that does not look like heart.” Giggling as you glanced at him, watching his lips turn down to a pout. “Could be one,” he muttered, hint of a smile in his voice.

Harry flipped over the book on his lap, nude drawing of Harry in front of you. “This is seriously incredible,” he murmured, voice serious again. “Was it weird for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he paused, glancing from the drawing to you. “Was it weird, drawing me naked and all?”

You bit your lips together between your teeth, not knowing where he was going with this, and not knowing what to say.

“Because I didn’t think it was. ‘M comfortable with you, y’know?” He mumbled, eyes not leaving yours. You had to glance down, feeling heat rush to your face.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you whispered, eyes stuck on the drawing that you had just done of him.

“Las’ thing I wan’ to do is make you uncomfortable, love.”

“Harry, I’m not...” The words died in your throat.

As you turned your head to face the man next to you, your breathing felt like it had come to a stop. His face that was already turned towards you, was inches away from yours, noses nearly brushing.

You swallowed thickly, eyes flicking between his. His gaze was intense, eyes dark, a fact that you don’t think could be blamed on the wine anymore. You looked down to the sketchpad on both of your laps, as his hand smoothed over the paper until the tip of his fingers met yours.

“Harry...” You could barely hear your own voice as you spoke his name, heartbeat drumming in your ears.

“‘s just me, love,” his voice rasped in your ear, body shifting closer to yours as you watched his fingertips dance over your skin down on the paper in front of you. You could feel his nose brush over the top of your ear, lips only brushing on the skin over your jaw.

Not moving, you refused to look up at him. Maybe you wanted to prolong his begging or maybe you were too afraid to make the first move, it was probably a bit of both.

He muttered your name on top of your skin, breath hot on your neck. He wasn’t so much pressing kisses on your skin, as he was brushing his lips on you. “It’s just me.”

“Please, love.”

His voice was thick, tortured even.

Bottom lip lodging itself between your teeth, you looked up at him. His eyes were rapidly searching your face, breath mixing with your own.

Within the blink of an eye, his lips met yours.

Mouth so light against yours, he whispered your name. Tentatively giving you a kiss, a soft kiss, his other hand sliding behind your head. Fingertips lightly scratching into your scalp, letting out a small sigh as all he wanted was more of you.

A sigh left Harrys lips as he whispered your name over your mouth again, leaving small, hints of kisses against your own lips. A whine built in his throat, calling you to be closer to him. Lifting a hand up to his cheek, you scratched your fingertips against his skin as your lips rested barely a millimetre apart, breath mixing together.

Warmth rushed through your body as his lips finally fully slid over yours, hot and eager as he puckered his lips against your own in small kisses.

Mind void from any other thought or worry you had before, filled with nothing but Harry as he filled your senses. A small gasp made its way from the back of your throat as Harry’s tongue heatedly pushed past your lips mouth gladly opening for him. Harry grazed into your mouth, arm around you pulling you closer to him.

Kiss growing in fervour since the hesitant brushes of lips it had started as, Harry could hear nothing but his heartbeat loud in his ears, along with the series of soft exhales and gasps that were leaving your mouth. The same mouth that Harry longed to feel against his, the same mouth that was currently pressed eagerly against his.

“Christ,” Harry grunted, voice low as you tugged on his hair. “Thinking about this…” he muttered against your mouth, lips briefly leaving yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, moving down to your jaw and then neck. His mouth open, breath hot, making your spine tingle with every wet kiss on your skin. “Wanting this.” A sigh left your mouth as his teeth lightly nipped at the skin under your earlobe.

“Harry,” his name was a whine, pulling his attention away from your neck, as his eyes searched yours. Pupils wide, eyes dark and filled with desire, longing for you. His breath leaving his lips in small pants, chest rising against yours.

“Love, I –” He cut himself off, brow furrowing as he watched you intently, waiting for you to speak up again. You felt his hand on yours, still resting on the paper on both your laps, his fingertips grazing over your hand and moving up to hold your forearm.

“Harry,” you repeated, already feeling cold without his lips on yours, even as he sat almost completely pressed against you.

He watched as you freed your arm from his grasp, grabbing the pad of paper that had since been filled with drawings of Harry. He watched as you tossed it on the floor next to you. A long breath of air was pushed from his lips, his eyes remaining locked with yours.

He drew out your name, voice low, voice needy, as he followed your every movements. Shifting your body next to his, you lifted a leg over his lap, sitting yourself on his thighs as you straddled him. Free hand joining the other around his neck, you watched as a smirk tugged at his lips, eyebrows raising at you slightly. His expression had relaxed from a few seconds ago, when you had pulled away from him and he thought you were on the verge of running away. Instead he found himself even closer to you, chests pressed against each other, one hand gripping the nape of your neck and the other lacing around your waist as he kept you close.

“Want you too, Harry.”

A beat passed between the two of you, before your mouths molded together once again. Lips immediately hot against one another, Harry licking deep into your mouth as you returned his fervour. You felt his chest rumble with a moan against you, as your fingers tugged at his curls, loving the way it made him react against you.

His grip was tight on your waist, other hand moving away from your neck, gripping you wherever he could. You whimpered into his mouth as both hands found themselves over the curve of your ass, fingertips digging into your skin as it prompted you to shift your hips closer to his, heat rushing to your core as you rubbed over him.

“God love,” Harry groaned, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, before pulling away from you to catch his breath. “You are…” his lips immediately found your skin again, grazing the skin under your jaw. “God I’ve dreamt about this.”

His voice was a whisper, a deep, raspy whisper that somehow made you radiate with even more heat against him.

His mouth moved over your collarbone, meeting the strap of your tank top, gripping it with his teeth as he moved it to the side and over your shoulder. One of his hands tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down just enough to expose the top of your breasts. Lips following the curve of your chest, sucking and nipping the skin that had been newly exposed to him.

You moved one of your hands away from the back of his head, open palm smoothing his exposed chest. The room was hot, the air between the two of you searing hot, but somehow Harry found himself shivering as your nails gently trailed down his chest.

Hips inadvertently rolling over Harry’s as his large hand still gripped your ass, you could feel the heat radiating off him, could feel him grow harder underneath the thin layers of fabric that separated the two of you. Hand guiding your hips to repeat the action, Harry groaned against your skin, lips finding yours once again.

Hand trailing up under your shirt, calloused fingers stopping by your ribs. The whine into his mouth as he pressed hot, sloppy kisses onto your lips, was the only urge he needed to grab your breast in his hand, tugging at your nipple between his index and thumb. Back arching at his action, pressing your chest against his hand as you craved more of his touch.

“Can feel you,” you panted, voice nearly incoherent as you trailed your mouth away from his. Tongue gliding over the skin of his neck, you caught the skin under his jaw between your teeth. “Can feel you everywhere.”

Pulling away from his neck, you tugged at his hair, watched as his eyelids fluttered open. The sight of you before him was enough for him to let out a low moan. Your lips red and puffed, eyes glazed over, tank top falling off of your shoulders.

Harry’s appearance matched yours, hair tousled, his eyes gazing at you zealously. “Can I,” he rasped, fingertips trailing over your waist. “Can I touch you.” His words were almost more of a demand rather than a question but he still didn’t move, waiting for your answer.

You quickly nodded, not trusting your voice to be coherent. He leaned in again, mouth over the shell of your ear. “Gotta tell me love.”

Clearing your throat, your voice sounding hazy as you muttered into the air. “Want you,” Harry pulled his mouth away, gaze meeting yours again.

“Thought about yours fingers on me, want them.”

His mouth hanging open for a second, before scurrying a hand around the band of your pyjama shorts. Fingers trailing under the waistband, you breathed out his name as he fingers moved slowly, barely brushing over your skin.

“Harry,” you groaned, rutting your hips forward, feeling yourself absolutely throbbing for him.

You watched his face, watched a grin line his lips as he watched you writhe on top of him. He loved watching you like this, knowing he would never be able to get over seeing you on top of him, pleading for you. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, love,” he rasped. “Tell me what you’ve thought about; thought about me doing to you.”

Another whine was heard from your mouth, knowing he was loving having you so powerless to him, even as you sat on top of him.

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips before agreeing to what he wanted. “I – I’ve thought about your fingers, on my clit.”

You gasped as soon as you spoke, feeling his index finger press through your folds until it met your clit. He rubbed light, slow circles on it, before stopping to urge you on. “Then what?”

“I thought – I want you to feel how wet I am.” Your lips moved towards his skin again, sucking softly as you made yourself down his neck and flattened both hands over his chest.

“Jesus fuck,” Harry groaned your name, finger pushing itself through your wetness. His palm flattened against you, moving slick finger back to your clit. “So wet, dripping for me, hm?”

Your answer was a moan, rejoicing as he applied pressure on your clit once again. “For you…” You mumbled circling your hips on Harry’s hand as he rubbed slow, hard circles on your clit.

“All f’me,” Harry muttered to himself, quietly, repeatedly, as if he couldn’t believe it.

And truthfully, he couldn’t believe. So many times, he pulled his eyes away from you, not wanting you to notice him staring at you. So many times, he thought about you as he held his cock in his hand, your name lacing his moans. So many times, he held you close any chance he got.

Now here he sat with you situated yourself on top of him, lips hungrily nipping at his skin; his hands down your shorts as you impatiently moaned for him.

His movements on your clit speeding up, your kisses getting sloppier as whimpers fell freely from you mouth. Suddenly stopping, his voice above you pulling your attention away from his chest and back to his face.

“What next, love?”

“In me,” the words left your mouth in a rush. “Want your fingers inside of me.”

He followed your words, middle finger sliding down your folds, slowly pushing into you. Watching you react to him, he smirked as your eyes fluttered closed, sucking your lips in between your teeth.

“Like that?” His finger pumped slowly inside of you, curling roughly in a way that made you collapse your chest against his.

“Yes,” you breathed out, feeling him find a pace, as his thumb moved up to press small circles on your clit. You pressed yourself against him, circling your hips on his finger as you craved more of him. You could feel him hard under you, the thought of him hot and heavy making you clench around his finger. “More,” the word was strangled, as you panted on top of him.

Harry soon slipped in another finger, stretching you wider. You loved the way he felt inside of you, moan slipping past your lips at the thought of how his cock would fill you. The image of him bare in front of you earlier on that night flashed through your mind, imagining how he would look now, full and hard for you.

You felt the building of an orgasm in the pit of your stomach, heat rushing through your body. Harry’s pace on your clit increased, feeling you clench around his fingers.

“’ m close.” You moaned, although Harry already knew. He watched as you clung to him, nails digging into his bare chest. Your breath was heavy, small whines building in the back of your throat, and you tried to bite back your moans, mostly unsuccessful in doing so.

He pushed his fingers deep inside of you, curling them and hitting that spot that made you gasp his name. “Harry I –” you warned, unable to hold back your climax.

“Go ahead,” his lips neared your ear, urging you on. “Want you to come for me.”

You pulled your head from his chest at his words, meet his gaze. Harry reveled in the way your eyes were glazed over in desire, cheeks red as he moved to push you over the edge.

Your lips slotting against his, you left lazy kisses on his mouth before feeling your jaw go slack. Orgasm coursing through you, you stilled your hips, feeling yourself clench around his fingers. Nails digging into his chest, lip biting down onto his bottom one, you tried to stifle the moan that had been building, released from your throat as Harry made you cum.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he watched as your tried to regain your breath, grip loosening on him as you detached yourself from him. Harry pulled his hand from your shorts, watching his fingers coated with your arousal. Your eyes followed his hand as he moved his fingers into his mouth, moan rumbling from his chest as he tasted you.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, wet fingers gripping at your thigh. He leaned in, kissing you slowly, deeply. You hummed against his mouth, as if returning his comment. You trailed your hands down over his shorts as you kissed him, palm sliding over his covered cock.

You trailed your hands down over his shorts as you kissed him, palm sliding his covered cock. You felt him jerk against you, lips pulling away from yours for a second.

“I – don’t worry about me love,” Harry murmured, hand rising to cup your face. “I mean, we don’t have to keep going.”

You smiled up at him, moving in to press a small kiss to his lips. His concern over you comfort moved you, but you did want to keep going.

“Want to though,” you said as you pulled away from his mouth. Smile on your lips, words slow as you spoke them. “Want to have you inside of me.”

Harry’s mouth hung open for a second, your name rumbling in the back of his throat. His ears were ringing, all his focus set on you in front of him.

“I…” hands brushing along the skin on his waist, needing to remind himself that this was really happening, that you were really sitting here with him, asking him to fuck you.

“If you want,” you quickly added.

“You,” he pressed chaste kisses along your cheek, until his lips met you ear. “You want me to fuck you?” His words were slow, drawing out every word, leaving goosebumps down your neck.

“Yeah,” you sighed into the air, wanting so badly to feel him closer to you.

“Harry I – I want you to fuck me. Please.”

His fingers dug into the hips at your words. “Such a dirty mouth,” he gulped, inhaling sharply.

He kissed you, desperate and hard against you. “Take this off,” pulling at the hem of the thin tank top barely covering your chest, wanting to feel you completely against him.

Obeying, you broke apart from him for a beat to tug the shirt over your head, throwing it to the side. His eyes immediately dropping down to your newly exposed chest, hands sliding up your ribs to grab at the swell of your breasts.

Head dipping down, lips leaving kisses down your skin, sucking softly. You hummed appreciatively when his lips circled around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. His hand grabbed at your other breast, massaging and tugging at the skin.

Your own hands scrapped over the band of his shorts, fingers dipping past the waistband of his briefs, flattening your palm over his bulge, hand wrapping around him. You remembered the way he looked naked in front of you, thinking that he would feel thick and heavy in your hand. And you were right.

He felt even bigger in your palm, hips bucking into your hand. Moving your hand down his shaft, thumb rubbing over his tip collecting the bit of precum that had gathered. He mumbled your name, pulling his head away from your chest as your other hand tugged at his hair.

You moved down his lap a bit, shifting away from him enough to pull his shorts and briefs down his thighs, shifting for him to kick them off and to the floor next to you.

Your mouth gaped open, watching as his cock laid thick and hard against his abdomen. He smirked at you, watching as you were unable to pull your eyes away from him.

Staring unashamedly as your hands reached forward to wrap around him once again.

“Earlier,” Harry groaned, hips bucking into your hand. “Took everything I had to not get hard, when you were drawing me.”

You hummed at his words, pleased to hear you weren’t the only one thinking of lunging on the other, when he sat naked for you as you drew him. He watched as you lifted yourself on your knees, fingers pushing on your shorts as you tugged them over your hips, hooking each leg out of them as they joined the clothes on the floor.

“Fuck I…” Harry groaned, eyes scanning your bare body. “I don’t have a condom.” He met your eyes, sudden panic filling him. “ ‘m clean I swear, I would never…”

You nodded, cutting off his rambling. “Me too,” right now wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. “Clean, I mean. ‘M on the pill too.” Words barely a whisper as they left your lips, voice hoarse. “Harry please, want you in me.”

You shuffled closer to him on his lap, raising your hips so your folds slid over his cock. He pressed a long heavy kiss to your lips, muttering against your mouth.

“Christ love, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

A hand placed over yours, he gripped the base of his cock, as his other hand held your hips against him. Moving your hands to his shoulders to hold yourself, as you slowly sank down around his length.

The two of you let out shaky breaths, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you felt him fill you. You paused, not used to his size. “You okay?” He muttered onto your temple, waiting for you to move against him.

Lifting your head, you nodded weakly, slowly circling your hips over him. One of his hands moved to grip your ass, as the other held tightly to your waist. He was pressed tightly against you, skin hitting yours as your chest quickly rose and fell.

“So full,” you choked out, watery eyes meeting his. Harry felt his cock twitch inside of you, seeing you completely falling apart on top of him.

“S’okay, love.” He murmured softly, head dipping down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Take your time.”

You lifted your hips on his, moving on him in slow, hot movements. Your head burying back into the crook of his neck. You could feel him everywhere, skin completely flush against yours. He was so deep inside of you, hitting deliciously in all the right places.

You set a slow pace, feeling him rub everywhere inside of you. Harry’s hips pushed into yours as he moved with you, trying to stop himself from roughly thrusting into you.

Harry loved the sound of the pants, laced with small whines as they left your throat. He wanted to hear nothing but that, along with the way you called his name as you felt him everywhere inside of you.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he grunted into your ear, lips kissing and teeth tugging at your skin. “Taking me in so good.”

Hips rocking over his, you tried to speed up your pace, wanting to feel him tight against you. “Harry,” your throat rasped, voice strangled as you spoke his name, fingers tugging at his shoulders.

“Harry,” you said louder, tugging tightly at his hair. “More,” was the only word you were capable of forming, hoping he could understand your strangled words. “Want more.”

Gripping your thighs tightly, Harry gave no warning before rolling you over. You suddenly found him flush on top of you, hair dangling in your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. Large palm hooking itself under your knee, pulling your leg up as he urged you to hook up legs tightly around his waist.

He groaned at the contact, feeling himself even deeper inside of you. “Good?” He asked, checking with you before moving.

Muffled moan being heard from you as you quickly nodded, wanting him so desperately to move.

Moving his hips on yours, his hips snapped back against yours in short rough thrusts into you. You clenched around him at the new contact, eliciting your name to fall from Harry’s mouth in a short strangled cry.

“Don’ fucking do that,” he said, voice clipped and pausing for a second, before continuing his deep thrusts into you. “Wanna las’ for you.”

He continued his momentum over you, as you arched yourself to be closer to him, fingers digging into the skin on his back. Only sounds to be heard were of skin against skin, and with breathless heaves mixed with the moaning of names, and the panting of curses and calling to gods.

His hands were everywhere on you, palming over your breasts, your thighs, your hips. His fingers dug into the skin of your ass, pushing you up to meet his skin, your back arching as you whimpered at his pressure.

Harry bowed his head, looking down where his hips connected to yours. He found it so incredibly hot, as he watched himself sink in and out of you. His name was falling freely from your mouth, calls getting louder, spurring him on. He wanted nothing other than to watch you unravel for him again.

“Fuck Ha –” you whined. “Harry more, more.” Small tears forming in the corner of your eyes once again, getting caught in your eyelashes as you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt your second orgasm building in you, unable to hold back. You moaned especially loudly as you felt a hand snake in between of your bodies, long finger dragging onto your clit, pressing, rubbing at it deeply.

“Tha’ s it love,” he mumbled, watching you grow more frantic under him. Head ducking down again, this time to connect his lips to the skin your chest, biting as he urged you on. “You desperate?” He continued. “Want me to fuck you hard? Want to cum around me?”

You were overwhelmed with sensation, having him fill you so tightly, his finger rubbing on your incredibly sensitive clit, his hair tickling your jaw and his mouth licking and biting at your skin.

So completely overwhelmed with the bubbling climax in the pit of your stomach, your gripped onto Harry so tightly you were sure to draw blood under your nails.

“Go on love,” Harry urged softly, the grin evident in his words. Your eyes were squeezed shut, teeth digging into your lips as you tried to stifle the moans of his name.

The combination of Harry hitting the same spot repeatedly inside of you, your senses filled him. The hot heat from his skin, his voice in your ears, his cologne. It was all too much for you, as you felt him push you towards your climax.

“Harry,” falling apart under him, you writhed as you held him close to you, walls clenching around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, pace slowing down as his felt himself start to twitch inside of you. Your thighs squeezed him tight, ankles hooking behind him as you thrust your hips up into his. Arms were wrapped tightly around him, nails dragging into his skin. You felt dizzy, eyes squeezed shut as you couldn’t help yourself from crying out.

Slowly, starting to calm down from your climax, Harry watched as you opened watery eyes, gazing up at him with nothing but lust. Sense of satisfaction filling his head as he moved to kiss the corners of your eyes, wiping away the small tears that spilled over.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned your name, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last for much longer. “You’re unbelievable.”

He kissed his way down your face, his lips buried in the crook of your neck as you quietly urged him on, voice hoarse as you wanted him to finish inside of you.

“Cum f’me,” you rasped, eyes lazily gazing down at him, moving a hand up to brush through his hair.

Pressure unbearable for Harry, he halted on top of you, only movement being of his hips grinding tightly on yours as he fell off the brink. You could feel him pulse, hot bursts as he came inside of you. His teeth dug into your shoulder, your name hot on his lips as he let out heavy pants. He praised you endlessly, words nonsensical as they spilled out of his mouth. He was a mess.

Eventually lifting his head, eyes hazy as he grinned down at you and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Staying like that for a moment, neither of you moving as you lay tight against each other. Shaky arms pushing himself up, he pulled himself out of you, and rolled over to his side.

“Le’ me get you cleaned up.” He mumbled, eyes trailing over you as he watched the mess he created at the corner of your thighs.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, rising on the bed. You turned to the edge of the bed, legs wobblily as you situated yourself on your feet.

“Coming right back, yeah?” Suddenly worried that you might already regret what the two of you just did.

“‘Course,” you giggled, before shuffling out of the room and into the washroom. After peeing and cleaning yourself up the best you could, you caught a glance of your reflection in the mirror.

You had sex written all over your features. Lips dark and swollen, eyes hazy and hair a mess. Marks on your breasts from where Harry had sucked, already turning purple.

About to leave the washroom, you paused in your steps. You could hear the rest of the group, you could hear the key slid into the lock. As quietly as you could, you ran from the washroom to Harry’s room, quickly closing the door behind you.

Turning around, you saw Harry lounging back on the bed, pair of briefs now covering his hips. He had tossed the sheet on the floor, replacing it with a new one you assumed he had grabbed from your own bed.

You scurried over to grab your discarded clothes on the floor, looking up as Harry made a sound of protest. “Want you to wear my clothes,” he said, pointing up to where he had set some of his own clothes for you to wear.

You grinned at him, bringing your finger to your mouth in a shushing motion, trying to tell him the others had come home, thinking it was probably best that they thought you were asleep instead of naked together.

Pulling the boxers and shirt on, you quickly shut off the lights in the room and slid on the bed next to him. “They’re home,” you whispered, accepting his arm that pulled you closer to him.

He didn’t say anything to that, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?” He said instead, trying to read what you were thinking about what just happened.

“Yeah,” you mumbled against him, small nod of your head as you couldn’t help your grin at his concern for you. “Tired.”

“That was,” Harry’s chest resonated under your head as he spoke. “That was unbelievable, yeah?”

You could feel him watching you, unmoving. You lifted your head, eyes meeting his. “Yeah, it was.” Your voice was shaky with a laugh, still in a daze.

You felt him sigh against you, body relaxing with yours as you settled your head back against his chest. “Good,” he muttered, so quietly you nearly missed it, before you drifted off to sleep.

***

Harry woke up before you.

His arms were still wrapped around you, bodies flush together, sunlight filling the room.

His left arm felt a bit numb, as it rested underneath your head, but he didn’t mind. The two of you had fallen asleep almost immediately the night before, as soon as you rested your head on his chest you had dozed off, Harry following quickly as he watched your chest rhythmically rise and fall.

He hadn’t had time to properly reflect on the time you guys had together the night before, the time you guys spent with hot lips and wandering hands. Harry had thought about sex with you before, more than he’d like to admit. But the one thing he never really got around to thinking about, was what would happen afterwards.

Not wanting to move around too much to wake you up, he lifted his head up to glance around the room. Clothes were scattered around the floor, along with the sketchbook that was thrown aside when you had moved to sit on his lap.

Head hitting the pillow once again, he tugged you closer to him as he replayed the events on the night before over and over again in his head. For as long as Harry thought about it, dreamt about it, nothing compared to the reality. The way you had gasped, whimpered and whined for him, the way you had clung to him so tightly. The way you had fit so perfectly with him. Harry couldn’t believe it.

Just as Harry thought about what to say to you when you woke up, you stirred in his arms. He froze, trying to slow his heartbeat down and maybe pretend he had just woken up as well.

He didn’t know why he was so stressed all of the sudden, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe you would slide out of his arms and pretend like nothing ever happened. He watched as you rolled onto your back, Harry’s arm sliding across your stomach as you moved.

Your eyes were still shut, and for a second Harry thought you were still asleep.

“Can feel you watching me,” your voice suddenly broke him out of his daze.

Not being able to help the grin breaking out on his face, he didn’t try to hide the fact that you had caught him. He hummed, now that you were awake finding the chance to move his arm from under you. “M’ arms numb.”

You felt his arm wiggle out from under your head, shaking it out when it was free. He rolled over onto his side, still facing you and making sure to keep his other arm wrapped over your waist.

“Sleep well?” Harry watched as you rolled over onto your side, facing him.

“Yeah,” he spoke lowly, voice still raspy from sleep. “Real well.” He watched the gleam in your eyes as you returned his smile, nodding.

“I’m bummed you’re leaving tonight,” he muttered, fingertips gliding under the loose shirt that hung around you, thumb rubbing circles on the skin of you hip.

“You’re leaving too,” your eyebrows shot up, voice soft but tone loud.

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice drawled the word out, bottom lip between his teeth as he bit back a smile. “But we’re headin’ different ways. Not goin’ to see you for a bit.”

“Won’t be that long.” You grinned up at him, although sharing the sentiment. “I should shower,” you mumbled, shooting Harry a grin before turning over in the bed to then roll off, standing to your feet. Harry watched as the sun filtering through the window hit you, he couldn’t help but admire the way it made you glow.

You shuffled on your feet, legs the tiniest bit unstable, as you reached for your scattered clothes on the floor. “Should get some pastries for breakfast, yeah?” Harry’s voice pulled your attention back to him.

“Definitely,” you beamed at him, pausing before opening his door as you listened for anyone else being out.

“Y’look good in my shirt, love.” Harry spoke once more from behind you. Smile widening, you sent him what you hope was a subtle wink, before slipping out of his room and heading to the washroom.

Harry sank back down into the mattress as the door closed behind you, hands running over his face. Fucking hell, he thought to himself. The smell of your perfume still overwhelmed his senses, surrounding him and the sheets around him.

“Christ,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your appearance in the mirror. Red and purple marks along your breasts from where Harry had bit and sucked, you were glad they were just low enough to be concealed by clothing.

Stepping into the shower, your mind played the events from the night before over and over again. Remembering the ways his hands hand trailed all over your body, gripping and pulling at you. Biting your lip as you recalled everything, he had muttered to you, how much he told you he wanted you, and how much you had returned the sentiment.

After all these years of knowing each other, all the subtle glances at each other, all the lingering grabs and wandering hands, this had felt right.

You quite frankly don’t know why it had taken so long. You kicked yourself a bit for not making a move sooner, but you knew that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be the one to initiate anything. You also knew that Harry probably took so long to make a move because you gave unclear signs, but that was neither here nor there.

Deciding to push any worries out of your mind for now, thinking that it would be best to deal with it when the time comes. Instead, you got ready for the day after your shower.

Pulling on a floral sundress, you kept Harry’s shirt in your room, knowing that you could get away with taking it from him before you guys parted ways.

Harry was true to his word, and had headed out to grab some delicacies for breakfast. Everyone out and ready to eat, you joined them at the table that sat in the sun on the balcony.

As you sat around the small table, you and Harry sharing looks, knees bumping. Harry reveled at how normal everything felt. There was no awkwardness, nothing felt weird or uncomfortable. You weren’t avoiding him, or acting strange around him.

Although it being a good thing that neither of you were uncomfortable, Harry realized that there had been basically no mention of the night spent together. Although the very rational thought that it had been mere hours since the two of you had slept together, only being awake for a couple of those hours.

Everything about that was extremely rational, but Harry still wanted to say something, anything to just bring it to air. He didn’t want you guys to bury the night into nothing, into something that you would once and a while remember but never say thing about.

“You got a hickey on your tit.”

That’ll do it.

Figuring the opportunity would present itself as you headed to the kitchen to grab some more peaches, Harry had followed. He wordlessly watched as you bent over to grab the little produce bag across the counter, his eyes dropping down to low cut of your dress where he noticed the little marks he left on your skin the night before.

Shooting up at his quiet words, you felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked down, both hopping to hide the blush and to fix the neckline of your dress, so that the top of your breasts were covered.

“Looks good on you,” he mumbled quickly after, after you didn’t say anything.

“Stop that.” You muttered, knowing your cheeks were glowing red as you thought back to a mere twelve hours ago when Harry had his mouth sucking on the skin on your breast. Harry couldn’t help the smirk that dawned on his lips, watching you flush as he reminded you of the feeling on his lips on your skin.

“Seemed to like it.”

Harry watched as you grabbed a bowl for the fruit, holding it against you before stepping past him. “Why do you think I wore such a low cut dress today?”

***

Two bottles of prosecco had been shared in the early afternoon, a last little celebration of sorts before the realization that everyone had to pack. It had been such a nice afternoon, almost a perfect ending to the time you guys had spent here in Italy.

Almost.

Harry was dying to get you alone.

Pacing around his room for a second as he was itching to storm down your door. Why hadn’t he kissed you.

During a morning of quiet glances, teasing smiles and light touches, Harry had been so focused on trying to talk to you, or show that everything would be okay, that he never found the opportunity to kiss you. He was supposed to be packing up his things, or at least starting to pack up, but he couldn’t stop thinking

The next time Harry would see you would be in a rushed goodbye, before you head over to the train station. After that, who knows when the next time you will see each other. Realistically, it wouldn’t be that long. But the way it stood right now, both yours and Harry’s schedule were so erratic there was really no telling.

The sketchpad on the floor caught his eye. You hadn’t retrieved it from last night, and it still sat on the floor where you had tossed it. Quickly grabbing it, he walked down the hall to knock at your door.

As the door opened, Harry suddenly felt breathless.

“Hey,” he exhaled. “You forgot this.”

Walking into your room as you stepped aside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He didn’t know why it felt so intimate, standing together in a closed room, but as soon as the door clicked closed, he felt his cheeks warm.

He glanced around your room, seeing that you hadn’t gotten that far in your packing either.

“I uh,” Harry stumbled over his words as you remained fairly quiet, grabbing the sketchpad from his hands. “I hate packing.” He grinned, happy to see your shoulders shake with a laugh as you agreed, sliding onto your bed.

“Me too,” you scoffed, not even wanting to be faced with everything you had to shove back into your bag. “Plus, prosecco’s making me sleepy.”

Harry tentatively sat next to you, watching as you flipped through the pages of your sketches. “You should keep the drawings of you.” You mumbled, starting to tear the pages out. “If you want.”

“You gotta keep this last one,” Harry’s voice was a quiet, as he watched you flip to the last drawing you had done of him, probably no less than twenty-four hours ago when he sat naked in front of you.

You didn’t miss the smug smirk that grew on his lips, as he glanced between you and the drawing that sat in front of you.

“And what do you suppose I do with it?”

“I’ll leave that up to you love.”

His eyes lingered as neither of you spoke for a moment too long. You jumped up suddenly, moving back towards the door as you knew you could easily be swayed to have Harry stay in your room.

“I should pack,” your voice coming out quieter than intended. Harry slowly rose from the bed, watching your turn to reach for the doorknob to usher him out of your room.

“Oh …!”

His hand came to grip your elbow, catching you by surprise as he pulled you closer until your body faced his.

Your eyes catching the gleam in Harry’s eyes as he puled you closer to him. “What are you…?” You watched as he shushed you, hand sliding down your arm until it gently held your own. You slightly fell back to lean against the wall behind you, hand remaining intertwined with Harry’s but just slightly moving back from him.

“Still wearing m’ shirt.” Was all he mumbled to you, as you glanced down to the shirt covering your body. It was the shirt Harry had put out for you last night as you crawled back into bed with him, shirt you had pulled on today as you went to pack up your clothes.

“Oh,” was all you could say, meeting his gaze again, expression unreadable. “I – I’ll get it back to your before I go.”

Eyes holding his, you watched with some relief as a grin dawned on his lips. “Love,” he drawled out, hands reaching back out to you, grabbing hold of your arms, fingertips trailing down your skin until his hands clasped with yours.

“As much as I’d like you to take your shirt off for me right now,” his smirk deepened, dimple on his cheek, tugging you to him. “Keep it.”

“Harry,” his name was a whisper from your lips, trying to bite back your growing smile.

“Just wanted,” he mumbled, instinctively licking his lips. One of his hands let go of yours, sliding around to the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as he moved in closer to you, mouth suddenly on yours. You leaned in against him, hand reaching up to his jaw. He kissed you slowly, tongue smoothing against yours as he gripped into the fabric of his shirt that hung off your back. Your body was completely embracing his, responding and returning his every movement.

His kisses were slow and hot, drawing you in for more the longer you went on. They were different from yesterday, not as urgent but just as fervent. He left you completely breathless as he pulled away for a moment, face staying inches away form yours.

“Just wanted a taste,” he rasped, hand squeezing your hip. “Kicking myself for not kissing you all day.”

“Needed an excuse to come on over, just to kiss me?” You giggled, still slightly breathless.

“Well,” he grinned, hands resting just under your shirt as his thumbs rubbed small circles onto the skin of your hips. “Didn’t want to just barge into your room, not very gentlemanly.”

“I uh,” he paused, not giving you a chance to say anything. “I’m really gonna miss you.” Your expression softened at his words, cheeks warming up. “Going to miss you too Harry.”

“Meant what I said las’ night, too.” He hummed, as every dirty thing he muttered to you flashed through your mind. “Wanted you – wanting you,” he quickly corrected himself. “I – I think about you all the time, love.”

Cheeks warming even more, you thought over his words. “You don’t have to say anything,” he added. “I just,” he pulled his lips between his teeth for a moment. “Jus’ needed to say something.”

“Harry… don’t worry about it,” you whispered, voice soft as his words made you smile. “I, uh, I meant what I said last night too.” You spoke quietly, almost unsure of yourself.

A smirk returned to Harry’s lips. “What exactly? Said a lot last night, love.” Memories of you begging, and whining for him rang through his ears. He watched you take your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitating before speaking.

“About – everything.” You breathed out, not trusting yourself to say too much. A beat of silence passed between the two of you.

“I should really pack. I leave in nearly an hour.” You mumbled, knowing that if you didn’t say anything he might end up in the bed with you.

“Wait!” Harry said, voice louder as he stopped you from leaving. “Humour me love,” he paused, beaming at you. “What exactly from what you said last night?”

“Need a good ego stroke that’s it?” You grinned, shaking your head at him.

“C’mon love,” he grinned down at you as you shuffled closer to him, chest pressing against his as you glanced up at him. “Bore my soul to you, least you can do no?”

You perched your head up, lips nearing his ear. “Well,” you paused, lips brushing over the skin of his jaw. “Meant what I said about thinking about you,” pausing, you moved closer to his ear, voice dropping. “Filling me, making me cum.”

Harry visibly gulped; eyes intense on you. “You are,” he paused, leaning forward as his mouth chased yours. “Incredible.” The word was muffled as his mouth found yours. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding on your skin, under your shirt, until it met the small of your back again.

Harry kissed you heavily once again, mouth hot, silently calling you closer to him. “Jus’ one more, yeah?” He mumbled; voice low as he only pulled away for a second.

Just as he said, pushed himself close against you and left one long, deep, kiss to your mouth.

He brought a hand up to your cheek, holding your face still, holding your gaze. “So incredible, y’know that?”

“Think you mentioned that.” You grinned, already missing his mouth on yours.

“Got to tell you again,” he mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth. “Consider this a going away present.”

Harry gave your hand one more squeeze, before reaching for the doorknob. You couldn’t stop the smile still tugging at the corner of your lips, the feeling of Harry’s mouth still on yours.

You were glad to know that the both of you were seemingly on the same page, both attracted to the other. Part of you knew that nothing was really clear with you guys, that both of you had said that ‘nothing would change’, but that was something to worry about later.

For now, you reveled in the way his lips moved with yours, the way his hands tugged you closer to him.

Rushing through your packing, as you felt yourself stuck in a daze. Part from a sudden hit of exhaustion, part from the effect Harry had left. You told yourself that you would sleep on the train, the ride being longer than it needed as it passed through Switzerland and made multiple stops before you reached your destination.

Finalizing everything that needed to get packed up, you headed over to the kitchen to grab some food for the ride. You had bought some extra pastries and fruits for yourself yesterday, knowing you would want to eat during your ride.

You were surprised to see Harry already in the kitchen, shuffling around as he placed fruit into a little bag. “Hey,” he smiled up at you, beginning of a setting sun glowing orange from behind him.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned, passing you the bag he was holding. “Some food for your trip.”

Sucking your lips between your teeth, you try to hide your smile. He had already prepared you a little bag of treats, one that you were going to grab for yourself. “Thank you,”

After trying your best to quickly pack, you spend the little time you had left to draw a little something for Harry. You were a bit nervous, thinking that maybe you shouldn’t slip the folded drawing into Harry’s things. But now, you were certain you needed to.

“One sec,” you mumbled, stepping away from him and quietly making your way back to your room. Grabbing the folded paper where you had left it, you went to head over to Harry’s room to place it with his things, but found Harry waiting for you in the hallway.

“Open this later,” you whispered, sliding it in his palm.

“You better be ready to go!”

Voice pulling you away from Harry, as the rest of your group crowded around you, swarming you with hugs and goodbyes.

Harry had pulled you in extra tight with his goodbye, as you sank into his arms. He muttered a quiet “goodbye love” into your hair, not wanting to let you go. Still, he knew he had to pull away, fingertips trailing down you arms as he didn’t want to fully let you go.

He did have to let go though, and you did have to leave.

After you left, Harry made up some excuse about wanting to finish packing now, before shutting his room door behind him. Fidgeting with the paper still in his hands, quickly unfolding it.

Fuck.

His mouth gaped open as his eyes focused on the drawing you had done for him. Eyes skimming over every line and detail on the page, all coming together to shape your figure.

Your very naked figure.

It was your entire body, slightly bent as if you were sitting back against the head board of a bed. One leg folded up as the other one extended out, knees just slightly parted. It was all done just in pencil, just like the sketches you had done of Harry. Your face in the image wasn’t too detailed, but unmistakably you. The sketch was all a bit rough, lines skewing out everywhere, but Harry didn’t care.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the drawing, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. He almost felt bad, like he shouldn’t be getting hot and bothered from such a delicately sketched drawing. Although nude, there was something so elegant about it. This wasn’t something quick to get off on, it was something for him to really remember you by.

Still, as he took in every curve and bend in your body, remembering the way his hands felt on you, the way your body felt with his, he felt his mouth go dry. He picked up his phone, wanting to text you even though you had just left.

“Beautiful drawing as usual.”

You glanced down at your phone, rereading Harry’s text for the fifth time. You chewed at your lip, unable to keep the smile from your lips. Having just arrived at the station and already having purchased your ticket before hand, you made your way to wait for your train that had yet to arrive.

“Just something to help keep you occupied.”

Just as your phone buzzed in your hands, your cheeks warmed as you read is words.

“Trust me love, won’t be able to get you out of my mind.”

#💖#let me know what u think !!!!#rb / like / send it to ur neighbour #hope u all enjoy !!!! 💖#and are all doing well #this just basically just fuels my art student heart #okay bye #rv #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction

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itsamejin · 4 years

Text

this love || yoongi angst

Summary: A story through the years detailing your relationship with Yoongi and all the ups and downs that came with dating an idol.

Warning: cursing, sexually suggestive content

Genre: angst, fluff, idol!yoongi, artist!yn

Pairing: Yoongi x female!reader

Premise: Based on the song ‘This Love’ by Taylor Swift. Reader is an artist.

Commission Request: @minyoongail

Word Count: 7,681 words

—

You met Yoongi when he was just a trainee, ready to take on the world and bursting with energy to get on stage. He had visions of grandeur- him living in a beautiful mansion, wearing name-brand jewelry, cruising in rare sports vehicles. When times were simpler, he’d promise that you’d be there with him, indulging in the glitz and glamour that came with his fame. He’d be an idol and you’d be his muse. Yet under all those pretenses, under all those empty promises, he was just Yoongi.

He was a guy who walked in and out of your life as easily as ocean tides come and go on the shore. He taught you how to fall in love, fall out of it, and rekindle it all the same. It was a sort of beautiful asphyxiation, being wrapped up in his lifestyle and learning to accept the consequences that came with dating a celebrity.

You wonder even now as you search his name on the internet, if you had any regrets. After all, you lost too much to be with him.

—

April 2013

A first meeting meant everything to you, especially when it came to your clients. You didn’t accept jobs from weirdos who didn’t respect your craft and you definitely hated impatient ones who badgered you to finish your pieces as quick as possible.

Big Hit was a happy medium and had hired you as a contract employee after reviewing your portfolio. Although the style of work they wanted from you was not at all what you specialized in, you were happy that they treated you like an actual employee and not some sort of machine. Plus, the pay was good.

You were asked to work on some cute animal characters for an upcoming boy group that you weren’t terribly familiar with, maybe stumbled on a vlog of theirs that you forgot about. You were intrigued by the slew of trainees that sat in front of you, their palms clenched out of anxiousness.

“I’m [Y/N], one of the digital artists that will be working with you guys from now on,” you introduce yourself politely to the seven bright-eyed boys in front of you.

You were in a room with other staff members, discussing the concept of the “Hip Hop Monsters” your graphics team was working on. This was a planned project lasting over a span of years and would eventually result in collectors edition items. It made you giddy just thinking of the royalties you’d earn from it all.

“I’d like it if the animals took after us,” one of the boys suggested shyly, slightly intimidated by the large number of corporate employees there were in the room for something that seemed so trivial. “I think our fans would like the characters more if they kind of resembled our personalities and stuff...”

You nod along to his suggestions, staring at his jersey to notice that the member who spoke up was Rap Monster. It was cute how they all wore clothes with their names on them. That’s one way to attract attention, you suppose.

“Any other suggestions you guys have for us?” you ask, jotting down notes and making rough sketches as they talk amongst themselves.

“I’d like it if,” a somewhat husky voice starts and you can’t help but stare into the guy’s eyes as he speaks, “my character was a turtle.”

You burst out into a fit of laughter along with the other staff members. He had said it with such a straight face and with so little enthusiasm, yet you could tell from his slight blush that he was serious. He was cute in the way that he wasn’t trying to be.

“You resemble one,” you grin at him, drawing out a small turtle with a cute beanie on your iPad, like the one he wore in front of you. You show it to him. “Something like this?”

“Exactly that!”

He breaks out into a gummy smile, one so bright that it hurt your heart to stare at him for too long. Now you were the one left flustered. He realizes how enthusiastic he was and got embarrassed once again, scratching the back of his head to avoid eye-contact.

“S-sorry, for shouting. It looks good.”

You bite your lip from forming too big of a grin. You still had to remain professional after all.

“You’re welcome,” you smirk slightly as he goes back to trying to look cool. You can’t help but doodle his name on your iPad even as the other members shared ideas for their own animals.

Suga, Suga, Suga.

You smile to yourself. It does have a ring to it.

—

June 2013

Yoongi sees you in the hallways sometimes and wants to say hi, but he can’t because other people are watching. Though, that isn’t the only reason.

He tells himself every day that he’ll muster up the courage to go talk to you, but every time he sees your face his legs turn to jelly. Yoongi was busy with debut stages recently, but he found some free time in his schedule to approach you.

Yoongi was never the shy type, more reserved if anything else, but you had something that enamored him- intrigued him. He wanted to know who you were other than the cute girl he was stuck in meetings with from time to time.

As you sat there on your desk, Yoongi lingered in an area nearby. He would give you his number today and if things didn’t work out then that would be that. There was no need to be all shy about this; it’s not like this is his first time asking someone out.

He strides over to you with feigned confidence and you look up after a minute, not noticing how his shadow loomed over you. He sees that you’re working on realistic portraits of the members and not the cutesy characters he usually sees you drawing.

“Hi,” he says curtly, trying to seem disinterested though he was the one that approached you first.

“Hello,” you smile up at him.

Suga.

“You draw really cool stuff,” he says to break the awkward tension. “You should show it to the CEO. I’m sure we’d have cooler concepts for our albums with your work.”

You look up at him, a happy glint in your eyes. He was complimenting you, although avoiding eye contact to seem a little less nervous than he really was.

“Well, I’m just a contract worker so I don’t think I really have the authority to start up new projects out of nowhere,” you say with a smile on your face at how flustered he looks. “I feel like you’re here to ask me for something. Am I right?”

He looks away for a split second, coughing to alleviate his nerves. He was a grown man for fuck’s sake, why was this so difficult?

“I was actually wondering if you could come give me some opinions about some art that I drew,” he lies through his teeth, just trying to find a way to get you in a more private area than the corporate floor teaming with watchful gazes. “I’ve been trying to start a new hobby.”

You chuckle slightly, seeing right through his words. You stand up to amuse him.

“I’d be happy to.”

He leads you to a studio filled with whacky knick-knacks and dim lighting, not necessarily the best place to draw. You know by now that he just said those things as an excuse to be alone with you.

“So where’s this masterpiece?” you tease slightly at his nervous expression. How did a guy who looked so deadpan have such a giddy personality?

“Well actually,” he starts off, palms already sweaty. “I-It’s not here right now, but I think I left it at the dorms. Maybe if we exchange phone numbers I can text it to you.”

He tried to appear nonchalant, but his hands moved as if he was doing a public speaking presentation. Yoongi thought he was doing great, though growing a little more nervous at how you were giggling.

“You know, Suga,” you start teasingly, “My number is in the company directory. Feel free to text me anytime.”

Yoongi slightly cringes hearing his stage name. He loves it, don’t get him wrong, but he didn't like hearing it come from you. He didn’t like the unfamiliar aspect that came with using his stage name- like you two only went by professional terms.

“Call me Yoongi,” he says with genuine confidence this time. “I like it better when my friends call me Yoongi.”

You nod, relieved that you could finally know this cute guy’s name. Truth be told, you were snooping around his conversations with other people to figure it out.

“So we’re friends?”

Yoongi nods, sitting down in his rolling chair.

“I’d like to be,” he grins, patting the sofa, hoping you’d take a seat with him.

And you do.

—

Present

It’s hard to work efficiently when you’re no longer in a corporate space. There’s no boss to check up on your progress nor is there a nosy coworker trying to see what you’re doing from the corner of their eye. You missed the hustle and bustle of an office floor, but it was nice exploring your creativity through freelance work.

You tap your digital pen onto the table repeatedly, looking at the reference image over and over again. It was a sick joke played by the universe to have been commissioned to draw your ex-boyfriend’s idol group, but you couldn’t refuse the hundreds of dollars the ecstatic fangirl was willing to give you. Truth be told, she might have offered too much pay, but you took up her offer anyway. Money is money.

Yet a face you’ve touched so often, a person you’d been with for years felt so unfamiliar to you. It wasn’t like you were drawing him realistically either. The client wanted anime-style figures that resembled them, looked enough like the boys to display it as her Twitter header. In the end, it’s still too difficult to draw. The rest of the members were lined up and sketched perfectly, but there was a blank area where Yoongi’s face should’ve been.

Your wrists hurt from the constant drawing and erasing so you set it down to massage your hand from cramping. In moments like these, you hated your job.

Ting.

A message notification popped up on your phone that laid beside your iPad. You usually left it silent when you were working, but you opened yourself up to distractions when drawing this particular piece. Whoever thought it was a good idea to specialize in celebrity artwork? You pick up your phone and smiled softly at the text.

hey, can I come over?

—

March 2014

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Yoongi, happy birthday to you~~”

You cheer on with the rest of the boys in their cramped dorm. Somehow you had gotten close enough with them to be at this level of comfort, sitting crisscrossed and shoulders touching with Jungkook and Seokjin. Yoongi blows out the candles and claps his hands, a little sad that another year passed by so quickly. He kept glancing at you who was focused on cutting the cake like the perfectionist you were.

He couldn’t help but feel like time was running out, like if he didn’t confess to you now then it would never happen. Yoongi took off the beanie he wore and ruffled his hair. He was feeling anxious all of a sudden.

“Dude don’t do that your dandruff is gonna get everywhere,” Hoseok whines. “The cake is gonna be decorated with your dead skin cells.”

“Go wash your hands,” Jin commands and Yoongi could only roll his eyes.

“Relax, I don’t even think we’re gonna have cake anytime soon when this slow-poke is taking forever to cut.”

He flicks your forehead as you glare up at him.

“I could so easily throw this in your face, but I choose not to,” you stick your tongue out at him and he scoffs.

“I’d like to see you try.”

All the members groan out of annoyance.

“Oh my god they’re having a lovers quarrel again,” Jimin yawned. “Aren’t you guys sick of arguing?”

Yoongi freezes at his words. Lover’s quarrel. That was a nice way to put it.

“They’ll stop arguing when Yoongi finally-”

Taehyung was cut off as Yoongi swipes three fingers worth of frosting from the cake and lathers it all over Taehyung’s face.

“You talk too much,” Yoongi shakes his head and soon chaos descended. Cake flew in places it shouldn’t have and ended when Namjoon knocked over a glass of water, managing to break it on the floor tiles. In the end, no one got cake.

Yoongi and you were laughing amongst yourselves at the kitchen sink, washing off some of the bits that got onto your shirts.

“I’m so sorry about your cake,” you say through your chuckles. “I’ll make it up to you some time.”

Yoongi only smiles.

“Yeah, you can treat me on a date,” he replies a little too boldly. You look at him in shock, not quite processing his words.

“A date?”

He nods.

“We should go out sometime.”

You purse your lips to prevent the huge grin about to be displayed on your face.

“We should.”

—

Present

It was subtle, the way it all started. You trace over the features you drew so far, only getting to his eyes. Yoongi and you were innocent lovers for a while, keeping your trysts a secret from everyone in the company except his managers and the members. A few of your friends knew, but none of them knew BTS well enough to be all that surprised. It wasn’t all that rare to go out with a celebrity in your line of work.

You almost miss those days when he was unrecognizable. After your friends realized who he was after he hit it big globally, you felt like a secret of yours was displayed to them. Your love was supposed to be private, but his fame left very little room for privacy. You missed when you were the only one that knew of him and maybe it’s selfish to think that way, but you were past the point of being selfish.

You text back.

yeah, can't wait to see you

—

Jan. 2015

Yoongi lays you down on the couch gently. His hands caressing your sides underneath the thin material of your shirt as he pulls you in closer to his kisses. This felt different from other nights, different in that there was nothing around to stop what would come next.

He pulls away from you slightly, panting from the lack of oxygen.

“Are you sure?” he asks, drawing circles on your hip with his thumb. He was only supposed to come over to help you unpack some stuff for your new apartment and here you were, pinned on the couch and sweating from the close contact.

You nod back in response, not finding the right words to get him to continue. He pulls your shirt over your head, peppering kisses on your neck and atop your breasts. He fixates on your neck languidly, biting as he sees fits.

There was a pause as you felt him press up against you and you knew then that there was no making it to the bed. You would have your first time with him on this newly moved-in couch.

The clothes dropped to the ground as his touches get more impatient, more desperate. It all passes by like a blur and you could only remember the pleasure that came with his long fingers, the satisfaction you felt when he was inside you. The climax of it all made you realize that you loved him, truly and without regret. He holds you in his arms when you come undone, flashing a satiated smile as you look up at him. It’s like the stars were in his eyes.

“How do you feel?” you ask him, worried he was already drowsy. You didn’t want to have to sleep on the couch naked.

“Satisfied,” he says with a smile on his face.

You can’t help but swoon, his eyes fixated on you. At least for now, he was yours He wasn’t Suga, a rapper. He was Yoongi, your boyfriend.

It didn't matter to you that he was struggling to make a name for himself in this cut-throat idol industry or that he would spend countless nights cursing as one of his numerous tracks get rejected. None of that was in your mind. Only he swam through your thoughts. Only him.

“I love you,” he sighs out. He was the first to say it.

“I love you too,” you reply back and he holds you tight against him.

He’s nuzzling himself in your hair, his chest pressed up against you so his heartbeat can synch with yours. He loves this, can’t get enough of it. He catches your lips and once again you are whisked in the pleasure of it all. This is it. This is what love is.

—

Present

The piece is finally finished and you send it off to your client, hoping she doesn’t ask for revisions because you can’t handle another second of drawing his stupid face. His soft skin, his tiny moles, his gummy smile...

It's not like you hate him. It’s just... a certain contempt lingers after a breakup from a long-term relationship. It’s the type of resentment that can’t really be explained. You don’t want to see him, but you catch yourself watching his videos on Youtube. You don’t want to think about him, but you hope he thinks about you. You don’t see yourself ever getting back together with him, but you don’t have his phone number blocked.

It’s a sort of paradox you catch yourself in and you wonder if you could ever get out of it. Will Yoongi ever escape your mind?

can't wait to see u too babe

—

Aug. 2016

Yoongi hugs you from behind, his face scrunched at the nape of your neck where several marks were made from last night’s events. Your eyes stayed focus on the TV in front of you, still impressed by your own ability to afford one in your bedroom at your salary.

“BTS' SUGA drops new music video for his song and mixtape Agust D...”

The news anchor drones on and you could barely hear her through the sounds of Yoongi’s soft snores. His hold on you grew tighter as he hears his stage name from an unfamiliar voice and it makes you giggle slightly at how different the edgy music video being displayed was from the same person wrapping you in his arms so tightly.

“Babe, wake up. I have work to do,” you whisper into his hair and he only shakes his head back in response.

“No,” he mutters, pulling you into him closer. You roll your eyes, managing to pry off one of his hands as you sit up on the bed.

“Don’t you have studio stuff to do today?” you ask him, searching for a shirt to wear.

He shakes his head as his eyes start to flutter open. You both reeked of alcohol since you opened a bottle of wine last night to celebrate the release of his first solo work. He was proud of it and you were proud of him.

“Can you turn that off, I’m getting a migraine,” he whines, covering his head with a pillow. You opted to wear Yoongi’s shirt instead of your own since you couldn’t be bothered to walk to the other side of the bed to find it. You smiled at his laying figure, cooped in a fetal-like position. He was still naked, but you were with him long enough to no longer be phased by that sort of thing.

“From one bottle of wine?” you tease slightly. “I think you’re losing your touch, Agust D.”

You chuckle as he throws the pillow on top of his head towards you.

“Don’t call me that,” he pouts, “It feels like you’re making fun of me.”

You stand up from where you were, stretching out your back as you make your way to the door.

“That’s because I am,” you smirk, “You know you’re saved on my phone as Sugar?”

He gives you a glare.

“It’s Suga,” he says, attempting to add some intimidation to his voice. It doesn’t work because all you do is stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever sugar.”

He chuckles lightly and watches the silhouette of your figure exit his view. Yoongi can’t help but mindlessly follow after you.

As you exit towards the kitchen, you can’t help but hear the television from the bedroom.

“Suga has recently been caught up in a dating scandal with Suran, the solo artist, who sang with him in a song...”

Your head snaps up from those words, your skin crawling with goosebumps. You make it into the kitchen but with a heavy heart and no appetite.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, passing by you to pour himself some water.

“Nothing,” you say, though you sounded bitter. He caught on quite quickly. You were jealous again.

Yoongi heaves out a deep sigh and sets the glass of water down. He comes over to your angry figure and gives you a soft hug, laying his head on top of yours as if to comfort you. You try to pull away but he keeps you close.

“I’ll tell them to drop the rumors, okay?,” he says, genuinely enough to make you believe him. “I don’t want us to fight so early in the morning.”

“You promise?”

He pulls away.

“I promise,” he says, brushing a hair away from your face. “Let’s not think about those rumors right now. You and me both know they’re not true.”

You were never one to forget so easily.

—

It was around 2016 when you had stopped working at Big Hit. They halted the Hip Hop Monster brand and your contract was expiring with them anyway. You went from living a kush office life to struggling freelance worker in a matter of a second. It also meant that Yoongi and you would be spending less time together. His busy schedules couldn’t permit him to stay with you longer than a few hours and his presence slowly started to disappear from his side of the bed.

It was like a sinking ship, what you had with him. The pain starts off slow, unnoticeable. You’ll still laugh and keep up appearances as time passes, but you could tell there was an ominous atmosphere that wasn’t initially there in the relationship. Your screams start to grow silent as more problems start to stack on top of each other. It’s then when you hit the iceberg. It’s then when it all starts to fall apart.

He was still good for you, you convinced yourself, even as the currents swept you out under your feet.

—

Dec. 2016

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not coming?” you yell through your phone. You were sitting on the floor of your living room, holiday decorations strewn around the apartment. He promised he’d come spend a day off of his winter promotions to be with you.

“You know how hectic the end of the year gets with promotions,” he says in quiet hushes. “I can’t do anything about it. This is my job.”

You suck in your cheeks to prevent yourself from yelling. From the sound of it, he was in public.

“Yoongi, I called out of talking to a really high-paying client,” you say through gritted teeth. “And I still came home. Why am I the only one making sacrifices?”

He sighed at the other end. He didn’t have the patience to deal with you today.

“Look, can you stop being so fucking needy. I don’t need this right now.”

He couldn’t tell from the phone call, but your heart broke at the word. Needy. He thought that you were needy.

“I’m already stressed out as it is,” he continues through the phone. “I don’t need you up my ass all the time.”

“I’m not gonna wait for you,” you reply, tears threatening to spill over. “I’m going to sleep and you’re gonna get rid of all the shit you have in my apartment. I’m sick of you, Yoongi.”

He scoffs.

“I’m sick of you too.”

Yoongi hangs up, about ready to hit the wall when Jimin comes to calm him down. Small things that were never meant to be taken seriously built up until it was ready to crash down.

When Yoongi comes at night to visit you, he sees that you’re asleep on the couch. He sits next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry baby,” he whispers quietly. “I’ll do better.”

You nuzzled closer to him, comforted by words you forget the next day. Even when you woke up with a bad neck and Yoongi snoring onto your skin, you couldn’t find a way to stay mad at him. You knew, deep down, that some way or the other you’re gonna find yourself arguing about the same thing next week.

—

Present

Junghoon comes to pick you up. Junghoon, your boyfriend.

He’s a little uptight and too stern for his own good, but has a good heart and a knack of giving great gifts. You met him from working in the same industry, a 3D graphics designer for several video game companies. He was a new addition to your life, your relationship only about three months old.

You were warming up to him slowly, thankful for finally having a consistent presence in your life. He always made time for you, never used work as an excuse, and didn’t act cold just for the sake of acting cold. Junghoon was sweet in the way that Yoongi used to be when he wasn’t such a massive celebrity.

It was a relief to have someone like Junghoon in your life that didn’t walk in and out of your door without much of a thought to even say goodbye. Your life with him has been a tad bit dull, but you don’t mind all that much. Junghoon’s made you feel secure in ways that Yoongi couldn’t.

—

May 2017

“Your boyfriend is winning a whole ass award across the world and you’re having ramen with me?” Chaerin sighs. It’s typical for a best friend to judge the actions of the other.

“Yeah and?” you reply snarkily, swirling your chopstick around to find the perfect clump of noodles. “I’m not the top social artist according to Billboard, what’s it have to do with me?”

She rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know, you could at least watch him win the award?” she suggests. “The live stream is literally happening right now. Your boyfriend is making history and you don’t even care!”

You look at the clock on the restaurant wall. It was nearing 2 o’clock and your client meeting would be starting soon. You were in high demand as a graphic artist recently and as far as you were concerned, that was the only thing on your mind at the moment. You stare back into your bowl, suddenly losing your appetite.

“The apartment is lonely without him,” you admit sadly.

He bought one for himself and had you move in. ‘It’s easier to not get noticed by the tabloids,’ he convinced you. The modern sleekness of his penthouse was a nice change to your lifestyle, but you missed the comfiness of your small studio apartment. It was often too cold when he wasn’t around.

“You could watch it with me?” Chaerin suggested. “Yoongi’s probably so sad that his own girlfriend doesn’t even want to watch him win such a major award.”

You bite down on your chopstick harshly.

“Well he didn't even want me to come with him so I don’t wanna hear anymore about him from you.”

Chaerin squinted her eyes in your direction.

“Well I mean I get where he’s coming from. He’s still an idol, [Y/N],” she scolds. “It would be a massive risk to take you with him.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, pushing the bowl away from you.

“I’m not an idiot, Chae. It’s not like I was asking to be on the red carpet with him, I just wanted to be there waiting in the hotel room after the show. Two nights ago he suddenly backs out and says I shouldn’t come.”

Chaerin’s jaw dropped out of shock. That wasn’t what she was expecting at all.

“Did he say why?”

You stare down at your nails, your heart growing heavy as a long pause of silence takes place. It would be better to be honest, right? You shouldn’t have to pretend like everything’s okay when it clearly isn’t.

“He said he wants space,” you say, careful not to get choked up. “So I’m giving it to him.”

You clutch your thigh instinctively, remembering how Yoongi had brought that up with you just nights before. You two weren’t happy and that he needed to figure himself out before the relationship gets any worse. It’s just a break or whatever bullshit he spouted.

She scoffs.

“What is wrong with you two?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “You are not the type of person to take a break in a relationship.”

You stare bitterly into the reflection of your soup.

“I just don’t think I’ve been happy for a while,” you reply, taking a sip of your water that was left untouched for a better half of the night. “I don’t think he is either.”

—

Sept. 2017

The break lasted for months and you wondered if it was really even a break at all. It felt more like a break up if you were honest. He’d text once in a while and video call you when he was free but other than that it felt like he became a stranger, just another celebrity billboard you walked past on your way to a client’s workplace.

You’d draw sketches of him countlessly, in fear you’d forget how his face looked in real life and not through a low-quality screen. You etched every baby hair, every small blemish he’d hide with makeup. It was your method of not forgetting who the real Yoongi was because honestly, you didn’t know anymore. You didn’t know him.

Trrrringggg.

The sound of your doorbell could be heard all throughout your apartment. You stood up from where you sat on the bed, leaving the sketchbook of his face on the comforter. You weren’t expecting any visitors, but surely enough, Yoongi stood in front of you with a lopsided grin on his face.

“Hey.”

You let him in, not uttering a single word. He looks different now. His hair was black, thank god, but his face was a little softer than you were used to. You remember him being so paranoid about turning bald just a few years ago and here he was, no bald spots to be found. He looked healthy.

“It’s been a while,” you respond, hugging your arms close to your chest, uncomfortable that he was in your presence. It was his apartment technically, but you lived in it more than he did. He opted to stay in the dorm ever since he issued that idiotic break.

“I miss you,” he says in a lowly voice and you almost believe him. Almost.

You scoff.

“It seems like you’ve been having fun without me though,” you say through gritted teeth. “I thought you still wanted space?”

He shakes his head and brings his hand to touch your arm.

“No,” he swallows his saliva. “I miss you.”

You could feel his sincerity, but you can’t help but not trust him. He’s been viciously cold to you, but you find yourself pulling him closer anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again,” you threaten. “It’ll really be over then, Yoongi.”

He sighs into your hair. He loves you. He does. But he doesn’t know why it’s so hard to express it.

“I promise [Y/N]. I won’t leave.”

—

Aug. 2018

He buys you flowers, your favorite kind. It’s a small gesture, but it has you jumping into his arms all the same. It shows that he still cares somewhat. It’s been a while since he’s last shown it.

He holds you closely, appreciating the softness of your body and how you curl perfectly into him.

“I want to stay like this,” you say mindlessly, just relishing in his presence.

You’re not mad at him today and he’s not frustrated with you. It’s a high point in your relationship.

“Me too.”

His words are simple but it warms your heart nonetheless. Yoongi looks at you with twinkling eyes and for a moment you think that this could last forever and that it will last forever. You kiss him slowly and he reciprocates.

It reminds you of your first time, slow and careful- like you were the last person he’d ever want to hurt.

His love, although painful at times, was good to you when you needed it to be.

—

July 2019

Yoongi’s gone again. He’s on tour, as usual, and not giving you any updates. You were getting sick of it. The constant waiting, the constant insecurities that ate you up inside. You weren’t built to endure this kind of torture.

Suga. Suga. Suga.

It rolls off the tongue but it feels disgusting coming out of your mouth. His stage name, a persona. He starts to resemble that name more and more as the days go by. You hear it so much now that it no longer registers as an actual word.

You call him.

He doesn’t pick up.

Again.

No answer.

You’re about ready to throw the phone at the wall until a soft ring was heard from the small device. You take the call immediately, smiling as if you passed the hardest difficulty of a video game. The grin would soon be wiped away, though.

“Why’d you call?” he grumbles from the other line, loud music blasting in the background.

“Why weren’t you picking up?” You sound bitter. You don’t care.

“I’m out right now,” he says, exasperation laced in his voice. “I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Clearly, he just wasn’t in the mood to talk to you. Yoongi was at a party or a club or wherever he could possibly be in the streets of Shizuoka at 10 p.m.

You just wanted to chat, check on him as a good girlfriend would. He’s been complaining that you haven’t been in a while. You thought this was what he wanted- for you to care.

“I just wanted to see if you were doing okay,” you sigh. “How’d the concert go?”

“Good,” he says, clearly distracted. “Some of us snuck out of the hotel rooms to let loose for a bit.”

You nod as if he could see you.

“So you’re partying?”

You could hear him laugh at the other end, but it wasn’t from your comment. Someone else was making him laugh. Someone with a light and dainty voice, whiny as she got closer to Yoongi.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that,” he says, clearly distracted. “Listen I’ll call you back, okay?”

You feel a lump stuck in your throat. There are no words left to say. The foreign girl on the other end giggled harder at whatever Yoongi was saying and it felt like you were invading their privacy- as if she was his girlfriend and you were nothing. You hung up, your mouth feeling dry as the tears poured down.

You see a text from Yoongi just a few seconds into your wallowing. You sniffle as you read it.

don’t misunderstand. nothing’s happening rn i'm just having a bit of fun.

This time you really threw your phone at the wall.

You go to your iPad that’s sitting untouched on your desk. You open your drawing app and just let the anger in the stylus take you from there. You draw a rough sketch of a couple on the edge of a beachside cliff. The woman seems to be falling into the water as if she was pushed. The guy’s hand reaches out to her, but you can’t really tell if he was trying to grab her or if he was the one that let her go in the first place.

As the tears spilled onto the cool surface of the iPad, you sob harder. Nothing could be fixed and everything still felt broken. It was meaningless, sleeping in his bed and wearing his clothes when he was all the way in Japan snuggling up to girls that were probably much prettier and much more willing to understand his lifestyle.

You look around the penthouse he had bought for the two of you, beautiful wide panel windows and modern furniture. It mostly looks empty, everything nice and tidy as if no one lived here. It had such a stark contrast to that of his old life when he shared rooms with other members and had no place to really put his keyboard except the studio. You smiled at the memory of you all hovering around the small coffee table in the cramped living room eating ramen.

Maybe it was your fault for falling behind, for letting the world around you build up and not follow in Yoongi’s tracks.

—

Present

You guess it was then when the relationship had passed a point of no return. When everything that felt right had started to feel incredibly wrong. You tolerated his presence rather than bask in it. You heard him speak but couldn’t bother to listen. Maybe you were petty, but more than anything you were angry.

You were angry that he could break you that badly and you would still forgive him for it.

You stare over at Junghoon who’s cooking you up something on the stove. This is what you needed.

—

Nov. 2019

Yoongi was back from some big-name award show that you didn’t watch. You heard he won Artist of the Year or whatever, the accolades that he’s collected no longer having meaning as the days pass. Why be happy for him when he himself showed no signs of excitement? This was routine. He expected the awards at this point.

You walked towards him. Yoongi looked angry, though you have no idea why.

“Hey, I made dinner to celebrate,” you tell him. Yoongi’s sitting on the couch, scrolling through the congratulatory messages he received from other industry stars. He looked like he needed to get something off his chest.

“I’m not hungry,” he mutters. “Just leave it.”

“Are you sure?”

He scoffs. It was a simple question.

“Not in the mood.”

You give him a pointed look and sit next to him.

“Why are you never in the mood for anything?” you ask him. “It’s just food Yoongi. I just want to eat with you.”

You don’t see it properly but he rolls his eyes.

“Just drop it okay? Today’s a good day, I don’t need you to ruin it.”

You suck in your cheeks.

“Ruin?”

Yoongi sighs heavily.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he starts, facing you. “Why do you have to be so dramatic over everything.”

You grit your teeth.

“Dramatic?” your voice quivers. “I didn’t know feeling hurt was being dramatic.”

His gaze softens and he touches your arm lightly.

“Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

You shake your head, feeling your eyes dampen at his words.

“I hate your apologies, Yoongi,” you say in a hushed tone. “They don’t mean anything anymore.”

He’s shocked, not really sure how to respond. You were never one to confront him, especially when he was angry. Instead, he holds your hand softly. He was terrible at comforting people.

“Yoongi are you really sorry?” you ask abruptly. It was a question you’ve been meaning to ask for years now.

His grip on you tightened and you can’t quite read his expression, but you can tell that it’s not a positive response. He looks conflicted and he shouldn’t have to be if he really was. You force him to let go of you.

“I am,” he says, knowing he answered a little too late for his words to not seem suspicious.

“I don’t think you are,” you reply sadly. “You say sorry more than you-”

say I love you.

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence because he knows. He knows what you’re trying to say.

“I am,” he says with more sincerity, but he looks at you with an unreadable expression. “I just don’t think it’s enough at this point.”

“What’s not enough?”

You were confused. Is he still talking about whether he's apologetic or not? Or is it something entirely different?

“I do love you,” he says with a certain conviction in his voice, “and I always will, but it feels like nothing’s working out.”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you and focuses on the leather of the fancy couch. He doesn’t say anything but you know what this means. He’s about to stand up, but you grab onto his wrist.

“This is your apartment,” you say before he could say anything to break your heart even further. “I’ll leave.”

“[Y/N], no,” he says. “You don’t have anywhere else to go. I’m just gonna stay over at the dorm. I just...”

Your eyes get blurry from the tears. Even now it felt like he was looking down at you. Nowhere to go. It was like he pitied you.

“...need to go clear my mind,” he finishes the sentence, standing up to grab his coat.

You shake your head and stand in front of him. He’s usually like this. A coward. A bumbling fool who would rather avoid problems than face them head on.

“I need you to stay, Yoongi,” you cry out. “I need you to actually stay for once and comfort me.”

He looks at you, mouth open but no words come out. He smiles sadly and walks toward you, kissing your cheek.

“I don’t think I can do that anymore, [Y/N],” he says and you watch him leave as easily as he walked in.

It’s not like he ever comforted you in the first place.

—

The break up happened silently over a late-night phone call a few days after he disappeared on you. You packed up your things, stayed over at Chaerin’s house, and braced yourself for what was to come. It should’ve happened sooner, you admit, but your heart still sinks when he speaks.

“I just don’t think either of us is willing to try anymore,” he says solemnly. “We’ve been on and off for the past few years and I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to continue.”

You agree, just wanting the call to end quickly so you wouldn’t have to hear his voice any longer. It hurt to have to listen to him rationalize breaking your heart.

“I don’t think we should be together anymore, [Y/N],” he says, not even a tiny bit choked up. “I think we’ve... outgrown each other.”

You knew what Yoongi really meant. He’s outgrown you.

“I think so too,” you say rigidly. Short and simple. You left nothing to be desired. “Let’s break up.”

Yoongi looks at his phone, slightly disappointed. He wished you would fight back, maybe rekindle something in him that he’s lost over the years. Yet you were silent on the line and he just had to accept it- that there was nothing left to be saved.

“Take care, okay?” he says softly because in the end he still cares- he just doesn’t want to anymore.

“I will,” you reply, ultimately hanging up the phone. You collapse onto a bed unfamiliar to you. Yoongi would no longer sleep beside you, no longer reach over to hug your side and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He was gone and you had to accept that maybe he was never yours in the first place.

His last words replay in your mind.

Take care.

That was the most concern he’s ever shown you in the past few weeks. You almost scoff at the absurdity of it all. You don’t notice how truly broken you were until the tears start streaming down your face. You see the image of him through blurry eyes and you wonder how you could let Yoongi leave such a permanent scar on your heart.

—

Present

“Do you like your eggs runny or no?”

Junghoon asks as you approach his figure. You hug him from behind and smile at his warmth. Safe.

“Just a little runny,” you reply.

He smiles and nods, turning off the heat and grabbing some seasoning from your cupboard. You detach yourself from him when you realized what he was grabbing.

“Babe that’s not salt. That’s-”

Sugar.

You stop yourself from saying it and Junghoon looks at you with concern. He chuckles at your stoic state and ruffles your hair.

“Cat got your tongue or what?” he asks, grabbing the right container this time. “Maybe I should’ve asked if you like your eggs sweet instead, huh?”

“I’ve never tried that combination before,” you say teasingly. “Why don’t you test it out for us.”

He clicks his tongue at you and splashes some salt on your face.

“I’ll pour sugar all over you if that’s what you really want.”

You laugh half-heartedly. A simple word shouldn’t affect you this much but you find yourself get more teary-eyed as it repeats in your head. It wasn’t fair to Junghoon that you were thinking of your ex in his presence. It wasn’t fair to you either.

You feel a vibration from your pocket and you pull it out to serve as a distraction from your wallowing thoughts. It’s a text.

From Sugar.

—

A/N: This was so hard to write because my mind has just been empty these days but I’m so glad it’s done now >_< Thank you to @minyoongail for requesting this story. I’ve been bumping to the Taylor Swift song now because of this commissions T^T I recommend you all to listen to it. I tried to write this in a different style from my other works so I hope this is still readable for you all LOL

I’m closing commissions temporarily to focus on the ones I have now and to also start writing my own stuff. Let me know how you feel about this, I appreciate all types of comments and criticisms <3 Look forward to Part 2!

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amerrierworld · 3 years

Text

Kiss Her For Me (pt 3)

for anon: Kiss Her For Me pt 3?

Summary: Charlie appears at one of Therese’s gallery showings and Carol insists she pose for the photographer’s portfolio.

Characters: Carol x Therese x OC

Word Count: 2,801

Warnings: SMUT F/F/F threesome :)

The giant crown of red hair was unmistakable across the gallery, and Therese gasped audibly as she recognized the woman in the distance. Carol had been distracted by looking at one of her framed prints and the glass of champagne in her hands, so she was startled when Therese’s grip in her hand tightened until her fingers hurt.

“What is it, angel?” Carol asked, worried that Richard or some stupid oaf from Therese’s past had shown up.

“Look, Carol, over there,” Therese whispered, nodding to where she was looking.

Carol’s ruby lips pulled into a sly smile as she also recognized Charlotte standing by one of Therese’s larger photos; a colourful landscape from one of their trips together.

“How is she here?” Therese spluttered. They hadn’t seen Charlie since their last intimate night, and hadn’t had time to even think about going to Jackie’s strip club.

“I have a feeling our dear Abigail has something to do with it,” Carol replied before tugging Therese along as she walked in Charlie’s direction. “Come on, it’s unfitting for the host not to welcome all guests.”

Charlie recognized them from afar before either woman said anything, and she rushed over, heels tapping the floor, before wrapping each of them in a warm hug.

“Therese! You never told me you were so talented! My goodness, Carol, where do you find them?”

Carol barked out a laugh and gave Charlie a warm kiss on the cheek, “I’m so happy to see you here, Charlotte. How did you know about Therese’s showing?”

“Oh, Abby, of course. Well, technically Jackie, but it’s basically like talking to the same person.”

All three of them agreed on that, before Therese asked her what she had been enjoying so far, nerves slowly dissipating as their conversation carried on.

“I must say- the portraits you’ve done? Marvellous!” Charlie gestured a little further away from them where Therese had a small cluster of intimate portraits of various models.

“If I had the money I’d ask you for a million photos, really! I desperately need new headshots, and what you manage to capture is just perfect.”

Therese frowned and said, “Oh, you wouldn’t have to pay me. I just like taking photos of people.”

“No- no, absolutely not. Work like this should be paid for, I don’t want to get away with it for free just because we’re... acquainted.”

Carol rolled her eyes lovingly and rubbed her thumb over Therese’s knuckles.

“Let Therese take some photos of you, Charlie. You’re beautiful and photogenic. I’m sure something could be... arranged between us, right angel?”

Therese flushed a bright red, and Charlie smiled from ear-to-ear,

“Only if you’d be a part of that arrangement, Carol.”

“Of course,” Carol grinned, bringing Therese’s hand up to her lips, “we come as a package deal.”

Charlotte appeared in a set of mom jeans and a giant knitted sweater that nearly slipped off of her slim shoulders. Therese coughed and felt herself nearly choke at the sight of her, and Carol chuckled, rubbing her back.

“Hey Carol,” Charlotte said warmly, waving at the blonde. In response, Carol tugged her close by the arm and kissed her firmly on the mouth. If Therese hadn’t been frozen in awe she would have raised her camera to take a picture.

“Is that what you’re planning to wear?” Therese asked, voice timid. She hadn’t counted on Charlie to look so cozy; lots of her looks had been fitted, seductive and feline thus far.

“Oh, no,” Charlie replied cheekily. “Actually, I wasn’t planning on wearing anything at all.”

Carol barked a laugh at Therese, whose mouth dropped open.

“You’ve done nude portraits before, haven’t you, angel?” Carol asked, sensing Therese’s nerves.

“Well, yes, but- I’ve never-” I’ve never been so aroused by a model I’m shooting... except for Carol.

“Never photographed a redhead?” Charlotte winked, and adored the way Therese spluttered defensively.

“I’ll show you where to drop your stuff. Let her get her cameras and doohickies set up,” Carol said, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s waist. She winked at the brunette before heading down the narrow hall and Therese did take a photo this time of the two women as they walked away. The lighting wasn’t right, and they were moving so there was bound to be blurriness, but this wasn’t for her portfolio. This was for her.

Once in the changing room, Carol helped Charlie undress, folding her clothes neatly.

“This is a nice sweater,” she commented, rubbing her thumb over the soft grey material.

“Thanks,” Charlie chortled, applying a bit of gloss in the mirror. “It’s thrifted, actually. Do you work in the studio with Therese?”

“Oh, no,” Carol smiled, “I work at a furniture store a bit further in the city. But I figured our Therese might want some extra hands on deck considering she can get so.. tense.”

The redhead and blonde laughed gleefully at the memory of their bold yet shy Therese, the atmosphere amicable between them.

Carol held out a robe for Charlie to wear between shots, but the younger woman took her time in sauntering over to her, nude as the day she was born.

She reached past the bathrobe and fiddled with the collar on Carol’s blouse, making the blonde flush with heat as she bit her lip,

“You should pose with me,” she grinned. “As a treat for our Therese.”

Carol chuckled, “you young women are so bold sometimes. I’m far too ancient to pose for a camera nude.”

“I disagree,” Charlie hummed, before slipping on the robe and heading out again to the main studio space.

A large white backdrop was lit with a variety of coloured lights. Therese was playing with the settings, wondering if she should make it a dramatic, colourful portrait set-up, or something more clean and sharp.

She looked up at the sound of the two women approaching, and she had undone the top two buttons on her dress shirt.

“Where do you want me?” Charlie said, swaying her hips as she approached the photographer. Therese smiled, dimples highlighted in the lighting, and took Charlie’s hand with confidence.

Carol took a seat behind the tripod holding the camera, watching as Therese arranged the redhead on the ground by the backdrop. She guided her arm; draped her fingers over her knee, positioned her feet and knees with a professional touch, and Carol felt somehow heated at the sight of her becoming so in control.

“Let’s start with the robe on, first,” Therese suggested, heading towards where Carol was and fiddling one more time with the lights.

“Not prepared for the full show yet?” Charlotte teased, relaxing into the pose Therese had put her in.

“I just wanna give you a good introduction before we get there,” the brunette replied without hesitation and Carol smiled.

Therese snapped a few shots, enjoying her photography skills and the natural flair she had for directing Charlie’s poses. With every new pose, the robe slipped off a little more, and a bit more skin was revealed. The freckles were highlighted in the colours Therese chose, and her bright blue eyes really picked up on the photos.

Then, Therese told Carol to get some props, specifically the pale sheets and the small, white armchair with golden edges. When she returned, Charlie was fully nude, barely holding the robe against her chest, nipples peaking teasingly just by the edge of the fabric. Her legs, nimble and flexible, were stretched and folded in front of her, almost swan-like.

She let Carol and Therese position the chair and draped her in the sheet, letting it slip off her shoulders, letting her leg peek through below, letting the valley of her breasts be shadowed dramatically as she leaned back and arched her whole body atop of the chair.

“Fuck,” Therese breathed as she stepped back. Carol could practically hear her heartbeat hammering, and the only sound for a while was the camera clicking and the shutter going off.

“It feels like you two have just been pampering me,” Charlie laughed, her head tossed back as Carol raked her hands through the curls to tame it a little. She wasn’t a professional assistant at all, didn’t know how to do hair or makeup, but she listened to Therese, and that seemed to satisfy everyone involved.

“Don’t you think Carol’s been working really hard, Therese?” Charlie asked, her blue eyes flickering over to the blonde, who’s hand stilled in her hair. “Maybe she should pose with me. It’s only fair. Look how beautiful she is.”

Therese stopped shooting for a moment, and across the studio, grey eyes met green, and something fierce sparked between the two of them.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Therese said, her voice uncharacteristically husky, “Carol?”

“As long as this doesn’t land on the front page of the New York Times,” Carol teased, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.

“Just the front page of our bedroom portfolio,” Therese grinned. Charlie gaped,

“You said you never would pose nude,” she said to Carol, accusingly.

“Never in such a professional space,” Carol replied, “and definitely not alongside someone else.”

“But I’m the exception?” Charlie pushed out her bottom lip lovingly and Carol smiled, but Therese was the one who replied,

“Always.”

Then Charlie began helping Carol undress, just like the blonde had done before, and also because Carol was nearly frozen with her mind racing. This beautiful woman, undressing her, as her lover stood by with a camera and a keen eye, ready to capture every moment, every touch, every kiss-

“Kiss her for me,” Therese ordered with a quiet mumble, raising the camera, “it’ll help relax her.”

“Now who’s tense, hm?” Charlotte said, before kissing Carol on the cheek. Her blouse was entirely unbuttoned, revealing a creamy lace bra.

“What would you like, dear Therese?” Charlie asked, turning towards the photographer, the sheet forgotten by her feet.

“Act as if the camera isn’t here,” Therese suggested, “show her a good time. But not too good.”

Carol groaned, rendered speechless as the redhead raised her up and slipped the blouse off for her. Then she sat Carol down in the chair, shimmied her skirt off for her so she was only in her undergarments, and Charlie entirely nude. She left Carol’s blood-red heels on.

Therese was shuffling around, snapping photos as Charlie began rocking and swaying in rhythm atop of Carol’s lap. Carol’s hands gripped her hips, gently at first, but then the dominant fire came back to her. Once she got used to the glaring lights, the new environment of the studio, and the softness of Charlie’s skin so close to hers now, her grip tightened and her mind regained its laser-focus during sex.

Charlie moved off of her lap, pushed between her legs, and without hesitation pressed her tongue against Carol’s panties. And Therese was there, instantly, to catch the awed, aroused look on Carol’s face as the tongue began rolling against her clothed cunt. Her hair tumbled back as she let out a shaken groan, and Therese smirked while blushing as her camera clicked once, twice, thrice.

She got a closeup of Carol’s hand, twisting in Charlie’s hand. Carol’s leg swinging over Charlie’s shoulder with her heel still on, the sheen of sweat collecting in the valley of her still-covered breasts, the arch of Charlie’s back as she licked and teased the older woman.

This is what she loved, Therese realized, more than anything. The pure unbridled adoration and lust, the beauty of two women lost in pleasure. Whether she was witnessing or experiencing it, there was something so incredibly timeless about it that she stopped for a moment in photographing, and just watched.

Carol’s breath was hitching, and her eyes were rolling back, and her voice was raising in colourful curses, but Charlie pulled away just as her legs began to tremble.

“I remember what you said, last time,” Charlie purred, kissing her knee. That only Therese would make her cum.

“Oh, you delightful vixen,” Carol groaned, pulling her up. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Therese knew that teasing Carol would only come to bite you in the ass. Because if Carol couldn’t have her orgasm, she’d go above and beyond to have you begging for her instead.

And that’s how Charlie ended up on Carol’s lap again, her front against her back, legs spread over the armrests and Carol’s hand working vigorously against her swollen cunt. The redhead cried out, breathing heavily, and Carol’s other hand fisted in her mass of curls, pulling her head back so she could bite the fair, freckled skin of her neck.

Though her hands were sweating, Therese would not miss out on this image. The camera came back up and she captured the very moment that Charlie tumbled over the edge, lipgloss faint and smudged, her eyes open and desperate. She stared right into the camera, and Therese visibly shivered.

Charlie fell limp in Carol’s arms, the older woman holding her gently.

And then, “Therese.. I think it’s your turn. You’ve been waiting like such a good girl for a while now.”

“Is that card not full yet, with how many photos you’ve been taking?” Charlie added.

The two women quickly stripped the brunette of her clothes, her slim, lithe body practically glowing in the studio lights. Carol took her time to caress her skin like she always did, which Charlie took advantage of and struck a few million-dollar-prize photos of the two lovers. Therese didn’t know how experienced she would be with her camera, but she supposed everyone could click a button and take a photo. With Carol’s mouth swirling around her nipple, she was far too distracted to care.

Then a smaller hand came to rest between her legs, and Charlie was next to her. They traded places from before, so now Therese was in the chair and Charlie hovering over her again.

The redhead pulled one of Therese’s legs over her shoulder, stretching her delightfully as she sat back in the chair, and worked her fingers against her clit until she was wet enough to push inside. Then, as Carol looked on in wonder, she used the momentum of her hips to drive her fingers deep, kissing the brunette with abandon as she fucked her until the chair starting moving backwards from the motions.

Carol took a few photos, knowing they wouldn’t be as good as Therese’s but wanting to remember this nonetheless. Charlie’s hair tumbled down and was lit like fire in the lights.

There wasn’t a single ounce of regret in Carol’s body as she watched Therese cum and tremble in the redhead’s arms, her hand gripping the armrests until her knuckles turned white.

Charlie continued rutting against Therese, enjoying the slow motions and Therese’s soft groans. Every move still carried a shiver of pleasure for the two of them as Therese basked in the afterglow of her orgasm.

“C-Carol,” she breathed. Carol looked up, intensely, but Therese’s eyes were shut tightly. She then leaned over and whispered something in Charlie’s ear who lit up and immediately moved off of Therese’s body.

Carol cautiously walked over to the chair and Therese pulled her down for a kiss before pulling her to straddle one of her thighs.

Charlie was there immediately, facing their profiles and angled view with the camera. Carol looked a little shy- a little nervous, but Therese kissed her again and again, and then guided the blonde’s own hand down to her cunt that was moving over Therese’s slim thigh in desperation.

“Oh-,” she said in realization. Charlie grinned behind the camera, and clicked the button.

Carol shook, moving like an animal, her head tossing back, and then pressing into Therese’s neck, her body writhing until she spilled all over her young lover.

The last photo was that of the blonde and brunette embraced in the warm light, nude and sweaty, and perfect. Charlotte looked at it with gleeful smugness, thinking it must be the best photo out of the bunch.

After a few moments, Carol and Therese untangled and the three women helped one another get dressed.

“How about a meal? I’m starving after all that.. exercise,” Charlotte suggested, “plus it’s the least I can do. If you won’t let me pay for this session, let me buy us takeout, at least.”

“Oh, alright,” Therese waved her hand, blushing but smiling. Carol had wound her arm around her middle and kissed her cheek as they headed out of the studio.

“Best put that camera away, angel,” Carol suggested as they got outside. Therese was flicking through the photos that had just been taken, and she blushed once she realized she probably shouldn’t look at those in public. She’d savour them later, in bed with Carol, and add them to their collection.

taglist: @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k @the-obscurity

#carol #carol aird #carol movie #carol fanfiction #carol & therese #cate blanchett #rooney mara #therese #therese belivet #Carol Aird x Therese Belivet #carol aird/therese belivet #oc #carol x therese x oc #f/f/f #wlw #lgbt #merry writes #god i'm so gay #the price of salt

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artificialqueens · 3 years

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Galactica, Chapter 62 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: The assistant gossip network continued to do its thing, while Courtney lived her best life, Sutan offered Violet some wardrobe assistance, and Bianca planned a coming out.

This Chapter: The Galactica Holiday Party has arrived, and not everyone is prepared...

***

“Remember to find your light!”

Gigi turned her head, trying as hard as she could not to squeeze her eyes shut, the studio lights blinding.

“I said find it, not stare into the sun!”

Gigi blushed and moved her head again, doing her best to try and follow the instructions Sutan kept giving her.

They were in a photo studio in the Bronx, Gigi to get her first pictures for her portfolio taken, while Symone had practiced how to shoot in swimwear, her friend now waiting with her phone for Gigi to finish up.

Gigi had watched Symone move around, completely enthralled by how elegant the other model already was, Sutan barely correcting her.

“Straighten your back!” Gigi did as she was told, a pair of black jeans hugging her body, the long sleeved black shirt she was wearing clinging to her arms.

“Excuse me...” The photographer, who had introduced herself as Widow, looked out from behind her camera, “can I do my job in peace?” Widow smiled even though her tone was clearly sassy, her teeth blindingly white, her black box braids collected in a high bun. She was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans, big red earrings hanging from her ears.

“You know what I hired you for,” Sutan smiled back, and Widow rolled her eyes, making Gigi giggle.

“Yes sir, right away sir,” Widow teased.

“Don’t give the models any ideas with your attitude.” Sutan grinned, his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, refocusing on Gigi who had tried to hold the position he had asked for.

“No, not like, you have to be more.” Sutan moved his shoulders, and Gigi tried to copy it. She knew they were doing this shoot so she could get an idea of what she looked like, so she could train what Sutan called her inner photographer, but it was really difficult.

“No, still not right.” Sutan stepped on the set, getting next to Gigi, the scent of his cologne instantly catching her nose. “Your strength is in your lines Gigi, so you have to stand tall. Use those legs of yours,” He smiled, tapping his own left leg and moving it forward, mirroring what Gigi hoped she was doing. “Try this.”

Gigi moved her leg to copy Sutan, her entire center of balance shifting.

“There we go!” Sutan grinned. “Good job. Now hold it, and find your light.”

***

Violet tried to turn to the side, watching her profile in the big mirror on the back wall of the dressing room.

Her and Sutan had each been swept up by a personal shopper the moment they stepped inside Barney’s, Violet whisked away to the woman's clothes department where everything was outrageously expensive and completely new.

Violet was wearing a beautiful red dress, the hemline just off the floor, her cast barely visible if she stood completely still, which suited her perfectly well.

Violet had every plan to get to the Christmas party, sit down, and then hopefully not move again for the rest of the night, Jovan’s offer of bedazzling her crutches still making her shiver.

“So, what do we think?” Violet’s shopper smiled, the woman standing behind her, her pile of rejected dresses four times the size of the approved ones for the upcoming events, but she couldn’t help being extremely critical, not when everything was so stupidly expensive.

“Well…” Violet looked in the mirror. The dress suited her, even though it didn’t sit snugly at her waist, but that wasn’t something a loose loop stitch couldn’t fix so she could undo it again later and hopefully keep the dress longer. It hadn’t been Violet’s intention to lose weight, and if she was being honest, she had actually expected to gain with a broken foot, but it seemed like that hadn’t been the case, her appetite even worse than usual, her pain killers often making it feel like she had knives stabbing her stomach.

“I’ll take it.”

Violet knew that the dress would be approved by Fame, and loved by Sutan, the low neckline and the opportunity for matching underwear always a treat.

***

“Kat? Are you gonna be okay?” Trixie asked, voice soft.

They were sitting in a little cafe across from her doctor’s office. They’d just gotten the official news - she was pregnant, no doubt about it. She’d put on a transparently false, cheerful face while they were there but barely said two words since they’d left, a croissant and mango smoothie sitting in front of her, untouched.

According to the doctor’s best estimate, she was 14 weeks along, which already limited their options, a fairly invasive procedure now the only way to go if they didn’t want the baby.

She looked at him, blue eyes clear, and said, “I don’t know.”

Trixie nodded, taking her hand in his and holding it lightly. He didn’t want to push her too much, could tell that she was in a fragile state of mind.

“Well...I’m here if there’s anything…Anything I can do.”

“Got a flask on you?” she asked drily, then closed her eyes, immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, that’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny, babe.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, the two of them sitting side by side, their fingers intertwined.

***

Roxy looked up as Courtney rounded the corner from Miss Fame’s office, flashing her a bright smile. She had just gotten yet another delivery--Roxy was fast becoming BFFs with Greg, the Marie Claire office runner.

“Hey Rox! Whatcha got for me?”

“Hi, Court,” Roxy said, eyeing her suspiciously before handing over the bag, wondering why she was so perky today.

Courtney looked inside the bag and saw what Roxy had already - a large black velvet jewelry box.

“Open it,” Roxy said, and Courtney pulled it out, peeking inside before snapping it closed again. “Come on, you’re not gonna show me?”

A smile pulled at Courtney’s lips, and she leaned forward onto the reception desk, voice low, saying, “You wanna know something?”

“Yes, of course!” Roxy perked up. Was Courtney finally about to admit to her affair with Bianca Del Rio? It was gonna be a hell of a lot easier once she didn’t have to pretend to be in the dark anymore.

“You know how I said that I’ve been...uh...seeing someone who works at Marie Claire?”

“Yeah…you gonna tell me who?”

“Well, no,” she said, and off Roxy’s annoyed scoff, added, “But...we’re coming to the party tonight...together.”

“Oh really?” Roxy’s eyebrows shot up. This actually was pretty decent information, given the potential shit storm it could cause. The drama of Miss Fame’s assistant dating one of her best friends, and them showing up together to a company event? Absolutely delicious.

“Yeah, so...I guess you’ll find out soon enough,” Courtney said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I guess I will,” Roxy agreed, smiling placidly, already typing out a DM to Bob.

***

Fame breathed a sigh of relief as the car pulled up to the hotel she had chosen for the Galactica Christmas Party. The facade was decorated with dripping ice crystals, lights and fake snow making it the winter wonderland she had envisioned. The red carpet had been rolled out, guests already posing for photos and talking to reporters about their clothes, Fame recognizing the signature cameras from E! Network and one of Vogue’s journalists.

She had gotten the confirmation from Shangela that the string quartet had shown up, the musicians hired for the lounge area while the caterers had set up shop in the enchanted forest filled with actual pine trees, the bar carrying a line of gins specifically brewed for the event.

“So,” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, a curious expression on his face. The majority of Fame’s skirt was in her husband's lap since she refused to let the silk anywhere near the bottom of the car. “how are we feeling?”

“Me?” Fame smiled, leaning over to press a kiss against his cheek “Quite content.”

***

“Are you sure I can’t talk you into walking the carpet?”

Sutan looked over at Violet, the two of them on the bottom of the steps leading up to the hotel, Raja and Raven already halfway inside. Raja was in a tight-fitting emerald green suit with a deep cleavage, her hair twisted into a gorgeous updo, while Raven was dressed in a floor length gown in matching green, the two of them looking absolutely stunning together.

“Yes.” The message was clear, and Sutan could feel the tiniest curl of irritation in his stomach. Violet was beyond beautiful, her usually pink nails carefully painted the same red shade as her dress, a tiny purse slung over her shoulders, her black hair curled and spilling over her shoulders and back, her posture perfect even though she was leaning on her crutch, only one of them allowed to come along.

He wanted those pictures of them together, even if it was selfish.

“Lovely eyes-”

“I said no.” Violet’s tone left no room for argument, and Sutan pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath through his nose not to let his irritation win out.

“Sutan,” Violet reached out, gently touching his arm. “This isn’t a you issue, it’s a me issue. I’d love to go up there and be on your arm like a dainty little princess or trophy-”

“What?” Sutan raised an eyebrow. He had never thought of Violet as a princess, or even dainty, the muscles he knew she had and the iron will he had seen her possess over and over again so much more attractive than any trophy girlfriend could be. “That’s not what-”

“I know,” Violet squeezed, underlining her words, “But I’d honestly rather jump into traffic than talk to a single one of those reporters, and risk showing up in any of their publications.”

Sutan snorted, Violet’s dark sense of humor as always getting to him. He knew it also had to do with her relationship to her family, Violet’s choked hospital confession still rumbling around in his head, what little he had managed to piece together telling its clear story of a gossip magazine-obsessed mother, his girlfriend posing for his own mothers old canon camera at Thanksgiving without any issues.

“Okay, but promise me,” Sutan took a step, bringing them closer, his hand finding it’s now familiar place on Violet’s waist, “that I can get one soon.”

“A photo?” Violet raised an eyebrow, their hips almost touching, her free hand on his chest.

“Mmh, just for the two of us.”

“I’ll consider it,” Violet smiled, her fingers gently rearranging his tie, making sure it was sitting completely straight. “If you promise me that we can get a cab home.”

“A cab?” They had arrived with Raja and Raven, a driver coming back to pick all four of them up at the end of the night, “Why?”

“Because you, Mr. Amrull, look fucking fantastic tonight,” Violet looked up at him, a smirk on her lips, “and I wanna make out in the backseat.”

“You ready?” Bianca asked, looking over at Courtney as their car pulled up to the curb.

Courtney glanced outside, where a crowd of photographers and reporters were gathered, stomach seizing with the reality of what she was about to do, wondering if it was a mistake. Even walking the carpet with Bianca instead of taking the normal entrance with the rest of the support staff suddenly seemed audacious.

“No,” she admitted, looking back at Bianca apologetically. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Would it help if I told you how absolutely gorgeous you look?” Bianca asked, reaching out to take her hand.

Her outfit for the night was probably the most conservative of all the dresses Dan had pulled for her - a black dress--low cut, but not in a slutty way with a little bow at the front and full circle skirt, paired with a pair of Bianca’s beautiful multicolored Louboutins and simple, classy jewelry--including a glamorous strand of pink pearls that Bianca had sent over earlier in the day.

In spite of her nerves, Courtney couldn’t help but smile a little at the compliment, proud of the care she’d taken with her hair and makeup, hoping to make Bianca proud. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and responded with a cheeky, “Look who’s talking…”

Bianca grinned, and Courtney was once again struck by how fantastic she looked, in a red silk organza cocktail dress, the floaty feminine fabric accentuating her curves perfectly, a deep v-neck giving the perfect peek at her cleavage.

“What if we just stayed in the car for awhile?” Courtney suggested, fluttering her lashes.

“I promise to make it worth your while later, angel.” Bianca squeezed her hand, pulling her in close. “But right now, I’m pretty excited to show you off. So whaddaya say?”

Courtney took a deep breath, the churning in her stomach now a combination of nerves and excitement.

“Okay.”

Bianca signalled to the driver, who quickly got out and walked around to open their door.

“Here we go…” Bianca gave her hand one final squeeze and got out, giving the flashing cameras a polite wave before reaching back in to help her out.

Courtney’s mind was a mess. She suddenly had so many concurrent anxieties, like tripping on the carpet, or being dragged to filth by come gossip rag, or, given how lightheaded she now felt, fainting, here in front of all these people. She tried to steady herself, and Bianca’s arm slid securely around her waist.

“I’ve got you, don’t worry. You look amazing,” Bianca murmured in her ear.

Bianca led her down the carpet--a true professional, posing and smiling, calmly directing Courtney so that she knew where to stand and where to look, chatting jovially with reporters.

“Who’s your date, Bianca?” one of them asked boldly.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” Bianca joked back. They’d discussed this ahead of time - better to keep Courtney’s name out of things for the moment, given her job title. Courtney understood, and agreed, and was even a bit relieved. For now, on gossip sites and fashion blogs, she’d just be ‘BDR’s latest blonde,’ and she was very much okay with that. After all, the people that mattered to both of them would know, and that’s what she cared about.

“Well, is it serious?” another piped up.

“You tell me,” Bianca said, and then Courtney really thought she might faint, Bianca pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek as about a billion flashbulbs went off in their faces, murmuring, “You’re doing perfectly, angel.”

She turned to Bianca, gazing at her with breathless admiration, feeling like the luckiest girl in the entire world. And then she took Bianca’s face in her hands and impulsively kissed her, right on the mouth, soft but sure. So what if it was only a fling? Courtney didn’t care anymore--she would remember this high for the rest of her life.

Bianca smiled against her mouth and whispered, “Well, that’ll make headlines...”

“Oops,” Courtney whispered back, both of them giggling.

They broke apart, matching grins on their faces as they looked into each other’s eyes, until Bianca turned back to the sea of paparazzi, now in a frenzy, shouting out questions too fast for Courtney to even process the words.

“That’s enough for you demons!” Bianca called, gently pulling Courtney up the steps, giving one last smiling wave at the top, Courtney’s hand still clasped in hers.

“Are you done?”

“Nope!”

Raja hid her grin, her shoulder touching Raven’s as they posed for the camera, her fiancée radiating excitement as she chatted and flirted with the photographers.

Raven had always adored the camera, and if there was a journalist behind it, she was practically in love, getting caught by the paparazzi a treat for her each and every time it happened.

Raja didn’t feel the same thrill, didn’t care as much about showing up in gossip magazines and websites since she had gotten more than enough of that in her youth, but she couldn’t be truly upset when it generated so many great pictures, Raven often looking sexy as sin when she got caught leaving the gym.

“Raja! Over here!”

Raja turned her head, the photographer catching her attention, and that was when she saw them, Bianca coming up a little ways behind her.

Seeing Bianca on a red carpet wasn’t strange, but what was frankly bizarre was the familiar blonde at her side.

Raja had expected Fame’s assistant to be somewhere in the crowd, since it was a company party and a big treat for the staff, but what the fuck was she doing on the red carpet? The support staff was supposed to enter the party through the normal pedestrian entrance.

And then, Bianca put her arm around Courtney’s waist, kissing her cheek as she giggled girlishly.

Oh, fuck.

This was not good. Frankly, Raja wasn’t shocked that Bianca had been messing with Courtney, her behavior at the meeting last week making it painfully obvious that she liked her. But this, this was next level.

Just when she thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Raja witnessed something that made her blood run cold. Courtney grasped Bianca’s face in her hands and kissed her on the lips, causing absolute chaos from the group of paparazzi around them.

“Holy shit.”

“What?” Raven looked up at her, a concerned and confused expression on her beautiful face.

“Wait here.” Raja released Raven, leaving her behind on the carpet, prepared to ambush Bianca the second she got to the doors.

Bianca had done a lot of stupid shit over the years - they all had - and dating bimbos wasn’t a new thing for her, but making out with Fame’s assistant in front of the paparazzi?

That was a new level of braindead, even for her, and Raja had to stop it right now.

The moment Bianca stepped off the carpet, she felt someone grab her arm and roughly yank her into the lobby.

“Bianca!” Raja hissed, pulling at her arm. “Come here!”

“Ow!” Bianca laughed at Raja. “Let go of me, you fucking mountain gorilla!”

Just because the woman towered over her was no reason to be intimidated, and it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to bring her down at the moment than Raja looking at her like she was insane.

Beside her, Courtney let out a small gasp, and Raja tried to recover, putting an arm around Bianca’s shoulder and giving Courtney the most sugary-sweet, fakest voice she could manage to say, “Hey there Court, can you give us a minute? I have to chat with Bianca about something important. Great shoes, by the way.”

“Oh...yeah, alright. Um…” Courtney backed away, trying to give them some space. “I’ll just wait over here, then-”

“Perfect!” Raja dragged Bianca to the other end of the lobby, away from any reporters.

“This oughta be good,” Bianca grumbled, though she was still too hyped from the carpet to manage to be truly annoyed.

“What,” Raja pushed Bianca into a corner, inches from her face, her voice filled with venom though her eyes betrayed her geniune concern, “the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Bianca?!”

“Wanna be more specific?” Bianca asked, tilting her head, an impish smile on her face.

"It's bad enough that you're fucking Fame's assistant, but to parade her around on the red carpet? Without even bothering to give us a heads-up? Are you insane?" Raja’s teeth were clenched, clearly trying to keep her voice down.

"Please. Our relationship has nothing to do with-"

"Relationship? Are you actually calling this a relationship?"

"Yes!" Now, Bianca was starting to get annoyed. Who the fuck did Raja think she was talking to?

"Oy, this is so much worse than I thought,” Raja groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please don't tell me this is why you bailed on the tasting menu."

"So what if I did?"

"Oh god."

"Fuck you!"

"And what did you expect to happen, Bianca? What's your great master plan with this childish stunt?"

“Well...to be honest, I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me on the carpet,” Bianca admitted, a giggle slipping from her lips. “It was kinda cute, did you see?”

“I...am going to slap you.”

“Come on, Raj. I did give this whole thing a little thought.”

“Really? It doesn’t fucking seem like it!”

“Well, I have. Look, I know she’s gonna be pissed, but I also know she’s not gonna cause a scene in the middle of the party. And then after tonight, she’s got almost a full week to cool off before she has to see me again,” Bianca said, punctuating her statement with a charming smile. Bianca was no idiot. Of course she knew that Fame would be irritated, maybe even angry, but she figured that this was a situation where it would be easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. And besides, if she had to endure her friend’s wrath for awhile in exchange for being free to put her relationship with Courtney out into the open, then so be it.

“That’s what you think will happen?” Raja huffed. “Bianca, please, Fame hasn’t seen you guys yet. If we get Courtney out the back door, we can make an alliance with Patrick to get Fame drunk and unplug the wifi tomorrow so she doesn’t go online. It’ll be like it never happened, and we'll never speak of it again.”

“Raj, listen. I know this might be a real clusterfuck, but I’m willing to accept the consequences.”

“Oh jesus help me.” Raja groaned. “I hope she’s worth it, Bianca.” She pulled away, shaking her head. “I really hope she’s worth it.”

As she walked away, Bianca took a deep breath, looking back across the lobby at Courtney, who was doing a terrible job of trying to look casual, the anxiety on her face clear as day. Bianca sent her a big smile, reaching out a hand, and Courtney rushed toward her.

“Was she mad?” she asked, brows creased with worry.

Bianca cupped her face lightly, stroking her cheek, and promised, “Not at you.”

“Okay.” Courtney bit her lip, and Bianca leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“Shall we?” she asked, gesturing to the ballroom.

“Yeah...in a minute…” Courtney said, immediately adding, “I’m sorry.”

“Take your time, angel. There’s no rush,” Bianca promised. “In fact, if you’d rather get out of here and go somewhere else-”

“No, no, no…” Courtney laughed, taking her hand. “I’m fine. Let’s go in.”

9 notes · View notes

imaginethe-dragons · 3 years

Text

Boy With Luv (3)

summary: while maintaining your corporate office job at kim publishing house, you also have to try and balance your professional life with your love life. Can you keep both separated or will they collide?

pairing: eventual jeon jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, eventual smut, coworkers to lovers

warnings: suggestive themes, small bit of angsty jk at the end; as always lmk if there are any missed!

word count: 2.7k

part: 3

pronouns: she/her

part 2 here

"Y/n, it's seven," Joon said, standing behind you. At this point he was gonna push you out the door if he had to. You turned your head, but Namjoon was blocking your way back to your bedroom. So, you took a deep breath and moved to open the door.

"Y/n, your purse!" Taehyung exclaimed, running up to you with the small red bag that held your phone and keys. You smiled as you took it from him.

"Thanks, Tae. You're a life saver," you mumbled, kissing him on the cheek before pulling the door open to reveal Jungkook. He was dressed in what he would usually wear to work, a white dress shirt and black slacks. The only two differences was that he had a couple buttons of his shirt undone and his hair was slicked back There was a small curl that rested against his forehead. Long story short, he looked hot.

"Noona! You look beautiful," he smiled, holding out a bouquet of pink roses. You smiled, knowing that they can mean an innocent love, perfect for early relationship stages.

"Thank you, Kookie. Let me go put these in a vase. Come in," you smiled, opening the door so you could go to the kitchen, looking under the sink for your vase that your mom gave you. You couldn't find it in any cabinets.

"Y/n, what are you looking for?" Namjoon asked, peeking his head in. You looked up at him with murder in your eyes.

"I'm looking for my vase," you grumbled, standing on your tip toes to move some cereal boxes around. He visibly stiffened.

"You took it to Hoseok's when you moved in with him and I never saw you unpack it here," he told you.

"Okay, I'll call Hobi later. Can you take care of these for me until then?" You asked him and he was already reaching for scissors to trim the stems.

"You ready?" Jungkook smiled at you and you nodded. You waved goodbye to Joon and hugged Taehyung before exiting your apartment.

"Let me just text Hobi, and then we can get on with our evening," you smiled and Jungkook wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you onto the elevator.

"Take your time," he smiled.

"Think you can handle Jimin tonight or should I go tomorrow?" You asked Jungkook after getting a text back from Hobi.

"We can go by on our way to my place," he smiled, holding your hand as he led the way to his car.

"Who said we're going back to yours?" You giggled, just teasing him. You got into the passenger seat and buckled your seatbelt.

"We're not going back to yours with Taehyung there," he laughed as he started the car.

"Fair point." Jungkook rested his left hand on your knee as he began the drive to the nearby restaurant.

"You really do look beautiful tonight," he smiled, helping you out of the car. The compliment had your face turning almost as red as your dress.

"Thank you. You look handsome," you told him once you were sure you wouldn't stumble over your words. He rested his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the restaurant. The hostess perked up at the sight of Jungkook, but frowned when she saw you.

"Table for two please," he asked politely. She picked up two menus and led you to a booth. You slid into your seat, thinking Jungkook would sit opposite, but he sat right next to you instead. The close proximity made you turn red again.

"What can I get you started to drink?" The hostess asked, holding a pad of order tickets.

"I'll have a Coca-Cola. What about you, y/n?" He asked, focusing on you instead of anything else. You swallowed before deciding what answer to give.

"I'll be fine with water. Thank you," you smiled at the hostess but she just rolled her eyes. Jungkook pretended to stretch before his arm rested along the back of the booth, so close to resting on your shoulder that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"What do you think you want to eat?" He asked you, leaning in close to look at your menu over your shoulder. You turned your head to look at him with a small smile on your face, but his sudden position was a shock.

"I was thinking kimbap, what about you?" You asked, sliding the menu between the two of you so he could see more of it.

"I'm not that hungry, why don't we split kimbap? Or we could split kimchi?" He asked, trying to come up with ways to remain close to you.

"Sushi was your idea, so I think kimbap is the best option here," you nodded, closing the menu as a new waitress approached your table with two glasses.

"A water and a Coke. Are you two ready to order or should I come back?" The girl asked with a peppy smile and tone of voice.

"Just one order of kimbap with two sets of chopsticks please," Jungkook smiled as he ordered for the both of you. She nodded before walking away and Jungkook turned back to you.

"So, what happened to the dress I picked out earlier?" He asked, toying with the hem of the dress. His touch was electric and made goose bumps spread around your skin.

"It was a dress I bought for a party, not a date," you answered him simply enough.

"Now that I think about it. I wouldn't want anyone else seeing you in it," he whispered, ducking down so he could say the words next to your ear.

"Maybe some other time," you giggled quietly and he smiled wide.

"So, tell me how you met Hobi hyung," he suddenly said, pulling you into his side.

"You seriously want me to talk about my ex on our first date?" You asked, giving him a confused look.

"Well, if he's still in your life I wanna know," he answered, leaning back against the seat.

"I met him through Jimin. Hobi has been choreographing for him since a year after he debuted. Once I moved here for university I would spend my time doing homework in their studio until Jimin was finished with practice. Hobi asked for my number and then months later asked me on a date," you explained. Jungkook was watching you the whole time, tentatively listening to your every word.

"I never knew he was Jimin's choreographer," he told you. You nodded in confirmation.

"What other questions do you have, because I can tell you have more," you giggled at the way he was focused on the table now.

"How did you meet Namjoon?"

"I met Joon at BigHit who Jimin is signed under. He was there to pursue a career in producing. When I had told Jimin about it he put in a good word without having met him. So, Joon got the job as a result."

"So, Jimin's done a lot for you, huh?"

"Yeah, he likes to help wherever I let him," you chuckled. At this point, you see the waitress coming your way with food. The delicious aroma flooded your sense of smell as she set the plate in front of you and handing you each a set of chopsticks.

"Thank you," you both say to her as you begin to eat. Jungkook waited patiently for you to take the first bite.

"Now, how did you meet Jimin?" Jungkook asked.

"Well me and Jimin are both from the same part of Busan. We went to the same schools. And, unfortunately, our moms are best friends," you sighed.

"Why's that a bad thing?" JK

"Our moms had this fantasy of getting pregnant at the same time and hoped that their children would fall in love and make them in laws like some cheesy romance movie," you explained, poking at your next bite of kimbap. Jungkook frowned at this explanation.

"How does Jimin feel about that?" He carefully asked.

"We dated one year in high school, but it only lasted like two weeks. We just wanted to see if things felt right, but it didn't work out so we went back to best friends," you explained, laughing at the memories of that time.

"So you met Hobi and Joon through Jimin. How did you meet Jin?" He asked, knowing that you didn't end up at Kim Publishing House and got Chief Editor after only two years by accident.

"I was Jin's intern my last year of university. I met him through my journalism professor who had done nothing but brag about how much promise I had shown in her class," you said. Jungkook smiled at how eager you were to answer all of his questions.

"So, you're just well connected?" Jungkook chuckled, sipping from his drink. You nodded with a small smile on your face.

"I'm just glad that the job part was all on my own. Jin was giving me high praise when he read my articles from my uni's newspaper. I had a whole portfolio ready to go around to different newspaper and magazine companies but he offered me a job the day I graduated, just editing new authors and stuff like that. I was getting work done ten times faster than anyone else on our floor. The Chief Editor at the time was pushing towards retirement and had been giving me all of his work so Jin phased him out and gave me the job," you explained further, telling Jungkook about the year you had worked before he started at Kim Publishing.

"Where do you think you would've ended up if you didn't work at Kim Publishing?" He questioned.

"Probably Min Press. I had an interview the day before Jin offered me the job, but Yoongi was the one who interviewed me so I instantly turned it down when Jin called me," you told him. You went back to eating but Jungkook was frozen with rage.

"Well, I'm glad you took that job otherwise we'd never have met," he said, being completely sincere. Your heart fluttered and you turned away to hide the increasing blush on your face.

"Aw, don't hide your face, Princess," he cooed in your ear, making you giggle as you turned back to him.

"Shut up," you smiled as you both went back to eating, sharing laughs here and there.

You two sat for about an hour, just enjoying be in each other's presence. The last of the kimbap was forgotten on the table as Jungkook was currently telling you a story of him and his brother from when they were younger. It had you in a fit of laughter because of how vivid you could imagine it.

"And our mom just walked in and we both froze like we had our hand in a cookie jar," he laughed as well.

You both sat there for almost two hours, just telling each other anything and everything that has yet to be known in your relationship. You observed that Jungkook chooses to listen and observe more than he likes to offer his input. It was quite endearing. He asked many questions about your early childhood, trying to understand the Y/n you were before you had met. What he didn't expect though, is that you were a shy little girl who only ever talked to Jimin. He thought you to be outgoing all your life like the first time you had ever met. Over desert you discussed more of Jungkook's life before you met. It was nice to finally hear him gush about his life in Busan before meowing to Soul. His eyes were lit up like Christmas lights.

As you both finished your shared food, Jungkook told the waitress that you were ready for the check. She nodded and walked away for two minutes before bringing the black book back. You went into your wallet to at least pay for half, but Jungkook held your hand as he already slid his card into the booklet and returned it to the waitress.

"Kookie," you whined as she walked away.

"Never thought I would have you whining this early, Princess," he whispered in your ear causing you to turn crimson.

"Here is your card, sir. Have a nice evening," the waitress smiled at the both of you. Jungkook tucked the card back into his wallet as he stood from his seat, offering you his hand.

"I be,I've we have a vase to go pick up," he smiled. You held his hand as he led you back to the car. Once again, he opened the door for you and you smiled. As he began to drive, he rested his hand on your thigh, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. The movement caused goosebumps to settle over the area.

Jungkook parked near the BigHit building where Hobi's practice studio is and you could see his and Jimin's cars across the street. You began to get out and so did Jungkook.

"You don't have to come in," you told him.

"I know, but I want to," he shrugged, walking around the car to hold your hand. You led the way to the practice room and could hear some of Jimin's music playing from inside. You opened the door without knocking.

"Y/n/n!" Jimin said excitedly as Hobi paused the music. He ran up to you and wrapped his arms around you.

"Yah! Jiminie, you're all sweaty," you exclaimed, your face twisting with disgust. He pulled away and looked down at you.

"And you look beautiful. Where'd you go?" He asked as he took a sip from his water bottle.

"We went to dinner," you answered, gesturing between yourself and Jungkook. Jimin almost spat out his water when he registered what you said.

"Hey, here's your vase," Hobi smiled, handing you the piece of pottery. You carefully held it as you gave him a peck on the cheek as a thank you.

"Is that all you came here for?" Jimin asked, pouting in the process. You laughed at him which caused him to roll his eyes.

"Kookie bought me flowers and this is my only vase, so I had to swing by to grab it on our way home," you explained.

"Well, if the date is over, you wanna come listen to some new tracks I've been working on?"Jimin asked with a smile.

"The date isn't over yet," Jungkook cut in, causing Jimin to look over at him instead.

"Another day Jiminie okay? I'll take a look at your book Monday, maybe swing by the practice room?" You suggested, trying to appease your best friend.

"Yeah okay, that's fine," he huffed, turning to go back to his practice time.

"Party at my house Friday, you in?" Hobi asked as you both watched Jimin.

"Party at your house every Friday. Is it bring your own alcohol?" You asked, but he just chuckled before wrapping an arm around you instinctively.

"When is it ever," he answered.

"Thanks for the vase Hobi, but we have to get going," you told him, patting the hand that was around you.

"Okay, I'll see you around," he said, walking back over to Jimin. You turned to leave but Jungkook wasn't anywhere to be found. You walked out the way you came in and found him leaning against his car.

"What are you doing out here, Koo?" You asked as you approached him.

"You looked pretty cozy with Hobi," he grumbled. You rolled your eyes at his words. Even when you were just friends, Hoseok had always showed his affection physically even before you were dating. Hugs, wrapping an arm around you, maybe even a snuggle here and there during a movie night. It was just natural for the two of you at this point.

"Koo, there's a reason we broke up. If I wanted him, I would still be with him," you explained to him. You gave him the truth but cut out the reason why it had ended with Hoseok.

"Do you mean that, Y/n?" He asked, looking at you with tears brimming his eyes. It made your heart ache to know that just seeing someone else's arm around you made him this upset.

"Of course I do. Why don't we go back to my place so I can put the flowers in the vase," you smiled, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

~~~

thank you guys so much for reading! i apologize for the short chapter but i haven’t felt up to adding more so i just decided to post this now. 💜

tag list: @religious-pizza-roll, @fangirl125reader

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts au #bts #jungkook x you #jungkook #eventual relationship #eventual smut #fluff #hoseok #yoongi #seokjin #namjoon #taehyung #jimin #coworkers au #coworkers to lovers

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hollyxqx · 4 years

Text

LOVER, LEAVER // JIMIN // 04

↪ PAIRING: Reader/Park Jimin (initally reader/Jungkook) ↪ SUMMARY: There’s only so much cheating you can take from your boyfriend when he’s on tour before you take matters in to your own hands. ↪ WORD COUNT: 8.4k

↪ WARNINGS: mentions of addiction/drugs | smut w/ premature ejaculation lol | there’s a DUI (don’t yell at me these are the laws where i live) | angsty people being messy

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | FINAL

Namjoon has become a semi-permanent feature around the apartment lately. It's a good thing, even if at times there's an awkward passing of each other in the hallway or moments of slightly uncomfortable silence.

There's been no apologies exchanged between the two of you since whatever that was one month ago in Hyerin's living room. Not that you wanted to give one or particularly receive one, but you would settle for the stiff politeness you exchange for Hyerin's benefit. He was meeting you halfway, effort equal to yours.

Not much else had changed in those thirty days, aside from your renewed contact with Jimin. It's tentative, hesitant, almost shy even like you don't know each other as well as you do but it's truly a welcome intrusion into your days. Perhaps Jimin's slowness is because he doesn't want to scare you away again.

The topic of Jungkook has yet to come up. You feel as if it's inevitable and dread it.

Jungkook is on your mind nearly daily, whether you like it or not. Since the night Hyerin had told you he was in one of the most inebriated states of his life he had barely been in contact with any one of his regular group of friends, occasionally you'd hear dribbles from Hyerin that he was okay but you were familiar with this pattern. You were worried. An underlying sense of doom twisted your insides whenever his face appeared in your thoughts.

You're not made of stone, even if you wish you were. Two years of affection don't vanish in the blink of an eye, and you always will want him to be happy. He might be telling his friends he's doing (and Hyerin quoted) fucking amazingly right now, but you know that's a lie he's telling himself.

When you see Hyerin for the first time that day you practically all but squeal with excitement, her tiny bump protrudes her slim figure now, nearly five months gone. It's been a few days since you'd last seen her in person and you swear she's grown already. She walks slowly into your shared place after staying with Namjoon for the last few days. He follows behind her.

The first thing you do is bombard her in the doorway, hands instantly going straight to her bump. "God y/n, you're obsessed." She laughs, playfully annoyed but her hand joins yours when there's a flutter as the baby rolls as you coo.

"I swear you've literally grown in the last 5 or whatever days." You tell her, marvelling at her stomach. It's the first time a close friend of yours has been with child and keeping up with her progress has been exciting.

"Well, all we mostly did was eat, didn't we?." She looks to Namjoon who nods silently. "That might be me growing, not baby."

They come inside and you make yourself scarce, disappearing to your own room to give them some space, and well, avoid Namjoon.

Lately much of your time has been spent looking for graduate work. It's unfulfilling and you've yet to find anything substantial but it keeps you occupied. You sit at your laptop and scroll endlessly. Eventually your eyes start to burn and water with the strain of staring at a bright screen to long, followed by an accompanying rumble of your stomach, which means it's definitely time for a break.

You open your bedroom door and listen for a few minutes. It's silent which means you'll likely be undisturbed. The faint sound of a television can be heard but you're sure it must be the one in Hyerin's room, so you head to the kitchen.

As you pass the living area you see Hyerin sleeping on the sofa, head resting on Namjoon's shoulder while his arm drapes lazily over her. You can only see the back of his head so you have no idea if he is awake or not. You don't hang around to find out.

The kitchen is pretty bare these days since your roommate has entered the nausea phase of her pregnancy and is still deciding what makes her sick and what doesn't. You settle for toast. It's not exciting but it's quick.

"Y/n?"

You look to the sound of your name, surprised to find Namjoon standing behind you. He looks as uncomfortable as you feel. "Hey..." You saw slowly. You sound awkward trying to pretend to be chill. "Um. Do you want some food?"

"No." He says. "Thanks."

The silence hangs like a lead weight. You silently scream at him just go away, neither of us wants this!

"I wanted to," He begins. Then coughs. You wait. His eyes look at anything but you when he tries again. "I wanted to apologise to you."

Oh. You're not sure if this is much better than the awkward silence. "That's alright, honestly." You dismiss.

"It isn't. I've been thinking a lot about what you said." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at his shoes. You feel like you're on a hidden camera show or something. You've never seen him act like this before. He's practically shy at this point. "About this baby not wanting me."

"Namjoon," You sigh. "I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I was just upset and feeling protective about my friend."

"No, that's not what I mean." He shakes his head. "You did mean it. But it's okay, I fuckin' need to hear it."

You just stare silently at him.

"I mean, you could have said it a bit more kindly." He jokes, trying to relieve the tension. You offer him a small smile. "The sentiment was true, and I had never thought about it like that until you laid that truth bomb on me."

"Oh." You hear yourself say.

"I had a dad who didn't give a fuck about me, y'know?" He scratches the back of his neck and looks away. You could swear he was blushing. "Didn't want me and bailed on mom the second he could. If he were to come into my life now, I'd tell him to get lost. Hated that guy my whole life, yknow. I don't want a kid to feel that way about me, ever. Wasting their entire life resenting me." He takes a deep breath. "I just wanted to say thanks, I guess."

You guess your words were part of the impact on the recent change in his behaviour. You hadn't intended them to be but you're glad they did. The toast you were making pops and both you and Namjoon jump a little.

"You don't have to thank me." You leave the bread where it is. "I'm sorry I was so rude about it."

"I'm sorry I called you a bitch."

"I kind of was."

You both laugh a little. Tension relieves slightly and the awkwardness isn't as palpable anymore.

"Things are going well," He states, referring to Hyerin. "I don't know what's going to happen with me and her, but I'll be here for that kid no matter what, which I guess is the important thing."

"This might sound insincere and I promise it isn't, but I think that's really honourable of you Namjoon."

He shrugs the compliment off, but looks a little happy nonetheless. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your food."

Just as he's about to leave you want to take advantage of the moment and ask about Jungkook. You call out to him and he freezes looking at you expectantly. You almost bottle it and lose your nerve. "Is...is Jungkook okay?"

His entire face changes, expression unreadable. "He's alive, if that's what you mean."

"That's not what I mean."

"Y/n," He lets out a long breath. "No. No he's not okay."

"Is there anything I can do?" God, you feel so guilty and so helpless.

"I don't think there's anything any of us can do right now." Namjoon says sadly. "You can't help someone who won't help themselves."

On that note, he leaves the room.

***

The latest job interview feels like it went well, but so did the last three. You don't pin any hope on it as you walk to the subway, portfolio under one arm, empty paper coffee cup in the other. It gets tossed in the bin at the station. You learned your lesson the first few times; don't get too excited. Although it's hard not to when you want something so badly and it feels within your grasp.

At this point you don't mind working for free, you still have your job at the restaurant. Some money for your hard earned degree wouldn't be unwelcome however.

You sit on the platform waiting for your train, feeling uncomfortable in your outfit. It's very corporate - heels, pencil skirt, blouse. Not very you at all but the interviews require it. According to the electronic information board your train will be here in 4 minutes. Your leg shakes impatiently.

You happen to turn your head at the exact moment Jimin steps on to the platform. His painting studio is nearby which you conveniently forgot, it makes sense for him to be here. You're the one on strange territory, not him. Still, it's a shock to the system. It's been three months since you've seen him in person. His hair is darker, the sandy blonde gone and he's a little leaner; but it's Jimin.

He spots you and slows down momentarily. He's as surprised as you are.

"Hey." He breathes when he reaches you.

"Hi." You smile.

He gestures to your portfolio with a nod of his head. "How'd it go?" Earlier you'd told him through text your plan for that day.

"We'll see." You say as you shrug. "I don't want to get my hopes up."

"Don't worry, I'm sure it went well." He assures with a warm smile. You think he looks as good as ever. "Are you headed home?"

"Yeah." You say. "I can't wait to get out of these clothes. I'm done being secretary barbie for today."

Jimin laughs. "I kind of like it." You give him a sceptical look. "What?" He grins, shooting his best innocent glance. You shake your head. "Listen, y/n, do you want to grab a cup of coffee?"

"Now?"

He nods.

You have nothing better to do, so you agree.

***

It's not strange being with Jimin like this. Which is strange in itself. You anticipated some awkward tension after so many things were unsaid, uncertain and unclear but there was none. He was just Jimin. The same sweet, kind man you'd met two years ago, let into your bed and then proceeded to break his heart. You're not sure if he's selfless or just a glutton for punishment.

He tells you work is great, better than it's ever been which makes you happy. He's talented so it's not a shock but a welcome surprise. He's recently moved to a bigger apartment that he loves. He even thinks he's ready for a pet, although you're sure that last part is said slightly in jest.

You fill him in a little more on your life, texts exchanged you can only say so much. Jimin gets an update on Hyerin which makes him smile. You tell him about Namjoon - the argument and subsequent apology. The only topic left is Jungkook. It feels like Jimin senses it too because a tension seems to form.

"So..." He says.

"So." You mimic.

He licks his lips. "How is everything...else? Are you still single?"

"Yes, I am." You almost want to laugh at the way he asks the question.

"Me too."

"Are you prying about Jungkook?" You tease.

"Kinda." He laughs. "I didn't know how to bring it up since we were having a good time."

"It's ok." You offer him an encouraging smile. "I haven't seen or heard from him. You?"

"Actually yeah." says Jimin. You raise a brow in surprise. That was unexpected. "A few texts here and there that are erratic to say the least. Sometimes he hates me, sometimes he's sorry. It's kind of worrying actually."

"Namjoon kind of alluded to the same sort of thing. He's worried too."

Jimin nods solemnly. "I always try to reply as best I can, just so if something - touch wood - bad, happens Jungkook knows that door of communication is still open. But he never really responds to me. Just texted more incoherent thoughts." He lets out a long sigh. "Even though we were both shitty friends to each other, I've known him too many years. I have to be there for him no matter what."

A few moments of contemplative silence pass. The coffee shop is rather quiet at the moment, the only other people in the small cafe is a teenager, nose buried in a laptop and a couple in the corner. The boy has shaggy black hair, and is holding onto his girl like she's a prized possession. Sadly, it reminds you of Jungkook during happier times, he always was a little possessive but in a charming way that made your heart swell when you saw him.

You're not entirely sure what to make of the information you've just received. At the very, very, very least, you're glad that Jimin is still there for his friend regardless.

"In spite of all that I'm glad we ran into each other today." You say as lightly as possible. It makes Jimin smile.

"I am also. I've wanted to ask you to meet up so many times but I knew you wanted space." He blushes a little. "I'm glad fate intervened."

"I think it was better this way, actually."

You finish your coffees and Jimin walks you home. His arm occasionally brushes against yours as you walk. When you reach your building the two of you pause in front of it. You wonder if he's going to kiss you and it makes your heart thud wildly. The jury's still out on whether you even want that or not.

"Thanks for walking me home."

"No problem."

He stares at you for a beat. "Can we do this again?"

"Coffee? Uh sure." You reply, slightly confused. He shakes his head.

"No. Or yeah, whatever you want. I just want to see you again. Maybe...like a date?" He gives you such a hopeful yet promising look that's so endearing it almost physically hurts. You open your mouth to reply and as if he anticipates that your about to refuse him he hurries out, "We can take it really slow. No pressure. Just spending time together."

"Alright," You agree, softening. "I'd like that."

Jimin leaves, looking as if he just won a prize of his own.

***

You smile as you remove your jacket and shoes at the front door, mind still entirely occupied with thoughts of Jimin. Your quickly brought back to earth by the voices of Namjoon and Hyerin. At first glance it doesn't appear as if they're arguing but one look at Hyerin's face and you can see something is most definitely up.

"Hey..." You begin cautiously, looking between them.

"Hi." Hyerin strains a smile. "I expected you much earlier. How'd it go?"

She means the interview. "Good I think." You look hesitantly at Namjoon. "I ended up bumping into Jimin, actually."

You wait for judgement to pass across his face but he remains stoically blank. Thank god.

"Oh," Hyerin seems surprised. "Ok."

"What's going on? There's a weird mood in here guys." You ask after a tense moment and silence.

"Jungkook." Namjoon answers with a sigh. You tense immediately.

"What's happened?" You ask, fearing the worst.

Namjoon shakes his head. "He keeps showing up to recording sessions drunk. Or worse. I'm worried."

You're worried too.

***

Inexplicably, the first official date with Jimin is a little awkward. Which is odd, because the accidental crossing of paths a week earlier wasn't in the slightest. Maybe it's because it's officially labelled as a date now, you don't know. Either way, you know he feels it too, stretched silences drawing on a little too long between you.

At the end of the night you allow him to kiss you. It's brief but familiar. You knew you missed the physical side of a romantic relationship but kissing him showed you just how much. As you lay in bed that night, the sensation of the kiss not entirely gone yet, you have to sternly remind yourself that you're taking it slow. You're too used to giving into your desires when you're around him.

The second date is far better, both of you overcome whatever hurdle caused the uncomfortableness in the first one. Jimin treats you to an over priced but amazing meal at a top end restaurant. It feels so grown up, you're not used to dates like this. Jungkook was the first real boyfriend you'd ever had, and his dating style was a lot more casual.

You never exactly had an official first date with Jungkook. Most of the time you spent together involved getting naked together in his apartment enough times that you became a couple. Sure, you went out together but it was mostly to parties or bars. That's just who he was and you accepted that.

The third date Jimin brings you to his art studio. It's an unusual setting for a date, but you go along with it when Jimin promises there's a surprise in store. His eyes twinkle and you can't help but feel a little excitement spark in you. It's an intimate, private piece of him to share with you and it feels special. Different.

His studio is where he does his creating. It's a reasonably large white space that's littered with paint splashes, tarp that protects most of the floor, and works in progress propped up on easels. Although Jimin looks out of place now dressed smartly in slacks and a button up shirt, you can completely imagine him hard at work in here.

"Stop being so coy," You whine impatiently and Jimin chuckles as he strides determinedly across the vast space. You watch, unsure what you're allowed to touch or not touch. "I like surprises but I'm too impatient for the suspense."

"Well, you're just going to have to deal with it." He informs you, before disappearing inside a door on the opposite side of the room.

You gaze around the room as you wait for him to return, absorbing all the visible artwork. There's a lot of rustling before the sound of a crash resonates and Jimin swears.

He truly is talented. No wonder he's been so successful as of late. Your eyes land on a particular work. It's a brightly coloured butterfly, except it's done in watercolour and he's allowed the rainbow paint to drip and run down the canvas. It's beautiful and you wonder why he hasn't sold it yet. An egotistical part of you speculates that it might be inspired by you, given the affectionate nickname he has for you.

When Jimin returns he's holding a canvas against his body but the painted side is facing away from you. You wonder what on earth he's up to.

"Sit." He instructs, pointing to the chrome stool at his desk. You give him a puzzled look but comply anyway. "Close your eyes."

"Jimin - "

"Shush. Now close your eyes."

You sigh and do as he asked, clasping your hands in your lap whilst simultaneously feeling a little ridiculous. There's some shuffling and scraping of metal on the floor and even with your eyes closed you can sense that he's switched some of the lights off. "What are you up to Jiminie?" You ponder aloud.

"You'll see."

You sense some movement behind you and you can tell Jimin is close to you. His hands rest on your shoulders as he leans down to whisper, hot breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. "Okay. Open your eyes butterfly."

You're met with an image that sucks the air out of your lungs. It's you. Jimin has painted you.

Except it's not you. Not regular, every day, flesh and blood you. Painting you is bold and vibrant, he's captured you in a way you've never viewed yourself. The image is clearly based on your face, except you appear more like some mythical fairy. There's flowers woven into your flowing hair that's much longer than yours, covering your naked chest. The only colours on the canvas are red and some pink.

"Jimin..." You begin, attempting to search for the right words that convey just how overwhelmed you feel. His eyes bore into you expectantly. "This is incredible. You're so talented! It's me right?"

He laughs. "Of course its you."

"You made me look beautiful, I almost didn't recognise myself." You admit, blushing. "No one has ever done anything like this for me before. Why did you paint this?"

"You've kind of been a muse to me for a while now." He confesses.

"A muse? Me?"

He nods. "Yeah...it's kind of embarrassing. Ever since the first time we met you've always been a source of inspiration. So thank you, I guess."

"Why me?" You blurt. "I'm just so ordinary, I wish I looked like this." You gesture to the canvas.

"It's more than just how you look, you know. You're beautiful, of course, but you're strong and tough yet still somehow soft enough to be kind, even when people don't deserve it. Not all strong people have that in them y/n but you do."

"I don't know what to say." You whisper, swivelling round to face him.

"That's why I chose the colours I did. Red for the passion and fire within you, and pink because you're sensitive and compassionate. I felt that it suited you."

"I don't deserve you, Park Jimin." You tell him as you pull him in for a kiss. "You might be the sweetest boy I've ever met."

"You do deserve me."

He kisses you fiercely, cupping your face with his hands. The angle is a bit uncomfortable as you're still sitting whilst he's standing but you don't care. The rush of affection you feel for him right now is the only thing on your mind.

"I love the painting." You breathe against his lips. "Thank you."

You separate, albeit reluctantly but he locks your hands together. "This is my one creation I won't ever sell. I'm going to hang it somewhere, maybe my gallery so everyone can see it. I just needed the inspirations approval first." He smiles.

"You more than have it. I'm so lucky I have someone so talented in my life."

Standing now you lock arms around his neck and kiss him slower and deeper than before. Jimin's hand at the small of your back presses you flush against him. His hand slides lower and lower until he's giving the plump flesh of your ass a rough squeeze. It's too easy to get carried away and you badly want him to take you then and there.

He groans pulling away, biting your lip as he does so. "Taking it slow, yeah?" He asks breathlessly. "Does that mean no sex right away?"

"That's probably for the best..." You can't help but kiss him again. You remember how good it felt and it takes everything not to say fuck me against the wall. "There's time."

He presses his forehead against yours and smiles. "Whatever you want, butterfly."

***

Hyerin is at the point of her pregnancy now where her maternity leave has began and days are spent nesting and preparing for the upcoming baby. Preparations unfortunately (and sadly, for you) include her moving into Namjoon's apartment with him. This means two things. One; things are still on a good track for the couple and you're glad and two; you now need to find a roommate, short of getting a fabulously paying job within the next few days.

The painful silence on the employment front is enough to make you uneasy but you're always sure to wear a brave for your friend. She has enough to worry about, you think, and you know the decision to move out wasn't done lightly or with malice either. Hyerin even offered to help you find a new roommate but you waved her off. Read: enough to worry about.

You continue with the job search and fruitless interviews and plough forward, facing no other choice. On the last day Hyerin and you will be living together you both agree to go shopping together. She needs a few more items for the baby and you well, you need a distraction from life for a few hours.

Aimlessly you stroll around a mall that's a forty minute drive away, Hyerin's recommendation because she wanted somewhere with aircon since lately she's been uncomfortable almost all the time. Even though she complains multiple times about her size on the journey you still she thinks she looks great.

She shows you pictures of the newly decorated nursery and your heart warms. Hyerin doesn't have to verbalise it outright, you know she's extremely excited. When you enter a baby clothing store she's cooing and aw'ing over every tiny item and ends up buying more than she wanted to. She looks at you at the checkout and shrugs, as if to say oh well.

"How's Jimin...?" She asks coyly, peering at you out of the corner of her eye. You hold the door for the makeup store open for her and she waddles through. She's aware you've been seeing him, but neither of you have had much time to catch up on details.

"Good. Great." You can't help the smile that stretches your lips.

"You're happy." She informs you and you nod. "I wouldn't put you two together but now that i've seen you with him, it makes sense you know."

"I like him." You cock your head. A year ago you might agreed with her but the more time you spend with him the more you enjoy his company.

"I've never spent much time with him, but I trust your judgement. Would it be strange for the four of us to spend time together?" She hums, swatching a lipstick on the back of her palm, before frowning at the color.

Your stomach twists at the thought. "Maybe in ten years when everyone's forgotten what I've done." You joke. "Namjoon is Jungkook's bestfriend. I wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable."

"It's a shame you started like that."

"Nothing's official."

"Yet." She counters.

You offer a non-committal hum, still unsure if that is exactly the route you want to go down with Jimin. It's easy now, just to see where it goes and take things slowly.

Bored of shopping and after only buying one dress for yourself (that you weren't particularly excited about, but felt the urge to treat yourself regardless) the two of you make the mutual decision to grab a bite to eat. You're more than happy to let Hyerin choose the venue.

She scrolls lazily through her phone while you wait for the food to arrive. You have a text from Jimin sent forty five minutes earlier telling you to have a nice day and you smile at your phone, warmth radiating in your chest.

"Oh my God."

You look up at Hyerin's voice. She has a hand over her mouth and her eyes are wide as she stares at the screen. Instantly you know something is wrong. Fear immediately prickles at your skin, anticipating a problem with the baby.

"What?" Panic is at the edge of your voice. "What's wrong?"

She hesitates and it only serves to worry you further. "I hate that I am the one to show you this but..." Nothing more is said when she slides her phone across the table to you. Frowning you squint at the device, open to a webpage.

Jungkook has been arrested.

Time feels completely frozen as you scroll, reading as fast as your eyes will allow. Your heartbeat is thrumming, uncomfortable and loud in your ears as you try and absorb as much of the information as the article had written. In the middle of the page their was a tacky tabloid picture of him being roughly escorted by police, hands linked behind his back with cuffs. It's even more unfortunate that this was such a public affair.

You swear under your breath at the reason he's in this position, the glaring words taunting you. Drunk driving and disorderly behaviour.

"Are you ok y/n?" Hyerin asks cautiously.

"No." A hot tear splashes on her phone and you wipe it away quickly. "This is bad. It says he's in hospital. Right there at the bottom."

"What for?"

"Apparently he caused an accident and ended up injured. It doesn't give details."

You share a look across the table of fear mixed with worry. Silently you slide her phone back to her. You had anticipated something bad happening as a result of his drinking but not this. Jungkook was a public figure and it pained you to see him immortalised like this. It pained you to know he had taken his recklessness to a new level. It pained you that all of this was happening.

"Let's eat quickly and then go home. I'll call Namjoon and see if there's anything we can do." You friend tells you gently, knowing you well enough to know you won't be able to sit still for the rest of the day. Maybe there was nothing you could do but you could try.

***

"He asked for you."

You stare at Namjoon, astonished. Those were the last words you expected to leave his lips. Standing at your doorway, looking as worried as you felt he patiently waited for your reaction.

"He hates me." The first thought that enters your mind slips out before you can stop it. Namjoon shrugs.

"I'm just the messenger."

Everything about this feels like a bad idea. Your entire body tenses, as if on high alert. Jungkook wants to see you. He could have called you but he didn't, which makes you feel apprehensive. He wants a face to face, which to you, feels like a horrible scenario waiting to be played out. The last time you met in person did not go well.

"I'm on my way now, if you want to join me." Namjoon jingles his car keys at you for emphasis. The idea of not being entirely alone with Jungkook feels slightly more tolerable.

"Fine." You offer reluctantly. He spares you a few minutes to get ready and gather your things before the two of you head to the hospital together.

When you had phoned Jimin a few days prior to share the news it was no surprise to you that he was already aware. You wondered if he had been to visit Jungkook or had plans to, or if Jungkook even wanted that. You don't voice this aloud to Namjoon.

It's mostly quiet in the car and you stare out the window, hoping Namjoon doesn't feel uncomfortable. There's no tension between you anymore but you're not exactly best buds forever. He puts the radio on and you're thankful it eases the silence.

"What do you think about rehab?" You ask, still looking out the window. "For 'Kook. Do you think he needs it?" You clarify.

"I would love it if he went." Namjoon sighs, out of the corner of your eye he grips the wheel a little tighter. "Maybe this will be a wake-up call for him."

Hyerin had told you that Namjoon had been completely sober since they had agreed to try and be together for the sake of their unborn child. It had surprised you to an extent but Namjoon had never been as bad as Jungkook, never appeared as if anything was a problem (not infront of you anyway) and apparently he had no issue maintaining a sober life these days. Jungkook always did do everything better than everyone else.

Anticipation brings a slight tremble to your body as you trail behind Namjoon on your way to Jungkook's hospital suite. He agrees to go in first to tell Jungkook you're here. Your knee shakes when you sit on one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs outside the room.

Every second that passes as you wait feels achingly slow. The low voices of the two men rumble through the thin wall but you can't make out exactly what is being said. You're not sure if you want to. Maybe you could run, it's not too late.

The door clicks open and Namjoon gestures for you to go inside. He doesn't follow.

Jungkook lies in a white bed in the center of the room, propped up on a few large soft pillows. The first thing you think when your eyes land on him is that he doesn't look good. He's thinner and bruised from the accident. "Hi." You whisper for some reason. The room feels too quiet.

"Hey, come sit." He croaks hoarsely, gesturing to a chair next to the bed. His eyes follow you as you cross the room and you feel awkward.

You don't know where to start. "How are you?" It feels redundant but it's the best you've got.

"Battered n' bruised." He smiles but it's clearly forced. "Thanks for coming."

"I was surprised you asked for me. But I'm glad you're okay. Pictures of your car were online. It looked wrecked."

He shrugs. "It's worse than it looks. Modern cars are actually pretty safe. Just a few broken ribs but I'm golden."

Jungkook rubs tiredly at his face, stifling a yawn. There's a new tattoo on his hand. You wonder if there's more. "Don't take this the wrong way but I thought you would be in jail."

"I was injured so they took me here. I have a trial in a few weeks. Probably will just get a DUI." He explains. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this but I've wanted to for a long time. Thought you'd take pity on me and visit."

"It's not pity that brings me here. " You say quietly. He's staring at you so intently you can't meet his gaze for much longer and opt to stare at your lap. "I care."

Jungkook reaches for your hand. Confused, you go to take it but stop for a moment. There's undeniable injection sites in between the blue black ink of his tattoos. He's been shooting up. What you don't know exactly but you know taking anything intravenously means things are bad. You take his hand, albeit shakily. You say nothing about what you noticed.

"I'm in trouble baby." He says. You've never heard him sound so vulnerable before. Your heart positively aches in your chest. "I'm in so much trouble."

"What's going on with you Kook?" You press, squeezing his hand.

"I think I'm out of control." To your complete and utter despair he blinks away a few tears. "I could have killed someone just because I wanted to get fucked up."

"You've always liked to get drunk Kookie..." You say joylessly.

"I don't know when it went from getting drunk to have fun and this. It's not fun anymore."

"It was so stupid of you. So stupid." You sigh. "You are better than that."

"I want to be."

He's gripping your hand so tightly, so desperately you die a little inside. He's broken. "You can get help, there's professionals who are trained to help people exactly like you. All you need to do is take it."

"I want to." He whispers.

"Do it." You are almost begging. "Just. Do. It."

"I'll get Hoseok to look into it for me. Take some time off and sort my head out." He offers you another smile but it's somber. You hope more than anything his words are genuine. Not much else is said between you, other than you offering whatever support and reinforcement you can give.

You hold his hand until you leave, kissing him on the forehead before you go.

***

Jimin strokes your hair absent-mindedly as you lay together in his bed. Your head rests on his chest as you scroll through your phone whilst he watches television. It's so sickeningly domestic, it surprises you how much you enjoy it. You find yourself googling rehab centre's in the area for Jungkook. It's not much but you want to help.

Something Jimin's watching makes him laugh and you peer up at him. "I love this show." He smiles when he notices you looking at him. "You should watch it with me."

"Yeah, in a minute." You mumble, going back to your device. You're composing a few links to send to Hoseok, even though as Jungkook's manager he is fully capable of doing it himself you just want to ensure Jungkook has the opportunity to consider all the options possible.

"What are you doing?" He asks. "It must be important to have captured your attention like this. Job searching?"

"No. I'm looking at rehab places for Jungkook."

"Oh." Jimin replies quietly. He understands why when you explain to him that you went to visit Jungkook. There's an arduous history that comes along with dating you, he knows that. In an ideal world, there wouldn't be but you think he likes you enough to put up with it. You hope. "That's nice of you."

"It's the least I can do. I'm giving Hoseok a list and then I'm all yours, babe. Hold on."

With a heavy sigh you put your phone on his nightstand and snuggle into him a little more. You hook one of your legs around his waist, as if you can't be close enough to him. His hand grips your thigh and holds it there. "Do you want to stay tonight?" He hums. Since you've rekindled things you've yet to actually spend the night together. Tonight you don't want to be alone.

"Please." You reply.

Sensing you might need it, Jimin swoops in for a kiss. Having not had sex yet every time you kiss lately it seems to get real dirty real fast. Neither of you show much self restriction now. It's almost too easy to slide over so you're lying on top of him, knees pressed into the mattress either side of his narrow hips. His hands grip your ass outside of your clothes, encouraging you to grind against him. It doesn't take him long to get hard from this.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if you're the last girl he's been intimate with. A possessive part of you hopes so but the thought goes as quickly as it comes.

Jimin has been so patient with you, so it's your turn to take the lead and let him know you're ready now. Breaking away from his lips you sit up, crossing your arms across your torso, pulling your shirt up and over you head. He watches you, dreamy and glassy-eyed as if he can't quite believe what's happening.

"You sure?" He breathes, eyes drinking in your newly exposed chest.

"Positive."

Resuming the kiss, his hands explore your body, feeling every inch of you. He quickly snaps your bra off and you help him slide it down your arms. You whine when his hands cup your breasts, thumbs grazing your nipples. You're extra sensitive there anyway but going a long time without being touched only heightens the sensations. Jimin keens at your reaction and grins against your lips.

"Mm, you like this." He whispers, tweaking one of the hardened buds. You only moan your agreement, rutting against him. Feeling how hard he is against you only makes your stomach lurch with arousal.

"Touch me Jimin, do anything you want. I've missed this." You tell him desperately, already feeling a little light headed.

"Fuck," He says wet mouth against your neck as his hands slide underneath the back of your leggings. "Take these off."

You roll on to your back and quickly wiggle the clothing down your hips while Jimin whips his own shirt off. He's on you in an instant, using his hips to push your legs apart. You're barely focusing on his sloppy kisses over your chest because you're too busy trying to get his pants off. He laughs at your failed attempt and his breath tickles.

"Get naked." You demand. "We've waited long enough."

The belt he's wearing slides through the loops on his pants and hits the floor with a thud. Briefly he stands to kick off his jeans and you can't help but ogle the outline of his hardness through the tight grey boxers slung low on his hips. Naked skin on skin makes you feel almost drunk when he's back in your arms. His body is warm and familiar and god, so soft you melt into him easily.

You're hot all over from his touch. His hands consume your body as if it's the first time he's every touched you and wants to explore everywhere.

The time for teasing can wait. You're already gripping his impossibly hard length underneath the material of his underwear, slowly stroking him up and down. He hisses at the contact.

"Do I need a condom?" Somehow there's still a rational part of his brain functioning right now, despite the handjob. Truth be told, you'd forgot that little detail.

"No, tested right after Jungkook."

"I'm still clean." Jimin assures you.

"Good."

He slides down the bed, ungracefully struggling out of his underwear. You bite back a laugh. He's adorable. "Can I eat you out first?" He pleads, already hovering dangerously close to your cunt. You agree eagerly. His beautiful mouth was always fantastic between your thighs.

Jimin's tongue drags through your wet lower lips from top to bottom and you shudder involuntarily. Lately you've been so busy you don't even remember the last time you'd masturbated so his touch is nearly overwhelming. It takes a few cursory experimental licks before he finds his rhythm again. You fist is hair keeping his head firmly in place so you can roll your hips against his face.

He pulls away so quickly you think somethings wrong. "Jimin - "

" - I need to be inside you, now. The friction of my cock against the bedsheets was already getting too much." He laughs, crawling over you. His cock slides against your dripping, now aching, pussy and you groan. "I haven't had sex since you." He whispers, face hovering over yours.

Your hands grip his shoulders while he glides into you. The stretch is a little much at first and he stills for a minute, watching your face for any reactions after seeing you wince. "Okay?" He murmurs, nosing your cheek and peppering a few kisses across your skin.

"Okay." You repeat. "Fuck me." You whisper running a thumb over his plush lip. You can't help but gaze at his face, eyes blown out. He's gorgeous in such a delicate yet sexy way. "Please."

He slowly begins to move his hips, in and out, in and out, in and out and your eyes flutter shut with pleasure. All you were thinking about was how perfect he feels. Your legs fall open a little wider and your back arches against the bed. "Yes, Jimin - right there - god."

His breath is hot against your skin from exertion. He feels so good, filling you up like this. The more he works his hips the better the stretch is. You claw at his ass, encouraging him to go harder.

"Oh, shit, shitshitshit." He moans loudly, driving into you forcefully. He stops for a moment and you look at him, expecting him to rearrange your position or maybe he wants something different. His eyes are tightly screwed shut and his head hangs, as if he's in pain.

"...Jimin?"

"I'm sorry."

You're lost. What is he sorry for? Then it dawns on you.

"Did you just - "

"Yeah."

He's embarrassed and he avoids your gaze. This has never happened to you before, you've heard the stories of guys coming too quickly but thankfully had never experienced it. Until now. You try not to look too upset at the loss of an orgasm tonight because you can already see how annoyed with himself Jimin is. "I'm sorry, it's been a while and you felt so good...and yeah. Fuck this is embarrassing."

His now softening cock slips out of you and you can feel the tell tale sign of his release being to leak out. "Hey," You pull him down to you, and reassuringly kiss him. These things happen. You hadn't expected to last long either. "It's okay. Don't worry about it, next time will be better."

"I wanted our next first time to be unbelievable." He shakes his head, burying it into the crook of your neck with a frustrated groan. "Let me at least make it up to you now."

He props himself up on his left elbow as his right hand makes it's way down your body, over your bellybutton and straight to your neglected center. Languidly circling your clit with the pads of his forefinger and index you sigh in pleasure. "Do you want my mouth, butterfly?" He licks your neck up to your jaw, kissing the side of your parted mouth.

"I've got your cum in me." You huff, feeling a little self conscious and well, gross. You can't imagine that will be an enjoyable experience for him.

"I don't care." He's already moving down your body before you can protest further. "Want to feel you cum on my face."

"Jimin." You whine, trying to close your legs.

"Shit, ok. Hold on." He tells you, jumping up from the bed and disappearing into the adjoining bathroom in all his naked glory. Puzzled, you can only watch and anticipate his next move. He returns with a washcloth and gently cleans you up.

"You are so freakin' cute sometimes." You grin, unable to quite comprehend his thoughtfulness. Your heart clenches. No guy has ever done anything like this before for you. Although it's not a major display of affection, or even a big deal really, the simple gesture reads; I want to take care of you.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." He shrugs. When he's done he disposes of the cloth and before he can resume eating you out you grab at him, crashing your lips to his.

"I like you so much." You mumble against him.

"I like you too."

Jimin kisses you slowly for a few moments more, hands wandering down your ribs before gripping the flesh of your thighs. He spreads them once more, before shifting so he's in a more advantageous position. "Can I? Now?" He breathes. You nod.

When he licks into you, your eyes flutter shut and you allow yourself to just enjoy it. His thumbs rub circles on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. He keeps his eyes trained on you, reading your body language. "Ji-min," You breathe. "Want your fingers. Fuck me with them."

The bed creaks as he shifts to comply with your request. Two fingers slip inside you as you clench down, Jimin moans against your clit. Your hips start moving of their own according, rocking against his mouth. When you cum it's so intense you almost sit up completely as your muscles contract. His hands anchor you down.

"Oh my god." You exhale, panting.

"I'm hard again." He laughs. "So sexy." He murmurs, kissing all over the inside of your thighs.

"You wanna go again?"

"If you do."

When Jimin fucks you again he's spooning you from behind, a hand curled underneath your thigh to hold you open for him. He peers down and watches his cock disappear inside of you, moaning at how wet you are. This feels like heaven to you. You clutch his free hand and lock your fingers together.

He cums with a loud groan against the back of your neck. Sweet praises are whispered in your ear as he holds you tightly to him. "You're my favourite, butterfly."

You tenderly look at him over your shoulder. "You're my favourite too."

***

Spending time with Jimin makes you feel like you're floating with pure, unwavering happiness whenever you leave him. He's so sweet and generous - you feel safe with him. Jungkook might have destroyed your ability to trust easily but Jimin is unknowingly building it back up for you. It might be because it's not what he says, it's what he does, all to let you know he cares.

When you leave his place the next morning, full of the breakfast he's made you (with coffee; he remembers how you like it - milk and no sugar), you catch yourself smiling unconsciously several times. You'd feel ridiculous if you weren't so happy.

There's a few moments where you feel guilty for being so elated, worrying about Jungkook. You make a mental note to contact Hoseok in a few days to check in. Hopefully Jungkook is in rehab by then, or at the very minimum taking serious steps towards it.

Home feels empty without Hyerin now. You need to find a roommate, and soon, but the idea of replacing her isn't one you're ecstatic about. She suggested her friend Taehyung, the person you'd met once when he was roped into helping you move. He might be your only hope at this point.

Your phone chimes as you settle into you room. When Namjoon's name appears on your screen it brings a frown to your face, he texts you so infrequently it can only be bad news. Your heart begins to race as you swipe the message open.

from: namjoon jungkook's disappeared from the hospital. He was supposed to be discharged today and no one can reach him. I know you care about him still so i thought you'd want to know. Let me know if he calls you ok?

You swear loudly as you re-read the message. If you know Jungkook as well as you think you do him leaving the hospital without telling anyone was an escape. You appreciate Namjoon reaching out but you almost wish you didn't know that information. Jungkook is in trouble and there's nothing you can do.

MASTERLIST

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