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httpjeon · 4 years

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ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ — ᴋɴᴊ (ᴍ.)

namjoon/reader | angst, fluff, smut | dating service!au

wordcount: 10.3k

contents: date for hire, unsafe sex, sensitivity kink, size kink, dirty talk, fingering, car foreplay, safeword use, jimin cameo, panty kink (?), grinding, orgasm control, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, riding, wet&messy, creampie, light overstimulation

— synopsis: club ardor holds a special raffle for a free night with a man who will supposedly be the boyfriend of your dreams. you definitely don’t expect to win.

blog masterlist — series masterlist

The bar was a quiet and calm atmosphere, a Thursday night meaning it was just mostly people having a drink after work. As you wiped down the counters with the rag, you heard your coworker come from the back room calling your name.

"______, have you gotten a chance to check the raffles today yet?" she asked, grabbing a glass beside you to help clean it before you could.

You smiled in thanks, "No I haven't added them to the list yet but a few did pull a ticket today!"

"That's great," she smiled, giddy, "I think it's so exciting."

"A lot of people do seem interested in the service," you nodded, tossing your rag under the counter into the designated bin.

"I mean, how often is it that you get a free night with a man from Club Ardor?" she giggled, bumping you playfully with her hip, "Did you draw? I did."

"I haven't, no," you shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"Why not?!" she gasped, grabbing another glass to dry off.

"I don't know..." you confessed, "I guess I'm nervous about if I win."

"Come on, it's basically a once in a lifetime opportunity!" she whined, turning around to grab the bowl and clipboard, "I'm signing you up."

You watched as she fished a paper from the bowl and handed it to you.

91294 was your number. She quickly wrote it down along with your name and contact information.

A worker from Club Ardor had shown up a week ago to explain the process of drawing and how to keep track. It was easy enough and there were already numerous spots filled on the pages.

You slipped your number into your pocket and turned around when a customer arrived at the bar to order a drink.

Somehow, you'd completely forgotten about the drawing.

It was your day off, after an especially rowdy weekend of working the bar, you were exhausted. Lounging on the couch, you munched from a bag of chips while watching TV.

From the coffee table, your phone began to buzz incessantly, making you frown. Turning to glare at the device, you saw an unknown number flashing across your screen indicating a call.

Wiping your fingers off on your sweatpants, you picked up your phone and accepted the call.

"Hello?" you sighed, hoping it wasn't a scammer.

"Hello, may I speak with Ms. ______?" a gentle, feminine voice filter through.

"Speaking," you responded, now curious.

"Ah, hello Ms. ______! My name is Joy, I'm calling on behalf of the raffle for Club Ardor," immediately, you were frozen in place, "I'm happy to congratulate that you've won the deluxe date package free of charge!"

"I...I won the..." you sat up on the couch, mouth open in shock as she laughed.

"Yes, you won," she giggled before you heard papers shuffling around.

"S-So...what happens?" you ask, heart beating loudly in your chest.

"Well, the winner is matched with Namjoon, he's the one we usually recommend for beginners," she explained, "You'll have 24 hours with him before it's over. The scene will be completely up to him—"

"Scene?" you repeated dumbly.

She hummed, "It's a term commonly used in BDSM. It's basically a planned encounter, meaning that everything that happens between you two is...essentially a role play, in this case."

"I...do we have to have sex?" you gasped at the mention of BDSM.

Joy chuckled on the line like she'd heard such a question numerous times, making your cheeks flush, "Absolutely not. You can if that is something you and he decide you want to do. If not, there is no pressure to do anything beyond talking. There is a safeword that the two of you can use if anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe."

"Okay..." you breathed in relief, "So...So what now?"

"Well, I'm going to ask you to download an app called Club Ardor. It will ask you for a password and it's the same as you raffle number. This will allow Namjoon and you to communicate safely without your numbers being revealed to the other."

"Oh...wow," you were impressed to say the least, "Alright, I'll do that. Thank you."

"If you have any questions of concerns feel free to call back!" she bid you farewell and you hung up.

After the call, you rushed to the App Store to download the app.

Just as you were told, the first screen that popped up was a code box and nothing held. You cursed, realizing you had no clue what the number on your ticket was.

Standing up, you rushed to your bedroom to find your laundry basket. Groaning, you began to dig through to collect all the pairs of your work pants that you had worn that week. You sat on the floor and began to search through the pockets of every pair.

"Ah-ha!" you cried as you pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

You stumbled with how fast you stood up in an attempt to get back to your phone. You completely ignored the mess left behind by your rummaging and went back to sit on the couch.

Picking up your phone, you typed the number on the paper in and pressed enter. A small loading screen popped up before a profile to fill out filled your screen.

It was simple, asking height, weight, and basic characteristics.

After filling it out, you were brought to a simple blank page akin to that of an empty text message thread.

Unsure of what to do, you sat and clicked around for a minute to see if you were missing anything but nothing new happened so you locked your phone. Placing it to the side, you sighed as the nerves finally began to fade.

"I wonder..." you unlocked your phone and clicked on safari.

You typed in club ardor in the search and got a website of the same name.

"Welcome to Club Ardor, an exclusive dating service dedicated to living out every woman's fantasy," is what it read.

You scrolled past the information about how they were formed and where they were located. There was a box that was used to presumably register online for a date instead of calling to schedule. You also noticed there seemed to be a male-exclusive Club Ardor that operated separately from the one you were on.

Finally, you found what you were looking for: the dates profiles.

"Club Ardor's Dates are hand picked into the most desirable archetypes," you clicked next and were immediately brought to the profile of 'Namjoon — The Boyfriend Type.'

To your dismay, there was no picture of him — only basic information such as his height, weight, and age. You were surprised to notice the winning raffle number was the date of his birthday.

'Namjoon is most suitable for beginners. He offers an authentic Boyfriend Experience unlike any other you will experience.'

Beneath that was a small notice; “Namjoon’s service comes in a Deluxe Package and Standard Package. For 24 and 12 hours of date-time respectively!”

Before you could click further to see the other men, you phone made an unfamiliar dinging noise before a notification came in indicating a new message on the Club Ardor app.

As you opened the app, your heart began to race. A new text thread became available from Namjoon.

"Hello, nice to meet you!" his message said.

You quickly replied back with a greeting of your own. It was indicated as 'read' immediately before he started typing.

"Our date is scheduled for Saturday afternoon," he said, "I'll let you know the details as soon as I have them. Do you have any questions?"

You read the message a few times, trying to think if you had anything to ask. Your fingers began typing before you realized what you were doing, "You plan the date by yourself?"

"Yes," he replied, "Every experience of my client is unique so no two women have the same date with me 😁! I will ask you questions to make sure that everything is to your liking so I don't plan something you may end up hating lol."

You smiled, instantly charmed by his personality as you replied, "Alright! I look forward to it 😇!"

Saturday was a week away and you had no idea how you were going to live through the anticipation. It'd been so long since you'd been on a date and now you're about to go on one that would supposedly be your dream date with your dream boyfriend.

Tuesday morning rolled around and you woke up to a couple messages from Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟹:𝟷𝟾ᴀᴍ] ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛ's ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇʟʏ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴜᴛ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ ᴏʀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ? ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟹:𝟺𝟿ᴀᴍ] ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴀsᴜᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴜᴘsᴄᴀʟᴇ? ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟽:𝟷𝟻ᴀᴍ] ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ 😜!

The messages made you smile and you quickly typed up your response before getting out of bed, "I work at a bar and I probably prefer casual...I only won this date, remember? I'm not used to luxury so...and good morning!"

You watched for a second, locking it after a moment when he didn't read it.

"No way, you won?!" your coworker, Yongsun shrieked before covering her mouth when a customer glared her way, "You won the date?"

"Yeah..." you chuckled, sneakily unlocking your phone to show her the Club Ardor app with Namjoon's name on the preview to the text thread.

"Oh my god!" she squealed, grabbing your arm excitedly, "This is crazy! Oh my god, you're going to have to tell me everything."

"Nothing's really happened," you chuckled, "He's just asked a little about me and said he's making the best date he can for me."

"He already sounds like a dream..." she sighed, lashes fluttering.

"Let's get back to work," you chuckled, pocketing your phone.

With your shift over, your feet were killing you and you nearly collapsed before you could get the door closed. Your phone gave a now familiar ding and you pulled it out to see a message from Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟷:𝟻𝟽ᴘᴍ]

ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ?

You texted back letting him know your shift just ended and you were going to be heading home. He read it immediately and began to type.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟷:𝟻𝟽ᴘᴍ] ʟᴀᴛᴇ sʜɪғᴛ, ʜᴜʜ...ʙᴇ sᴀғᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴏᴍᴇ. ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.

You smiled, enjoying the way your heart fluttered in your chest at his words. He definitely had the 'boyfriend' role down to a science. Packing your things up, you bid goodbye to Yongsun and made the trek back home.

As soon as your door was shut and locked behind you, you pulled out your phone to text Namjoon.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟿ᴀᴍ] ɪ'ᴍ ɢʟᴀᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ sᴀғᴇʟʏ. ɪᴛ's ʟᴀᴛᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ. ɢᴇᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ.

You bid him goodnight, and held your hand to your chest. He was dreamy. You wondered what he looked like.

His personality only gave you so much and you wished you could put a face to the man who seemed to increasingly make you swoon.

After getting ready for bed, you sat down and combed your freshly washed hair before pulling your phone out of the mess of blankets you'd thrown it into.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ]

ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴀsᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ?

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟷ᴀᴍ]

sᴜʀᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ.

The pet name immediately had you blushing and you bit back a smile.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ?

He read the message and you waited to see if there was a response. When he didn't begin typing, you deflated slightly and sighed — taking it as a no.

As you tossed your phone to the side, you stood up to go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Once finished, you crawled back into bed and picked up your phone.

You paused when you saw three minutes ago Namjoon had sent you a picture.

When you opened it, you felt like all the air had been punched out of your lungs.

He had blonde hair that was pushed back off of his forehead and thick, pretty lips. You could see the faintest hint of dimples on the flawless skin of his cheeks.

He was probably the most good looking mad you'd laid your eyes on.

As you stared at his picture, another text from him came in.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟽ᴀᴍ]

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜs ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀɪɴɢ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟽ᴀᴍ]

sᴏʀʀʏ...ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇᴅ. ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ...ᴠᴇʀʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟾ᴀᴍ]

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ sʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ғᴀᴄᴇ.

You frowned, feeling self-conscious as you had to follow up a picture of your own face after seeing his incredibly attractive self.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟿ᴀᴍ]

ɪ'ʟʟ sᴇɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ.

ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷:𝟶𝟿ᴀᴍ] ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ ᴏɴ ᴇᴅɢᴇ. ɪ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛ.

The teasing tone and pet name had you flushing, unable to respond as you locked your phone and plugged it in for the night.

When you woke up, you had a text from Namjoon greeting you good morning once more. It brought a smile to your face and you texted him good morning back before once again leaving to get ready.

As soon as you got to work, you showed Yongsun the picture of Namjoon. You were sure she nearly had a stroke as she covered her mouth to scream gleefully before gushing about how good looking he was.

"Man, Club Ardor really...really did choose well, huh?" she hummed, zooming in on his face, "Look at his lips, man, if you don't get at least one kiss from him I will make your life hell."

"You trying to live vicariously through me?" you giggled at her dramatic nature.

"I can't any other way! I'm too poor to snag a date with one of them," she pouted, putting her work apron on with a sigh, "It must be nice to be rich."

"He keeps calling me pet names, it's honestly..." you quickly tied your hair up as you spoke, "He really feels like a boyfriend, it's crazy."

"Club Ardor lives up to its reputation," Yongsun nodded, "I thought it was only a 24-hour thing, how come you've got him for a week in advance?"

You shrugged, putting your phone on silent before pocketing it, "When I won, the lady said it was a special deluxe package. I didn't think to ask. Maybe I'll ask Namjoon later."

"I wonder how many women end up falling for them by accident," she mumbled, opening the staff door leading to the bar for you, "They must have broken numerous hearts if everyone is as authentic as Namjoon seems..."

"I guess that's the price you pay for a fake date with the man of your dreams," you replied, sighing, "They ruin you for anyone else."

Getting home, you noticed you didn't have any messages at all from Namjoon. It was odd but you didn't think anything of it. Heading to the bathroom, you touched up your makeup and fixed your hair before taking several selfies until you found a suitable one.

Taking a deep breath, you quickly sent it to Namjoon with an attaching message reading "as promised!"

When you didn't receive a reply, you decided to just head to bed.

Waking up that morning, you quickly realized it was going to be a shitty day. Your alarm on your phone failed to go off properly — you must have forgotten to turn it on the night before. It led you into getting ready as quickly as you could to get to work on time.

You arrived at the last minute, Yongsun having arrived earlier than you so you didn't have a chance to talk to her.

When your lunch break rolled around, you had the first moment to check your phone. Opening the text thread with Namjoon, you noticed he had seen your picture shortly after you sent it the night before but hadn't responded.

It made you feel bad, your already low mood easily receiving another hit from the bad day.

Putting it on silent once more, you put it in your pocket and returned to work.

By the time you got home, you were beyond drained. Your mood was in the toilet, your feet hurt, and you had barely gotten any tips.

You took a shower, hoping to relax the tense, sore muscles in your back. The hot water and soothing atmosphere helped to clear your mind.

By the time you got out, you were feeling a little better and decided to curl up on the couch for the night in comfortable pajamas and fuzzy socks. Covering yourself with your favorite throw blanket, you turned the TV on and let yourself settle down.

Before long, you were dozing off. You had gotten several episodes into a drama and decided to call it quits once the current turned off. In an effort to keep yourself awake, you sat up and grabbed your phone off of the coffee table.

When you unlocked it, you were surprised to see several text messages from Namjoon.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟷𝟾ᴀᴍ]

ʜᴇʏ sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, sᴏʀʀʏ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴍʏ ᴀʙsᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʜᴏᴡ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴜᴘsᴇᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ɢʜᴏsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟾ᴀᴍ] ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ sᴀғᴇʟʏ.

You couldn't help but smile as you unlocked the phone and typed out your reply.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟸ᴀᴍ]

ɪᴛ's ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟸ᴀᴍ] ɪs sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ?

You were surprised both by his quick response and ability to tell that something was wrong.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟹ᴀᴍ]

ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ʙᴀᴅ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟺ᴀᴍ]

ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪs ғɪɴᴇ. ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴜsʏ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ!

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟺ᴀᴍ] ᴏʜ? ᴡᴀs ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴄʟɪᴇɴᴛ?

You were quite curious about the aspect of his job. It was such an unknown world to you that it actually made you want to know more about what happens behind the scenes.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ]

ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ, ɴᴏ. ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ᴇxᴀᴍ ғᴏʀ ᴍʏ ᴄʟᴀss. ɪᴛ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ]

ᴄʟᴀss? ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ?!

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟸:𝟹𝟻ᴀᴍ] ʏᴇᴀʜ! ɪ'ᴍ ᴀ ʙɪᴏʟᴏɢʏ ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴀᴛ sɴᴜ.

You were stunned. SNU was a tough university to get into, and the fact Namjoon had — he had to be smart. You were confused why a man like that was a date-for-hire. It felt too invasive to ask so you simply replied with an impressed 'that's amazing'.

He immediately began typing again and you waited just a second until the message popped up.

"I've got to go, something with work came up. I just want to say that I enjoyed your picture, you're absolutely beautiful and I can't wait to see your beauty in person. Sleep nice, sweetheart."

For the first time that day, you felt happy.

Friday morning, you were a mess of nerves. You still had work and you were thankful that it would be able to take your mind off of it.

As you worked, you felt your phone buzz and you heart raced in response. You hoped it was Namjoon.

It wasn't until you lunch break that you were able to open it.

He had asked how you were feeling which you replied with an honest 'nervous'.

Before your break ended, you got a sweet 'don't be nervous, baby. It'll be fun, I promise!'

Once you were home, you found yourself opening the text thread with Namjoon to greet him. He didn't respond quickly so you jumped in the shower to wash off the filth that had started to cling to you. You'd gotten off earlier than usual but there had still been the loud, smoking, drunk patrons that frequented on weekends. The smell of cigarettes stunk up your hair so you eagerly washed it, enjoying the scent of your lavender shampoo.

You stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body as you used another to scrunch your hair dry.

Taking a seat on your bed, you noticed the screen lit up with a notification.

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟻ᴘᴍ]

ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙʏ, ɪ'ᴍ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʟᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴅʀᴇss ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴡᴇᴀʀ sʜᴏᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ sᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪɴ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ.

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟼ᴘᴍ]

ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ! ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴀ sᴋɪʀᴛ ʙᴇ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?

ғʀᴏᴍ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟼ᴘᴍ]

ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ғɪɴᴇ, ᴅᴀʀʟɪɴɢ. ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ғᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ!

ᴛᴏ: ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ [𝟷𝟶:𝟷𝟽ᴘᴍ]

ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɪᴛ!

You locked your phone and put it on to charge for the night after bidding him goodnight. Sighing, you stood up and made your way to the closet. Luckily you had an outfit idea in mind and you stood up to fish it out.

Feeling giddy, you hung it up on the hook on the back of your door and picked out a pair of flats. You'd had them for a year, they were still in excellent shape but they'd been worn enough to be more than comfortable.

Then you finally laid down in bed, curling up with your blankets around you.

You woke up at 11 — your alarm pulling you from a deep sleep. Sitting up, you stretched and let out a groan as you joints popped. You tossed your feet onto the floor and stood up, making your way to the bathroom.

When you came out, you spotted the outfit today's date on the door of your closet and smiled. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you eagerly picked up your phone, unlocking it when you saw a message from Namjoon.

Your fingers trembled as you read that it was a simple address.

"Meet me here at 12:30...we're having lunch!"

You decided to get dressed and use the hour you had to do your hair and makeup. When you were ready, you let out a slow exhale to steady your nerves as you slid your shoes on and headed out.

It was wonderful weather and the light breeze felt nice on your bare legs. The skirt made you feel cute and encouraged you to hold your head high.

The address led you to a small, family owned restaurant. You opened the door, taking a look around. It had a rustic vibe and there were a couple people scattered around. You inhaled, the smell of cooking food making your stomach growl.

Realizing that Namjoon wasn't at any of the tables, you decided to choose a booth that was located in a quiet corner.

A waiter stopped to deliver a menu to you before asking if you wanted a drink. After ordering a coke, he disappeared and you opened the menu.

You checked the time, frowning when you realizing it was 10 past the time he'd told you. The waiter placed your drink down and you thanked him.

"Do you want to order anything?" he asked, holding a small pad and pen.

"Um no...not yet, I'm waiting for someone," you replied sheepishly. He nodded and put the pad away before he disappeared again.

As you resumed looking at the menu, eyeing the burger options, someone dropped down into the booth seat across from you. You jumped, head jerking up to meet the brilliant, dimpled smile of Namjoon.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice smooth and rich. It made your heart flutter and your cheeks burn. He was gorgeous, deep dimples and pretty brown eyes that sparkled. His hair was honey blonde but was hanging in his eyes, giving him a boyish appearance.

"H-Hi..." you breathed, looking away when you couldn't hold his stare any longer.

"Cute..." you heard him chuckle before he leaned back in the booth, "Sorry I'm late...work held me for a bit longer than I anticipated."

"I-It's fine," you mumbled, the two of you being interrupted by the waiter placing another menu down for Namjoon and asking him for his drink order.

"Can I get a coffee black," he asked, smiling before looking down at the menu, "Got any clue what you want?"

"I kind of want a burger..." you mumbled, eyeing the different options.

"You read my mind," he chuckled, sending heat to your cheeks once again, "The burgers here are to die for."

"You come here often?" you asked, raising a brow when he nodded.

"Usually after class, it's on the way to my apartment so..." he shrugged.

"Here you go, sir," the waiter said, placing the cup of steaming coffee down in front of Namjoon, "Do you two know what you want?"

After the two of you ordered, you were left alone. Namjoon looked effortless at ease, a small smirk playing on his lips as he looked at you.

"You look cute," he complimented, smiling gleefully when you became flustered, "Do I make you nervous?"

"N-Not nervous..." you mumbled, biting your lip, "It's just..strange, I guess."

He nodded, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand thoughtfully, "I get it. There's build up to it and then when it finally happens it sort feels unreal."

"Yeah," you chuckled, lifting your glass to your lips to take a sip from the straw, "I was meaning to ask you...er," you paused before you voiced the question, "Are you okay with...talking about your...job?"

He chuckled, "Ask away."

"How come you're going to a school like SNU...but working this job?" you asked, "I mean there's nothing wrong with a date-for-hire job but like..."

"I get it," he nodded, sitting back to sip his coffee, "To be honest, I just needed a way to pay my way through. I didn't exactly...expect to pass the entrance exam, it was just a spur of the moment decision, and then when I did...I realized I had absolutely no way to pay for it," he sighed, a smile playing on his lips, "So I was looking around and...the opportunity to work for Club Ardor came up so I took it."

"That's interesting..." you hummed, stirring your drink with the straw, "You've got to be pretty smart to pass the exam without even expecting to."

He chuckled, dropping his head. You could see his ears turn pink and you realized he was shy, "I just...do my best," he cleared his throat and looked back up at you, "So you work at a bar?"

"Unfortunately," you huffed.

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"Not really," was your reply, making him frown, "Kills my feet and it's usually shit pay and tips. I'd quit and get a new job if I could but I can't risk losing my apartment and stuff..."

"I understand," he said and looked like he was going to say something else but the waiter interrupted with the plates of food.

The two of you fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you began eating. You hummed at the delicious taste, making Namjoon smile.

"Good right?" he chuckled when you nodded enthusiastically, taking another bite.

After you both had finished your burgers, he ordered a piece of chocolate mousse cake to share. It was wonderfully easy to fall into Namjoon's rhythm, you realized. He was calm, easy to talk to, and witty — making you laugh by barely doing anything.

You were comfortable with him.

However, there was a heavy feeling deep in the back of your mind as you remembered that this wasn't real. It was his job to make you have fun — he was paid to make you feel nice.

You were surprised to find that the two of you had been there for a while — it was nearing four o'clock. He seemed a bit surprised as well as he checked the watch on his wrist. You couldn't help but notice how expensive it looked.

"I think we should get going, our next destination awaits," he stood up, slapping down a couple bills from his wallet as a tip.

"There's more?" you asked, taking his hand when he offered it to you.

He chuckled, lacing your fingers together as he nodded, "Of course, wouldn't it be disappointing if this is all we did? A whole 24 hours to kill...man, I would not be worth my salt."

"I-I guess..." you chuckled, acutely aware of the way his hand felt in yours, "Where are we going though?"

"Ah...you're not getting information out of me that easily," he teased, opening the door for you to let you out first, "It's a surprise!"

"What if I hate surprised?" you asked, teasingly raising a brow.

"Well..." he stopped in front of a sleek black car and smiled, "I guess you better learn to love them pretty fast."

He didn't let you answer before he was opening the passenger car door and ushering you inside. Once he was sure you were comfortable, he shut the door with a slam and jogged around the front to slide into the driver's seat.

As he began driving, he turned on the radio and let a comfortable silent settle in. You took a moment to take him in; his long, pretty fingers gripping the wheel and the way his jeans hugged his thick thighs. As he stared ahead at the road, you could make out the sharp of his jawline and how his lips glistened in the sunlight after he dug his tongue across them.

He was dreamy to say the least.

"You okay?" he asked, smiling that pretty smile, "Do you want to AC on?"

"No, I'm okay," you replied, looking away at almost being caught.

However, you were quickly forced to look back at him when you felt his hand slide over yours on the middle console until you let him lace your fingers together.

"We're heading out of Seoul," he said, "We should be at our destination by 7."

"Is there something interesting going on out of Seoul?" you asked, making him shake his head.

"Interesting for other people, no. Interesting for us...very much so," he squeezed your hand, bring it up to his lips to press a kiss against the skin.

Your heart hammered loudly in your chest as his lips lingered.

He was good at his job, you'd give him that.

The time passed with the two of you talking; he introduced you to his favorite music and made you laugh as his sang along off-key. He even took a bit to passionately explain a recent portion of his course in college to you — even though you barely understood anything. He looked so cute with bright eyes as he excitedly spewed things off from memory.

It was nice. It was comfortable.

His hand in yours felt nice.

The sun was just beginning to set, casting a vibrant orange glow on the world around you when the two of you suddenly pulled into a side road. The pavement gradually turned to gravel before it was just dirt.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bringing me out here to murder me," you joked as you watched the heavily lined trees pass.

Namjoon laughed wholeheartedly from beside you, "Oh darn, you caught on."

His sarcasm made you smile, your eyes focused on the road in front of you. After several minutes, the trees finally vanished Namjoon stopped the car.

You stepped out of the car when he opened the door for you, grinning.

Looking around, you realized you were in a huge grass field. There wasn't anything in sight as far as you could see. It was a vibrant green, almost glowing in the orange light.

"What...what's here?" you asked, looking to him as he leaned back against the hood of his car.

"Just wait, baby, come here," you flushed at the pet name and let him pull you into his chest.

His arms wrapped around your waist and you could feel his breath fanning over your ear. He smelled incredible, a musky — almost spicy scent of his cologne making your eyes flutter.

You relaxed, your back to his chest as you both stared out over the seemingly endless field.

As the minutes ticked by, the sun began to sink lower and the light diminished further. You were eager to know what exactly you were waiting for.

Suddenly Namjoon hummed, "There they are..."

Your eyes moved from his face back to the field and you couldn't help but gasp at what you saw.

The field was lighting up with seemingly millions of little lights. You stepped forward, eyes wide as you watched the lights dance around endlessly as the field vibrantly came to life.

"This is..." you gaped for a second before looking back at Namjoon, "Incredible!"

"I heard about this place a couple months ago," he explained, pushing himself off the hood of his car, "A friend of mine took his kids out here and it sounded so magical I wanted to come. I didn't have the opportunity to until now."

"I'm so glad you decided to take me here," you whispered, beginning to make your way into the field.

The grass was thigh-high, clearly unmaintained but you didn't mind. The fireflies surrounded you, landing on your body and flickering their little lights brightly.

"I'm glad I took you here too..." he said, making you jump as he was suddenly behind you.

As you looked up at him, you could see the way the fireflies lights reflected off the deep pools of brown in his eyes. He looked ethereal, smiling down at you as if it were just the two of you in the world.

He turned you around, wrapping his arm around your waist and reaching up to cup your cheek. Your breathing stuttered as he leaned down just slightly — hinting at what he wanted.

"Can I kiss you, ______?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Y-Yeah...I'd like that..." you replied.

He smiled just slightly before his lips descended down upon yours. They were soft and as his thumb softly stroked your cheek, you returned the kiss. Your hands found purchase on his chest and you stood on your tip toes to deepen the kiss. He eagerly reciprocated, cupping the back of your head to tangle his fingers in your hair as his lips moved effortlessly against your own.

When you pulled away, you were both panting and he wore a small smirk.

"Ready to head back?" he asked, voice a few octaves deeper.

A shiver went down your spine when you felt his way his hands lingered on your body. You nodded and let him take your hand to lead you back to the car.

The atmosphere between the two of you changed drastically from before. It was tense and heated.

You could feel his gaze shifting to you every few minutes, lingering in a way that had your body heating up. With every second that passed, the more you thought about that kiss.

He was a good kisser. You wondered what else those lips could do. He had pretty hands. You wanted them on your body — wanted to feel his touch on your skin.

It seemed Namjoon shared the same idea as his hand suddenly found purchase on your thigh — bare from the skirt you wore. Goosebumps rose along your skin in response.

His fingers inched towards the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You let your thighs separate for his wandering touch and you heard him release a breathy exhale.

"Tell me if you want me to touch you," he said, making you lick your lips, "I'll only do it if you say yes."

"Pl-Please touch me, Namjoon," you breathed shamelessly eyes fluttering when his hand forced your legs further apart so he could cup your clothed core.

"The safeword is firefly," he growled, the sound only dampening your panties. Your breathing hastened at the soft, teasing touch of his fingers, "Say it."

"Th-The safeword...is firefly," you breathed, letting your head fall back against the headrest as you arched you hips further into his touch.

"Good girl," he grinned, never taking his eyes off the road.

His fingers were skilled and precise, forcing the damp fabric between your folds to find your clit. You shuddered at the rough friction against your hardening bud, biting your lip to hold back from crying out. He let out a breathy chuckle, clearly enjoying teasing you.

You were getting wetter with every second that passed, making your panties stick to you almost uncomfortably.

"Can you take your panties off for me, babygirl?" he asked, taking his eyes off the road to take a look at you as you reached under your skirt. Hooking your thumbs beneath the band of your panties, you tugged them down. You pulled your knees up to your chest to tug them off of your feet.

Before you could toss them away, Namjoon grabbed them and sat up to shove them into his pocket before his hand found purchase on your thigh again.

"Spread your legs wide, baby," he mumbled, licking his lips as you did as you were told.

With your pussy completely exposed, he could see the way your wetness glistened in the passing light from outside. He let out a breathy groan when his digits found their way between your folds, spreading them apart to make you shiver as the AC breezed over your sensitive slit.

You let your mouth fall open with a small whine when he slid his middle finger into your entrance, the long digit easily finding your sweet spot — which he immediately began to abuse. When you looked over to him, you could see he wore a smirk on his lips and it made your walls flutter around him.

He hummed, pulling the digit out to circle your swollen clit — your own arousal allowing him to make effortlessly quick circles on the bud until you reached down to grab his wrist.

He chuckled, letting you slow him, "Sensitive, baby?"

"Mhm..." you sighed, not releasing your hold on him as he moved to sink two fingers into your cunt, "Feels good..." you whispered.

"Yeah?" he chuckled, licking his lips as he slowly pumped his fingers into your wet pussy, the noises almost obscene in the otherwise quiet car, "So tight, baby."

You didn't offer a response, merely grinding your hips down to get him to touch that spot again. When he did, you jolted and moaned. Namjoon hummed, his cock painfully hard in his jeans. He wanted to relieve the ache but both hands were too occupied.

"Hey baby?" he asked, smiling at your dazed 'hm?', "Can you unbutton my jeans for me?"

As you reached over, fingers ghosting over his hardness through the material of his jeans, he added a third finger. It made you paused, instinctively gripping his cock. He groaned, biting his lip at the feeling until you finally pulled the button out of the loop and pulled the zipper down.

"Fuck, that's better..." he mumbled to himself, angling his fingers in your hole upwards to press that spot again — enjoying the way it made you tremble.

He paused in surprised when your hand dove beneath his jeans to cup his cock through the cotton of his boxers, "You're...big..." The comment had him grinning, ego boosted, "You know how to use it, right?"

"Do you think I don't, babygirl?" he growled, pulling his fingers from your cunt to lightly slap your clit. You jolted and covered your mouth with your hand to quiet the shriek you let out in surprise at the sting.

You hummed, squeezing his cock, "I hope you do but...sometimes guys have big cocks that they just can't use."

You felt a rush of excitement as you saw his tongue poke the inside of his cheek angrily, clearly not happy with your challenge.

"You'll see how well I can use this cock soon, baby," his voice was low and dark, "Until then, sit back and let me play with your little cunt, huh? I don't wanna hear anything but moaning from that pretty mouth, got it?"

You didn't answer, resulting in a sharp slap to your sensitive bud again.

"Answer me," he growled, stroking his fingers over your folds to sooth the sting when you voice your understanding.

It seemed like everything turned into a daze around you. You could only focus on the incredible feeling of his hands touching your cunt. Every time it seemed that you were close to release, he'd back off and ease you away from orgasm.

You were growing frustrated, nearing tears when the car came to a sudden stop. Blinking yourself out of the daze, you looked around to find you had pulled into a small parking garage.

You sat up in the seat, pulling your thighs together and shivered when you felt how wet you were. Namjoon opened your door and helped you out, slamming it before you heard it automatically lock — deafening in the garage. He took your hand and tugged you in the direction of the doors.

There was a red carpet leading up the two darkened glass doors which Namjoon easily opened with a slide of a card in the reader that sat on the wall. When you stepped inside, you were stunned to see that it was a breathtaking, extravagant sitting room.

It was furnished mostly white with a couch and chairs, even a TV and table. There was a door on the other side that also appeared to be locked with a card reader.

"This is restricted to the guys and clients only," he explained, leading you over to an elevator. He pressed the button to call it and the two of you fell silent.

You squeezed your thighs together at the lingering arousal, only increasing when you felt his hand trail beneath the back of your skirt the graze over your folds. The elevator dinged and slid open, the two of you stepping inside. Namjoon pressed a button and the elevator doors closed.

He suddenly turned around, pinning you against the wall of the elevator. The metal railing pressed against your spine but you paid it no mind because his lips were quickly pressed against yours. You sighed into the kiss, gripping his shirt tightly in your hands to pull him closer to you. His body was warm and firm, hands gripping your hips to grind his still hard length against you with a groan.

The elevator dinged with the arrival to the correct floor, his lips lingered on yours for a second before the doors began to open. Before either of you could step off, you were greeted by another man who stood with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"What're you doing, Jimin?" Namjoon asked, sounding surprised as he stepped aside to let the other on.

"I was going to go out but now I'm stuck in an elevator with you for another minute," the new man mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back.

You took a moment to look him over, black hair pushed back messily to reveal strong brows and sharp eyes. The man oozed intimidation and you felt your heart speed up. Namjoon seemed unaffected and you assumed it was because he'd been around the stranger, Jimin, a lot.

The elevator dinged once again and opened up. Jimin gave Namjoon a short wave when you both stepped out before he reached over and pressed a button. You caught sight of a smirk on his full lips before the doors closed.

You let out a sigh, letting Namjoon take your hand once again.

"Sorry about that," he chuckled, "We don't usually run into each other like that."

"He's another...date?" you asked as he led you down a hallway. There were several doors that you passed but he was taking you to the very end of the hall it seemed.

"Yeah, that's Jimin," he responded.

"He was...scary," you mumbled, making him laugh.

"A couple of the guys are pretty intimidating," he said, "A lot of girls are into that type though."

"I see..." you said, the run in with another date only seemed to pull you out of the daze you'd gotten into with him. It reminded you that you were only part of his job, and that thought made your chest ache. You felt almost pathetic and you realized how lonely you would feel after you left him.

"Again, sorry," he sighed, seemingly realizing you had been pulled from the scene. He stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hallway, pulling out the card he used for entry and slid it into the door like a hotel keycard. The red light turned green and he pushed the door open.

"It's okay..." you assured, smiling politely when he let you walk in first.

He flicked the light on and you paused to look around. It was a homely, casually decorated room. There was a TV and a couch connected to a kitchen. You could see through a doorway across the room that it was a bedroom. The carpet was soft and warm beneath your feet when you took your shoes off.

"This is our room for the night," he smiled, placing his keys and wallet into a drawer next to the door, which automatically locked with a keycode, "I chose it just for you."

"There are other rooms to choose from?" you asked, wandering further into the living room to take a seat on the couch.

"Yeah, this whole floor is actually mine," he said, kicking his own shoes off, "We all have our own floor. Each room is furnished and styled differently according to client and scene."

"Interesting," you sighed, letting yourself relax on the couch as Namjoon wandered into the kitchen.

You watched him open the fridge and pull out a couple bottles of coke. He placed it down on the coffee table in front of you before he sat down as well.

"Thanks," you smiled as he put his arm around your shoulders and grabbed the remote, turning the TV on.

After a moment of him channel surfing, you realized you needed to pee. Excusing yourself, you followed his directions into the bedroom to the bathroom.

The bedroom was designed just as homely as the living room, with a bed of several fluffy pillows and a bedspread that looked soft. There was a dresser and bedside tables as well. It sort of looked like a bedroom a couple would share.

Shaking that thought from your head, you stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Namjoon sat on the couch and sighed when he heard the bathroom door close. He could tell you felt strange about everything now and he cursed Jimin's appearance.

The only way the scenes worked was if he was able to make his client feel like their relationship was real and genuine. Usually he would let his client figure her own way around and he'd move on with his job but for some reason he really wanted to see you lost in everything with him.

You weren't familiar with this life whereas his clientele consisted of women who regularly used dating services. The way everything was so new to you was endearing and he wanted you to have a good time.

He broke out of his thoughts when you sheepishly called his name from the doorway of the bedroom.

"What is it, baby?" he asked, glancing at the way you gripped the edge of your skirt.

"Y-You still have my um..." a smile bloomed across his face as you inched closer to him until you were standing in front of him.

"Your what?" he asked, cocking his head to the side in faux confusion.

"M-My panties," you grumbled, holding your hand out, "Give them back, it feels weird not wearing any."

"I think I prefer you without them," he grinned, sitting forward.

Your breathing stuttered when his hands gripped your thighs, urging you forward until your standing between his spread knees. His fingers found the edge of your blouse, pulling it out of the band of your skirt. Your hands naturally found purchase on his hair as he leaned forward to press a soft kiss against the soft skin of your stomach.

His hair was soft and he sighed when you tugged it as his lips ghosted over a sensitive spot. Pulling back, he reached up to undo the first button of your shirt, pausing to give you a chance to stop him. When you didn't, he continued to undo the buttons until it was hanging open. He licked his lips as he sat back to admire you, your breasts looking wonderful in the pretty bralette he knew you wore just for him. It wasn't lost on him that it matched your panties.

His hands traveled up your body until he cupped your breasts through the bra, making you sigh and arch your back for him. He pushed the bottom up until your breasts came into view and he felt his cock throb in his jeans at the sight of your perked nipples.

Your cheeks burned hot as he shamelessly drank in the sight of your bare breasts. You quickly stripped the article off, leaving you in your skirt alone.

He released a shaky breath and grabbed your hips, urging you forward until you fell into his lap. Cupping the back of your head, he brought you down for a heated kiss. You could feel his length, so hard, beneath you and you reached down to unbutton his jeans once again. This time, however, you pulled his cock free. You could see precum glistening on the tip and as you gave him a quick squeeze, you watched it drip down the head to meet your hand.

He pulled you down so you were suddenly sitting on his cock, the shaft sliding between your wet folds. He groaned, head falling back as you immediately began to grind against him, your clit sliding along the sensitive underside of him.

"You're so wet..." he breathed as he felt you dripping down his cock, "Does it feel good, baby?"

"So good," you whined, gripping his shoulders as you eagerly ground yourself against him, your clit throbbing as you were reminded how you were edged and denied by him earlier.

The high you'd missed out on was rapidly growing again, making you tremble in anticipation. Namjoon sensed your impending orgasm and quickly stopped you, forcing you back onto your knees.

Before you could voice your complaints at being denied again, you were roughly pinned down with Namjoon hovering over you. He leaned down, cupping your cheek as he pulled you in for a kiss.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt his cock at your entrance. You could distantly register the crinkle of a condom wrapper but were too absorbed in the kiss to think about it.

You both froze, eyes locking as he sunk into your tight cunt, your walls squeezing him so perfectly that it made his lashes flutter. Neither of you wanted to wait, you arched your hips, grinding down on him until he pulled back.

When he sunk into you completely and you cried out when he found your sweet spot with practiced ease.

"Holy shit," you whined, clinging to his shirt as he focused on hitting that spot.

"Feel good?" he asked, a cocky smirk on his face when you nodded, "Think I know how to use my cock?"

"Fuck, yes," you panted, losing your grip on him when he suddenly sat back on his knees.

He gripped you beneath your knees and pinned them to your chest. You were left deliciously exposed and the angle allowed him to hit your spot even better. The orgasm you continued to be denied was growing once again.

Sweat caused Namjoon's hair to cling to his forehead and there was a dark glaze in his eyes as he watched the way you hungrily took him in. Your cunt was creaming wet as you gushed on him, painfully close to cumming but unable to without him touching your clit.

He grinned as you whined, dangling so close to the edge, he kept building you up but never let you fall over. The desperate way you ground against him made his cock throb, close to his own orgasm.

It turned him on, having such control over you. Knowing that he was the only one who could make you cum in this moment.

"Please, please make me cum, Joon..." you practically sobbed.

The nickname took him by surprise, throwing him off guard and it pushed him over the edge. You whined when he stilled, feeling the way his cock was throbbing in the throws of his orgasm, the lovely little groan he gave as pleasure coursed through his body.

He pulled out, watching the way you trembled. The denial was painful, leaving you with teary eyes and pouting lips.

Suddenly, he was sinking two fingers into your entrance and there was the hot feeling of his tongue on your clit. Your hands flew down to grip his hair. He pumped his fingers upwards, hitting your spot as he sucked your bud into his mouth.

Your walls fluttered and tightened around him with your high. Your whole body tensed before you were cumming. He groaned, releasing your clit from his lips but flattening his tongue against it as it pulsed in time to your orgasm.

You were crying out, the orgasm that had been denied several times being one of the most powerful you'd ever experienced.

Before long, you were whining in overstimulation until he finally pulled his fingers from your cunt. Giving you a final lick to your clit, enjoying the way it made your body jolt, he pulled away.

He brought his cum soaked fingers to his lips, meeting your gaze as he took them into his mouth. Your squeezed your thighs together at the way he moaned at your taste, swirling his tongue around the digits until he deemed them clean enough.

Then, he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours — letting you barely taste yourself.

The two of you were panting, worn out from the intense session.

"We should get cleaned up," he breathed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

"Yeah," you nodded, letting him pull you up and lead you to the bathroom.

He closed the door and began to strip. The only thing you had to do was push your skirt down until you were completely nude.

"I've...never done that before," he suddenly said as you both stepped beneath the rainhead shower, hot water pouring over you both.

"Done what?" you asked, smoothing your hands over you skin to quell the goosebumps.

"Used my...mouth," he mumbled before quickly shaking his head, "I-I mean I've eaten girls out before, I've had girlfriends obviously but...I've never done it with a client."

"Oh..." you hummed, meeting his gaze. He seemed almost nervous, "Th-Thanks...for doing it with me, I guess?"

He chuckled, nervously reaching up to comb his now wet hair back, "Don't take this the wrong way but...I really don't know why I did it. I just...had this overwhelming need to taste you..."

The confession send a shiver down your spine and you bit your lip, "And...was it up to your standards."

He grinned, stepping forward until he was towering over you, "Exceeded them."

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, sighing into the kiss. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he pulled you closer to him.

"I want to do it again," he mumbled, reaching behind him to shut the water off.

"Wh—!" you were cut off by him suddenly picking you up. Clinging to him, you were paranoid he would drop you but before you could enjoy being in his arms, he was tossing you onto the bed.

Neither of you cared you were soaking wet from the shower, he spread your legs and dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was perfect height to slide his tongue through your folds, making you sigh. You were still sensitive and eagerly spread your legs for more.

He was good with his tongue, letting his tongue find its way into your entrance — hot and wet. Mouthing at your clit, he swirled his tongue around the bud, enjoying the way you whined at the stimulation. Reaching down, you ran your fingers through his wet hair and tugged.

Namjoon was in heaven, the taste of you sweet juices on his tongue going straight to his cock. It was maddening how you had such a strong effect on him.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he slid his tongue between your folds with a moan. He took your clit into his mouth, the tip of his tongue flicking lightly to make your thighs jump.

"I'm gonna cum..." you whined, arching your back as you abandoned your hold on his hair in favor of the sheets.

"Cum," he urged, never stopping his tongue on your clit, even as you arched and let out a low moan. You trembled in his hold and gasped, clamping your thighs around his head to stop him when it quickly turned into overstimulation.

He stood up, eagerly crawling onto the bed, meeting your lips for yet another feverish kiss. Reaching down, you wrapped your hand around his hardened shaft, pumping it a few times until he moaned and pulled away.

"Ride me?" he breathed, making your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, the two of you moving effortlessly together until you were positioned above his cock.

"C-Condom?" you asked, remembering how he had gotten one earlier.

"Fuck..." he dropped his head back, eyes following your wetness as it dripped onto the head of his cock, "I...You can say no but...I don't fucking want one."

"Me either," you confessed, prodding the very tip of him at your entrance.

"I trust you're clean?" he asked, watching you nod though he was fully aware that you could be lying, "Fuck, take me in, baby."

You did so without hesitation, the two of you groaning as you sunk down on him — walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. You rolled your hips against him, grinding your sensitive clit against his pelvic bone. Sighing in pleasure, you pulled yourself almost completely off before dropping back down.

Namjoon /whimpered/, gripping your hips as you eagerly began to ride him. You reached up, pinching your own nipples as you effortlessly moved. Your walls spasmed and clenched around him, the feeling of him stuffing you full intoxicating.

"Th-This is so fucking reckless," he choked out, knocking your hand away to cup one of your breasts, "I never...do it bare but fuck...I've never wanted it more."

"Y-You feel so good..." you whined, resting your hands against his chest for more leverage.

"That's it, good girl," he praised, pinching your nipple to make you cry out.

You could feel him throb inside you, obviously close. Your wetness coated his cock, dripping down his shaft to his balls. The fact you got so wet for him only turned him on more. He tightened his grip on you, urging you to quicken your pace.

You were more then happy to oblige, leaning down to pull him into yet another kiss as you rode him. Your thighs were burning, sore, but there was nothing in the world that could stop you in that moment.

"Gotta feel you cum around me," he panted, urging you to sit back up. You leaned back, putting your weight on his thighs.

"Please," you begged, biting your lip.

He watched the way your breasts bounced in time to your movements. He brought his thumb to his mouth, wetting the pad of it with a quick lick before pressing it against your little clit. Your eyes rolled back and he could feel you clench tighter around him, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.

"Cum on my cock, babygirl," he ground out, clenching his teeth to hold back his own orgasm, "Come on, do it for me, baby."

With a final, exuberant cry, you were cumming. Your walls spasmed and you trembled above him, nails digging into his thighs. He didn't mind, the sting only adding to the pleasure.

"Fuck, where can I cum?" he asked, voice tight was he forced himself to stop from blowing his load inside you.

"Inside, please, cum inside," you begged, resuming rolling your hips against him even though you were painfully sensitive from your own orgasm.

Namjoon let out a loud groan, "Fuck," as he came. His grip on your hips tightened as you felt the hot rush of his cum filling you up. It dripped from inside you, running down his shaft and making a mess but neither of you minded.

His hissed, "Stop, stop," until you stopped moving.

The two of you sat for several long minutes until you finally pulled off of him. His cum gushed out further but you only laid beside him, uncaring. He wrapped you up in his arms, and kissed the top of your head.

"I can't believe I did that..." he said, an almost gleeful chuckle escaping his lips.

"Y-You don't ever do it bare with...clients?" the word rolled awkwardly off your tongue.

He nodded, "It's not technically against policy but...it's urged. Some of the other guys order STD tests before a meeting so they can go bare but...I don't usually."

"Then why with me?" you asked, looking up at him through your lashes.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes analyzing your face, "I don't know. I think I'm addicted to you."

You were surprised by his words, eyes widening. He gave you a small smile and urged you to lay your head back down.

With his heartbeat pounding against his chest, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the 24 hours were up.

#bts smut #namjoon smut #rm smut #bts scenarios #namjoon scenarios #bts imagines #namjoon imagines #bts reactions #namjoon reactions #bts preferences #namjoon preferences #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon/reader

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

( SWEET MAGNOLIAS. )

He was your unlikely muse; you were the weird girl in the park. Could you make it any more obvious?

pairing. myg x named f!reader. s2l.

genre + rating. college!au. fluff, angst, smut. explicit.

tags / warnings. light cussing, yoongi being rightfully weirded out, a whole lotta softness, sadness if you squint at the right times, body painting, and then, of course, the most tender, dumbest lovemaking (unprotected but don’t be silly like them!). there’s also a really bad callback to the titanic. i’m not sorry. lol.

wc. 8.2k

You try not to stare for too long, sweeping your gaze in wide circles so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. You try not to let your eyes linger, follow the contours of his cheeks - soft, pronounced when he smiles - or the shape of his mouth - delicate, petal pink. You try not to make it weird - but it’s decidedly, very weird.

You just can’t help yourself.

He’s always here around this time, laid out on a worn red blanket. Sometimes, he reads. Books like The Alchemist and the Stranger and once, Dante’s Inferno. Other times, he pops a pair of headphones on - oversized, intimidatingly large over his ears - and closes his eyes. Most rare of all, is when he’s not alone, joined at the hip by at least one other boy and on occasion, an entire group of six.

They’re all interesting in their own ways.

There’s one with shoulders the size of boulders, a mountain range situated beneath his shirts. He has a weird laugh that sounds like windshield wipers and your mother’s spring cleaning routine. He yells a lot and even across the lawn, you can sometimes make out his voice.

There’s the tallest one, with kind eyes and dimples so deep you question if there’s treasure buried in them. He reads a lot, too. You’ve seen him in the library more times than you can count, always dutifully tucked away in a back corner surrounded by scattered looseleaf. Despite the course load he seems to have taken on, you’ve never seen him lose his cool. You have seen him lose his phone, though, and pencils and textbooks and AirPods.

There’s Hoseok, whose name you only know because he held your hair once at a fall sorority party. You hadn’t been drinking but somehow, somehow, your roommate had convinced you to apple bob with her. He’d been gracious enough to help you out, fisting your hair in a gentle grip. It’s what spurred you to now always have an elastic on your wrist.

There’s the dancer. He’s slight and even in stillness, far more graceful than you’ll ever be. He’s got pillowy lips and hair that gleams like silk. You’ve sketched him too, once or twice, but never more. It just didn’t feel right - as if you’d never be able to translate that sort of beauty onto paper.

There’s the one from your Art 340 Drawing II class. You’ve wondered, on more than one occasion, how come he isn’t the model. He’s got perfect proportions - defined jaw, strong nose, cheekbones carved from marble. It’s almost off-putting seeing him in person; it feels far more fitting for him to be displayed in a museum, with a plaque that reads Perfection, Mixed Media.

There’s the youngest one, Jungkook. They call him maknae despite the fact that he dwarfs nearly all of them. Maybe it’s just the clothes he wears: boots that look like they’d break your neck and everything in slightly darker shades of black. You run into him at least four times a week - trading greetings at the campus coffee shop and at the library. You’re practically best pals by college standards.

And then, of course, there’s him. Your muse. The one you can’t help but stare at - even when you’re trying your hardest not to. The one who wears glasses though you’re almost certain he doesn’t need them. The one whose smile is more gums than teeth, who looks unassuming and yet often breaks out into the strangest, most inspired dance moves you’ve ever seen. The one who plays recreational basketball on Tuesday nights and who drinks more coffee than you think should be humanly possible.

Min Yoongi.

You sketch him like you’ll never see him again, dragging charcoal strokes across paper until your hand is muddied and the curve of his ear is looking worse for wear. You repeat lines over and over, turning the mop of his hair into ringlets and waves, weaving dimension through the india ink that spills over his eyes. You sometimes add his glasses; you’re quite fond of the look on him.

You paint him sometimes, too, imagining how he’d look with periwinkle blue hair, or maybe dressed in shades of maroon. You swath him in textured fabrics and lovely watercolours, turning him into a fantasy that’ll never see the light of day. Pretty little daydreams with him fixed at the centre.

You fill your pages with his figure, the way he smiles when Hoseok does something silly or how he joins in when Jungkook laughs. You study every bit and piece, learning him in every admiring way you can - despite the fact that you don’t really know him at all.

It’s a staggering lesson in futility but one you take almost daily, armed with pencil and paper and not a single ounce of common sense.

That is, until you’ve done the stupidest thing imaginable.

No, not getting caught. Not in the traditional sense, at least. He hasn’t realised you sit on your bench - yes, your bench, with the sticky metal arm rest and illegible initials scratched into the back - and watch him almost every day. You thank your lucky stars for that.

What you’ve done is much worse - punishable by death by embarrassment.

You have no fucking clue where your sketchbook is.

You could’ve sworn you had it in your bag when you’d returned to your room last night. You can’t imagine you would’ve left it anywhere in the open, orphaning it on a campus full of idiots. You were always so careful. You don’t just lose things.

“I think it’s gone, girl.” You’ve never wanted to yell at your roommate more - not even when you’d caught her and her boyfriend banging in your bed after you’d come home early on the long weekend or when she’d eaten all of your Cherry Garcia ice cream. The desire bubbles about in your chest, fizzing angrily like an agitated soda bottle.

“It’s here somewhere.” The words grit between your teeth, insistent as can be.

“You’ve been looking for like, twenty minutes.”

“It’s here.”

“I really don’t think it is…” Jisoo doesn’t quite deserve how you explode, rounding on her with hands flying and eyes wild. “You’re also going to be late for your class.”

Your words falter with the verbalisation of hers.

Lucky for her; unlucky for you.

The hands of the clock above your desk wave at you mockingly. You are, indeed, going to be late for your class.

“Shit! Shit!” Everything you’d torn out gets shoved back into your tote bag. Band-Aids, mints, too many wayward pencils and pens. You almost forget your phone, attention only drawn to it when Jisoo catches the strap of your backpack and yanks you back.

“Don’t forget,” she hums, far more kindly than your harebrained self deserves.

You forget all the reasons you’re upset with her. “Thanks, Ji.” You force a kiss on her cheek before you’re darting out of your room and sprinting across campus to Art 340.

“Nice of you to join us, Miru.” It’s your professor greeting you as you run in fifteen minutes late, weaving through other students to find your seat near the far wall. Laughter follows you, coiling around your ankles and over your shoulders as you settle into your seat, fully hidden behind the oversized easel.

You can’t help the scarlet that paints your cheeks, creeping high across your temples. You know no one cares - that Professor Kinsella is probably the most laidback professor you’ve had in your four semesters - but it can’t be stopped. You’re already flustered from temporarily misplacing your sketchbook that everything else just feels like shit icing on your garbage cake.

“Sorry!” It squeaks out - a mouse, eaten up wholly by cat-ate-the-canary laughter that sounds over your shoulder and not very quietly.

“Having a bad day?”

You’ve heard the voice a handful of times so it shouldn’t shock you the way it does, nearly knocking the graphite from your hand.

“What?”

Kim Taehyung’s on the edge of his chair, one long leg stretched toward you, the other balanced across his knee. You’re not sure how that’s meant to be comfortable but he makes it look effortless. Then again, looking like him, living probably was effortlessly. You can’t deny you’re a little envious.

“Your face is all red. You’re out of breath. Feels like a bad day to me.”

You try not to dwell on the fact that, apparently, you look like an absolute mess. “No, I’m good.” It sounds fake even to your ears, tinny and wrought with anxiety.

“You sure?” He’s not really paying attention to you as he speaks, tracing the contours of the model across his canvas. He begins where you’d never think to, framing the main masses with a languid twist of his wrist. Unlike you, he doesn’t get caught up in the detail; he sees the bigger picture for all it is, building from the outside in.

You’re watching him for longer than you realise, whipping back around once it dawns on you. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Who knows.” There’s a playfulness in his tone that sets you on edge. You’ve never heard it before, all rounded vowels and molasses laughter. You mean to work as you listen, waiting for some indication of whatever lies just beneath the surface.

It’s a mistake. Your stick of charcoal snaps in half when he continues, low and slow as if he’s dragging it out.

“—maybe you lost a sketchbook?”

“Did you say…” You can’t finish the sentence. You feel like you’re about to be sick.

The amount of mischief in his expression should be illegal. It’s dancing in his eyes, curling wide and unabashed over his lips. It’s practically radiating off of him.

“So, bad day?”

He waits for you to pack up, hands tucked into the endless pockets of his black slacks. At any other time, in any other universe, you’d be giddy. Girls on campus would kill for even a second of Taehyung’s attention.

(It’s true - you’d heard a group of them talking about it one time.)

Here and now, you want to sink six feet under.

“They’re really good, you know.” As if the compliment will dull the mortification that threatens to cleave you in half. “You’re really good at capturing his boredom. That’s not easy.”

“Thanks.” You should make conversation; it’s the polite thing to do.

After all, he was kind enough to find and return your sketchbook. Better him than someone else, right? Better him than Yoongi himself? That’s what you tell yourself, at least.

Yoongi doesn’t know and therefore, it’s okay. Semi okay. Distantly related to the idea of okay.

As if he can read your mind, Taehyung speaks gently, with a hand that burns through the linen of your blouse. You know he means well but it sears white hot, eviscerating your nerve endings. “You have nothing to worry about. I didn’t tell him.”

You don’t answer him. There’s nothing to say - not really. You’re far too lost in your own thoughts to acknowledge the effort he’s making. Maybe this was life’s way of telling you to back off - to find another person to paint.

Or maybe it’s brought you two together, says the silly, naive angel on your shoulder.

You’re ready to flick her off - launch her like some kind of poor Tinkerbell - when your name catches your attention. It’s announced so dramatically that you double take, making sure you haven’t completely run through a picnic or accidentally slammed into someone.

“This is Miru.”

Cognisance comes slow and unhurried, even as your stare swivels wildly in search of context clues.

Laid out before you, right under that familiar magnolia tree, is one blanket, three bodies, and enough takeout to last you an entire week.

“Ohf, phey!” With cheeks stuffed full, it’s hard to make out the two syllables. They crowd against each other, offered in a garbled mess that has you regarding Jungkook with a mixture of concern and confusion. He’s swallowing thickly before he rises far too quickly; you watch a forgotten piece of kimbap go flying, lost to the dirt and bugs. “Sorry. Hi.”

“Do you want to join us?” It’s the angelic one, fitted with cherubic cheeks and a rounded Cupid’s bow. “I’m Jimin, by the way.” He pats the empty space beside him, eyes waning into crescents with the force of his friendliness.

Taehyung had asked if you wanted to grab dinner but you’d never imagined he meant this.

You’ve never been subtle but you try your damnedest to peek at him from your periphery. Unfortunately for you, he’s already sat down, fully made himself comfortable beside the last member of the group.

The one who, for all intents and purposes, appears as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. If looks could kill, you think.

“Don’t worry about him,” Jimin says, so sweetly, with a small bento lid held towards you. It’s already stacked with goodies - a selection of banchan and homemade-looking meatballs sitting alongside a poorly-shaped mound of rice. “Sometimes, he gets like this.”

You want to believe it. Really, you do, but by the way Yoongi’s mouth curls in distaste, all signs point to it being a matter of you rather than a mood.

“Maybe if she respected peoples’ privacy, I wouldn’t have an issue.”

It’s a single sentence quietly spoken and yet it feels like an open-palm slap to the face. Heat radiates over every visible inch, starkly coloured in contrast to the white of your top. It burns as it licks over your cheeks and past your temples, tipping your ears.

“I’m so sorry.” It isn’t clear who you’re apologizing to, the words tumbling wet off your tongue like a waterfall.

You’re gone before anyone can ask.

“That was a dick move.” Jungkook is the first to break the silence, levelling his friend with a disapproving stare. He’s not used to this side of him - the one that can tear a person apart with just a few words. It’s not the Yoongi he knows. It’s not really Yoongi at all.

“Yeah, hyung.” It’s thinner, but just as reproachful. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.”

Yoongi’s laugh is dismissive but he won’t meet anyone’s stare - a tell-tale sign that he’s just a little affected by their words - choosing instead to shovel bites of soondae into his mouth. “Mean what? Invading my privacy?”

“She’s an artist.” Taehyung doesn’t mean it as an excuse but by how Yoongi bristles, he’s certain the senior takes it as such. Before the argument can begin, he continues, all while wrapping a piece of samgyupsal in lettuce. “I doubt she meant any harm, so just cut her some slack.” Fringe is flicked away from his eyes, something sparkling in the pretty brown of his irises. “I’d actually be flattered, if I were you.”

“Then you be her model.”

You haven’t drawn in four days. Well, not really.

You’ve completed what you need for classes, filling your books with mandatory figures and notes on colour theory. You’ve diligently mapped out proportions and brought to life sunsets and sceneries. You’ve done everything you should be doing but nothing that you want to be.

It just doesn’t feel right. Not anymore.

“I hear he’s a really nice guy.” You can’t count how many times Jisoo has tried to cheer you up. From picking up your favourite ice cream (the one she tends to devour anyway) to ordering in fried chicken, she’s been the picture perfect roommate. It only makes you feel that much worse.

You were moping over something that was your fault. And she had to pick up the pieces! It seemed wildly unfair but when you’d told her to stop - insisted upon it with a wail into your pillow - she’d simply shook her head and wrapped you in her arms.

For all of your stupid, silly little rows, Kang Jisoo was the best roommate you’d had in your entire university career.

“Just go outside.” She’s perched on the edge of her bed, painting her toes a brilliant shade of neon green. She’d offered to do yours too, but you’ve more or less refused to leave the comfort of your burrito blanket for anything beyond classes or food. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I can try,” you mumble, words lost to the cotton of your sheets.

Try - and fail, it seemed. You’d already run into him twice. Twice! Even after you’d started taking absurdly long roundabout routes to your classes, the universe had conspired against you.

The first time he’d been walking out of the gym, shoulder to shoulder with another upperclassmen you didn’t recognize. You’d seen him coming from a mile away thanks to his obnoxiously bright Lakers jersey and you’d booked it back the way you’d come, nearly mowing down a couple making kissy faces at each other in front of the lecture hall.

The second time was yesterday afternoon. You’d thought he’d be in his usual spot - so close to your usual spot - that you’d gone to the coffee shop for a midday pick-me-up. Even embarrassed, you weren’t about to suffer a caffeine deficiency. You’d rounded the corner in the same instance he had and you’d sworn he’d seen you, recognition flickering across his face. Fortunately, there’d been a door directly to your right and you’d all but thrown yourself inside.

It was the first and hopefully last time you’d be in a men’s washroom.

“I thought you were tougher than this,” Jisoo hums, equal parts disapproval and kindness. She levels you with a stare - you can feel it burning into your fortress of blankets - and sighs. It’s a bit dramatic, you think.

“Tell me you wouldn’t be doing the exact same thing!”

Then again, she’d probably never be stupid enough to lose something so important nor would she fixate so heavily on one person. Your point still stands.

“Seriously, girl.”

Her nail polish bottle bounces off your bed, tumbling to the floor with a quiet thump. You look up in time to see her staring at you imploringly, so wide-eyed and innocent you can’t help but be a little suspicious. “What?”

“I wanted to have Andy over.”

It all falls into place then. Her boyfriend’s in a frat and your (poor) dorm room is the only place they have any sort of privacy. It makes you want to gag but you can’t blame her. You’ve always had an unspoken agreement; you’d just tossed it out the window the past few days.

Guilt prompts you to extract yourself from your duvet, though you don’t stop the chorus of gross, gross, gross! as you begin gathering your things. You almost leave your sketchbook, only opting to tuck it under your arm at the last minute.

“Please, please, don’t use my bed this time.”

“We love you!” She sing-songs as you tug your sneakers on and slip into the hallway.

You’re at a different bench across campus when you hear the voice. It comes from behind you and to your left, accusatory and sharp. You nearly jump out of your own skin, toppling over your water bottle and plastic paint palette. Orange watercolour soaks into the material on your thigh. Dammit.

“Are you following me?”

Min Yoongi stands not three feet from you, arms folded over his chest.

Your heart stutters at the sight of him. It’s hard to speak when it feels like it’s leapt into your throat.

“What?” You hate how you sound - a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You have nothing to be ashamed of. At least, not right now. You’d come all the way here, as far from the magnolia tree and red blanket as you could.

“I said—” His words are glacial and biting. It’s suddenly winter, far chillier than spring should be. You wish you’d brought a sweater or maybe, that the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You can’t be cold when you’re dead. “—are you following me?”

“Of course not!”

There’s nothing but disbelief in his expression. It paints itself in broad strokes, prominent in the shadows beneath his eyes and the curl of his mouth. He says nothing.

“Really. I’m not.” You’re insistent, apologetic. Every nerve ending is shot, going haywire beneath your skin and lighting you up in shades of red. The tips of your fingers are tingling. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You wonder if he’s baiting you now.

“For…” Words are cherry-picked and perfect, chosen with a shaking head and the utmost care. “I shouldn’t have drawn you without asking.”

“No shit,” he returns, completely deadpan. He’s really not making this any easier.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you continue, a little hopeful and a lot bashful. “I just— I don’t get inspiration like this that often. So I couldn’t let it go.” You don’t need to add what you do, but you do so anyway, because you’ve never been great at making good choices. “Your face is really unique and when you’re happy, it’s just so expressive and your smile is—”

There’s a siren blaring in your ears. A red alert going off so loudly you almost miss the way he laughs.

It’s not the same one he offers to his best friends - far more reserved, exceedingly softer - but it’s there and it’s real and you don’t think you’ll ever forget this moment.

“You’re laughing.”

He stops immediately. Fair.

“I’m sorry.” Again. More. Draped in apology and optimism that peeks out between your teeth and shines in the dark of your stare. “Even though I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I did, and for that I’m sorry. Really, really sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

It’s hard to read him, even after you’ve spent hours studying his face. There’s a distinct difference between seeing someone and knowing them, you realize. You might be able to map out every wrinkle of his eyes - replicate every dot and freckle - but you have no idea what it all means or how it comes together to create something more.

Silence fits between the two of you for what feels like a long time. It’s not uncomfortable, though, so you allow it to settle. You figure it’s better than his anger, in any case.

“You could’ve just asked me.”

You can’t wipe the disbelief from your face. “Would you have said yes?”

Yoongi shrugs, a small roll of his shoulders beneath the oversized sweater that dwarfs his frame. “Don’t know, but I would’ve appreciated it.”

Because that’s really what it came down to - the thought, not the action. He’s not entirely sure you understand that yet but he’s willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Blame his softening on the steady repetitions Taehyung and Jungkook have made the past few days. You were lucky to have them in your corner - even if that meant they’d been a thorn in his side.

“Then… can I sketch you?” You’re probably (read: definitely) pushing it. You can’t help it.

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or scoff at your audacity. He decides on the former, with a shake of his head that swings his bangs across his forehead and a small, private smile. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time?” You imagine he can’t hear you as he’s backing away and disappearing the way he came.

“See you tomorrow.”

True to his word, Yoongi lets you draw him the next time you see him (and the next time and the time after that).

It’s different - working off someone who knows they’re being studied. He holds himself a little more stiffly, a little more carefully. His laughter isn’t quite as loud, his smiles more forced. He apologises, even though he doesn’t need to.

Even his untrained eye can see how you struggle to bring life to a robot.

Over time, though, it comes - comfort.

Like the quietly burning coals that melt him down from the inside out, he begins to warm up to you. It comes slowly but it comes nonetheless, as steady as the sun. You appreciate his effort - his patience - more than you can ever say.

You know he gets it, though. He always does. It’s a Yoongi thing.

“You can relax.”

It’s just the two of you, swathed in sweat and waning light that casts shadows across his cheeks. The days are longer than they’ve ever been and the both of you tend to lose track of time, spending hours under that magnolia tree.

“I am relaxed,” he returns, sinking further onto his back, elbows hardly acting to prop him up. He’d been engrossed in a novel for the first half of the afternoon. Another book you’d never bothered to read outside of high school English class. You never really understood it - you much preferred to watch than read - but you loved when he’d recite the words to you, clear and bright and better than any melody.

“You’re trying to stay awake.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“No. You’re just as good of a model when you’re sleeping.”

The smile is lazy, hazy like Sunday morning. It reveals his gums and ticks higher on the left side. It makes your heart skip a beat.

“Go ahead then,” he continues. The entirety of his body sags, drops onto the bag he likes to use as a makeshift pillow. You don’t imagine it’s all that comfortable but he never complains.

“If you’re tired, we can just head in, you know.”

You always offer. He never says yes.

A part of you thinks he likes the attention. It’s different from what he receives from anyone else - thoughtful and careful. You think he might like the quiet, too. The benefit of quality time without any of the effort.

So you push on, charcoal edge meeting paper once more. “Just another twenty minutes.”

“Why me?”

The enquiry comes one day, completely out of the blue. It skips your heart and breaks the pastel in your fingers, dust chalking them a lovely shade of lilac.

“What?” You’re not ready for how close Yoongi is - much closer than he ever is - and you shift back, away from the face you’ve spent months filling your sketchbooks with. “Why you what?”

He’s completely nonchalant as he moves even closer.

You can smell his cologne - a distinctly masculine fragrance that’s musk and cedar - and the coffee he’s been nursing for the last hour. It fills your senses, recentring all of your focus so intensely that you don’t immediately recognise he’s continued speaking.

“Why’d you choose to draw me? Why not someone else?” He seems genuinely curious, even though it feels dangerous - a dangling string that’s meant to unravel you.

The answer doesn’t come easily, despite the fact it’s something you’ve asked yourself.

Why him? Why Min Yoongi?

“I don’t know,” you answer, perhaps too honestly. “I saw you and it sort of… just clicked.” How it sounds doesn’t escape you - like something plucked out of a bad romance novel. “I didn’t expect it to be you. I thought I’d draw you once - okay, twice - and then I’d move onto another subject. But I just… couldn’t?”

“So, what you’re telling me is it was love at first sight?” It’s glaringly obvious he’s teasing you. He’s got that grin of his, sly and feline as it creeps across his mouth.

You don’t bristle, instead painted bright red like the sunset that streaks across the sky.

“I— I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, you didn’t say otherwise.”

It’s an uncomfortable line of questioning. You’re not used to it and certainly not from him. You hesitate to speak, turning words over and over on your tongue in an effort to make yourself clear.

You’re not weird. You don’t want this to be weird. But you can’t deny - it’s, decidedly, still very weird.

He tries again - a different tactic this time. One that surprises you, despite the unique friendship you’ve forged over the past few months. “What if I told you I was glad?”

“Glad?” It feels like an echo chamber. Repetition. As if you’re going in circles, chasing a tail that remains just out of reach. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“What if I told you I’m happy we met?”

Your blink is owlish, fully caught off-guard. “I’d say the same thing. I’m happy we’re friends.”

Amusement rolls off him in waves, evidenced by the laugh that curls into the afternoon. He shimmies closer and closer until there’s barely three inches between you. His knee knocks against yours, bony and denim-clad. You try to ignore the way it burns through your own jeans, sparking heat all the way up to the tips of your ears and down into the soles of your feet.

“What if I told you I don’t want to be just friends anymore?”

It’s not a surprise, really. It’s something that’s been on your mind the past few weeks, sown by offhand comments and little gestures you haven’t been able to ignore. Jungkook had even practically shouted it at you just the other night.

“I’d say…” You trail off, lost somewhere among the constellations in his eyes.

“You’d say?” The words are parroted back at you, threaded together by gossamer thin hope.

“I’d say you’re welcome. For choosing you.” The confidence isn’t your own. It comes from him, crafted by the support he offers easily, hands out like keys. Keys to his heart, you realise belatedly, with a sudden bashfulness. Of course.

He can’t wipe the smile from his face. It eats up every inch, dominating even the playfulness that shines through, turning it the prettiest shade. It stands bright against his cheeks, staining the pale apples red. “That’s it?”

“What do you want me to say?”

You’re suddenly very determined - because you want to give this to him. Just as he’s given you everything you wanted, you want to do the same. In this little cut-out piece of paradise, there’s nothing quite as important.

The one word isn’t much but it feels like a turning point. “Yes.”

“You want me to say ‘yes’?”

He nods, just once. There’s so much certainty you can’t doubt him.

“Then yes—”

It doesn’t matter what you’ve just said yes to. It doesn’t even matter that it could be something awful or really, anything under the sun. All that matters is the feeling of his lips, soft and warm and dry on yours. It’s better than any painting you’ve ever seen, any song you’ve ever heard. It fills you wholly, stuttering your heart and bubbling giddiness in the pit of your stomach.

You probably sound a little silly, surprisingly breathless from such a little thing. “Wow.”

“Good things happen when you ask,” he states, solemnly. You’d take him more seriously if he weren’t so dopey, grinning at you like he never has before.

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

Luckily, you don’t mind. Not if it gets you another kiss.

You tell him as much and he happily obliges, stealing your breath and replacing it with sugar-coated stardust. You ponder whether you might be able to create with those same particles, turning them into colourful streaks to paint his cheeks. You’d like to find out.

You want a lot of things with Min Yoongi, you decide.

You don’t know how you ended up here.

Actually, that’s a lie. You do. All because of a dumb joke, uttered in passing by Taehyung and now ingrained so deeply in your psyche that you haven’t gone a single day without thinking about it.

“Get out of there,” he whispers right against your temple, lips following to soothe whatever’s got you preoccupied.

“Where?”

“Right there, idiot.” Fingers tap twice, a quick one-two against the side of your head.

You can’t help but grimace, a wrinkling of your nose that your boyfriend chuckles at, pressing kisses across the bridge and over your cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry - just come back to me.” To this moment, he means.

This strange little scene, with his fingers dressed in non-toxic paint and you stripped down to nothing but a flimsy cotton bra and thong.

Have him paint you like one of his French girls, Taehyung had said. It’ll be fun, he’d said.

You think it might be - if you weren’t bouncing with nerves, all five feet three inches of you fizzling with anticipation. Yoongi was only painting you. This was a bonding exercise. Something to bring you closer, to breach the gap between lovestruck artist and inspired musician. Nothing more.

“You’re beautiful, you know.” It’s not meant to be a reassurance but simply a passing comment, like looking at the sky or seeing it snow. So straightforward it makes you laugh, the sound bubbling about in your throat.

“Thanks, Yoongi.”

“No, seriously.” He levels you with a look. You know the one - a touch stern but ultimately playful. “I wanted to make something beautiful but…” Digits wiggle, Atlantic blue sweeping over the tips and up his knuckles like the sea. “I can’t really improve on something that’s already perfect.”

Your cheeks light on fire, as brilliantly coloured as the red in his - your - palette.

He thinks it looks pretty against his hands. The same ones that cradle your cheek, so precisely you want to remind him you’re a canvas and not clay.

“You’re silly.”

“ You’re silly,” he returns, as if that’ll somehow win him this battle of wits.

The roll of your eyes is undeniable. “Good one.”

“You know, I’ve got a ton of paint, right? Not your best choice, making fun of me.” He punctuates each word with passes of his fingers. Colour appears wherever he travels, dragged over your skin with dreamy twists of his wrist. A line here, a circle there. Goosebumps follow in their wake despite the fact that his touch is like candle wax - soothing and deliberate.

You wonder, idly, whether he can feel you burning up beneath him.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs again, almost to himself as he dips his fingers into another dot of paint. Pink this time - in the same shade as the magnolias outside. He spreads the colour over your chest, right where your heart beats an erratic rhythm.

He takes his time in admiring his handiwork, swirling the two shades together until it’s the most flattering shade of purple.

You try - and fail - to ignore the way it stirs something behind your ribs. A need that flickers to life without any sort of warning and has you pressing your thighs together.

“Can I take this off?” It comes abruptly, with eyes that snap up to yours. There’s already a hand tucked beneath the small of your back, right under your shoulders. He already knows your answer - can see it in the blown out pupils that reflect his entire world back at him. He still wants to hear it.

You’re unable to find your voice. It’s gone, stolen by the way he ghosts his fingers up and down the sensitive notches of your spine. You could get lost in this feeling, if he let you. You almost do, only nodding when he moves no further, flat of his palm a solid weight right against the clasp of your bra.

You don’t mind that the band is coloured pink and blue when he tosses it aside. You don’t have it in you to focus on anything but how he studies you now. Openly admires you, like you’re the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.

“What?” Mellifluous and adoring. Music to his ears.

“I think I’m getting distracted.”

“I think so, too.”

“Is that okay?” He speaks more to your boobs than you, single stained hand coming to rest across your ribs. The pad of his thumb swipes over a single bud, perked and already far too sensitive. He’d put his mouth on it, if not for the fact it’s now covered in paint.

Fortunately, there’s still so much of you - places he hasn’t explored but suddenly, desperately needs to.

From the column of your throat and all the way down to the valley of your breasts, he offers sweet kisses. Open-mouthed adoration that leaves you needy and breathless and writing. He catches your untouched nipple between his teeth, gently working it into the same state as its tinted twin.

You shift beneath him, unable to stop the bolt of electricity that rips through you like a thousand volts. It cracks your composure like lightning and sends your pulse racing like thunder. “Of course.”

He hums, content, and nearly falls, dropping his cheek fully against your chest. You’re so soft beneath him, velvet and pliant under his tongue.

“I think I love you.” It’s his voice but your words, spoken so faintly you almost miss it against the roaring in your ears.

“I think I love you, too.”

Yoongi stares up at you then, so full of wonder that you can’t help but look away. It’s an incredibly intimate moment - so much emotion carried in one simple look that you’re not quite sure how to process it. He’d been your inspiration and now you were his. The realisation is almost too much, filling you until you feel like you might float away.

His hands act as an anchor, keeping you here with him.

“You don’t have to say it back.” It’s careful, loaded with his heart and every key to open it.

“I know - I want to.”

He grins so breathlessly handsome that you can’t help but return it, rubied cheeks crystallised with delight. Those same paint-stained hands of his find their newly discovered favourite home of your chest and he sounds like sin when he speaks. “I want you.”

“You can have me.”

It’s all he needs before he’s ducking down and smothering every uncovered inch of you in sweetness. His mouth burns hot but he’s unbearably gentle, searing the shape of his mouth over your breasts and across your collarbone. He licks and sucks as he goes, soothing any ache left behind by the edge of his teeth.

You’re not quite sure where the bites end and the paint begins. It’s all so pretty you don’t mind either way.

But it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, you think, even as you whine airily, words stuttering out in a half-formed breath. “Please touch me.”

“Where?” He’s hardly given you room to answer, crowded so closely against you that you can feel his heartbeat all the way through to your own. He’s so warm - so solid - upon you that you almost want to tell him that here, just as he is, is perfect.

A momentary lapse in lust before rational judgment is clouded yet again.

Instead - and with more demand than you mean - you grind purposefully against him. A benefit to having him sitting how he is, knees hooked on either side of your hips. He can’t pretend like he doesn’t feel it, cock twitching beneath the constraints of his boxer-briefs.

Your eyes meet and he chuckles, nuzzling his head back into that spot between your neck and shoulder that has you whimpering. The sound alone drives him crazy.

“You’ll be the death of me.” Yoongi knows this like he knows the sky is blue or your smile is his favourite sight.

You’re teasing him when you catch his face, palms cradling the shape of his jaw. “Then it’ll be a good death.”

He doesn’t disagree - especially when he slips his clean hand along the length of your body. He tweaks your nipple on its descent, tickles the underside of your ribs, and then finds the band of your underwear, all in one fell swoop. A digit dips below the elastic, neatly clipped nail grazing the jut of your hip before shifting and dropping further.

You keen when the pad of his finger grazes your clit.

“Do that again.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. When he repeats the motion, the sound spills off your tongue without restraint.

He slips further down, pressing his hand to gently part your folds. Digits glide easily, coated in slick that drips between your legs and sorely tests his patience. Yoongi’s not sure what he’d expected but this is so much better it’s making his head spin - and he hasn’t even felt you yet.

“You’re so wet, love.” Shame would swallow you whole if not for the way he speaks with reverence. “How badly do you want this?”

“Don’t tease,” you huff, rutting uselessly against the fingers that tease your centre, barely slipping in before resuming a lazy, leisurely path back up to the bundle of nerves that throbs at the contact. He’s hardly touched you and you’re already at a six, entire body alight with need that thrums heavy in your veins.

“Just tell me.”

“I want this. I need this.” You hope he believes you. You’re not sure what you’ll do if he doesn’t. “I need to feel you - please.”

His entire world is spinning, kicked on its axis by the way your tone pitches, demands and begs in the same lilting voice he so adores but has never quite heard like this. He loves it. “I need to stretch you out. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You whine so prettily he almost cracks. It’s enough to have him choking on his own words, not that he’s saying anything. He’s too focused on how he sinks into you - a single digit but so tightly it feels like there’s no way he’ll survive his cock buried inside.

You’re a dream come true. He never wants to wake up.

“More. Please.” You’re so polite, he almost laughs. You’d really taken his words to heart - always asking for what you wanted now. He can’t deny how proud he is. It blossoms in his chest, juxtaposed greatly against the salaciousness that drives him to do exactly as you ask.

His index finger slips in alongside the other. You make that noise he loves, grinding your core against the flat of his palm as he curls his knuckles and seeks out that spot. He knows he’s struck gold when he taps it experimentally, pressure turning light but unrelenting when a choked cry ricochets off your tongue and onto his sweat-slicked shoulder.

“Right there?”

Your nod is enough of an answer.

He redoubles his efforts, fucking you with measured glides of his fingers and precise presses against your g-spot. In no time at all, you’re barely coherent, mumbling his name in a slew of breaths that has him grinning. You’re a sight to behold, moaning so obscenely you’d be ashamed you weren’t so preoccupied by the fact that every part of you feels as if it’s about to splinter.

“Miru— Princess—” Your clit aches and you nearly shriek when he applies pressure against it with the pad of his thumb, swiping your cum over it in slow circles. He wants you so badly - just as bad as you want him- but he’s torn halfway between watching you unravel by his hand and wanting that same euphoria when he’s buried home in your dripping pussy.

“Please, please, please.” There are tears in your eyes. You’re so close you can practically taste it, entire body shaking with the effort of keeping the coil from snapping. “Yoongi, please.”

He’s a fucking goner then, filling you with a third finger and grinding his palm against your clit as you come apart beneath him.

It starts in your toes, stealing feeling all the way up your calves and over your thighs. You’re only aware you’re trembling because it vibrates through Yoongi’s body, looped back to yours when he mouths across your shoulders, sucking memories into your heated, sweat-sweet skin. The stimulation is what keeps you from floating off on a cloud of bliss, the warmth in the pit of your stomach liquifying your bones.

“Are you tired?” Because you certainly look tired - too fucked out to properly meet his stare as he looms over you, both hands adjusted to rest comfortably over your hips.

You are, but it doesn't matter. You haven’t gotten what you wanted - not really - and you aren’t about to let it go without asking.

He’d taught you that.

You smile up at him, doe-eyed and alluring. A hand reaches for his, curls around the fingers still glossy with your slick, and squeezes. “I still need you.”

They’re words he’ll never tire of - also words that have him kicking out of his briefs and rolling your thong down your legs, all too eager. He’s painfully hard, leaking pre-cum and purple at the tip, but he fists himself in slow, measured pumps regardless. It’s a show for you, more than anything.

“ Please.” So pretty, so ready. He can’t resist.

Yoongi sinks against you, the head of his cock brushing through your folds as he slots himself into place with his paint-free hand. The other, still coloured garishly bright, brushes the curve of your lip, the delicate skin beneath your eye. It’s so tender you can’t help but blink, caught off-guard.

“I love you,” you say, though you’re sure he’s meant to, too. You can read it in his eyes - brilliant and bright like a beacon in the night.

He speaks with a roguish grin and a fluid press of his hips. “I know.”

You fit like two puzzle pieces, the stretch perfect as he sinks deeper, a low groan sounding from somewhere deep in his chest. You’re so tight around him but he glides in easily, coaxed to fill you by your wetness and the soft, whiny noises you make.

“Holy shit,” he manages once he’s buried as deep as he can go, head spinning with the way you clench around him, nearly stealing the words off his tongue. “Am I dreaming?”

Laughter is a salve - a catch-all remedy for anything that ails him. It pulls him to the here and now, drawing his attention from the overwhelming bliss that creeps up his spine and recentring it on you, beautiful and bashful beneath him.

“No, you’re not.” It’s a caricature of your voice but he doesn’t mind. He loves that he can bring you to this.

“Thank God.”

Except it’s not God you’re thanking when Yoongi begins to move against you, dragging his cock through your walls with such slow, measured strokes you think you might combust. It’s his name when he pulls almost fully out of you, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, before snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt. It’s his name that rolls off your tongue like a mantra, hoping and praying and begging for more as he consumes you wholly, in no half measures.

It’s him - Min Yoongi, your muse, your love - that has you crying out, pleasure coursing through your veins as he adjusts and fills you at a completely new angle, brushing against your g-spot with every thrust of his hips.

“Yoongi - please.” You’re chanting the two words again, turning them into a song he’ll never get out of his head, when you spasm around him. His eyes nearly roll back into his head, the sensation turning his rhythm sloppy as he chases the same high. The hand that had previously been propping him up falls, thumb seeking out your clit as he charges toward the precipice.

“One more, love. Once more for me, okay? I want you to come with me.”

He asks so nicely you can’t deny him - even as the overstimulation takes over. You’re shaking so badly you’re not sure how he keeps you in place; it’s a tremor that won’t stop, traipsing over every limb until you’re sobbing.

“I love you,” he chokes out as he tumbles over the edge, falling headlong into climax with you in tow. It’s so strong it feels like it blinds you, spotting your vision with white as he fills you with his cum and continues to fuck you through it, milking every last moment just like you were his slowly softening cock.

You don’t have it in you to answer, far too exhausted by the last orgasm that has your limbs turned to jelly. Yoongi doesn’t mind though; he likes the just-fucked afterglow and how you sink into his arms when he slips out of you and onto his side.

He eyes the cum that spills onto your thighs, pearlescent and going to waste. He has half a mind to push it back where it belongs.

He only doesn’t because of the words you speak next, hardly above a whisper but loud enough that he groans, burying his face into your hair. “So, thanks, Taehyung?”

“Can you not?” It’s a playful response, with teeth bared against the sweat-slicked nape of your neck.

“Sorry.” A beat. He wonders if you’ve fallen asleep suddenly. “I meant thanks, Titanic.”

author note. this was a drabble prompt i got from the lovely @hecticwonderer and i kind of just... ran with it. oops.

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snusbandxknifewife · 4 years

Note

Cardan, Jude and Oak go to whatch some movie. Cardan is really enjoying it so somehow one kid sees his tail and wants to catch it. (I am not sure how things works, if people can have "sight"or maybe he can accidentely forget to glamour it because it is usualy hidden under trousers...)

Ok so I think I did a good job working around the whole “mortals can’t see through glamours” thing. I did this as a HC, I think it’s super cute, I loved this idea lol. Hope you like!

~~~~~

Halloween Shenanigans

•Ok so it’s the day before Halloween

•A Friday night, to be specific

•And Oak has BEGGED Cardan and Jude to come to the mortal world with him to watch scary movies

•Jude finally gave in

•Only because she wanted to see Cardan amazed by “mortal magic”

•So the three of them load into Vivi’s car and Jude drives them to the local drive-in theater

•Where a special Halloween event is going on

•Everyone is in costumes, the drive-in is gonna be playing old black-and-white horror movies

•Jude is dressed as Dorothy

•(She has magic red ruby (yes, real ruby) shoes (gifted by Cardan) that glimmer brighter than normal gems)

•Oak is dressed as the Scarecrow

•(He did his own makeup and made his own costume, he’s very proud)

•(Vivi was supposed to be the Tin Man, but she decided to stay home with Heather (Hubba Hubba))

•Cardan

•Cardan with the lion’s tail

•Is dressed as the Cowardly Lion

•So he doesn’t have to hide his tail (score)

•So they show up at the drive-in and get their spot

•They set up their picnic blanket and set out Vivi’s old boom box, turning it to the correct station so they’ll be able to hear the movies

•The lineup: Frankenstein (1931), Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), and Night of the Living Dead (1968)

•Jude can’t fucking wait, she loves horror movies

•Cardan can’t fucking wait, he’s fascinated by mortal stuff

•(And Jude mentioned that it’s common for couples to cuddle out of fear when watching scary movies)

•(“H E L L Y E A H B A B E Y” -Cardan)

•Oak can’t fucking wait, the drive-in has the BEST popcorn A N D junior mints

•(He’d fucking die for junior mints)

•(Ok not actually, but he really likes them)

•So they’re all settled in, looking fucking adorable in their costumes, chillin with the food Jude’s bought

•They make it through Frankenstein with Jude only having to explain 90% of the movie, since Cardan misses it because he’s asking her questions about movie making, the movie industry, and the original Frankenstein book

•Jude finally promises to buy him the book

•(She also makes the mistake of talking about how Mary Shelley lost her virginity on her mother’s grave)

•(Cardan is partially grossed out, mostly fascinated, and DEFINITELY wagging his eyebrows at his wife (over the head of Oak, who never notices))

•In the intermission between the first and second movies, Oak notices a family sitting in the row in front of them

•It’s his classmate, Owen, and all of his family!

•(Owen is dressed as Scream, his costume has a hand pump that makes the mask bleed, he’s very proud)

•Oak watches the whole second movie with Owen and his family

•Leaving Jude and Cardan alone (Hubba Hubba)

•They make it through the second movie with Jude explaining exactly 0% of it

•Because God knows she wasn’t paying attention either

•The second intermission comes around

•Here comes Oak, Owen and Owen’s 4yo little brother (William)

•The kids completely miss the hickeys all over Jude and Cardan’s necks

•Oak wants them to stay with Jude and Cardan for the last movie

•(He’s trying time flex that his adults are cooler)

•(Owen and Will’s parents wouldn’t buy them snacks, Oak knee Jude and Cardan would set them tf up)

•”Juuuuuude, can we get more popcorn and candy?”

•Jude (still a little distracted, heyooo) “sure thing Acorn, go with Cardan”

•(That was her mistake, but, again, can we blame her? Sis wasn’t Thinking StraightTM)

•Cardan, being a good husband and uncle, stands up

•And the 4yo LOSES HIS MIND

•Because seeing an adult dressed in a lion costume is normal

•But when the lion costume includes a MOVING TAIL???

•H O L Y S H I T

•(Cardan had thought he was safe, he didn’t know mortals hadn’t figured out a way to make costume tails move like real ones)

•(So he’d been relaxing, moving his tail like usual)

•(Hence why Will saw it)

•”He’s got a tail!”

•It’s the only warning Cardan gets before the small child grabs a hold of his tail with both fists and PULLS

•Cardan fucking whimpers

•Jude sees red

•Oak has a brain

•”Don’t pull like that, Will, it’s part of his costume! It wouldn’t be nice to rip Uncle Cardan’s costume,” he scolds like a babysitter.

•Will lets go with one hand, but he keeps ahold with the other and throws his hands down, stomping one foot

•(Owen always says he’s a total spoiled brat)

•(The type of kid who forces your mom to make you let him open your birthday gifts with you on your birthday and then gets mad when he can’t keep them)

•”You need to let go of his tail. It’s very delicate and would be expensive to fix if you broke it,” Jude finally calms down enough to speak without punting the small child into next Tuesday

•(Cardan’s ready to cry at the idea of a broken tail)

•Will looks completely cowed

•(Because it’s one thing to get in trouble with an older kid, and a completely different thing to get in trouble with An AdultTM like Jude)

•He lets go of Cardan’s tail and his bottom lip starts quivering, tears begin to stream down his face and he sniffles

•Jude can’t find it in herself to feel sorry

•(Because how fucking DARE you hurt her husband)

•But Cardan,

•Cardan is fae

•And the fae have a different relationship with children

•To faeries, children are unbelievably precious, because they are so rare

•And so to see a child upset makes him uncomfortable

•Especially when he thinks it’s his fault

•So he crouches down by Will

•”Hey,” he says, and Will stops his sniffling

•Cardan lets his tail quirk up into the little boy’s line of sight, smiling as the child focuses on it once more

•”You can play with it if you’re very, very gentle,” he offers. “Just don’t pull or scratch. Like Mrs. Jude said, it’s very delicate.”

•So Will cautiously goes to reach for it

•And Cardan yanks it back just before he can grab ahold

•Will almost starts to cry again

•But he sees the smile on Cardan’s face and realizes it’s just a game

•So he grins and begins to chase around Cardan, reaching for his tail and celebrating when he catches it

•Before letting it go and beginning again

•Cardan takes the kids to the snack bar

•And buys entirely too much

•(While Will continues to try and catch his tail)

•They settle in to watch the third movie

•The older boys have essentially forgotten about the whole incident because a) zombies and b) food

•Cardan is completely ignoring the movie because he’s focusing on entertaining Will

•Will keeps playing with Cardan’s tail until he eventually gets bored and goes back to his parents

•Jude, who has finally gotten past her natural “kill everything that even breathes in the direction of my husband” instincts, spent the whole time watching Cardan out of the corner of her eye

•Watching how he grins

•How easily he plays with the little boy

•How well he calmed the child down

•How good he’ll be as a father

~~~~

Yeehaw have some Halloween fluff in July lmao 😂

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @sweetlyvillainous @clouds-and-peonies

#cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #tfota #judecardan #oak #HC #tfota hc #tyrannosaurus lex answers #tyrannosaurus lex writes #halloween shenanigans

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whumphoarder · 4 years

Text

¿Cómo se dice ‘I’m in Deep Sh*t’?

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances (and a bit of procrastination), Peter runs out of time to prepare for his Spanish presentation and ends up faking sick to buy himself some more.

He just wasn’t really counting on Tony being the one to pick him up from school.

Word count: 2,997

Genre: humor, fluff, whump

Link to read on Ao3

A/N: Based on a prompt from @coconutknightshade!

Apparently it takes a village to write a story lol—thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx, @sallyidss, @fandomsficsandfeels, & @seek-rest for beta-reading and ideas, and @lunannex for Spanish help!

“What if I just like… fake my death?” Peter suggests as he hands his mentor a different sized wrench. “They can’t mark me down for not doing it if I’m dead, right?”

Tony, who is currently bent over their latest project (replacing the timing belt in May’s car), snorts. “As someone who’s been officially presumed dead more than once, can’t say I recommend it. Way too much paperwork.”

Peter sighs. “Can we stage a kidnapping then?” he says hopefully. “Or an alien abduction?”

Tony rolls his eyes. “It’s a four-minute speech, not the end of the world—though I have some experience with that too.” He holds out a hand. “Half inch ratchet.”

“A four-minute speech in Spanish,” Peter emphasizes, passing him the requested tool. “Which is a language I don’t speak.”

“Hence why you’re in Spanish class,” Tony counters. “With all the other kids who can’t speak Spanish.”

“But it’s also like ten percent of my grade,” Peter goes on as his mentor loosens the timing belt and removes it from the engine before handing it to Peter to set aside. “And I have to talk about what I do in a typical week, and it’s not like I can say I go patrolling or come over to the compound, so I’m gonna have to make stuff up—”

Tony interrupts, “Yo veo mucha televisión,” he says sagely.

“—and then what if I get up there and forget everything and just sound stupid?” Peter continues his rant. He groans and passes Tony the replacement belt. “Maybe I should just conveniently get the flu on Wednesday.”

Looking up from the engine, Tony raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you really this stressed about it? Because if you need to focus on school, I could just finish this up myself.”

Peter sighs again and runs a hand through his hair—he hadn’t meant to complain this much, he’d just kind of gotten on a roll after Tony asked him how school was going. “No, no… I wanted to come over—really. And I’ve got three more days to work on it, it’s just like… ugh. I should have taken German instead.”

Tony huffs out a short laugh. “Pretty sure they have to speak in German class too.”

“Yeah but MJ’s not in German…” Peter mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” Tony asks, elbow deep in the engine block.

Peter expels a breath. “Nothing, it’s fine,” he says a bit more audibly, trying to convince himself as much as his mentor. So what if the most observant and shrewd person in his year also happens to be in his Spanish class?

(And so what if he might have a bit of a crush on her?)

Tony chuckles. “You’ll do great, kid,” he assures. “Just make sure you practice.”

Peter forces a smile. “Right, yeah, of course.”

Practicing, however, turns out to be easier said than done.

With finals fast approaching, it’s crunch time for all of Peter’s classes. Whatever spare moments he has over the weekend are spent finishing up his Animal Farm essay for the English summative and cramming for his geometry test Monday morning. The upcoming Spanish presentation hangs over his head, but it’s more annoying than anything else. He figures it should be fairly simple to actually bullshit something and translate it if he just sits down and does it (which, ironically, somehow makes it easier to push off).

He’s intending to work on it Monday evening, but a winter storm hits that afternoon, dumping eight inches of snow and ice on the city. Peter spends most of his patrol assisting with minor traffic accidents and helping stranded motorists scrape ice from their vehicles or shovel cars out of parking spaces. By the time he gets home late that night, he’s too exhausted to do much more than sit on the couch with May and drink cocoa while she watches Grey’s Anatomy reruns.

Oh well. He’s still got time.

Peter tries to make good use of his study hall on Tuesday, but the period ends up being kind of a wash. He spends half the time attempting to come up with something to say that is both interesting enough to make him seem not totally lame while still believable enough to fool MJ, and the other half messing around on his phone and trying to recall the name of the annoying song stuck in his head.

(It was ‘Goodbye’ by The Spice Girls.)

He’s intending to finish the presentation Tuesday evening after he gets home, but then Ned throws an unexpected monkey wrench into his plans just before the final bell rings.

“So I gotta be there early for warm ups, but my mom will pick you up around six, okay?” he tells Peter as they pack up their book bags.

Peter frowns, confused. “...Pick me up?”

Ned tilts his head. “Unless May can give you a ride after all? But I thought you said she was working tonight, right?”

All of a sudden it clicks—tonight is Ned’s first band concert. He’d taken up percussion a few months back in an effort to beef up his extracurriculars for his college applications. Peter agreed to go to the performance weeks ago.

“Oh right right right,” Peter quickly covers. “Six is great. I’ll see her then!”

Ned beams. “Awesome! My sister and her boyfriend are coming too, so we might go out to celebrate afterwards!”

“Yeah, awesome!” Peter agrees, forcing a grin. “That should be really fun.”

(Oh yeah, he’s screwed.)

The concert was cool. Ned hit that triangle with all the required enthusiasm whenever his parts came up, and Peter flashed him loads of encouraging thumbs-ups from the audience. When it was over, they all went out to Denny’s for some mediocre late-night pancakes and the usual Leeds family banter. All in all, a pretty fun night.

When Peter gets home a little after ten, he opens his Spanish doc in one tab and promptly falls into a YouTube hole in another while looking for background music. He’s still grinning when he closes out of his fifth vine compilation video in a row until he checks the time a second later and the grin dissolves. It’s 12:03 a.m.

Oops.

Study hall Wednesday morning will be his saving grace, he’s sure.

So, of course, a fight has to break out right outside of the library.

It’s not too bad—the two instigating students are hauled away by security with a couple bloody noses and black eyes, and a few other kids are taken down to the office for questioning. Peter was far enough removed from the action that he doesn’t have to come along, but the whole debacle eats up all but the last ten minutes of the period so when the bell finally rings, he’s got precisely five words written down:

Hola, me llamo Peter Parker.

(Suddenly all those jokes about faking his own death are starting to sound a lot more appealing.)

Or if not my death, he thinks as he trudges down the hall in the direction of his Spanish classroom, cold dread pooling in his gut, then at least…

He stops walking, glancing sideways into the brightly lit office just off the hall. The elderly nurse is sitting at her desk, glasses half-way down her nose as she reads a paperback novel with the picture of a Christmasy log cabin on the cover.

No. He can’t. He doesn’t lie.

...Unless…

No. May’s at work. She’d have to leave early to come and pick him up.

Okay, but it’s not like you do this often, his brain counters. Hell, you came to school with a concussion and two cracked ribs last month and didn’t say a word about it. May can take one for the team just this once.

Peter slips into the bathroom across the hall and waits there until the bell rings to signal the end of passing period, and then an additional five minutes on top of that to add some credibility to his act. He splashes a bit of cold water on his forehead and around his neck, and then works himself up with some heavy breathing before exiting the bathroom.

Folding his arms over his stomach, Peter moves shakily across the hall back toward the nurse’s office, making an effort to look as unwell as possible. A passing student eyes him suspiciously and gives him a wide berth, so he figures he must be doing something right.

Steeling himself with a shuddery breath, he steps into the office.

“Hall pass?” the nurse asks without looking up from her book.

“Um, no, I don’t have one, uh…” Peter’s heart is fluttering in his chest. “I just… I’m not feeling good.”

Eyes still on the page, the nurse silently taps a finger to a sign on the wall just behind her desk which reads: PASSES REQUIRED FOR ALL STUDENTS.

Peter swallows hard. C’mon, Parker—commit. “Right, but, uh, I came from the bathroom.” He hugs himself a little tighter and looks down. “My stomach really hurts. I was throwing up and, uh… stuff,” he concludes, deciding that in this case, less is more.

The nurse’s expression softens. She lowers her novel and gets to her feet with a small sigh. “Well, there is a bug going around,” she concedes, gesturing for him to sit down on the cot in the back of her office.

Peter keeps his responses vague when she requests more specific information on his symptoms, mostly offering shrugs or short, mumbled answers. She checks his temperature and seems slightly suspicious at his lack of fever, but he makes up for it by getting up suddenly and darting into the nurse’s bathroom.

When he emerges—exactly seven minutes and two new levels of Candy Crush later—Peter makes sure to keep his eyes averted from the nurse’s gaze and his movements slow and a little unsteady, one hand hovering over his stomach. She gives him a bottle of Gatorade and a couple of crackers and tells him to lie down until May comes to pick him up.

“I got ahold of her,” the nurse informs, sounding more sympathetic now. She slides a small garbage bin beside the cot. “She says she’s just finishing something up at work and then she’ll be right over.”

“Thank you,” Peter mutters tiredly. He doesn’t even have to act for that part—between the stress of his upcoming finals and his last couple of late nights, he really is exhausted and he has a bit of a headache. It makes him feel just the slightest bit better about pulling May away from her shift that there’s at least something physically wrong with him, even if it isn’t what he’s claiming.

Under the thin fleece blanket the nurse gives him, Peter manages to drift off to sleep.

But it turns out, today is just really not his day.

“No fever yet, but sometimes with these kinds of bugs that doesn’t come until later,” Peter overhears the nurse explaining in a low voice. He’s lying curled up on the cot, face toward the wall. “If that happens, just remember that he needs to be fever-free for 24 hours before returning to school.”

“Oh, I have a feeling that won’t be a problem,” a familiar voice that definitely does not belong to Aunt May replies.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s eyes snap open fully and he sits up in a hurry.

Tony and the nurse are standing together beside her desk, chatting quietly. Tony turns to look at Peter, face straight but eyebrows raised in amusement. “Oh would you look at that—he lives,” he remarks. “Feeling any better, Pete?”

Immediately, Peter wraps an arm around his stomach and does his best to look ill. “Uh, no, not really... but, um wh-what are you doing here?”

“The hospital is a little short-staffed today and your aunt was having trouble finding someone to cover her shift,” Tony explains, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “She called to ask if I minded picking you up. You know”—his eyes narrow—“since you’re so sick.”

(Peter gulps. He’s starting to wonder if maybe he’ll be sick after all.)

“So of course, I told her I would,” Tony goes on. “I mean, if you’re feeling this bad, we could hardly just leave you here...”

Peter has to force himself to meet Tony’s gaze. “Right. Um, thank you. That’s super nice of you.”

“Well, you know me, Tony Super-Nice Stark,” his mentor says with a small chuckle as he steps closer to the bed.

“Now, with stomach bugs, the biggest concern is going to be dehydration,” the nurse continues. “So you’re going to want to push fluids, especially if he’s having di—”

“Fluids, got it,” Peter cuts her off, feeling his cheeks heat up. He gets to his feet and starts moving toward the door, but Tony halts him by grabbing his arm.

“Hey, hey, slow down, kid,” Tony tuts at him. “You were just looking like you might pass out a minute ago.” He presses his palm to Peter’s forehead and glances over to the nurse, eyebrows pinched together in the semblance of concern. “He’s kinda flushed, right? Maybe we should check his temperature again.”

“It’s fine,” Peter mutters, barely managing to suppress an eye-roll. “I think I just need to go home and sleep.”

“Sleep is probably the best thing for him,” the nurse agrees, nodding. “But going back to dehydration, if at any point it’s been more than five hours since he’s last urinated—”

“Mr. Stark, c’mon…” Peter whines quietly, nudging the man toward the door.

Tony holds up a finger to shush him—there’s a twinkle in his eyes that’s honestly driving Peter mad. “Hang on, kiddo. This is all very important information. In fact”—he pulls out his phone and opens the notes app—“let me just write this down. So you said if he hasn’t peed in five hours…?”

The nurse goes on to happily share her wealth of knowledge regarding stomach viruses with his mentor. Tony nods along to her advice, looking genuinely interested the entire time, occasionally interrupting to ask pertinent questions. Meanwhile, Peter just stands there, quietly dying a little inside.

Finally, she concludes her little spiel and Tony thanks her politely, then asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have a bin or bag or something we could take with us, would you? I just got the car detailed recently—hate for that to go to waste.”

Peter lets out another low groan. “Mr. Stark…”

“Ah, I have just the thing!” the nurse says. She bustles over behind her desk and produces a plastic sand pail with assorted Paw Patrol characters on it. “I get these from the dollar store,” she informs. “They don’t look like they hold too much but you’d be surprised!”

Tony grins. “That’s perfect. Thank you so much, Alice.” Looking to Peter, he asks, “Need the bathroom before we leave?”

Rolling his eyes at his mentor, Peter takes the bucket from the nurse with a muttered “thanks” and strides directly out the door.

Tony doesn’t say anything for the entire walk to the car, but Peter’s mind is happy to fill the silence with dread and anxious thoughts as he imagines all the various ways his mentor might chew him out about this. Stupid Spanish presentation—he should have just winged it after all.

The moment that both he and Tony are seated in the vehicle and the car doors are shut behind them, Peter sets the bucket down on the floor and covers his face with a groan.

“Alright, let’s get it over with,” he mutters into his hands. “Lay it on me.”

“Just to clarify,” Tony begins, sounding a bit more serious. “You’re not actually sick, right? This was just to get out of your presentation?”

“Yeah, I dunno...” Peter admits, feeling defeated. “I was planning to work on it—I swear. Just, well, there was all this stuff due for my other classes, and then the snowstorm, and all these commitments just kept coming up, and I just kinda... ran out of time. Figured if I got sent home I could buy myself an extra day or two.” He sighs deeply, lowering his hands to look up at his mentor. “Are you gonna tell May?”

Tony huffs out a short laugh. “Honestly? I think you’ve suffered enough.”

Peter blinks at him, surprised. “Wait, seriously?”

“You listened to a school nurse describe the BRAT diet for three whole minutes,” Tony says with a snort. “I don’t think any lecture May or I could give would top that.”

“God,” Peter groans, running a hand over his face. “If I hear the word ‘binding’ used one more time…”

“But,” Tony says, holding up a stern finger as he starts the car. “As soon as we get back to your place, we’re finishing up that presentation in time for your miraculous recovery tomorrow, got it?”

“We?” Peter raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you even speak Spanish?”

Tony waves a hand dismissively. “I know French and Italian—close enough. More importantly, I am fluent in the language of bullshit, kid. I once convinced an entire board of investors that not adding a clock feature to the new Starkphone prototype was a philosophical statement about the ‘futility of time as a construct’ rather than an embarrassing oversight caused by deadline crunches, no sleep, and more caffeine flowing through my veins than red blood cells.”

“And how did that go?” Peter asks.

“Sold twelve thousand shares that day. And I got to meet the Dalai Lama.”

Peter just snorts.

“Oh, and there was this other time,” Tony goes on wryly, “when I helped my intern play hooky to get out of a school presentation by convincing the nurse he had the shits.”

Peter leans back against the seat with a heavy sigh. “I’m never doing this again, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles.

Link to all my fics

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#faking sick #sick peter parker #peter parker is a little shit #irondad fic irondad #sick at school #tony stark is a little shit #stomach bug #school nurse #the science in my fics be like

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dancing-deacon · 5 years

Text

In Only Seven Days

(Joe!John x Reader)

(A/N) I just want to say a huge shoutout to @rogertaylor-stole-my-heart ( @blissfully-queen )and for her writing challenge because it actually got my creative juices flowing once again! This is based off the Queen song by the same name so check it out! Also this took me forever I suck lol I wasn’t creative and was in a rut and all that. But enjoy!!

Warnings: NSFW, fluff, angst, toxic ex’s

Word Count: 4.3+k

Monday the start of my holiday

Freedom for just one week

Feels good to get away ooh

“It’s only a week, Laura, I just…need to get away,” You breathed out those heavy words, looking down at your sparkly white toenails peeking from your new strappy sandals.

“I know but, (Y/N) I’m worried. It’s only been six days. I mean, you were engaged for Christ sake. Are you sure leaving is right?” Your sisters voice pierced through the phone. Her growing concern for your actions growing with each remembrance of the past week. She had found you sobbing on the bedroom floor, the carpet drenched from your tears. The note in your hand crumpled to oblivion, she could barely make out the words scribbled in your fiancés early-morning handwriting when she pried it from your shaking fingers-

To my high-school sweetheart-

As long as we have been together, all we’ve done is grown apart. I need to find myself without you.

-Jonathon

Days following the discovery of the note Laura helped you move all your belongings into her flat. Going through yours and Jonathon’s shared apartment, laying down flat pictures from your engagement, Laura was cautious what to ask you to bring with, afraid of making you cry again. From the mere mention of his name or any nicknames you gave him broke you even more.

“I need this. I’ll be alright, I just can’t have any reminders of…” You couldn’t finish the sentence, a light ocean breeze moved through your open window, tickling your loose hairs against your neck. You tensed at the feeling, how your ex would tease your neck in the same place before you gave yourself to him. Choking back tears through a closed throat, you dropped the phone on the receiver and slammed the window shut, barely avoiding your fingertips.

The now stuffy room allowed your head to clear. Sliding into your new swimsuit, a high waist and stringy top you had tied tight to press together whatever cleavage you wanted to pretend you had. The plum- jewel tone accentuated your pale winter skin.

Crossed legged in front of the hotel’s floor length mirror you carefully makeover your face. Sure to hide the dark bags under your eyes from the tears shed the past six days, bring color to your cheeks, and restore the glow you once had that was stripped away.

Ruffling your hair as you stood up, you crack your ankles and shift your weight, accepting the view in front of you, as drained as you felt, you looked renewed on the outside. The corner of your mouth turned up lightly as you thought about how much Jonathon would have hated the way you looked at this moment, heavily made up, revealing a little too much skin to the world, and wearing a color he stated to be “not flattering to your skin tone, babe.”

Nodding to your yourself in the mirror for the message you wanted to send, you grabbed your sunglasses and bag stuffed with a bottle of tequila and headed out to forget all your troubles in Bali.

Tuesday I saw her down on the beach

I stood and watched a while

And she looked and smiled at me

John Deacon was tired. The demand of being a rock star came to be too much, early in the studio one day he scribbled a note, a note he didn’t think would change his life.

“I’ve gone to Bali.”

Twisting it between the strings of his bass, John rushed out the recording studio with his packed bag, careful to not be seen by the rest of the band. Grabbing a cab, he fled to the airport.

Avoiding the crowds, you perched at the end of the bar, face out towards the crowds and open ocean, the waves foaming up the beach every few seconds. You sipped your too strong drink from a tiny straw, head leaning into your hand trying to rub away the headache you were already gaining. You were miserable and alone, at least being around a people helped drag your thoughts away. Going back to your hotel was the last thing you wanted to do, you didn’t want to remember the past or be alone with your thoughts with no music to drown them out.

You really tried to mingle. But all the partiers are…kids to you. Four, five years too young for you at least. Losing count after two spilled drinks, four ass grabs, and five slurred pickup lines whispered in your ear, you had enough. You threw forty bucks down on the bar, and sat, tapping your empty glasses one after another.

Deaky wasn’t looking for a woman, he was looking for an escape from the drab routine of his everyday life. Minimal movements of his head occurred between gulps of his drink, far to the outer edge of the partygoers. Laid back in his chair his eyes flickered up, noticing the one person in the entirety of Bali who wasn’t looking for fun or for a hookup.

The girl on the edge of the bar, eyes hazed. Made up better than any other person on the beach, none of that could hide the look on your face and how you’re carrying a load of stories and pain. John watched you slide your fist off your cheek, head dangling off, showing clear as day how many drinks you’ve knocked back, to hinder whatever pain that was. He knew because he had experienced the same. A red blotch where your fist had pressed to your skin drew his gaze.

Your weight shifted in your seat, cracking your back from your poor posture. The cracks led to your neck, moving it to the right to get the last ache out, you see the man across the beach. His sweet eyes peeking at you, intrigued and awed by the drastic difference between you and the partiers.

You glanced away quickly, body following, not to stare at the slender man lounging, especially because he was wearing so little. A deep blue speedo. It made your stomach flutter with interest of what was underneath. For the first time in a week, you had your mind off Jonathon, you just didn’t realize it until later that night.

Downing the rest of your drink you peaked over your right shoulder back at the man, who’s now looking at the crowd, his fingers combing through his short brown locks, the silver rings tugging on loose strands. Your chin tilted back, your body wondering what it’d feel like to have those rings tugging at your locks, but not the same way, rougher.

The man glimpsed back to you, hand lowering to the edge of the deck chair. John scooted his butt backwards to sit up, his blue speedo catching on the wood and revealing a large sliver of his pale cheek. He yanked his hand up to pull the fabric back down, blushing lightly as he glanced back up just in time to see your sweet smile, followed by a playful lip bite. You couldn’t help but blush back at the man who was obviously just as out of place as you were, and not as comfortable in the current youthful party situation.

Reaching into your bag you pull out a tip for the bartender, ready to get up and speak to the mysterious man you’d been subtly flirting with. Smacking it down you launched up from your seat. The change from sitting made the number of drinks you had finally hit you. Spinning around, the crowd seemed to have grown, bodies clumping together, the flickering of the tiki torches, you lost where the man was. Reaching out to the bar, your stomach felt queasy, mouth growing warm, you knew you had to go back to the hotel before you, the older partier, made a fool of yourself. Staggering away from the beach, you didn’t know that the man was pushing through the sweaty bodies towards you, before he noticed you sprint clumsily away.

---

Wednesday I didn't see her

I hoped that she'd be back tomorrow

You could barely open your eyes, the tears you had cried since the early morning had made your face puffy and raw. The end of your hair between your head and the pillow stuck to your face, the fabric of the sheets drenched. You couldn’t tell if it was from your tears or from the night sweats from the dream.

You managed to peak through your swollen lids to see the time, barely 5 AM. Staring at the crack in the ceiling above your head you replayed your nightmare. Every detail, fresh.

The remembrance of youth when looking at Jonathon. The thrill of Friday night football games beneath the lights Looking over at his short blonde hair become tussled from the open window of his first car, driving country roads to nowhere, filing up empty time. Him taking you for the first of only a few times in your childhood home, walls still pink from when you were eight.

You were in your apartment together, the streaks of morning light streamed over your bed. Where his usual good morning face was pleasant, overjoyed to wake up next to his fiancé, that morning it hadn’t been. His face, stoic, staring up and away, not even noticing you blink awake. But the heaviness of your lids lured you back to sleep, just as he rotated to get up.

When you woke again, you were greeted by an eerie stillness. That was when you found the note, right next to your head.

Every step you took from the bed you shrunk shorter, barely reaching the doorknob Jonathon stood on the other side, tower over you, growing taller by the second. As he lifted his foot above your head, he repeated what the note said, “All we’ve done is grow apart.”

Then his foot came down.

Each night the dream repeated it was a little better than the last. You were slowly moving on. Last night, you didn’t think you were going to have it, it was only when he dozed off after waking up initially had you dreamt it. Your first dreams were filled with someone else…the man from the beach.

But between the pounding against your skull and the rolling thunder in the distance, you absolutely couldn’t find it in yourself to leave your bed.

John sat at the corner of the outdoor bar, the same seat your fine ass sat in the night before. He played with the condensation ring left behind from you glass. Fingering the drips into different directions, every so often a fat drop of rain leaking through the cabana roof adding to his art.

John counted those drops. One drop,

bloop, splash

Every 30 seconds.

bloop, splash

He counted three hundred seventy-four.

Bloop, splash

By the three hundred seventy-fifth, John had enough.

He wiped the water off the bar top with the sleeve of his jean jacket, standing up from the stool to stretch his legs. With the back facing the bar, he stared out at the beach, now empty compared to the night before. The heavy rain created deep pockets in the sand, a steam rising from the surface from the change in temperature.

No one had been on the beach for hours, since the first rolling of thunder in the distance. The storm got bad, quick, but John hoped you would be back.

All night only you were on his mind. Your smile left him speechless, but he didn’t even talk to you. It drove him completely mad.

Craning his neck around the beach one last time, he curled his lips in, accepting the defeat he may have lost his chance with the gorgeous girl at the bar he saw not twelve hours ago. The one he saw almost running from the bar, enveloped by the crowd, turning to dust.

John removed his sandals and scooped them up, making it easier for him to dash towards his hotel, to be alone with his thoughts of you, only hoping you would be back tomorrow.

---

And then on Thursday

My luck had changed

She stood there all alone

I went and asked her name

I never thought that this could happen to me

In only seven days

Waking up drenched from another nightmare, your vision a blur from the early sun peeking through the drapes.

You were tired. Tired of having your nights ruined by images of your ex. Tired of thinking you need approval from anyone. Tired of not having fun while single in Bali. And lastly, tired of not going up to the only man who caught your eye while on the beach.

“Fuck it,” you muttered to yourself, beelining towards your makeup. Covering the bags under your eyes you checked yourself out. Impressed by how you gave yourself the look of three extra hours of sleep.

You sat in your same spot at the bar. It was perfect for people watching on the beach, and you hoped the man would come find you again.

And he did.

Playing with your fingernails, chipping off the polish, you see a pair of long pale legs walk up out of the corner of your eye.

Glancing up, the orange sun illuminates his features, the man from the beach. His gorgeous jawline you can’t help but imagine trailing your lips along and green eyes you want to see begging for your body.

“May I buy you a drink, love?” A light smile spread across his face. You felt yourself slide your tongue across your bottom lip in response.

He shifted his face down to meet your eyes, not before taking a peek at your red lips too.

That accent was perfect. It was so uniquely him in a way you couldn’t describe, as if he had made it up himself. The sound of his voice hitting you made your knees weak.

Clearing your throat, you felt lightly embarrassed by your less cute accent. “I’d love to.” The man intertwined his fingers with yours as he led you to the end of the bar. You couldn’t help but to take a peek at his ass in a pair of colored jeans and it moved in front of you.

He pulled out the barstool for you, guiding you up to it before ordering two martinis.

Taking the full glass from the bartender, you lean into the man from the beach, your knees touching his. “Cheers.”

He raised his glass to yours, clinking them together with his cheeky grin that initially pulled you in from across the beach. “Cheers to you, um…” He shook his head, “I’m sorry I never asked your name.”

Swallowing the first sip quickly you respond, “(Y/N)”, followed by another swig of your drink.

“(Y/N),” he whispered back, as if your name was too good to be uttered by his lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my name is John.”

John.

You almost choke on your drink. Slamming it on the counter you rise from your seat, snatching your bag from the countertop.

Between coughs from your drink going down the wrong pipe you manage to speak out, “Hell no, I can’t do this.”

You scurried away, only looking back once at John, his head in his hands on the bar, a look of confusion and hurt spread out through his body language.

Of all people, in all the world. The one man who you felt something for after the breakup, was named John.

---

It would take a hundred or more

For memories to fade

I wish Friday would last for ever

I held her close to me

It took approximately ten minutes of being angry to start feeling horrible for what you did to John, as you found the man’s name to be.

It wasn’t fair, to him at least. He did nothing wrong, just have an unfortunate similarity to someone who broke your heart into a thousand pieces.

Ditching him on that beach when he looked so fondly at you, and how you had looked at him the same way.

Sitting in the corner chair of your hotel room you pressed your hands into your face you pray to yourself John didn’t leave the resort yet, and that you’d be able to find him.

Popping up from your chair, you grabbed the nearest pair of sandals and decided to spend the rest of the day searching for the John that deserved the best you.

After hours of walking around, the sun was kissing the water, blue and orange streaks trailed across the sky. Tiki torches already lit in preparation of the impending party. The beach was already scattered with people, drinks in hand.

Scanning the groups, you finally see him. His short brown hair fluffed and bobbing as he laughed at some tall model type girl’s joke. A small amount of jealousy grows in your stomach, combined with worry you’ve royally fucked up.

Pushing those feelings deep down, you swallow your pride, marching over to the cute brunette.

“John?” You asked, putting your hand on his shoulder, causing the three lean, tanned girls chatting to him to snarl at you.

John, recognizing your sweet voice turned his head towards you hand, a light smile forming across his lips. Just the fact you came back to see him the next day after last night was promising to him.

John moved his fingers up to yours, gingerly grabbing the tips and pressing them to his lips. The green of his eyes flickering, showing you his undivided attention. “Hello, (Y/N).”

A dark blush filled your cheeks at the sound of your name rolling of his accented tongue. Out of the corners of your vision you saw the girl group rolling their eyes, sauntering away to go bother another man for free drinks.

“I wanted to apologize, for last night,” you bit your lip shyly, removing your hands from John’s, embarrassed by how childish you acted. “You of all people didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“It’s alright, love.” John whispered above the crowd, his hot breath hitting your ear, sending a chill down your spine. “You want to tell me what I did wrong though? So I can avoid upsetting you in the future.” He gave a sweet wink at his comment, making your face turn bright red.

You pressed your hand against his chest, thumb rubbing delicate circles. “How about I make it up to your now, and tell you later?” Your voice is low, and you glanced up into John’s green eyes, a gentle smile on your face.

His fingers trailed up to your jaw line, tilting your face up towards his. “Sounds perfect, love.”

John leans in, gently pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, but eager. You wanted to explore them more and in a more private setting.

Your lips hovered over his, your breathing matches his as you manage to choke out, “John, come with me.”

The journey back to your hotel room is blurry, filled with eager touches, hungry kisses, and playful bites. Shaking as you turn your door key, your mind is filled with his name, John. This John.

Glad you were both wearing swimwear, a few string pulls and tugs later, your both naked, John hovering over you on the bed.

John swiped his first fingers over the tip of his tongue, red lips, stained from your gloss, parting slowly. You swallowed with a dry throat at the sight, mind racing at what those fingers were going to do next. Your eyes never broke from his, low and eager for all of you.

His wet fingers trail down from your bellybutton, every inch moved making your skin tremble beneath his touch. His fingertips reach your folds, already soaked beyond belief from the thought of him, the man from the beach you saw just two days ago, who you couldn’t get your mind off of.

Parting your lips, he swiped across your clit, you drew in a sharp breath at the tease, biting your lip shyly at how much of a mess you were for John already.

“You’re gorgeous,” John murmured as he moved his face lower down your body, trailing light kisses across your breasts and stomach. Stopping between your legs he glances up, seeing your head back, chest heaving. He flicks his tongue across your clit, circling the mound. Smiling as your hips buck up, begging for more.

Done with the teasing you pull him up from between your legs, rotating him off you, moving to straddle his body. Your hands roam over his hairy chest, sweat starting to bead. His shallow breaths in response to your dominance make you want him to plead for more.

Your legs straddled his waist, spreading apart further as you lowered closer to his throbbing member. His teeth dug into his lip, his insatiable eyes begging you to fuck him.

The tip of his cock is against your entrance but watching John’s face you love seeing him beg for your body. Your hands rest on his hips, holding him down and feeling him squirm in anticipation for you around him. “I need you right now, love…please.” The low growl of his voice shakes you, a heat growing deep in the pit of your stomach as you were drawn even closer to the man under you.

Lowering yourself more you gave him what he craved, your lips spreading around his tip. You take him in all at once, walls gripping his length. In unison a moan escaped from deep in your throat, a light smile creeping onto your face.

John’s hand wrapped around your wrist gently, your fingertips clutching onto his hips for dear life as you increased your speed, sliding up and down his length.

John pulled your wrists away from his hips to his hair. Sitting up he wrapped his arms around your back, tugging at the base of your hair to have access to your neck. He nips the skin at the base of your ear, followed by a sweet kiss. You moaned through your teeth, gently pulling his brown locks in response to his teasing.

“Mmm, John.” The whimpers from your mouth turned John on even more as he guides your hips up and down his cock, getting him close to the edge. His mouth sucks at your neck, creating a line of dark bruises.

You ride faster, the deep throbbing growing larger as your sweaty bodies crash together. Loud moans and grunts fill the air as you both release yourselves.

Finally riding off both your highs, you slide up from John, his hands guiding your hips towards the bed next to him, never loosing his grip from you.

Drifting off to sleep you moved your fingers slowly towards the center of the bed, where John’s hand laid. His hand sensing yours, he gently intertwined his fingers perfectly with yours, letting you know he was there for you.

You kept your eyes on the crack in the ceiling until your vision started to blur, eyelids drooping shut. That was your first of many nightmare-free sleeps. Your mind only filled with images of John Deacon.

---

I couldn't bear to leave her there

Saturday just twenty four hours

“So, when you told me your name, it ignited that…that anger and frustration towards him.” Your voice was low, calm. It surprised you how little sadness was in your words. There was almost none.

John played with your hair as he listened to you explain yourself. It was dark outside when you started your story, but early light creeped through the drapes.

Every so often you’d feel under your cheek John’s chest vibrate as he “mhm’d” and “yeah’d” to your story of the last eight years of your life. How much has changed since then, and how much had changed in the past seven days.

“I would never do that to you, love.” John’s only full comment after your story was finished, all the way up until when you met him on the beach.

“I know, John.” Was all you could say as he pressed his lips to your forehead. You couldn’t promise him the same.

Sniffling from the chilled air in the room you know you had succeeded. Your goal for this vacation was to get away, find yourself again, and move on from your heartbreak. John helped you do that, but that’s all he could help you with.

You enjoyed the lounging with him the entire day, playful tickles and butt smacked as you went up to get a drink. The casual conversation about your families and job, what music you listen to, what your guilty pleasures are at three in the morning.

But hinting in the back of your mind was the constant nagging of leaving Bali in less than 24 hours.

But you wished it would come faster. Going back to your normal life, a routine, and walking away from the man on the beach. You couldn’t admit to yourself you had used him, but you did to move on. And you feared if you spent more time with him, you’d realize how perfect he was for you. Sweet, kind, feisty, so similar to yourself. And that thought, the thought of being close to someone again…it scared you to death.

---

Oh no I'm going back home on Sunday

Ooh so sad alone

Waking up, John was eager to go with you to the airport as you had planned the moments before falling asleep in his arms the night before. The final kiss he would remember and cherish until the next time he saw you, and every time after that. But when he rolled over in bed, he was greeted with emptiness.

He sat up, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes to see all your suitcases to be gone.

You hadn’t said goodbye.

Then his eyes fell onto it. The note placed onto the pillow, sealed with a lipstick kiss.

John had tears in his eyes as he read, reread, and memorized your letter:

John,

I never thought that this could happen to me. In only seven days, you changed me and my outlook. You gave ‘John’ a new meaning. I’ll be so sad alone.

Tags: @hodgepodge-of-rog @sunnnymercury @rogertaylor-stole-my-heart @bowiequeen @queensilveryrog @queen-irl-af @rogerisinlovewithhiscar @browneyedfloozy @brinteylovesaliens

#borhap #bohemian rhapsody #joe mazzello #joe as john #john deacon #john deacon x reader #joe!john #joe!john x reader #queen #queen fic #in only seven days

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lavenderlattaes · 5 years

Text

pink sticky note. | kim taehyung

⇒ summary: maybe all you ever really needed to get through a tiring day was a pink sticky note, a janitor’s closet, and a certain boyfriend named Kim Taehyung.

⇒ [high school! au]

⇒ pairing: kim taehyung x reader

⇒ word count: 2.3k words

⇒ genre: fluff

⇒ warnings: the cliché making out in a janitor’s closet lmao

⇒ note: hello, this has been sitting in my docs for weeks now, i almost forgot about it lol. ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy! ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

You moved from room to room, checking in with the class Presidents, giving instructions and answering questions from the teachers with a tired smile on your face. The school’s biggest event — which was the school’s foundation anniversary — was set to happen in a week, and you were running around, getting things done before Friday rolled around.

It was currently 8:15 am on a Monday and while you would much rather want to be in class, listening to your teacher talk about the history of the Joseon Dynasty, you couldn’t. You were the student council President, and along with the rest of the student council, you were all completing your assigned tasks for the event.

“Hey, Y/N, I came to check on the banners at the gymnasium, and Mr. Jung just told me it isn’t set to arrive until Thursday.” Your Vice President, Park Jimin runs up to you, slightly out of breath, his pink hair flopping messily.

You sigh and open your clipboard that was clutched tightly in your left arm, running your index finger over the program. You click the top of your sign pen and scribble a few notes beside the stage setup design. You close the clipboard and look up at Jimin.

“That’s okay, we can stay until after school to work on it. Tell Jeongguk to gather his committee after classes on Thursday to set the stage up. I’ll go inform Jihyo to prepare the letter for it.” You inform Jimin, sending him a slightly tired but positive smile.

“Preferably around what time? Classes end at 3:30 for the seniors,” Jimin replies. “Then can we start working on it by 3:45? They can have a quick break then start on it until around 7, maybe?” You ask, and Jimin nods.

Jimin was your best friend before he was your Vice President so he sends one back and steps closer to you, wrapping you in a tight hug in the middle of the hallway.

“We can get through this, Y/N. Don’t stress out on it too much,” Jimin whispers, stroking your hair gently. You hum and rub your hands up and down his back comfortingly. You both needed that extra comfort.

“Thanks, Jimin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pulls away from the hug, holding you at arm’s length as he smirks.

“You’d probably still be single.” He winks and you laugh at him, bidding each other good bye before he dashes off in the opposite direction.

Immediately your thoughts drift off to your boyfriend as Jimin turns around the corner and disappears. You smile and head on over to your locker to get your journal where you wrote down all your important appointments and things to do.

On your way there, your Treasurer, Nayeon stops you.

“Y/N! I just came from the accounting office and they just told me they can’t release the funds today, we’ll have to wait until Tuesday afternoon,” Nayeon informs you, sighing.

You frown and run a hand through your hair. “But, why? I thought everything was already settled.”

“That’s what I thought too, but apparently they don’t hand out the funds on Mondays,” Nayeon rolls her eyes.

You sigh tiredly. “Sometimes, I really hate this school.” You groan and Nayeon just laughs, soon making you laugh along with her. As much as you want to thrash around, there’s nothing you can do since the school’s pretty firm when it comes to their conditions.

“So what will we do about this?” Nayeon asks, going back to business mode.

You purse your lips in thought before nodding. “We’ll just use whatever funds we have for now, we can have it reimbursed later on,” you answer and Nayeon nods.

She steps closer and gives you a hug. “I have to go make a few calls with the booths that’ll be setting up next week. I’ll see you around, Y/N!” Nayeon runs off again and you shout out a ‘bye!’ after her.

You turn around and continue your walk to your locker, immediately punching your code in tiredly. You sigh and get your journal out, when a bright pink sticky note catches your eye on the front cover.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion because you don’t remember putting it there the day before or earlier at all. You only usually did that when you have urgent matters to attend to and you’re in a rush that you don’t have time to open your journal.

A confused smile makes its way onto your face when you read the handwriting and realize it’s not yours. It’s your boyfriend’s.

hit me up when you’re free, i need to see ü. luv u babe(๑･̑◡･̑๑)

You giggle at the cute drawing, closing your locker shut. You take your phone out from the coat pocket of your uniform. You check the time and it’s only 8:30 am.

While you’d much rather go see your boyfriend, you still had to put the school over him right now. Taehyung can wait.

You check your clipboard and cross out the things you’ve already done. You still have a lot left to do. You take a quick glance at your phone lockscreen— it was a dorky pic of you and Taehyung when you first got together last year. Instantly, you’re filled with motivation and tell yourself to push through the entire day.

The hours fly by quickly and before you know it, it’s already around 3:30 pm. Most of your tasks for the day were done, and you only had an hour before school lets out.

You look down and see Taehyung’s sticky note still on the front cover of your journal. Scanning through your notes, you notice that you loaded yourself with too much tasks — some of it could’ve waited until tomorrow. Biting your lip, you decide to be a little bit selfish today.

You drop your stuff inside your locker and without a second thought — just so you don’t change your mind anymore, you take your phone out again and type out a message to Taehyung.

You: heeeey, I just finished my to-do list for today. Can we meet up? :3

Not long after you hit send, your phone beeps with Taehyung’s message.

my vantae♡: sure, im just developing a few more photos. im in the dark room :))

You: omw <3

my vantae♡: luv uuuuu

You: luv u too !

“You guys are so cheesy,” Jimin slings an arm around your shoulders and your throw your head back as you give him a side glance, glaring at him. Jimin pulls you with him and you start walking to the dark room.

“Oh shush, you’re the reason why we’re even together,” you jab his side with your finger and a laugh escapes from the adorable male beside you.

“So what are you lovebirds up to?” Jimin walks with you, looking over your shoulder to criticize your texts with Taehyung.

“I’m going to meet up with him in the dark room,” you lock your phone and put it back in your pocket as Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Dark room, eh?” You bump your hip with his, catching him off guard with the force and making him stumble to the side, momentarily bringing you along with him. You groan at your best friend’s antics and he just laughs at your reaction.

“He probably wants me to take a look at the photos for the event next week,” you reason and Jimin nods, a weird look on his to tell you that he’s clearly unconvinced.

“I know Taehyung, Y/N. But, okay sure. I’ll leave you guys to it. I have to go meet up with the hyungs. I need to confirm their setlist for next week,” Jimin tells you.

Jimin was talking about the legendary alumni of your school — Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon. They were fairly huge now with their music, and you wanted to invite them back for the anniversary.

“Okay, let me know how it goes.” You smile at your best friend and Jimin gives you a side hug.

“Say hi to Taehyung for me!” Jimin dashes off, again, and you shake your head, smiling.

You continue your trip to the dark room, looking down at your uniform as you tried to smooth out the creases that got all crumpled up with you running around all day. You fix your blouse and in the middle of tucking it in nicely, someone pulls you to the side.

Suddenly all you can see is darkness and —

“Taehyung?” Your eyes adjust to the dark room and you can faintly smell dust in the air, making you realize where you were: in the janitor’s closet.

How cliché.

“Hey, Y/N,” his deep, playful voice fills your ears and a smile creeps up your face.

“I missed you all day,” you lean into him and you take in his musky scent and the warmth of his body. Taehyung wraps his arms around you in a tight hug and all the stress and exhaustion from the day’s activities leave your body in an instant.

“Well, you were busy and I didn’t want to interrupt you and add to your stress,” Taehyung answers, kissing the top of your head.

Guilt washes over you and you pull away from the hug to look at him. Well, try to.

You cup his cheek and he immediately leans in to your touch, gazing at you with such an intensity you’re scared to look away.

“I’m sorry for being such a bad girlfriend lately. I’ve been neglecting you for the past two weeks now,” you apologize, rubbing his cheek with your thumb gently.

“It’s okay, Y/N. I understand.” Taehyung smiles at you and he leans in, kissing you softly.

You respond to the kiss beforing answering, “No, listen, Tae. I should’ve given you more attention, I should’ve—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, longer this time and with more force. You can never resist Taehyung’s kisses, and soon your arms are crawling up his chest, where they soon rest on his shoulders.

When you both pull away, you’re out of breath. You try to make out your boyfriend’s face in the dark room; even in this darkness, you can still trace the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curl of his eyelashes, and the oh, so perfect shape of his lips.

Without another word, Taehyung leans in again, knocking the wind out of your lungs when he presses his lips to yours in a needy kiss. Your hands come to connect behind the nape of his neck, loosely playing with the ends of his hair. Taehyung moves impossibly closer to you, pressing you against the door, trapping you with his arms on both sides of your head. His right leg pushes in between your legs so he can move closer.

Detaching his lips from yours, he makes his way down to your jaw, then to your neck where he presses feather-like kisses all over.

Your hands move up to his hair, and you soon feel Taehyung mark a spot just below your collarbone.

“Tae, people are gonna see,” you manage to let out, and he shakes his head, tickling your skin as he continues to kiss you. “It’s covered underneath your blouse and coat,” Taehyung murmurs and you can just sigh.

When he’s done, Taehyung goes back up and captures your lips in another kiss, nibbling your lower lip softly, asking for access. You give in, and your legs soon start to feel like jelly. Before your legs can give out underneath you, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The room is dark, but with you in Taehyung’s arms like that, it’s never been so vibrant.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathing heavily. Licking your bruised lips, you ask, “What was that for?”

Taehyung cups your face with both hands, stroking the apples of your cheeks gently as he gazed down at you.

“I just missed you, that’s all,” he replies simply, and you smile at him. He smiles back.

“I’m sorry for being so busy, I just wanted everything to be perfect for the event,” you apologize yet again and Taehyung shakes his head.

“I understand, love. There’s no need for you to explain. You shouldn’t even be in this closet with me right now, yeah? You should be out there, doing stuff for the event,” Taehyung remarks and this time, it’s your turn to shake your head.

You stand up on your toes and plant a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

“That can wait. Right now, I’m going to put the guy I love first.”

Taehyung giggles softly, kissing every spot on your face, making you smile. “Jimin’s going to tease you if he hears you.”

“He’s been teasing me since this morning,” you respond and Taehyung nuzzles his nose with yours.

“But I’m cool with it because if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be here with you,” you confess and Taehyung kisses you gently.

“I love you, my President.”

You give him a gentle smile and stepping away from you, Taehyung takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

“Come on. As much as I love being here in this closet with you, it’s starting to tickle my nose,” he admits, making you giggle.

“Oh yeah, why are we here? Weren’t you supposed to be printing out some photos in the dark room?” You ask and Taehyung laughs sheepishly.

“I was done an hour ago.”

You slap his shoulder and he laughs. “Tae! Jimin knew this was going to happen,” you mutter.

“Well, that just proves he knows me too well,” Taehyung responds and you shake your head fondly, smiling at him.

“Let’s go get some ice cream, yeah?” You rub his knuckles softly.

Taehyung’s boxy smile graces his features. “I’m fine with anything, as long as it’s with you.”

Taehyung opens the door and light fills your eyes when you both step out.

“You’re cheesy, Kim Taehyung.”

“I know.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

#bts one shot #bts imagine #bts scenario #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung #taehyung scenario #taehyung x reader #taehyung one shot #kim taehyung x reader #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #sfw #taehyung fluff #nise writes

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jusholdme · 6 years

Text

Neighbor I

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N

RATING: R (SMUT + FLUFF)

WORD COUNT: 5,305

REQUESTED: No

I might make another part to this if you guys like it! Also, I didn’t proof read it lol so sorry if there are any mistakes. - S

Neighbor Harry has an issue with Y/N’s music, and decides that he has to confront her about it.

Sunday, 3/3/18

“ Is it too late to say sorry? Cause I’m missing more than just your body.”

Y/N shouted singing along to Justin’s voice. It was a quiet Sunday, just a day before she had to go back to work. This meant that today was the day to relax. She had planned the entire day to literally do nothing, but chill in her pajamas. It was currently 6pm, and she had been pretty successful in her quest in achieve a relaxing day. She was currently laying down in her coach listening to whatever was playing on the radio.

“Half of my heart is in Havana, ooh-na-na.

He took me back to East Atlanta, na-na-na”

Y/N lived in an apartment complex in downtown Manhattan. It wasn’t much, but for a single lady in the city, it was enough. She had spent days trying to perfect it and now as she laid down in her coach, she realized that her quaint little apartment was everything she wanted it to be.

“ I deserve some wine.” She spoke to herself turning on her heel to walk towards the kitchen cupboard. Picking up a glass, she poured a reasonable amount of red wine. Y/N was a person who could really handle her alcohol, which is why she wasn’t really worried about the consequences that it might bring. Closing her eyes, she swizzled the addictive liquid around her cup listening to the music.

“And I hope I never see the day. That you move on and be happy without me.”

She sang along slowly raising the volume. Y/N swore that her hearing had been deteriorating by how loudly she played her music. However, tonight that was not a worry as she blasted her music trying to enjoy the alcohol that was slowly entering her system. She had found peace in herself as she moved her body with the beat of the song.

On the other side of the room, laid a not so peaceful individual. Harry. Harry had spent the last day partying with a friend who had just turned 24. He’d been bedridden all day with the desire to just sleep away his hangover. He however had no such luck, Harry tried to be open minded at first, but as the clock ticked towards 7pm, he couldn’t seem to stop the anger boiling inside him. All he wanted was a day of peace and quiet. At first he hated to be a burden, but enough was enough. He dragged himself outside of his neighbor’s door. They had spoken once or twice before, but nothing of length. He had thought she was pretty, but soon to his dismay found that she was actually in a relationship, or at least that’s how it seemed. Ever Friday a male with light brown hair with an extraordinary sense of style came knocking at her door. He seemed to always be carry some sort of gift whether it be a bottle of wine or just plain old take out. Harry had never spoken to him, but he’d seemed friendly enough to always smile in his direction. When reaching her door, Harry was surprised to hear the actual intensity of the music.

How could she be listening to music so loud?

Harry knocked on the wooden door twice before he heard any sort of movement inside. There was a sound of shuffling before she swung the door open. Dressed in just a white button down long sleeve shirt, she stared at Harry before handing him a $20.

She gave him a quick smile. “ You can keep the change.” She said.

“ What? No. I’m not here to deliver.” He chuckled at the seemingly confused girl. Her eyebrows creased before her eyes opened in realization.

“ Oh my, I’m so sorry!” She proclaimed raising one of her hands towards her mouth. “ You’re Harry! I’m sorry; I just called for some pizza.” She said sheepishly trying to cover her face in embarrassment. A part of her was dying. How could she had been so oblivious. Harry was like no other, his features one of a models, and the mere fact that she was speaking to him with just her pajamas, and fuzzy socks made her want to be swallowed by the earth.

Harry couldn’t help, but laugh at her mistake finding her to be quite adorable. “ It’s okay, it happens.” He said reassuring her.

She gave him a toothy smile. “ So what can I do for you?” Harry almost forgot what his intentions where for coming here.

“ Oh... yeah I just wanted to ask if yeh could lower the volume-“ Y/N quickly realized how inconsiderate she had been. She wasn’t use to living in an apartment, and for a while she had almost forgotten the thinness of the walls. “ Of course, I’m so sorry. “ she apologized feeling like she was making a spectacle of herself.

“ Yeh kno’ it’s not good to listen to music tha’ loud.” He teased.

—

Sunday, 3/10/18

“She can’t be serious?” Harry thought as he laid on his couch trying to watch a football game.

It had been exactly a week since he’d been there trying to get her to lower her music. It seemed as if she was having a party ever single Sunday. Harry was no stranger to loud music being a musician, or at least trying to start as one. However, he understood that at 9pm it was no time to be playing the latest track of his favorite artist. A part of him didn’t want to go ask her again, but he had an early morning at the bakery tomorrow. By his third knock, the door swung open. However, Y/N was not standing by the door, to Harry’s surprise it was the Friday boy.

“ Well, hello there.” The boy grinned leaning against the doorframe. “ What can I do for ya?”

Harry monumentally stunned by the confidence of this man in front of him. He was shirtless with just a pair of gold boxers. Harry could feel his face grow hot. “ I- uh I’m sorry is Y/N here? I was going to ask her if she could lower the volume of the music.”

“ Oh Y/N isn’t here, but I’ll turn it down for ya. Unlesssss.” He gave him a wink. “ Ya want to keep me company, then I’ll make sure it’s loud.”

Realization hit Harry like a truck, well, sorta. Was this guy hitting on him? Was he not Y/N’s boyfriend? Harry stood in front of the barely dressed overconfident man with an exasperated look right before there was an elevator ding.

“ Harry!” A voice called before both men averted their attention towards the girl running towards them. “ I’m sorry, I told Nick not to play the music so loud tonight.” She said. Her eyes shooting daggers at Nick before continuing, “ I knew you had to work at the bakery early tomorrow so I knew you’d be upset if there was music playing all night.”

Harry could feel his heart swell up at the fact that she had remembered his schedule. “ It’s fine, you guys can play music. Maybe a bit lower, so I can get some sleep though.”

“ Honestly, I would have played it even louder if I knew what a hottie Harry actually was.” Nick said unapologetically shrugging his shoulders.

“ Nick! Stop it you’re making him uncomfortable.” Y/N said chucking feeling her face heat up. “ I’m sorry, Harry. This is my annoying best friend, Nick.”

Harry could feel the corner of his lips rise. Best friend. A part of him knew the second he spoke to him that they weren’t dating, but a little reassurance never hurt anyone. “ Nice to meet yeh, Nick.” He extended his arm towards Nick.

“ My pleasure, handsome.” Nick spoke shaking Harry’s hand. “ You know as much as I want ya for myself, you should know that Y/N is single. When I say single, I mean like super single. “

“ Nicolas! Stop it!” Y/N shouted feeling embarrassed. Her hand swatting Nick’s shoulder. “ I hate you.”

—

Tuesday, 3/27/18

Harry had spent the past two weeks trying to figure out when would be the perfect time to ask Y/N to go out with him. After the situation with Nick, Y/N and him grew incredibly close. I mean it all really started in laundry room. They both seemed to love doing laundry at the same time every Tuesday night. It was a weekday night which meant that it was fairly empty, sometimes even completely empty for hours at an end. At first, Y/N was a bit shocked to see Harry down there with her since she’d been doing laundry for months always at the same time, but Harry swore it was just pure coincidence. Of course, Y/N didn’t mind having another person down there with here. Night time alone in a basement with only the sound of machines spinning can be quite scary.

Y/N had never been obsessive with her looks especially to just go do laundry. However as of lately, she cant help but try to look a bit nicer than her usual toothpaste stained t-shirt and pajama shorts. She’s been going for the: girl next door look. Her hair messy, but not messed up. The outfit was simple, but it also held a cute factor. She had just started to load her clothes into the machine when she heard footsteps walking down the metal staircase.

“ Always beat me to it, don’t yeh?” Harry chuckled as he saw her already pouring detergent down the machine.

“ You’re just too slow.” Y/N spoke turning around to look at him. He was wearing a ruffled flower pattern blouse with black jeans. His boots tapped on the wooden floor as he walked towards the machine next to her.

“ Not my fault tha’ the highlight of my Tuesday nigh’ isn’ doing laundry. Unlike some people.” He teased opening the worn out machine. They definitely needed to complain to the landlord for some new machines, especially with the new raise on the monthly rent.

Y/N glared at him, but couldn’t lie that she had been waiting all day for this, for them to talk. “ I have so much things to do.”

Closing the machine’s door. “ Oh really? Tell me all bout’ your day then?”

Y/N broke into a smile. “ Okay um I woke up early to go class. Then since I spilled some coffee on my shirt, I had to rush back home to change for work. Oh oh! The craziest thing happened, I found ten dollars when I stopped by the grocery store home! I was buying some cereal for breakfast tomorrow.”

“ So the highlight of your day was stopping to get cereal, and finding ten dollars?” He laughed at her childlike excitement.

“ Yes.” She said as if that was the most obvious thing ever. “ What was your highlight?”

“ Oh um I uh I finished my third song today.” He said feeling a bit silly to be sharing this with her. It wasn’t a big accomplishment especially if he wasn’t getting any recognition for it, but a part of him was extremely excited.

Y/N gave him a toothy grin. “ What? Omg that’s so good!” She exclaimed excitedly.

“ You’re album is going to be done so soon! What are you going to name it?”

Harry felt his a smile tug on his lips. No one ever cared enough to have a conversation about it with him. “ Don’ kno’ actually.” He said feeling embarrassed. “ It’s not going to be done anytime soon.”

“ Oh come on Harry!” She laughed. “ You’re so ambitious, you’ll be done in no time.” She seemed so sure of Harry, and that’s what makes him do what he did after. His hands gripped her waist pulling her body towards his. A gasp left her lips as he connected their lips together. She felt a tingle in her stomach as one of his arm placed itself on her hair while their lips molded together in an attempt to push their bodies impossibly closer.

“ I’m sorry.” Harry mumbled pulling away. “ I didn’t mean to just-“

“ It’s okay, Harry.” Y/N smiled connecting their lips briefly again. “ Been waiting for you to do something.”

Harry smiled feeling as if a weight has been pulled off his chest. “ Just wan’ to tell yeh I think yeh are amazing.” His hand wandered towards her lower back pulling her closer to his body. “ I wan’ to ask yeh out on a date. Maybe dinner? “ His eyes gleamed with excitement as they met hers. “ Jus’ wan’ to treat yeh like the princess yeh are.”

Y/N could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat. “ Of course, Harry. I would love to go out on a date with you.” A loud bang coming from the washer ruined their moment, but it was still perfect for Harry.

—

Monday, 4/23/18

“ His birthday is in a couple of days, and I still have no idea what to get Nick!” Y/N groan feeling defeated.

“ I’m sure whatever yeh get him, he’ll love.” Harry said turning around to give his girlfriend a kiss on her forehead. “ Yeh kno’ he gets excited over everything.”

“ I know, but I want to give him something as special as what he gave me last year.” She whined turning over to face Harry. “ He got me an album with yearly momentum’s of our friendship, and a bracelet with our initials!”

Harry’s pointer finger, and thumb went under her chin making her look up at him. Her pouted lip tempting Harry as he looked down at her with a smile. “ Princess, yeh kno’ him better than anyone else. I’m sure you’ll get him something amazing.” Harry’s words make her feel more comfort than she’d dare to admit. They’ve only been dating for a few weeks, but if they’re honest, they haven’t been a part a single day, that’s the perk of dating your neighbor. “ Now come on, yeh promised me we’d watch rom coms all day.”

When Harry had said he loved rom coms, Y/N might have underestimated the actual intensity of his love for the genre. They had just finished watching their third rom com when she felt Harry pull her closer to him. Her head gently laying down on his chest.

“ Your hair is tickling me.” She giggled.

“ Is it?” He smiled moving his head so his curls would rub against her face a bit more.

“ How about now?”

“ Take your greasy hair away from me!” She playfully shouted pushing him away.

Harry’s lips formed into a playful pout as he moved his hand over his chest. “ Ouch, thought yeh liked my curls.”

“ Oh Of course, I do.” Her hand delicately reaching to push back the one strand that had fallen to the front of his face. “ Makes you so much more handsome.”

Harry smirked. “ Oh yeah? Yeh think m’ handsome?”

She shyly nodded her head. “ Yeah, you’re like a model with great hair.” Why he wasn’t one really baffled Y/N.

“ A model?” He laughed showing his pearly whites. “ Think yeh are the one who is the model here.”

Y/N shook her head. “ Don’t agree.”

“ Then I think yeh might need to get your eyes checked.” Harry’s hand reached towards her waist pulling her up for a kiss.

“ My beautiful girl.” She turned her face to the side, feeling embarrassed. “ Don’ look away from me, petal. M’ tryin’ to look at your pretty face.”

“ Stop, Harry. You’re making me blush.” Y/N squirmed trying to get away from him, but Harry’s hands just tightened around her more.

“ I can’ look at my girlfriend?” He placed his forehead against hers. “ Don’t think tha’ is reasonable.” His lips attaching themselves to hers again. Harry could feel her body become less tense as he slowly moved his hand towards her lower back.

“ M’ lucky.” He mumbled against her lips. His thumb making patterns on the exposed skin on her lower back. Y/N no longer wanted to get away from him, but move as close as possible. His soft lips made her weak on the knees and she found herself craving them everywhere. Their bodies moved in rhythm as their tongues battled against each other. “ Pretty girl.” He whispered pulling away. Her lips red and puffy brought joy to Harry. Y/N’s fingers grazed the side of his face finding his perfectness to be unreal. How did someone so beautiful be single for so long

She playfully ran the edge of her index finger across the skin of his jaw before wincing. Blowing on the skin of her finger. “ Ouch, you got a sharp jaw.”

Harry’s eyes crinkled a lil by the smile that etched on its face. “ All yours.” His lips quickly peaking hers before they moved towards her neck. “ Yeh smell familiar.” He mumbled placing butterfly like kisses against her skin. He finds the perfect spot to settle himself on in the crook of her neck. His hair still tickling her, but she had no intentions of pulling him away.

“ Took your body wash.” She giggled. “ Got it when I came over the other day.” Her voice a mere whimper when she felt his teeth graze against the skin of her neck.

“ I was lookin’ fo’ it.” He groans. “ Thought I lost it.” He went back to her neck.

“ Well you did lose it. I’m not giving it back.” Yelping, she squinted her eyes towards Harry. “ Don’t bite me, you vampire!”

“ I mean, I had to do something. Can’ be nice to a thief.” He said, smiling against the crook of her neck. His fingers smoothing the sensitive skin.

“ But I’m a thief you like, that’s different.” She smiled. “ I get special treatment. Get to take your hoodies and maybe steal a few of those rings you always have on.” She winked. She moves her hand towards his broad ones. Their fingers encase each other as she brings his hand up until they are inline with her eyesight. “ I like the rose one.” She admires.

Harry’s looking with her now. He notices how her fingers run across every crevice of his rings. “ I like it too.” He said. His thumb goes under his finger sliding the ring off. “ Since m’ so nice. I’ll let yeh try it on.”

Y/N turned her head towards him feeling a sudden sense of happiness. “ Wow I must be a good thief.” She teases feeling him place the cold metal on her hand. Harry’s fingers move to grab it once he registers her words, but Y/N is faster. Her palm clenches against the metal, “ Ah, not so fast!” She laughs pulling her palm towards her chest. “ It’s mine now.” She grins only opening it slightly in a teasingly manor to peak at it. Smiling, Harry grabs her hand quickly. With his strength, he pries open her delicate fingers. His index finger quickly picking it up.

“ Ah shouldn’t have done that, petal.” He tuts pulling it away from her. “ Yeh have to be nice.”

“ I am nice! I was just kidding.” Y/N pouts crossing her arms over her chest. Harry couldn’t help but smile at her flustered face.

“ Spoiled tha’ is what you are.” His voice taking a teasing tone. “ Don’ kno’ if yeh deserve any more of my stuff.”

“ Woah slow down, cowboy.” She folded her legs beneath her butt. Her hand reaching towards his chest. “ I think you need to think about that a little more.”

“ No, I think I’m good.” He grins showing off his bulky front teeth. “ Don’t think yeh been a good girl.” His voice condescending, but the smile on his lips contradicting everything.

“ What? I’ve been very good!” She gasps.

“ Baked you cookies the other day didn’t I?”

“ Petal, those cookies where from the bakery down stairs.” He chuckled putting the ring back on his finger. Her eyes followed the metal down with an opened mouth.

“ What? I’ve been very good!” She gasps.

“ Baked you cookies the other day didn’t I?”

“ Petal, those cookies where from the bakery down stairs.” He chuckles putting the ring back on his finger. Her eyes followed the metal down with an opened mouth.

“ Well, this princess wants to try on your ring.”

“ Wan’ to that bad? Fine.”

She turned towards him so quick, her body almost fell on him earning her a giggle from Harry. “ Be careful.”

“ Give me.” Her hands reached towards his before he pulled his away.

“ Well, this princess wants to try on your ring.”

“ Wan’ to that bad? Fine.”

She turned towards him so quick, her body almost fell on him earning her a giggle from Harry. “ Be careful.”

“ Give me.” Her hands reached towards his before he pulled his away.

His hand gently placed itself on her right cheek. “ Yeh are so pretty.” He muttered more to himself than her. His thumb plucked her bottom lip before slowly pulling it open. “ If yeh wan’ it. Yeh are goin’ to have to take it with your mouth.” He whispered steadily etching his index finger in her hot mouth.

Y/N felt her face heat up. His thick finger felt heavy against her tongue. She has never done this or anything near it; but Harry looked so into it, she knew she couldn’t disappoint him. Her lips wrapped around his finger letting her tongue run through it. Harry groaned watching her eyebrows furrow in concentration as she tried to move the metal with her tongue.

“ Doin’ a proper good job, princess.” He whispers catching his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight of her. Her puffed out cheeks, and widen eyes made him weak on the knees. Her eyes gleamed with victory as she finally got the ring to move. Harry swears that his breath got caught on his throat the second she started to suck on his finger. The ring itching closer to the tip of his finger by the second. With a pop, the ring was in her mouth.

“ Did it!” Y/N gleamed taking the ring off her tongue. Harry couldn’t help but stare as she wiped the ring against the coach cushions.

“ For fucks sake.” He mumbled wrapping his arm around her body. “ Tha’ was hot.” He breathed.

“ Just did it for the ring.” She said sheepishly looking down at the ring. Y/N wasn’t use to that sort of attention, especially not from someone as hot as Harry.

“ Try it on then.” He insisted. “ Yeh earned it.”

Glancing up at him through her eyelashes, she lets out a giggle before sliding the ring into her middle finger. “ It’s pretty, but its not as pretty as you though.” she lets out earning her a hearty laugh from Harry.

“ Oy I’m the funny one in this relationship.” He teases. “ Can’t be taking me job.” She can’t help, but laugh along with him even though he was technically insulting her. His smile was contagious.

—

Tuesday, 4/15/18

Harry and Y/N had spent the entire day baking, or at least trying to. Her apartment was filled with uncleaned bowls of cookie dough, and half eaten containers of frosting.

“ You need to clean up faster.” Y/N looks around the room. “ Made a mess.”

Harry was currently trying to get the cookies that were stuck on the baking tray off as Y/N sat across from him on the kitchen island.

“ Would finish faster if yeh helped.” He quipped turning around to look at how she sat eating the only few savable cookies. “ Don’t think its fair ‘m the only one cleaning’.”

Y/N gasped looking down at her lap. “ I- I’m so offended!” She exclaimed. “ Don’t you think I’m cleaning? This plate isn’t going to clear itself out is it?” Her witty remark has her doubling over in laughter. Harry just shook his head finally giving up on the baking tray.

“ That wasn’t even that funny, love.” He chuckles watching as she throws her head back in laughter.

“ What happened to your sense of humor?” She jokes tilting her to the side as she she’s him walk towards her. “ Use to be so funny.”

“ I think I still got it actually.” He smirks leaning g closer. “ Just like this.” Before Y/N could figure out what he meant, harry’s finger spread frosting on her cheek.

“ Oh God!” Y/N shouts stunned laughing at his childish behavior. “Unbelievable.” She shakes her head at his grinning smile. “ Now, I have to leave you to take a shower.”

However, Harry had other plans. His hand was quick to place itself on her knees stopping all her movements. “ Nonsense.” He muttered. “ I can clean yeh up.” His hand pushed her thighs a part before moving to stand between them. His right hand goes to cup her cheek as his thumb slowly wipes the frosting off. “ See good as new.” He smiles bringing his thumb towards his own mouth. Y/N watched as Harry sucked the frosting off his finger. The atmosphere suddenly not so playful. He was still standing between her thighs, and Y/N couldn’t help ;but feel tingles run through her body.

“ Sweet.” His face leaning down against hers until they were face to face. His hands going behind her waist, and pulling her to the edge of the counter. Their crotch just inches a part. Closing his eyes, he blows air out feeling overwhelmed. “ Yeh drive me crazy.”

Y/N felt herself grow with nervousness. Her lips red from her constant biting. The hands on her knees drew patterns on her skin. It had been so long since she’s had any sort of contact that this simple act sent shivers down her body. “ Could say the same thing about you.” Her voice a mere whisper as his hand slowly moves higher towards her hip. Never breaking eye contact, Harry watches her carefully making sure he has her permission.

“ Wan’ to make yeh feel good.” His voice is soft, but eyes determine. “ You’ll let me right? Let me give yeh what yeh deserve?”

As much as Y/N didn’t want to admit it, she was swoon by him. She didn’t want to be with anyone else. “ You can’t say stuff like that.” she whimpers feeling herself heat up.

“ What am I saying?”he chuckles finding her amusing. “ Jus’ tryin’ to love on yeh.”

“ Harry.” Her voice stern, but her body falling a part when his lips touched her neck. His soft lips leaving soft kisses against her jaw. “ Harry.” She mumbled warning him; but Harry doesn’t understand , or chooses not to.

“ God - need to kno’ if yeh wan’ me to do something.” he groans, tongue licking a stripe on her throat. Y/N’s eyes fell closed as her hands wrapped themselves on his hair pushing him closer. “ Need to know’ if yeh wan’ me lickin’ between your thighs. Make yeh drip down me chin.”

Y/N’s legs subconsciously open wider letting Harry’s move even closer to her. “ H-Harry.” She whines pulling on his locks. “ Please.” She doesn’t know what exactly she’s asking for, but she knows she needs him to do something.

“ Hm? What is it, love?” His eyes locks with hers before running his thumb over her lips. “ Need somethin’?’” His voice taking a teasing edge as he tilts his head to the side.

“ You know what I want.” She groans, hands reaching down to the hem of her shirt. “ Too much clothes.” She mumbles pulling the thin fabric over her head. She’s never been so straight forward; but Harry has her feeling all hot, and bothered. Her black bra was noting special, quite the opposite if Y/N is honest. But Harry doesn’t seem to care as his eyes fall on how her boobs sit prettily on her bra.

“ Fuck.” He grunts, hands going straight to her breast. “ Wan’ me to play with these? Yeah?’ He kneads them in his palm, rolling his index and thumb over her nipples.

Reaching over, she grabbed his face planting their lips together. “ Please.” Her voice coming out as a mumble. “ Need -“

“ Need me?” He fingers moving towards her hips. “ Need me to make yeh feel good?” his fingers slipping into the elastic of her shorts, and panties. Y/N’s head nodded vigorously trying to contain her excitement. Chuckling, Harry slowly pulled them off till they fell off her ankle.

“Gonna make yeh tremble.” He promises, lips kissing her body. His hands holding her thighs a part as he sinks down to his knees. Y/N watched him with hooded eyes as she sees him run a finger through her folds. “ Wet, already?” His eyes admiring her as he watches her suppress a moan nodding. “ Can’t wait to get my tongue inside yeh.” He growls, lips leaving wet kisses on her inner thighs. “ Got a pretty cunt.” He speaks against her opening.

“ Stop teasing please.” She whimpers, hips trying to grind against his face, but his hand held her down.

“ Since yeh asked so nicely.” Harry didn’t waste anytime before pressing his nose against her mound. His warm tongue licking a wide stripe against her folds.

“ Oh God.” She moans, feeling him suck on her.

“ Harry.” head lulling backwards.

“ No. “ He speaks, pushing his tongue into her weeping hole before quickly pulling out. “ Need yeh to watch me.” His hands tightening around her thigh leaving half moons as evidence.

Forcing herself up, Y/N whimpers as Harry blows air into her. His cocky smile has her dizzy with arousal.

“ Look at that.” His pink tongue coming out to lick on his bottom lip. “ Already drippin’ on my chin, petal.” He knows he’s being mean, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to stop seeing her flustered face, and tired eyes. His lips go back to suck greedily on her clit before moving towards her mound.

Strings of moans, and whimpers erupt from Y/N mouth. “ Harry! I can’t -“ Before she knows it, her thigh is twitching, and she can’t seem to hold in her whimpers.

“ Give it to me, petal. Know’ yeh wan’ to cum. Be a good girl.” He’s persistent, wants her to spill on his mouth.

“ Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” She whimpers thrashing in his hold.

“ Need yeh to look at me.” His hand slapping her thigh to get her attention. “Fuck me.” Harry groans watching her eyes water as she spills on his tongue.

The sounds leaving Y/N’s body were sinful, and Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off her sweating body as she came down from her high. As selfish as it seems, Harry wanted to stuff his face right back in her. He needed to see her make that face again.

Y/N’s lazily zoomed in on Harry’s glimmering ones. “ Yeh good, petal?” His lips red, and wet as he watched her breath.

Her body felt weak, only being able to nod her head at the cheeky boy in front of her. “ So good.” She whispered.

#Smut #harry #Harry Styles #harry styles smut #Harry smut

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she-walked-away · 7 years

Note

We are the only two parents who agreed to attend the school trip” AU (bonus: “so i guess we share this hotel room?”)

Hey guys! So, here’s a sequel to that school drabble I wrote a month or so back. I know this isn’t many people’s cup o’ tea, but this is about as canon-esque as I’ll write LOL.

WARNING: Fluff, Magical children, Magical School, and Flirty AF Klaus.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

Caroline glared over at her immortalpseudo-boyfriend, Klaus, who had the audacity to look confused.

“What the hell is this?” Carolinepractically screeched, gesturing at the huge white charter bus that was parkedon the street in front of her.

“A bus for the field trip,” he answeredquizzically. “At least for the children. Our transportation is over there.”

She followed his pointing with her eyesand groaned under her breath at the sleek black limo parked behind the bus.

“Absolutely not,” she said firmly.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Sweetheart, it’snearly a 7 hour trip to Atlanta from New Orleans. I want us and the children tobe comfortable.”

“Yes, but I asked you to get a regularschool bus, not a charter,” she glared at him. “This is so much more expensivethan I budgeted for the field trip.”

Klaus waved her off flippantly. “Don’tworry about that.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him,crossing her arms and pursing her lips together. “What did I tell you aboutdoing stuff like this?”

Klaus heaved his bag on his back andwent to take her roller suitcase from her. “Love, just because you tell me tostop throwing money at people to get what I want, doesn’t mean I’m going toride in a ridiculous yellow vehicle with screaming children for seven hours.”

Caroline tossed him a glare. “Then whydid you volunteer to chaperone?”

Klaus smirked at her, his eyes rakingdown her form lustfully. She rolled her eyes and took back her suitcase fromhim, biting her lip at the low chuckle he let out.

Damn that stupidly attractive hybrid.

“Okay, just because we are semi-datingdoesn’t mean this is a trip to fool around on.”

Klaus gave her an offended look. “Firstof all, we are together, my love. Not just “semi-dating.” And I didn’t just come to stare at youfor the next two days, love, though, I probably will be-”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t helpthe small smile creeping across her face. A little thrill went down her back athis statement about their relationship as she inwardly marveled at how luckyshe was to finally have someone who cared for her as much as she always dreamedof.

They had been dating for the past coupleof months ever since the twins and Hope played parent trap with the newlyrebuilt Mikaelson Library. Surprisingly, everything was going really good withthem. Their children were thrilled their matchmaking had worked, but weren’ttoo happy with the many hours of detention they had to go through forpunishment.

However, surprisingly, Klaus was anamazing boyfriend-y type partner.

On the other hand, calling him herboyfriend was so weird. He was so much more than that.

“-But I came to make sure Hope would besafe and create some memories with my daughter,” he finished, arching a brow ather slowly forming sheepish expression.

“I know,” she answered begrudgingly.“You’re freakishly overprotective.”

Klaus just shrugged, leaning into kissher sweetly on the cheek. “I would do the same for the twins too.”

She wrinkled her nose cutely at him. “Idon’t know why Josie loves you so much. You suck up way too much to be takenseriously.”

He grinned, bumping her hip playfullywith his arm. “I think it’s because we both like you the most.”

Caroline barked out a laugh. “You’reridiculous.”

He just hummed as he gestured towardsthe limo. “Shall we?”

She shook her head. “We can’t. Part ofbeing a chaperone is actually watching the kids. We have to ride the bus.”

Klaus made a face. “But they are soloud.”

Caroline giggled, poking him in thechest. “Welcome to chaperoning. Call off the limo and then start gathering thestudents’ luggage. We have to leave after they are finished with breakfast.”

He growled under his breath as hestalked towards the limo. Caroline smiled as she watched him, basking in theway her heart stumbled as he walked away.

The School for the Young and Gifted NewOrleans branch was headed up to Atlanta for the opening of the Georgia branch.In addition to the Mystic Falls branch that Jeremy was now running, (Alaricmoved to New Orleans with his latest girlfriend when the twins decided thatthey wanted to attend school in Louisiana), there were now three branches ofthe school.

The opening ceremony was the next day,but she decided to leave earlier the day before so that the students would havetime to explore Atlanta. Klaus volunteered immediately to chaperone with heralong with a couple of other parents and he even offered up some of his minionsfor extra protection.

Caroline wasn’t too worried aboutanybody coming to harm the kids. She was more concerned about what kind oftrouble her students could cause with their shaky grips on their powers.Needless to say, both Hope and her daughters were all wearing their braceletsto contain magic for the next few days.

“Mommy is it time to go?” she heard asmall voice behind her.

Josie stood expectantly in front of herwith a little pink suitcase, Hope and Lizzie chattering away behind her withtheir bags.

“Just about!” she replied cheerfully.“Is breakfast already over?”

The little girl shook her head, herbrown hair waving in the air. “No, I just wanted to make sure I got a good seaton the bus. I want to be able to watch the movie Mr. Klaus promised.”

Caroline chuckled, tucking a lock behindher daughter’s ear. Of course the girls would already know about the charterbus. She heard Klaus come up behind her, his footsteps stopping as he came toher side.

“Hi Dad,” Hope beamed up at her father,her adoring eyes twinkling as the sun caught a gleam off her auburn locks.

“Mr. Klaus!” Lizzie cried cheerfully.“Are those for us?”

Caroline looked over at him, fightingthe urge to roll her eyes at the platter of chocolate covered strawberries thathe held in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. Clearly his limoride was just a tip of the iceberg for the romance plans he had for the trip.

“Of course they are,” Caroline chirped,smirking at Klaus’ annoyed expression. “Wasn’t that thoughtful of Mr. Klaus?”

“I love strawberries,” Josie grinned.“Thanks Mr. Klaus.”

“Is that grape juice?” Lizzie continued,motioning at the champagne bottle. “Because, no offense, but that’s gross.”

Klaus snorted, handing Hope the platterof strawberries and the bottle to Caroline. “Not to worry, love. I will arrangefor your mother and me to drink it later.”

“I doubt that will happen,” Caroline cutin with a wink. “Hope, why don’t you take that to your seats on the bus? Jo,Liz, will you give your luggage to Klaus? He’ll go load it for you.”

Klaus growled under his breath as hetook the pink suitcases, annoyed at having been regaled to manual labor. Shesmirked victoriously before asking Lizzie to tell the other students to hurrywith their luggage so Klaus could load it in the undercarriage.

He was still grumbling ten minutes laterwhen the students began to file onto the bus.

“How many more hours?” Lizzie whinedsome time later, peeking over her mother’s shoulder at her watch.

Caroline sighed, rolling her eyes. “Atleast two until we reach the hotel.”

Klaus didn’t respond, having perfectedthe art of faking a nap. Josie and Hope were settled behind them, thwarting hisplans at trying to flirt with Caroline during the ride, and Lizzie sat acrossthe aisle, constantly interrupting their conversations with questions.

Klaus had been faking a nap for the pasthour, leaving Caroline to sit and try not to pull her hair out at her daughtersand his daughter’s constant questions about the trip.

“I’m so bored, Mommy,” Lizzie groaned,looking longingly at the sketchbook in Klaus’ hands.

Caroline pinched the top of her nose.“Why don’t you read one of your schoolbooks? I know that Professor Freya gaveyou an assignment to complete by Tuesday.”

“I already did it,” the little girl saidobviously.

“Watch the DVD that’s playing?” Carolinesuggested, gesturing at an animated Disney movie playing on the screen in frontof the bus.

“I’m tired of that one,” Lizziecomplained.

“Talk to your sister and Hope?”

“We are rooming together and I can talkto them later.”

“I don’t know what else to tell you,sweetie,” Caroline shrugged. “You’re going to have to entertain yourself.”

“Can I color?” Lizzie asked, looking atKlaus. “I brought my pencils.”

Caroline hid a smile as she nudged Klaussemi-violently with her elbow. She could tell by the twitch of his lips thathe’d been listening to their conversation, happily ignoring them. He let out agroan, but opened his eyes begrudgingly. The girls loved it when Klaus drewthem pictures to color in his sketchbook, and it amused Caroline to no end onhow this totally murderous hybrid was wrapped around the three girls’ pinkies.

“Hmm?” Klaus asked, faking a huge yawn.“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

Caroline refrained from rolling her eyesas she turned back to the book she was trying to read.

“Mr. Klaus, can I have a picture todraw?” Lizzie asked sweetly, blinking up at him. “I brought my colors but noneof the pictures I draw to color are as good as yours.”

Caroline snorted at her daughter’sobvious attempt at sweet-talking him. There was no need to it, Klaus was worseat resisting her daughters than her.

“Of course, love,” he said, flipping openhis book and ripping out something from the back. “I drew a couple of picturesbefore I left for you girls.”

Lizzie’s eyes light up and she took thebeige paper from him. “Thanks Mr. Klaus! You’re the best.”

Klaus smirked, nudging Caroline with hiselbow. “Did you hear that love? I’m the best.”

She scoffed, turning a page in her book.“You keep thinking that.”

He rose to her bait, brushing her earwith his lips as he murmured lowly in her ear. “I intend on thoroughly provingthat to you later.”

Caroline bit her lip, fighting off ashiver. He smugly grinned, pushing a curl behind her ear before pressing aquick kiss to her cheek. She pushed him back lightly, eyes skimming the bus tomake sure no one saw.

It’s not like she was ashamed of herrelationship with Klaus. But, she didn’t want any of the other chaperones tothink she brought Klaus along to just flirt and make-out with the entire time.The parents of her school trusted her to take care of their children and shedidn’t want them to ever doubt that their education and safety were her firstpriority on trips.

“Not on this trip,” she managed to getout. “I’m kicking you out of my room after lights out.”

Klaus drew back with a pout. “You don’twant to be bed buddies?”

Caroline made a face at him, his lipsquirking up amusedly. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

“I don’t think parents would be happy ifI shacked up in the hotel room with one of the other parents when I’m supposedto watching their children,” she spoke, narrowing her eyes at him. “No sexwhile I’m working.”

“That’s not what you said last week whenyou begged me to take you on your desk,” he said cheekily, pressing a kiss toher temple.

Caroline jaw dropped and she elbowed himin the ribs, feeling a frisson of satisfaction at the grunt he let out.

“That does not count,” she said, herbreath hitching when Klaus pressed a kiss to her neck. “It was a Saturday nightand I was catching up on work and you ambushed me with wine and beignets.”

He chuckled darkly against her skin,skimming his nose down her cheek. “You loved it.”

Caroline harrumphed weakly, rolling hereyes. “Whatever you think.”

Klaus pulled back and grinned at herlewdly. “The memory speaks for itself, love.”

She just scoffed and turned back to herbook, shivering a bit at his deep chuckle. Her skin prickled at his nearnessand she studiously ignored him as he turned back to his sketchbook. He ran hishand down her thigh, giving her knee a squeeze before pressing a kiss to hercheek and began to sketch. The girls behind her were chattering away withLizzie carefully coloring the wolf that Klaus had drawn. Caroline couldn’t helpbut smile to herself.

She could get used to this.

************************************

“Seriously?”

Klaus just rolled his eyes, heaving hissuitcase up on the bed. “It wasn’t my fault, sweetheart.”

Caroline glared at him. “Really? BecauseI specifically remember booking a room for me and a separateone for you.”

She glared at the single king-size bedin the middle of the room like it was a pariah. When they arrived at the hotelshe booked for the trip, the front-desk clerk announced that they’daccidentally double-booked some of the rooms.

Most of the other parents were fine withsharing, Klaus especially since he offered to take Caroline’s room with her.

Caroline fumed at the clerk, even tryingto compel them to make sure that Klaus hadn’t done the same to have themsupposedly overbook their reservations.

Either Klaus got to them before she did,or they really did mess up.

“You heard person at the front desk,love. They overbooked with that television convention in town,” he unzipped hissuitcase. “Shall I unpack your things too?”

“Nope,” she said, lugging her suitcaseto the other size of the room. “I’m going to try to get another room tomorrow.”

Klaus pressed his lips together as helooked over at her. “Is the idea of sharing a room with me so repulsive?”

Caroline looked up quickly, heartsqueezing when she noted the hidden hurt in his eyes. His tone was nonchalant,but his body language indicated otherwise.

“Of course not,” she said softly,feeling a pang of guilt.

Klaus looked away. “You could havefooled me.”

She sighed, dropping her suitcase andwalked over to him. Pulling his suitcase off the bed, she took Klaus’ hand andmoved him to where they both sat on the foot of the bed.

“I love sharing a room with you,” shemurmured.

Klaus’ jaw tightened. “You don’t have tolie to soothe my ego, love.”

Caroline groaned in frustration. “It’snothing to do with that. It’s this whole trip.”

He gave her a bewildered look. “Did younot want me to come?”

“Of course I did,” she drew back,blinking at him surprisingly. “It’s just- this is one of our first trips as aschool, and I wanted to stay professional. Yes, we’re together, but I wanted toshow all the other chaperones and parents that even though I dating one ofthem, that I can still remain professional and keep my focus on their children.”

Klaus gave her a confused look.“Sweetheart, you’re always professional. Your school is growing becauseof your dedication.”

“I know,” she shrugged. “I just wantedto maintain that same focus so that parents will trust me with their children.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worryabout that, my love,” Klaus answered back, pressing a line of kisses across hercheek. “I’m the most powerful creature in the planet and I trust you with myown child. That should speak for itself.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but a smallsmile crept across her face. “Modest as always.”

Klaus gave her a cheeky grin. “Ofcourse.”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Fine, wecan share the room. But absolutely no funny business.”

He looked at her innocently, folding hisarms behind his back as he stood up. “You have my word, love. Absolutely nounnecessary touching.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why do Ifeel like you’re choosing your words carefully with that “unnecessarytouching”?”

His answering smile was wolfish.

Caroline went to respond, but wasinterrupted by a knock at the door. She shot a quick questioning look at himand he shrugged, placing a protective hand on the small of her back as theywent to answer the door together.

She checked the peephole, flinging thedoor open when she saw a familiar red head of hair. “Hope?”

The little girl gave her a sheepishlook, fidgeting uncomfortably in her blue pajamas. “Can I stay with you andDaddy?”

“What’s wrong?” Klaus asked immediately,checking her over and looked down the hall. “Where are Lizzie and Josie?”

Hope made a face. “Lizzie snores so loudand Josie was kicking me in her sleep.”

Caroline giggled, all too familiar withher daughters’ restless sleep patterns. She loved her girls, but thank goodnessfor her quick healing vampiric nature because Josie packed a vicious kick.

“I know all too well about Lizzie’ssnoring,” she said, opening the door wider so that Hope could come in. “Ittakes a while to tune it out.”

“Auntie Freya usually burns sage whenshe stays at the Compound,” Hope said, bounding over to the bed and jumping onit. “But since we can’t use magic, I could hear it all.”

Caroline made it a strict rule thatunder no circumstances were the witches and warlocks to use magic when theywere on field trips or in hotels. There was too much that could happen with themultitude of different powers.

Plus it would be a mess to try to compel anybody who gotcaught up in a spell gone wrong.

She helped Hope turn down the covers,letting the redhead situate herself on Klaus’ side of the bed.

“Here,” she tossed a few pillows atKlaus’ face. “Love seat is all yours.”

Klaus grumbled, muttering under hisbreath about his own flesh and blood and his lover kicking him out of the bedhe reserved especially for that night.

So he did compel the frontdesk.

“Thanks for this trip Ms. Forbes,” Hopesaid quietly, her red hair fanning out on the white pillows. “I’m having somuch fun.”

Caroline smiled down at the girl as shehelped tuck the blankets around her little body. “I’m so glad.”

Klaus sat down next to his daughter,pressing a quick kiss to her forehead as he wiped her hair off her forehead.Hope smiled up at her dad, nudging him with her knee.

“Don’t forget to kiss Caroline goodnighttoo, Dad,” she grinned cheekily, arching her brow up in a way that looked somuch like Klaus. “Don’t mind me.”

Caroline threw her head back andlaughed. The girl’s boldness reminded her so much of Rebekah and how plainlyshe always spoke. Klaus rolled his eyes, kissing his daughter on the head oncemore before turning out the lamp at her side.

“Night, sweetheart.”

“Night Dad,” Hope said sleepily.

He got up and moved over to Caroline’sside of the bed, pushing a blonde curl behind her ear.

“Tomorrow night?” he murmured lowly.

“Maybe,” she teased, lifting up on herelbows.

Klaus caught her lips with his, placinga searing kiss on her mouth. She sighed softly, swiping her thumb across thestubble on his cheek. He smiled into the kiss, pulling back to press one toher nose and then another on her lips.

“Goodnight, love.”

She watched him get back to theloveseat, tossing her a quick wink before turning out the light.

“Night Klaus.”

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