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har-rison-s · 9 months

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whatever you need | coryo snow x fem!reader

a/n: don't mind me, just eating pomelo and writing smut. i daydream about this piece every and all work day i have rn, it's pretty unhinged bcs i'm working as a gift wrapper for the holiday season and just staring ahead thinking of.... things. i'm technically an atheist, but i would need forgiveness for those thoughts. ANYWAY JEEZ. this took me like four days, help. i'm so insecure abt my smut writing, tho so ooohhh god am i actually dreading posting this. i'll just publish and run away from tumblr for a week. happy reading

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word count: 7.2k (sawrry)

themes: smut

warnings / disclaimers: smut, unprotected p in v, brief mutual masturbation, cum eating (SCREAMING), fingering, crying, ENJOY jsdfjhsadsd

gif credit goes to owner <3

something strange was happening in the arena. something was being done to the camera feeds that were supposed to livestream every second of what was happening in it. only because something seemed to have gone wrong in the games y/n was stuck to the television screen in her living room slash lounge. her parents were called into urgent work in district three a few hours ago, so it was only her and some of the maids in the house. they kept to themselves, though, and were probably asleep in their quarters at the mansion’s far-end wing. except for the main housekeeper, who was adamantly guarding the entrance of the house, in case anyone came by.

her parents were counting on someone coming by - with the way she was recently behaving at school and with the rebel bombs, they were real worried about her well-being. she was always alone at home, because there was no one to bring home. except the dean, but he came by himself and only to serve his usual scolding and threats about y/n’s rebellious nature and behaviour at school. her parents hadn’t felt such worry for their daughter as they felt now since the war days.

what soothed her mother’s worried heart and mind was the presence of the maids and the housekeeper. y/n appreciated their staying around and liked hearing noises made by someone else in the mansion, even if it was only a far-away creak of floorboards or a door closing. but she didn’t need anything from them, ever, she’d been very independent since her early childhood, and maids seemed like such an excess right now, an even backwards concept for y/n. her family employing them, unable to live without them, made her feel like the rich princess everyone deemed her being.

y/n had felt fine being home alone until the feed from the arena turned strange. darker, blacker, and the audio seemed warped or otherwise manipulated. she’d caught sight of a familiar figure entering the arena – who was that? how did he get inside? who can tell... – and then the feed changed. there was nothing much she could see, but her eyes had been glued to the screen of her television for the past half hour, anyway. all the while she was straining her eyes to try to see who it was, and at some point that figure was joined by another by Sejanus’ tribute Marcus’ bruised and wounded body, and then the feed darkened nearly completely.

she sat in her sofa in an embryo pose, blanket over her stressed form, covering her back and the bare feet and legs that the knitted bedtime jumper couldn’t. she realized the gamemakers or the Capitol were trying to hide something, nothing else could explain the feed changing and audio going wobbly and earning static in the process.

the bell ringing at the front door startled her so bad that y/n gasped and jerked in her position on the sofa. her head whipped in its direction and she watched two figures entering her family’s mansion from the far end of the hallway. she could already tell who the two were, but she remained sat on the sofa, her legs unmoving out of anxiety. she shut off the television and just watched them walk towards her through the unlit hallway, arms wrapping around her knees underneath her beloved blanket.

“ms y/l/n, a mister Snow is here, for you,” the housekeeper announced as she and Coriolanus entered the living room, Coriolanus stumbling into the room more than walking into it. he looked like he was falling to pieces. his breath was heavy, hair and academy uniform in disarray, face just... bewildered. y/n nodded at her housekeeper, extended her arms towards Coryo like a child reaching for its favourite toy and sniffled quietly.

“thank you, Nora,” she told the housekeeper, “please leave us. you can go to bed, i won’t need anything else for the night.” she said in a hushed voice and the housekeeper nodded, knowing to listen to the child of her employers. y/n hated giving anyone orders, much less this spectacular lady, but she did want to be alone with Coryo. and by the look of him, she could tell he couldn’t be around anyone else but her. he was a man of privacy, after all.

as soon as Nora shut the door behind her and left for the maids’ quarters, Coryo accepted the plea in y/n’s extended arms and stumbled over to her on the sofa. “i—i’m sorry,” he said the first words out of breath, in a voice so broken and frail that y/n’s lips twitched downwards and she felt the need to cry, “i didn’t know where else to go, i couldn’t... i couldn’t f-face anyone else...” as he sat down before y/n’s bare feet peeking out from the blanket, she noticed in the poor lighting of the room that his clothes were dirty. there were cuts in his shirt, dirt, gravel, sand... blood.

“what happened?” her voice wouldn’t go any louder than a whisper, and her lips were turning into a pout as she looked Coryo over, her meek hands reaching out for him but unsure whether she should touch him or not. he could fall apart like the frailest glass, it seemed, if anything touched him right now. his face was bruised. there were small cuts on his cheek, blood on his chin. she noticed how they had already been taken care of.

Coryo still took heavy breaths, but finally he felt like his vision was real and not fooling him, and he took in his surroundings. the dim lighting in the posh room, y/n’s bare feet touching his red academy pant leg, her legs pulled up to her chest under a cute throw-blanket in the pastel colour of chocolate milk, her small hands reaching out to him, unsure, unsteady. he lifted his head to look at her, and the expression on her face made his heart lurch in his chest. her glassy eyes – no doubt matching his –, the pout on her lips, her rosy cheeks, eyebrows scrunched in worry and confusion. he could never decline that face. “dr Gaul sent me inside the arena to get Sejanus out,” he finally said, and he spoke in a whisper tone that could only be meant for secrets, “but the tributes heard us... i’m not sure i should even be telling you about this at all,” he admitted.

y/n shook her head. “your secret’s safe with me,” she assured with a gentle nod.

“yes, but dr Gaul—” Coryo began, but she interrupted him in the voice of a faint whisper.

“i know how terrifying she is,” y/n persisted, “she won’t know that i know.” she said even quieter and looked, really looked, into Coryo’s eyes, and nodded gently again at him. he searched her eyes for a few seconds, weighing the risk of her knowing this, trying to decide if he should tell her more or just cut short here. but really. she’s a loose end and she knows it. it’s not like dr Gaul was in high thoughts of y/n or deemed her more valuable than any other student, and her nature played a big part in that opinion of the young girl. how would she know that y/n found out about this night in the arena? she wouldn’t. it would never come up in conversation. y/n wasn’t part of this.

“the tributes heard us,” Coryo started to say as he sat closer to y/n, his body turned to face her, and almost loomed over her. he’s always been much taller than her, and sometimes that played a part in their dynamic. he took her hands in his above her bent knees and the blanket. he licked his lips and y/n searched his eyes, his... stoic blue eyes. there was a change in them, “they came after us and i...” he shook his head, “i didn’t want to hurt him,” Coryo’s voice broke and his head dropped onto y/n’s covered knees.

she heard a sob from him, and it shook her entire form, making her gasp quietly. she’d never seen him cry before. the night on the rooftop, in the garden, she knew he was close to it, but she knew he’d never let his pride down so much that he’d let anyone see him cry. and Coryo didn’t feel so good about crying now, about opening himself up to her like this, he felt disgusted with himself. but he also couldn’t stop. and he couldn’t hide everything from her, after all.

y/n shuffled around until her legs were tucked under herself and she moved closer to Coryo, taking his scarred cheeks between her small hands and lifting his face up so he would see her. she knew she made him nervous usually, but she calculated that that effect flipped around on itself when he was in this state, or one similar to this. breaking apart. feeling vulnerable. beaten down. she looked into his eyes and he back into hers, not really having any other choice. she had this compelling power over him, even if he didn’t want to admit it, and he didn’t want to hide from her. not really.

his breathing slowed down as he just looked into her wondering beautiful orbs, full of so much determination, courage and kindness. she was almost smiling at him, even though she wanted to cry, too, and her eyes were glassy with produced tears, but she wanted to appear strong for him. because right now he really needed a strong anchor to hold onto, he was the one in need of support. y/n took that role mainly in their friendship-relationship, especially at school, when she got herself in trouble, or at home, when her parents were giving her an earful about her irresponsibility and all the jazz they usually gave her an earful about.

last time Coryo and y/n saw each other, she realized he had the ability to ground her. and now she realized she had the ability to ground him, because by looking into his eyes she could see his emotions and mood changing by the second. and all because she’s holding him, and he’s looking into her eyes. he didn’t need much more than that.

and yet maybe he did. he didn’t know which part of him had the urge, but all of him acted on it by ducking forward and kissing her on the lips. he could taste the sweat she had made on her lips out of stress, and the blueberry tartlet she must have had as a late snack not too long ago. and his hands couldn’t keep away anymore, either, they were taking hold of her face like hers was holding his cheeks between them. y/n would have gasped at his sudden action if she had any air to breathe, and she sighed heavily when he did give her a split second of air after fiery kisses to her delicious lips.

he kept his eyes on her as he pulled his academy blazer off and threw it to the ground beside the couch, then came back closer to her, one hand on her cheek and the other pulling the adorable blanket off her legs. y/n placed a palm on that hand of his, which made Coryo furrow his eyebrows and look at her with puzzled eyes. didn’t she want this, too? she gulped, eyes averted from his shyly. “i’d rather we talked about it, Coryo,” she admitted and looked back at him carefully, eyes so un-knowing and yet more clever than most people’s. Coryo tilted his head slightly at her words.

his hands took the bull by its horns, pulling the blanket fully away and welcoming the night air of the mansion upon y/n’s bare legs, making her gasp again. Coryo used the moment of surprise to his advantage and pushed her down on the sofa, sneaking in between her legs like the slippery mastermind he was, and he slid a hand under her knitted jumper, raising goose-bumps in his wake across her stomach and waist. y/n hated that she felt aroused, meaning she felt exactly how he wanted her to, was right where he wanted her, but she couldn’t exactly pull away. she hated being at someone’s mercy, but.... it was Coryo.

she surprised him when he found she wasn’t wearing a bra under her jumper, nothing was standing between his greedy hands and her naked breasts now, though her not wearing a bra at home wasn’t exactly a surprise. it’s just that his inexperienced self was shocked to find a part of her naked, and right there, at his disposal. watching her face, he placed his palm over one of her breasts and ran his thumb over her nipple, which hardened immediately under his touch. and her face, oh, the expression on it was to die for. eyes softly shut, eyebrows gently spasming as she was feeling something very new to her, her teeth biting her lower lip, cheeks turning more red and no doubt burning up. Coryo placed a kiss on her bare stomach, just above the elastic of her underwear, and watched her still as she whimpered for the first time. her thighs fidgeted around him, feet unsurely digging into the soft cushions of her couch—she really didn’t know what to do with herself and these sensations she was experiencing.

“i’d rather we didn’t,” he said to her finally, though his actions were more than enough of a response to what she said, but she hardly heard him now. there was a gentle static in her ears, and heat all over her writhing form. her pure, supple, untouched form. all for him to touch, to explore. Coryo took his shirt off in a hurry, as if y/n might disappear if he had his hands off her for a second longer, and returned to her half-naked body a hungrier man. hands raking the insides of her thighs, he kissed her again, hot lips making their conversation just moments ago seem like the far past, making her almost forget it happened. y/n could hardly feel her legs, though she knew this was just the beginning, and she wrapped her arms around Coryo’s frame and held onto him as he moved his slender torso against her chest. she could feel the bones of his hips jutting against her own, his growing crotch pressing against her panty-covered soaking cunt, teasing her, making her pant heavily and whimper like a kitten.

having her like this satiated the hunger that rose from the deep hole he’d created inside himself, gnawing at him like a big black hole with eager, starving claws. every stroke of his hips against hers beat the monster down but dangled the bait in front of it at the same time, leaving him in quite the paradox. this was more than enough, yet Coryo knew he could go further with y/n, further than enough, and that she’d let him. everything in him wanted to, and he couldn’t stop himself. adrenaline was pumping blood from his heart into his veins, she was available and the only one who could help with the hole growing inside him.

but y/n couldn’t go further without another word spoken. he was avoiding her question, he was avoiding the whole last hour of this night. “Coryo,” she whispered softly as his lips kissed at her neck, tongue sweeping over a particularly bruised-with-kisses spot on her sculpture-like skin, he was an animal let loose. and his affections almost made her forget what she wanted to ask, and she thought maybe she doesn’t really want to know. but y/n sighed, trying to clear her mind, “tell me what happened,” she plead in a quiet voice and it made Coryo raise his head and look into her eyes again.

he framed the side of her face with only a hand, his thumb on her chin and the rest of his palm splayed across her burning cheek. he loved seeing the look of lust and confusion on her face, in her eyes most of all. the pads of his fingertips softly pushed into her skin. “no,” he remained stubborn, and y/n would have been surprised to have him do otherwise. she gulped softly, hoping he wouldn’t feel it, but no, he felt every motion any part of her made now. his mind came up with a new idea as he slid a hand of his across her stomach, making a wave across her supple body, and then he reached her underwear. he knew, like everyone else did sort of matter-of-factly, that women were to be touched there. he knew it was the spot in her with which he could get her full attention. and he also knew he’d have to fabricate having experience in this field for y/n. he didn’t want her to think him inexperienced, which he was exactly, or least of all that he’s experimenting with her—which was also what he was doing. so he improvised by cupping her warmest place in the body, and he felt an immediate reaction. her thighs fidgeted around his waist again and her stomach lurched. her eyes shut, but he wanted to see them, “open your eyes,” Coryo urged her, and y/n had to force herself to comply, her beautiful eyes looking into his again. they held eye contact as he ran his middle finger in a straight line between her clothed folds, and he watched as her face contorted, caused by the new strange and pleasant feelings. she felt like warm honey on his fingers, “right now all i need is to feel you,” he told her and did the same motion with his finger again, only this time slower, making it pleasurably agonizing for her, coaxing quiet whimpers from her lips, “and this tells me you need it, too.”

god, she hated that he was right. at first it was want, she wanted him to stay over, to touch her, to feel her, to do things to her that no one else had ever before. now, she felt so desperate for it that she felt she could explode if she didn’t get what seemed to be promised to her. the want grew to need. she wanted to shake her head, wanted to push him off—that would really be characteristic to her. but instead she brought herself to really look into his eyes and nod in response. Coryo’s lips almost made a smile or a grin, almost, she caught the ghost of it in the corner of his lips before he kissed her again. “alright, Coryo,” she whispered against his lips, “but if you don’t touch me properly right now, i willkick you out of my home.” she said surely, admitting to her desperation without shame and in turn – with pride, and now Coryo grinned. her feistiness was one of the things he liked about her, and it coming out in this setting was more than he could have asked for. in a weird way it got him going.

y/n placed both of her hands on the sides of his face and kept him close to her as he reached his hand into her underwear, breaching into unexplored territory. she was all the warmer for him, and soaking wet. he hummed, their lips nearly touching, but not completely. it was torture for him. he wanted to devour her lips, her whole face, her whole existence. her lips were like the food of life for him, the sounds she made music to his ears and air in his lungs. “you’re just perfect for me,” he confessed to her in a shudder and y/n smiled lightly. his fingers ran through her naked warm folds, just testing the waters, until they found the opening between them, where the wetness and warmth were seeping from. Coryo would have dropped his head onto her shoulder if her hands weren’t holding it up right, but he just felt like he lost his damn mind at how incredible her walls felt around his fingers, and he could collapse right there on top of her.

“Coryo,” she sang his nickname in a beautiful moan when two fingers prodded inside her, beating any expectations she had about this beforehand. they were long and thick, touching every inch of her, it felt like, and reaching just far enough. she was barely holding onto him, and her body was reacting to his touches immediately. hips moving, back arching, thighs squeezing his body between them, breaths shuddering.

“no one’s done this to you before, have they?” Coryo asked, but he hardly needed an answer. by the way she was reacting, he could tell that she’d never felt like this before. y/n shaking her head at his question was merely the last dot on the confirmation, yet it still made him more aroused. knowing he was the first one to do this to her, with her. he grazed her upper wall with his finger pads, being careful not to let his nails scrape her, and it brought a moan from her that he’d never heard anyone make. guttural, coming from the very depths of her lungs, her vocal cords, from her very core. it made him shudder. he repeated the motion, slower one time, then faster the next, all the while watching her reaction. he loved seeing her eyes shut, her cheeks become redder, her lips parting, stretching, pushing breaths and whimpers out from between them. Coryo felt one of her hands sliding up into his hair, and he groaned. her hips bucked and she grabbed onto his perfect curls between her fingers when he reached farther inside her with his two fingers, and it made them both moan into each other’s mouths, y/n letting his lips rest over hers. he’d reached that great point inside her, feeling her hot and spongy against his digits. it’s almost like she was sucking him in. “you’re so good for me,” Coryo told her and y/n whimpered at the praise.

“more, please,” she begged with no shame and Coryo obliged, picking up the pace of his fingers and massaging over her folds with his thumb all the while. when he accidentally grazed over her clit, y/n made a high-pitched moan of the utmost sensitivity, and he knew he’d done the right thing. and by accident, no less. he was on the winning team, “Coryo,” she cried with her eyes shut and he noticed a tear on her cheek, kissing over it immediately. next his lips were on hers again, lapping at her tongue with his own like the starving man he was, knowing nothing of tomorrow or the next hour, just so engulfed in her that he knew nothing else. she was the perfect getaway.

he could feel her body behaving in a different way, thighs trembling around him, walls squeezing his hand in, hands nearly powerless, chest shuddering. she wasn’t far off her release, he guessed. with another press to the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her cry, Coryo once again watched her reaction in amazement. but he didn’t want to feel her release like this, he needed them both different. Coryo pulled his fingers away, once again making y/n cry out, this time in the most desperation she could manage, and she looked up at him with pleading, tearful eyes. he offered her a gentle smile and moved down her body, dragging her underwear with him. down her legs and away, the light pink garment went, and y/n bit her plump lip in anticipation as she watched him.

Coryo tucked her underwear into the trousers of his academy uniform that he was still wearing and returned to her body, laying kisses across her thighs on his way up to her. y/n squirmed under and around him, mewled, muttering his name in a mewl here and there, relishing in the feeling of his lips on her untouched skin and his hands roaming all over her body, under her jumper, over it, trying to cover every inch of her. she hated that he had stopped touching her right when she was closest to that one sacred edge she wanted so badly to reach, he was teasing her, taunting her, testing her waters. it was clear to her that he had never done this to another girl before. Coryo was just like her, and yet he’d put up a different façade.

he dug his fingers into the flesh of her naked hips, which made y/n throw her head back into the sofa cushions, baring her delicious-looking neck to Coryo. he used that to his advantage, licking and kissing at the skin of her neck which he had already bruised marked with his lips just moments ago, he was devouring her with a hunger only she could really satiate, and yet he couldn’t get enough of her. his growing crotch pressed against her bare cunt, and y/n gasped at the feeling. eyebrows scrunched, cheeks and lips red and puffy, she looked up at Coryo again, and he returned the gesture. he took one of her hands in his and guided it down to between them, where he was growing harder and in size, it seemed, watching her face all the while and taking notice of her biting down on her lower lip in anticipation. Coryo made her feel him through his trousers, and he couldn’t hide the effect her touch had on him - shuddering throughout his whole body, eyelids fluttering, he was barely able to utter the next words, but he did so in a quiet voice. “feel what you do to me?”

y/n nodded with lustful eyes, hungry like the wolf for the boy above her. her boldness came back and with it y/n unzipped Coryo’s custom-made trousers and reached into his boxers to really feel him. he had girth and he was solid, she could feel that all with her hand on him. she was making him a panting mess, giving his length a sure stroke, Coryo’s head falling into the crook of her neck and him moaning, though she knew the piece of his pride that died for him to do that. he hardly let anyone see his inner world, his true feelings, so for him to be this vulnerable with her took a great deal of courage. “do i make you... feel like this often?” y/n asked quietly, and Coryo nodded with a whimper as her finger flicked over his tip, pink and sensitive. y/n wrapped her fingers around his shaft and stroked up and down, slowly, looking at his face all the while, wishing she could see his beautiful eyes now, see the emotions swimming around in the blue of them.

Coryo fisted the pillow right beside her, heavy breaths leaving his parted lips, “yes, yes, yes, god, yes,” he chanted in her ear as the pace of her strokes grew faster, and y/n could feel each breaths in his lungs against her own, his chest rising and hitting against her so intensely. she’d made him crumble beneath her so quickly, it surprised her, “i need you, y/n, i need to feel you,” Coryo confessed and managed the strength to raise his head and look at her again. he was too afraid to utter the phrase i need to be inside you, feeling just too shy all of a sudden to say that. the look on his face was pure desperation, he looked like he could start crying the next moment, and y/n’s heart lurched in her chest at seeing that. seeing and recognising that she could make him as desperate as he’d made her. that she could make him small, “no one’s ever made me feel like this before,” he confessed more, breaking his own façade down, and y/n smiled at him sheepishly. she knew, of course, that what he said was true. she knew everything about him.

“you have me,” she assured him and brought him out of the confine of his boxers, making Coryo breathe in relief. he had felt so restricted in his own clothes, “but god, Coryo, will you fit? you feel too big in my hand,” y/n said shyly and bit down on her lip again, a habit that Coryo had noticed her having for quite a while now, and he looked down between them two. y/n knew her comment went straight to his growing ego, but she just couldn’t resist teasing him a little. and when he caught onto it, he looked at her again, with a smile on his lips this time. she grinned wide and giggled before she took his face in her hands and kissed his lips, as if it was her first time doing so. simple, loving, affectionate.

suddenly she fully took in the look of his naked torso, his amazingly sculpted shoulders and arms, his pearly chest... the sight of him was so breath-taking and delicious that she nearly forgot all her other surroundings. Coryo, though the look her eyes were giving him flattered him so, took the bull by its horns again and pushed the very tip of his hard length through her folds, where her warm opening welcomed him. y/n felt a strain while Coryo felt the beginning of a true release, but he noticed her awkward expression, felt her hold on his face falter, and he paused his movements to just check in.

“alright?” he asked quietly, as he couldn’t tell what to do next by her face, “too big for you?” he teased and it made them both smile, then erupt into mad giggles in unison. y/n would never have expected Coryo to have humour in a moment like this, but she was relieved that he did, and god did it make the whole thing easier. she wasn’t worried, wasn’t anxious anymore, wasn’t feeling insecure about any aspect of herself anymore. except the thing she’d heard that happened to most women on their first time – the bleeding, the pain, his reaction to it. those were the few things she wanted to avoid happening. but if Coryo was his sweetheart-self, then she had no bad reaction to worry about. she was glad he was the person she was doing it for the first time with, she’d really lucked out.

“just a little,” she finally answered after their giggle fit while holding each other in their arms, “try going deeper,” she urged in a hushed voice, and Coryo complied, adjusting his hips forward, slowly, not to accidentally hurt her more. he couldn’t deny how incredible this felt, how incredible she felt around him, her walls sucking him right in so tightly, “ohmygodohmygod,” y/n pushed the words out in a quick breath, feeling a burn and stretch inside of her at the size of him. she didn’t have anyone to compare Coryo to, and no one else had been inside her before, but he felt big enough.

Coryo appreciated her arm on his back, her nails digging half-moons into his pearly skin, and her other hand splayed across his cheek, thumb almost digging a hole in his cheek. “you feel so perfect around me,” Coryo praised against her parted lips, and y/n could only look at him with strain and tears in her eyes as he inched himself further and further inside, her face changing by every inch, it seemed, until he had bottomed out with a groan and she’d only felt a momentary sting of pain. and the worst part was over—what a miracle it was that it had been so quick for her, she’d expected otherwise. Coryo could see the immediate relaxation on her features, and he smiled.

he kissed away her fallen tears, but more kept falling from her eyes and y/n could only explain them as being happy tears, though she scolded herself for being so emotional in a meaningful moment like this. but maybe it was just right. Coryo smiled at her and she could see his orbs being glossy, too, and she was glad. it was no wonder, really, taking how shaken he was when he came into her home and sat down on her couch beside her. he was still in turmoil, but that didn’t matter now. he had her.

“can i try... moving? you feel alright?” he asked her in a whisper. this slow thrust inside her had already felt like heaven, he couldn’t wait to repeat it over and over and over.

y/n nodded, “yeah, go ahead,” she said and Coryo complied. she took in the feeling of him pulling out gently, slowly... teasingly. he was grinning, she saw, and she shook her head in disbelief as a beautiful smile adorned her features. and then he thrust inside her again, stuffing her walls with his great length, making her back arch and moans that she’s never made before escape her lips. he could hardly concentrate, but he didn’t want to miss all the different facial expressions she would make, the look in her eyes, while he made love to her now. he made himself keep his eyes open as he began to move rhythmically now.

y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, engulfing him in her more and more, and each of his thrusts earned him a squeak from her from the movements. god, he just adored her beyond measure. she was everything he needed now, and later, and forever. Coryo kissed her neck, licked at it, as he had before, and it only made her moan more, each moan in its own unique high or low pitch, and dig her fingers into whichever part of his skin she was holding. Coryo adored her touches, they turned him on, and he wanted her hands on him always, they were a lifeline. his hands gripped her waist, her sweater bunched just above them, only covering her arms and her breasts, though barely even those from how much Coryo was moving her.

“you're doing so good for me,” he breathed into her ear, and the praise only spurred her on. she clenched around him, and it made Coryo break his focus completely, his head dropping onto y/n’s chest, where he breathed hot air onto her skin, “i’m sorry, i think i’m close,” he confessed, and y/n raised his face with her hands, looking at him with puzzlement across her face.

“me too, it’s okay,” she assured him and then took one of his hands in hers and lead it down to where their bodies met. she laid his palm over the bulge that had formed in her lower stomach from him. the sight and feel of it made Coryo groan, getting him all the more closer to his release.

“fuck, that’s amazing,” he said into her neck, and y/n nodded.

“you’re so big, Coryo,” she complimented him again and felt his dick twitch inside her at the words, “made a bump in me,” she put it into words and it made the boy nearly lose his mind. then she guided his hand just a little lower and pressed his hand onto her clit, where he recalled was her most vulnerable point, “come on, touch me. we’ll do it together,” she urged him on in the sweetest of angel voices and Coryo didn’t need to think twice before complying. he loved her ordering him around a little, it was much needed tonight especially.

he pressed his thumb against her clit as his hips had nearly reached their fastest pace, and watched as her face twisted in pleasure. eyes shutting, lips spasming, closing, opening, teeth biting, voice singing out to him. “oh, Coryo,” she called his name and he felt it go straight to his heart. there wasn’t much more that he needed in order to come now, and he prided in himself for lasting so long at all, all the while feeling a little ashamed about it. he wanted this to last longer. but since he could tell she was coming, too, his thumb drawing harsh circles on her clit to bring it on, he revelled in them both finishing at once.

“fuuuck, y/n, i love you,” he whimpered into her ear as he spilled himself inside her tightly-squeezing walls while y/n all but chanted his nickname like a mantra. her hands almost drew blood on his back from how tightly she held onto him, and she shuddered around him at the feeling of her own release coating his entire length. her thighs trembled and she panted heavy breaths against his neck. she’d almost missed his quiet confession, she’d actually heard it amidst their joined euphoria, but she had thought it a hallucination.

but that assumption dissipated as she came to and looked up at Coryo, whose eyes were worriedly, with tears streaming from them, looking down at her. she quickly moved her hands to his cheeks and tried to sit up in their awkward position. best she could do was position herself higher on her pillow against the sofa’s armrest, and she gulped. “you love me?” she echoed in the smallest of voices, searching his eyes. they were worried, fearful. what if he’d said the wrong thing? what if she felt different about him, different than what he felt about her? what if he’d said it too soon? what if he’d just ruined all this with her?

but he did love her. he was sure of it. so he nodded, his curls bouncing with the confirming movement. y/n ran her hand over them and smiled wide at him.

“you love me,” she said again, surely this time, in a happy tone of voice. as if she’d discovered the best, most well-wishing secret in the whole world. and perhaps that’s what it was. her favourite secret about Coryo was that she knew he loved her, “i love you, too,” y/n told him before he could assume otherwise, and kissed his trembling lips. Coryo felt on top of the world. he had said the right thing, he’d played his cards right, he’d told her how he felt. of course, his actions spoke volumes, but hearing him say it in words meant the world to y/n.

“thank god, you had me worried there for a bit,” Coryo half-joked between their kisses, and it made her laugh. she pulled back from his lips and admired the boy above her. forehead glistening from sweat in the dim lighting, curls messily falling over his beautiful face, his pearly chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he took.

“who would i be without a little suspense, huh?” she asked and smiled at him again. she could see complete love and devotion in his eyes, two things she’d seen on his face only partly or half-meant before, and only towards herself. Coryo used the moment of silence to pull out of her and stuff himself back into his trousers. sitting against the sofa cushions to do it, he glanced at her cunt and saw it leaking with his white substance. y/n looked at him with sultry eyes and her teeth biting her lower lip, arms crossed over her chest, and she spread her legs just a little further to tease him with a wider look, “like what you see?” she asked quietly.

he just gave her eyes of total surrender, he was waving the white flag for giving up and he took a deep breath. y/n giggled as Coryo shook his head in disbelief and lowered his face down to her center, once again giving her anticipation. “you look so pretty,” he complimented and ran a finger through her folds, making her shudder as more of the snow-white liquid pooled out and coated her cunt, “pretty with me dripping out of you,” Coryo sneaked a glance up at her and saw the clear-as-day lust in her eyes. feeling that animalistic urge take over him again, he brought out his tongue and lapped up each drop coming out of her. y/n felt sensitive, sore, and Coryo was giving her a mix of both pleasure and pain as he drank at her. she had him right where she wanted him. the question was – would he stay there?

his tongue prodded at her entrance just a tad, heightening her sensitivity, and he moaned against her folds at her shudder under him, giving her folds a kiss over once he was done. he wanted to leave most of his spill inside her, only having lapped up and gulped down what was excess. sitting up before her, between her legs, Coryo licked his lips and leaned over her form. y/n pulled him in for a kiss, and could taste something salty and something sweet all at once on his lips and tongue. it was both of them.

“will you please stay?” y/n asked her in her small voice again, looking into Coryo’s eyes. she hoped to not find any resistance or decline, and her hopes were fulfilled. “please,” she plead more as he teased her with his silence. he nodded, and it made her smile wider than ever. he would stay over, like he promised her he would someday. it meant he didn't view her only as a secret anymore. maybe they could even go to Heavensbee hall tomorrow together, maybe hand in hand... “why did you say sorry? about being close?” she reminded him of the few moments before their euphorias. Coryo bent his head low for a moment.

“just felt embarrassed,” he answered, “about not lasting long. i just... i just wanted this to last longer for you,” he told her and managed to look at her again. y/n made a comforting face and stroked the side of his face. she understood.

“yeah, but it’s okay,” she assured him, “there will be other times,” she pointed out and laid a kiss to his cheek, “it was your first time, so please don’t worry your beautiful head over it.” Coryo managed a ghost of a smile just for y/n to kiss him and make his smile more life-like. “you did good, Coryo.” those words of praise went straight to his dick again, and he blushed. she had made him blush. y/n giggled.

“you did great, too,” Coryo told her and kissed her hair, “thank you. i never would have wanted to do this with anyone else but you,” he confessed as they held tight eye contact. y/n’s heart surged at his words.

“me too. i’m glad it was you,” she said and it made Coryo smile with shut lips, “now, can i get my underwear back?” she’d made a joke again, and Coryo felt like playing along further.

“no, i’m keeping it,” he said in a hushed voice, shaking his head and y/n made a playful pout. she’d want to make him think he could keep it and that she’d steal it back later, but she couldn’t. Coryo having her underwear in the pocket of his academy trousers made her feel somehow proud. a piece of her with him wherever he goes. and if he went home and stashed them somewhere in his wardrobe cabinet, that would be fine, too. she loved knowing her underwear was a token for him.

she only said, “alright,” and took his hand in hers, “let’s go shower and then to bed. you’ve exhausted me.” she admitted and Coryo took it as a compliment. he wanted this treacherous-turned-great day to end, too, and she was the cherry on top of it all. he wouldn’t have gone home tonight for anything.

permanent tag-list: @gabiatthedisco @v0idbella @works-of-fanfiction @ur-gunna-h8-ths @betweenloveandfire @but-legendsneverdie @deardeacy @thewinchesterchronicles @mavieesttriste16 @intrrverted @the-freak-cassie-131 @xoxobabydolls @corallyink @rottenstyx @allcheesemelts @dangelnleif

let me know if you want to be tagged in the future !!!

#har-rison-s writes #har-rison-s work #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo snow #coryo smut #coryo x reader #snow x reader #thg fic #thg fanfiction #coryo fanfiction #coryo fic #coriolanus fanfic #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow fanfiction

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parf-fan · 4 years

Text

In-house shows have been posted!

As always, the following info is from the Faire’s website.

Queen's Court

Join the Mount Hope Welcoming Committee as they greet Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth, at the Globe Stage! See the Queen, enjoy a sampling of the many entertainments available during the day, and learn what lies in store for all visitors to Mount Hope!

[Ah, so they’ve moved it back to the Globe for this year. Here’s hoping everyone interested in seeing this show is aware of the stage change and doesn’t go sit at Endgame for fifteen minutes wondering where tf the preshow is until they finally look more closely at their daily writ and then say a few choice words along with their best friend as the two of us raced off to the new stage.]

Variety Royale

How can one even begin to pick a favorite act here at Mount Hope? Well Her Majesty aims to do just that. Watch as the festival's performers battle for the title of The Queen's Favorite, and perhaps even more importantly, enough food to feed themselves and their family for a whole week!

[Who needs Chess when you can have a battle of the Humanities department!]

Ultimate Joust

Join Her Majesty and the people of Mount Hope as they preside over the final joust of the day! Strength will be tested, Honor will be challenged, and the very cause of Chivalry hangs in the balance. An explosive fireworks celebration awaits the victorious Knight and their supporters afterward!

[I’d be suspicious of this promise of a “fireworks celebration”, except that I know there are simply logistically not the numbers necessary to stage an attempted insurrection. It may be actual fireworks.]

Disasterpiece Theater

Years ago, Mount Hope gained a reputation as a testing ground for new and unconventional community theatre. Has it lived up to Sir Walter's lofty goals? Can anything get it back on track? Was it ever on track to begin with? What is a track? Theatre will happen. It might be a Masterpiece, it might be a disaster, but it will always be a Disasterpiece.

[One, thank God. I mean, they’d’ve been daft to cut it, but all the same. Two, Sir Walter was namedropped as a historical figure and that makes me happy. Three,“What is a track?” The cast this year is not divided by track as they’ve been before! There may not be tracks at all! This description is fricking clever].

Finale Pub Sing

End the festival day in joyously boisterous song lead by Demetrius and Friends! Join Her Majesty, Her Court, and the shire folk of Mount Hope as they bid you farewell with songs we all know and love.

[But like,,, its not at a pub, right? That would be logistically too crowded to be safe rn.]

Music with Her Majesty

Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth enjoys singing her favorite musical selections with a few new Shire friends. Don't miss this royal performance! [It’s back babyyy!]

Tea Time

Come join the two most in-the-know Courtiers in her Majesty's retinue as they discuss the hottest topics of the day. Gossip is illegal, so they definitely will not be gossiping; but rest assured, Tea shall be served, and if some is spilled, so be it!

[Listen. You can’t just go posting things like that.]

Mags' To Rich's*

She's rich. She's poor. But they both can agree on one thing: dating is hard. Join Mags Cockburn and Lady Rich as they sing about men, love, and …other things. *Contains material not suitable for children.

[Ooooh, Jules is Mags again, but as a Bacch! Coolio. My guess is that Lady Rich will be portrayed by Leigh Ann Hamelin, because music. Might not be, though. Musical ability is not limited to those historically on the music track.] [Also can we talk about this show’s title, ‘cause it’s clever.]

Guts & Glory: A Scottish Cooking Demo

Join Scottish Ambassador, Argyle Douglas, as he weaves comedy and storytelling into a cooking demonstration of Scotland's most famous dish, Haggis. This exhibition features an authentic Scottish "plushie" sheep happily providing authentic "plushie" organs thus enabling everyone to savour the experience without any worries about "nasty bits". This show is fun for the whole Family (bring your children, your grandmother, your dog).

[why...why is “plushie” in quotation marks. what are they implying.]

A Whole Experience*

Join Abe Froman, The Sausage King, and Argyle Douglas, Scottish Ambassador, as they wax poetic about the merry mix-ups in which mature couples find themselves. The Battle for Understanding, Is Compromise Truly Worthwhile in the Long-run?, When Honesty is not the Best Policy, are just the tip of the ice-burg of topics discussed. Ultimately, this show is a celebration of being human and the foibles that come with that condition. Come prepared to laugh and share in "A Whole Experience"! *Contains material not suitable for children.

[Strictly speaking, this show sounds less like a celebration of being human and more like a celebration of being an alloromantic allosexual human in an érosish relationship, but that could be false advertising.]

And finally, neither listed last nor remotely least....

Whose Jest Is It Anyway?

Just because the Queen is on the Shire doesn't mean the people of Mount Hope need to take themselves seriously all day! Come join the shire folk as they engage in some games of Wit, Hilarity, and Downright Silliness; all based on suggestions from the audience, so every show is different! Here are some testimonials from real audience members: • "I laughed until I stopped!" - Bern D'bread, Baker • "Seriously, whose jest is it? They never answer that blasted question!" - Yuri Gnollcakes, Privy Attendant • "I took an afternoon off inventing to watch 'Whose Jest…?' My brain is now so dead I'll never invent again!" - Leonardo Da Vinci, Early Renaissance Man • "Bridget!" - Bridget Moorhouse, Lat Master of Revels

[FUCK YEAH IT’S BAAAAACK!!!!! I’ve been waiting years for this! Granted, that waiting has been much more congenial since I discovered Friday Knight Improv and since they added improv track shows to the Faire day, but I have nevertheless been waiting for this for years!]

[But more important than that, I want to discuss the final testimonial there. You’ll notice that there appears to be a typo in attributing the quote, beyond just missing the middle ‘e’ from Moorehouse. There’s a missing letter from the modifier of the title. It says “Lat”. Now, while it turns out that “lat” is, in fact, a word, I very much doubt that they are attempting to define Bridget as a former silver coin of Latvia equal to 100 santimi. No, there are two words that it could be. One, it could be missing an ‘e’, making the word “late”. On the outside, that seems reasonable enough; Bridget was in her prime in 1520 and this season takes place sometime after 1558. But there is yet another option. The missing letter could be an ‘s’, making the intended word “last”. The last Master of Revels. As in: Mount Hope has not had a Master of Revels since Bridget? Or as in: there is no Master of Revels after Bridget because Bridget is still the Master of Revels and will always be the Master of Revels even unto the ending of the world, for Bridget is forever, possibly Eldritch, a force of pure chaos, unending and unchanging, Eternal.

This is one typo I hope they never fix.]

#let's be real it's a bold assumption that bridget's dead #it's a bold assumption that bridget's capable of dying #indeed the in memorum section of time-travelers' disasterpiece 2019 listed her as just kinda vanished not dead #i have my own headcanons here #which surprisingly do not involve her being an eldritch being #and really someday i will share those headcanons #but it is not this day #i suspect this list is incomplete because i have somewhat inside info #so i'll be keeping an eye on the site #anyway it's two-and-a-half hours past my bedtime and i can barely think so i think we're done here for tonight #covid!parf #parf news #parf in-house shows #parf 2020 #parf #pa ren faire #pa renn faire #pa renaissance faire #pennsylvania renaissance faire #renaissance faire #renn faire #ren faire #faire #faires under covid #ren faires under covid #covid!parf 2020 #bridget moorehouse

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

The Summer Before College | Marcus Moreno x reader

summary: just because you got some good scholarships doesn't mean you couldn’t use some extra cash. luckily, babysitting for a family friend has been a steady side gig for you. rule number one of babysitting: don't let your wandering eye rest for too long on the hot single dad.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: smut (dub con elements? but she’s into it lol don’t worry), age gap (he’s 40-something, reader’s 18/19), loss of virginity, pussy spanking (like, once), lots of petnames and ‘good girl’s, not a dark fic but kinda pushing it, not explicitly dad's best friend trope but it has that energy and I've decided that he is in fact friends with the reader's dad

a/n: this has basically nothing to do with the movie. he’s just a hot dad. don’t overthink it.

You knew the walk to the Moreno's by now: down two blocks from your house, take a right at San Vicente, a left on Birch, a few houses down and you're there. With your full backpack weighing on your shoulders it felt longer than usual, but you made it anyways and knocked on the front door.

"It's open!" a voice called from inside, and you turned the knob and swung the door open.

You almost regretted wearing your tiniest jean shorts, from the way Mr. Moreno did a double take when you walked in. But hey, it was the middle of summer and he would never look at you like that— you were just his daughter's babysitter, ever since you were sixteen; he was probably just surprised to see that you were wearing something other than your school uniform. Maybe some part of you wished he would look at you like that…

Missy called your name, tearing you from your thoughts, jumping up when she saw you and beaming as she rushed to give you a hug. "Hey!" you greeted in return.

“Thanks again for doing this,” Mr. Moreno nodded in your general direction, apparently already dressed for whatever it was he had to do, slipping on his jacket from where it hung on a hook by the door. "She's already had dinner, so just homework and bedtime," he explained to you as you nodded dutifully.

"Bedtime? Dad, I'm not a little kid anymore," Missy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you're a big kid and you need to be asleep by 10. It's a school night."

She huffed but didn't protest, and you joined her on the couch because she wanted to show you some drawings she’d done earlier that day. "Bye, Dad!" Missy waved when he left, and he turned back quickly to blow a kiss in her direction.

Once you helped her finish her homework (frankly, you didn't have to do that much— she's a smart kid), the two of you enjoyed some video games before you finally got her to start getting ready for bed.

It was cute how confident Missy was that she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, only for her to be snoring within five minutes of her head hitting the pillow. You were envious of how easily she could sleep; you could kill an hour just tossing and turning and readjusting your blanket. But that wasn’t going to be your problem tonight: you weren’t going to sleep yet, until the man of the house returned, meaning all you had to do was wait.

Even in summer, having already graduated, you had plenty of work to do while you waited for Mr. Moreno. Knowing what classes you had in the fall, you bought your textbooks a bit early and planned on reading them all before the semester began. You’d already gotten through Philosophy Through the Ages and now you continued from where you left off in the middle of Introductory Physics.

What surprised you was that you had time to finish that one, too. You had anticipated that Mr. Moreno would be back before you made it to the module on fluid dynamics, but you reached the index at a quarter past midnight and he was still gone. You shrugged and picked up the next one— A Book of Luminous Things: An International Anthology of Poetry— hoping he was alright and that he’d be back soon.

You had to make yourself some coffee when 1 a.m. rolled around; tired, anxious, and distracted, you realized this was probably not the best state to be attempting to study in, but you didn’t feel like you had a choice. You didn’t want to fall asleep here, you’d promised to watch Missy and you couldn’t exactly do that while asleep… plus, he would probably be back any minute now. Sure, you’d been saying that to yourself for nearly an hour and a half now, but it was more true than ever.

It was another hour and a half, though, until his car pulled into the driveway and he pushed through the front door, prompting you to set aside your textbook.

“Good evening,” you greeted, standing up. He looked a little disheveled— but it worked for him, with that curly hair all messed up in just the right way. Maybe it was just that it was late or that it was the rare time you saw him without Missy around, but there was a darkness about him now, not sinister so much as just purely intimidating. It was like you hadn’t really taken him seriously before, and now you were appreciating that you should have.

“She’s asleep?” he assumed, glancing over to the hallway which his daughter’s bedroom was positioned at the end of before slipping his jacket off and hanging it by the door.

“It’s half past two, so… I really hope so,” you chuckled.

“Shit, is it that late already?” he groaned, glancing at his watch.

“Did you not notice?”

“I.. got carried away.”

You didn’t want to know what he’d been out so late for. It was none of your business, and you figured you were better off without any secrets to keep— you’d never been so good at keeping secrets, even your own.

“Been studying this whole time?” he noticed as he glanced at the textbooks on the couch, grinning a little. It sort of felt like he was mocking you, and it made your cheeks warm as you nodded. “What a good girl.”

That made a cold tingle crawl up your spine. Sure, other students had called you that before, and plenty of your teachers, but when he said it, like that… it felt entirely new. “I try,” you managed to respond eventually.

“You’ll do well in college, I bet.”

“You think so?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he nodded confidently. There was something comforting about the way he smiled at you; yet, there was something predatory about the way his eyes glanced down your body and back up slowly.

As you turned and bent over to pick up your textbooks off the couch, you could tell that he had stepped closer; you could just barely hear the soft noise of his footsteps on his carpet, just barely feel the warmth of him behind you, just barely pick up on the slow, thoughtful breath he took in and out through his nose.

Standing back up slowly, you felt him do it again, right against your neck.

“M-Mr. Moreno,” you stammered, shivering when his hands gripped you on either arm. Not a tight grip, per se, but one that made his strength obvious.

“You don’t have to call me that,” he breathed. “Not when we’re alone.”

Not that you really had any plan on how to respond to that, but if you had, it would've been forgotten as his lips brushed over your neck, leaving teasing kisses in a trail over your pulse.

"Wait—" you blurted out instinctively when his hands moved to your waist, cut off by your own shaky sigh and suppressed moan. “What if she wakes up?” you questioned anxiously, glancing down the hallway and hoping you wouldn’t find Missy there, watching her dad feeling you up— and you letting him, not just that but enjoying it. Of course, the hallway was deserted, but you couldn’t feel certain it would stay that way.

“She won’t,” he assured. “Not if you can be a good girl and stay quiet.”

You made a little whimpering noise as you wondered if you could. You didn’t know how, really; you were good at being quiet when you were alone, but being alone had never felt like this. Forbidden, sexy, terrifyingly wonderful… nothing had ever felt like this.

“Do you want me to stop?” he purred, sounding like he already knew the answer.

“No,” you answered a little too quickly, “please… please don’t stop.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” he grinned. “Tell me what you do want.”

“I want…” you sighed and started over again, willing yourself to speak your thoughts aloud even though they made a pit of guilt sink in your stomach. "I want you to make me feel good."

You knew it was a sort of childish way of putting it, even before he laughed at your statement, but you weren't sure what else to say. "Yeah? I can do that," he decided. "But I can make you feel good in so many ways…" he trailed off as his right hand slipped lower and lower, finally landing between your legs as you gasped. Two fingers slid over the crotch of your shorts, and somehow he managed to bump against something that made electricity shoot up your spine and your hips buck into his touch of their own accord. You felt his smile widen as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin of your neck. "You'll have to be more specific," he finally finished. "How do you want me to make you feel good?"

"Inside me," you whined, "I want you inside me."

There was a sudden shift as it seemed like the control he had over you suddenly did not extend to himself; he growled a bit and pulled you into him, and you could feel the hard shape of his cock, through his trousers and your shorts. You could feel it pressed just above your ass and it made you squirm against his embrace. "Feel what you do to me?" he grunted, and you nodded quickly. "Good."

He spun you around quickly, pulling you close to him and burning right through you with those brown eyes darker than ever, but just as you thought he might kiss you, he spoke instead.

“My bedroom’s upstairs,” he informed you quietly.

You just nodded, following him as he pulled you along through the house, up the stairs and past the door to the master bedroom of the house.

Now that you hadn’t seen it coming, of course, was when he chose to grab you and kiss you suddenly. It was rough and passionate and nothing like you could've imagined; you were certain you'd never been kissed like this, like he needed to kiss you more than he needed anything.

Your arms slipped around his neck as he pushed you back against the wall, lifting your legs to wrap around his waist as he kicked the door shut behind the two of you. Little moans were muffled by the kiss— and it took you a minute to realize they were yours. You didn’t even sound like yourself; probably because you’d never felt like this before, and therefore had never had any reason to sound like this.

You could feel his cock between your legs, though unfortunately not in the way you wanted. Still, it drove you wild to have him so close like this, to try to imagine how the thick shape you were feeling would ever fit inside you.

His hands were so strong and thick that you worried they’d stretch out your tank top just by reaching under it— well, that is you would have worried about that if you could think about anything else but his hands reaching under your tank top. He didn’t even waste his time touching you over your bra, instead making quick work of the clasps with one hand before coming back to grope one breast in his palm, then the other. Just that was enough to make you run your fingers into his hair, but a little pinch to your raised nipple made your fists tighten and pull— you didn’t mean to, and you were just about to feel bad about it until he growled a little. It seemed like a growl of approval, considering he pinched your nipples harder to make you do it again.

“Feels good?” he asked with annoying (yet arousing) confidence.

“S-so good,” you slurred, stumbling over your words as you tried to think as clearly as possible through the thick haze of pleasure clouding your mind.

As he guided you to set your legs down and unhook your arms from around his neck, you felt a bit like a doll being posed; when he pulled your top over your head and your bra from your arms, you felt like a doll being undressed. You sort of didn’t mind it; you were happy to let him take the lead, confident he knew at least 100% more about this than you did.

He knelt down before you as he roughly pulled at your tight jean shorts, his knuckles nearly bruising your hips as he stripped you. Your underwear were not the pair you would’ve worn if you had known somebody was going to see them, just a plain dark blue color that made you feel so drab as he came face-to-face with them. He didn’t seem to mind much, grinning up at you as he slipped his fingers under them and pulled them down, too. Your face was so hot and yet your legs were breaking out into goosebumps simultaneously, and a shiver rolled up your body when he growled at the sight of your body laid bare for him. Before you could even process it, he stood up and grabbed you, tossing you back onto the bed and spreading your legs.

“Fuck, what a pretty little pussy,” he praised with a smile that made you feel a little light-headed, swirling a few fingers over your swollen button until pulling them back to spank you there— it wasn’t even that hard, but you yelped and jolted and he laughed darkly. “So sensitive,” he purred, his words walking a fine line between a compliment and a taunt, “so wet.”

Another finger slipping down to your entrance proved him right, your arousal plentiful as his touch glided through your folds.

Suddenly overcome with a moment of bravery, you sat up and fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, making him smile down at you. “Let me help you,” he offered as he worked the buttons instead, freeing you to try to open his belt. “Look at you, acting so desperate…”

At this point, you weren’t even offended by that; you wanted him so bad that you didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed by it anymore.

He slipped the shirt off of his shoulders just as you finished opening the belt. He pushed your hands away, and now you could see the muscles in his arms flexing as he held you down by your wrists. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, señorita,” he purred.

Why did feeling powerless to him turn you on so much? There was no real fear to it— you knew and trusted him, you would never have developed your misguided crush on him if you didn’t— and yet there was a strong edge of uncertainty as he kissed your neck and moved down your chest, between your breasts before he stopped to kiss those, too.

“Oh god,” you breathed, and he smiled against your skin before sitting up and staring down at you. It wasn’t apparent if it was distant streetlights or the moonlight shining in through the window, but either way it cast a cold blue light into the room that reflected as a glimmer in his eyes.

“Not gonna make you wait any longer,” he promised in a low voice, reaching down to push his unbuttoned belt and trousers to his thighs— those thick, muscular thighs that made your lip catch between your teeth.

Your breath caught, too, but in your lungs this time as his cock was exposed: thick, swollen, veiny… it looked picturesque, if thoroughly intimidating. You couldn’t figure out if you wanted to move towards it or sheepishly crawl away.

"Why do you look scared?" he asked, his voice so much deeper than you remembered it from before, even if there was genuine concern somewhere in his tone.

"Is it gonna hurt?" you asked instead of answering.

"Baby…" he sighed huskily, "are you a virgin?"

You bit your lip and looked away, irritated that you hadn't managed to hide your fear enough to keep your secret.

He sighed, your silence apparently answer enough.

"Do you not want to, anymore?" you asked anxiously, afraid you had completely killed the mood. Part of the reason it'd taken you this long to lose it was specifically because people seemed intimidated by the idea of being your first.

"No, no, I— no," he asserted sternly. "I just need to… change my approach, slightly.”

He leaned down a bit, hovering over you as he trailed his hand up your leg, rubbing the inside of your thigh before finally drawing circles over your aching clit with his thumb, causing you to shiver and moan quietly.

“And, to answer your question, it won’t hurt. Not if I get you good and ready for me,” he explained, pushing just one finger into you— and even that small of a stimulation made your eyes flutter shut, with his fingers being so much thicker and stronger than yours.

The second made your fists clench around the satin-y sheets beneath you. You didn’t dare open your eyes, knowing you’d find him staring down at you and you weren’t ready for that, weren’t ready to see his reaction to your body in such a vulnerable state. You could hear his reaction, though, with the rough groans and satisfied sighs he let out as he pumped his fingers into you.

When three fingers filled you, your eyes shot open. “Fuck!” you yelped.

He smiled but slowed down, apparently taking some pity on you— but not enough to stop him from pressing down harder on your clit.

Just when you figured he’d warmed you up enough and he’d fuck you like he promised, he slid lower and the bed and bent down, adding his tongue into the mix with his fingers. It was… overwhelming, and hot, not just psychologically but literally: it was physically hot, as in temperature. How was his mouth so warm against you, and his fingers so warm inside you?

When he latched his lips around your clit and sucked on it, you saw stars. Energy gathered in your gut and burned so bright that you thought you might explode. Really, it was more like an implosion as the coil inside you snapped and your thighs accidentally clamped down on his hand. It didn’t faze him though, it didn’t even slow him down as he moaned a little against you and curled his fingers even harder. You didn’t remember reaching down to grab his head, you just felt his hair between your fingers as you pulled it roughly, gasping his name.

When he did stop, sitting up and wiping his face with the back of his hand, you just looked back up at him as you caught your breath. He laughed, and you realized you were gawking unintentionally.

“I’m guessing you’ve never come like that before?” he ventured. You didn’t know if ‘like that’ meant from oral or just so suddenly and intensely, but it was true either way so you nodded.

When he reached down to grip his cock with the same hand still wet with your slick, you held your breath without realizing it. “Please put it in me,” you whimpered.

“I will,” he assured as he guided the head of it through your slick folds, stopping to tease your clit as you jolted from the contact on the sensitive nerves. Something surreal and indescribable tingled under your skin— you could hardly believe that this was happening, let alone with him, with Mr. Moreno. Or, Marcus. You were on a first-name basis by now, surely.

He pushed forward in one smooth, slow stroke until he was all the way inside you, his body filling yours to the brim as you quivered from the sensation of being stretched so wide.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked roughly.

“...almost,” you answered hesitantly, unsure how to describe the sensations you were feeling; not exactly pain, but not not pain. The favorite pain you’d ever felt in your life, easily.

He chuckled as he gripped your hips a little tighter. "I'm gonna move now," he announced. You nodded your approval, sighing shakily as he pulled his hips back and you felt the intoxicating friction of his cock against your walls.

"Ffffuck," you whimpered, gasping when he slammed his hips forward again. Your eyes rolled back in your head when he pushed as deep into you as he could with each thrust, still measured but not exactly gentle as he set a pace faster than you’d prepared for. But it was good, god it was so fucking good you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. "Marcus," you sighed, barely recognizing your own voice when it was heavy with need and arousal like this.

He grinned when he heard his name cross your lips, grinding his hips against yours for emphasis until you were forced to arch your back. "You like it rough, don't ya, honey?"

You nodded, confident that you liked it however he was doing it.

"Fuck, I knew it. Knew as soon as I saw you."

Before you could wonder what he meant by that, he was already moving fast enough to make your head spin. You had never had anything so deep inside you before, and when he pushed your legs up and back against your chest, you had no choice but to scream with pleasure.

Just before you reached the peak of it though, his hand clamped down over your mouth to muffle the sound. "Gotta be quiet," he reminded you through his teeth before relaxing his hand a bit so you could still be heard somewhat

"I can't," you whined, "Marcus, please, I can't stay quiet—"

"You have to."

"Feels too good," you whimpered your excuse. "F-fuck, slow down, I won't be able to stop it—"

He cut you off with a kiss, slow yet dominating, and your moans were muffled by his lips. You still sounded so loud in your own head, but at least your cries weren't echoing against the walls of his room anymore.

What was echoing were the sounds of skin slapping on skin as he pounded into you, roughly finding every delicate spot within you and making the backs of your thighs sore as his hips slammed into them. It forced your hands to grip at his muscular shoulders and your nails to dig into the skin there. You hoped there would be little half-moon shaped marks there tomorrow, maybe one would even scar so he'd have your mark on his body forever; after all, he'd carved a permanent space in your body by taking your virginity. Even if you couldn't dream of being as special to him as he was to you, you liked the idea of giving him something that he couldn't give back.

That energy was building again, different from before but no less powerful and persistent. "I'm gonna— fuck, I'm gonna come, I'm so close," you whispered.

“Yeah? Go ahead," he encouraged. "I wanna see you fall apart just for me, wanna feel you come around my cock."

You hadn't realized he'd be able to feel it, and the idea of that was so filthily beautiful that it pushed you over the edge, your whole body tensing up in sudden waves of pleasure so intense that it made your eyes water.

Through the static filling your ears, you heard his low, husky voice encouraging you: "Good girl, just like that, don't fucking stop."

You'd always been powerless to his voice, but this was another level. It was as if your body understood and met his demands, continuing to ride the peak of your sensation so long as he growled in your ear just right.

It was much too tender, the way he brushed the stray hair away from your face, the way he kissed your slack mouth again, the way he held you tighter and mumbled more praises to you. It was more romantic than it had any right to be, and you had to bite back the words of affection threatening to spill out of your mouth.

I love you, you wanted to tell him, I've loved you for years, but it was beyond inappropriate. You didn't want to play the role of the innocent virgin who thinks sex means being in love and lets herself catch feelings for the older man who is just taking what he wants and, at best, doing her a favor so she doesn't have to go off to college and get her cherry popped there. Maybe that was accurate, but that wasn't who you wanted to be.

You wanted to be sexy, and mature, and in control. You wanted to play a new rule, one that still felt foreign and yet closer than ever. So you wrapped your legs around his hips and held him deeper in you, smiling with a little growl of your own.

"I want you to come inside me," you informed him with a purr, loving the little moment of shock that passed over his face before he groaned, fucking you a little faster and more erratically.

"Fuck, really?" he rasped.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes and nodded.

"You're on the pill?"

Another nod, this one finished off with a shiver as you wondered how much more of this your body could take.

He grinned and picked up the pace again, his moans getting a little louder with each movement. "Fuck, I'm gonna come— gonna fill up your tight little pussy, is that what you want?"

You nodded feverishly, already close to the edge again as you imagined what it would be like to have his come in you for the rest of the night. Was he going to make you walk home with it leaking out from between your legs? Why did that idea make your inner muscles involuntarily tighten around him?

With a string of curses and a grip on your thigh tight enough to bruise, he reached his own peak and you felt his cock flex and pulse inside you, a new warmth filling your gut from the inside out.

It's hard to say how long the two of you stayed like that, since you were busy basking in the afterglow (and, less enjoyably, worrying about the consequences that tomorrow morning would bring).

When he pulled out and collapsed beside you, you wondered if you should get up and get dressed.

"Stay here tonight," he instructed you, as if somehow a response to your internal thought. "Your folks won't freak out if you're out all night, right?"

"I'll just tell them I slept over at your place," you shrugged. With a confused look from him, you clarified: "on the couch."

"Right," he nodded as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you closer, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. In this way and in so many others, it was how you expected (and hoped) losing your virginity would go: someone you trust and who cares about you, with enough attention on you that you didn't feel much pain, plus cuddling afterwards. But, in even more ways, it was unlike what you'd ever thought possible: it felt incredible and you came so hard that your ears were still kind of ringing, you didn't use a condom or even think to mention it, and finally— and most absurdly— it was with Marcus fucking Moreno.

Frankly, considering his performance earlier, "fucking" very well could be his middle name.

"You should sit for me again next week," he suggested quietly.

"Do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," he grinned, "but I'll be sure to come back real late, after she's gone to bed, so I can show you all the other ways I can make you feel good."

"H-how many ways are there?!"

He just laughed, pulling you closer and placing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Oh, sweetheart… so smart, but so innocent. We can fix that.”

You weren’t sure entirely which of those two things he intended on fixing.

#marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno smut #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #pedro pascal x reader

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chockfullofsecrets · 3 years

Text

Critical Role: The Importance of Timing, Ch 1

<<chapter navigation TBA>>

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb and Essek make the mistake of overworking themselves right before the Mighty Nein are scheduled for a reunion. Lessons are learned.

Wordcount: 3.6k (yeah, this one’s going to take a while)

A/N: making some more progress on my backlog of prompts (this one happens to be both from the most recent vote and this lovely anon prompt)! cross your fingers that this is going to be my first finished chapter fic lol

---

Caleb hardly remembers it, later.

It was evening - not particularly late, but after three near-sleepless nights time stretched into its own kind of viscous liquidity. Like a soup.

He laughed to himself at the absurdity of it, too tired for more than the barest expense of breath. Essek would know better than he, of course - he turned to him, intending to share the thought, and found a sheaf of notes thrust mere inches from his face.

“Here,” Essek said brusquely. Exhaustion did not lend itself to the usual smoothness of his speech. “I think I have it, finally - if we engrave it this way, the spell will replenish itself without interrupting conversation, yes?”

“Oh.” He took the papers, looking them over blearily - his eyes widened, a brief rush of vigor returning. “Oh, this is - oh, this is good! Let me just fabricate the surface smooth again and we can try-”

There was a crash from a location beyond the lab and therefore currently unimportant. Neither of them looked up.

The interruption, then, arrived unexpectedly.

“Hel-loooo!”came a lilting Nicodranian accent from the hall. “We got here early and you didn’t answer your door so we used our super cool magic powers to come in, and we should to-tally make a hammock themed room in the mansion tonight because I think Fjord is kind of land sick - Caleb, look at me, why do you look so terrible?”

Caleb knew the consequences of ignoring that voice. He looked up.

After hours of gazing at runes, his eyes refused to fully adjust and take in the three figures in the doorway. He squinted and managed to make out a bit of blue. “Jester?”

“They look tired right out, the poor things,” a purple blob pronounced from Jester’s right. “We haven’t missed out on an adventure, have we?”

“No,” Jester said, “Essek would never go out with his hair looking like that. Right, Essek? Aren’t you, like, super embarrassed that your hair’s all floppy right now?”

Sitting shoulder to shoulder with the floppy-haired drow in question, Caleb could just barely hear him hiss in protest at the interruption. “Leave, then, if it disturbs you so.”

Caleb blinked, starting to fumble together a sentence to dull the reprimand, and suddenly the remaining green blob resolved into Fjord as he put a hand on Caleb’s forehead and crouched to look into his eyes. “All right, it’s bedtime for you two. Jes, can you get Essek?”

“Wait-” Caleb grabbed weakly for the table, for his notes at least, but he was already being swept up in Fjord’s arms and carried bodily from the room. Essek sounded much more awake - and irate, frankly - behind him, trying to explain something, but it had been far too long since he had been anywhere near horizontal - with his head pillowed against Fjord’s bicep, he was asleep before they reached the stairs.

---

Waking is a slow process.

He is not alone - there’s a weight to being tangled up in someone else, the warm scent of closeness, and even without his eidetic memory he does not think he can ever forget the stony, moon-soaked smell of having his face buried in the crook of Essek’s shoulder.

He yawns lazily. Essek must be very tired, if Caleb is awake and he is not, and he is the better cook of the two of them anyway - although of course neither of them have any comparison to Caduceus, or Yasha now that it’s been several months since her last poisoning incident. He presses a gentle kiss to Essek’s jaw and rolls out of bed to get started with breakfast.

Or tries to, at least. His top half makes it out of bed easily enough, but the rest of him does not seem inclined to follow.

Something clanks at the foot of the bed as he narrowly hauls himself up from a quick trip to the floor. He props himself up on an elbow, halfway through another yawn, and finds himself staring down a pair of manacles hooked around his ankles.

He kicks cautiously. The chain threaded through his bed posts clanks again.

Panic begins to stir low in his gut. “Essek!”

There’s a sleepy murmur next to him. He twists to find Essek blinking awake - there’s not much else he can do, with his arms shackled above his head and his legs chained below in similar fashion. The cuffs are padded at least, stuffed with what looks to be worn handkerchiefs, and they’re both fully dressed in sleep clothes - their captors don’t want to hurt them, then, not yet.

Caleb scans the room frantically. The book he has been reading is still propped open on the bedside table, the door knob Essek had pried from an Aeorian ruin after Caleb had commented on its sparkle still proudly adorns the bathroom door, Kingsley is still leaning against the window-

He grins smugly as Caleb’s gaze snaps back to him. “Oh, good, you’re both awake. Comfy watch, but it’s ever so much more boring without the-” He pulls his hands from his pockets and rocks them back and forth. “Oh, and also the fish folk trying to kill us, those are great.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb demands. Next to him, Essek makes a shocked sound as he presumably recognizes that he cannot move any of his limbs. “What is this?”

“Oh, I can’t rightly say.” Kingsley saunters over and swings himself neatly up onto the mattress, worming between him and Essek to sit cross-legged at the center of the bed. “Wasn’t my idea, at any rate-”

“Jester and Fjord were here too,” Essek interrupts. “Is this - this is a prank, is it not?”

“Hush, you,” Kingsley smirks. “All I’ve got is that I’m to ensure you don’t make your way free with any spellcasting before Fjord and Jester get back. And to that end…”

He breaks the pause with a dramatic flourish of his arms, spreading them wide before laying a palm down lightly on each of their bellies. “I’m told this should do just fine, if the two of you care to demonstrate?”

Caleb connects the dots just a moment too late to throw himself back off the edge of the bed. “Kingsley - wait - ah!”

There was a time when it would take minutes for his mind to link the intruding sensation of touch to anything but wariness. Now, the instant Kingsley’s fingers start scribbling he’s flat on his back, pushing weakly at the offending limb and doing his best not to collapse into hysterical snickering at how much it - it -

“Tickle, tickle, magic man,” Kingsley teases, pupilless eyes aflame with mischief. “No, no, don’t bother fighting it. I’ve heard tales about those ribs of yours, you know. Especially how much you love letting Jester play with them, hm?”

“N-nein, that’s not-” Caleb tries to protest, but he’s already giggling just at the thought - Fjord and Jester are here, and he’s stuck, and Kingsley won’t stop tickling him-

Kingsley’s grin grows another satisfied inch as he turns back to Essek. “And you, stubborn - oh, are you trying to cast something? Is that what that face means?”

Essek is struggling, jaw working and face scrunched as his entire body trembles in time with the claw vibrating its way into his belly. Caleb can practically see the Misty Step brewing on his tongue, just a few short words between him and freedom if only he can get them out without laughing.

Until Jester tracks him down, that is. He hasn’t - they’ve been apart, and then in Aeor, and then working on their big project for the past few weeks, and Caleb hasn’t exactly gotten around to admitting that he might like Essek to - admitting anything, really. Or telling Essek that now that Jester knows he’s ticklish and doesn’t entirely mind it, any attempt to escape will only end in more retribution.

An oversight, in retrospect.

Kingsley purrs, apparently entirely delighted with his victim’s predicament. “Oh, come on now, you can do it! It’s been a while since I’ve seen a good magic show.” Essek shakes his head frantically, lips pressed together even as his cheeks puff with repressed giggles, and Kingsley grins all the wider. “No? Let’s see how long you last when I really start pressing your buttons, then.”

On his side and snickering helplessly, Caleb cannot help but feel a little jealous as he watches Kingsley tug up Essek’s shirt and wait for his eyes to widen in terrible anticipation. “One last chance, then? Cause I think this is really going to tickle.”

Caleb wants him to succeed, really, he does - but watching Essek try as hard as he can to curl in on himself as a single fingertip starts to rub at his navel, squirming and squeezing his eyes shut and finally barking out the first two syllables of his incantation before the third succumbs to high, squeaking laughter holds its own considerable charm. “Ahahaaaa - nooo, hehe! - wh -” He laughs a little more, shoulders shaking, and barely manages to gasp out the words. “Fjord - Jester - where -”

“Couldn’t take it? Oh, you are a ticklish thing,” Kingsley tells him, laughing when Essek’s attempt at protesting collapses into a breathless snort. “You’re wondering where they are? Really, I couldn’t say. Maybe they’ll be gone for hours, and I’ll just have to keep tickling and tickling-”

He’s focused in on Essek now, taking his other hand off Caleb to wiggle it menacingly over a defenseless armpit - Essek takes one look at the new threat and screams. “Caleb!”

Kingsley’s replaced his hand with his tail squeezing around Caleb’s thigh, and it tickles so badly and unexpectedly that Caleb would like to curl up in a ball and do some screaming of his own, but with Essek pleading for his help there’s no other choice.

He pulls himself back onto his elbows and flops into Kingsley’s lap as best he can with his legs chained, reaching blindly for ticklish spots that used to belong to Mollymauk - gasping through a new wave of laughter as the spade of Kingsley’s tail starts to poke at the soft back of his knee, he crowds his fingernails against the small of Kingsley’s back and yelps in preemptive terror as Kingsley starts to laugh and reaches for him instead. “Fjord! Jester!” he shouts. “Help!”

“Gah - oh, fuck, thahat’s - haaaa-” Kingsley flails for a moment, legs kicking out as he tries to shimmy away, but in the next moment his fingers are tickling mercilessly under Caleb’s arms and Caleb can hardly breathe, let alone keep tickling him. He flails to escape, trying to wrap his arms around himself and use them to drag himself away at the same time, but really that just means that Kingsley’s hands are stuck in his armpits now and he’s going to die-

“Right, right, I’ve learned my lesson, no ganging up on our little star,” Kingsley grumbles. Caleb gasps in breathless relief as Kingsley works his hands free - he’s facedown on the mattress, but he hears Essek shout for Fjord and Jester too before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Presumably Kingsley’s putting his tail to good use somewhere.

A hand grabs his shoulder, and he’s rolled over onto his back with his legs untwisting beneath him. He blinks up into Kingsley’s gaze, eyebrows raised in apparent dudgeon. “You, on the other hand,” Kingsley growls, as if his lips weren’t curving up into a fanged smile already, “I am absolutely going to need both hands for what I’m about to do to your ribs.”

“Mist,” Caleb sputters reflexively, and then, louder, “Fjord! Jester! FJORD!”

Kingsley’s eyebrows rise even higher. “Oh, it’s sweet that you think they’re going to help you. Unless - oh, did you want more hands?”

Caleb hardly hears the approaching footsteps over his own anticipatory squeal as he watches Kingsley’s fingers start to wander back down towards his ribs. “Nein! - eheeheh, oh gods, nein-”

But then, suddenly, blessedly, the fingers ghost lightly over his ribs and settle for spidering across his tummy instead. He wheezes in relief - half of it comes out as giggles, his nerves still on high alert, but he fully intends to enjoy breathing while he can.

He flops tiredly back, eyes tracking to the doorway as Fjord and Jester stroll in. “Sorry for the wait,” Fjord says politely. “Jester and I were just finishing up lunch. Because it’s lunchtime.”

“No rush, Captain!” Kingsley practically chirps. “We’re having a wonderful time, aren’t we, boys?”

Fjord looks completely unsurprised to find the two of them in chains. Jester is practically bouncing beside him. Caleb imagines this does not bode well for them.

Essek pipes up from behind him, metal clanking as he tries to move to see around Kingsley. “Did - heh - did we oversleep? I think the shackles are a bit uncalled for-”

“Oh,” Fjord says, low and dangerous. He’s not smiling, not yet, but Caleb can see it in his eyes and that is even worse. “Don’t mind those. It would be a shame to let the two of you leave your bedroom so soon when you haven’t seen it in days and days, wouldn’t it?”

With Kingsley still tickling at his waist, Caleb can’t even begin to coax his stomach muscles to let him sit up as Fjord and Jester cross to the bed and loom over the both of them. Jester claps her hands together, looking dangerously pleased with herself. “Do you like them?” she enthuses. “We got them from a pirate raid, because someone put our other set on a fish person that jumped right back into the ocean.”

“They were getting rusted anyway - I don’t think we collected a single one of those at sea, they’re not even waterproofed.” Fjord grumbles amiably. “These, though-”

He hooks one finger delicately through the chain connecting Caleb’s ankles to the bedpost and tugs, dragging one helpless foot just close enough to scoop up in a waiting hand. “Now these are made for some real seafaring shit. Could hold a body for as long as you want, as long as they aren’t inclined to use any magic tricks.”

Caleb tries to yank his foot back. Fjord just chuckles and leans over to stare him down, his yellow eyes warm and amused. “Isn’t that right, Caleb.”

“No magic tricks,” he gasps out through another fit of giggles as Fjord rubs a warning thumb over his sole. It’s hardly a concession - between that and Kingsley, he hardly has the breath to try anything.

“Good,” Fjord says encouragingly. He puts Caleb’s foot gently down and turns to Essek. “Now you.”

Caleb turns to look at him - from what little of Essek’s body language he can read, he looks wholly confused. “You’re not going to let us go?”

Fjord crosses his arms. “Oh, I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement. Just consider this a friendly reminder that Jester, Kingsley and I are quite capable of following any… magical exits.”

Essek visibly rallies at the mention of magic, quirking an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware you had learned how to Teleport.”

“Essek,” Caleb hisses. Fjord shushes him and stalks a single step forward, just close enough to start tickling lightly at the bottom of one purple foot.

Essek’s superior expression lasts all of a moment before his entire body starts flailing to escape the single point of contact. “Ah! No, nohoho, wahahait, I didn’t - ahaha, stop that!”

“You’re right, I can’t Teleport,” Fjord says conversationally. “Good catch, I’d kind of forgotten about that one. Jes, we’ve got some antimagic stuff on the ship, right?”

Jester interrupts herself from making increasingly dramatic faces at Essek to answer. “I think so? You know, just in case if we meet someone icky like you know who.”

“Perfect. Maybe you and Kingsley can keep Essek busy, and I’ll head back to the ship and root around for it?” He looks calmly down at Essek, kicking as frantically as he can with the few inches of leeway the shackles afford him and still completely unable to avoid Fjord’s fingers. “It’ll take a while, mind you.”

Jester perks up, dancing over and reaching for Essek’s other foot. “Yes! Kingsley, did you try his ears yet? They get all flappy and it’s really really-”

“No!” Essek rushes out, squeaking in harried protest when they still don’t stop tickling up his arches. “I - wait,” he pleads. “No! I won’t cast, I won’t!”

Fjord grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Alright, Kingsley, can we give them a moment?”

Kingsley removes his hands from both of them rather reluctantly. Fjord claps his shoulder in silent thanks. “Now, would either of you like to explain why we found the two of you half-dead from sleep deprivation?”

“Yeah, you guys, we were so worried!” Jester adds. “You can’t do that when we’re not around to take care of you! You guys haven’t been doing this all year, have you?”

“We’ve only met up in the last few months,” Caleb adds, wincing a little as their eyes turn to him. He sits up slowly, wincing apologetically in the direction of Essek’s wrist shackles. “But no, we have not, we are just working on this project - it is a real ficker, there are so many moving pieces - and we are nearly done, we meant to sleep last night.”

“How many days?” Fjord asks. “One? Two?”

When neither of them answer, sharing a silent look, he hovers a hand threateningly over each of their trapped feet. “Believe me, you really don’t want us to pick a number.”

“Four,” Essek says warily. “But Caleb slept for at least an hour each night, and I don’t need to-”

“Oh, four’s a lot,” Kingsley cuts in. “Did you not learn how to sleep in shifts, not being on the ocean, or do you just enjoy each other’s company that much?”

Essek turns bright red. Caleb’s pretty sure he turns even redder. Even Fjord looks a little embarrassed as Jester and Kingsley collapse into laughter.

Jester sobers quickly, though, pouting insistently down at them.“Four is pret-ty bad, you guys.”

Kingsley nods seriously. Thus validated, she starts bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. “I think we need to punish them, Fjord!”

Caleb can easily guess what this punishment will entail. “Wait a moment,” he says hastily, “we have not even told you about this project-”

“It will be worth it,” Essek adds. “If you would just let us-”

Fjord nods thoughtfully, ignoring their protests. “What do you say, a minute for each hour they should have been sleeping?”

“No-” Caleb starts.

“So that’s sixteen for Essek, and - Caleb’s been napping on and off, sounds like, so we’ll round it down to a neat half hour for him.”

Caleb gapes fearfully. A half hour of tickling, after months and months - he can admit to himself that he missed it a little, but- “That’s too much,” he blurts. “Bitte, you’ll kill me-”

“Really, this is unnecessary,” Essek adds, surprisingly dignified for the way he’s trying helplessly to press his feet against the bed. “Just - we are well rested now, we only need a few hours more to finish the project, there is no need!”

Jester pouts. “Oh, Essek, don’t you want to hang out with us?”

Essek flounders at that, and Caleb can’t help the soft smile that slips out of him. “I would like nothing more,” he assures her, “but being chained up and - and tortured - was not quite on my mind-”

“Well then, you shouldn’t have been so dumb, Essek,” she says cheerily. “Caleb, do you want me or Fjord to tickle you?”

His mouth goes dry. Jester will be - Fjord teases, but he is gentle at least, and Jester is - Jester-

He looks over at Essek, wide-eyed and eyes flicking between all of them in some strange combination of bewilderment and anticipation, and braces himself. “Jester.”

Kingsley laughs, delighted. “Oh, he must really love you,” he tells Essek. “He’s gone and given you the better option by far.”

Essek looks at Caleb, gaze softening. “Really?”

Caleb grimaces back at him, a little embarrassed by himself. “He’s exaggerating. And besides, I am not the one laid flat out here.”

Essek frowns. “Yes, about that.”

“Caleb doesn’t like having his wrists pinned down,” Jester says easily, scrambling up onto the bed and into Caleb’s lap. “Though you should know that already if you two are boning-”

“Jester,” Caleb pleads. Kingsley starts to laugh again.

She beams at him, darting in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Hi, Caleb!”

It’s impossible not to smile back. “Hallo, blueberry.”

He looks around her to see Fjord walk over and settle on Essek’s side of the bed, patting his shoulder companionably. “It’s good to see you two, really.”

Essek just sighs.

Kingsley prods at his belly, earning a hasty yelp. “He’s in a mood, it seems. You want some help with him?”

His stomach grumbles, just then, and Fjord laughs. “Why don’t you get some lunch instead,” he suggests. “We’d have brought something up, but the screaming sounded rather urgent.”

“Aye-aye, Captain,” Kingsley cocks a loose salute and swings back off the bed with one more tickle under each of their arms, snorting in amusement as Caleb and Essek both squirm and protest. “The others should be arriving soon, I’ll keep a weather eye on the door.”

“Yes, do that,” Fjord says, waiting for him to round the corner and start down the stairs. “That guy is really into sea lingo.”

“Kingsley is great,” Jester enthuses. “Don’t you guys think he looks so much prettier now that he’s all tan?”

She’s not wrong. “Ja, sure.” Caleb says. “By the way, what exactly did the two of you tell him about-” He flushes. “About my ribs?”

“Oh, you know, just some stuff!” Jester says cheerfully. “Most of it is definitely not true by now, probably, since it’s been a super long time since we’ve seen you.”

She puts both of her hands on Caleb’s shoulders and presses, sending him flat on his back and leaning over with a mischievous smile. “Good thing we have a whole half hour to catch up, huh?”

Caleb gulps.

#tickling #critical role #shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #kingsley tealeaf #fjord #jester lavorre #chocfic

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wrenhyperfixates · 4 years

Text

Don’t Gotta Work it Out

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: A particularly nasty fight rattles your relationship with Loki. Even as both of you wonder if you’re not meant to work things out, you long to be in each other’s arms. But can you make amenjds before your hope is gone? Warnings: mentions of depression; angst, some more angst, then a lot more angst, and finally a fluffy ending A/N: inspired by the song Don’t Gotta Work it Out by Fitz and the Tantrums. I’m experimenting with a new style, so flashbacks in italics! Hope you enjoy :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki had signed himself up for the mission before the words even left Tony’s mouth. He didn’t care where he was going or what he was doing, just so long as he was away from you. You’d gotten into a fight—a bad one. Somehow, Loki’s way of dealing with it was running away. Whether that was because of pride, pettiness, or cowardice, he wasn’t really sure. Then again, he was avoiding thinking about it as much as possible.

“I have volunteered for a mission,” he told you, the sentence short and clipped as he entered your shared quarters. “I leave at midnight.”

“Oh,” you replied, rolling over on your bed so you were facing your boyfriend. He’d already grabbed his bag and started packing. “That’s nice.”

A small hum of acknowledgement was all he made in the way of a response. He perched on the edge of the bed as he tugged on his boots. Right as he finished with the last buckle and was making ready to stand, your arms suddenly encircled his waist. For a minute, the room was filled with hesitation and quiet breathing, a spell of tension only broken when Loki’s hand alighted on top of yours. Not to say everything was fixed between you two, but the anxious energy in the room calmed a bit.

“Just... Come back safe, ok?” you said, your voice so soft, it just barely registered in his mind.

“Alright,” he whispered back. Your forehead rested in between his shoulder blades, and his thumb involuntarily began rubbing small circles on your skin. “I will.”

How Loki wished for more, for the passionate kisses that you usually shared before a mission. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen now. It might even be wrong considering how mad you were at each other, everything you’d said. Though, if it really was wrong, Loki didn’t think he much would have minded; it still would have felt good. Felt normal. Not like whatever messed up situation you were in right now.

You and the trickster god had been dating for over a year and, as any couple would, had a few squabbles. But nothing like what you’d gone through the other day. Loki shuddered now, just thinking about it. It started out stupid, as these things tend to, but turned into something much more serious. He tried to push it from his mind as you placed a featherlight kiss to the base of his neck. Then you pulled away, hugging your knees to your chest. Now it was Loki’s turn to look at you. His hand hovered above your knee for a second before he lost his nerve and let it fall to the mattress.

“I have to go now,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”

You nodded, and Loki walked to the door, looking back at you one last time. You’d already rolled over so your back was to him again, but he could tell you were crying from the way you were breathing. It made his heart break, but all he could do was whisper a small “I love you” and hope you heard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Oh. You’re awake,” you said, entering your quarters.

“I am,” Loki replied, staring at the fire crackling in the hearth. There was an open book in his lap, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long ago he’d given up on reading in favor of a contemplative trance, looking at the flames. “And you are home now. Are we all caught up?”

“Ok, it’s past someone’s bedtime,” you answered him, catching on to the ice in his voice. “And no, we’re not all caught up. What’s wrong?”

“You could have invited me.”

You’d gone bowling with roughly half the team, only leaving a note for Loki so he knew where you were. You huffed as you tossed your keys onto the dresser. Leaning back on it, you surveyed his face, set in a harsh manner.

“Sorry,” you shrugged. “You were in the shower, and I knew you wouldn’t want to come, anyway.”

“And what if I did?”

“Then, sorry again. You can come next time.”

“Oh, can I now?”

You pushed off the dresser and walked over to him, rubbing his shoulders a little. He didn’t shake you off, but he didn’t relax at all either. You frowned and walked around to the front of the chair, planting yourself in his lap. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, but his face was still stuck in a scowl.

“What’s this really about?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It hardly matters.”

You clenched your jaw a bit. You love Loki, but it’s hard to deal with him when he gets like this.

“If you’re going to brush it off,” you said, forcing a smile, “then don’t act so obviously upset and angry. I’m always here to talk, but if you’re not going to, then don’t pick a fight.”

“It seems to me you are the one picking a fight.”

“Yeah, ok. Whatever,” you snapped, standing up. You waited for him to clench his fists or give some sign he was feeling something, but he was as unreadable as ever. “I’ll just never have fun without you. Sound good?”

“You are blowing this out of proportion, darling,” he drawled. “You can calm down.”

“Oh, can I now?” you answered with a smug smile, the petty parts of you egging you on to parrot back his words from earlier.

He sprung up from his chair and approached you fast as lightning. It startled you, and you gasped, walking until your back was against the wall. Loki menaced over you, placing one hand next to your head. He made sure to leave the other side open so you could get away if you really wanted to. You didn’t, instead staring defiantly into his eyes.

“You should,” he growled. “Just invite me next time and drop this nonsense.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as he made to spin away from you. “Just because no one’s ever cared to listen to you before doesn’t mean you get to make yourself a martyr.”

Your hands immediately flew to your mouth. Loki had shared everything about his past with you. Really and truly, every painful memory. Every ugly, gritty moment. You knew how much stuff like that damaged him. He spun back around, rage plain on his face, and a deep hurt lurking behind his eyes.

“Loki, I’m so sorry,” you said, rushing toward him. “I didn’t mean-”

He put up a hand to stop both your words and approach. “No. I think you did. It is my fault for believing a mortal of all beings could have any depth of understanding, of feeling. For thinking you could love me. The joke is on me, I suppose, hmm?”

He scoffed and stalked toward the door, refusing to let you see the tears in his eyes. He was yanking on the knob before you could even say his name again. The last thing he saw before slamming the door behind him was you crumpling on the ground in a sobbing mess. As he stomped down the hall, his own tears began to pour.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Loki, are you even trying to sleep?” Bruce asked from across the hotel room.

Tony had taken a room for himself and stuck Bruce and Loki together in an adjoining one. Thankfully, it had two beds, but Loki was still a little pissed. Honestly, he’d considered just skipping the hotel and going on a walk, a long walk. Instead, he was laying with his eyes open and glued to the ceiling, reliving the fight in his mind over and over again.

“Yes, Banner, I am,” the god huffed. “I am just not having any success.”

“Is there... something on your mind?” Bruce hesitantly asked. He and Loki were far from best friends, but he figured it would be considerate to ask.

“Actually, there is,” he sighed.

“Do you, uh, want to... talk about it?”

“Yes,” he sighed. “I suppose you are a doctor, after all.”

“Not that kind but-”

“My beloved and I have gotten into an argument, and now I am on this mission. So, we have not made up. I fear we never will.”

“Oh, come one. I’ve seen you two. How bad could it be?”

Loki sighed and sat up on the bed, recounting the story. He did his best to keep the tears out of his eyes and emotion out of his voice, and was met with far more success on the first front than the second.

“Yikes,” Bruce said when he finished. “I mean, they tried to say they didn’t mean it. And I’m sure you didn’t either. So maybe just try to talk?”

“Perhaps. Or maybe we are not supposed to work it out.”

“That’s crazy. Look at you right now; you can’t stop thinking about them.”

“And do you think they are thinking of me?”

“You know what, yeah. I do.”

Loki just mumbled his thanks and flipped onto his side so he was facing the wall now. Bruce went back to sleep, and Loki prayed that slumber would claim him. It did not, and he spent the whole night wishing for you. That he had never said those awful things. That he had never even been given the opportunity to know you, for if he didn’t, he never would have hurt you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You laid on the floor crying for hours. The notion that Loki would come back and wrap you in a hug and talk about what happened didn’t leave you be for hours. And then, all of a sudden, it did. Then you just felt empty and tired. Somehow, you managed to pick yourself up and drag yourself into bed, still in your clothes from the day. You waited another hour, still believing Loki would come back, if even just to lay beside you in the bed you shared and say nothing. When it became clear he wouldn’t, you submit to the tears still stinging the back of your eyes, and cried yourself to sleep.

Waking up the next morning, you didn’t immediately remember what had happened. You felt the empty space next to you where your boyfriend usually was. You listened for the running water of the shower that you could always hear on the mornings he wasn’t beside you. The silence was deafening.

“Loki?” you called out to the vacant room.

Only the echo of your voice answered you. Suddenly, the memory of the night before came crashing back into your mind. A strangled sob escaped your lips. You desperately looked around, frantically searching, begging, for some sort of sign that he’d returned in the night and had just left before you awakened. There was no indication that such a thing had happened.

Moving on autopilot, you found yourself in the shower. You tried to wash, but mainly just stood there and let the scalding spray run over you. Eventually, the stream turned cold as you used up the last of the warm water. You always enjoyed how plushy the towels in the Tower were, but you hardly noticed it as you dried off. Some water still dripping off you, you pulled on your robe. The mirror revealed that your eyes were still a little puffy from crying. Your pruny fingers touched the reddened skin, but you couldn’t be bothered to do anything to cover it up.

“You’re back,” you gasped, walking back out into the bedroom.

He was sitting in a chair, different from the one last night, this time actually reading the book he had. He looked so composed that it made you embarrassed by your appearance. You were sure he was just as much a mess on the inside as you were, though. At least you hoped he was.

“Mhm,” he replied. “And you are dripping on the carpet.”

You looked down where, surely enough, a small wet spot was gathering from the droplets rolling off your body. Everything was moving at half speed in your mind because of how drained you were, both physically and emotionally.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

He didn’t even really acknowledge it as he sidestepped around you and into the bathroom. A few seconds later, you heard the shower turn on. Summoning all your strength, you managed to get dressed for the day, encasing yourself in your most comfortable clothes. You looked at the door and considered getting something to eat, but the pull of your warm blankets was too great. The bed, devoid of your lover, reminded you too much of last night, though. You grabbed the blankets off and swaddled yourself in them on the couch. You tried to shut out the world and go back to sleep. It didn’t work.

“Darling?” Loki softly called as the bathroom door opened.

You wanted to reply, you really did, but it felt like too much effort to peel your eyes open and will your voice to work. So, you listened as he padded over to where you were. He sighed and left, leaving your quarters silent once more. You didn’t even have the energy left to cry.

Roughly ten minutes later, you heard the god come back in and set something on the coffee table. The aroma of pancakes, bacon, and tea flooded your senses seconds after, and you felt your heart somehow swell and break at the same moment. Loki’s hand softly touched your cheek and caressed it so gently, it seemed he was afraid you might break.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he whispered.

Loki kissed the top of your head as gently as he had touched your cheek, his damp hair tickling your skin. He stood up and, though you couldn’t see, felt him turn and look at you once more. Then the door closed, and the strength to cry returned to your body.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Please, Steve,” you beseeched. “Just tell me where he is.”

“I’m sorry, you know I can’t.” He truly did look hurt that he had to keep this from you, especially when he noticed the tears welling in your eyes. “It’s top secret.”

You were trying to figure out where Loki was, if he was ok. You should have asked him more about the mission; he would have told you where he was going, rules be damned. But you hadn’t, so he hadn’t, and now he’d been gone for three days with no word on when he’d return. You tried his cell phone, but Steve had at least informed you that they had to turn off anything that could be tracked for the mission.

You felt so awful about what you’d said, the guilt gnawing at your heart every minute of every day, every dream of every night. If he were to die before you could work it out... you just didn’t know what you would do. Even if you never made up, you just needed him to make it back safely. Maybe you didn’t have to work it out, shouldn’t. Maybe you were a toxic poison ruining his life. Refusing to cry in front of Steve, you pushed the thought from your mind.

“But he’s my boyfriend. Doesn’t that count for something more than the rules?” you pleaded, the look of desperation in your eyes only growing.

“Sorry, but it doesn’t. Look, it would be different if you were married. What I can tell you,” he said with a sigh, and a quick glance over his shoulder, “is that he’s alive and safe.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled. “I guess that’s something, at least. When will he be back?”

“Soon, ok?”

“Ok,” you sniffled again.

You trudged over to the couch in the common room, trying to spend time someplace other than your room for the first time since the fight. Besides quick meals, you’d just been moping in your quarters. The thought crossed your mind that you were probably depressed, that you should get up and exercise or move about. Despite the knowledge of that, you couldn’t actually muster up the willpower to act on it. Instead, you flipped on the TV and pulled the blanket hanging over the back of the sofa snugly around your shoulders. The voice of Gordon Ramsey faded into background noise as you stared out the window, foolishly and fruitlessly hoping that you’d see Loki’s ship flying in.

“Monday,” Steve sighed, setting a mug of hot chocolate on a coaster for you.

“What?” you asked, slightly bewildered after abruptly being pulled from your trance.

“Don’t tell anyone I told you, but Loki’s coming back on Monday.” Steve sat beside you and comfortingly pat your back as you expressed your gratitude. “Can I give you some advice, though?”

“Please.”

“Whatever happened between you two, you can work it out. I promise.”

“I just feel so bad, Steve. I said something horrible that I never should have.” You bit your lip before continuing, nervous you were oversharing. The way your companion was sympathetically nodding his head, however, urged you on. “And then he said something awful too. And now he’s gone, and no one will even tell me where to find him. Maybe it’s a sign that we shouldn’t work it out. That we’re not right for each other.”

“Come on, that’s just the fear talking. I know sometimes the team grumbles about you guys, but it’s only because you’re so sweet together.” He waited for some sign of recognition that what he was saying was true to click on your face before continuing. “Take it from me, you don’t want to let an opportunity to pass you by; even more so when it comes to being with someone you love. You have to make the most of every moment. But you also have to be willing to work through your disagreements, even if they’re particularly bad. Heck, especially then.”

“Thanks, Steve.” You managed a smile. It was small, but it was also the first one that had made its way onto your face in nearly a week. Not only did you realize you had great friends surrounding you, but you felt a spark of hope that you could repair things with Loki. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. Now, want to come for a training session? Take your mind off things for a bit?”

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m still not really feeling up to it. But soon, I promise,” you added when a flash of worry danced across his face.

He gave a nod and one final friendly pat on the shoulder, then was off. You went back to staring out the window, now gently sipping on your cocoa. It was still a bit too hot, and it burnt your tongue a little. You knew you should wait until it cooled, but the pain kept you tethered to the earth instead of floating away. You also knew what Loki would say to that so, after a few more sips, you set it down to let it become a more drinkable temperature. As you waited, you let your mind be filled with thoughts of Loki, wondering if he was thinking of you too. Soon, your eyes were drooping shut, and you succumbed to dreams of happier times with your beloved.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the day passed much the same, with you pretending to be asleep. Loki knew you were awake at some point, at least, to eat the food he’d brought. Otherwise, he would have flown into a panic that his little mortal was unwell. Or, more unwell than just in an emotional sense, anyway. There was one point where he saw your eyes crack open and look at him as he sat nearby, switching between reading and thinking. You didn’t say anything, though, so neither did he.

“Brother?” Thor said, knocking at the door. “Are you two in there?”

Loki rushed to the door and, opening it, shushed the God of Thunder. He gently closed the door behind him as not to wake you, thinking you may really be asleep now.

“We are, brother,” he whispered. “Why?”

“The team has not seen either of you all day. Is everything alright? Are either of you ill? Or perhaps you’re just having fun in there?” Thor playfully elbowed his brother in the ribs and suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh, and why are we whispering?”

“Because my beloved is sleeping.” Loki felt a prick of fear in his heart. Maybe he had lost the privilege of calling you his beloved. “We are ok. Relatively.”

“Relatively?”

“Yes. We... We had a fight,” Loki exhaled. “It was not pretty.”

“But you are going to work it out, right?” Thor sighed when Loki said nothing. “Oh, come on, brother. You must talk to them.”

“I will. At some point.”

With some final words of encouragement, Thor let his brother be. Loki took a deep breath and reentered his room. You were sitting up on the couch, twiddling with your thumbs, eyes cast down. He tentatively sat at the end by your feet. Elbows on his knees, he buried his head in his hands.

“Well,” he said to the floor, “are we going to talk about it?”

He felt you flinch at how angry he sounded, while he mentally kicked himself for the same reason. He peeked out from behind his hands, trying to compose himself so he could speak to you in a calm voice.

“I mean,” you said, “if that’s what you want.”

“Oh, and you do not want it?” he snapped, silently cursing himself again.

“Please,” you scoffed, “don’t do anything for my sake.”

Now you were both angry at yourselves, and completely honestly, the other too. When it became clear neither of you was going to say anything else, Loki stood to leave. He spun back around when he heard you mumble something under your breath.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said in a too-sweet voice, making the pet name sound more like a threat or a mockery than anything else. “I did not quite get that. Would you like to speak up?”

“Yeah,” you snarled, this time loud enough for him to hear. “I said, ‘so you’re really just gonna walk out again, huh?’”

“Oh, allow me to apologize. I must have been making myself a martyr again, hmm? Was that not what you said last night? Or perhaps that was just me blowing things out of proportion again?” He looked down at you as a panic flooded every inch of your body. Loki wanted to stop, but his floodgates had been opened. “But I thought that no one cared to listen to me. Again, I do believe those are your words, not mine.”

“That’s not- I didn’t- I’m not-” you struggled to form a coherent sentence. “I didn’t mean that!”

“No? But it is what you said. Perhaps it was that ever condemning Freudian slip of the tongue? Or do you think yourself so special, mortal, that you care? For I know no one else ever has; I did not need you to tell me that,” he spat.

“You know what?” you laughed without mirth. “You’re right, this isn’t what I want.”

Loki knew he’d pushed too far. His voice grew immensely softer as he spoke again. Not in a kind way, but in a way that showed he was afraid.

“And what exactly, do you mean by ‘this’?”

“This, what we’re doing now. I don’t know what it is, but if it’s your way of talking about what’s wrong and working it out, it’s not what I want. I guess you should just go, Loki.”

Loki hated himself. No, that wasn’t strong enough. He loathed himself, utterly and completely. He slammed the door behind him, and immediately sank back against it, falling to the floor. Neither of you heard the other’s sobs over your the sound of your own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though Monday was only two days after Steve told you it would be the date of Loki’s arrival, it felt like years elapsed in those forty-eight hours. By some miracle that, you thought with a tiny laugh, Loki would have said was thanks to the Norns, you managed to get yourself into a presentable state. Shower? Check. Teeth brushed? Check. Eyes normal and not red from crying? As checked as it could be.

Steve had promised that he’d get Loki to go to your room straight away. You figured if you two were going to have it out again, it should be in private. Though, you were hoping it would go a great deal better than last time. You could only hope that some time and space was all the two of you would need to finally work through this.

Your breath hitched in your throat as the doorknob turned and Loki shuffled in. The door softly clicked shut behind him, and you tried to quell your worry that your conversation would end with him slamming it again. He dropped his bag at his feet, and for a second, the world stopped. You just looked at each other, both too afraid to end the moment of peace.

“I am back,” he gently said, opening his arms to you.

You took a single hesitant step forward before fully launching yourself into his arms. He caught you with surprising grace, and though he seemed unsure of himself, calmly rubbed your back.

“Can we... Can we try again?” you asked, pulling back enough so you could look into his beautiful, blue-green eyes. “The working things out, I mean. Can we try that again?”

“Yes, my darling.” The pet name had returned to something more gentle, holding the usual care and affection it did. “I’d love nothing more.”

Hand in hand, you walked toward the couch. This time you sat with bodies angling towards each other, already starting off on a high note. It made both of you feel the other was much more willing to listen to what you had to say.

“Shall I start?” he asked, cupping your cheek.

“No, I want to go first.” Your hand rested on top of his and you leaned into his touch. “If that’s alright with you?”

“It is. Please, speak your mind, my sweet.”

You took a steadying breath before you began. “Look, I’m so sorry for what I said. I was frustrated, and I lashed out. But that’s no excuse for it. I never in a million years should have said what I did. It was wrong and insensitive. And I do care for you so, so much on so, so many different levels. I’m sorry I ever made you doubt that. I will spend every day of the rest of my life reassuring you that I love you, Loki. I love you.”

“I accept your apology, and I love you, too.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, but you knew it was from happiness. After all, several tears of the same emotion had fallen down your own cheeks. “Now, it is my turn to say I am sorry. I was unreceptive, pushy, snappy, and cruel. I should not have responded in that manner, and I should have been more open to working through the problem. My insecurities got the better of me, but I promise I will try to keep them at bay. Because I have you, darling, and I love you. And I have no doubt that you do feel the same.”

“I forgive you, too, Loki. I’m ready to put this behind us if you are.”

“Absolutely I am,” he replied, smiling—really smiling—for what felt like the first time in a century. “And, if I may be so bold, I do believe we have a week’s worth of kisses to make up for.”

“The math checks out,” you giggled, leaning in. “I certainly wouldn’t be opposed if you wanted to start playing catch up now.”

“It is like you have read my mind.”

You gave him one quick peck on the lips before he pulled you flush against him and kissed you like there was no tomorrow. Maybe it was because he’d been so worried that there wouldn’t be. But, in the end, there was. Because you worked it out. Because you loved each other. Because you were two hearts connected as one in the crazy journey called life. And you’d always find a way to work through your differences. For, deep down, you both knew you were meant to be together, would always find your way back to each other. There was nothing either of you believed more, and you’d never doubt it again.

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writemekpop · 4 years

Text

Lipstick On Your Collar (Part 1) | Nakamoto Yuta

Pairing: Nakamoto Yuta x Reader

Summary: Till death do us part... But what happens when he cheats?

Genre: Husband!Yuta, Angst

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Infidelity, Sexual Content, Body Image

Gif: @yuthereal

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Ten more minutes, then it’s homework time, alright?” you called to your two older sons, eight and four years old. Caught up in their wooden sword fight, they didn’t even look up.

You smoothed your hand over your face, eyes bruised from lack of sleep. Between your banking job and your three kids, sleep was a rare thing.

Just then, you felt a waft of chill air. Yuta strode in through the front door, his feathery black hair in disarray.

“Hey babe,” you called, shoulders relaxing.

Your husband had this calming presence, your island on a rough ocean. Your chest ached for Yuta’s warmth. You hadn’t hugged, kissed… touched in months.

“Hi, Y/n. We need to talk,” Yuta deadpanned.

You picked up your baby daughter Ayumi. She needed her nappy changed. Bad.

“Alright. What’s up?” You placed her on the changing mat, blowing your fringe out of your eyes.

“I mean in private.” You saw that Yuta’s face was stretched and white. A knot curled in your stomach.

“Nappies?” You lifted your hand. He begrudgingly handed them over.

“Y/n. This is serious.” Yuta’s voice quivered like a taut string.

“Can’t you see I’m busy? What is it?” you snapped. You instantly regretted it. Nowadays, you were always on the edge of an explosion.

“Okay. Fine. I’ve… messed up. And I’m sorry, and I didn’t mean it, but… it’s happened.”

You bin Ayumi’s old nappy, then pull her into your arms. “Is that all? Look, if you’ve broken something, we have insurance.”

“This isn’t a bloody plate! I’ve- I’ve done something awful.”

“Right. Well done. Anyway, I have to help the kids with their homework.”

“Just look at me, Y/n! I’m trying to fucking tell you something!” Yuta’s yell turned your head.

Yuta’s eyes were red-rimmed and wide, like he was in shock. “I… cheated on you, Y/n. I slept with someone else.”

Your heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Instinctively, you pulled your baby close.

“Who is she?”

“Diya. From the school.”

Your lips went numb. You put Ayumi down in her rocker and started rinsing plates in the sink. “How long?”

“Just once. It was a mistake, I swear… it’s just, she was there, and… I didn’t plan it!”

Your chest folded in on itself. While you were kissing your babies to sleep, Yuta was kissing someone else.

“When was it, Yuta?”

“The… day you… went to stay with your sister.”

You’d never forget that day.

It was a few weeks after Ayumi was born. You couldn’t seem to get out of bed, let alone be a good mother. So you’d escaped… just for a day.

While you were breaking apart, Yuta searched out another woman.

“Where?” You picked up the cutlery, letting the hot water scald your skin.

“Her apartment. We met up after work, and one thing led to another… I swear, that was all.”

Images burned into your mind, like a flashed camera. Yuta’s fingernails scraping the back of her neck, like he did to you. Their naked bodies gyrating, sweaty, the smell of sex saturating everything…

Your throat convulsed in a retch. For a second, it was like a brick was hitting your chest.

Then, everything stopped.

You felt a curtain dropping. You didn’t have time to deal with this. Not now. As quickly as they came, the feelings slowed. Drooped. Vanished.

You looked down. You were clenching a table knife so hard it had drawn blood. You let go.

Everything blurred. You felt like a kid again, staring up at yourself from the bottom of a pool.

Your voice was a croak. “Obviously, we’re not telling the kids. My parents are coming next week – so we can’t tell them either.”

You dried your hands and looked up at Yuta. His mouth was hanging open, like a cartoon character’s. It was almost funny.

You continued speaking, bunging toys into a basket.

“If you want a divorce, tell me now, because we’ll have to borrow money. For tonight, I’ll take the bed, you have the couch.”

“What the hell, Y/n?”

You jolt and look up. “Fine! You can have the bed.”

Yuta grabbed your shoulders, knife-cheekboned and wild. “I don’t care about the fucking bed! I just told you I cheated on you. Why aren’t you mad?”

You stared at his hands on your skin, like you didn’t recognise them. Yuta spotted your gaze, and slowly let go.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. I want to fix this. But you need to let me in.”

You looked into his chestnut eyes and frowned. Why was he being so obnoxious?

Slowly, you spelled it out. “You cheated on me. It was with our kids’ tutor, while I was sick. You’re sorry. You won’t do it again. Now can I go and make dinner?”

Yuta blinked. Slowly. Then, he gulped and gave you a slight nod. “Yep.”

You pushed past him, and called out, “Whoever helps mummy with dinner gets ice cream!”

You ushered your eager kids towards the hob. You didn’t look back, but you felt Yuta’s gaze on the back of your head. Stunned.

------

You plastered on your brightest smile all throughout dinner, whilst laying out bedding on the couch for yourself, even whilst tucking your children into bed.

Now, you were sitting in your children’s room, with the lights out. You’d just finished reading their bedtime story. They were fast asleep.

Finally, you let the iron screen lift from your heart. Instead of fighting it, you bared the most vulnerable part of yourself.

It was a memory: you were in Paris with Yuta on the first night of your honeymoon. You were in a mid-range Travel Lodge – the best you could afford – with rain pelting at the windows.

You had woken up at 11AM, tangled up with Yuta from your cuddling. You’d talked, worried, agonised about it, but you’d never had sex with him before.

Yuta opened one sleepy eye and felt your body with his hands, as if he was checking if it was there. You tingled with lust to the tips of your toes. Suddenly, you knew the moment was right.

For once, you didn’t care about your tummy that you always tried to hide, you didn’t care about your thighs which rubbed together when you walked.

You didn’t think about anything, except the feeling of Yuta’s slow kisses, the feeling of him inside of you, the feeling of his hands reaching to the very ends of you.

You were in a hazy, golden pool of completeness. As you gasped your worries, apologies, in each other’s ears, you became whole in a way you’d never known before.

Then, the memory shattered. And in its place, before you could stop it, was the image that was burnt into your eyelids.

It played over and over again, the trailer to a movie of your shame. Yuta in her apartment, the thumping of the bedposts, him between her legs, her exclamations of ‘yes!’, that were only echoed by him moaning her name…

You screamed silently into your fist.

You knew the real reason Yuta cheated on you. Whatever excuses he made, it wasn’t a mistake or a drunk one-off.

You grabbed the soft flesh around your waist. This was why. You thought of the nights you’d told him you were too tired, that you weren’t in the mood. That was why.

You couldn’t even blame Yuta. He was only compensating for the fact that his own wife would never be attractive enough, good enough, just enough for him.

The tears rose up your throat, making your head pound and your cheeks stretch with sobs. You wanted nothing more than to drown yourself in these tears, though you knew they wouldn’t wash the pain away.

Then, you caught a grey glimmer in the darkness. Your youngest boy, Nico, was wide awake and watching you with saucer eyes.

“Hey baby… go back to sleep,” you whispered, quickly smoothing away your tears.

“Are you crying, mummy?”

The softness in his gaze was like a punch in the stomach. You choked down another wave of tears. “No, sweetie, I’m fine. Go back to sleep okay?”

Obediently, he closed his eyes. You didn’t deserve such beautiful children.

You were doubled over, silent in the darkness. You pressed your palms into your eyes, so hard they hurt, and forced the tears back.

You couldn’t even make your husband love you.

What hope did you have with your kids?

------

Three days had passed since that terrible night.

It was 10PM, and the house was unusually quiet.

You and Yuta were sitting at the far edges of the couch, the Netflix episode you never missed playing on the TV.

Both of you were pretending like nothing had gone wrong.

“So… how was work?” Yuta’s cautious voice broke the silence.

You sighed and shook your head. “Just get me a drink.” You couldn’t be bothered with this charade. But at least you could drown your feelings.

“Are you sure that’s a good-” Yuta began.

“Just get it.”

He returned with a whisky, with two ice cubes. Your heart twisted. “You remembered?”

“How could I forget my wife’s favourite drink?” Yuta gave you a thin smile, and for a second, you forgot to ice him out. You smiled back.

That was two whiskies ago. Now, the gap between the two of you on the sofa had shrunk.

You were laughing so hard your eyes were teary.

“Do you remember, Y/n? Your shirt was on backwards, my pants were on the other side of the room, we were moaning so loud half the theme park could hear us!”

You dried your eyes, sighing. “I bet we scarred a few kids for life that day…”

Yuta’s lip curled up in a smile that sent your heart racing.

You looked down. Subconsciously, your hand was massaging Yuta’s denim-clad knee. You retracted it.

“God, we really knew how to have fun, didn’t we?” You could barely remember the time before you had your three children. It was rose-coloured.

“I mean, Disneyland was nothing. Remember Taeyong’s attic? The nightclub bathroom? I could go on…”

“Ahh!” You mimed blocking your ears. “There are kids in the house, you know!”

In doing so, you lost your grip on your whisky glass, which was balanced on your knee. Yuta grabbed it before it fell, and his hand was suddenly on your thigh.

He let go, and you cleared your throat.

That was hours back. Now, you were having difficulty sitting straight. You’d lost count of how many whiskies you’d downed.

You grabbed Yuta by the shoulders and shook him. “Look! Let’s just get it out of the way. ASAP, straight, completo. No regrets.”

For the first time in ages, your blood was running warm with more than alcohol. The worn denim of Yuta’s jeans was pulling your gaze southward.

“Get what out of the way? You’re not making sense, Y/n.”

You pulled the pin out of your hair and let it fall over your shoulders. “The big three-letter.”

Yuta looked at you, still bewildered. “What?”

“SEX.”

The glass fell from Yuta’s hand.

To be continued…

Part 1 ⭐| Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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gimmesumsuga · 4 years

Text

Ps. I woof you

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Word count: 26K

Summary: The one with a happy accident of the furry, four-legged kind - “Are you calling my dog a slut?!”

Warnings: Extreme fluff and domesticity, cursing, mild angst, smut inclusive of: fingering, oral sex (female receiving) and unprotected penetrative sex

** Click here to read on Archive of our own (AO3) should the read more on mobile not work due to fic length **

Thank you @readyplayerhobi for my super cute banner and @johobi for the gorgeous moodboard! ^^

“Seriously?!” Sitting up with a suddenness that borders on miraculous given how fast asleep you were just a few blissful moments ago, you glare out into the darkness that fills your room.

The wall opposite your bed may as well be vibrating, so insistent is the thud of bass that’s thumping through from the apartment next door, and if you thought you were pissed about being so rudely awakened in the middle of the night, that’s nothing compared to the indignance of your dog, Remi. Barking her head off, you’re met by the sight of her pacing up and down the span of the wall once you turn on the light, blinking as your eyes adjust to the offending brightness.

“This is just so not the time,” you hiss as you swing your legs out of bed and then stalk across the room to hammer your fist against the plaster, swearing under your breath. Usually, you’re quite quick to try and stifle Remi when she gets her knickers all in a twist, but not right now - not when her yapping is perfectly justified and the dog next door then has the sheer gall to start barking back.

“Oh, it’s on,” you grit out through your teeth, banging your fist against the wall with renewed vigour ‘til your fist is sore and Remi’s so worked up that she’s up on her hind legs pawing the paintwork right alongside you.

Thankfully, your next-door neighbour soon gets the message and turns off his music, no doubt feeling cowed at having been met with such vehement disapproval from the opposite side of the wall. You sigh, satisfied, but it seems Remi has no such intention of letting it go so lightly, her barking match with her nemesis next door carrying on despite the battle being over.

“Hey, hey,” you hush as you squat down to her level, running your fingers through her fur, “It’s ok, you can stop now, Rem. We won, it’s ok.” She quietens slightly at the reassuring tone of your voice but, stubborn as she is, she remains determined to get the last bark in, growling low in her throat and staring at the wall until she’s absolutely sure that the dog next door has been forced to back down.

She’s always been the same; vocal even as a pup. She’s a canine of very few faults (or so you like to believe), but you’ll admit that she can be a little too loud at times - a little too quick to run her mouth off at the slightest unfamiliar noise despite you discouraging her from it as best you can.

It was actually one of the reasons you and your ex broke up, as silly as that sounds. He’d always been intolerant of Remi’s noise - of anything being anything other than perfectly perfect, frankly - and the final straw had come when one day, in a fit of red-faced rage, he’d taken off his shoe and thrown it at her from across the room. She’d yelped and ran off to hide, and that’d been it. By dinner time that evening, he’d been in the process of moving out his things. A two-year relationship over, just like that.

Good riddance, as far as you were concerned. Remi was your roommate years before he ever had been; your loyalties lay with her, as they do to this day.

And boy, does she know it. You think it to yourself now, as you lay back down in bed and she sits at your bedside with her chin rested on the covers looking up at you with her big, brown puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh come on then,” you grumble, shifting over and patting the space you’ve made for her atop the duvet. She leaps up, tail wagging, and quickly circles on the spot before lying down snuggled up against you, exhaling noisily in contentment as you fuss her soft, pointed ears. “You’re never going to make any friends if you keep barking at everyone all the time, you know.” Remi closes her eyes, utterly unrepentant.

Not that it’ll soon matter what the next-door neighbours think of you, that is - not if you don’t ace the interview that you’re due to attend in a disgustingly short amount of time. You really should’ve gone to bed earlier, given that the ability to pay your rent is now riding on exactly three and a half hours sleep should you not manage to drift off again for what little time you have left before your alarm is set.

Luckily, the slow rise and fall of Remi’s soft little body lying next to yours proves as soothing as you’d hoped it would, and you’re able to steal a couple of hours more of precious sleep before having to drag your unwilling carcass out of bed and into a pair of high heels. Full of nerves, you bite your nails the whole way there and are forced to make a pitstop in a public restroom prior to your arrival (nervous bowels for the win), but despite all that, you get the feeling the interview actually goes rather well. It’s not for anything fancy, mind - a retail position at one of the more high-end-but-not-quite-designer clothing stores in the city - but the woman quizzing you seems friendly enough, all nods and smiles and shiny white teeth. You even manage to make her laugh, which is impressive given how lame your sense of humour can get when you’re nervous.

She tells you that you can expect to hear back by the end of the working day, and whilst at first that sounds perfectly reasonable, by the time you’ve gotten home and changed into something more comfortable you’re already going out of your mind. Remi seems to pick up on your unease, too, sitting dutifully by your side as you glance at the arm of the sofa where your phone lies every other second, her little ears alert and twitching.

It’s only after you’ve checked it’s not on silent for perhaps the hundredth time that you finally decide you’ve had enough. Decisive, you rise to your feet and slip on your shoes before grabbing Remi’s lead from where it hangs by the side of the door.

“Who wants to go on a walk, huh?” you offer, but having already seen you reach for her lead, Remi is already beside herself with excitement. Atop her back her fuzzy little tail is wagging up a storm, dusting back and forth across the floor once she finally calms down enough to plop her bottom down onto the laminate and let you actually attach her to the thing.

“Ok, ok, don’t pull,” you murmur mostly for your own benefit as you open up the door and then pause to lock up, her lead looped around your wrist. Heaven knows Remi’s not listening anyway - not when she’s this wound up. “Jeez, I’m coming!” you complain, turning on the spot when she yaps impatiently only to take one step towards the staircase and then come to a complete stop once you realise someone’s already coming up the other way.

That someone being Min Yoongi, your aforementioned next-door neighbour, and his dog, a little toy poodle you’re not entirely sure of the name of.

If you’re honest, you’re barely on a first-name basis with the man himself, nevermind his canine companion. You’re fairly certain you remember him introducing himself when you first moved in, but other than that you’ve had very little to do with each other since then apart from the one time you accidentally picked up his mail and he came knocking on your door in search of it. You remember thinking he was cute, too, back then, but despite the smiles that you’ve offered up whenever you may pass in the hall, Yoongi has remained somewhat of a mystery.

Is he just shy, perhaps? Or is he really as aloof and disinterested as the perma-furrow in his brow might have you believe?

Of course, as soon as Remi spots the other dog she starts whimpering and pulling even more with the want to go and say hello, which is ridiculous, really, because you know as the moment the poodle comes close she’ll turn tail and run - which lo and behold, she does. Their noses have barely touched when she jumps backwards and then scampers to hide behind your legs, tangling you up in her lead as she goes.

“Oh Remi, you big wuss!” you sigh as you fight to shuffle backwards enough for Yoongi and his dog to actually be able to get past - a task easier said than done given that the poodle seems set on chasing after her, tangling you up even more.

“Holly, leave it,” you hear Yoongi warn as you peer down at the dogs dancing between your legs, praying for Remi not to do anything that might embarrass the both of you.

She’s never been aggressive before - all bark and no bite through and through - but there’s always a first time…

As if right on cue, Remi releases a deep, rumbling growl as a warning once it becomes apparent that Holly doesn’t have any intention of backing off without a fight. You cringe at the sound, embarrassed.

“Hey! Be nice!” you scold as the other dog very quickly turns tail and runs back to his owner, startled. You feel your cheeks fill with heat as Yoongi scoops Holly off the ground and into his arms, making a mental note to not give Remi any of her usual bedtime treats this evening.

“I’m really sorry about that,” you gush despite Remi looking anything but, sat scratching herself at your feet without a care in the world.

“It’s fine,” Yoongi shrugs, glancing down at Holly with a hint of a smile, “‘Bout time someone put him in his place.” You can’t quite think what to say to that - caught off guard by how very different Yoongi looks when there’s a smile on his face rather than a frown.

Yeah, he’s definitely cute. Cute button nose? Check. Honey-boy smile? Check. Even the dye job on his hair is better than your own - a deep mahogany red to suit the changing of the seasons.

Your silence earns you a quizzical look but no further comment, and mentally you kick yourself for being such an absolute loser as Yoongi turns and heads back towards his apartment, Holly still cradled in his arms.

"And I'm sorry about last night!" you call after him like the unstoppable moron you are.

Why would you bring that up?! There's nothing but more awkwardness in-store by mentioning that, surely?!

Still, deep down you feel obliged to offer some sort of apology. After all, you expect Yoongi would have had the pleasure of having to overhear some of yours and your ex's more colourful arguments in the past. Not to mention the fact that Remi decides to bark every time she sees a bicycle on the television screen.

“It’s just… I had an interview this morning,” you explain as he slowly turns back around to face you again, one eyebrow slightly raised, “And I already went to bed late, so…”

“Don’t worry about it.” You wonder if you’re imagining the way Yoongi averts his gaze and seems to shrink in on himself a little bit as he looks at Holly rather than you. “I should apologise. I didn’t realise how late it was. Lose track of time when inspiration hits.”

“Oh, that was you?” you enquire before stopping to think that maybe Yoongi might not want to share any further. He appears to hesitate before answering, but when he does he offers you a small smile and another shrug of his shoulders along with it.

“I’ve got a home studio,” he explains, exhaling with amusement before adding, “Not gotten around to soundproofing it yet. Obviously.”

So he works in the music business, huh? You figure he must be pretty good, considering how you’ve always presumed it’s been mainstream chart stuff that you’ve been hearing through the walls in the past.

“That’s really cool,” you grin, pleased to see him smile back, and you’re just about to open your mouth to keep the small talk going when all of a sudden Remi tugs sharply on her lead, jolting you off balance. Flustered, you glare at her accusingly only to see her staring right back, impatient for the walk she’s been promised.

Little madam would be tapping her paw on the floor and checking her watch if she only knew how…

Giggling to mask your embarrassment, you make your excuses and bid Yoongi farewell, and you’re about halfway down the concrete steps to take you to the ground floor when suddenly his voice calls after you,

“How did it go?” Looking up, you see his face peering down at you over the railings. The apples of his cheeks look even more pinchable from below; so smooth and sweet and round. "The interview, I mean," he explains further when all you do is gawp back up at him, mouth hanging ajar.

"Oh!" Could this really be real? Is Yoongi - introverted, mysterious Min Yoongi - taking an active interest in you? Well, not you necessarily, but something to do with you, nonetheless. "Yeah, I mean, I think it went pretty well." He nods, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

"Well, good luck with it," he says, and all of a sudden Holly's face pops over the side too, tongue lolling out. At your feet, Remi grumbles disgruntedly.

"Thanks," you reply, face aching with the effort it's taking for you to try not to grin too hard. "Keeping all my fingers crossed." Yoongi gives you one last final nod and then disappears out of sight, keys jingling as he opens his front door, and you’re left giddy in his wake.

Realistically, you know this whole exchange was little more than every day ordinary - some might even say mundane - but it's caught you so off guard that you very nearly fall down the stairs when Remi barks you back to reality, tugging once more on her lead.

"Oh alright, alright, alright…"

****

Turns out, your gut feeling that the interview went well was right.

Not that you’d actually found that out until much later on in the day, mind. Thanks to all the faffing around you’d been doing with your phone prior to leaving the house, you’d managed to leave it by the front door rather than take it with you, and by the time you’d gotten home, there were three missed calls and a rather perturbed sounding voicemail waiting for you. Still, better late than never, eh? You were just glad your new employer hadn’t mistaken your sudden unavailability as a lack of enthusiasm; full of spluttered apologies and excuses by the time you eventually called them back.

That was two weeks ago, now, and you’ve been pleasantly surprised as to how well things have been going so far. Being a high-end store, the clientele are somewhat more demanding than you’ve been used to before, but the money’s good and your new colleagues have been more welcoming than you could’ve hoped. Everything’s been coming up roses, and whilst you’re revelling in your newfound financial security, Remi is… well, Remi’s not been taking to it quite so well.

It was only a month or two that you were unemployed prior to starting this job, but it seems as though that was time enough for Remi to become all too accustomed to you spending all your time at home. You’ve no idea how she is when you’re out during your shifts, but the way she sits whining at the front door whilst you get ready for work is enough to break your heart alone, and she’s so excited to see you every time you get back that it doesn’t take a genius to assume she’s been mourning your absence every moment that you’re gone.

It makes you feel horrifically guilty, but what else can you do? You need to work and dog sitters are a luxury you can't afford - at least not right now, anyway. And so of course, like every individual who’s ever suffered with ‘mom guilt’, you end up over-compensating to make up for it; new toys, tastier treats, extra-long walks. Basically, anything Remi might ever want.

And it’s on one of these longer walks that you finally end up bumping into Yoongi and his canine companion again, meandering through the park nearest your home. He doesn’t spot you, at first, which gives you ample opportunity to observe the fondness with which he watches Holly chasing the autumn leaves dancing along the path with each gust of wind. You even get to hear him laugh for the very first time when Holly abandons the leaves and opts to chase his tail instead, and the whole scene is so endearing that you can’t help but stop and scrunch your nose at the two of them, grinning to yourself from where you linger further down the path.

Does he have any idea how cute he is, you wonder? You can’t imagine Yoongi would be the type of guy who’d appreciate hearing it, should you ever work up the courage to tell him so.

“Hey!” you call out once you’ve mustered up the courage to finally reveal yourself, approaching them with Remi’s lead held firmly in hand. On hearing your voice, Yoongi looks up from where he’d squatted down to give Holly a fuss, his small eyes widening infinitesimally once he realises it’s you.

“Oh, hey,” he greets, quickly straightening up and brushing off the leaves that’d gotten caught on the front of his long, black coat.

“How’s it going?” You keep a close eye on Remi as you approach, and whilst she still tugs on the lead in an attempt to rush forward, you’re glad to find that this time around the two of them are somewhat calmer as to how they go about greeting each other. There’s plenty of sniffing, still, and plenty of bouncing around, but apparently Holly is a quick learner and knows better than to come on so strong this time around.

“Yeah, not bad.” You can tell Yoongi’s a responsible owner by the way he closely watches Holly as the two dogs say hello, but as he glances up you can’t help but notice that there are dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes despite his profession of good health.

Has he been staying up late again, absorbed in his music? If he has, he must’ve had the forethought to use some headphones, as you haven’t been awoken during the night at all ever since that fateful evening a couple of weeks ago.

“Hey, uh, how’d it turn out with that job, in the end?” Yoongi asks, and it’s stupid but you swear you feel your insides flutter with excitement at a) the fact that he remembered and b) would care enough to ask about it further on down the line.

“Really good!” you reply as Remi sinks down into a playful stance amongst the leaves, bottom eagerly wiggling. “I got it, yeah! Started last week.” Yoongi smiles mildly, though it’s nowhere near the toothy grin you’d seen him bestow on Holly earlier. What would you have to do to earn one of those, you wonder?

“I figured you had.” Your brows furrow in curiosity as he slips one hand into his pocket, shifting his weight.

“Oh? How’d you work that out?” He glances at Remi for a second, pausing before he answers.

“Your dog, Remi?” You nod, growing more curious with every second. “Well, she’s gotten kind of… noisy since you went back to work.”

Oh. Oh shit.

Your embarrassment must show all over your face because Yoongi’s quick to continue explaining, his own expression turning into one of worry.

“I mean, it’s no trouble. It’s not like I’m trying to sleep or anything and my headphones cancel her barking out anyway,” he rambles as the two dogs continue to spring back and forth between the two of you without a care in the world. “It’s just… I feel kind of sorry for her, is all.”

And oh boy, if you didn’t feel guilty already about leaving her than you sure do now. What must Yoongi think of you? Does he think you’re being neglectful of her? That you’re some horrible, conscienceless owner? Oh god, what if he reports you for animal cruelty or something?

“I didn’t… um…” Realising you’re on the verge of bursting into tears, you purse your lips and look down at Remi for a second or two, trying to remind yourself that no matter what anyone may think, you’re doing the best you can. She’s in good health and she’s happy… most of the time. “I didn’t realise she was getting so upset while I was gone,” you say, blinking back the tears and forcing a smile as you shrug your shoulders like it’s not so much of a big deal. “Maybe I’ll have to look into a sitter, or… or…”

“I didn’t mention it to try and make you feel bad,” Yoongi gently interrupts, and you can tell that he’s being genuine from the tone in which he says it. Somehow, he doesn’t strike you as the sort to bullshit someone just to spare their feelings. “I’ve just been thinking; maybe I can take her out with me for a walk in the afternoon? I’ll be walking Holly anyway, so…”

“Are you serious?!” you exclaim, your sheer volume and enthusiasm so unexpected that Yoongi actually takes an involuntary step back, his eyes widening in alarm. Even the dogs momentarily stop their play, heads cocked to the side as they stare up at you, bemused. “That’d be amazing, thank you!” Yoongi smiles, rubbing bashfully at his neck, and if it weren’t for the fact you’re unsure of how he’d respond, you’d have thrown your arms around him already while you girlishly squeal your thanks.

“Really, it’s no big deal,” he dismisses, but it’s too late. As far as you’re concerned you’re already indebted to him for being kind enough to merely suggest it.

“It is to me,” you smile and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear that Yoongi’s cheeks turn a softer shade pinker as he glances down at the floor, clearing his throat.

“You can just drop a key over whenever. Whatever’s easier for you.” He shrugs his shoulders, all nonchalance in spite of your beaming smile. Below you, Holly’s happily letting Remi clean the inside of his ears, oblivious.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” He looks up, and this time you know you’re not imagining the awkward blush dusted along his cheekbones. “I owe you one.”

It isn’t until later on, long after you’ve gotten home and whilst you’re trying (ie. failing) to get to sleep, that it suddenly dawns on you that there may be one potential downside to Yoongi’s generous offer.

Now that you’ve given Yoongi your spare key, he can just come moseying on into your apartment any time he likes. Any sane person would surely be concerned about the potential security risk that poses, surely, but you? Oh no, your anxieties are centred around the fact that this means that Yoongi will get to see what an absolute shit-tip your apartment is and suss you out as the grotty little goblin you are, and thereby conclude that he should never, ever, ever speak to you again, for as long as you both shall live.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as you realise this you’re even less able to sleep than you were before and proceed to spend the next four hours tidying up all the areas in the apartment you figure Yoongi is most likely to see. You make a pretty good job of it, too, though you start to question whether it was worth it when you have to spend the next following day at work feeling as though you’ve got some sort of fatigue-induced hangover - dry mouth and all.

It was, though, no doubt. Once you finally arrive home all blurry eyes and aching feet, Remi seems a lot less manic than she has these past couple weeks when she’s been left alone. She’s still pleased to see you, of course, but it’s a happy tail wag rather than a desperate nipping at your fingers or jumping up your legs like before. You notice that Yoongi has re-filled her water bowl, too, and the calmness he’s imbued in her seems to last throughout the whole evening. She's so calm, in fact, that you can’t help but wonder if he might’ve slipped something into said water bowl.

If he did, you’d sure like to know what it was…

And so it continues throughout the weeks that follow. You and Yoongi never actually cross paths - much to your dismay - but Remi continues to relish her daily adventures out and about the town without you. And it’s not just Remi that benefits from your newfound arrangement, either; with the time that you’d normally use to walk her yourself now no longer needed, you’re free to indulge in the self-care rituals that’d fallen by the wayside once the past few weeks. Bubble-baths, face masks, deep cleanses - your skin has never looked better!

“This is the life, huh Rem?” you sigh in contentment, glancing over to where she’s currently lounging atop the closed toilet seat opposite your bathtub, keeping you company whilst you luxuriate. She says nothing, obviously, but looks happy enough with her chin rested on the sink and eyes half-closed. She yawns, showing off all her teeth, and it catches - your mouth opening in a great big yawn as you reach out of the tub for the glass of wine precariously perched on the side.

So what if it’s only three in the afternoon? This is what weekends off work are for, and if Remi’s not judging you then you’re not about to go giving yourself a hard time either.

“What do you say to a little nap after this, hm?” Glass now empty, your fingers are starting to look a little bit pruney as you place it back on the side, and you take that as a sign to say you’ve been wallowing in your own filth long enough. It’s time to make a move.

With a great big groan of effort, you hoist yourself up out of the water and stand up, grinning to yourself at the little headrush that comes with it - purely from the change in blood pressure, obviously. Nothing to do with your midday alcohol consumption at all. Unfortunately, your amusement is short-lived once you realise that in your eagerness to soak you’d completely forgotten to bring your towel along.

“Ah shit,” you huff, climbing out onto the bathmat and then wiggling yourself in an attempt to drip dry as best you can before you venture out to where you know you’ve left it hanging on the radiator out in the hall. Remi watches your shuffle curiously but it’s not as though she hasn’t already seen it all before, and you flash her a grin before covering up what you can with one hand and opening up the door, shivering a little as the cold air hits you.

Suddenly, Remi darts out from the bathroom from between your legs, barking like mad, and maybe it’s because the alcohol has slowed your reflexes - or maybe you’re just a little slow in general - but it isn’t until you hear the front door shut and Yoongi calling Remi’s name that the slow realisation of what’s happening hits you.

Remi's walk. Yoongi's come to take Remi on her walk because as far as he knows you’re working, and why on earth would you have been smart enough to have had the forethought to let him know that you’re not?!

“Hi Rem,” you hear Yoongi say once she’s finished yapping, her aggression replaced by excited whining as she no doubt dances around his feet. Like an idiot, you’re so blindsided by his sudden arrival that all you can do is stand frozen in the hallway - the hallway that Yoongi would be able to see directly down should he only think to move a few paces to the left. “You ready for walkies, girl?”

Oh god, why now?! Why you?!

Remi lets out a bark of excitement and then, to your horror, you realise she’s turned tail and decided to come and fetch you to join in with all the fun, the bell on her collar jangling as she runs towards you, ushering in your doom.

“Where are you off to? You don’t want to go out today? That’s a shame because Holly-” The sound of Yoongi’s voice coming closer is finally enough to kick you into gear, and it’s with a yelp of alarm that you reach out and snatch the towel off the radiator and clutch it to your chest just in time for Yoongi to round the corner and come into sight.

His eyes widen comically when he sees you, his mouth popping open as he freezes in the doorway and you scramble to cover yourself. You’re not sure how much he actually saw but you think he must’ve seen something , judging by his reaction. Between you, Remi runs back and forth, joyfully oblivious. Your whole body feels aflame with embarrassment, and given the rising blush you can see on Yoongi’s cheeks you’d guess he’s not faring much better.

“Um… I-” you stutter out, holding the towel in place against your chest in case Remi decides to jump up your legs and yank it down. “I-I’m not working this weekend and-”

Shamefully, Yoongi doesn’t even give you a chance to finish explaining. With nothing more than a rapid series of blinks and a stiff nod, he turns around on the spot and walks out of your apartment faster than you’ve ever seen him move before, and though you and Remi rush aimlessly after him, he’s too quick to catch. He doesn’t even shut the door after himself properly, so eager is he to escape.

“Poor guy must've gone to pour bleach in his eyes," you sigh whilst Remi stares forlornly at the door as you press it shut, her tail hanging sadly between her legs. You can only hope you haven’t scarred him for life and ruined your arrangement, and you tell yourself that it’s for Remi’s sake but really, you’re not sure your ego could handle it if it turned out Yoongi had taken one look at you naked and decided never to speak to you again.

You run your fingers through the wet mass of tangles that is your hair, sighing once more as you head towards the kitchen, uncaring that you’re likely dripping bathwater all over the floor.

“I think it’s time for another drink, Rem, don’t you?”

Remi doesn’t get walked that afternoon, much to her displeasure, and the reasons for that are twofold. One - after having chugged down another two large glasses of wine in hopes of erasing your short-term memory, you were hardly in any fit state to pry yourself up off the sofa let alone walk around the block. And two - even if you could walk, you would’ve still had to muster up the courage to step outside your front door. Bumping into Yoongi and having him run away from you twice in one day was far too distressing a prospect for you to even consider attempting to move.

Instead, you’d spent the rest of the afternoon lying about on the sofa, wallowing in your own self-pity until you’d fallen asleep in nothing but your towel, drooling all over the cushions. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time, but the you of this morning is full of remorse having woken up with the back of her hair sticking out like a bird’s backside, a headache, and a craving for fried food that just won’t subside.

It doesn’t help that Remi’s bouncing off the walls, either, and eventually you come to the conclusion that there’s really no way you can avoid taking her out for any longer. You’re just going to have to pull on your big girl pants and if you see him, well… then you’ll just have to cross that bridge when it comes to it. You’re both adults. This shouldn’t be this big of a deal.

But oh god it totally is because he’s so cute and what if he thinks you looked gross and oh god, oh god, oh god!

But it’s fine. Of course it’s fine, because you tell yourself it’ll be fine, and you didn’t bump into him for months at a time after you’d first moved in so why should it happen again now?

Thankfully, fate appears to be on your side (or taking pity on you, at least). You make it out of your building without seeing neither hide nor hair of your unwitting flashee - if that’s even a word - and despite having forgotten your purse, you still manage to find some change in the depths of your pockets for a snack from the food cart just outside the park.

You munch it happily as Remi leads the way, darting from one side of the sunshine dappled pavement to the other to pee on everything she can find, and you’re just thinking about what a good call it was to get out of the house for a little while when you suddenly hear a familiar voice calling an all-too-familiar name and your stomach drops with dread.

Oh, fate can go fuck herself. Fickle bitch.

You come to an abrupt stop, eyes drawn to where your next-door neighbour is currently frolicking through the small field a little further down the path, just to your right.

Frolicking is probably the wrong word, really, but you’re not sure what to call the gangly waving of arms and legs you can see going on past the small group of trees that’s concealing you from sight. Holly’s off lead, you can tell that much, and Yoongi seems like he's having fun chasing after him, letting out some strange, high-pitched laugh when he almost trips over that has you guffawing in turn - a sound you quickly smother with the napkin you hadn’t yet thought to throw away.

Yoongi drops to his knees amongst the grass and Holly is quick to take advantage, climbing up onto his owner’s lap to lick Yoongi’s face. He groans and he grimaces, but you can still see him smiling as he wipes away the offending slobber, and you’re just about to start swooning at the way he’s lovingly fussing Holly’s ears when Remi startles you out of your reverie with a purposeful tug on her lead.

Just like you, she’s spotted the object of your affections and is now desperate to make her way over, whining and pacing restlessly to and fro.

“Rem, shh!” you hush when she lets out a bark of objection at your attempt to pull her back from the treeline. As much as you enjoy seeing Yoongi you don’t actually want to see him right now, and if Remi keeps going the way she is you won’t end up with much of a choice in the matter.

“Again, Hol?! Really?!” Glancing over, you see Yoongi’s expression turn to one of distaste as Holly dips into a squat right in front of him, not a shred of thought spared for dignity. You figure this is the best time to hurry on past while he’s suitably distracted but Remi doesn’t make it easy, pulling backwards as you try to walk on and then planting her bottom firmly on the ground once she realises brute strength is getting her very far.

“I can just pick you up, you know,” you threaten, narrowing your eyes at her, but just as you’re stalking forward about to carry out the said threat, you’re distracted by the sight of Yoongi rummaging through his pockets, lips moving as though he’s grumbling to himself.

You’ve seen that dance before; it’s one you know well, given how forgetful you can be. He’s either forgotten his poo bags or run out of them altogether, and now you’re faced with the moral dilemma of knowing you have a brand new roll stashed away in your pocket. As if sensing your hesitation, Remi stares at you as you squat down to her level, hands outstretched.

‘Really?’ her eyes say, ��Are you really going to just let him leave it there? What if someone steps in it? Think of the children -'

“Oh fine!” you huff, standing up straight and marching out onto the grass before you lose your nerve, Remi trotting along happily at your side.

Must you really be so god damn conscientious all the time? You swear it causes you nothing but trouble.

Before Yoongi’s even realised you’re there, you’re grabbing the roll from your pocket and thrusting it into his line of sight.

“Here,” you offer as he startles, glancing from you down to Remi in momentary bewilderment. You hadn’t meant to sound so gruff but unless you’d forced the word out you probably wouldn’t have been able to say anything at all, so you plaster a nervous smile onto your face in time for when he looks at you again, willing your posture to relax.

“Uh, thanks,” he says he takes them from your palm and pulls one off, quickly putting it to good use. Rather than stand there staring you turn your attention to Remi, mortified to see she’s taken a break from dancing back and forth with Holly in favour of sitting and licking her genitals in the most unladylike fashion.

“Why don’t you go have a run with Holly and just… not do that,” you mumble as you bend to unclip the lead from her harness, granting her freedom. She takes you up on your offer immediately, and the moment she’s loose the two of them go bounding off across the field as fast as they can go, Holly’s ears flapping in the wind. You let out a laugh as Remi manages to dodge and weave around the slightly smaller dog, never quite letting him catch her but keeping close enough to maintain his interest.

If only you were so skilled at the whole ‘treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen’ thing…

“She’s really fast,” Yoongi comments, and as soon as he speaks it’s as though all the awkwardness comes flooding back for the both of you. He can’t even seem to look you in the eye. “For a little dog.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle back in the direction of your shoes, “She’s always acted like she’s twice her size. Too big for her boots.”

The two of you lapse into silence, Yoongi’s hands shuffling in his pockets whilst yours mess with your sleeves. If only you could be so carefree as your canine companions who’ve now ceased their running and are circling around one another instead, sniffing each other out. They’re having a great time, whereas the silence between you is quickly beginning to feel stifling, and you soon come to the conclusion that awkward or not, leaving things unaddressed like this is doing no good. You’re just going to have to say something, even if it’s just to apologise and-

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi suddenly blurts out just as you were opening your mouth to do the same. Your eyes meet and then quickly dart away again, cheeks flushed with heat. “I didn’t mean to walk in- I mean, I didn’t realise you were home.”

“That’s ok,” you rush to excuse, “It was my fault, I should’ve let you know I wasn’t working.” You brave a look at him, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry if I… gave you a shock.” Yoongi shakes his head, a small smile on his face as he waves his hand dismissively.

“I’ve seen worse, believe me,” he chortles, and then as if suddenly realising what it is he’s just said his eyes ping open wide and his face fills with colour. “Sorry, that sounded bad, I-” He stops talking when he notices you’ve startled giggling at his expense, your shoulders shaking with mirth. What he said wasn’t even that funny - hell, some might even be insulted - but he just looks so adorable when he gets all flustered that you just can’t help yourself. It’s either laugh or start cooing and pinching his cheeks, and you doubt he’d appreciate the latter. Soon enough, he’s chuckling along too - albeit rubbing at the flush on his neck as he does so.

“Is it just me or have you noticed how all of our conversations seem to end up with one us apologising?” you observe once you’ve managed to stifle your giggling, happy with how much lighter the mood feels now that you’ve aired everything out.

“I hadn’t until you just pointed it out,” Yoongi admits, absently swinging the hand in which he’s holding Holly’s lead as he looks out across the field towards the two of them. His profile is so pretty; such a sharp jaw for such rounded cheeks to sit on. “I must make an effort to be more interesting.”

“You’re already plenty interesting.” The words are out of your mouth before they’ve even taken form in your head, and you instantly wish you could catch them and stuff them back in as Yoongi’s eyebrows rise, his head turning to look back your way. “I mean… what I meant was-” you stammer as the smallest of smiles tugs at his delicate lips, and though you love to see it you can’t bear to look him right now, too busy wishing the ground would just swallow you up and-

“Shit!” You sharply look up, just in time to see Yoongi take off running at full speed, and your heart starts pounding for a completely different reason as you look ahead to where he’s headed and realise what it is that has him moving so fast.

Where the two dogs had been so happily sniffing around one another just a moment ago, Remi now seems to be in some sort of distress. You immediately assume they’re fighting given how loud she’s whining, but as you take in the sight of Holly mounting her rear end you very quickly come to realise it’s the very opposite of fighting that’s the problem and start running after Yoongi, shouting in a futile attempt to discourage the two.

You hadn’t even realised Remi was in heat, for Christ’s sake! No wonder she was so keen on saying hello to Holly, today of all days!

As luck would have it, Yoongi reaches them two just in time to intervene. His owner’s arm-waving and shouting startles Holly so much that he dismounts without Yoongi even having to touch him, and whilst their owners are left out of breath and harrowed to the core, the two dogs go on about their business like nothing’s happened at all.

“I’m sorry,” you gush, hands shaking you’re so flustered, “I didn’t realise she was in season.”

There you go apologising again…

You quickly go about putting Remi back on the lead as Yoongi does the same, and she’s all innocent eyes as she gazes up at you wondering what all the fuss is about.

“It should be ok, I think.” With Holly firmly back in hand, Yoongi takes a moment to straighten out his beanie that’d come all askew. “They didn’t… uh…”

“Yeah, no, I know what you mean,” you interject rather than have him saying it out loud. They didn’t get stuck together is what he was probably trying to say, and really you’d rather not have a conversation about knotting right now. You’ve had more than enough embarrassment for one day, thank you very much.

“I think I should get this one home before we have any more near-accidents,” Yoongi muses, frowning as he looks down at Holly who’s still clearly expressing an interest, nose twitching in Remi’s direction.

“Sure,” you agree, “And maybe we should hold off on the joint walks for a week or so?” You hate to suggest it because you know Remi’s going to be absolutely miserable without them, and you’re sure Yoongi would keep a close eye on them from now on, but it’s just not worth the risk. “Just until her heat is over, anyway.”

“Yeah, probably best.” You expect that to be it, then, but much to your surprise Yoongi suddenly breaches the gap between you and bends in front of Remi, scratching her under the chin just as you know she likes. “See you soon girl, ok?” he promises, and you swear you feel your knees weaken slightly at the way he says it in that low, dulcet tone of his. And if they didn’t then, then they most definitely do when he looks up at you and smiles, the sunlight catching his eyes.

“Yeah, see you later.” Starstruck, you answer somewhat robotically as he stands back to normal height with that same small smile still playing on his lips.

“Later,” he says, making himself scarce before anything else has a chance to go wrong.

You take a moment just to close your eyes; to collect yourself and calm your heart. Remi's innocent little face is awaiting you once they open again, gazing up at you as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and you can't help but soften as you bend down and run your fingers through her fur, sighing.

"I know he's cute, Rem," you say, and part of you wonders whether it's Holly or Yoongi that you're talking about; Remi or yourself that you're talking to. "But you can't just go giving up the goods like that!" She ever so sweetly licks your fingers - as if in penance - and you can’t help but wonder to yourself whether either of you is even really listening.

At least she has the excuse of not being able to understand a word; you’re not sure what excuse your subconscious has for the numerous dreams it inflicts on you in the nights that follow. Dreams of dark eyes, deep voices and long, wandering fingers that seem to linger on your skin even into wakefulness. It doesn’t seem fair that whilst your sightings of the ‘real life’ Yoongi remain as sporadic and elusive as ever, you’re being haunted by his ever-so-alluring dream counterpart.

It’s a stupid crush, really. You know it is. Your attraction to him is based on little more than his looks and the few short (and embarrassing) interactions you’ve had with the guy, and no-one is worth the realisation that you’re starting to resent your dog for all the time she gets to spend prancing around the park with him that you don’t. That's a new low, even for you.

You’re just going to have to get over it, and as a couple of weeks go by with no further interaction between the two of you aside from the odd little post-it note left on your kitchen countertop once Remi's daily walks recommence, it gets a little easier to distract yourself from dwelling on the butterflies your next-door neighbour had been making you feel.

Besides, if Yoongi was interested in pursuing something more than being your acquaintance surely he would’ve done it by now? There’s no need for you to go messing up an arrangement that’s already working so well by getting feelings involved, especially if they’re not mutual. Remi would kill you. Or worse, Yoongi might start to think of charging you for his services rather than walking her out of the goodness of his heart. Your new job may be going well, but that’s still not an option you’re in the position to afford.

You feel as though you should do something for him, though. You get the feeling Yoongi probably isn’t the type to appreciate a thank you card, and you’re not a good enough baker to go whipping up a batch of cookies or something else of the like. Maybe you could splash out on a new piece of recording equipment the next time you get paid? Hmm, but then that would require actually asking him what he wants, and no doubt it’ll be pricey if he’s using professional kit… Maybe you should just-

“Oh, no, no, Remi, not there! No!” Panicked, you quickly pick Remi up off the sofa and rush her into the kitchen. She continues retching even whilst in your arms and doesn’t stop until she’s finally thrown up this morning’s breakfast all over your laminate floor, uncaring of your whines of protest or the wrinkling of your nose.

“See this is why-” You groan with effort as you have to pick her up and move her out of the way to keep her from licking it all back up again. You swear to god she’s getting heavier. “-This is why you shouldn’t wolf everything down so fast!”

Not that she’s ever had any issues with eating so quickly in the past. Remi’s always gobbled down her food but it’s only the last day or two that she’s started bringing it back up again, and maybe it’d worry you if she seemed unwell in any other way, but she’s acting perfectly fine. A little needier, perhaps, but you figure that’s just down to her missing her new playmate; she certainly isn’t shy about whining and pining after him whenever she can hear Holly next door.

You’d even knocked on Yoongi’s door to check with him whether he thought Remi had seemed out of sorts at all, but he’d said he hadn’t noticed anything obvious either. She’s not eating anything that she shouldn’t be and you haven’t changed her brand of food. Sure, she might be eating a little bit extra of it lately but it can’t just be that, surely?

Every sane person knows you shouldn’t google symptoms, but after you’ve cleaned up Remi’s mess and settled back down on the sofa, that's exactly what you find yourself doing. With her curled up at your side, you scare yourself to death reading through all the horrible things that may or may not be the cause. Parasites, liver failure, gastrointestinal blockages - none of them quite make sense because she’s perfectly fine - but as you continue to scroll there one possible explanation that catches your eye.

Pregnancy.

And suddenly it all clicks into place; Remi’s increased appetite, her cuddliness, the vomiting. She’s pregnant!

You twist in your seat, staring down at her peacefully sleeping form with wide eyes and a furiously beating heart, unable to comprehend that this might be true. Your gaze strays to her stomach as though it might suddenly appear swollen now that the secret is out, but with all her long fur as covering she looks as normal as ever, leg twitching as she dreams.

How can she be pregnant?! You warned her about this - about giving away the goods too fast - and now look what’s happened! Holly didn’t… they didn’t even…!

Remi lets out a yelp of surprise as you suddenly scoop her up off the sofa and rush to your front door, in such a hurry that you don’t even bother to shut it after you as you storm down the hall. Calling Yoongi’s name, you bang your clenched fist against his door with little care for how hysterical you might sound.

Hell, you are hysterical! What the bloody hell are you supposed to do with a litter of puppies?! Your apartment is barely big enough for you and Remi, nevermind however many offspring she may be carrying!

Yoongi’s bleary-eyed once he finally comes to the door, sleepiness adding to the bewilderment with which he squints at the sight of you red-faced and near hyperventilating. It’s shameful that even as worked up as you are that your gaze still strays, unable to resist the lure of checking Yoongi out in his baggy tee and basketball shorts. How is it that even his knobbly knees are so cute?!

“Hey,” he greets, trying and failing to stifle a yawn that gives you an ever so lovely view of his tonsils. He must’ve been up late working, and for just a moment you almost feel guilty for waking him up until Holly suddenly comes running to the front door as well. Catching sight of Remi in your arms, he immediately starts to jump up your legs to try and reach her despite the death glare he’s greeted with. “What’s up?”

“She’s pregnant,” you blurt out, thrusting Remi forward before placing her down on the floor so she and Holly can greet one another. You can’t see the harm, after all. It’s not as if he can go knocking her up again . Yoongi’s brow furrows, head tilting as he sluggishly blinks, struggling to process this new information.

“Sorry?”

“Remi, she’s pregnant,” you state again, folding your arms across your chest as the words suddenly sink in and Yoongi's gaze plummets to the dogs at his feet. “Holly knocked her up.” For a moment, Yoongi says nothing. All he does is stand there, rubbing the back of his neck as Remi affectionately nips and nuzzles at Holly, tugging on his ears.

Finally, he looks up, eyebrows furrowed even deeper now.

“How do you know it was Holly?” Is he serious ?! “I mean, you never know. When they’re in heat they-”

“Are you calling my dog a slut?!” you shriek, stepping forward so both Yoongi and the dogs are forced to move to accommodate your wrath. He flinches, stepping back as the dogs scamper off somewhere further into the apartment. “You were there! We both saw them-” Your arms flap as you search for the word, so outraged your face feels as though it’s on fire from all the red-hot blood rushing through your veins. “- Canoodling !”

If Yoongi weren’t so cute, you swear to god you’d kick him in the shins for the way the corners of his lips twitch at your choice of words.

“Ok, alright,” he relents, cleverly deducing that trying to reason with you right now would be a fool’s game. He glances over at the dogs, now cuddled up together in one of his armchairs. “Just… how about we hold off on the meltdown until after we’re sure?” Your eyes narrow despite knowing he’s right, unwilling to admit that just yet.

There’s always the possibility you could be wrong. The website you were looking at had so many different potential causes for her symptoms that it wouldn’t be impossible for it to be something else. It might even turn out to be nothing at all.

“I guess,” you admit after a moment has passed, unfolding your arms and letting them fall to your sides as you will your shoulders to relax.

“The vet can do a scan, right?” Yoongi suggests, “Then we can figure out what to do if…” He glances at them again, drawing your eyes their way. You have to admit they do make a very sweet looking couple, all curled up together like that. “... if she is.”

You bite your lip at the thought of the potential cost - you’ve got no idea how much it might cost or even when the right time to book it would be. As if reading your mind, Yoongi speaks up again, rubbing at his neck once again.

“I don’t mind splitting the cost if you want,” he offers, though he sounds a little awkward. “You’re probably right about it being Holly…” ‘Probably’ is a bit of an understatement, you think, but you’re not about to argue the semantics. If you’re honest, you’re just feeling a bit overwhelmed by all of this; by the situation in itself and how level-headed and kind Yoongi has been to step up on Holly’s behalf so quickly.

“They are a bit smitten with each other, aren’t they?” you smile, feeling a little calmer. This could be a lot worse, you suppose. The father could’ve just been some random dog in the park and you’d have been left facing this all alone.

“Just a little,” he agrees, hands rested on his hips, and you swear the smile that blossoms on his face as he looks over at them is the sweetest one you’ve ever seen - your heart fluttering despite the promise you made yourself to get over this little crush.

They’re not the only ones at risk of getting smitten, you think.

“Anyway.” You clear your throat in a futile attempt to get a hold of yourself. “Sorry for just barging round. We’ll get going and let you get some more sleep.” You call Remi’s name and she sleepily raises her head, refusing to move until you call her twice more, clapping your hands.

“No worries. It’s about time I got up,” he says. “And what happened to us not saying sorry all the time, hm?” Yoongi smiles crookedly, folding his arms, and god, it’s only the slightest bit of friendly teasing, so why is your heart racing so fast?

“Whoops,” you giggle, acutely aware of the blush that’s warming your cheeks as you scoop Remi up in your arms. “I’ll try to do better.”

“Then I'll expect your best,” Yoongi grins as he escorts you back to the door, and you swear to god you’re about to spontaneously combust any second.

“I’ll let you know about the scan, ok?” He nods, returning your little wave as you say goodbye and then shutting the door before Holly has the chance to escape out into the hall after you. You pause on the doorstep, willing your heart to calm down.

“Oh you’re one to talk,” you hiss back at Remi when you notice her stare, wide-eyed and unblinking. The two of you wouldn’t be in this mess if she could’ve just kept it in her pants. “You better hope I’m wrong about this, missus.”

You’re not, though. The ultrasound scan that you attend the following week confirms your suspicions; Remi’s pregnant, about four weeks gone, and though the vet couldn’t be sure, she’d estimated her to be carrying at least three puppies. She sends you away with her congratulations and an armful of literature - essentially the doggy equivalent of ‘what to expect when you’re expecting’ - and you spend the next hour after you leave the vets wandering the pet store aisles in some kind of daze, desperately trying to figure out which food you should buy.

“Do you have any idea-” Yoongi looks surprised to see you when he opens the front door - Remi’s lead in one hand and a deluxe bag of dog food tucked under the other. “-How many different varieties of grain-free puppy food there are, Yoongi?” He blinks, unsure, so you answer for him. “Twelve.” You can feel the bag starting to slip but you’re lacking the motivation to stop it, too overwhelmed from the morning you’ve had to want to fight anymore. “Twelve. And not one single store assistant could tell me what the hell difference there is between any of them.” The bag finally falls but luckily Yoongi’s right there to catch it, a furrow of concern creasing his brow. “And it’s not even for the puppies.”

“You… look like you could use a coffee,” Yoongi observes, stepping back from his doorway as he holds the bag against his chest.

“Yes, thank you,” you sigh, stepping inside and bending down to let Remi off her lead as Yoongi puts the bag down by the front door and closes it.

“So she’s definitely pregnant, then?” he asks as he reaches down to fuss Remi when she over bounds his way, tail wagging. Holly follows quickly after but it’s not Yoongi he’s interested in - he’s too busy sniffing and licking at the bag of food.

“Yep. Triplets, apparently. Or more, if we’re really lucky.” Yoongi chuckles softly at the sarcasm in your tone, a faint smile on his face as he rounds the kitchen island and pulls out a stool on which you promptly sit, resting your elbows on the counter.

You hadn’t really taken the time to appreciate the decor the last time you got a glimpse inside Yoongi’s apartment, but now that you’ve got a minute you can’t help but notice how nicely put together the place is. Yes, there’s some dirty dishware in the kitchen sink, and yes, his apartment is pretty much the same as yours in layout - just the other way around - but the warm, earthy tones of the place make it feel… cosier somehow. More homely than the stark white walls and metallic countertops your ex-boyfriend had insisted you install back at your place.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee grabs your attention, and you watch quietly as he pours you each a cup from a fancy looking cafetiere. He’s surprisingly delicate in the way he moves - his long fingers deft and precise.

“Milk? Sugar?”

“Yes. And two please,” you mumble, still wallowing in your perceived misfortune. At least you’ve got a nice view; Yoongi’s looking especially cute today in ripped jeans and a sweater that looks far too large, sleeves dangling as he reaches into the fridge.

He takes his coffee with just the slightest touch of milk. No sugar.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he says eventually, breaking what would have been silence if it weren’t for the sounds of Remi and Holly play-fighting in the living room. You swallow the sip of coffee you’d just taken - infinitely more flavorful than the cheap instant stuff you use at home.

“I know,” you relent with a sigh. You just hate feeling so out of your depth! Usually, you research to death any kind of life choice you’re about to make - weighing out the pros and cons, thinking of any possible eventuality and most likely talking yourself out of it in the meantime - but you know nothing about dog breeding or raising puppies. You’d never forgive yourself if you inadvertently did something wrong and Remi ended up getting sick or one of the puppies got hurt or-

“My brother’s dog had puppies a couple years back, I can give him a call,” Yoongi says, as calm and level-headed as ever, “We go halves on everything and then split the profits afterwards.”

“You think we should sell them?”

“Well I hadn’t really planned on getting another dog anytime soon.” His lips curve into a smile against the edge of his cup and you can’t help but smile in return, sighing again.

“You think people will want them?” you ask after taking another sip and Yoongi puts down his cup to reach into his pocket, pulling out his phone.

“I did a little research,” he says, rounding the counter to come and stand next to you, thumb tapping away at the screen. Standing this close you’re able to smell his cologne; a soft yet masculine scent. Does he realise how close he is, you wonder? Or rather, does he have any idea how he’s got every single one of your nerve endings on high alert? “Look,” he instructs, turning his phone your way to show you a picture of one of the most adorable little dogs you've ever seen. It's got Remi's pointed little nose and brilliant white fur, but being half poodle that fur is slightly curly rather than straight, and unlike Remi's pointed ears, this dog's are long and floppy just like Holly's.

In short, it's frickin adorable.

"Oh my god!" you squeal before you can help yourself, stealing the phone from Yoongi's grasp to get an even closer look. You keep scrolling through Google images and you swear each puppy is even cuter than the last, knees bouncing under the counter as your thumb relentlessly swipes.

You totally miss the fondness with which Yoongi observes your excitement. He's usually rather possessive over his tech, but you're just so enthusiastic he can't bring himself to cut your 'ooh-ing' and 'aww-ing' short - especially given how miserable you looked when you first arrived. "They're so adorable, oh my gosh."

"I don't think we'll have any trouble finding buyers if they come out looking like that," he says, slipping his phone back into his pocket once you coyly handed it back, careful to avoid the brushing of your fingers.

"No, you're probably right." If anything, you'll probably have trouble giving them up yourself! Yoongi returns safely to the other side of the counter, smiling softly as he picks up his cup in both hands and takes another sip.

"We'll figure it out," he assures you, and somehow, despite all your anxieties and doubts, there's something about Yoongi's voice that makes you put all your faith in him.

Mind now at rest, the two of you chat whilst you finish your coffees, not just about the dogs but other things as well; his impressive home entertainment system, your plans for Christmas and various theories about the strange Mr Jung who lives alone on the floor below and yet can be heard shouting all hours of the day.

It feels so easy to talk to him. Familiar, almost. Like you and Yoongi knew each other in a past life and have somehow found one another again.

Or maybe you're just a hopeless romantic who's reading way too much into things but hey, you're not hurting anyone. Just yourself, maybe, and you can live with that.

"Thanks for the coffee," you smile as the conversation reaches a natural lull. You're reluctant to leave but you'd rather not risk overstaying your welcome and turn what has been a lovely interaction sour.

"Any time," Yoongi smiles in return. This time you don't manage to avoid the brushing of your fingers as you hand your coffee cup back, and as your fingertips touch you end up pressing your thighs together under the counter from the thrill that runs through you. Thank god he doesn't see it, lest Yoongi realises just how sexually deprived you've been since you and your ex broke up.

Better leave now whilst you still have some semblance of self-control left.

"Ok Rem, time to head on home," you call, slipping off the stool. You pause, expecting to hear the jingling of the bell on her collar as she trots her way over to you, but nothing comes. "Remi?" You make your way into the living room only to find her curled up with Holly in that same spot on the sofa as last time, and if she heard you then she's certainly not acting as though she did. "Rem, c'mon, gotta go." Lazily, they lift their heads in perfect unison and yet Remi remains unmoving, yawning and stretching as Holly rolls onto his back.

Glancing behind you, you ensure Yoongi is well out of earshot before squatting down so that you and Remi are eye to eye.

"Look, I don't want to go either, but we don't want to overstay our welcome now, do we?" you whisper quietly, giving her fair warning before you slip your hands under her fuzzy little body and lift her from the seat.

"Don't be sad." You almost jump out of your skin when you suddenly hear Yoongi right behind you, very nearly dropping Remi in your haste to turn around. Apparently, Yoongi isn't a great believer in personal space (or else is oblivious to it) because he's close enough that he doesn't have to move an inch in order to reach out and stroke her fur, smiling. "We'll see each other soon," he reassures, looking up at you before adding, "Won't we?"

"Yeah, definitely," you confirm, nodding like an idiot, and as though she understands Remi gives a little low rumble of contentment as she leans her head back against your chest, exposing her chin for scratches that Yoongi can't resist supplying.

"I'll come fetch her for her walk tomorrow as normal." Yoongi pauses as he withdraws his affection, scratching behind his ear and keeping his eyes on Remi as he asks, "You are working tomorrow, aren't you?"

Instantly, your cheeks flush with heat as you realise his intention for asking. "Y-yeah." God forbid he almost walk in on you semi-nude all over again… "Thanks."

"No problem," he smiles, meeting your gaze. You shyly return his smile, unable to think of anything more to say as he sees you to the door except to wish him goodbye, blushing once more when he quietly utters it back along with your name.

It should be criminal for someone so good looking to have a voice so sexy. How's a girl supposed to stand a chance? Even when you're no longer in his presence, you can't stop thinking about him; his calm demeanour, his subtle smiles, the warmth he exudes around both Remi and Holly. If he were just attractive that would be one thing, but now you're getting to know him more, little by little… boy, you're in trouble.

And Remi doesn't seem to be faring much better, either. Every small noise from next door that could possibly be her four-legged love has her pacing and whining, so eager to go to see him that every time you come home you have to be careful she doesn't dart out into the hallway between your legs and go scratching at Yoongi's door.

Apparently, Remi's not concerned with the notion of looking desperate, which is why one evening when you come home and you're met with nothing more than silence and an empty apartment, you're more than just a little worried.

Has she climbed her way out onto the balcony? Shimmied across the window ledges mission impossible style in a desperate attempt to reach Holly next door?

Unlikely, but you follow your gut instinct anyway and head over to Yoongi's as calmly as you can. You take a deep, steadying breath as you knock on his door, trying to keep the rising sense of panic at bay. You've already had a not so great day at work - too many customers with not enough manners. The last thing you need now is a missing dog to add to the list.

"Have you seen Remi?" you blurt out as soon as the door starts to open, frowning from the headache throbbing at the back of your skull. "I just got home and she's not there and-"

Yoongi's mouth opens but he has the chance to speak, the sound of Remi's bell does all the talking for him, jingling loudly as she comes running towards the door.

"Hey you!" Your knees click as you bend down to fuss her, one hand on the hem of your skirt to make sure it doesn't ride up too far. "You scared me!" Remorseless, Remi flops onto her side and cocks her leg up in invitation for you to stroke her stomach. It's slowly starting to expand underneath all the fuzz, and despite your recent panic you still can't help but smile to feel it.

"Sorry, should've left a note." Behind you, you hear the front door click shut. Remi quickly has her fill of tummy rubs, and as she runs away back to Holly, you stand up straight and turn to Yoongi, endeared by the uneasy expression on his face and the awkwardness with which he shoves his hands into his pockets. "I keep hearing her whining after I've dropped her off, so I figured it wouldn't hurt for her to just stay a while longer 'till you get home."

God, there he goes again being an absolute sweetheart.

"Shouldn't have just assumed," he apologises but you're quick to wave it off, smiling.

"Not at all. Just glad she's safe." Yoongi smiles, hands coming out of his pockets, and as he walks on past you into the kitchen you're suddenly hit with the smell of cooking; onions and garlic and a sweet-smelling sauce.

"You hungry?" he asks as he approaches the stove.

You can't resist the opportunity to take a really good look at him whilst his back is turned; the epitome of effortless style in his open plaid shirt and skinny jeans. He's barefoot, you realise, and you're not sure why you find that so attractive but you're not about to go analysing it now. Not when he's turned to look at you so expectantly - almost like you've completely missed something he's just said in favour of ogling how nicely the pockets of his jeans frame each of his perfect little butt cheeks.

"Sorry?" you ask stupidly.

"I always make too much," he says, mercifully turning back to his frying pan quick enough that he might have missed the blush on your cheeks. "Plenty to go around. If you want."

Wait. Is Yoongi… Asking you to stay for dinner? And do your eyes deceive you, or is the back of his neck turning a delightful shade of pink as he waits for you to answer?

No. No, that'd just be ridiculous. You're just leaping to conclusions - presumptuous and delusional - but then… why are there already two place settings laid out on his small dining table? Why is there an extra wine glass standing empty on the counter next to the one that's only half full?

Did he… plan this out? Hell, if he did, you're not about to go looking a gift horse in the mouth. Fighting back a nervous smile, you remove your cardigan and hang it over the back of one of his bar stools as casually as you can.

"Sure," you agree, untucking your blouse from your skirt before sliding onto the same stool to watch Yoongi plate up. "Smells a lot better than anything I could cook up." Would it be too much to go unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your blouse too? Show a little skin?

You're reaching to do just that when suddenly Yoongi turns around with his frying pan in hand and you promptly chicken out, clearing your throat. From behind you, Holly and Remi come running into the room, and Yoongi gets distracted when your little lady starts pawing at his leg, vying for attention.

"You want another treat, huh?" With his free hand, he plucks a little brown ball off of a baking tray by the sink and promptly throws it up in the air for Remi to catch, and as soon as it's within her jaws she lies down and merrily begins to chomp, crunching and munching away.

"What's that?" you enquire as Yoongi recommences dishing up, spooning a chicken and vegetable something or other onto a bed of rice. It's a good job you're not a fussy eater or else you might be slightly alarmed that he hasn't even told you what you're having…"The treat, I mean." He looks up from sliding his frying pan into soapy water already waiting in the sink, glancing down at Remi.

"Just some recipe I found online," he explains, casual as ever. He brings over the wine glass you'd noticed earlier and offers to fill it with a tilt of the bottle, doing so when you nod. "She needs the extra calories."

"You made them yourself?" you ask, incredulous that Yoongi would go so far and be so considerate as to go searching for homemade doggie treats. He nods somewhat bashfully, avoiding your gaze as he carries both your plates over to the table and takes a seat. "You're unbelievable," you laugh before you can help yourself, wine glass cradled in both hands as you join him at the table.

Perhaps it might be best not to drink too much of said wine. Seems your tongue is loose enough already without adding extra lubrication.

“I just mean-” You hasten to explain your brazen compliment, not missing the way Yoongi’s eyebrows lift in surprise when you reach for chopsticks rather than the knife and fork he’d placed beside your plate. “- My ex couldn’t even be bothered to learn how to use the washing machine, nevermind bake little organic dog treats in his spare time.”

Glancing over at Remi, you see her standing on her hind legs against the kitchen cupboards in desperate hope for more, and damn, now you’ve gotten a taste of Yoongi’s cooking you can totally understand why!

“Oh my god ,” you groan around your mouthful, chopsticks clicking frantically as you gather up the next, completely distracted from whatever the hell it was you were just saying.

“It wasn’t all organic,” you hear Yoongi mumble, cheeks pink as he takes a sip of his wine. Is that just a little alcohol-induced flush you spy? Or is he secretly flattered? “Just the peanut butter.” You smile, chewing ceaselessly as Yoongi deposits one very large mouthful into his not-nearly-so-small-as-it-looks mouth. He fills his cheeks so full that for a few glorious seconds he resembles some kind of adorable human/hamster hybrid; so cute you just want to reach out and-

"Always had your ex pegged as kind of an asshole, to be honest," Yoongi admits, eyes focused on his plate, and it's not so much the talking with his mouth full that has you nearly choking on your food - it's the bluntness with which he does it. He looks up as you splutter, reaching for your wine. "No offence." He looks mildly alarmed as you cough once more. "It's just I used to hear him all the time through the walls, shouting his mouth off."

"None taken," you wheeze, taking a sip of wine to clear the tickle that's left in your throat. Your eyes are watering and no doubt your face is red, but that's the least of your worries right now, mortified to imagine just how many arguments Yoongi must've overheard during all the time that douchebag was part of your life.

"Sorry if I'm overstepping the mark…" You shake your head quickly, waving off his concerns as Remi and Holly come trotting over as though to check on you. Not that you're so naive as to really believe that - no doubt they're here to scavenge scraps off of the table rather than to ensure your wellbeing.

"Not at all," you chuckle, "Asshole is probably putting it lightly. Never really have had the best taste in men." Yoongi exhales a breathy laugh, smiling wryly.

"Gotta kiss a few frogs to find the Prince, right?" You end up smiling even harder at that, snorting into your wine. A few is probably an understatement, but that's not information Yoongi needs to know.

"Sure he'll turn up one day," you muse, sounding ever so slightly wistful. Your eyes meet Yoongi's from across the table and a beat passes, no words said as the two of you look at one another. You don't dare move - even breathe - lest you risk breaking… whatever this moment between you may be.

Unexpectedly, you feel soft fur against the bare skin of your leg and it startles you despite knowing full well what it is. When you look down, you see Remi staring at you meaningfully, her eyes locked with yours even as she trots her way to the other end of the table to paw at Yoongi's leg, asking for a fuss.

'I like this one, ' her eyes seem to say as Yoongi reaches down to pet her, smiling fondly, 'You should give this one a try.'

Oh, if only.

“We can do this more often if you want,” Yoongi offers as his attention returns to his food. “I don’t mind watching her ‘till you get back from work.”

“Are you sure?” Once again you’re floored by Yoongi’s casual generosity. He doesn’t even look up as he bobs his head in confirmation, his mouth too full to respond.

“She’s no trouble,” he tells you once he’s eventually swallowed, “And Holly likes having her around.”

“That’d be amazing,” you smile, “Thank you.” He returns your smile - small, short and sweet - and you swear each and every time he flashes you a grin you end up falling just that little bit more.

"Does that mean I have even more delicious dinners to look forward to?" you ask, surprising yourself with how flirty you sound. How brave.

Yoongi laughs at your forwardness, sputtering into his wine. You don't really expect him to answer - assume he'll just laugh it off and not say anything at all - but Yoongi looks rather serious as he puts down his glass; his gaze so intense that for a second you actually forget how to chew.

"If you're lucky," he promises, and oh boy, you hope you will be. "But next time, you bring the wine."

And so, you do.

Every night throughout the week that follows, you pay a visit to the corner store on your way home to pick up a bottle of white, or rose, or red. You're fairly certain the cashier might suspect you of having some sort of drinking problem, actually, but Yoongi's been so grateful that you can't stand the thought of turning up empty-handed. And It’s not even as though you always drink the whole bottle, anyway. It’s just a glass with dinner on Wednesday and Thursday, and then one extra on Friday and Saturday when Yoongi invites you to stay a little longer.

And ok, so maybe he doesn’t actually ask you to stay, but when a guy starts asking whether you’ve seen this new show he really likes and turns on Netflix, what are you supposed to think?

You end up thoroughly enjoying the hours you waste away sitting at the opposite end of his sofa with Remi in your lap, even the lazy Sunday evening that Yoongi spends watching some god-awful competitive fishing show that you pretend to like just because it makes him smile.

It’s funny how simple a creature Yoongi turns out to be, considering how mysterious he’d first seemed. He’s a man of few words but what he does say is always interesting, and you’d like to think you’ve gotten to know him pretty well as the week’s gone by. He’s considerate and hard-working, introverted and yet speaks so fondly of the few friends he professes to have. He loves music and fishing, cooking and expensive wine, and when he’s tipsy his voice gets even slower and deeper - his tone so dulcet that you could happily listen to him talk all night.

By the end of the week you’ve spent more time in Yoongi’s apartment than you have your own, and you won’t pretend for even a second that you’ve thought that it’s a bad thing. You’re well and truly smitten; the favourite part of your day now the moment you come home and have both Yoongi and the dogs there to greet you, even though that home is not your own.

Picturing that - thinking of him - is the only thing that’s gotten you through the shittiness of your last few hours at work. You really do enjoy your job, for the most part, but some days are inevitably better than others and today… today was a bad, bad, bad day. The kind of bad day that has you searching the liquor aisle for the whisky with the highest volume of alcohol you can possibly find - the same bottle that you later slam down on Yoongi’s kitchen counter having already let yourself into his apartment, sighing every step of the way.

“Bad day?” he asks, not yet having turned around to see the miserable look on your face. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, too focused on trying to hold yourself together after having struggled to do so all afternoon, so you stay quiet as you give Remi the fussing she’s after. Her tail is wagging with a glee you’re envious of, her fuzzy tummy growing more and more round by the day.

“I can make this Irish if you want.” You look up to see Yoongi standing beside you with a mug of coffee held in both hands and a soft smile on his face, and suddenly it’s just all too much. The dam inside you that’d slowly begin to crack throughout the day finally bursts at the sight of him - overcome with emotion at having him treat you so kindly after having faced such rudeness and meanness for hours on end.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak out as you burst into tears, your elbows meeting the counter as your face falls into your hands, not wanting to have Yoongi see you cry. You can’t see anything with your eyes so tightly screwed shut, but if you could you’d witness the look of shock appear on Yoongi’s face - see his eyes widen and his lips slightly part as the rest of him freezes, unsure of what to do.

You really try your best to stem your tears, but you’re so embarrassed to have him see you like this that it only makes you cry harder, shoulders trembling as you curl in on yourself in an attempt to hide.

“I just h-had such a h-h-horrible day,” you sob, “This one w-woman - this bitch - she was s-so m-mean and she wouldn’t just-” You abruptly stop speaking as an arm is suddenly laid across your shoulders, and before you realise what’s happening you’re being pulled into an embrace; your face nestled into a soft sweater.

“Hey, hey,” you're gently shushed, and it’s not so much that Yoongi's comforting you that helps to calm you down, nor the feel of one of his large hands rubbing up and down the length of your back. It’s more the shock of having Yoongi actually touch you that allows you to finally start catching your breath, your hands unknowingly reaching out to hold onto him. “Whatever happened, it’s over now, right? It’ll be ok,” he soothes.

“Uh-huh,” you whisper into fabric, silently praying that your nose hasn’t run all over it, and although you’re no longer crying you allow yourself a moment more to enjoy the feel of his arms around you. He smells wonderful - his slight body warm and firm pressed against you - and all you want to do is tighten your grip on his sweater and pull him even closer; tilt your head to skim your lips against his throat.

“You ok?” Yoongi asks, and as you finally lift your head and dab away the moisture from under your eyes the last thing you expect is to feel his fingers fleetingly touch your hair. You meet his gaze and the concern you see there is almost enough to make you start crying all over again - but then you watch as his pupils dart back and forth, up and down as he scans your face - and suddenly… suddenly you're kissing him.

Or is it him who's kissing you?

You're not sure who it is that makes the first move, but regardless of whoever the instigator may be, your mouths still meet in the middle. Yoongi's lips are soft but his kiss is firm - purposeful - and utterly takes your breath away. You make a grab for him again, clutching at the fabric at his hip to keep him close as you sweep your tongue across the seam of his lips, Yoongi's hands coming to rest upon your face. They're so warm, so gentle as he traces your cheekbones with his thumbs, and-

All too soon he's pulling away, brought to his senses the moment he feels the moisture that lingers on your cheeks, and the quiet whine of protest that you're unable to hold back has your face burning with shame.

"S-sorry," he rapidly stammers out as he stumbles back out of reach, retreating to the other side of the counter; a barrier between you. His cheeks are flushed with the same heat as yours, unable to meet your eyes as he wipes at the corner of his mouth with his thumb and then rubs the side of his neck. "I didn't mean… I mean… you…"

Oh lord, this is awkward. So, so awkward! What the hell did you have to go and kiss him for?! He looks so painfully uncomfortable right now that you're sure he'd rather melt into the floor than look at you, and oh my god you're such an idiot! What kind of moron goes snogging someone's face off at the slightest bit of physical contact? Are you really that touch deprived?!

"Sorry," he repeats, "You're upset-" You're already up and out of your stool before Yoongi even has the chance to finish his sentence.

"I should just go," you blurt out as you pick Remi up off the floor and into your arms despite her huffed exhale of protest. You're being a coward, you know that, but you're too fragile right now to go through the whole 'let you down gently' routine without sobbing all over again - especially if it's coming from someone you're so crazy about.

No, you'd rather just see yourself out now and save him the bother. Best for everyone if you just pretend this never happened…

"Thanks for watching her." You're moving too quickly for him to protest - to do anything but stand with his mouth agape as you race for the front door like the very flames of hell are licking at your heels.

"Don't forget your-!" you hear Yoongi call, pulling the front door shut behind you too fast to make out the end of his sentence. You scurry down the hall back to your own apartment, and it’s only as you’re struggling to get inside with Remi still balanced on your hip that you realise your hands are lightly shaking.

“Never happened,” you mumble to yourself once you finally get the blasted thing open, relinquishing Remi from where she’d begun to wriggle and squirm in your grasp. “Never happened. It was just one stupid, silly kiss.” You lean back against your front door, exhaling a sigh. “Just… forget about it.”

And oh, you really try. You try everything and anything you can think of to get Yoongi off of your mind, but nothing works; not mindless trash TV, not blasting your favourite tunes while you’re in the shower - not finishing off the bottle of wine leftover from the night before last. If anything, alcohol just makes things ten times worse. As you lie on your bed amidst a tipsy haze, all you can think about is the way his lips felt pressed to yours and of how he tasted like the coffee you hadn’t had the chance to drink. The low noise he’d made in the back of his throat when you’d grabbed at his clothes. It was so hot… he’s so hot, and more than anything you just want to go back there right now and-

You groan aloud in frustration, raking your fingers through your hair to keep them from finding their way into your pants. God, you’re so royally fucked - and not in the way you’re wishing you were - but you’re too far tired and conflicted and just… sad to want to masturbate, no matter how fiercely Yoongi’s kiss may have made you ache. So you ignore it, cocoon yourself in your duvet whilst Remi snores at your feet, and will yourself to fall asleep whilst silently reassuring yourself that tomorrow is another day.

Come the next morning (which is mercifully hangover free), you ready yourself for work repeating just that. Today has to be better - or at least it can't get much worse - and what happened with Yoongi was just… a blip. Carelessness on your part. And knowing Yoongi as you now do, you’re sure he’ll be far too much of a gentleman to mention it anyway.

That’s if he doesn’t ghost you entirely, of course, which is a legitimate possibility.

Luckily, your day does turn out a whole lot better than the one that came before; a small mercy, given how worked up you've been worrying about where to expect to find Remi once you get home. Whether it be in your apartment or Yoongi's, you're unsure which option would be preferable. If she's waiting at Yoongi's you'll have no choice but to go over there and face the consequences of last night's actions - a thought you by no means relish - but if she's at yours… well, you suppose that might just be even worse.

You’re not too proud to admit that Yoongi's help with Remi has been invaluable over the past weeks, and if you're being honest, his friendship has too. You can't imagine going back to the way it was before: barely seeing one another, exchanging nothing but awkward smiles in the hallway. If he were to walk out of your life now you would really, really miss him - to say the least. And that's… kind of terrifying.

At heart, though, you’re a positive person, and you want to believe that things will just carry on the way they have before. And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but your hope is what has you stopping by the same old corner store on the way home and picking up a bottle of wine from a brand you know Yoongi likes, just as you’ve done so many times before. And maybe it might be considered hedging your bets, but after the grocery store you head across the street to one of the local takeout places, too. You know Yoongi’s all about meat, meat and more meat when it comes to food, so it’s not hard for you to figure out what to order; lamb skewers, tempura shrimp, spicy pork belly. Some of it you don’t even like yourself, so you hope to god Remi’s waiting at Yoongi’s and not at yours otherwise there’s a hell of a lot of food about to go to waste.

You order so much, in fact, that your arms are aching by the time you get home - though that does nothing to distract you from the way your heart starts to gallop when it comes time to put your keys in the lock and open up your front door. You hold your breath as it swings open, eyes closing for a second as you pray not to hear the click-clack of Remi’s claws on the floor, and when nothing comes you sigh with relief, never so glad to be greeted by an empty home.

“Thank the lord,” you murmur as you place everything down on the kitchen table, figuring you may as well use this chance to quickly get changed and freshen up before heading next door. Normally you’d just go round in your work clothes, and truthfully there’s nothing actually wrong with what you’re already wearing, but you appreciate just a little bit of extra time to mentally prepare.

Not that it helps, of course. Whether in a skirt or jeans, you’re crapping your pants just as much as you knock on his door but you plaster a smile on your face nonetheless, holding aloft your wine and takeout bags as the door starts to open.

“Hi,” you beam as Yoongi appears, “I brought goodies!” He looks mildly taken aback by the sight of you and how bubbly you sound - even more so when you stride forward to enter without him yet having said a word. “You’re not cooking yet,” you observe as you enter the kitchen and hear the front door shut behind you, Yoongi’s soft footfalls across the floor following shortly after, “Good.”

You turn on the spot, grinning inanely as you try not to make it too obvious that you’re checking him out. Must he really look so effortlessly stylish all the time? He even has that whole ‘just got out of bed’ ruffled hair thing going on, and god, you hate him for how badly it makes you want to run your fingers through it to see if it’s as soft as it looks.

“Where’s Rem?” you ask before your thoughts run too far amok, tearing your eyes away from him in favour of peering over his shoulder towards the living room.

“Think they’re in my room,” he explains, fingers fiddling with the arm of the glasses he’s wearing and then straying into his hair to scratch at his scalp. He must’ve been in his studio prior to your arrival - it’s the only time you really ever see him wearing his glasses. “She’s been acting kinda weird today.”

Frowning, you follow after him as he leads you down the hallway towards his bedroom. You try not to focus on the fact that this will have been the first time you’ve seen it, or mourn that now that you are it’s in less-than-sexy circumstances.

“What do you mean ‘weird’?”

“Just… restless, I guess. She didn’t wanna walk but I had to stop her scratching up the carpet ‘cus she keeps wanting to dig.” He pushes open the door and immediately you gasp, freezing in the doorway. Yoongi sighs heavily, surveying the damage before him. “And ruin my bedding, apparently.”

To be fair, it's not really that bad - and you're not just saying that because Remi's your dog and you're a wee bit overprotective, either. Yes, there's one pillow that's been pulled off the bed and had its stuffing ripped out, but aside from that all that's really moved is his sheets, and whilst they've been pulled into a heap the floor there doesn't appear to be any other damage or… bodily fluids amidst them.

"Oh Rem, what've you been up to?" you coo, kneeling down beside the heap of blankets that the two dogs are curled up amongst. Holly comes alive at the sound of your voice, instantly perking up, and within seconds he's on his feet and visiting you and Yoongi in turn for a scratch behind the ears. Remi, however, is somewhat lazier in her response. She lifts her head slowly, emitting a pathetic little sound as she gazes up at you, pointed ears pressed back against the top of her head.

"What's wrong girl?" Concerned, you're cautious in the way you put your hands on her, but you're relieved to find she's just as eager to receive affection as ever. It's only when you run your hand across her belly that she seems to object, her small body tensing.

"She's been in here for a couple hours," Yoongi informs you as he comes to kneel beside you on the carpet. "I tried to feed her dinner but she wasn't interested - thought it might've been something to do with her throwing up earlier on."

"You think we should call the vet?" Yoongi shakes his head as Holly comes to reclaim his spot next to his lady friend. Snuggling in close, he gives her an affectionate lick.

"I thought about it," he admits, giving Remi's head a gentle pat, "But I don't think she's sick. I think she's in labour."

"Really?" Now that you think about it, the time frame does seem about right. You just hadn't expected it to happen so soon…

"Called my brother and he seems to think so." Looking up from Remi your gaze meets Yoongi's, and you figure it must show on your face how overwhelmed you're feeling because the smile that he gives you is a kind one.

"So, what do we do?" you ask, sinking back from your knees and onto your bottom instead, crossing your legs. Yoongi copies you, and for a second your eyes dart to the expanse of skin that's revealed to you through the rip in his jeans, right across the thigh.

"Not much, apparently. Not unless something goes wrong and Remi needs a hand." You feel anxiety twist your expression and Yoongi brow furrows in sympathy, his fingers drumming against his knees. "We've just gotta sit and wait." You chuckle mirthlessly, rolling your eyes.

"Never really been the patient type." Yoongi smiles, rising to his feet and placing his hand on your shoulder as he goes, giving it a squeeze that makes your stomach go topsy-turvy.

"I guess I better go get us some supplies to keep us going then, huh?"

"That'd be good," you smile, blushing as he squeezes it once more before finally letting go. You turn back to Remi as he leaves the room, worrying your bottom lip until you unexpectedly hear him call your name. He lingers in the doorway, one hand on the frame.

"Everything's gonna be fine," he assures you. "Trust me." And somehow, without question, you do.

It's a little odd, really, how effortlessly things have gone back to normal considering what went on between you last night. Perhaps it's the pressure of the unfamiliar situation you've been thrust into that's redirected your attention elsewhere and thereby alleviated the tension. Or maybe it was just never as big of a deal as you'd made it out to be in your head. Either way, you're grateful.

That's not to say there's no tension at all, mind, but rather than making things feel uncomfortable it's more like… like there's a charge between you. A spark. You can feel it all the while you're sat eating dinner together cross-legged on his bedroom floor, lips tingling from how spicy (albeit delicious) the food is. Coy smiles and stolen glances are made amongst idle chit-chat, distracting you from the waves of worry that rise and then recede with each little sound that Remi makes which turn out to be nothing.

You've no idea how long labour usually tends to last for dogs, but you can only hope that if or when you ever decide to have children, that you handle it just as quietly and calmly as Remi. You hope whoever you’re with is attentive as Holly, too, and you know that’s an odd thing to think but you can’t help but admire the way he is with her; laying patiently just a few feet away, his attention unwavering.

Technically you know it isn’t the norm for the ‘daddy dog’ to be around while his bitch is giving birth (or at least so Yoongi had said), just in case his presence made Remi nervous or agitated, but these pair seem to be a bit an anomaly in that respect. When Yoongi had tried to extract Holly from the room prior to eating dinner, Remi had gotten more restless than ever and so you’d been forced to let him back in despite all the guidance advising the contrary. You’ll just have to keep an extra close eye on him when the puppies actually arrive, you suppose, though you know you can rely on Yoongi to keep him in line.

And to be fair, it seems as though you’re able to rely on Yoongi an awful lot in general these days. Having been so preoccupied with your new job you’ve done shamefully little research as to what to expect and how to prepare for Remi to give birth, naively believing that you still had plenty of time to spare.

Lucky for you, Yoongi seems to have everything handled; the ‘supplies’ he’d previously mentioned turning out to be a heap of freshly washed towels, shiny surgical scissors and some sort of sucker device - the likes you imagine to be used for clearing snotty babies noses. You eye it nervously as you finish your last mouthful of shrimp, silently hoping you won’t need anything other than the towels and a little bit of luck.

“Thanks for dinner.” You drag your eyes away from the scissors, Yoongi’s voice having interrupted your thoughts.

“No worries,” you reply, smiling gratefully as Yoongi takes your empty plate from your hands to stack it on top of his own. He puts them aside for a moment as he dutifully tidies everything away, putting the empty food cartons back into the plastic bag from whence they came. “About time I returned the favour.” Yoongi smiles wryly, no doubt too polite to point out that buying takeout and preparing a home-cooked meal isn’t quite the same thing.

“To be honest,” he says, using his preoccupation as a good excuse to avoid your gaze, “I wasn’t sure whether you were even going to come over tonight.”

Well, there goes the hope that you’d get through the evening without last night’s faux pas being mentioned.

“Well, it’s not like I could just leave Remi here…” you mumble, glancing away as Yoongi sits back down beside you having finished clearing up. You don’t want him to think that that’s the only reason you came but you’re not sure what else to say, fidgeting nervously with the hem of your sleeves.

There’s a moment of silence - a pause long enough that it prompts you to look up, and when you do you see that Yoongi looks just as nervous as you feel, picking at his cuticles.

“I…” He hesitates, huffing as though he’s almost frustrated with himself before forcing himself to look at you. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’m glad you did, though. I wanted a chance to say I’m sorry for last night, for-”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, surprising yourself. His eyes widen behind his glasses, his mouth hanging open having been caught off guard, and god damn it, he looks adorable. “We’re friends, right? I don’t want us to have to keep apologising to each other all the time for every little thing.” Yoongi nods, shutting his mouth.

Was that… disappointment you saw in his eyes when you referred to him as your friend? Yoongi smiles weakly but it looks forced - unnatural - and it disappears too fast for it to have been real. In its wake a frown appears, one that deepens as his attention returns to Remi, and it makes you ache in your chest to see it. Since you’ve become closer, you’ve gotten so used to seeing his smile and hearing him laugh that this just feels wrong.

All of this - you hiding the way you feel, pretending like last night’s kiss wasn’t the best thing to happen to you in… in forever; acting like Yoongi isn’t the best thing to happen to you in forever - it’s all wrong. You should tell him what he means to you. You need to.

“Yoongi,” you say gently, calling back his attention, and when he looks at you your stomach churns so fiercely with nerves you fear you might lose your dinner. You swallow, trying to get a hold of yourself, and bravely reach out to snatch his hand up from where it rested on his knee, threading your fingers between his. He looks down dumbly at your conjoined hands, eyes even wider than they were before. “I… I didn’t mind it. When you kissed me.” You feel your cheeks burning with heat but force yourself to continue, reassured that Yoongi hasn’t immediately pulled his hand away. “Or when I kissed you. However it happened.” You titter a nervous laugh, acutely aware of how clammy your palms are, and you’re glad to see that Yoongi looks just as affected by your confession as you are; every inch of his skin flushed a pretty blush pink under his normal skin tone. “There was never anything to apologise for.”

You flash him a nervous smile once you’ve finally done talking, giving his hand a squeeze of encouragement in hopes that he won’t leave you hanging too long before voicing some sort of reply. A confession of undying love is preferable, obviously, but short of that just knowing he’s not totally repulsed would be enough.

You can’t say you expect the sudden laugh he lets out - nor know what to make of it - and you’re just about to start freaking out and pull your hand away when Yoongi shifts closer to you and places his other hand over the two of yours. The rubbing of his thumb back and forth across your skin helps to calm you, and he’s no longer laughing as he looks into your eyes, taking a breath. He quietly calls your name, leaning closer.

And then suddenly, Remi whines, and the two of you instantly break apart.

“You ok Rem?” Quickly, you rise to your knees and shuffle towards her, frowning with concern. You don’t mean to panic, but this is the first sound of obvious distress you’ve heard from her and you can’t stand the thought of your sweet girl being in pain.

She looks up at you from where she’s nestled amongst Yoongi’s covers, panting hard, and you have to force yourself not to reach out to give her the fussing that you’re longing to. Beside you, Yoongi watches her closely; observes the way she stops panting just for a second or two and seems to stiffen slightly before beginning to pant all over again.

“Is she ok?” you ask, though you’re not sure why you’re presuming that Yoongi will know any more about what’s going on than you do.

Tentatively, Yoong reaches out and lays both hands on Remi’s stomach, waiting for the next pause in her panting. His eyes narrow, fingers twitching atop her fur.

“Her tummy feels hard,” he says, “I think she’s starting to push.”

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath, blushing when Yoongi chuckles in response. He removes his hands from her, placing them back on his lap just in time for Remi to decide she wants to move, and she rises from where’s lain in the duvet all this time and begins to circle and paw at the covers, panting ceaselessly.

“You can do it, girl.” Following Yoongi’s lead, you reach out and gently stroke her back in reassurance, very nearly bursting into tears when Remi chases after your hand when you pull it back, nuzzling into your palm. “We’ve got this.”

The next two hours pass by in something of a blur. You all maintain a careful distance (Holly included), giving affection when it seems like she's in need of it and holding back whenever she seems agitated or restless. She must get up and down to rearrange the sheets underneath her at least a hundred times before the first puppy is born, and you watch on with a mixture of horror and wonderment as it slowly emerges from inside her, trying your best not to cry at the sudden squeal she releases as her baby starts to crown, bottom first.

You won't lie, it's probably one of the most disgusting sights you've ever seen, and yet you can't help but feel overcome with emotion as you watch this puppy arrive into the world, still cocooned in its amniotic sac until Remi instinctively begins to lick it clean. She brings it to life with firm laps of her tongue, not stopping till its little body starts to wriggle and it releases the tiniest of squeaks. Frankly, it's a good job the puppy is so cute, as it gives you something to focus on as Remi decides to chow down on the placenta, thereby separating it from her offspring.

By the time the second puppy is born the first has already started to feed, it's head almost completely hidden by Remi's fur as it latches on. That birth is just as straightforward, too, though Yoongi does have to shorten its umbilical cord slightly when Remi leaves it dangling just a little too long. You're in awe of how confident and competent he seems as he does it, not a hint of hesitation evident on his face from the moment he realises what's needed to the moment it's done.

Ah, if only you could ever be so cool.

It’s only as the third and final puppy is being born that you start to encounter some trouble. You almost start to believe the scan had been wrong and you were only ever expecting two puppies, figuring that Remi must be done having not pushed in almost an hour and a half. But then all of a sudden she’s restless again and after a few minutes more another puppy begins to emerge. The sac of waters around this one looks different - so green and dark that you almost can’t make out what’s inside at all.

“Yoongi.” You say his name out of sheer nervousness, already knowing he’s right there beside you seeing the same very thing. Just like before, the puppy slides out in the amniotic sac onto the towel placed underneath Remi’s back end, but this time she doesn’t seem to pay nearly so much attention to it as she did the others - sparing it just enough licks to break the sac and then turning away, closing her eyes.

All of Remi’s puppies so far have been just as white in colour as Remi herself, and so would this puppy be if its fur weren’t stained an unpleasant shade of green. By Remi’s hind legs it lies limply on the towel; unmoving, unbreathing.

“Yoongi,” you choke out, your eyes spilling over with tears, “Yoongi, it’s not breathing. Yoongi, it-” Stifling a sob, you slap your hands over your mouth as Yoongi springs into action next to you.

Brow furrowed in concentration, he snatches up the scissors and deftly separates the puppy from its placenta just like he did for the one that came before. He scoops it up in both hands and tilts its head down in order to help any fluids that might remain to drain out, murmuring urgently under his breath.

“Pass me the sucker,” he suddenly demands, outstretching his hand, and you rush to obey, your own hands shaking as you place it in his palm and watch on as he precedes to suction each of the puppy’s tiny nostrils and mouth. You pray that that will do the job. To see some sort of response, the tiniest wiggle or smallest of sounds. Anything! But nothing happens - nothing at all - and you can tell even Yoongi’s starting to get desperate.

“C’mon little guy,” he mumbles, wrapping the puppy in the towel and starting to vigorously rub its back, its stomach, its head - up and down all over, over and over again. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Even Yoongi’s eyes are looking glassy now, the tip of his nose turning red as he holds back the tears that you’ve long since succumbed to.

And then, just as your face falls into your hands and a sob shakes your shoulders, you hear the tiniest, most fragile of sounds. A squeak followed by a sharp inhale of breath, and when you sharply look up you see that the tiniest puppy of the litter so far has finally begun to squirm, its mouth opening up wide to display the tiny pink tongue within.

“Oh my god!” You’re half laughing half crying as Yoongi stares down at the new life down within his hands, his eyes wide with wonderment. There are tears trickling down his cheeks but he’s smiling more brightly than you’ve ever seen before, and he’s so heart-breakingly gentle as he lowers the puppy back down to Remi’s level and presents him to her.

“You did so good, girl,” he praises, voice thick with emotion as Remi begins to lick the puppy with renewed enthusiasm. She only stops once Yoongi slowly moves him away to nestle him in between his siblings, encouraging him to feed with softly whispered words of encouragement, and he waits until the puppy is eagerly suckling to finally let go and back off, exhaling a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was-" Yoongi doesn't get the chance to finish what he's saying, abruptly silenced apart from the one lone 'oomph' he grunts out as your bodies collide, dropping the towel with which he'd just been wiping his hands.

"You-" you mumble against his lips between each frantic, urgent kiss. "You - are - amazing." He's blindsided and you can't blame him; unresponsive and unyielding. But Yoongi soon gets with the program, his arms looping around your waist to pull you flush against his chest.

His face is wet when you take it in your hands - just like yours - but those tears are long forgotten as the two of you quickly become lost in one another. It feels so exhilarating to have Yoongi kiss you back so enthusiastically; makes you believe that maybe he's been thinking about this just as much as you. To hear him sigh your name has you melting against him, your whole body aflame with molten fire, and when you gently bite his lip it delights you even more to hear the way his breath hitches.

"You really weren't kidding, were you?" Yoongi asks as he attempts to catch his breath, your attention now focused on trailing kisses along the angle of his jaw.

"About what?" you murmur in reply, grinning against his skin as his hands grab at your clothes when you softly nip at his earlobe.

"About not minding about the kiss."

"Oh no, not at all," you admit, tone playful, and you're just about to begin tracing kisses down his neck when one of Yoongi's hands finds your chin and tilts your head up, bringing your gaze back to his. His lips are curved in a gentle smile as he brushes them against yours, chuckling when you attempt to chase after them as he pulls away.

"Good to know." His eyes follow the movement of his thumb as he drags it across your bottom lip, moistening his own with a flick of his tongue. His touch lingers at the corner of your mouth for just a second longer, and in that moment you can feel your heart racing at the thought of what he might do next. "As much as I'd like to explore this further-"

Beside you, you hear the sound of Remi's puppies softly squeaking, and when you look down to where Remi's lay, you see that Holly has used your momentary distraction as an opportunity to start sneaking over, sniffing at the air. You look back to Yoongi and are met with a regretful smile as he takes his hands off of you in favour of straightening the glasses that had been knocked askew by your passion.

"Right," you sigh, looking around at all of the surrounding mess, "We're grandparents now, huh? Have to be responsible. Mature." ie. not go carrying on like a pair of horny teenagers while there are still pieces of placenta strewn about the place.

Yoongi looks up at you from where he's already knelt down gathering up some of the dirty towels. He smirks in a way you've never seen from him before - a way that makes your insides clench with excitement.

"For now, sure.”

You're infinitely grateful that Yoongi doesn't put you in charge of any of the messy stuff when it comes to clearing up. All he tasks you with is watching over the puppies and keeping a very curious Holly at bay from his new offspring whilst Remi recovers and he deals with the carnage that's been left behind. It's not a difficult job by any means. Holly is more than happy to be waylaid by tickles under the chin and tummy rubs, and you're thankful for that given how preoccupied you are with the images of what’s just happened as they replay over and over in your head.

You still can't believe that you kissed him. That you kissed Yoongi and he kissed you back - kissed you back and, unless you're horribly mistaken, wanted more . And what did he mean 'for now'? Does he want to pick up where you left off tonight? Tomorrow? Maybe he's just saying that to give himself an out in the future? Just in case he changes his mind…

No, no, he wouldn't do that. No one could kiss like that if they weren't really into it, and god , what a kiss. It may have been a while, but you can't even remember the last time locking lips had you feeling so hot and heavy. Have you ever had a kiss quite like that before? You’re sure you’d remember it if you had.

“How’re they doing?” You automatically smile at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, hoping that the flush of your cheeks won’t give away the explicit nature of the daydreaming he’s just interrupted. Stood in the doorway, you notice he’s no longer wearing his glasses, though the evidence of them remains in the pink indentations on either side of his nose. Now that his glasses are gone the dark circles under his eyes are more evident, and you feel your brow creasing with worry as he enters the room and bends down next to you, stifling a yawn as he gives Holly a little love behind the ears.

Whilst not being the most physically strenuous of evenings, tonight has been emotionally demanding for you both, and it’s only now as you realise that that you come to appreciate how utterly drained you feel. You can only assume Yoongi feels similarly, given by the slightly glazed look in his eyes as he checks in on the puppies, one by one.

“They’re doing pretty good, I think.” Or at least, you think they are. One by one the puppies had stopped nursing and fallen asleep next to one another, each with a full round belly. That can only be a good thing, right? “Remi’s pooped.” She hasn’t moved since giving birth, as fast asleep as the puppies laid at her side.

“She’s earned her rest,” Yoongi admires fondly, giving her a very brief pad on the head so as not to wake her. You ‘mm’ your agreement, swallowing back the emotion that rises once more in your chest. You’re so proud it almost makes you ache. “I was thinking,” he continues, turning his attention to you, “Seems a shame to move her. You want to sleep here tonight so you can still keep an eye?”

You feel your lips part at his question, your mind automatically falling straight into the gutter. So he does mean to continue things tonight, then…

Seeing your expression, Yoongi grins wolfishly as he stands, letting out a chuckle.

“The couch pulls out into a futon, so you can take the bed, if you do want to stay.

Oh. So, maybe not then…

You desperately try not to let the disappointment show in your face but you figure it must at least a little seeing as Yoongi begins to laugh again, eyes full of mirth. He extends his hand to you to help you stand and you marvel once more at how long his fingers are as they thread between yours; how delicate yet so strong. The last thing you expect is to be pulled into his arms again so soon and so suddenly, near losing your balance as Yoongi draws you near.

“You’re cute when you pout,” he teases, taking your bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger and giving it a gentle pinch. The smirk he’s wearing is as infuriating as it is sexy and you’re powerless to resist as Yoongi leans in to brush his lips ever so sweetly against yours, ever so fleeting.

He’s enjoying this too much, damn it. You should’ve never given yourself away! Can he feel how hard your heart is beating, you wonder? Can he feel how much you want him from how needily you grab at his belt loops?

“Let’s not rush anything,” he mumbles as you insist on kissing him once more, leaning forward onto your tippy-toes. Sighing, you eventually pull away, eyes opening to see Yoongi looking down at you with thinly veiled amusement. His smile is fond rather than teasing, though, so you let it slide. He’s right, anyway, you suppose. The two of you have only just revealed your mutual affection for one another; no need to go jumping into bed straight away.

Ugh, being mature sucks.

Reluctantly, you part ways for the time being and head back to your own apartment to ready yourself for bed. You fill the small wash bag you usually take on vacation with all the toiletries you might need before embarking on the arduous task of deciding what to change into. Do you go for ultimate comfort and opt for a baggy t-shirt and sweats, or do you dress to impress and slip on a silky camisole?

It takes you a shameful amount of time to decide but in the end you settle on a compromise; one of your cuter, cotton t-shirts and a pair of shorts of a slightly more modest length. After all, Yoongi’s made it perfectly clear that getting laid isn’t on the cards tonight. No point in making too much of an effort - he might start to think you’re not coming back if you take the time to go shave your legs. You cast them a cursory glance as you slip on your sliders ready to go back next door; they’re not obviously fuzzy from a distance, at least.

When you get back to Yoongi’s apartment, he’s nowhere to be seen. You figure he must be in the spare bedroom changing (and boy are you envious he has one of those) because he’s not in his own, and wherever he is he must’ve taken Holly with him as Remi and her puppies continue to sleep just as soundly as when you left. He’s clearly been busy, though; there are fresh sheets on the bed, the corner of the duvet pulled back as though inviting you in. Considerate as always.

You figure you may as well carry on getting ready for bed in Yoongi’s absence, and with a yawn and a rub of your eyes, you dig out your toothbrush and head toward the bathroom, sliders slapping against the floor.

“Oh!” You almost drop your brush when you push open the bathroom door and find Yoongi inside, Holly sitting obediently at his feet. You thank God he’s merely brushing his teeth and not in the shower - or worse, on the toilet - though you still stutter apologies and start to leave until Yoongi waves a hand to beckon you in, unbothered. He smiles at you in the mirror, lips lined with foam, and you shyly smile in return as he hands you the very same toothpaste.

Together, the two of you stand and brush your teeth; the room silent other than the rustling of bristles against enamel. Your eyes keep meeting in the mirror and oh, how you wish you were able to ignore the way your face begins to blush and how Yoongi’s smile just grows and grows the more embarrassed you get. It’s just so domestic, the two of you, stood side by side like this. Like you’re husband and wife just going about your normal nightly routine; you’ll spit and rinse and then dab your mouths with matching ‘his’ and ‘hers’ towels.

Hey, a girl can dream, right?

“Thanks for getting the bed all sorted,” you say once you’re all done and Yoongi follows you out into the hallway with a nod and a ‘no problem’.

“Just come wake me up if you need anything, alright?” This time it’s your turn to nod, and you’re about to head back to Yoongi’s room when he suddenly reaches out and brushes his thumb against your cheek, smiling softly. It grows when you lean into his touch, sighing, and you see his chest rise and fall with a heavy inhale before he reluctantly pulls away. His hand falls back to his side and you have to resist the urge to reach out and take it in your own.

“Goodnight, Yoongi,” you bid him, his name heavy on your tongue.

“Goodnight,” he replies, and just the timbre of Yoongi’s voice alone is enough to make your stomach flip with excitement. It makes it hard to drag yourself away, and even harder to force yourself to relax once you finally slip between Yoongi’s sheets, knowing that he’s just down the hall. It doesn’t help that they smell just like him, too, despite being clean, and maybe it makes you a bit of a creeper but you won’t deny that you take great pleasure in snuggling your face into Yoongi’s pillow, wishing you lying on his chest instead.

You don’t know exactly how long it takes you to fall asleep, nor how long you’re asleep before the sound of Yoongi’s voice awakens you. Bleary-eyed, you look towards the door and see a slip of light shining beneath from the light in the hallway, disturbed by the movement of shadow.

“Sorry, Hol. you can’t go in there.” you hear Yoongi whispering on the other side of the door. “The ladies need their rest.” Listening to them, you can’t help but internally ‘aww’. Apparently, Holly must miss Remi as much as she does when they’re parted, and oh how you wish she could actually understand a word you say so you could prod her awake and tell her so. “You don’t think I wish I was in there as well?”

Wide-eyed, you stare out into the darkness on hearing what Yoongi had said, hands clasped atop your chest. Is that true? Does he really want to be in here with you, sharing this bed? You can’t imagine any reason for it to be a lie; you know all your whispered confessions to Remi are always true enough.

What should you do? Would he be embarrassed if he knew you’d heard? Should you -

“C’mon, let’s go,” you hear him say, the shadows beneath the door disappearing, and it’s that sudden loss that forces you into the split decision you make that has you leaping up out of bed and flinging open Yoongi’s door before he can get too far away.

“You can sleep in here, if you want,” you declare, ever so slightly out of breath. You wish you’d spared a thought as to whether your hair might be a mess but fuck it, Yoongi’s already turned around and seen you now. “If it’s easier.” A hesitant smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he looks you up and down but there’s no such uncertainty from Holly; he happily runs right by you the moment there’s an opening, tail wagging up a storm.

“You sure?” he checks, taking a step forward and oh jesus, of course you’re sure when he’s stood there looking - sounding - like he does; voice rough with sleep, hair tousled and half-dressed. You can only be grateful that he doesn’t sleep topless or else you might just combust on the spot, so deliciously tight are the boxers he’s wearing.

“He’s just gonna keep you up all night otherwise.” You try to sound casual, you really do, but the nervous little giggle that escapes you as Yoongi enters your personal space gives you away. He grins as he passes you in the doorway to head towards the bed, and just before you shut the door to plunge you both back into darkness you see him reach out and pull back the covers from the right-hand side of the bed.

“You sleep on the left,” he says as he climbs in, sheets rustling, “Good.” He must sleep on the right then, you’re guessing, and it makes you more happy than it should do to learn this, smiling to yourself in the dark. You can hear the puppies snuffling around as you tentatively make your way over to the bed, but you're sure Remi will alert you if there's a problem. Right now, you're too busy mustering up the courage to climb back into bed next to a man you've been fantasising about for so long.

“Don't stand there getting cold.” After such a long night, Yoongi’s probably too eager for sleep to have much patience for you dithering around at the bedside. Now that your eyes have started to adjust to the lack of light, you can just about make out his face turned towards you, watching as you finally climb into bed, and it does nothing to lessen the nervous fluttering of your heart.

You’re so tense; uncertain of how to lie or how close you ought to get. You end up lying flat on your back for lack of a better idea, trying not to fidget as you stare up at the ceiling, and even though you’re not touching, you’re acutely aware of Yoongi’s body just a few inches away. His breaths are slow and steady - nothing like your subtle, shallow inhales - and you lie there wishing that you had any hope of remaining as cool and calm as he always seems to be.

Eventually, though, your panic begins to wane, enough that you trust yourself to speak without giving yourself away.

“Night Yoongi,” you whisper, not sure if he’s even still awake. You hear a soft sigh and the rustling of sheets from what you presume must be him turning over to make himself more comfortable. Soothed by his lack of reply, you, too, roll over in hopes of finally falling back to sleep, but when you’re met by the sight of Yoongi’s dark eyes looking back at you, you’re nothing but wide awake.

“Hi,” he murmurs quietly, and even in the dark you can make out the subtle curve of his mouth as he smiles. Your heart thuds in your chest, your throat suddenly dry, and even though you open your mouth to reply no sound has the chance to come out because faster than you can realise what’s happening, Yoongi’s closed the space between you and stolen your voice with a kiss.

This isn’t a kiss like the last one you shared. He was holding back last time - careful, gentle kisses that never lingered, never deepened - but this time is different. This time, Yoongi kisses like he means to consume you, with a hunger so fierce that it sparks a yearning just as voracious within you. It burns through you as Yoongi leans over your body, the weight of his own forcing you to roll onto your back as his fingers weave their way into your hair.

Willingly, you submit to him in each way in which he asks, one by one; when he coaxes his way into your mouth with the press of his tongue, when you hook your leg over his hip when the hand that was in your hair slides down onto your ass, pulling your pelvis towards him.

“Wha-” You gasp as he rocks his hips against you, only breaking your kiss out of the necessity to breathe, and the moment you do Yoongi simply finds another target for his lips, trailing them along the length of your jaw. “What happened to- to not rushing anything?”

“Fuck what I said,” he mumbles in reply, voice laden with desire. Yoongi doesn’t curse very often but there’s something so hot about him doing it now between teasing your throat with his teeth and rubbing himself up against you. “I’ve wanted you for months.”

Well, that makes two of you then. And he’s not lying, either; you can feel him growing steadily harder against your leg each time your bodies move, seeking out one another’s body heat.

“Can I take these off?” You feel his fingers lingering at the waistband of your shorts and eagerly you nod, pulling down one side as he handles the other till you’re able to kick them off somewhere beneath the covers.

“Please.” Rolling onto your back, you take Yoongi with you, seeking out his lips with your own. While his hand reaches between your legs, you’re busy tugging at his t-shirt, baring his torso just in time for your fingernails to dig into his shoulders at the first touch of his fingers, gasping as he brushes the tips featherlight against you.

“Baby,” he groans, and you preen at his use of the pet name, “You’re so wet.” And you can feel that it’s true - can feel how sinfully his digits are able to slip and slide about your cunt, teasing their way between your lips.

“Please Yoongi,” you plead, reaching between your bodies to grasp his wrist and tugging, tilting your pelvis up. You’ve been dreaming about having his fingers inside you for so long that you’ve no shame in showing him just how much you want it. You bite your bottom lip as he gazes down at you; watching, waiting to see your reaction as he presses one finger inside.

“Haa!” you cry out, head tipping back into the pillow, and your eyes are too tightly pressed shut to see the way Yoongi smiles in satisfaction. Craving more from you, one finger quickly becomes two, and you can’t help but grab at his shoulders for purchase as he so deftly stretches you open. Each motion - each thrust and curl of Yoongi’s fingers - makes the most obscene of noises, so gratuitous is your want for him.

Suddenly, Yoongi ceases your kissing, an urgent look in his eyes.

“Can I get a taste?” His request has your pelvic muscles clenching around his fingers with excitement - a response you presume Yoongi rightly perceives as your consent, given the cocky smile that appears on his face.

“Only if you’re as good as your tongue as you are with those fingers,” you tease, breathless. You’re pleased by the way he chuckles - even more so by his reply.

“Even better,” he promises, and though you mourn the loss of his fingers as they withdraw, you’re filled with too much anticipation to really care. His eyes fixed on yours, Yoongi kisses his way down your body, making sure to spare time for each of your breasts along the way. Through the material of your t-shirt he suckles and licks till the material has turned see-through, and only then does he hitch it up under your chin to reveal your chest and repeat the whole process again. He lingers long enough to leave no doubt that he’s as talented with his tongue as he’s said, your nipples tingling long after he’s done drawing them out, stiffened into tight little peaks.

Your hips are squirming by the time Yoong’s head is between your legs. He holds them steady with firm hands as he kisses at your inner thighs, twice suckling hard enough for you to know he’ll have left a mark - evidence of his desire. Your want to see him clearly is at odds with how comforting you find the dark, less self-conscious in knowing that even as Yoongi’s parts your lips with his thumb and forefinger, you’re not quite so brazenly exposed.

“Tell me what you like,” Yoongi instructs as he makes himself comfortable on his stomach. You mumble your agreement, heart hammering with a mixture of nerves and excitement because, in all honesty, this has never really been your favourite thing before. You don’t want him to be disappointed if this doesn’t get you there, hoping he’ll realise that it’s more about the journey than the destination.

He starts slow; long, luxurious laps up and down, ascending from your perineum and back again to gather your essence on his tongue. He moans as he does it, and just hearing how much he seems to be enjoying the taste of you makes it feel all the better as he does it once more.

“I like that,” you sigh, hips shifting to get more comfortable as you close your eyes and focus on the sensation of his tongue. His hands are on your thighs as your own make their way down into his hair, and it’s just as soft as you imagine it to be - Yoongi near purring with pleasure into your heat every time you dig your fingers in whenever something feels particularly good.

“Mm, o-ooh, I like that too.” Your moans become more frequent as Yoongi focuses his attention on your clitoris, the tip of his tongue gradually gaining in speed now that Yoongi’s found his purpose. For someone who has such a small mouth and such a dainty, kittenish tongue, you had no idea he could be so skilled with it - so deft as it wriggles beneath your clitoral hood in delicious figures of eight. “Fuck, that feels good…”

With each second longer that he continues, you can feel a heat gradually rising within you. It starts right there between your legs, burning in your core, but soon you can feel the flush all the way up to your chest and your back is beginning to sweat, your mouth open so each breath is a pant - a gasping moan.

In search of relief you tug off your t-shirt, but it does little to cool you down. Not when Yoongi seems determined to have you falling apart on the end of his tongue, not giving you a moment's reprieve even when your hips grow restless, toes curling into the blankets.

“Oh, oh, Yoongi,” you pant, one hand fisted in his hair whilst your other is grabbing at your own. Your fingers wind in so tight that Yoongi responds in kind by sucking your on your clit so hard it makes you cry out, but the throb of pain it leaves behind on serves to push you even closer to the edge, begging for your release.

“Please, please, please,” you babble, and your prayers are answered when Yoongi fills you with his fingers whilst simultaneously torturing you with his tongue. With artful precision, his fingers crook and curl inside you to stimulate your g-spot, and though he’s gentle to start with, Yoongi is an expert at interpreting the sounds you make to know exactly how rough or fast you want it - not stopping till arousal is gushing from you with every stroke.

“Mm, Yoongi, I’m gonna- oh, oh shit!” Yoongi doesn’t stop as your orgasm takes a hold of you, working you through it and savouring every drop of ecstasy he manages to coax out. It’s only when your body begins to twitch from overstimulation that he finally begins to slow his ministrations, eventually emerging from between your legs when you weakly call his name, tapping on his shoulder.

“Can I turn on the light?” he asks whilst you’re still basking in your post-orgasmic haze, too blissed out to do anything but nod your consent and watch as he reaches over you to turn on the lamp that rests on the bedside table over on your side of the bed. “Wanna see you.”

You have to throw your arm across your eyes when he first switches the light on. When you eventually start to pull it back, Yoongi is still leaning over you, an adoring look in his eyes as he gazes down.

“Would you look at that,” he says wistfully, cupping your cheek in his palm before leaning down to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as it rolls into your mouth but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he stops kissing you just to softly whisper ‘you’re gorgeous’ right against your lips.

“You’re just saying that because you haven’t gotten yours yet,” you tease, trailing your fingertips down the length of his chest. Yoongi chuckles, his laughter interrupted by a groan when you cup his balls through his boxer shorts and press your palm against his length.

“Am not,” he insists, even as his hips rock forward into your hard and he nips at your bottom lip, groaning again as you squeeze.

“Still, I think it’s about time for your turn, don't you?” Whispered into his ear, your purr causes a shiver to run through Yoongi’s body before he abruptly pulls away and sits back on his heels. Seeming to take a moment to collect himself, he runs a hand through his hair, and you can’t help but take advantage of this opportunity to take a good long look at your lover - to admire his slight waist and unblemished skin. His face is flushed with desire and his eyes dark as they similarly trace your form, and you feel the very same blush fill your cheeks when your gaze is inevitably drawn to the ill-concealed erection within his boxers.

Even hidden away beneath black material, its outline is unmistakable - as is the wet patch of material at its tip. Yoongi catches you looking and you bite your lip at the smirk that curls his as he reaches inside his boxers and pulls his cock free, tugging them down just enough for you to make out the dark curls of pubic hair at its base.

“There are condoms in the drawer,” he tells you with a pointed look at the bedside table, but frankly you’re too entranced with the sight of his vascular hand as it strokes the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen up and down to want to look away.

You extend your arms towards him with a coy smile, opening them up in welcome, and Yoongi cocks a curious eyebrow as he shuffles out of his boxers before settling down on top of you, his cock laying heavy on your stomach.

“I’m clean, and I’m on birth control.” You hear Yoongi’s breath hitch with excitement as you place lingering kisses against his jaw, his cheek, his lips.

“You sure?” he checks, and you can’t help but giggle because even as he’s double-checking Yoongi is already lifting his hips and reaching down to take his cock in hand, guiding it towards your cunt. “We don’t need any more little accidents around here.” Your insides flutter in anticipation as you feel him run the tip of it between your folds till it’s slick with your arousal, one nod away from slipping inside with blissful ease.

“I’m sure,” you grin before kissing him again, and this time they don’t stop. Yoongi swallows up the moan you make as he slides his cock inside you in one smooth motion, right to the hilt. He smothers the gasp that comes thereafter when he pulls back and does it again, this time harder than the last. With his tongue between your teeth, the two of you soon find a rhythm that has you both perspiring with effort - the sounds of your heavy breathing mingling with the slap of flesh on flesh and the slick sounds of your cunt.

“Oh god, Yoongi!” you cry out when he alters the angle of his hips, pressing in harder, faster than before.

“I know baby.” He finds your hand where it lays upon the pillow and threads his fingers between yours, clasping it tight as he groans, forehead pressed to yours, and grits out, “I know, I know.”

You pick your feet up off the bed and wrap them tightly around his waist, urging him deeper, and Yoongi doesn’t disappoint. With renewed vigour, his hips surge forward, so deep that from this angle the tip of his cock not only kisses your cervix but grazes your g-spot on the way out as well, and even without any clitoral stimulation you can feel yourself getting close all over again.

“Say my name,” Yoongi urges between kisses, squeezing your hand in his, “Let me hear you say it.” You do as he asks - one time, two times, three times - and every time you do you swear your orgasm looms just that little bit closer.

“Again, baby,” he chokes out, and you can tell he’s getting close too from the tension in his voice and how his cock has begun to twitch, his thrusts frantic now. “Say it again for me.” Yoongi throws his head back, lifting his chest from yours to drive his cock into you even deeper. “Fuck, I love the way you say it.”

There are tears forming in the corners of your eyes as his name tumbles from your lips, so close that it near steals the breath from your lungs. Every one of your senses is filled with him - with the excruciating bliss that’s sizzling through your veins - and you can’t get enough. Gripping tighter, pulling closer. Kissing, touching, feeling. It’s so much. So much, and yet somehow you want more.

“Please,” you choke out against the press of his lips, and you don’t even know what you’re begging for with both your hands held in his, gripping them tight atop the pillow. You never want this to stop - never want it to end - and yet you’re both rapidly reaching the climax, tumbling into oblivion together.

You try to hold back, you really do, but when Yoongi groans your name, pressing in deep, you’ve not a shred of willpower left. You want to give in.

“I’m close,” he tells you, the words gritted out through his teeth, “Feel so good around me, baby.” He nips at your jawline - nuzzles so sweetly into the crook of your neck and smatters it with kisses. “Gonna cum with me? So pretty when you cum.”

“Yes,” you gasp, and you’re so close, so very, very close. “Cum in me, Yoongi, please - please .”

With the sounds of your pleading, Yoongi, too, loses all semblance of self-control. Driving his hips forward into you, he groans at the gradual tightening of your insides, and as his cock hardens even further, twitching in anticipation, you finally reach your end. It’s so intense you aren’t even able to speak through your climax - unable to vocalise how incredible it feels except for the raggedly drawn breaths you take once it finally begins to fade.

You’re disappointed to realise that Yoongi has already cum by the time you’ve returned to your senses, though from how hard he’s breathing you figure he must not have been too far behind. His face is flushed with heat, chest perspiring, and you can feel the warmth he’s filled you with trickling out from where his pelvis sits flush with yours.

He’s still holding your hands, you realise, and when Yoongi leans down to sweetly kiss you as he squeezes them in his own, you feel yourself blush even more fiercely than before, filled with girlish glee. Ridiculous, really, given all that you’ve just done.

“That was amazing,” you whisper against his lips, and his smile is just as coy as yours as he pulls away to look down into your eyes. He doesn’t say anything but his tender expression tells you all you need to know, as does the way he can’t help but kiss you over and over again before he finally withdraws.

“One second,” he tells you as he swings his legs out of bed and you roll onto your side to watch him go, laughing as he’s forced to shoo Holly out of the way from where’s sat waiting for attention, chin resting on the edge of the mattress.

“I hope he hasn’t been sitting there the whole time!” You watch fondly as Yoongi shimmies his boxers back on with a hop and a wiggle. Gosh, he really does have the cutest little butt… “We’ll have scarred him for life.”

“His own fault,” Yoongi dismisses, unconcerned. “I’ll just go grab some tissue.” He leaves the room for a moment or two, and in that time you have to try very hard to resist the urge to shimmy a little dance atop his mattress - the threat of accidentally making a mess on his newly changed bedsheets looming in your mind. At the foot of the bed, you can hear the puppies snuffling around, probably looking for their next feed, and you have to stop yourself from crawling to the other end of the bed to go look at them, too.

As it happens, Yoongi checks on them when he gets back in your stead. He passes you the tissues and then pre-occupies himself with Remi and the puppies whilst you clean yourself up, waiting until you climb back under the covers to finally rejoin you. He sighs in contentment as he gets comfortable, gazing up at the ceiling with a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and all you can do is stare at him in wonderment as you lay on your side, hardly daring to believe that the last half an hour or so was even real.

“I really like you,” you whisper after a minute or two has passed, still unable to wipe the goofy love-sick grin you’re wearing off of your face. Yoongi turns his head to the side to look at you, a cocky gleam in his eyes as he takes in your expression.

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrow lifting. Effortlessly cool, he extends his left arm out across the pillow to invite you to curl against his side. You do so immediately, kissing the spot on which you then lay your head, snuggling close. You feel his lips press against the top of your head in turn, and through his chest you hear his heart begin to gallop as he squeezes you tightly in his arms, curling them around you. “I think I really kind of like you too.”

****

You never intended to keep them all.

One, maybe. You and Yoongi had talked about it; how it’d be a shame to sell them all and not get to see how the pups would eventually turn out. But the more time that went on - the longer the two of you spent with them and got to know and love all their little personalities - the more you couldn’t bear the idea of parting with even a single one.

And maybe you would’ve come around to the idea of them leaving if Yoongi hadn’t been just as smitten with them as you were. You were bad influences on each other, sending each other picture updates whenever either of you were out of the apartment ( your apartment, with both your names on the lease now, not just Yoongi’s). As if you could’ve really brought yourself to use any of those adorable photos to place an ad that would eventually take them away from you. You should’ve known from the moment they first opened up those beady little eyes and gazed into yours that you were done for.

Though five dogs is undeniably a handful, you can’t bring yourself to regret the decision. Not even now, as you hold a double lead in one hand and Yoongi holds a triple in the other, somehow still managing to keep yours conjoined as your pack pulls you along. God help you should the whole lot of them ever spot a squirrel and decide to run, or make a mad dash for a half-eaten pack of crisps strewn across the ground.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Yoongi warns, keeping a good grip on the puppies as they surge towards the greying spaniel that comes trotting along off-lead, his elderly owner just a little way down the path. “Nicely, nicely.”

You hope one day your dogs might be well enough behaved - or at least old and lazy enough - to walk so nicely off lead. The spaniel is adorably patient despite being mobbed by three white, fluffy clouds; their noses searching out every available orifice to sniff. You’re grateful that at least Remi and Holly have the manners to stay out of it, easily distracted by the sound of the treat packet you’re rustling inside your coat pocket.

“Oh, what a lovely little family you’ve got there!” the elderly woman coos as she comes closer, and you thank the lord Yoongi has the good sense to hold the puppies back. Even though they’re almost a year old they haven’t quite yet learned their strength, and you’ve no doubt they’d end up knocking her over if their overenthusiasm isn’t adequately reigned in. “You’re so blessed!”

Beside you Yoongi nods, his chin lifting in pride as the dogs wait to be petted one by one, tails wagging furiously along the ground. He’s too busy watching them to notice the instinctive way your hand reaches for your stomach at the kind old lady’s words, fingers splaying wide over your lower abdomen where a little life inside you grows.

You haven’t told him yet, but oh, you can’t help but start to grin as you imagine how shocked he’s going to be - how happy and excited. If you closed your eyes now, you’re sure you’d be able to imagine the exact smile he’ll wear, all teeth and gums and sparkling eyes.

Yoongi squeezes your hand in his, bringing you back to the present, and you give your tummy one last gentle rub as you return the woman’s smile, heart so full it feels fit to burst.

“Yeah," you smile, catching Yoongi's gaze and beaming all the more, "We really are.”

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

Your feedback is always appreciated, dear readers! Please let me know what you think ^^

Also, I’m sure we all already know what Holly looks like, but just in case you were wondering about Remi’s breed, she is a Japanese Spitz who would like an awful lot like this -

And their puppies would end up look a little something like this -

Freakin’ adorable, right?

Also, those of you who’ve followed my blog for a while might’ve now realised that I modelled Remi after my own little Japanese Spitz, Shiro. Is that awfuly self indulgent of me? Oh yes. Do I care? Not even a little bit *grin*

#bts #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #suga fluff #suga smut #min yoongi #suga #bts fluff #bts smut #domestic yoongi #soft yoongi #ultimate boyfriend yoongi #let's face it

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julies-butterflies · 3 years

Note

“One of us is starting to fall asleep.”-jukebox?

cuddle dialogue prompts ( no longer accepting ) ( read on ao3 )

By now, Julie knows that Luke and sleep don’t exactly get along.

Like... peanut butter and coleslaw. Studying and roller coasters. Alex and high school athletics. Luke and sleep are polar opposites, and flat-out don’t have time for each other. Whatever fundamental sequence of Luke’s DNA, whatever weird criss-cross firing of neurons in his head looks at a good night’s sleep, and decides, “nope, not for me...”

Well, Julie doesn’t get it, but that’s how Luke’s made. Apparently, it’s how he’s always been, even when he was alive. Everyone else just has to deal with it.

“You’re keeping me up,” she announces, drawing her fuzzy blanket tighter around her shoulders.

Luke’s head shoots up, surprised — and sure, he’s got a right to be, considering it’s almost two in the morning. No sane person would be up this late. Not by choice, anyways... and Julie isn’t choosing to be awake herself. Something inside of her — one of those lightbulbs in her chest that blaze bright whenever the boys are near, that can feel them like a low, humming frequency even when they’re out of sight — is still awake, and buzzing. Late nights are like this. Whenever Luke can’t put himself to sleep — whether his brain is too loud, or his body too charged with energy — Julie feels it. She doesn’t want to, and definitely doesn’t enjoy it... but this is what her life has become. Being kept awake half the night by cute, insomniac ghosts.

He lowers his pencil slowly, and pulls his notebook against his chest. Luke sucks his cheeks, looking sheepish.

“Sorry. I, uhh, I was just —“ He gestures vaguely around the darkened studio. A few faint snores echo from the loft, where Alex has set up a private space for himself. Reggie is face down on the sofa in a pile of blankets, hugging them to his chest like a kangaroo protecting its baby. (Julie’s going to have to get him a stuffed animal to snuggle one of these days; half the reason Luke doesn’t sleep, she suspects, is because Reggie’s such a blanket hog.)

The studio is dark except for a single light, glowing in the corner of the room. Luke is curled up there, with his notebook against his knees… but he wasn’t writing when Julie slipped in. He was glaring down at the page like it personally offended him. Now, he sets the notebook aside without a second glance, turning his full attention on her.

“Just felt like there was a song in my head, and I had to get it out. But it’s, uhh…” He gives his shaggy head a shake. “Not coming.”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re exhausted.” Julie crosses her arms. “It’s way past bedtime, Luke.”

“I’m a ghost, though.” He spreads his arms wide and leans back in his seat, like that’s something to be proud of. “Ghosts don’t have bedtimes.”

Without blinking, Julie crosses over to the couch and gives it a firm kick.

“Reggie? When’s your bedtime?”

Reggie snorts, popping his head up. “Ten-thirty,” he mutters… before faceplanting in the blankets again.

Luke rolls his eyes. “Reggie can have a bedtime if he wants to. I’m a free agent.”

“You’re an insomniac, and should probably talk to someone.”

“You know any good ghost doctors?”

Julie’s eye twitches. “We’ll find one.”

Tipping his head back towards the ceiling, Luke clicks his tongue. “I dunno, Jules, it’s been a while since my last checkup… I don’t got time for all the bells and whistles, you know? They’re gonna take that little hammer to my knee, and it’s gonna go right through me… they're gonna look for my heartbeat and be real confused... probably try to give me some spooky X-rays…” He gasps, and bolts upright. “Julie, they’re gonna find out I don’t have a skeleton!”

Okay, thinks Julie, the late hour is definitely getting to his head.

“Is that your excuse?”

The unexpected voice from the darkness sends them both jumping out of their skin. Luke flails, nearly falling out of his chair; blinking up at the loft, Julie’s eyes widen as a phenomenal mess of bedhead peeks out over the railing.

“We all know you’re afraid of needles. You haven’t had a booster shot in thirty years, Luke.” Alex glares down at them both. “Now, either shut up or go away, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Reggie holds up a hand, and mumbles something like “agreed,” into his pillow.

Clapping her palm over her mouth, Julie exchanges a sheepish glance with Luke. It takes every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing — Alex might actually start throwing things at them — but from the way Luke’s shoulders shake, she doesn’t trust him to hold out.

“Okay, sorry, we’re leaving,” she says in an hushed rush… and, before Luke can say another word, she snags him by the arm and pulls him with her.

They slip out the doors of the studio, and break into the humid night air. May in Los Angeles is just beginning to get hot -hot; warm enough to justify tank tops instead of sweatshirts, flip-flops instead of monster slippers. Julie’s pajamas aren’t anything interesting — Luke’s seen her in worse — but under the cool moonlight, his eyes still drink her in as if seeing her for the first time.

“You sleep with all those necklaces on?” he asks.

Okay, maybe he is seeing her for the first time, because Julie’s slept with her jewelry on since, like… sixth grade.

“You’re just noticing?”

“They’re pretty in the moonlight,” he replies, like it’s a foregone conclusion; then his brows furrow. “What if they choke you?”

“That’s not how it works, Luke.”

“Sure it is! All they need to do is get a little tangled up —“ He mimes, presumably, Julie doing acrobatics in her sleep. “And wham, you end up all strangled to death! I know we’ve got a gimmick, Julie, but we don’t gotta make it a full-phantom band so soon.”

“You say that like you’ve got plans for my death.”

“I mean…” He shrugs, the picture of innocence. “Not in the near future, but, y’know, we can't have you out-aging us…”

“Oh,” she says, beginning the long trek up the pathway to the house. “So I’ve got… two years before you guys decide to kill me. That’s reassuring.”

Luke follows after her, their footsteps echoing together. “Eh, we could stretch it to five. Six, tops. You’re tiny, you’ve still got a few good years left in you. Not like you’re gonna go all grandma on us too soon.”

Julie gasps, and swats at him. Luke accepts the hit to the chest with dignity, biting back a grin. He looks unfairly handsome in the moonlight… and Julie refuses to think about that, because it opens up a wole Pandora’s Box of issues, ranging from the obvious (he’s a ghost eternally trapped at seventeen and, unless he somehow comes back to life through the power of music, I am going to get older than him someday) to the serious (he’s keeping me up at two in the morning).

Luke isn’t handsome. He’s a sleepless menace, and Julie shouldn’t entertain him a second longer.

They reach her door. Somehow, they come to a stop at exactly the same time, turning towards each other. Julie tugs her blanket tighter around her bare shoulders. Luke reaches out, and pulls the door open for her.

“I guess —“ he says.

“Yeah,” Julie agrees quickly. “Sounds good.”

“Great.”

“Goodnight, then?”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

They smile at each other for a second, close-lipped and quiet… before something in Julie breaks, and she lays a hand on his arm. Somehow, he’s always so warm under her touch, so solid. He feels like a promise always kept… a steadiness, a certainty. A comfort.

“Come on,” she says softly, taking them both by surprise. “My bed has room for two.”

---------

He’s still so very warm, in bed next to her, with their legs tangled and bodies brushing whenever they move. It’s too humid for covers, so Julie’s got her favorite sheet, instead. As soon as Luke sees it, he billows it up into the air, and lets it fall down on top of them both like a parachute. Julie claps a hand over her mouth to hide her giggles. Even in the darkness of her bedroom — lit by the dimly glowing fairylights she only put on to keep Luke from tripping over her carpet — his grin is blinding. As the sheet flutters down over them both, she stretches her arms up to welcome it; he laughs so loudly, it’s a good thing her dad and brother can’t hear.

“This,” she huffs, once they’re both hiding under the covers, “this isn’t what we should be doing. It’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Totally right.” Luke’s quiet for a moment — before shaking the covers again, causing a wave of air to roll over them. He makes a ridiculous whoosh! noise, and Julie snorts.

“Stop!” She swats at his shoulder again; the sound is harsher than the impact. Luke yelps and curls in on himself, feigning a mortal injury. Over his groans and moans and “Julie, how could you”s, Julie can’t restrain another fit of giggles.

Oh god, she’s gone for this boy. She really is.

It’s two in the morning, and she’s in hysterics in her bedroom over a boy no one else in the world can see… and he’s smiling at her like she’s the brightest star blazing in the sky, and his legs are brushing hers, and she can feel the pulse of his heartbeat, the warmth of his breath… which shouldn’t be possible, because he’s dead.

Luke reaches up. Gently, he brushes a stray curl from Julie’s temple. His hand lingers, and Julie feels dizzy.

“This feels like heaven,” he says softly.

Julie’s breath catches.

“I… thought you said you’d never get there.”

“Yeah, well…” When he chuckles, his breath ruffles her hair. “I’m not much of a believer in the ‘all rockstars go to heaven’ kinda thing… I don’t even know if I buy into that stuff, period.” He shrugs, and glances down, at the bare inches of space in between them. “But this… is what it’d feel like, I think. Right here, with you. This kind of forever.”

“With...” She swallows past a throat that is suddenly too dry, forcing words together in a head that reverberates with heaven and you. Forever. God, can they make this last forever?

Instead of speaking, her hand finds Luke’s in the darkness. Their palms press; their fingers intertwine. He is restless beneath her touch, all calluses and carelessness and nervous energy… but Julie holds him until she feels him relax, then slowly raises their hands up between them.

“I’d like that,” she whispers. “To stay here forever.”

His eyes shine bright. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She swallows. “As long as it’s with you.”

These are exactly the sort of confessions that could not be made any time other than late in the night, or early in the morning — that funny liminal space of existence, the hours where nothing is really real, and everything feels like it matters too much. Julie is floating, and Luke is right here with her. He’s smiling inches away from her face… and if she wanted to lean over, to close the distance between them, it would be as easy as breathing.

She doesn’t, though, because this moment feels sacred. She won’t claim it selfishly for herself — won’t turn it into something it’s not. This moment is shared, between her and Luke... secrets whispered in the dark for their ears alone. It should stay that way.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathes softly, like it’s all he knows for sure.

“You’re amazing,” she replies, in the same voice.

“You’re a star.”

“You’re inspiring.”

“You make me feel alive again.”

“So do you.”

They exhale in the silence, the words floating through the air around them. Julie imagines she can see them glowing in the darkness. If she wanted, she could pluck them out of thin air, tuck them away in her dream box and save them forever. This feels like the sort of moment that belongs there — halfway between dream and waking, almost too good to be true.

For a while, they don’t talk at all. Luke plays with her hair, and Julie twines their fingers. Their breaths match each other’s in the silence. It feels like floating down a lazy river, and slowly, Julie can feel herself being carried away.

She’s only aware of her eyes getting heavier when Luke’s fingers graze her brow, and she can’t force her lids open to look at him.

“Looks like one of us is starting to fall asleep,” Luke teases, his voice soft.

Julie humms, and feels herself smile. “You.”

“Not me.” His voice is smiling, too. “You.”

“You need t’ sleep.” She exhales, and sees it ruffle his hair like leaves on a tree. His nose scrunches up. He doesn’t look drowsy — not like he’s drowning in it, like she is — but he’s not wide awake, either. His head is quiet, his soul is calm; the hive of bees buzzing in Julie’s chest has given up the ghost for tonight. (Little Luke-shaped bees, with beanies and guitars, who keep flying into everything because they’ve got too much energy…)

She bursts into giggles again at the thought. They spill from her lips like honey; she’s too tired to silence them, nevermind hide her grin. Instead, she slumps against Luke, muffling herself against his shoulder. He smells like pine needles and sunshine. His arms wrap around her back to steady her, and she can feel him smiling against her, and Julie thinks…

Julie thinks…

Forever.

“What’s so funny?” he murmurs into the crown of her head.

“Bees,” she replies, and giggles again.

“Oh yeah?” He hums, like this makes perfect sense. “I mean, yeah, they’re pretty hilarious.”

“Mmm.” She presses her face against his shoulder, and decides to stay there. “Mmm.”

For a long moment, he’s completely still — like the world’s most realistic stuffed animal, the coziest pillow ever made — before his hand tentatively begins to massage between her shoulder blades, running up and down her spine.

“You good, Julie?” he murmurs softly, and Julie humms again.

“Stay with me,” she manages to say. Forever. “Sleep here… with me.”

Luke’s caress feels like a lullaby. The lips that graze her temple are a promise.

“Don’t worry, Julie,” he murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow, forever feels good enough for tonight.

#jukebox #juke #my fics #jatp #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #julie molina #this is... The Softest

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hobicomeholla29 · 3 years

Text

Soulmate- Drabble - PCY

Pairing: Vampire! Chanyeol x Reader

Genre: Soulmate AU! /Fluff /Crack

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None

Rating: PG13

A/N: Well look who has returned from her semi-hiatus! xD This is a small drabble I had saved in my WIPS and decided to give it a little life. Unedited, please bear with me. This is my attempt to get back into writing, hopefully, it works lol.

Summary: Sleep doesn’t want to come to you tonight, but a phone call with your favorite person might do the trick.

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You tossed and turned in your bed, not sure why you couldn't bring yourself to sleep. It was way past the appropriate bedtime for someone who wanted to be a responsible adult on the following day.

It didn't help that tonight, it seemed to be one of those cold nights, where no amount of clothes and blanket layering made you feel warm enough.

You considered abandoning the little warmth you had finally achieved after hours, thinking you could maybe get Sehun to entertain you until you felt sleepy since he loved being active so late at night. But you remembered -One- that he lived a mile and a half away and -Two- he would probably send you right back home and to sleep, so you opted to stay put.

Running out of ideas on how to get yourself to finally sleep, you stared into the darkness of your room, ready to accept that you would walk into your office with bloodshot eyes the following day. That was until a buzzing sound coming from your nightstand startled you.

Rolling around in your bed to get in a more comfortable position, you answered your phone without checking who it was. "It's 2 in the morning, why are you still up?" you croaked.

There was no need to check the caller ID, only one person would call you this late at night and that could mean a couple of things, but mainly either his thoughts were running rampant again or he was hungry.

"I can't stop thinking about you, but also I don't require sleep," he answered, voice matching the grogginess in yours due to not speaking for hours.

The way he decided to answer your question had you chuckling involuntarily.

How can he confidently say stuff like this, when it's so difficult for you to even show him proper affection yet.

"Well, you better stop and try to at least get some shut-eye, I'm sure everyone expects you to be at your best tomorrow, no bags under your eyes."

You were pretty sure you heard Junmyeon say something about a show tomorrow and that he needed Chan to be well-rested for it.

"Tell your mini-you to stop running tracks in my head then." he requested, laughing a little. Funny how, even though you could only hear him, you could easily picture his sharp canines peeking out from the corners of his top lip.

Shuffling could be heard on his end of the line and you assumed he was more than likely also laying in his bed.

"Mini-me, get out of my Chan's head now! He needs to rest; tomorrow is a busy day for him, and you aren't helping." You barely noticed your slip of the tongue by calling him yours, yet you didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"That's all I get? Wow and here I was expecting a title or something a little more...endearing. Dang." He mused.

You knew what he wanted to hear, you just liked playing dumb once in a while.

You and Chan had known each other for a while now, however, just recently did your relationship turn into a romantic one, as it wasn't always so.

"Oh~ you mean something like my SUPER BEST FRIEND Chanyeol?" You teased; knowing perfectly well you were more than that.

"We're not JUST friends and you know it. Plus I don't think Sehun would want me to compete for that place in your life." he answered so quickly, you were sure you even heard a slight snarl escape with the sentence. He knew you were teasing him, but you were sure he was pinching the bridge of his nose to not let it get to him.

"I know nothing Park Chanyeol" you smiled to yourself.

There were a couple seconds of silence before he sighed deeply and took another approach.

"So, tell me, baby, what does an undead man have to do, so his ex-prey/ex-friend understands that she is no longer either of those and has escalated to soulmate?"

"If people knew that, they would probably come to the conclusion that I developed Stockholm syndrome."

It was an old inside joke, you both knew that. However, it wasn't too far away from the truth.

Chanyeol was a vampire, and you were once his prey, simple as that. Yet if anyone knew how your relationship with Chanyeol began, they would think you were either masochistic or probably crazy.

"We've had this conversation and we aren't going back to it." He defended jokingly.

"I've said nothing that's untrue, but, back to your original question on how to make me understand that we are now 'soulmates' or whatever that means..."

He scoffed at that, knowing well that you were more than likely making air quotes for the word soulmate, because you really didn't believe in that crap, yet study sessions with Sehun said otherwise.

"Hush! You may prove yourself to be my soulmate by feeding me with a delicious food bouquet."

He laughed a little too loud at that one, leave it to you to make a dent in Chanyeol's bank account by getting him to buy you food.

"First of all, did you just hush me?" he seemed much more awake the longer you bantered, however, the whole thing was lulling you to sleep.

"Yes, so…?”

You heard a deep sigh and slight grumbling coming from him, probably complaining about how you think about food 24/7 but not about him, when he was suddenly back on the phone.

"Anyways, Buffalo or BBQ?"

"Half-and-a-half please and thank you."

"Your wings bouquet will be at your office tomorrow at 12."

"Thank you~" You could feel yourself fully relaxing and losing consciousness, sleep now finally reaching you and you hated to admit that maybe it did have something to do with the soulmate thing.

Both lines remained silent for a couple more minutes, none of you ready to hang up on the other until you finally decided to speak.

"I love you... soulmate" your own heart skipped a beat after the word left your lips, something you won't admit to Chanyeol ever, yet somehow, you felt like he already knew about it.

"I love you more baby. I think I can go to sleep now."

"Mm-hmm, me too." You answered half yawning.

You have no idea who ended the call, but you did recall hearing his deep chuckle before slumber took over you and you just had to accept that his laugh was one of your favorite sounds in the world.

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I hope you guys enjoyed the little drabble.

#chanyeol x reader #exo x reader #exo x poc #exo x woc #chanyeol x woc #chanyeol x poc #exo fic #chanyeol fic #vampire chanyeol #exo vampire au

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1kook · 4 years

Text

subdued

— good boy joon on his bday x fem reader

summary; He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way. tags; birthday boy joon, solo rapper joon, college student reader (unspecified year/age lol), this entire fic is based off THIS joon everyone look and never forget him warnings; kissing, blowjobs, grinding, unprotected, birthday sex, sub!joon word count; 5k

notes; hoooo boy, if you think my other fics were self-indulgent, this one is straight from my 3 am thoughts... anyway. i actually have the same birthday as joon so this fantasy plays off very different in daydream universe no. 794 lol but i understand not everyone is as lucky as us sept 12 babies so i adjusted it 😌

The stoplight down the street from his building takes the longest. He had warned you of its faulty mechanics the very first time you visited. It lingered on red a beat too long, wasted precious seconds you could be spending with him. It’s been the sole challenger to your patience this past year. Every time you wanted to visit him, it was this same stoplight that held you up— made the sugar in his coffee cup settle, the food in its container go cold. It absolutely dampened your mood.

Today, it’s from the back of an Uber that you watch the red glow of the light, gaze fading in and out of focus. It’s raining, the rhythmic pattering of raindrops against the wind shield hypnotizing you. There’s a styrofoam box of takeout beside you falling into the same fate as all its predecessors, tucked inside a plastic bag. It’s his favorite today, the black bean noodles down the street from your university paired with a sickeningly sweet fizzy drink. (There’s a cheap bottle of wine too, but he was never one for getting shitfaced so it had a slim chance of consumption.)

The longer the light stalls, the more nervous you become. One glance at your phone tells you it’s nearing eleven forty-nine, your last message to him just a few minutes before. It was a slew of sad faces as you apologized for the fifth time that night. Another minute ticks by and you’re suddenly hit with the overwhelming fear that you won’t make it on time.

It was Namjoon’s birthday.

At least it would be for the next ten minutes.

You hadn’t seen him all day, your usual Saturday morning brunch postponed by your conflicting schedules. You had a huge group project coming up, and the other students in your group all had lives of their own, jobs, sports, dates, that made their schedules hard to work around. Namjoon, too, was busy gearing up for the release of his mixtape, a collection of songs he had worked hard on for the better half of the year.

He had been planning for this since you first met, around this time the previous year. It was all he ever spoke about these days, which was both endearing and worrisome. Regardless of how you felt about his avid dedication towards his mixtape, you would continue to support him through it all.

You were supposed to drop by after your last class, but one thing led to another and suddenly you were babysitting your neighbor’s kids as she ran off to the hospital. You had felt bad for her, something about a relative in an accident, and had said yes without thinking through what exactly that meant. Two overexcited children and a kitchen lined in cake batter, is what it meant. Your neighbor had returned a little before eleven, and by then you were really cutting it close.

The order you placed had been ready when you got to the little restaurant, and, deciding to forgo bus stop waiting times, the Uber came quickly enough. Because things can never go your way, there was a small accident on one of the major streets that set you back, leading to your driver taking an abrupt detour that you doubt was helpful, and now you were here.

You bite down on your lower lip for probably the umpteenth time, flipping your phone around to check the time. 11:52.

The light changes a second later, your chauffeur for the evening slowly easing his foot off the break and sending the two of you one step closer to your boyfriend. The movement doesn’t ease your nerves in the slightest, foot tapping wildly against the carpeted flooring of the backseat as you think of that creaky elevator. Will it be on your side today? Or will it force you to run four flights of stairs up to his floor?

You won’t know until you get there, absentmindedly tipping the poor soul who bore witness to the rolling waves of tension that had swamped your body tonight. You can only hope it’s an appropriate bill, taking off toward the front doors of his building. The water on the sidewalk splashes beneath your frantic footsteps, tickling your bare ankles. The black boots you wore that day did nothing to save you, a small gust of cold air trying to sweep up beneath the thin material of your dress, luckily to no avail.

The front area is as empty as it usually is, though you doubt the late hour would change that. Knuckle jammed harshly against the flickering elevator button, you wait impatiently for it to descend. His small label takes up the entirety of the fourth floor, studios squeezed beside meeting rooms and offices. It was by no means a monster record label, but it had gained enough fame from the quality soloists it produced over the years; Namjoon was quickly becoming one of those. The carriage is on the fifth floor, right above his, the digital panel beside you says. It passes his floor, passes the fourth, and then… nothing.

You curse every deity in the universe as you watch it freeze on the second floor. You had been so close, you groan, kicking the tip of your shoe against the metal doors. It does nothing to fix the broken elevator, and with one heavy sigh, you turn to the flight of stairs. It was 11:54 now.

The stairway is silent, off-grey concrete walls mocking you as the time continues to tick down. Holding the plastic bag to your chest, you start up the stairs in a hurry. The rustling of the bag grows annoying quickly, your thighs aching half way up. The platforms between floors provide nearly no reprieve before you ascend the next level of stairs, heaving for air as you turn onto the final platform before his floor. Your hair sticks uncomfortably to the back of your neck.

You can’t fling the door open fast enough, heart hammering between your rib cage. The hallway is filled with blissful air conditioning, nothing like the stuffy air of the staircase. You relish in it for a second before taking down the winding halls, torpedoing straight into the room your boyfriend’s in.

“Happy birthday,” you gasp, only hoping you made it in on time. Your sudden appearance has him whirling around in surprise, dark eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets at his surprise intruder. The digital clock above one of his speakers blinks back at you. 11:59.

The surprise wears off soon enough. Namjoon melts back into his puffy chair, easy going smile taking over his features as he regards your ruffled appearance. “Jesus, what’ve you been up to?” he teases playfully, standing up to relieve you of the bag in your hand, still warm against your chest.

He brushes a kiss against your forehead, placing the plastic bag somewhere off behind him before enveloping you in your arms. “Thank you, baby,” he hums, strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. Almost immediately the tension in your body melts away, oozes out of your skin as you bury yourself against his chest. It feels good to be there, the faint cologne from that morning clinging to his white zip-up.

“Sorry I’m so late,” you murmur. Feeling comforted enough, you pull away from your hiding spot against his chest. The arms hanging loosely around your waist don’t let you get too far, low-lidded eyes staring down at you over the straight angle of his nose. “So much happened today— I’m sorry.”

Namjoon waves your apologies off as he guides you towards his computer chair. He plops down first, pulling you over to sit on his thigh. The clock ticks by, and suddenly his birthday is over. The scent of the noodles fills his dark studio, and you become acutely aware of the soft melody drifting from his speakers. Nothing too developed yet, just a simple piano with a bass drum kicking in.

“Another year, another grey hair,” he sighs, leaning back against his seat. You laugh at his dramatics, running a finger through the head full of silver hairs he’s rocking this time around.

“I fail to see the issue,” you muse, shifting about until you can loop your arms around his neck, pulling his face close enough to yours to kiss. He lets you, opening his mouth when your tongue prods against his plush, doll lips. He tastes of that energy drink you know is bad for him, the one that keeps him up way past his nonexistent bedtime. You should scold him for it, but there’s something about the way he molds his mouth against yours that makes it difficult to pull away and do so. You kiss him for a few minutes, lips casually molding against each other.

The enticing scent of the food you brought over has you pulling away with a soft smack of your lips, lazily grinning down at him. “You should eat,” you encourage, attempting to move out of his grip. If anything, the hands on the small of your back stiffen, keeping you comfortably pressed against him.

“Don’t want to,” he whines, half-lidded eyes gazing at you with that tender look. He leans back in, nudges his nose against yours until you’re moving to accommodate him again. His lips catch yours a second time, a soft sigh released on his end. His body feels like a furnace, swaddled up in that nice white tracksuit, some fancy brand he’s an ambassador for. There’s something about him that’s different today, cherry lips catching you in a daze. He seems totally aware of the pull he has over you, moving his mouth against yours like he knows he’s won you over and was now ready to dedicate the rest of the night to you.

You weren’t having any of that, at least not tonight.

Knitting your hands in his hair, you tug. You tug and tug until he’s releasing you with a whine, swollen red lips shiny from your lip gloss. It’s certainly a look on him, and as he pants beneath you, you’re left wondering why he’s chosen to be an elusive rapper when his doll-like face could easily blend into the idol world.

Another mystery you’ll never solve.

“Missed you today,” he admits bashfully, lips pulling into a shy smile he tries to hide from you. You reward his confession with a soft peck against his cheek, hands cupping his soft cheeks between your palms. Despite how easily you’d been forgiven before, there’s a tinge of a whine curling around his next words. “Who blows someone off on their birthday?” he mumbles, eyes fluttering shut.

You chuckle, tracing your thumbs over his skin. They just barely brush against the corners of his mouth, the soft flesh begging to be touched. “Who spends their birthday cooped up in a tiny room?” you reply teasingly, leaning in to kiss the mole beneath his plump lips.

Namjoon inhales softly, head lolling backwards as you kiss down his chin, over his pulse point. “Was inspired,” he weakly defends, the grip around your waist growing tight. “There was a pretty girl in my dreams last night.”

“Oh?” You hum, slithering off his lap. The floor mat he has beneath his rolling chair to protect his hardwood floors is cold. There’s ridges on it that press uncomfortably into your knees. But all that is forgotten when you roll your hands over his shoulders, kiss his neck tenderly, and he groans. “How pretty?”

Your back is straining from being awkwardly stretched over him in a desperate attempt to kiss the entire column of his neck. He doesn’t make it easier, hips wiggling before you as you nip against the side of his neck. “Joon?” you coo, sliding your hands down his chest. The muscles jump beneath his zip-up, one shuddering exhale escaping him.

“R-Real fuckin’ gorgeous,” he mumbles, hands circling your shoulders. He wants to pull you close like he always does, but you can tell he’s equally as conflicted by the need to push you down onto his cock.

The front zip of his sweater gives with one tug, the clicks of the teeth coming apart following your hand down. He’s wearing a plain white shirt underneath, the beginnings of sweat clinging to the flimsy material. You place your hands around his waist, let the fabric catch over your knuckles as you glide them upwards. The sinewy muscle quivers under your touch, Namjoon’s breath catching in your throat.

When you reach his pecs, he barely contains the whimper in his throat, hands releasing you in favor of clutching at the armrest. “Please,” he huffs, the white zip-up halting you from pushing any further. “Off.”

“Of course,” you purr, pushing it over his deltoids. He doesn’t shake the sweater off completely, the sleeves catching over each other in his haste to feel you closer against his body. The t-shirt remains tugged up to his chest, held up by your wandering hands. “Relax for me, okay?” you croon, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip. The plush skin bounces back, redder than ever. He nods shakily, chest rising and falling.

You place a kiss directly on his sternum, his heart fluttering wildly just a few inches away. You feel it beneath your palm, the way it beats wildly out of rhythm for you. The music loops back around, the same melodious tune mixing with his airy sounds. You trail your mouth lower, letting it mold against the faint ridges over his abdomen.

He’s been putting on muscle these last few months. It’s a sight you only get to appreciate in moments like these. Namjoon wasn’t a flashy performer; he was too shy to wear revealing outfits, not that they particularly fit his onstage aesthetic anyway. He liked it simple and dark, wanting his words to capture people more than his looks.

It was a humble approach, really, because you don’t doubt for a second someone with looks of his caliber couldn’t pull fans with that alone. But as you said before, Namjoon didn’t like that sort of thing, and you suppose that’s why he’s declined invitations to join rookie boy groups time and again. He had worked hard to make himself known on his own, frequenting various hip hop scenes until he picked up steam. By the time you’d met him, he had his own contract, with this same company you’re currently in.

Now he was freshly twenty-six, on the cusp of releasing his first full mixtape, completely of his own creativity. His first mini-album had done extraordinarily well, but there had been a lot of outside partners and producers that pushed it along. This mixtape was one hundred percent him, a fact you couldn’t be more proud of.

What better way to treat him than to shower him in attention like this?

You press a soft kiss to his belly button, glancing up just in time to see those plush lips pull into a smile, pearly white teeth appearing in between, eyes fluttered shut. The waistband of his matching bottoms stretches easily enough, giving you a brief view of the dark underwear he’s got underneath. You let it snap back into place, relishing in the tiny gasp he gives. “You’re acting extra sweet for me today, aren’t you?” you smirk, running a palm over the bulge beneath his pants. His knuckles tighten dangerously against his armrests.

“I’m the same,” he chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you give his outline a teasing squeeze. “Just… lower please.”

His statement is followed with one hand on the back of your head, tentatively urging you closer to his stiff member just an inch. He’s so polite and shy tonight, cheeks tinted a nice rosy color as he looks away from your lewd expression practically salivating over the prize hidden beneath his clothes. His bottoms come down around his thighs, throbbing cock bouncing up to tap his stomach.

“Oooh,” you say appreciatively, taking him in your hand. Namjoon flinches, a groan catching in his throat as you trail your fingers over his cock. They end at the tip, swollen and red; you can’t help yourself as you duck down, kissing the tip softly. Namjoon full on shivers, hips bucking against your touch.

“Please, just... touch,” he begs, wiggling around underneath you.

You nod, pulling away to plant your hands against his hips. “Have to sit still for me, big boy,” you remind him, pushing down until his bottom glues itself firmly to the leather padding of his chair again. He does so with a huff. Clouded eyes meet yours, so beautifully framed by the blood that rushes to his face.

Despite calming him just moments before, the first kiss against his tip makes him squirm and buck like a wild stallion, your name falling from his lips like a mantra. Eventually he calms down, labored breath fanning across his chest as he watches you lower your mouth down around his cock. It twitches in your hand, one perfect pearl of cum oozing from the tip. It’s barely rolled down past his head when you strike, the tip of your tongue scooping it up quickly.

A little on the salty side, but it still makes you shudder. Above you, Namjoon isn't faring that well either. He groans, hands clenched over the armrest as he tries his best to be good for you. “More,” he says hoarsely, silver hair dangling over his eyes. It creates a curtain between you two, his beautiful expression hidden from your view.

You ease his cock down your mouth. It feels just as good as you remembered. Your knees ache from being on the ground, but you wouldn’t trade places with anyone in the world right now. An inaudible moan resonates from above you, his back going stiff the further down you swallow him. You could practically feel yourself drooling, excess saliva making his entrance into your mouth so much easier. You get about two thirds down before it becomes difficult, lips pulled taut around his swollen member. The tip is reaching dangerous territory now, nudging against the soft spot in the back of your throat.

You could gag, but that would only startle him away, make him worry about you. You don’t want that, not when he’s melting into his seat with every inch you swallow. So you push the discomfort away, focus on feeling the entirety of his cock in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he whines, shaking his silvery locks away from his eyes when he leans forward to look at you. You take extra care to bat your lashes up at him; he obviously likes the sight, his lower lip catching between his teeth for the umpteenth time that night.

When you finally surpass that initial discomfort, his cock wonderfully resting in your mouth and throat, everything becomes so much better. The drag against your lips feels almost heavenly, never mind the fact it would certainly leave the skin around there soft and tender tomorrow. It’s something you’re willing to overlook, running the flat length of your tongue against the underside of his cock to distract him.

You make one hand busy, reaching down to cup his balls. The skin is soft, but tight, like it’s taking everything in him not to bust right now. The other situates itself loosely against his hip, thumb drawing slow circles against the skin. He’s grown hotter since you’ve gotten here, like your own personal furnace.

He’s a good boy, through and through.

It had admittedly taken a while to tame his wildness; there had been a time where he would push your head down his cock the second your lips touched his mouth. Now, he fared pretty well against his own carnal instincts, blunt nails digging into the armrests in order to stop himself. Thanks to this, you’re able to pick up a comfortable pace against his cock, bobbing up and down between his thighs.

“M-More,” he pants, muscles trembling from the exertion it takes for him to hold himself back. “Please,” he throws in.

You appease him, letting go of his balls to grip the base of his cock. He hisses at the touch, hips unconsciously jumping. You hold him tight, squeezing his cock between your palm until his thighs are quivering too. The descent down his cock is easier too, no longer trying to swallow him up whole every time.

It only calms him for so long before that same plea is falling from his lips again. This time, you pull off completely, lazily jerking him off as you rest an elbow on his thigh, chin falling into your open palm as you analyze his figure. “Always need more,” you sigh, the slippery sound of your hand mingling with his little moans.

Namjoon’s jaw tightens, head falling forward until his chin touches his chest. “Would like to fuck now,” he seethes, his t-shirt growing damp at the collar from all the sweating he’s been doing.

“Is that so?” You smile. As you say this, you loosen your grip, letting your hand fall away much to his dismay. “Your clothes, Joon,” you explain, using his thighs as leverage to push yourself to your feet again. There’s creases on the skin over your knees, skin and joints tender from the position. That gets pushed to the back burner as you watch Namjoon finally fight his way out of his clothing, hands stuck in the sleeves of his zip-up.

“Off, off,” he huffs, eventually tugging it off all inside out. The shirt is next, neck hole stretched huge as he peels it away from his body.

You muffle a giggle behind your palm, placing a hand on his bare shoulder when he’s done. He’s looking at you with those same, desperate eyes, stealing your heart without even realizing. “Adorable,” you tease only to watch the blood crawl over his ears and down his neck. You throw a leg over him, his thigh pressing against yours. Before you can mount him you’re tugging off the thin jacket you’d worn that day, pawing it off until only the thin barrier of your dress is between the two of you.

With both knees pressed to either side of him, you finally show him what he wants to see. The sundress you’d worn that day makes everything so accessible. The flimsy material stretches over your ass, sits pretty around your waist to reveal your sheer panties. The sight makes Namjoon groan, eyes downcast as he fights to see your pussy. You return his gaze with a hand against his jaw. “Look at me, sweetheart,” you murmur, looping your hands around his head, finding their place on the nape of his neck first. Your fingers instinctively run through his locks, drawing an airy gasp from him.

“Yes,” he breathes, lower lip brushing against yours from such close proximity. You smile down at him, easing your core down on him. His cock pressed against your clothed panties, leaving a wet trail against the exterior side of them.

He fits snugly between your folds, hesitant hands resting at your hips like he wants to grind you down but knows better than to attempt such a bold move. You reward his behavior with a faint kiss against his cheek. “Good boy, Joonie,” you praise, barely containing your own gasp as you wiggle over his cock. “Being so nice for me today,” you sigh, grinding down against him.

Namjoon shivers, cock throbbing against your soiled panties. “Always good for you,” he groans, a trail of sweat running down from his hairline.

Another kiss is pressed against his face, this time against his cheekbone as you begin grinding back and forth. “That’s right,” you confirm, hugging him tight to your chest, until his face is practically buried between your breasts. “Even on your birthday,” you sigh, stretching a hand behind you to tug your panties to the side. The first glide of his cock against your folds has him bucking against you, a choked gasp escaping both your lips.

“I-Yes,” he cries, hands wrapped tight around you.

You bite down a whimper, his length running over every inch of your folds. It makes your toes curl when he stimulates your clit. Your attention had been solely on making him feel good tonight, that the barest amounts of pleasure to your own body was enough to make you shake. “Tell me,” you pant, moving back to grab him by the shoulders as you run against his length. “What you would do if you weren’t my good boy.”

Namjoon cries at your sudden pace, head lolling back as he fights every instinct in his body telling him to just fuck right into your inviting heat. “Can’t,” he sobs, eyes squeezed shut.

“Joon,” you growl, snapping your hips forward roughly. “Tell me.”

He shakes his head with another whimper, thigh muscles jolting beneath you. It makes you shift forward, clit running hard along his cock. “No, you’ll—“ he wheezes, fingers digging deep into your sides now. “You’ll… think I’m bad. Dirty.”

You lean forward, shove your tongue into his mouth with no warning. He moans, letting you push his tongue around until yours is halfway down his throat, licking and slurping every inch of him you can reach. You yank his head back by the hair, catching those watery eyes. “Tell me all your dirty thoughts,” you croon, lips trailing down his jaw. “Tell me them and maybe we’ll make them come true.”

Namjoon moans. “You,” he hesitates. While he does that, you reach down to align his cock with your hole, throbbing to be filled. His tip brushes along the tightened lips surrounding your entrance, reducing him to a stuttering mess. “You tell me I’m dirty,” he cries, “dirty and messy, and-and you make me beg for forgiveness just to cum, s-sometimes you don’t like it and make me d-do it again,” he babbles. “I-if you’re feeling mean y-you just edge me. Until I cry.”

You sink down on his cock, your shared arousal making the glide slippery and so wet. It’s almost too easy how he fits inside of you, your back arching as the head of his cock runs deliciously against your walls. The sensation of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock has him gasping for air.

“Until you cry?” You repeat through clenched teeth. “Like you are now?”

Namjoon trembles, hips and thighs twitching every few minutes. He nods his head, but he’s become overwhelmed by his thoughts and your touches, so the movement ends up looking more dazed. There’s a couple tears that escaped and painted pretty trails down his cheeks, one catching on the corner of that pout of his. The rest pool in the corner of his eyes, glassy just like his sweat-soaked skin.

“Happy birthday,” you mumble, brushing his hair away from his face to press a kiss against his forehead. Namjoon groans. “Fuck me, baby,” you purr, wrapping your hands around his neck again. “You deserve it.”

Namjoon lets out a loud cry at your permission, hands tightening around your hips. He wastes no time, bucking into you like a wild animal that’s desperate to cum. You don’t blame him; he’d been close to cumming down your throat, and recounting his demeaning fantasies while stuffed deep inside you certainly didn’t help.

You let him jostle you to and fro, dick slipping in and out of your pussy with an unreal amount of force. He was grunting all kinds of sounds against your shoulder, biting down on the skin like it would calm him. It doesn’t, and you already know there will be a big bruise to attend to tomorrow.

With every thrust, the head of his cock rubs against that sensitive spot in your pussy, back arching at the angle he pushes in at. It makes every hair on your body stand, the animalistic sounds he’s releasing reaching deep into your core.

It’s a brief reminder of what this man was truly capable of, buff arms and thick thighs lifting you around like you’re nothing. He could so easily take you over in the bedroom, push you down and ram himself inside until you cried. But it’s the other way around, and he likes it that way.

Well, you liked it that way too, especially if it meant having this big strong man so pliant under your touch.

“Fuck,” you moan, holding the back of his head closer to where he’s seemingly set on bruising your entire shoulder. “Just like that.”

Your walls clench around his length, squeezing him so tight that it becomes difficult for him to move. A wail catches in his throat, his body beginning to burn out from the initial burst of energy he’d received when you gave him the go ahead. “I-I,” he pants, weakly and unevenly bucking into you. You know he’s close from the cute wavering of his speech, his usual eloquent speaking style reduced to a stuttering mess. You take pity on him, gearing your muscles up again to see him to completion.

It doesn’t take long. A few slow rolls of your hips later and he’s spasming beneath you, your name rolling off his tongue in a series of soft whimpers. He continues groaning even afterwards, hands falling limply to his sides as you finish yourself off.

The thing about this big strong body was that it burned out extremely fast, his head rolling back to give you a clear view of his fucked out features. He was tired, absolutely drained from your little moment, and such was exhibited on his lax frame. Your orgasm rolls around right after, stomach clenching. Despite the shock of pleasure that swallows you up, you can’t help the endeared smile that takes over your features at the sight beneath you as you cum.

“So proud of you,” you murmur afterwards, cupping his face in your hands to deliver a brigade of kisses against his skin. He groans in faux annoyance, letting you turn him this way and that as you shower him in affection. “My baby did so well today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs, though the ghost of a smile tugs at his lips. “What’s there to eat?”

You snort, pushing yourself off of him. You wiggle your panties and dress back into place, tossing him his discarded shirt as you make toward the noodles. They’ve probably gone cold by now, neglected in favor of fucking like two bunnies in heat. Still, you give them a poke. Just as you’d predicted, they’re way too cold to be edible, a fact which greatly saddens Namjoon.

You weren’t having any of that, especially not on his birthday (it was 12:49 now, but technically, it’s still his birthday until he goes to sleep), which is why you make him pack everything up right away. “I’ll heat them up at my place,” you assure him, patting his bum as he whines at the sudden relocation. He’s tugging his zip-up on, the collar tugged all the way up for him to hide the lower half of his face behind.

It doesn’t stop you from pressing a kiss over where you know his mouth is.

“Come on,” you grin, waiting for him to lock up his studio. He falls into step beside you, grudgingly throwing a hand around your shoulders. You beam up at him, leaning onto your toes to kiss his cheek. “I’ll make you cry at my place,” you promise, relishing in the dark flush that floods the apples of his cheeks.

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