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humaling · 24 days ago

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Like Real People Do (Honey, Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips).

pairings: finnick odair x reader

summary: how does the quarter quell affect between two people who love each other but can’t seem to align on how or when to admit it?

warnings: allusions to prostitutions, miscommunication, jealous! finnick, the usual hunger games

word count: 5.2k

“It’s fake.”

“It’s not.”

“It is.”

“Finnick,” you mutter, sharp and quiet, turning to face him with a glare that could cut glass. “Trust me. I’ve been there. It’s real.”

The elevator dings before he can answer. The metal doors slide open with a hiss, and you step out first, desperate to put some space between you and his arrogance. The penthouse greets you with its usual blend of Capitol opulence and poorly disguised District Four touches—seashell sconces, netted drapery, coral accents meant to mimic home. Instead, it feels like a trap. A stage dressed like a prison.

You stride through the entryway, ignoring Finnick’s footsteps behind you, and head straight to the kitchen. A pitcher of cold water and an empty glass wait for you, exactly as you requested before training. On the nearby dining table, a spread of Capitol snacks glistens under too-bright lights, untouched and uninviting.

You pour yourself a glass and drink, letting the cold water soothe your raw throat. Training was brutal. Finnick had pulled you into the sparring room the second the schedule cleared, giving you no room to argue. Not because he enjoyed watching you struggle, but because he was scared. Scared that if the Careers came for you—and they would—you wouldn’t be able to hold your own. Not after years of political posturing and Capitol parties, not after falling out of the rhythm of survival.

So he pushed you. Hard. Not to prove anything, but to make sure you'd survive if he couldn’t protect you.

He didn’t hit to hurt, but every blow carried urgency, every move a silent message: You have to be ready. And even when you matched his pace, even when you felt your body remembering the fight, it wasn’t enough to erase the way he barked corrections or watched you with that infuriating storm of concern and calculation in his eyes.

That was the Finnick that mentored you a few years ago. Sharp edges and hidden soft spots. Acting like it was all routine, all strategy, when underneath it was fear—real fear—for you.

But he didn’t just train you physically. Everytime he opened his mouth made you want to shove a trident down his throat. The pestering, the hovering, the way he bristled whenever Peeta or Blight—or any male—got too close, was suffocating. He was always talking. Always picking. Always pushing. It was getting on your nerves.

Like just now—his smug dismissal of Katniss and Peeta’s relationship as a performance for the cameras. Like he’s an expert on love, like he hasn’t spent the last two years pretending to be in love with you for the Capitol’s benefit. Like he doesn’t know what that kind of pretending can do to someone who’s actually feeling everything they’re faking.

Because you’ve seen Katniss. You’ve studied her, even before this whole plan was handed to you. You’ve watched her in interviews, in Victory Tour footage, in parties where she clung to Peeta like he was the last solid thing in a world built on shifting sand. You’ve seen how her hands shake when he’s gone too long, how her eyes soften when she looks at him and thinks no one’s watching.

You can recognize it anytime. ‘Cause you’re living through it. You’ve been there, done that.

You’ve been playing as Finnick’s doting lover for the Capitol cameras for the last two years. Smiling on his arm, laughing at his jokes, brushing your fingers over his in interviews like it’s nothing. Like it’s all for show. But it never was. Not for you.

Every touch, every glance, every moment has been real.

And the worst part? He’ll never know. Because as far as he’s concerned, it’s all just another strategy. Just another game. Another way to survive the Capitol’s grip.

But you know better. And that’s why you know Katniss isn’t faking it. Even if she, herself, doesn’t know that yet.

“How would you know what’s real?”

You roll your eyes. Here we go again, you think as you turn around to face him, Finnick is there—leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked onto you like he’s trying to read something buried just beneath your skin.

The low light casts a golden hue over his sun-warmed skin, softening the sharp lines of his face, but not the tension in it. His sea-glass eyes are hard, unreadable, swirling with frustration. The corners of his mouth are pulled downward, tight with whatever emotion he’s trying—and failing—to bite back.

You don’t blame him. Not really.

The only time you and Finnick actually interact is when the cameras are rolling. And even then, it’s all for show. Every touch, every whispered promise, every kiss—it’s part of the script. A performance crafted to sell the Capitol a fantasy they can root for. A love story polished to gleaming perfection.

None of it’s real.

At least, not to him.

The two of you haven’t had a proper conversation since the day you volunteered for Annie. Since your name replaced hers and the entire room seemed to stop breathing. You’ve either been biting each other’s heads off or pretending the other doesn’t exist ever since. Finnick’s furious about your recklessness. And you? You’re tired of being treated like you’ll crack under pressure. Like you’re some fragile porcelain doll that needs bubble wrap and constant babysitting.

It’s exhausting—acting indifferent toward the man you've loved for over two years. But you’ve had to. You needed to prove that you're not the naive girl he mentored nearly a decade ago. You’ve grown up. Hardened. Survived. Just like he did.

You made it out of your Games because you were clever, charming, and disarming. You knew how to make the Capitol fall in love with you—and they did. Enough to send gifts when it mattered. Enough to bet on your survival.

But all favors come with a price.

You still remember the weight of President Snow’s office, the way the air thinned when he leaned in close to whisper your choices: do what he says, or watch everyone you love die. The answer was obvious. And Finnick was there. Always was. Always would be.

Then one night, he showed up at your door with red-rimmed eyes and a scratchy voice, pitching the idea like it would save you both. Two beloved victors. Capitol darlings. A romance spun straight from fantasy. They’d eat it up. And they did.

At first, pretending to date Finnick made the Capitol easier to endure. Easier to stomach. But acting with him? That’s never been easy. Not for you.

It’s hard to play pretend when every smile you give him is real. Every touch. Every stolen glance. Somewhere along the line, the boundaries blurred—and you’ve been bleeding at the edges ever since.

Sometimes you wish you’d never said yes. That you’d just taken the offer and walked away. But sometimes—more than you want to admit—you’re glad. Because as long as you’re pretending to belong to him, at least you don’t have to watch him belong to someone else.

"Because I pay attention," you snap, voice trembling just beneath the surface. You turn to face him fully, shoulders tight with restraint. "Because I’ve seen the way she looks at him when she thinks no one’s watching. And I know what that looks like."

Finnick doesn’t flinch, but something shifts behind his eyes. It’s subtle—a flicker, like a crack in glass right before it shatters. Whatever he's feeling, he hides it too well, and that only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” His voice is careful, measured. He sounds like someone inching toward the edge of a cliff, trying not to slip but knowing he’s already too close to the fall.

You let out a breathless, bitter laugh and place your empty glass on the counter with a sharp clink. “It means I’ve lived it,” you say, voice low and shaking with everything you’ve been holding back. “Two years of pretending. Smiling when all I wanted to do was scream. Playing the Capitol’s perfect little love story while my heart felt like it was splintering apart every time I looked at you and realized you weren’t really looking back.”

Finnick pushes off the wall, his arms dropping to his sides, fists unconsciously clenched. “That’s not fair.”

Your eyes flash, and the words pour out before you can stop them. “No, what’s not fair is you standing there, judging everyone else for playing pretend when you’re the best damn actor of all of us. Not everyone’s faking it, Finnick. Some of us just didn’t know how to say it out loud without it breaking us.”

The air in the room turns thick, suffocating. The Capitol penthouse around you seems to shrink, closing in with gold-plated walls and fake coral accents that only make the whole place feel more artificial. The silence between you is loud, louder than any screaming match, and it rattles something loose between your ribs.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say finally, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Don’t look at me like you mean it… unless you actually do.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for your pulse to race—and then Finnick laughs. But it’s nothing like the laughs you've shared on camera. It’s hollow, bitter, and filled with something darker.

“You think I’m the one pretending?”

The words hit like a slap, but you refuse to let them show. You keep your chin high even as your heart stumbles in your chest.

“I begged you not to volunteer,” he says, stepping closer, his voice lowering to something sharper, more dangerous. “I begged you not to throw yourself back into that hellhole, and you looked me in the eye and did it anyway. Like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.”

Your jaw clenches so tightly it aches. “Don’t you dare twist this around on me—”

“Don’t I dare?” he bites back, his voice rising. “You’ve been avoiding me since we got here. Off camera, you’re colder than ice, barely speaking to me unless it’s to criticize or ignore me completely. But with everyone else?” His voice breaks into something laced with jealousy. “You’re warm, laughing, alive. You smile at Peeta like he’s an old friend. You let Haymitch make those idiotic jokes and pretend they’re even half funny. Blight—don’t get me started on Blight. One bad pun and you’re clinging to his arm like he’s your partner, not me.”

“I am not clinging to Blight’s arm for your information!” You defended yourself, clearly in disbelief at what he accused you of.

You throw your hands in the air, your breath catching with frustration. “It’s called surviving, Finnick! It’s called doing what we came here to do. Making sure the people involved in this plan don’t fall apart before it even starts. I’m trying to hold this together. I’m trying to help.”

“And what?” he shoots back. “That doesn’t include me anymore? I’m not part of what you’re trying to save?”

The words slam into you harder than you expect, and your mouth opens—but nothing comes out. Your body stills, like your thoughts can’t catch up fast enough. You see the moment Finnick notices your hesitation. His face falls, not completely, but enough to make your throat tighten.

“Right,” he mutters, taking a step back like the space between you is suddenly unbearable. “Guess I don’t matter. Not to you. Not anymore.”

“That’s not true,” you whisper, because it isn’t. Not even close.

But Finnick just looks at you, eyes glassy with something sharp and silent, something he won’t name. “No,” he says, softer now, and somehow that’s worse. “What’s not true is the way you walk around like none of this is killing you. Like you weren’t the one who used to look at me like I was your whole world. Now you look right through me like I’m just… some Capitol stunt.”

You blink rapidly, as if that might clear the ache building in your chest, but it doesn’t help. Nothing would.

“You want to talk about pretending?” he says, voice nearly breaking now, hushed but no less brutal. “I was pretending to protect you. That’s all I ever wanted. But you… you’ve been pretending not to care.”

The words crash into you like a wave, salt in a wound that’s never quite closed. You stagger beneath the weight of them—not outwardly, no. You stay standing. Still. Silent. But inside? You’re unraveling. You try to form a response, to reach for something, anything that could cut through the wreckage between you, but all you find is air.

Finnick holds your gaze a second longer, like he’s waiting for you to fight for this. For him. For you. But your throat locks around the words that could make it right, and all that comes is breath—shaky, shallow, useless.

So, he walks away.

You stand there, eyes burning, nails digging into your palms like maybe pain will ground you. Like maybe if you hurt a little more on the outside, it’ll match the chaos bleeding through your ribs.

You watch him disappear down the hall, his broad shoulders rigid, his steps quick—like he’s trying not to change his mind. Like walking away is the only way he won’t break. He doesn’t look back. Not once. And that—that—is what does it.

Because he always used to.

He always used to turn, even when he said he wouldn’t. He always gave you that last glance. The one that said I’ll come back. The one that made all of this feel survivable.

But this time, he doesn’t.

And it hits you all at once—how close you came to telling him the truth. How badly you wanted to say his name. To take a step forward. To let your guard down and finally just feel everything you’ve been burying under sharp glances and cold silence.

But you didn’t.

So you stay rooted in place, heart hammering, mouth dry, soul screaming every word you couldn’t manage to say aloud.

I did it for Annie, but I stayed for you.

I smile for the Capitol, but I bleed for you.

I never stopped looking at you like you were everything.

But it’s too late. The hallway is empty now, and the only thing left is the echo of your silence and the ache you’ll carry back to your room, wearing it like armor you never wanted to put on in the first place.

The ride back to the Tribute Center feels like suffocation in motion. The Capitol car hums too quietly beneath you, the soft glow of the ceiling lights reflecting off sleek black windows like a mirrored coffin. You’re boxed in—pressed between Finnick’s sharp-edged silence and the buzz of impending fallout.

It started fine. Mags met you with a tight embrace when you stepped off the elevator from the assessment room, her small arms wrapped around you in that way that made you feel ten years old again. Safe. Forgiven. Finnick didn’t say anything—just offered you a short, clipped nod and turned for the car with a clenched jaw and storm clouds in his eyes.

Now, with the car doors sealed and Mags seated on your other side, the tension thickens like fog. You barely have a moment to breathe before Vevina—the Capitol-appointed escort with wine-red curls and nails to match—erupts beside the driver.

“I cannot believe you!” Her voice cracks the silence like a whip, startling even Mags. “After everything we’ve done for you, after everything we’ve planned—and this is what you do?!”

Your spine stiffens. Finnick shifts beside you, his arm brushing yours with the weight of discomfort. Mags straightens, her brow arching in curiosity. You watch the gears click behind their eyes—realizing neither of them know what happened yet.

Vevina is all too eager to fill the silence.

“She refused to do anything,” she spits, turning halfway in her seat to glare at you with glittering disbelief. “Just stood there. No weapon. No display. Nothing!”

The words feel louder in the confined space. Mags frowns, her weathered hands folding slowly in her lap. Finnick’s jaw tightens as he finally turns his head toward you, eyes narrowing as he listens.

“She just stood there and said,” Vevina’s voice pitches higher as she throws her hands in the air, mocking your tone, “‘I’m already performing every day for your cameras. I’m done pretending I’m here to entertain you.’” She throws her arms wide in exasperation. “As if that won’t get her killed the second the arena begins!”

Silence crashes down again.

You don’t need to look to feel Finnick’s stare burning into the side of your face. You already know the expression he’s wearing. It's the same one he wore three days ago—when you first shattered whatever fragile understanding you two had left. That look of restrained rage and disappointment twisted into one perfect storm.

“Is that true?” His voice cuts through the silence like a blade. Low, dangerous. He’s holding back—barely.

You still don’t look at him. You keep your eyes locked on the passing blur of Capitol lights outside the tinted window. Each one leaves a smear of gold in its wake, like stars that never belonged to you. Your voice is flat when it comes.

“Yeah.”

The word hangs in the air like smoke.

You close your eyes and brace for impact—for him to lash out, to accuse you, to hurt you with that sharp tongue of his that’s only ever merciful when it’s lying to an audience. But nothing comes.

Just a breath.

A slow, heavy exhale from his chest as he leans back in his seat. Resigned. Tired. And somehow, that hurts worse.

Vevina whirls back toward him, incredulous. “You’re not even going to say anything? Not even for Mags’ sake?”

But Finnick stays quiet. And so does Mags. The quiet that follows isn’t passive—it’s electric. Laced with things no one wants to say aloud.

Vevina scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief and disgust. “If getting killed is what you wanted, then congrats,” she snaps. “You just punched your one-way ticket.”

You swear you see Finnick flinch. Just a twitch in the tight line of his jaw. But he doesn’t speak.

You don’t either. Not out loud.

But inside, your heart screams.

You want to tell them you had to do it. That every second of that performance room was agony and you refused to give them what they wanted again. That standing there and saying nothing was the only way you still felt like you—not their puppet, not their doll, not a prop in some grand Capitol tragedy. Just a girl with enough self-worth left to say “no.”

You want to scream that this is the only way you know how to fight anymore.

You want to turn to Finnick and beg him to see you, really see you—not the girl who keeps pushing him away, but the one who's terrified of needing him. The one who stood there in front of a panel of people who decide death like it's theater casting—and chose defiance over safety.

But all of it lodges in your throat like glass.

So you keep staring out the window, letting the city lights blur and smear like tears you're too proud to shed. Your hands curl into fists on your lap, nails biting crescents into your palms. And beside you, Finnick stays just as silent, like he knows that anything he says now might break you both for good.

The penthouse doors click open with a quiet hiss, and you step inside, barely registering the soft clink of your boots against the pristine floors. The walk from the elevator felt endless, but still not long enough for you to gather yourself.

The lights are dimmed—just the glow from the city seeping in through the towering windows, casting pale gold shadows across the marble. You drop your training bag by the door, more out of muscle memory than thought, and wrap your arms around yourself as you exhale.

You expect more silence. Or worse—a fight.

You expect Finnick to follow behind with that same cold expression he’s worn the last three days, full of wounded pride and unspoken words. You expect him to start pacing, to ask you what the hell you were thinking, to say your name like it's both a curse and a prayer.

But none of that comes.

Instead, as you turn around to face him, Finnick is already there. Right there in front of you. Closer than he’s allowed himself to be in days.

You barely have time to blink before his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him like he’s been waiting for permission he never got. His hands press against your back, one cradling the base of your neck, the other curling around your waist. There’s no hesitation. No performance. Just warmth, and the quiet kind of desperation that makes your knees falter.

Your breath stutters in your chest as your cheek rests against the crook of his shoulder. The scent of salt and sea and something uniquely him fills your nose. Your hands hover in the air, unsure, before finally pressing against his back like they belong there.

“I thought you were going to yell at me,” you whisper.

Finnick’s voice comes low, raw, and close to your ear. “I was going to. I had a whole speech rehearsed.”

You let out a shaky breath that might’ve been a laugh if it didn’t hurt so much.

“So why didn’t you?” you ask.

His hand presses a little tighter against your spine, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter—like if he says it too loud, it’ll make the truth hurt worse.

“Because when you said those words in the assessment room, I wanted to be furious… but all I could think was how brave it was. How much it probably cost you to stand there and say them.” He swallows. “And how much I hate that I wasn’t in that room to take the fallout for you.”

Your eyes sting, throat burning with everything you’ve refused to let yourself feel these past few days.

“You keep doing this,” you murmur into his chest. “You keep breaking my heart by caring when I try so hard to stop needing you.”

His fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, and for a second, it feels like he’s holding on for dear life.

“I don’t think you’ll ever stop needing me,” he says quietly. “And I really hope you don’t. Because I never stopped needing you either.”

You close your eyes. You don’t say anything else. You just stand there, wrapped in him, while the city lights blink silently beyond the glass. And for once, there’s no Capitol watching, no plan to uphold, no stage to perform on.

Just two people who’ve been worn down to bone and still find home in each other.

You think the moment might end there.

Just the quiet comfort of his arms, the soft echo of your breathing synced with his, the hush of a moment too sacred to touch. But Finnick pulls back slightly—not all the way, just enough to look down at you. His hands stay on your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish the second he lets go.

And then his eyes—those sea-green eyes, always so guarded, so careful—begin to shimmer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice rough. “Like you don’t know.”

Your brow furrows, confused. “Know what?”

He exhales hard through his nose, the kind of breath that comes before a fall. And then he shakes his head and mutters, almost to himself, “I can’t keep pretending this is just strategy. I can’t keep pretending that this is just survival.”

Your heart starts to hammer against your ribs.

He takes a step back, just enough so he can really see you. His hands are trembling, slightly. His jaw tightens, loosens again. Whatever dam he’s kept up for months—maybe years—is finally breaking.

“I love you,” Finnick says, low and certain, like the words have always existed on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve been in love with you since before the cameras ever caught our first kiss. Before you ever stepped onto that stage and shattered everything I thought I knew about sacrifice.”

You freeze, like your body hasn’t quite caught up to the magnitude of what’s just been said.

Finnick steps closer again. One of his hands lifts to your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing the skin just beneath your eye.

“I didn’t say anything because I thought it would hurt you. But every time you laugh at someone else’s joke, or act like I’m just your partner in this twisted Capitol show—I feel like I’m losing you.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He lets his hand fall from your face, his eyes searching yours with a kind of desperation that makes your chest ache.

“And I know I don’t get to be angry about that. I know I don’t get to hate the way you smile at Peeta or lean too close to any of our friends or let anyone make you laugh. But it kills me. Because none of them know what your laugh sounds like at three in the morning when you can’t sleep. None of them have seen you hold a knife in your shaking hand and still choose mercy. None of them know you like I do. And I hate that I let you forget that.”

Finnick takes a breath, ragged and hollow, like he’s just laid his soul bare and now he’s waiting for you to hand it back shattered.

“I love you,” he says again, quieter now. “Not the way the Capitol wants me to. Not the way the cameras tell us to. I love you like I’m drowning and you’re the only thing that keeps me from sinking.”

He doesn’t reach for you again. He just stands there, heart open, waiting for you to do whatever comes next.

And for the first time, there’s no script.

No cameras. No Capitol audience waiting to dissect your every glance, every staged smile. No lines fed to you in passing, no whispered reminders to play your part. Just the two of you standing in the quiet hum of the penthouse, raw and exhausted, stripped down to the truth neither of you has dared to say aloud until now.

His words echo in your mind—I love you—so impossibly simple, but they splinter something deep in your chest. All the weight you’ve carried, all the silence you’ve swallowed, all the pain you’ve convinced yourself didn’t matter—it rises like a tide. You want to speak, to say something back, to offer him the same pieces of yourself that he just laid bare. But your throat burns and your heart is thundering and all that comes out is a shaky breath.

Your hands move before your thoughts can stop them. One rises to cradle his jaw, fingers trembling as they brush over the curve of his cheek. The other clings to the back of his neck, like if you let go now, he might disappear. Finnick doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. He’s just watching you, eyes wide and glassy, like he doesn’t know if this is real or another cruel illusion crafted by the Capitol.

It’s not perfect. There’s no grace to it, no slow-burn choreography. It’s messy and desperate, a little too hard at first, like you’re trying to pour every unanswered question into that single touch. Your lips are warm and trembling against his, and he tastes like salt and sorrow and the truth. His hands tighten around your waist as he kisses you back with the same aching urgency, pulling you in like he’s drowning and you’re the only thing keeping him afloat.

It’s not like the kisses they’ve made you perform. This one doesn’t smile for the cameras. It doesn’t pause for applause. It’s not soft for comfort or sharp for show. It’s everything you’ve been too scared to admit—the longing, the rage, the love you thought would kill you if you ever let it out. You feel the years between you, the Games, the grief, the fake smiles, the lonely nights. You feel it all in that one, fragile moment.

When you finally pull apart, your foreheads press together, your breaths still mingling in the space between. Neither of you speak. There’s no need. Finnick’s eyes are wet, his lashes damp, and his mouth trembles like he’s still afraid this isn’t real. Your chest is tight, your hands still curled into the fabric of his shirt, and you wonder if he can feel your heart hammering against his.

“You have no clue how long I was waiting to do that,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath between the two of you. A soft smile tugs at your lips, fragile but real, like you’re afraid it might fall apart if you let it grow too much.

Finnick lets out a laugh—quiet, rough around the edges, nothing like the polished Capitol chuckles he’s known for. It’s breathless, like the wind’s been knocked out of him, and there’s something boyish about it, something stripped of performance.

“Yeah?” he murmurs, forehead still pressed to yours, his eyes half-lidded but bright with something warm and familiar. “Try being in my shoes. Watching you walk around every day like you’re untouchable. Like you don’t see me losing my mind a little more each time you smile at everyone but me.”

Your fingers tighten slightly in his shirt, heart stuttering in your chest as the weight of his words sinks in. You’re not sure what to say to that. You didn’t know he noticed. You didn’t know he cared that much. But he did. He does.

Finnick lifts a hand, fingers brushing gently over your cheek like he’s committing your face to memory. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he adds, quieter this time. “How hard it’s been to pretend it didn’t matter. To act like I didn’t care when you laughed at Haymitch’s jokes, or when you gave Peeta advice like it was the most natural thing in the world. All while I’m sitting there wondering if I ever meant anything at all.”

You want to tell him he’s wrong. That he’s always meant everything. That all the coldness, the distance, the biting remarks—it was never hate. It was heartbreak. It was the only way you knew how to survive loving him when you didn’t think you were allowed to.

So instead of saying anything, you lean in again, your lips brushing his with the kind of tenderness that aches. This kiss is softer, slower—less of a storm, more of a surrender. You let it speak for you. Every word you haven’t said. Every feeling you’ve been too afraid to name.

And when you pull away, just enough to rest your head against his chest and let his heartbeat calm yours, he wraps his arms around you like he’s afraid to let go.

Neither of you says anything for a while.

Because for once, there’s no need to.

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair #hunger games finnick #the hunger games #finnick x reader

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monolotus · 3 months ago

Text

to be loved is . . .

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒

includes: reader gets referred to as a girlfriend, seventeen adores you so much

When seventeen adores you so much that they can’t help but make you feel so loved even with the smallest gestures

Scoups ⨾ ﹙ to be able to take care ﹚

Scoups, the good leader. He’s always taking care of everybody around him- the staff, his family, his members. He will neglect himself in order to help somebody else, no matter how big or small the help may be.

So, when is late at night, and he allows himself to ask you to help him, you can’t help but smile softly, pulling him closer to your body as you comfort him trough his crying.

He allows you to help him.

When he comes late after practice, he knows you will prepare a tasty dinner for him, with a warm bath afterwards. You will help him with his clothing, as he is ever so tired to change into his pajamas. And you’ll cuddle, and he will be the one being hugged, you all over him｡

Jeonghan ⨾ ﹙ to be childish ﹚

You can’t help but to be yourself around him. How could you not? If he is so unapologetically himself. Your love for the silly games and pranks can’t help itself when you are around your lover. He created a space where your childish jokes can be heard, a space where no matter how dumb the hobby may seem, your lover is always ready to support you｡

Joshua ⨾ ﹙ to be soft ﹚

Ever the gentleman, Joshua can’t help but see you as the most sweet thing in the entire world. He encourages your aftercare routine, doesn’t matter the time nor the problem- you had a fight? a bad day? you stressed yourself out? He’s already in his pajamas, ready to help you with your aftercare routine.

Whenever you feel the world’s expectations on your shoulders, too heavy to let your walls fall, he’s already there: ready with a warm smile, and sweet words towards you.

When the worlds feels like too much, he’s ready to help｡

Jun ⨾ ﹙ to be seen ﹚

You said once you hated the world’s view on you- how people could perceive you wrongly. Since then, Jun has taken it as a full time job to learn you; your hobbies, your freckles, your expressions lines and even the colors that you think makes your eyes pop.

He’s ready to show you that, even if the world has a wrong perception of you, he’s had taken his time to see you for who you are. Not your money, connections, friends or anything alike. He will take his time to know why you frown when you listen to good music, or why you are so scared of cockroaches｡

Hoshi ⨾ ﹙ to be too much ﹚

Too loud, too emotional, too soft, too impulsive. There’s nothing wrong with being too much, that’s something that Hoshi made sure you’d understand early on your relationship.

You are being too emotional? fine! he’ll cry with you while watching the final episode of your latest favorita k-drama. You can’t take Jeonghan’s teasing today? Fine, he’ll shield you from the eldest jokes! There’s nothing wrong with feeling too much. You two take pride in creating a space where both of you could be too hyper, and nobody would have the right to say anything about it｡

Wonwoo ⨾ ﹙ to take space ﹚

Always making yourself feel small. You would physically make yourself smaller when two members would sandwich you, you would lower your voice whenever someone else spoke while you talked. That’s something Wonwoo couldn’t take lightly.

He would encourage you to speak louder when someone would interrupt you, he would make himself look even bigger just so you wouldn’t feel bad about taking even the smallest space between members.

He doesn’t allow his partner to feel small, not when she is full of good things to showcase to the world｡

Woozi ⨾ ﹙ to take time ﹚

“Good things take time” That’s what he said when you couldn’t stop complaining about your assignment taking too long to be finished by your group.

He explained, slowly and surely, how the other groups had their own times to work on their assignment- Everybody had their own schedule, yours been as busy as ever.

He made sure, after this, to encourage you to take time to do your things- your homework, your hair, your night routine.

Without realizing it, he started to take time to plan his own schedule. Sure to say, you made sure he also took time to eat and cuddle with you｡

Minghao ⨾ ﹙ to being taken cared of ﹚

To being able to love, you have to love yourself first. How can you take care of Minghao, if you neglect yourself so much? How could you learn about which herbs can help the stress you both go under, if by the smallest mistake you are trowing hard words at yourself?

He didn’t complain when his tea (made by you) was slightly sour. He didn’t complain when he got sick after taking care of you and your fever. And he would never complain about helping you through your meltdowns.

Why? Because he loves you.

Why would he complain about taking care of his partner? He knew you would drop everything for him if he called you sick, so why wouldn’t he do the same for you?

He did｡

He poured his favorite tea, his most fluffy blanket and pulled his best recipes from Mingyu. He took care of you, even when you wouldn’t stop complaining about it.

Easily, and without thinking too much about it. Because he loves you｡

Mingyu ⨾ ﹙ to be spoiled ﹚

You can’t look at something twice, say “it’s pretty” or even send him a new caffe than opened downtown, or he would be taking action into buying everything that you could lay your eyes on.

Oh, you liked a new foundation at Olive young? Good thing he’s ambassador of the brand! Craving something sweet? Snickers are right there!

There is no need to worry about your plate being nothing short of delicious: he cooks just the way you like it- the meat, the veggies, even the side dishes. He doesn’t mind eating a little bit less meat if that means you get to enjoy your food for a little longer｡

You complained, once, that you didn’t really like your work’s lunch. You bet he took matter into his own hands to learn how to make cute lunch boxes, always sending it with a cute note (“Missing your smile”; “hope you miss me as much as i miss you”; “listen to this song, it made me think of you”)

Seokmin ⨾ ﹙ to be a part of ﹚

Game night? Late after-work-drinks? Behind the scenes of a photo shoot? He makes sure you are included. Let it be through pictures, messages, video calls or even inviting you to the place.

He loves getting a picture of your lunch, a short OOTD video or even a complaint of the weather- it makes him feel part of your daily routine, even when you are in different continents. So, he does the same.

He sends a selca when is late at night and he has just gotten out of the shower, or when the boys decided to order some chicken, or even when he saw a CD of your favorite band while taking a walk with his friends: he makes sure to send a picture, to make sure you know you’re always on his mind｡

Seungkwan ⨾ ﹙ to be emotional ﹚

Growing up you didn’t let many things affect you, you couldn’t cry easily.

Until you met Seungkwan, who would always talk sweet nothings to you “i love doing nothing with you” “i appreciate you doing this for me” “it means a lot that you took time to help me”. His tongue would held so many sweet words towards you, that it was only a matter of time until you started to imitate him.

When he would stay awake to wait for you on a friday night, you would drop a “it meas a lot that you decided to wait for me, that’s why i love you” and he would be shocked, not used to you saying things like that.

He didn’t push it, not at all.

He was his emotional self, and with that, you learnt that being outspoken and letting people around you know how you felt for them, meant a lot.

How could you not? If it was so easy for him to cry out of pure love for his fans, for his friends, for his family｡

How could you not have your eyes filled with tears, as you mumbled about your love towards him?

Vernon ⨾ ﹙ to be shared ﹚

“Yeah, my girlfriend really likes that band” “Have you seen this movie? My partner is the biggest fan” “You know, my girlfriend told me how they did this scene…” Are some common phrases when it comes to Vernon.

He is a little nerd when it comes to his favorite niches, and so are you.

It slipped from your tongue before you could stop yourself “You know, they were actually drunk when filming this scene…” And, later, when a carat would ask about a TMI, he would answer with a fun fact you told him about a movie, a record, an artist.

More often than not, he would make a new playlist inspired by you. He has multiple by now.

In letterbox, he has a watchlist named “to watch with her” And another, called “Her watch” As you don’t really use the app. He rates the movies for you- mamma mia having a 5/5 star｡

Dino ⨾ ﹙ to be heard ﹚

Always the youngest, the overlooked. He can’t bare the thought of not hearing what his partner has to say. Let it be the dumbest opinion in the entire world, he would look at you with big eyes, waiting for you to finish your train of thought.

When you pause the episode of the latest drama you two are watching, he looks down, ready to hear your opinion on how the plot could be resolved.

When you send an album to his chat, with the text “Wait a sec”, he knows he is in for a rant opinion about each track, talking about how you would change it, or why you loved it so much.

You’re first person he sends every draft to: A cover, a coreography, even the instagram pictures. He values your opinion, and he hears it.

He doesn’t just listen, he hears it. He takes his time to process your words, even if it cuts the flow of the conversation, as he really wants to make sure he understands you｡

–sorry for any errors, first time writing long paragraphs for a fic! lol. let me know what you think. Xoxo, gi

– requests and asks are open!

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sellenite · 2 years ago

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cherry blossoms 02 pairing: virgin!Choso x fem!reader contents: masturbation (m!), Choso's first kiss!, heavy-making out, no real sex but heavily implied (leading up to it), friends to lovers, heavy on consent because Choso deserves it, slow-burn (a little), fluff + smut word count: 2.4K MDNI | 18+

virgin!Choso who hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about you since you helped him with his late-night issue over the phone. For the rest of the week, he would lay in bed at night and replay the sound of your voice over and over again in his mind. He imagined your velvety, breathy whisper as you guided him so softly and sensually—soothing, yet erotic at the same time. He thought of your moans—those sweet, angelic sounds—and what he liked to imagine you did to yourself to make them… Every night since your phone call, he found himself in the same situation: his hand wrapped tightly around his length—just like you had taught him—,fisting himself to the memory of your voice until he came. It was almost becoming his nightly routine. Choso was obsessed.

virgin!Choso who couldn’t help but crave more as the days passed. He felt a little guilty as he stroked himself at night, thinking about you, and all of the ways he wanted you to touch him... He knew how dirty it was. Even though the ideas of pleasure and masturbation were new to him, he still understood that he was beginning to view you, very, very differently than just as a “friend.” But he couldn’t stop himself. His imagination was running wild as he recounted all of the different ways you had tried to explain to him how pleasure could be felt. And he was so eager to experience all of it, to explore all of it; but he wanted it to be with you. He thought of the way you made him feel so safe. The way you talked to him so kindly and didn’t judge him for his questions. The way you looked at him with your bright, pretty eyes... Sex just wouldn’t feel right to him if it wasn’t with you. He wanted to be yours; and he wanted you to be his, too.

virgin!Choso who waited until the weekend before he finally allowed himself to invite you over. He felt a little shy when he called you. The two of you had texted since that night, but nothing had been mentioned of your assistance after you had hung up. Now all that remained was an electric tension between the two of you, one that made Choso’s palms sweat and his stomach flutter as he asked you oh-so innocently to come over. He told himself that it was perfectly fine, normal even; you were his friend, after all. And it was Friday night, and the two of you always watched movies with Yuji then. It would be more weird if he didn't invite you over, he rationalized. However, on this particular Friday, things just happened to conveniently fall into place; Yuji was out with his friends, leaving Choso alone in their shared apartment for the rest of the evening.

“I wanted to know if you would like to come over tonight… To watch a movie,” he asked, his deep voice sounding a little more quiet than usual. You couldn't help but smile to yourself as you heard his shy tone, knowing already that Yuji wasn't home.

“I’d like that, Choso,” you responded sweetly, feeling little butterflies stir in your stomach.

virgin!Choso who greeted you at his door only seconds after you knocked. He had been pacing back and forth in his living room for the last hour, anxiously anticipating your arrival. He felt his breath catch in his throat as soon as he saw you standing in his doorway. He had always thought your eyes were so pretty and that your lips looked so full and soft, but he had never understood what it meant… Until now. Now when he saw you he realized how badly he wanted you, how badly he had always wanted you—you were so perfect, so beautiful. He tried his best to keep his cool, but you could see the newfound passion he felt for you burning within his eyes.

“So… Are you gonna let me come in or what?” You asked him teasingly, letting out one of those cheerful giggles he loved so much. He felt his cheeks flush, his hand nervously rubbing at the back of his neck as he mentally slapped himself for staring at you for so long.

virgin!Choso who browsed through movies with you as you sat beside one another on the well-worn loveseat in his and Yuji’s living room. The tension between you two had reduced itself to a simmer, but Choso couldn’t help the glances he stole at your pursed lips as you watched him click through titles with the TV remote. You considered a few different options together before eventually finding an action movie that looked fun and harmless enough. However, halfway through the movie, you both watched intently as the main characters started to engage in a very specific form of action.

You could hear Choso’s breath catch in his throat as the scene turned steamy: a close-up shot of the characters making out on a bed, running their hands up and down their barely-clothed forms. The scene was fun and sexy—and still relatively tame—yet it was all too much for Choso. He had become much too aware of the proximity of your bodies as you sat shoulder-to-shoulder, feeling the heat of your skin practically radiating into his. You snuck a glance over at Choso as you heard him swallow a lump in his throat and your eyes caught on his hands that nervously twitched over his sweatpants—trying in vain to hide the tent that was beginning to form beneath the fabric. Your lips parted slightly as your eyes drifted up to meet his own, his cheeks tinged a light pink. After your phone call last weekend, it was evident that you and Choso were entering a territory that went beyond normal “friendship.” And you could tell by the way he was looking at you that he felt it too.

“Choso… Can I kiss you?” You asked him gently, reaching out to gingerly place your hand on his thigh. You felt confident that he would say yes, but there was a lingering shyness in your question; if there was any ounce of normalcy left in your relationship with Choso, this would certainly break it. Choso looked at you with wide eyes as he felt your hand rest hesitantly on his thigh before gently nodding his head.

“Yes,” he said softly, swallowing hard as he tentatively uncovered his erection and placed his large hand over your own.

virgin!Choso whose lips parted open in anticipation as your other hand found his face, your cool palm resting gently against his flushed cheek. You smiled at him sweetly as you looked into his deep purple eyes, the nervous excitement evident in his dilated pupils.

“Just close your eyes..." You told him in a gentle whisper as you started to lean in. “And follow my lead…” Your and Choso’s eyes fluttered closed as you inched your face closer to his, your hand on his cheek guiding you to his lips.

And then you kissed him. You pressed your lips to his full, plush ones tenderly, slowly even, letting him experience the sensation of the kiss gently. You felt his hand that was still resting on top of yours tighten, his breath catching in his throat as he felt the soft pressure of your lips. A warm shiver ran down his spine like melted honey. He felt dizzy as he processed the feeling of it all; the feather-light touch of your hand on his cheek, the delicate warmth in which you kissed him. His head was spinning—light-headed and giddy all at the same time—and it took him a moment to collect himself before he could kiss you back, tentatively copying the pressure of your lips against his own. You let the kiss linger for a moment before you broke it, letting your parted lips brush teasingly against his, breathing softly.

“More...” Is all Choso whispered back, a breathless flush on his cheeks as he brought his lips quickly back to yours.

virgin!Choso who kissed you back with hunger the second time, letting out a satisfied moan against your lips as he felt the warmth of your mouth return to his. He felt you smile against him as he pressed into you, his hand still nervously squeezing your own in his desperation to feel more of you. He still wasn’t quite sure what to do with his mouth, but he felt how you gently slotted your lips around his top lip and he did the best he could to mimic it on your bottom lip. You hummed in appreciation as he copied your movements, beginning to smoothly slide your mouth over his without pulling back. Choso’s kisses were a sloppy and frenzied in his initial enthusiasm, but he fell into your rhythm quickly. He could feel is heart rate skyrocketing as your soft lips melded with his own over and over again. Your touch was intoxicating and Choso was addicted—addicted to how soft you were against him, and how sweet you tasted on his lips, like candied cherries.

Your hands slid from his face to the back of his head, your fingers lacing through his soft hair that was down from its usual buns. He groaned into the kiss as he worked his mouth against yours and felt your nails gently scratch across his scalp. You could feel the way his hand seemed to twitch over yours and you took the initiative to gently guide it to your waist as you moved your body closer. Choso’s breath faltered as he felt the soft curve of your hip under his palm—practically melting at the touch—as you moved your hand to rest against his strong chest. The kiss broke as you slid your thigh over his lap, straddling his waist gently.

“Is this okay?” You asked him breathlessly but respectfully, looking deeply into his eyes for any sign of discomfort, to which you found none. A boyish smile graced his lightly swollen lips as he looked back at you, eyes shining with excitement. He nodded back fervently, both of his hands smoothing over the curves of your hips as he looked at you in awe.

“More than okay,” he answered with a breathless smile. You beamed back at him happily before you leaned in again, weaving your fingers through his soft, chocolate-colored strands as you kissed him with passion.

virgin!Choso who groaned into your mouth as he felt your hips sink into his lap, your thigh brushing against his now throbbing erection. His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he instinctively pulled you towards his body, feeling the hunger of when he first started kissing you immediately return. He followed your lead when you let your tongue gently slide against his bottom lip, meeting yours with his own as one of his hands slid to the small of your back, pushing your body flush against his own. He was breathing heavily as he kissed you, feeling overwhelmed but in the best way possible. His large palms gripped the delicious plush of your hips and waist, holding you tightly yet tenderly. Your body was so soft beneath his hands and against his chest, and it was driving him insane. He wanted to press his lips to every inch of your skin, to feel every curve of your figure beneath his palms. He wanted to know every inch of your body as if it were his own; to treat you as softly and beautifully as you treated him.

virgin!Choso whose breath caught in his throat as he felt your lips slide away from his mouth to massage over the strong contour of his jaw. His eyes were heavy-lidded as your hand slid to his face, gently angling his chin up as you bowed your head to press a kiss to the pulse point of his neck. He let out a shaky moan as his fingers dug into your hips even harder, holding onto you like an anchor. The way your lips brushed over the sensitive skin of his throat had left him feeling delirious.

“Does that feel good, Choso?” You whispered softly against his skin, tickling his neck as you pressed another kiss to his throat, slightly lower than the last. You could feel your own arousal building as you listened to his ragged breathing and the feeling of his bulge pressed firmly into your thigh.

“Yes… Feels so good,” Choso moaned, his voice almost slurred from the way your soft mouth on his skin seemed to make his braincells evaporate. He leaned his head back further, letting your lips slide and suck over his skin, moaning again when he felt the point of your tongue slip out to tease him. He felt intoxicated, entranced, as if you had put some strange curse on him that made his mind think of you and only you. His body leaned back into the couch, absorbing the feeling of your mouth working down his neck at a sensually slow pace. Your hips began to lightly roll into his lap, grinding your aching core along his hard-on. Choso exhaled a heavy groan as his hips instinctually rolled into yours.

“Please,” he whined softly as you ground your hips gently into his, your lips and tongue still teasing over his neck. He feared that if you kept going he would burst in his pants from that alone; he was already so worked up. You picked your head up to look at him as you heard his plea, his eyes gently opening, swollen lips still parted as he breathed heavily.

“Please, what, Choso?” You asked him softly, once again searching for his explicit consent before you progressed with anything. His deep purple eyes were hungry with desire as you gazed into them, but he felt that familiar comfort he always felt with you stirring in his heart. He swallowed down the last of his nervousness before he answered you, more sure of himself than he had ever been.

“Please, touch me more,” he said gently yet confidently, his thumbs unconsciously rubbing tender circles into your waist. You smiled and nodded your head softly, pressing a kiss to his lips before you asked him sweetly:

“Do you trust me?”

PSA: If you saw me change this story for the millionth time... No you didn't... 😭 It was up for awhile before I realized that I wanted to revise it. I felt that I missed some of Choso's softness in the original version I had uploaded so I wanted to rewrite him and do him justice 🫶

But thank you so much for reading! Everyone who has read, liked, commented and/or reblogged, just know you have made my week 🫶

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #choso smut #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x y/n #kamo choso x reader #kamo choso smut

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43qh · 5 months ago

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is this forever? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: unprotected sex, soft and sweet!

word count: 2.4k

summary: love is so many different things.

love is a consumption.

you’re convinced it consumes you more than anything else. when you look at quinn, there’s nothing left in your body but love for him. when he has those distressed eyes, you make sure to clear them up. the crinkle in his forehead disappears around you.

when it came to offseason, quinn couldn’t keep his eyes and hands off of you. he was victim to the way you felt in his arms. he considered nothing more perfect.

with you below him, undressed, all for his taking. he couldn’t contain himself. your moans were a calling for him to keep going. each thrust making him sweat a little bit more. buried deep inside you like he was made for you. like you were made for him.

he whispers softly in your ear, “feels so much better than my hand.” he huffs when you clench around him. he wants to savor this moment. “you’re so tight, so warm.”

the sounds you make is music to his ears. it sounds like love to him. quinn was a love maker, you knew that all too well. there were times when he got a bit rough, no complaining on your end. but he was made for this kind of intimacy.

quinn was a lover.

quinn was your lover.

his thrusts were slow, deep. his breaths were uneven at the feeling of you wrapped around him. you could hear the occasional groan and whimper come from him when you clawed at his back a little harder, or when you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him closer. he can’t stop from falling to his elbows at the sensation, falling weak to you.

he groans in your ear, listening to your moans like they’re prayers. “close?” he was out of breath, unable to form a full sentence.

you nod, sweat collecting at the brim of your forehead, “yes, yes, quinn.”

quinn can’t stop his hips from picking up pace at the declaration. he lives for the way you moan his name, the tightening in his chest driving him crazy.

when you cum around his cock, it feels like a chain reaction. he can’t stop the way he cums with you, the way he fills you up to the brim with belated breaths.

the air felt hot and heavy as the both of you calm down, hearts beating in sync like the two of you were one person.

“i love you.” he looks over at you, tilting his head and kissing your cheek.

you hum, “i love you, quinn.”

he kisses your shoulder, “let’s clean up.”

love is time consuming.

not in a bad way.

your thoughts sway back and forth to quinn in everything you do. you make coffee, and the way he likes his coffee comes forth. when he��s gone, you think of how warm he feels laying next to you. you iron his clothes and think about how he looks inside them.

when you hear your phone ring, you know it’s quinn. no one else calls you so consistently the way he does.

“beautiful,” he greets, his voice a little rugged.

“handsome,” you greet back, a smile on your face. you clutch your phone a little tighter in anticipation as he continues on about his day and what he had accomplished. it was routinely when he wasn’t home. it was enough for you.

you could see the furrow in his brows in your mind. the way his lips looked when he talked. the way he would lick them in between sentences. the way he would try to stretch his back.

maybe you knew his habits all too well.

“i can’t wait to come home.” he huffs, and you hear him laying back on a bed.

you sit on the living room couch of your shared house, “i can’t wait either.”

you knew quinn was smiling, “i love you, gorgeous.” his voice grew softer.

you closed your eyes and just listened, “i love you too, quinny.”

he grunts at the nickname, but says nothing about it. there’s a long pause between the two of you. as if you were both just enjoying the company of one another, even if it was over the phone.

you open your eyes and look at the time, realizing just how late it must be for him. “you should sleep.”

quinn huffs, “miss you.”

you smile and bite your lip, “i miss you, too. but i’ll be here tomorrow.”

quinn can’t stop the smile that droops on his sleepy features, “promise?”

“promise.”

“goodnight then, angel.” he yawns.

you smile again, “goodnight, quinn.”

the hang up feels dreadful, but your mind is consumed with the way he talked to you for the rest of the night.

his voice, the way you imagined him sprawled on the bed, his soft words.

quinn will always be on your mind. time and time again.

love is beautiful.

quinn wasn’t the type for slow dancing. but when it was just the two of you, dancing alone to the faint sound of a love song, he couldn’t help the way his heart swelled from the feeling of you in his arms.

love songs reminded him of you. you looked so graceful, a small smile playing on your face as you look at him. he feels the way your hands clasp tighter around his neck, and he smiles back.

his hands rest lovingly along your waist, swaying the two of you back and forth and around the room. quinn wouldn’t do this for anyone else. you had him in your grip tighter than you thought.

“you’re a good dancer,” you state, tilting your head in curiosity.

he loves the way your eyes shine under the faint light of the lamp in the room, “you’re better.”

quinn spins you around before pulling you flush against him. your chest pressed against his, breaths labored as he stops for a second to admire you.

you’re both in pajamas, and you want to think about how ridiculous this must look, but you honestly didn’t care. the way quinn was looking at you felt like you were the most beautiful woman on earth. and he believed that.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, starting to sway again, but never loosening his hold on you.

you lick your lips, eyes curious and wide, “so are you.”

quinn grins at the side of his mouth, noticing how nervous you were from the close contact. he loved how he could still bring out these kinds of reactions from you, even after being together for almost two years. he would be lying to himself if you didn’t make him react the same way. he can feel the shivers down his spine when you run your fingers through his hair in a soft, loving way.

quinn can’t stop himself from kissing you. his lips move in a languid way that makes your skin light up in a blaze. you almost feel hot, his fingers grasping at your waist with more fervor.

he loves the way you moan in his mouth, the sound vibrating through his body and making him deepen the kiss. he couldn’t resist you even if he tried.

at this point, the dancing has come to a full halt. the two of you more focused on feeling one another. you tug on his hair a bit, making him groan and pull away with wet lips.

“couldn’t resist you,” he gasps, looking at you with a goofy smile.

you giggle softly, and quinn can feel the way his heart picks up at the sound, “i couldn’t either.”

quinn could live this way forever.

love is patience.

quinn huffs as he slowly slides inside of you. and you lick your lips, looking up at him with a gorgeous glint in your eyes. it would be so romantic if only he didn’t want to completely ruin you. make a mess of your makeup.

you look at him with deer eyes, bright and wide. he lets out a small groan, eyes turning lidded at the sight of you as he bottoms out inside you. he patiently waits for you to adjust, basking in your glory. watching the way sweat starts to form on your forehead. he smiles to himself at the way he can get you so worked up with such little effort. you were truly made for him.

“tell me to move,” he says it in more of a question than a statement. you nod your head, signaling for him to move. he can’t help himself from pulling back to where only the tip of his cock sits inside you, before slamming back into you. the gasp that leaves your lips is worth it.

he sighs, leaning down to press his lips against your shoulder, earning a whine as a prize. he can hear you perfectly in this angle. your moans and gasps going straight into his ear. he closes his eyes in a flurry of bliss. the way you tighten around him as he slowly rocks his hips against your own makes him go almost mad.

he can’t stop the way his hips pick up in pace. he wants to make this last, he wants to listen to you beg for more. his prayers are answered as you whine, “quinn, please, more.” your breaths are shaky and sharp.

quinn licks his own lips, smirking to himself. “wanna make this last, baby.”

you writhe below him, making him groan as he feels the way you tighten up and take him in more. he places a hand on your hip, pushing you back down and tsking at you.

“where’s my good girl, huh?” quinn chastises, making your whines louder and louder. he soaks it in, before finally giving you what you want. he figures you’ve been patient enough. plus he was starting to lose his own patience.

he thrusts into you with feverish pace, making goosebumps form on your skin. “oh, god.”

he smiles, leaning back to look down at you and the way your eyes roll into the back of your head like you’ve seen god. he loves the way you gasp his name, telling him how good he feels. his cock twitches when you tighten up around him even more. his pace is turning brutal and he can no longer help himself.

“atta girl,” he whispers, “take it like a good girl.”

that was your undoing. you couldn’t help it. his voice was a mixture of loving and raspy. it made your inside tingle and your pussy clench around him. your back rises up to his chest as he finishes alongside you, his cum seeping inside you. you gasp one last time, out of breath.

“fuck,” quinn groans.

you smile, hands grabbing his shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss. “so good.”

quinn smiles in the kiss.

the patience is always worth it.

love is forgiving.

“i told you, quinn. it’s okay.” you look at him with soft eyes. quinn pouts at you.

“you said you wanted to go out to dinner tonight.” he sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed.

you shake your head with a smile on your lips, “no, no. i just want to be with you.”

you and quinn had reservations but an emergency came along and he didn’t make it home in time. he was so frustrated with himself, he felt a heavy weight in his chest. that was until you came along and eased his worries.

“i promise, quinn. there are so many more dinners left in our lifetime.” you sit beside him and kiss his cheek. he looks at you with apologetic eyes before kissing you slowly and softly on the lips.

“i don’t deserve you.” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again, raising a hand to your face to pull you closer.

you smile and pull away, looking into his eyes with a sparkle, “other way around, my love.”

he shakes his head, his hair shaking with him. “hush.”

he kisses your lips again, apologies lying within them.

he could never understand how accepting and loving you always were. and little did he know, you thought the same way he did.

love is forever.

quinn rubs his sweaty hands on his pants. he feels the heavy weight of the ring in his pocket. he’s waiting for you to come home. he doesn’t want to waste time the second you walk through the door, but he knows it’s best to wait for good things to come along.

he smiles and kisses you, embracing you in a hug. you exchange the hug, hanging your purse beforehand. you smile at him, nothing out of the ordinary for you.

you look into his eyes and see the most beautiful eyes you’ve ever seen. he looks and sees the same.

you look around and notice that dinner is already prepared for the two of you. you raise and eyebrow, “hm? dinner?”

quinn nods, licking his lips in anticipation, “yeah, thought i’d spoil you.”

you smile and kiss his cheek, “thank you, sweetie.”

he bites back a smile, but you can see it nonetheless. you walk to the table, looking at the array of food. “wow, this must have taken-”

you’re cut off when you turn around to a quinn hughes with one knee on the floor. you gasp, hand raising to your mouth. it felt like something out of a movie. your eyes were welling up with tears.

“my sweet, gorgeous girlfriend,” he starts, “this might sound so cliché, but the moment my eyes laid on your own, i knew you were going to be the one for me. i adored you the second we spoke, and fell in love the first time we kissed. i have many flaws. and i want to be able to share my future with you for the rest of our lives.” he opens the ring box, “will you marry me? make me the happiest man to ever live?”

you just nod, holding out your ring finger as you cry happy tears. you want to respond to everything he has said, but the most you can do is raise him to his feet as fast as possible and kiss him. the ring looks absolutely beautiful on you, shining under the light of the dining room lights.

“yes,” you whisper between kisses, “of course yes, quinn.”

quinn is the luckiest man alive.

quinn is ready for forever. and so are you.

a/n: so sorry for the long wait. and i’m sorry if it doesn’t live up to the anticipation. love you!

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes scenario #quinn hughes angst #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl players #nhl smut #nhl fluff #nhl angst

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letsbangts · 7 months ago

Text

tell me what to do || jjk

⤷ summary: when the familiar becomes unfamiliar what do you do

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ word count: 3.4k

⟶ genre: angst, established relationship au, breakup au

⟶ content: boyfriend!jk, big argument, talking about breaking up, the blame game, basically misunderstanding due to miscommunication

⟶ warnings: explicit language

↬ a/n: once again, this a very old piece I polished up. okay so this was my second piece of work so read with caution. I was absolutely obsessed with the song so I used the lyrics as a guideline for writing, I incorporated the lyrics into the story. let me know what you think i really appreciate feedback & recommend a song if you’d like and i’ll write a scenario with it like i did with this song :) angel xoxo

˖⁺. ༶ NOW PLAYING ༶ .⁺˖ tell me what to do shinee 01:43 ─✮───── 03:07 ⇆ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

masterlist ˚.⋆˚.⋆˚.⋆ join my taglist

these days, i don’t know, i don’t know you you look like you gave up on a lot of things but i hear your silent scream

You sit at the dining table drinking tea in your home, your home together, but lately nothing seems like yours anymore. It feels like there never was a you and him, never two people as one. You don’t even need to sense it; you can see it. It’s as though you don’t know him anymore. He looks like he gave up on a lot of things, and like he gave up on the two of you. You can almost hear him silently screaming for an end, your end.

lovers without extreme development is this the losing hand that time has placed? we haven’t ended it but it’s already over

Jungkook walks through the doorframe fully dressed, ready for his day, while sporting his slightly messy bedhead that he somehow manages to make look angelic. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed; you still see his beauty, and that’s something you don’t think could ever change. Because that is what he is, a beauty inside and out, that can’t simply disappear.

He greets you with a gentle kiss on the forehead, a soft “good morning” and a soft smile. You’ve been like this for a while now, stuck in this particular level of interaction, almost a routine. Like lovers without any extreme development, no more growth in your relationship, if you can still call it that.

“Did you sleep well?” you ask a bit apprehensively.

Jungkook picks up the coffeepot, while avoiding any slight piece of eye contact and pours himself a cup with the coffee you made for him, just another part of your routine. You’ve always hated coffee, its dull blackness, the bitter taste, the way it leaves a stain, how the smell lingers, and how it keeps you awake. But after Jungkook that view changed for you, its dull blackness suddenly started reminding you of Jungkook’s dark dreamy eyes, the bitter taste of it reminded you of his lips as that was your only intake of it, those stains it left was warmth around your heart, the smell was like being engulfed in his arms, and it allowed you and him to be up spending more hours together. In a way, coffee was like a representation of your love.

However, that love has turned black and bitter just like the coffee in his mug. The sweet smiles you both always shared and the bright laughs you used to hear between you vanished. He vanished, pulled away, and it was too late to try to pull him back.

“Mhm,” he replies, nodding while taking a sip, and like your love, it disappears as he swallows it down.

You nod with him and look down at your hands wrapped around your mug. Is this the losing hand that time has placed? Were the two of you just doomed to keep repeating the same routine with each other in denial, in silence, similar to the one you are currently sitting in a few metres apart, while you are living in different worlds away from one another? Neither of you has ended it but it’s already over. The two of you were already over.

He refuses to have conversations with you when before no one could ever shut the two of you up. He always seems to be a safe distance away from you instead of constantly messing around with each other to get a smile from the other.

there’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of us

As the bottoms of both your cups get revealed, so is your obvious stunt to prevent a conversation from starting. Jungkook places his mug in the sink and approaches you, and with just those movements, your heart races.

“Well, I’m going to head off okay?” he stares at you with an expression you struggle to read…it’s almost…apologetic.

“Yeah, I need to start getting ready anyway,” you say.

“Okay then, I guess I’ll see you later…” he says like it’s a question while picking up his keys and approaching the front door. It’s as if he is unsure you will return to each other, as if you are not one another’s home.

You hum in agreement, just as his hand is about to touch the doorknob, you realize he forgot. One of the things that you assumed had turned into second nature for both of you has slipped out of his head. Now, you’re fearing that you could be the next thing to slip out of his head, or even worse, out of his life.

“Jungkook?” you call out.

He turns almost too quickly, like having been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

“Yeah?” he turns with wide eyes.

You give him a look that speaks words only he could understand.

“Ah,” he sighs, approaching you.

Jungkook cups your face with two hands, hands that are all too familiar but feel like they belong to a stranger at the same time.

He gives you the kiss you had reminded him of. It isn’t necessarily part of your routine, but something you have always done. It was always your sign of love to the other before you headed out into the world, a reminder of your love.

A reminder that you think is much needed for you both.

He pulls away, still holding your face.

“Sorry,” he says and this time the apologetic look in his eyes is all too clear, matching his voice.

But as you hear his words, his ‘sorry’ seems to be for a different reason than forgetting to kiss you before leaving the house. But without thinking more, you just let it go.

“It’s okay. Get going now or you’ll be late,” you laugh softly.

And with one last kiss, he’s out the door.

There’s a knot that can’t be untied in front of you, both knowing that you should let go, kiss goodbye one last time, and walk out of that door and go your separate ways for good. But that is easier said than done.

Jungkook and you are both well aware of the fall in your relationship, but are also conscious of the love that will forever remain between you. The history between you is far too much for you both to walk away from. To take five years of memories and experiences with a person you’ve grown with so much that they have become an attachment to your life, to you as a person, is an unimaginable pain that you would both rather avoid.

It is also scary, Jungkook is the one thing you remember having through everything, he is essentially a part of you. The thought of becoming one person again is something you never pictured having to do again. In all your plans for yourself and the future, Jungkook is there beside you. You have become accustomed to considering things for two people; you couldn’t imagine just worrying about yourself, one person.

But as you consider what is right for both of you, all that comes to mind is that maybe you and he were better off as two separate people.

you don’t tell me but you want me to know you think that you only gave the words you threw at me because you’re too used to me

As the day comes to a close, you hear the door open and footsteps follow. The sound you used to anticipate now makes you tense. Nevertheless, once the owner of those steps and so much more turns the corner, your lips can’t help but leap into a smile that’s both relieved and nervous.

Jungkook takes off his shoes and sits beside you, with a space between you that visualizes everything you both have been feeling.

“Hey,” he breathes out as he settles into the couch.

You slightly hesitate, “Hey.”

You sit in silence but hear everything that needs to be said. An invisible weight piles up on both your shoulders, an awkwardness that has become usual between you. So you finally break it and say it. The moment you never believed would come and tried to avoid has finally arrived.

“L-Look, Jungkook,” you take a deep breath and continue, “We both know what has happened between us—“

“Ye—Wait, what?” he interrupts, eyebrows furrowed.

“No, it’s time we finally faced it, we’ve run our course. I suppose our time together was only supposed to be this long.”

“What are you talking about? I—“

This time it is you who interrupts.

“It’s just hard for me to let go of you, you just mean so much to me, but I can’t control how you feel.”

“Huh? How do I feel? What do you mean? What are you even talking about right now?” he rushes out.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep silent like you’re keeping some secret from me, I know. You’ve lost feelings for me.”

“No, you’re not listening to me—”

“Kookie, it’s okay, I’m a big girl. I’ve broken up with a guy before.”

“Break up?” his voice panicked, “Woah, just listen to me for one second, will you? Holy shit!”

Once again, you both sit in silence, except this time you can’t hear the silent words waiting to be said.

Jungkook shakes his head, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You think you know, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, not even close.”

“I-I thought—“ you stutter out, eyes widened.

“Yeah, exactly, you thought. Or is that what you want? Do you want to break up?” he asks, staring you directly in your eyes, his voice much softer with apprehension.

“I want to make things easier for you,” you reply in a whisper, head lowered as you fiddle with your hands on your lap.

He gives you a look as if you have just said something impossible to comprehend, as if you were both unaware of what has been happening between you for months. It’s like he has become so used to the act you both put on to ignore your downfall that he forgot it was an act.

“Easier? ” he scoffs, then laughs with zero humour, “Is breaking up something easy for you?” he argues back.

The fact that he was gonna sit there and continue to play this game even after you called it out sparked many emotions inside you, and the one that decided to emerge was anger.

“Oh, come on, Jungkook! We both know you checked out on us a long time ago.”

His eyes widen, and then he also snaps.

“Me? I checked out, are you being fucking serious right now? I know I have pulled away a little, but you didn’t give me any sign to do otherwise!”

“Are you seriously turning this on me right now?” you snapped back with a newfound boldness to defend myself instead of your initial plan to make this an easy conversation for him. For both of you.

“Well, I’m not going to blame myself, even though that’s what you’re trying to do. Just because you know me, you think that means you know all my inner fucking feelings. When it’s clear you don’t know mine or your own!” Jungkook says in a stern and loud tone that you have heard him use in the past, but never to you.

indifferent and painful words left deep scars on that day words that made me realize that i’m still a fool

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so easy for me to read your feelings if it wasn’t so blatantly obvious on your face and the way you act differently around me now!”

“And you think I started acting the way I did simply because I suddenly just lost all my feelings for you? You can’t be that clueless!”

The words thrown between you were indifferent and painful, which had already left their mark on both of you and only made you more frustrated. At this point, the distance between you seems bigger than the couch itself, and your heart feels heavier than when you thought you two were about to break up.

“No, you can’t stoop this low to make it seem like it’s all on me! And not knowing my feelings, how does that even make sense?” you blurt out.

“Seriously, I know when we first started having problems, we both started acting slightly different towards each other, but it was never this bad…” Jungkook’s voice is much calmer and less tense than it was a few seconds ago as he continued.

“But after my birthday, you know, after what happened, you just changed how you acted toward me, with me completely,” his tone turned the air serious, almost still. You felt it slap you right across your face, run right into your chest, knocking the air out of you.

“I-I did?” you make your way full circle back to stuttering.

The following words that come out of his mouth make you realize what a fool you are. At this realization, you can only tear up. Choked up, this time, your eyes are the ones that turn apologetic, while his gaze fixes on the floor before both of you.

He nods.

“You did. At first, it was just little things like not asking me to pick you up on my way home or not asking for my shirt to wear to bed. But then it turned into so much more.”

You look down, filled with a bit of shame. Until you hear a sound from him you didn’t expect, a chuckle.

“Just like that. It’s like you don’t want to look at me anymore, at the table, in the car; you even turn your back to me when we’re in bed. I used to catch you staring at me even when I wasn’t looking at you,” he smiles fondly at the memory, and it’s his turn to glance down at his hands.

Jungkook plays with his bracelet, one you got for him two years ago for his birthday. He shakes his head, ”It’s as if my presence makes you completely uncomfortable now,” his voice cracks.

And it is right then when you do too.

if only i can erase it if only i can

At that moment, you wished you could go back and do what he told you that you always did—look at him. Because once you look up at him, what you see breaks you. His eyes filled with tears, he is trying to hold back, a few escaping, but he is quick to wipe them away. It is the worst thing you could see besides witnessing you driving him away. It is you hurting him. If you could erase everything you did to make him think that you didn’t love being around him, you would, and now you could.

i took you for granted but just thinking of you not being there i don’t want to go through that my world would crumble

Although you may not be able to erase everything, you can change everything from here on to prove to him he has the wrong view of what he is to you. Jungkook is the furthest thing from just an uncomfortable presence. He is your best friend, your roommate, your chauffeur, your family, your lover and your home. Your everything. Even the thought of him not being in your life… your whole world would fall apart.

am i the one for you at some point, you were keeping me in check i said you changed a lot but i changed the most the one for me, i didn’t know but that promise keeps suffocating us time keeps lingering but our time keeps getting destroyed

The tears running down Jungkook’s face make you think he feels the same way you do; that he doesn’t want the two of you to end like this. Assuring you of your relationship, that he is the one for you, and you are the one for him.

“I’m sorry,” as you speak, he looks at you, and for the first time in a while, you both look into each other’s eyes with hopefulness.

“I said you changed a lot, but I was the one who changed the most. And I kept acting that way because I had made myself think that was what you wanted. I didn’t want to let you go, so I thought by doing that I would hold onto you longer, but that very thing is what suffocated us. It’s what wrecked our relationship and sent it down even further. We had so much time to fix it, but it just kept getting destroyed,” you say with two streams running one under each eye.

Jungkook finally speaks after what feels like a whole lifetime.

“It’s okay, I mean, it’s both our faults, though,” he sniffs, “We should have had this conversation a long time ago,” he goes back to fiddling with his bracelet this time, him being the one to break eye contact.

He laughs, again catching you off guard with the unexpected reaction.

“It’s funny, the one thing we did the most, even when we didn’t need to or weren’t even supposed to do, is what we failed to do when we needed to the most…talk.”

You couldn’t help but also laugh at the irony.

“I guess we took all those times we told each other to shut up when watching movies to heart,” you chuckle, and he laughs at your response.

that smile came to me, more brightly the cold hands became more warm two lonely souls met not lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely i’ll look into you again, i’ll place your breathing in my ears even if everything but us changes

Jungkook’s smile seems brighter now, more than ever. At that moment, the room seemed to be glowing.

You reach out and grab his hands,

“I love you. I have always and will always. I don’t want to give up on us, I never have. We’ve been together for too long to go back to being lonely, and I’d be an idiot to pick loneliness over you.”

You look at him the whole time, watching his expression with every word. You look through the tears in your eyes at him, and when you feel him squeeze your hands in his, your tears spill all over again.

“You are the only girl who has had my heart for years. I’ve never debated giving it to anyone else. I’m willing to do whatever it takes. I’ll get us back to the good place where we were before. Even if something has to change, I don’t care as long as we are the only thing that doesn’t,” Jungkook’s words were exactly what you wanted and needed to hear, enabling your tears to keep falling down your face, but now out of pure happiness, the pure bliss of the two of you finally back to one another. You were finally back to being one.

You pull him towards you by the nape of his neck, foreheads resting against each other. With your lips brushing,

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

He lovingly smiles back.

“I have always loved you, too.”

And those were the only words you ever needed to hear from him.

i hope you’ll tell me first don’t cry no more if your heart can see me don’t cry no more

Jungkook pulls you onto his lap, legs dangling over his. You bury your head in his chest, arms wrapping around his strong torso. His arms pull you into a tight embrace that signifies neither of you is about to go anywhere.

“Now stop crying, baby,” he teases you, and the only evidence of his tears is the red in his eyes.

“I can’t, they won’t stop now,” you giggle out past your sobs.

“It’s okay now, we know our feelings are on the same page.”

i’ll go to you first at the end of a different road i’ll wipe your cheeks that are wet with tears and ask you

“Now we just need to figure out where to start where do we go from here,” he continues as he holds your face again as he did hours ago but now the gesture felt completely different as he used his thumbs to wipe your cheeks that were wet with tears, you look into those dreamy coffee coloured eyes of his as you listen to the following words that came out of his bitter coffee flavoured lips that you can already taste,

“Tell me what to do”

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flemingology · 6 months ago

Note

i love soft ale 🥹 potential request if it sparks your interest: very early days of dating alexia and reader assumes she’s not a cuddly type so tries to give her space. realises alexia is in fact very much a cuddly type who’s asking to be lil spoon. reader teasing her cos how tf is the stoic woman i met a couple weeks ago the same one now making happy noises because i’m scratching her back??? 🤨

little spoon ─ alexia putellas x reader

in which: alexia needs a cuddle after a long day. she just doesn't know how to approach it

warnings: none

wc: 1.5k

a/n: been a minute since i published something! i've been very busy with my christmas series, but i got this request an hour or two ago and couldn't resist lol. hope you enjoy! (not proofread, sorry for any mistakes)

Alexia was many things. Sweet, thoughtful, caring, affectionate, considerate, dating the Spaniard was more perfect than you’d ever imagine it would be. It was still early days, you two had only been exclusive for a couple weeks, but you felt good with her. It felt right. Like you belonged together.

Every night, when Alexia finished rewatching footage or studying game plans, and you finished work for your marketing job, you’d find yourself together on the couch. Talking about anything and everything, munching on a meal either her or you cooked, nursing a glass of wine as the night went on. It usually ended in watching a movie or an episode from a show you were following together, a little routine you’d grown to love.

There was one thing, though, something that you found yourself feeling a little apprehensive about. Alexia wasn’t a cuddler. You loved nothing more than the prospect of cuddling up against your brunette lover after a long day of missing her at work. Alexia, on the other hand, not so much. Always an arm’s length between the two of you on the couch, never snuggled up in bed. She wasn’t very fond of cuddling close to one another. Or so you thought.

It wasn’t until one particular Thursday night, that you realised you were very wrong. Alexia came home late. A double training session, two tactical meetings and some media bits here and there led to a very long day, only arriving home a little past 9 in the evening. She dreaded days like these, especially since she knew she had a warm body waiting for het at home.

You were sat on the couch, immersed in the final couple chapters of your book, when you heard a set of keys jiggle outside the front door of your apartment. You glanced at the clock on your phone and frowned, knowing your girlfriend would probably not be in the best mood following the long day she had. You closed your book and left it on the coffee table, making your way over to the front door.

You noticed how slagged her shoulders were, barely able to carry the weight of the day anymore. She toed off her shoes and took off her jacket in complete silence before turning towards you and engulfing you in a tight hug. “Amor,” she breathed against your shoulder. “I’m here, baby,” you reassured your girlfriend, rubbing soothing patterns across her back.

You stayed like that for a while, only pulling away after a couple of minutes as you heard Alexia’s belly growl. “There’s a plate in the microwave for you. I made your favourite pasta. I figured you could use some comfort food after the day you had.” Alexia wouldn’t admit it, but you swear you saw some tears welling up in the Spaniard’s eyes. “Gracias, amor. I love you.” You retreated back to the couch after a couple more lingering kisses, soon joined by your girlfriend with a plate of pasta perched on her lap. Again, though, a couple feet away from you. You decided not to think much of it and put on a movie you’d started watching the other day, before you got interrupted by a surprise visit from Alba.

Alexia finished her portion of pasta in record time and stood up to put her dishes away in the dishwasher, the Spanish captain forever a clean freak. It had its perks, sure, but you weren’t exactly very fond of the scolding you’d get every time you left your dishes in the sink to clean up the next day.

She sat back down next to you with a deep sigh, feeling the weight of the long day slowly ebbing away the longer she was in your presence. “How was your day, bebé?” Alexia mustered up a small smile and turned her body towards you, her elbow resting on the back of the sofa, supporting her head. “Hmm, fine. Lots of meetings, a couple new projects, nothing out of the ordinary.” Your girlfriend hummed, trying her best to seem interested, but talking about your work wasn’t really high on her list of things to do right now.

In reality, she just wanted to bury herself in your arms and let the remnants of the long day wash away in your embrace. But she didn’t know how to. You’d never really… cuddled. She assumed it just wasn’t your thing, because you had never initiated it. Not on the couch, not in bed. She didn’t want to intrude, or make you uncomfortable, so she would usually steer clear. Today, though, she needed it.

Alexia shuffled a little closer to you and rest her hand on one of your outstretched legs, softly tracing her fingers up and down your bare thigh. You softly hummed at the sensation, her touch slightly ticklish. A couple moments passed and she shifted again, now nudging your legs apart a little and positioning herself in between them, but not facing you. You tried to catch her gaze, wondering what it was that she wanted, but she avoided any eye contact.

You didn’t hear her the first time, causing her to speak up a little louder. “Amor,” Alexia breathed, in a voice that you couldn’t describe any different than whiny. “Yes, baby?” You raised your eyebrows and met Alexia’s gaze, frowning slightly as you noticed the troubled expression on her face. “What’s up, Ale? You wanna talk about your day?” The brunette shook her head rapidly, biting her lip before she spoke up. “Can I lay with you?”

The question surprised you. Of all the things that you thought Alexia would want or need after a long day, you didn’t think it would be that. Alexia had never asked for a cuddle. She asked for hugs, sure, but never to lay close to you. You quickly agreed, wanting nothing more than to hold your girlfriend close. “Of course, baby. Come here.” You shuffled a bit further up the couch and nudged your legs further apart, leaving her space to crawl into – but she didn’t.

“Ale? All good?” The Spaniard looked up at you and you tried to read her gaze. “Can I be… how you say, the spoon?” You withheld a chuckle at her accent, forever endeared with the brunette whenever she tried to speak English. “You want to be the little spoon?” You asked, wanting to make sure that’s what she meant. It earned you a nod and a small smile, a sight you swear you’d never grow old of.

“Of course. Come here.” You shifted on the couch so your back was now facing the back of the couch, leaving some space for Alexia in front of you. She wasted no time in curling up against you, burying her face in your neck as she fished your shirt in her hands.

You didn’t quite know what to do. Alexia had never been like this with you. You weren’t complaining, not at all, you’d probably never felt happier in the past couple weeks of dating the footballer than now. Alexia exhaled deeply, nuzzling her face deeper in the crook of your neck as she settled. “Comfortable?” She hummed, pressing a soft kiss against the exposed skin where her head rested.

You shuffled and got comfortable, reaching a hand behind your girlfriend’s body and softly scratching her back underneath her shirt. Alexia nuzzled impossibly closer and you held her tight, tracing your nails up and down her back as the weight of the day slowly ebbed away.

You scratched her back until you thought she’d fallen asleep, her breathing evening out a bit, but you were very wrong. Your attempt at retreating your hand from underneath her shirt was met with an unsatisfied grumble and a pinch to your side, to which you chuckled. “Needy, are we?” Alexia scoffed, but it held no malice as you felt her lips forming a grin against the skin of your neck.

You once again started scratching your nails up and down her back. “Mhm, feels good,” Alexia mumbled against your neck. You pressed a tender kiss against her crown. You soaked up the warmth from Alexia’s body pressed so close to yours, your figures moulding together like you were made for each other.

You spent the rest of your evening cuddled up on the couch, eventually moving to the bed where the Spaniard once again curled up against you, this time her head resting on your chest and her leg swung across your midsection.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a cuddler, Alexia,” you teased, after giving her a kiss good night. “Shut up. I thought you didn’t like it. We have to make up for lost time.” You chuckled and pressed a soft kiss against her crown, closing your eyes as you soaked in the warmth from your lover. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

#woso #woso community #woso imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #barcelona femini #fcb femení #fcb femeni #spain wnt

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makeitworse · 2 months ago

Text

PUSH ME HARD

a looming scandal results in your resignation. as you begin a future seperate from ji-yong, it seems fate has other ideas.

⋆˙⟡ ibelongiiu part two 𓂃 c/w: fem!reader x sub!jiyong. angst | smut. age gap. conflict. miscommunication. breakup. jealousy. yearning. cheating. nsfw content minors dni

for months, you existed in a dream. you and ji-yong slipped into a rhythm, stealing moments together whenever or wherever possible.

it was exhilarating at first: a routine just between you two.

winking at each other across rooms, lingering touches during fittings. sneaking off to soundproof studios. never showing up to events together, but texting him when you’re ready to go.

soft laughter over late-night takeout in the comfort of his apartment. cuddling on the couch with the cats while you share a bottle of floral wine. sweet whispers in the sheets, waking up tangled in each other’s limbs.

on weekdays you were g-dragon and his stylist. on weekends you were ji-yong and his lover.

and in the quiet sanctuary of his music, you were his muse.

one particular night, you were dozing off with your head in ji-yong’s lap. he had one hand gently stroking your hair, the other scribbling away in his notebook. you listened to him softly hum for a while before you asked what he was working on.

ji-yong lulled you to sleep by singing the lyrics he’d been drafting. it was a stark contrast to ‘power’: the single he was planning to announce his comeback with later this year. this one was intimate— it’s all you.

“this is just for us,” he muttered after the last line.

he pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you believed him.

in the quiet, it’s easy to forget that you weren’t really free.

ji-yong didn’t want to have to keep his love for you confined within walls. he wants to hold your hand out in broad daylight, to treat you to haute cuisine, to kiss you amongst a crowd.

he didn’t want being with you to mean constantly looking over his shoulder. and he was getting bolder about it.

“let’s go somewhere,” he murmured one night, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “just us.”

you sighed. “ji, you know we can’t.”

he took your hand in his— eyes searching. “we could, if you’d let me take you.”

and there was the first crack.

you did what you could to compromise; wearing his jewellery gifts to work, allowing him to hide a polaroid of you in the back of his phone case.

he finally told his family about you: that he’d been seeing a girl from the industry. ji-yong even showed them the polaroid, and he gushed over how they thought you were gorgeous.

you let him take pride in these little instances of showing you off. because you knew you didn’t have long left.

preparations for his comeback have began gearing up. you’ve been running around all week, ensuring your team’s working as efficiently as possible— alleviating any stress from ji-yong that you can.

you’ve felt a crushing pressure at work; not just from the ensuing stress within the staff, but because this was the most important upcoming event in your boyfriend’s life. if it was less than perfect for him, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself.

all eyes are on him in the days leading up to his long-awaited return. and you can’t help but fear that you’re being too reckless; that people notice the way you smile at him, the way he stands closer than necessary.

the anxiety’s eating you from the inside out.

at the start of the day, ji-yong had an assistant grab him two coffees— one that he later handed to you in private.

it was a thoughtless gesture. second nature to him. but you could’ve sworn people were doing double-takes at the cup in your hand, most likely recalling ji-yong having the same one.

by the time a break came, you felt as if there were holes burned into your skin from the amount of eyes on you all day. you holed yourself up in your office to breathe, to scream or cry, whatever.

but it wasn’t long before your door swung open: ji- yong on the other end, smiling softly in relief.

you could still hear people bustling outside the door when he locked it.

you’d been bursting at the seams with anxiety; you finally had a moment to yourself to pop the cap off, and now ji-yong was here.

and when he reached for you, he got the brunt of it.

“you need to stop, ji.”

his hand hesitated in the air. he looked as if you’d slapped him. your stomach twisted.

“i’m sorry,” you sighed. you rubbed your temples, your head banging. “it’s just, people are starting to notice.”

he buried his hands in his pockets, leaning against your desk. his tongue was in his cheek as he regarded you. he was infuriatingly calm.

“what about it?”

you blinked. “are you serious?”

“let them talk.”

you scoffed. “how can you not care? they’re looking at me. they’re putting things together.”

his eyes flicker with something unreadable. “what exactly do you think they’re putting together?”

you let out a frustrated breath, pacing the small space. “they know, ji. how you look at me, how you’re always near me.”

you brought your thumb to your mouth, chewing on the nail while your thoughts raced. “we’re not being careful enough.”

he pushed off the desk, stepping closer. “is that so bad?” his voice was softer now, with something firm underneath. “that i don’t want to treat you like just another one of the staff?”

you swallowed hard as he approached. his words were gentle, but in his demeanour you could tell there was something he was barely containing.

“we can’t risk it.”

“i’m tired of pretending,” he admits, his voice low. “tired of hiding you. i don’t care if people figure out.”

“well i do!” you snapped. “you might be able to survive a scandal, but this is my career, ji. my future.”

his jaw clenched. “and i’m not there in that future?”

you faltered, slumping against the edge of the desk. you gripped onto the edge like it was your only saving grace from falling apart.

you instantly regretted striking that nerve. you knew what he went through in the december scandal. you should’ve bitten your tongue.

you watched as ji-yong’s expression shifted— less frustration, more… hurt.

“that’s not what i meant,” you mumbled. but the damage was done.

ji-yong nodded, pressing his mouth into a firm line. he rolled his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves. his nervous fidgets.

he stares at you for a moment longer. he’s waiting for something, anything.

but you don’t budge.

with a sharp inhale, he’s turning towards the door. you watch his back as he leaves— not sparing you a second glance.

and at the sound of the door slamming shut, your chest is heaving. you can finally let loose. you bite your arm and scream into it.

you joined a few staff in assisting gee eun at a peaceminusone collaboration meeting with a major fashion brand, seated around a sleek conference table at a high-end lounge in gangnam.

you kept to your role quietly: taking notes, observing, blending into the background.

ji-yong was there, too. but his attention was locked on the table discussion. unlike himself, there were no stolen glances, no subtle gestures in your direction. he was focused, professional. unreadable.

you had since made up from the argument in your office. ji-yong found you later that same day, enveloping you in a wordless hug. it spoke more than an apology could.

you haven’t talked about it since. there just hasn’t been time.

the meeting wrapped up smoothing, ending in handshakes and traded bows. you figured that was all, until someone approached you.

an executive from the other brand— tall, sharp suit, radiating confidence. you caught ji-yong’s head turn in your peripheral.

“i don’t think we’ve been introduced, sweetheart.” his voice was smooth.

you gave him a cordial smile. “i joined the styling team at the beginning of this year.”

his lips curled in amusement. the conversation started out harmless— small talk, inquiries about your role. you played along, because it’d reflect poorly on the team if you brushed him off.

“you’ve certainly got an eye for fashion, seeing as you’re here.” he mused. “i could introduce you to the right people.”

you’re about to politely decline, when he leaned in slightly, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“maybe over dinner?”

the moment the words leave his mouth, your body went rigid.

ji-yong was no longer in your peripheral.

you didn’t have time to think before you felt him— suddenly beside you, his presence unmistakable. and then he did something very stupid.

his arm snakes around your waist, fingers pressing in firm and deliberate. he didn’t even acknowledge the exec, his focus solely on you.

“we’re all done here,” ji-yong’s voice was smooth on the surface, but you recognised something simmering beneath it.

he spares the exec a glance with a smile so thin it’s practically a sneer. you felt his grip tighten— territorial. jealous.

the air shifted.

gee eun shot you both a sharp look. someone clears their throat. you quickly redirected the conversation, desperate for the moment to smooth over.

but ji-yong had already struck the match. heads had turned the moment he put his hands on you. conversations continued, but you noticed the barely concealed whispers underneath. and now his stunt was going to blow up in your faces.

the following morning, you’re startled awake to your phone buzzing at your ear.

you roll over and ignore the vibration— but then comes another. and another. barely a second between each one. you groan, blindly reaching for your phone.

the second you catch a glimpse of the screen, your heart sinks.

frantic texts, missed calls, urgent voicemails. you sit up so fast your head spins. you swipe through the notifications, reading off the names of coworkers, names you didn’t even recognise— as well as some of ji-yong’s personal staff. it’s all screaming the same thing: shit’s hit the fan.

[gee eun] call me now.

[jae] what the hell happened yesterday?

[unknown number] is it true? are you the girl?

your finger’s trembling as you scroll, trying to piece it together. where had it gone wrong?

[ji <3] baby please pick up

your stomachs twists.

you toss your phone across the bed, throwing your head into your hands. you pull at your scalp. you wanted to scream.

they knew.

the secret’s out, and people knew.

whispers had spread like wildfire— nothing concrete, just rumours passed from one person to the next, warping with every retelling.

it hadn’t reached the press yet, though it was only a matter of time. only a handful of people had a rough idea of your actual identity. and then it started spinning out of control.

someone showed up to your mother’s workplace, fishing for details. your phone was flooded with messages from strangers— some curious, some vicious. (how the fuck did they even get your number?)

ji-yong’s publicists were scrambling to get ahead of it, debating whether to release a statement to douse the flames. but he refused to act without talking to you first.

he was sick of playing the media’s game— of watching his life be twisted into headlines. no more hiding, no more damage control. this upcoming era of his career would be the rawest the world has seen him. if people are going to know who you are, it’ll be on his terms.

but you’ve had time to reflect.

the fact was, you worked under him. while he can publicly reveal that he has a girlfriend, the people around you will never see it as love. if the truth got out, which it always did— they’d say you blackmailed him, that he must’ve taken advantage of you.

you haven’t even started your career, and already, this was burying you.

you can’t gamble your future by being an idol’s dirty secret. you’ve got more ahead of you in life than that.

so you make the choice he refuses to. the one that makes sense, the one that his team don’t want to say out loud.

you called gee eun personally to resign from your position.

you ended up staying on the phone for hours, discussing where you’re headed next and how she can support you. you got vulnerable in speaking to her about your relationship with ji-yong.

she’d known, of course— the staff closest to him knew more than they were letting on.

because it’s not like you were really harming anyone; ji-yong had been showing up to work with stars in his eyes since you started seeing each other. but this wasn’t just a matter of a select group of people knowing and choosing to keep the secret anymore.

once that phone call with her ended, you stayed up all night sobbing. you wished you could’ve found him under different circumstances— maybe later in life, once you’d established yourself in the industry, and you were meeting on a similar level of status.

you were being ripped apart by conflicting emotions. you didn’t want to hurt him more than this, you didn’t want to lose what’s blossomed between you two.

but as bad as this situation already was, it could have been so much worse. you shudder at the thought of being the reason he has another public scandal. a blow like that to his image, just before the comeback he’s been working so hard for.

so you cut yourself loose.

you text ji-yong that it’s over, and block him before you can receive a reply. whatever comes of this next is none of your business.

the months since have been kind to you.

november found you in hong kong, standing beneath the soft glow of chandeliers at a chanel fashion show.

you’ve built something new for yourself— landed a position at a prestigious fashion company, climbed the ranks faster than expected (a glowing recommendation from gee eun certainly didn’t hurt).

you’re here on behalf of your company as a professional in your own right. no longer just someone’s assistant.

and most importantly, you’ve moved on.

you’ve dodged every mention of ji-yong since his ‘power’ comeback. no headlines, no interviews, not even a glimpse of his face in passing.

you’ve been strict to yourself in closing that chapter of your life. you grieved what you had. you accepted what it was.

besides; now you’ve got a new job, a new city, a new man. there was no reason to look back.

a sudden flurry of camera flashes has your head turning.

despite yourself, your heart leaps at the sight of him.

he walks in as g-dragon: draped in designer, surrounded by cameras and admirers. his presence is magnetic as ever— the kind that turns heads effortlessly. yours included, despite your better judgement.

your turn away before his eyes can find yours.

the event’s grand enough that avoiding him is easy at first. you mingle, engage in polite conversation, laugh when necessary. but whenever he drifted too close— once you could hear the familiar pitch of his voice— you’d pivot. step into another circle, pretend he isn’t there. hope your presence isn’t known to him.

but it was. how could it not be?

the first time your eyes met across the room, it’s fleeting; a brief flicker of recognition before you glanced away.

the second time, you make a statement of turning your back.

and by the third, there was no mistaking it— he was watching you.

the smile behind your champagne glass was fragile. your fingers around it felt clammy. you keep your voice still in conversation, but a part of you was hyper-aware of every shift in the room, every movement he made.

and then, as the show wrapped up and the evening died down— ji-yong had found his opening.

he slipped into your space so seamlessly, you didn’t even realise your guard was down. one moment you’re chatting with an associate, and by the next he’s there.

you freeze up at the sound of his voice as he apologises for interrupting.

“mind if i steal her away?”

a smug grin curves the corner of his mouth as your associate pardons themselves, leaving you to ji-yong.

you should walk away. really. but you know that despite your best efforts to distance yourself from him, tonight was always going to end with ji-yong catching up.

he says your name, voice quieter than expected.

“you look..” he starts, then swallows. his eyes drift across your body. “you look beautiful.”

you keep your gaze ahead. “thank you.”

he huffs out a laugh— short, humourless. he ruffles the hair at the back of his head. “that’s it, then?”

you finally glance at him. “what are you doing, ji-yong? i’m working.”

he shifts slightly. he’s fidgety with his hands, like he does when he’s unsure of himself.

“just wanted to see you.” he shrugs. “it’s been a while.”

you nod, expressionless.

he clears his throat. “can we talk about it?”

you hum, making a show of scanning the room. you were surrounded by camera flashes, models, designers. executives sipping wine just a few feet away.

“now? go on then.”

his jaw hardens. “i’d prefer some place quieter.”

“i’m staying here.” your voice is firm.

quiet places meant making bad decisions, and one thing leading to another. you both know how it goes.

he sighs. his features soften. “where did you go?”

“i moved on, ji.”

the nickname slips naturally. his eyes flicker with something imperceptible. you step back slightly, subconsciously trying to distance yourself again. it’s subtle, but he notices. of course he does.

“i wasn’t trying to force you..” he says quietly. “i just wanted.. i wanted to be honest. with you.”

“i still wanted a career.” it comes out bluntly before you can stop yourself.

ji-yong nods slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek. he’s trying to will himself to stay patient. to not get upset.

“i’m sorry.” your voice is so hushed, the words barely exist. “i didn’t want to leave.”

for a moment, you both stand there in the glow of the event, searching in each other’s eyes. you could almost forget you’re surrounded by people.

ji-yong takes a step closer. just one. he lifts his hand slightly— hesitant, wary— then reaches to smooth his thumb over your cheek. it’s a callback to the encounter that started it all. and for half of a second, you lose yourself in the reminiscence; the familiar warmth of his touch.

but then your eyes widen. he’s far too close. this is far too intimate. there’s too many eyes.

“don’t,” you whisper sharply, lips barely moving.

but it’s already done. you take a step back when you notice a few heads turn.

ji-yong’s hand falls to his side, fingers curling into a loose fist. there’s a glimmer of something behind his eyes— hurt, maybe. regret.

“yeah.” he says, almost to himself. he rolls his shoulders, shakes his arms.

you bite your tongue till it stings. you don’t tell him goodbye; you just give a shallow bow and leave before he can say another word. just like you did before.

back at your hotel suite, you kick off your heels and bee-line to the minibar.

you tell yourself you’re just winding down from the evening as you crack open a bottle of red wine; but you’re only lying.

the second the liquid warms your throat in a hasty gulp, you’re grabbing your phone. against your better judgment, your thumb finds its way to the blocked list, hovering over ji-yong’s contact.

you never actually deleted his number. you liked to think you slammed that door and locked it, tossing away the key. but you only hid it out of sight. his name even still had the little heart next to it.

it’s less pathetic than drinking by yourself. it’s just familiar company, it can’t hurt. yes he was your ex, and yes he also happened to be your former boss. that’s not to mention how horrible of an idea this was.

but you reason with yourself (or perhaps it’s the alcohol talking): you’re grownups. it’s just catching up over a drink, maybe even some closure. that was all.

you bite the bullet and text him.

[you] you around?

his reply is near instant.

[ji <3] where are you?

and just like that, he’s on his way to your hotel address without another question.

there’s a knock at your door twenty minutes later.

you skull the rest of your glass— even though the wine hadn’t been any help with easing your racing heart.

you glance at the mirror as you set your drink down: smoothing over your dress, brushing flyaways from your face. shame grips you as your reflection stares back. you shouldn’t care what he thinks of you, but suddenly you want to look composed. like inviting him to your hotel room didn’t even phase you.

you open the door.

ji-yong’s standing there with a hoodie thrown over his head and a cap pulled low. he gives you a small, almost uncertain, smile.

“hey.”

you step back to let him in without a word.

he pulls off his cap, raking a hand through his hair while you shut the door. you lean against it— like the room’s suddenly too small.

ji-yong scans over your room, eyes landing on the wine bottle on the nightstand. he scoffs a laugh.

“couldn’t sleep?”

“it doesn’t come easy to me, away from home.”

“i know.”

you look at him then, and you both smile.

it’s a reminder; you can act like strangers all you want, but he still knows you inside and out.

you move to refill your glass. ji-yong’s eyes follow as you pass by him.

for a moment, the only sound is the wine pouring into your glass. you cross the room to a small table and chairs seated by the floor-length window. ji-yong trails behind.

silence stretches as you both sit. you turn your attention to the city below: hong kong glimmers with lights, still bustling this late at night.

you glance back at ji-yong to find him only looking at you. he smiles. it’s warm, familiar. you missed it.

“you look good,” he says eventually, careful. “better than the last time we met.”

you don’t reply, instead raising the glass to your lips. there’s a tension— but not the angry kind. it’s loaded. you watch ji-yong’s brows raise as you take a hearty gulp of the red liquid.

“i’ve been a busy woman.”

“i’ve heard,” his voice perks up. “the styling team told me what you’ve been up to. said you’ve been killing it.”

you nod. “i’ve worked hard.”

“i never doubted you.”

you half-smile, swirling the glass in your hand. the weight of his gaze has been crushing what little resolve you had left. his eyes hadn’t left you since he got here.

“i noticed you ignored me tonight. twice.”

you raise a brow. “i only did it the second time, actually.”

that makes him chuckle. “right.”

you shift in your seat. the noise made your stomach flutter.

“i didn’t invite you over to rehash all—” you wave your hand at the space between you, “—this.”

“i know,” his voice is low. “but are we just pretending that you reaching out doesn’t mean something?”

“it meant i didn’t want to drink alone tonight,” you say, harsher than intended. “that’s it.”

he nods. you can hear him cracking his knuckles under the table, fidgeting with his fingers. “i can live with that.”

you both sit with it. the flicker of the bedside lamp casted a shadow across his jawline. his eyes are tired. he looks older, somewhat softer.

you offer your glass to ji-yong. he takes it with a quiet “thanks”, and you let go before his fingers can touch yours.

neither of you break eye contact as he downs the wine, sipping from where your lips did. you stand with a sudden need for distance as you walk to the window.

you don’t know if it’s just the alcohol warming you up, making your blood buzz. and you don’t know if it’s also what compels you to speak:

“i did love you then, ji.” you sigh. “i couldn’t ruin this for you. i had to go.”

warily, your eyes drift to ji-yong’s reflection in the glass. his jaw’s hard as he stares off into the wall.

“i ruined it.” he says finally. “i was selfish.”

you hear the soft sound of his glass being set down, then footsteps. and then his warmth behind you.

he’s close, but not touching. not yet.

he murmurs your name. “we don’t have to do this. i just… i’ve missed you.”

you glance at his reflection behind you. his eyes are low, trailing over your body. you turn to face him.

there’s a million thoughts racing in your head. you should tell him to leave, you should tell him that’s it’s over. you should close the distance and see what happens next.

“bad idea right?” he mumbles.

a grin tugs at the corner of his mouth, recalling what you told him before your first kiss. your eyes are trained on his lips. he notices, and they part with a sigh. you can hear how much he’s forcing himself to behave.

you’re not sure who starts it. it happens all at once, like something takes over you both. it’s instantly irrelevant who kissed first once your lips meet— your bodies melding together.

you’re quick to part his lips, and ji-yong groans onto your tongue. his hands come to cradle your face like you’ll vanish again if he doesn’t hold you. yours fist in the fabric of his hoodie.

your kisses are hungry, his are desperate. you’re panting into each other’s mouths. you tug him closer, rolling your hips onto his growing erection. ji-yong whispers your name like a plea.

his hands snake around your body like it’s second nature. you gasp as he grabs the underside of your thighs, his mouth trailing down your chin and to your neck.

you pull him in again to feel the imprint of his dick press against you. ji-yong sighs a moan before his lips close around your skin.

before he can suck a mark onto your skin, you push him.

“i’m seeing somebody,” you blurt.

ji-yong freezes. you feel a shallow breath fan your face. you can’t bear to meet his eyes, but eventually, you do.

his expression shifts. it’s not anger, or pain. it’s something you can’t read. the corner of his lip twitches.

then, calmly, he says: “then we didn’t do anything.”

you blink at him. his hands hadn’t left your body— but your silence had his grip loosening. you reached for the hem of his hoodie, balling it in your fist.

“you were never here.”

ji-yong’s jaw clenches, eyes darting all over your face. it’s a pact of silence; whatever happens tonight doesn’t leave this room.

with that, your lips come crashing onto his.

you’ve got a newfound determination. he was never here, right? nothing happened. so you want to get it all out of your system.

you’re eager with sliding your hand down, cupping his arousal in your palm. ji-yong’s hissing into your mouth, holding onto you like he’ll keel over.

kissing each other still came so naturally. kissing him was like breathing. and you pressed together impossibly close like you’re one body.

your palm’s hot as you rub over him through his pants. every little noise from him had you pushing your tongue further into his mouth, tightening your grip around his dick.

ji-yong was careful with his actions. he didn’t want to push his luck— finding out the hard way if you didn’t want him touching you. he was yours to take.

so he leaned against you, hands twitching on your waist as you palmed him. you were getting frustrated. there were so many things you wanted to get done, and chances are, he wouldn’t last through half of it. not when it’s been this long.

you cuss as your hand catches on a damp spot of pre-cum on his pants. ji-yong’s practically whining down your throat. for all you know he’s already close. you decide then that anything else could wait— you wanted the main event now.

you’re backing ji-yong into your bed while your hands fumble with his zipper. once the back of his knees bump the mattress, you shove him onto it. he’s staring up at you in awe: face flushed with pink, his hair ruffled every which way. you don’t waste a second in straddling him.

you tug at his hoodie, and he lifts himself to let you pull it off— revealing a tank top underneath.

your gaze lingers on his tattoos. he often layers his outfits, so it was a rarity to see any. particularly the ones inked over his torso.

it’s made the sight of his tats intimate, since you’re the only one who sees them when you’re getting his clothes off.

you’re too impatient to get the rest of his clothes off, plus your own dress. you settle on pushing his shirt over his chest, and hiking the hem of your dress up your thighs.

then, you turn your attention to ji-yong’s pants. the flyer’s open from when you unzipped them— and you can see how he’s straining against the fabric of his boxers.

his dick springs free as you pull down his pants and boxers together. you bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of him this hard for you.

you pull your panties to the side, taking ji-yong’s wrists in your hands. he stares up at you, mouthed parted in breaths as you sit up on your knees and line your entrance up with him.

you pin his arms to the mattress on either side of his head, while your heat prods at his leaking tip. you swallow a shaky whimper from ji-yong as you kiss him.

his hips twitch with the slightest buck before he restrains himself. in response, you drop onto him.

ji-yong’s mouth falls open in a moan. you don’t waste another moment in anchoring your weight, setting a hurried pace as you ride him.

it’s selfish how you’re fucking him; every rock of your hips has his dick hitting you in the sweet spot. he was barely moving in and out of you.

still, your heat around his dick had whines falling shamelessly from ji-yong’s mouth.

his arms were straining against your grip, but you kept them pressed on the bed. you could tell he wants to give back to you. but you’re focused on getting there on your own first— then you’ll be mellowed out, and it can be his turn.

you didn’t want him to touch you, either. ji-yong turns sex into an act of love with how he dotes on you: caressing your body, brushing his fingers through your hair.

if this got too intimate, you’d have second thoughts about it being the last time.

so you kept fucking him when he came before you did. you kept his back pinned against the sheets, his hands begging to be out of your grip.

you fucked him until you had enough. but even when you rolled off of him, hazy post-orgasm— ji-yong was crawling between your thighs, pressing a kiss to your clit. he was long past exhausted; but every moan he got from you only egged him on.

the night proved to be a long one.

you laid bare against each other amongst the tangled blankets. ji-yong’s fingers absently traced circles on your skin, nodding to sleep on your shoulder as you stared at the ceiling.

the room’s quiet for the first time in hours, but your mind was far from it.

the morning will come soon, sunlight pouring through the window being a glaring reminder of the reality outside that you’d been ignoring.

what then? a quiet goodbye? awkward silence? do you stay to wait for him or slip out first?

you swallow the lump rising in your throat.

your boyfriend’s face flashes in your head. he’s good to you— above doing something like this; curling up with the ex you swore you’d moved on from.

you tell yourself it’s just a one-time lapse. you need that peace of mind if you want to get any sleep.

you try not to linger on the thought of how easy it was to fall back into him. how right it still felt— and how wrong that is.

a/n: it’s hereee, i’ve been unexpectedly busy so it took longer than i wanted to write this. i’m going on a holiday so part 3 (the final!) will be out once i’m back. again, thank you for reading this far ♡

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dykeforhire · 15 days ago

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Innocently Enough | e.p.

Pairing: emily prentiss x afab!reader

Summary: after being together for so long, you do things out of habit. Sometimes, those habits still have their original effect…

Tags: (18+) established relationship, fluff and smut, teasing, vaginal!fingering.

Word count: 1.9k

read on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: something short and sweet to keep yall entertained... for the bush lovers, and those who like to play with them.

…

You lie behind Emily in your plush king-sized bed, an arm wrapped loosely around her midsection while the other rests beneath her neck, and your chin atop her shoulder.

The sun has just finished setting, bathing the bedroom in only a warm glow from the bedside lamp and the flickering TV screen.

Winding down together after a long day at work is a mutual favorite between the two of you.

After a shared meal and shower, crawling into bed with your lover and switching on the television is the final step in your nighttime routine.

Your hand draws lazy patterns over her tummy’s soft expanse, tracing her curves and faint musculature.

Touches like these aren’t rare, they’re something you do without a second thought. After so many years together, so many years of intimacy, friendship, and love, it has become nearly second nature to be like this with Emily.

Your hand drifts lower, innocently.

The pads of your fingers tracing along the crinkled hem of her tattered university sweatpants before slipping beneath.

She hasn’t got panties on, which again—is typical.

Your fingers find the patch of pubic hair that rests over her pelvis, combing through the soft curls. You don’t even think about how intimate the action is—how close you are to her most sensitive parts as you pet her absentmindedly.

Your eyes are trained on the screen, well-engrossed in the current reality TV show you and your wife have been binge-watching.

You almost don’t notice the sudden heat that has begun growing beneath the loose fabric.

“Sweetheart…” Emily mutters, her cool hand coming to rest atop your forearm, stilling your fingers with a hearty chuckle.

“Hm?” You hum in question, tilting your head slightly to meet her eyes.

What you find surprises you a bit.

Your typically very composed wife is looking awfully uncomposed before you, her cheeks flushed with a faint sheen of pink.

“Your hand, honey…” she whines shyly, her eyes darting away from your face

“Oh—sorry... force of habit.” You move to slip out of her pants, but her hand quickly wraps around your wrist, holding you in place.

“Don’t…” she finally meets your eyes, the dark brown of her irises eclipsed by black pupils. “You can keep it there.”

“Okay…” you chuckle softly, a bit confused, but nonetheless, you let your fingers slip back into place and rest against her mound, twirling the trimmed hair with the tips of your fingers.

All is typical for a long moment, your hand continuing its motion before letting your nails rake ever-so-slightly over the flesh.

A quiet squeak erupts from Emily’s throat, the muscles that rest above her pelvis twitching beneath the skin.

You turn to look at her again, connecting the dots.

This typically innocent gesture is turning her on.

You smirk to yourself as you turn your attention back to the television, silently noting the usual tells of her arousal. The glow in her skin, the creased brow, the picked skin of her lip from biting just a bit too hard.

The skin on your hand grows significantly warmer, palm sweating from the heat of her sex accumulating under the layers of fabric.

You lay your hand flat over her lower belly, brushing your fingers in a sideways motion before landing atop her sharp hip bone.

Emily shivers faintly as your nails scratch the sensitive skin, feeling the barely there curve of her adonis belt. She shifts then, her legs unfolding and one lifting to rest over yours, spreading her thighs apart for you.

The motion makes a flush spread throughout your body, and the confirmation that she wants you to touch her sends a sharp pang of arousal straight to your core.

Her breathing becomes shallow and unsteady as you glide across her pelvis and return the affection to her other hip.

You slide lower, letting your nails drag down the topside of her thigh before scratching back up. Her hips rise at the teasing, searching for more pressure—and it seems she's caught on to your game.

A needy whine slips from her throat as you slip down and cup the apex of her inner thigh, a gasp falls from your own as you come into contact with the sticky mess that's grown there.

"Shit, emily..." you groan, abandoning your teasing to press your fingers against her slick folds.

The older woman only whimpers in response, her hips raising into your touch. You turn to face her again, and this time, she meets your gaze, her dark eyes pleading.

The arm that rests between her neck and the pillow curls suddenly, forcing her body impossibly closer. Her breath fans over your face, gaze flicking between your eyes and lips.

"Please..." her voice is barely a whisper as she begs, and you can't help but surge forward and take her in a deep, passionate kiss.

A muffled moan vibrates between your mouths, and you can't tell from whom it came. All thoughts fly out the window as her hand grips the back of your head while the other covers yours over her sweatpants, pressing you harder against her sex.

You draw slow circles over her clit with the underside of your knuckles, spreading her wetness thoroughly.

You nip at her bottom lip when she pulls back to catch her breath, tugging it back and letting it pop back into place before laving your tongue over it. Her hips roll in steady time with your fingers, a choked cry settling between you as the pleasure overtakes her.

“Fuck me…” Emily pants, her lips parting with a silent moan. “I want you inside.”

“Yeah, baby?” You let your head drop forward, your temples pressing together as you turn to watch her body react.

Your middle finger glides between her folds, the sound of her slick muffled only slightly by the blanket. You tease her entrance for a moment, working her up, before sheathing it entirely.

Emily hums at the feeling of your finger curling against her pubic bone, finding that perfect spot with a practiced ease.

“More…” her nails dig into the muscle of your back, the sensation sends a prickling tingle up your neck.

Your finger pulls out of her, swiping at her swollen clit before slipping out from the waistband of her sweats.

“Babe—why’d you stop?” She muses, her brows creasing together, frustratedly.

You lean back just slightly, turning to face her as you bring your soiled fingers up to your mouth. Her expression slackens as she watches you, her cheeks burning bright pink while her eyes track the way your fingers slip between your lips.

You groan at the taste of your girl, the heady, familiar, and unforgettable distinctness you’ve grown so impossibly fond of over the years.

Emily’s breath catches in her throat, and a smirk crooks at the corner of your mouth.

“You always taste so good.” You croon, licking your lips before leaning down to kiss her again.

She responds immediately, her tongue lashing out at your lips and pressing its way inside. She kisses you greedily, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and pulling your chests flush together.

You moan into the kiss at the feeling of her body heat against yours, the hand that was previously in your mouth moving to rest atop her breast. You squeeze it gently, and you can feel her nipple harden beneath your palm through the fabric of her tank top.

Her hips jump as you squeeze harder; she’s always been so sensitive there. So responsive.

Shifting down again, your hand quickly slips beneath her top, teasing the underside of her breast before cupping it roughly. Emily whimpers as your fingers scissor at her nipple, rolling it between your knuckles.

“Fuck—if you don’t put your fingers back inside me right now, I’m gonna go crazy.” She whines, her chest heaving with the intensity of how turned on she is.

“So demanding.” You purr in response, giving her nipple one last pinch before sliding back into her pants.

“Just fuck me, baby. Please.” Emily’s voice is breathless, her body grinding and shifting impatiently.

Giving her a pitiful hum, you ready your middle and ring fingers at her entrance before pressing them inside. Emily sighs as you bottom out, her head falling back against the pillows.

Her hips start grinding into your palm almost immediately, you press the heel of it to her clit. The tendons along the column of her neck pull tight as she tenses, her face tautening with pleasure.

You shift your body lower in the bed, craning your neck to kiss her exposed collarbones.

Emily’s tiny moans and mewls urge you on as you slather her neck and chest with affection, pressing wet, sloppy kisses to her skin, tasting the savory essence of her sweat.

“Nngh—so good, baby… so good with your hands.” Emily pants, her hand clutching at the back of your head, thighs trembling as you fuck into her steadily, the pads of your fingers stroking at her sweet spot with each pass.

“You’re so fucking beautiful Emily, I love you so fucking much.” You practically growl, your teeth barred against her neck.

“Hm—I love you…hmshit.” Emily tugs you by the hair, lifting your face and kissing you hard.

It’s messy and full of emotion, teeth clashing and tongues curling against one another.

She grinds needily into your hand, chasing that sweet release. You can smell her in the air as you suck in a breath against her mouth, her arousal lingering on your lips.

You can hear the steady slap of your hand against her skin as you re-angle your thrusts, keeping the pace quick and steady while using your thumb to stroke her clit in a way you know will get her to the edge in just moments.

“Close, baby?” You murmur, eyes watching her face closely. Her stomach twitches, and you already have your answer.

“Yes—keep going, like that, just like that.” Emily cries, a choked moan following close behind.

You can feel her thighs start to tremble, her breathing coming in short, trembling, staccato bursts as she tumbles toward her orgasm.

Emily inhales sharply, her spine arching into your body as her face scrunches up as the climax washes over her. Your fingers keep their rhythm the best they can as her pussy clamps down, your thumb ceasing its mivement and opting for a solid pressure against the thrumming bud.

Emily’s body practically thrashes with the aftershocks as she comes down, shuddered breaths mingling with quiet moans.

Her shaky hands pull you in for another kiss, humming against your lips. It’s slow and deep, like she’s pouring every last drop of herself, her love, into it.

You ease your fingers out, cupping her with a flattened hand. You can’t help but smile, breaking the kiss and pressing your forehead to hers.

Emily hugs you tightly, kissing your chin before smiling to herself.

“You’re so good, baby.” She sighs, her hand stroking along the ridges of your spine. “Thank you.”

You hum in response, wiping your fingers on her thigh before bringing them up between your faces again. You brush her now, mused bangs from her sweaty brow that glistens in the low light from the long forgotten TV.

“I love you,” you whisper, nudging your noses together. “But next time you want me to touch you, just tell me…” your hand cups her jaw gently, tilting her chin up. “You know I’m easy, sweetheart.”

Emily doesn’t hold back the amused chuckle that bursts from her chest as she swats at your shoulder, the rumble of her laughter rocking your bodies.

“I love you too…” she cranes up, pressing a gentle kiss to your bottom lip. “And next time you want something to do with your hands, just touch me.”

…

a/n: hello little gay people in my phone!! i hope you enjoyed, more coming soon!!

taglist: @prentisslvrsworld @piiinco @xoxo-maryssa @prentissmultiverse @blackcatlesbo @teeshatequila @professorsapphic @decadentcatcrusade @classic-fangirl-emily-prentiss @wittygutsy

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #wlw smut #reader insert #criminal minds #dykeforhire fic stuffs #ao3

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indecisivemuch · 1 year ago

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~ Titles ~

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You are determined to steal the title of best swordsman from Luke. You proposed a spar, which led to unsuspecting confessions and an alternate proposal/offer. (fluff, pining, playful rivals to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: some sexual innuendos but nothing explicit. Violence? (you two sparred).

Note: he’s like one of my only age appropriate crush if I’m honest LMAO. The others are all much older 😭

Word count: 4k

You wanted many things. You wanted glory, you wanted to have the highest winning streak to capture the flag, and you also wanted Luke’s head on a stick…sometimes.

Oh yes, Luke has heard it all from your pretty mouth, and it does not get less amusing every time. In fact, the whole camp seemed to enjoy the banters between the two of you. At one point, it escalated to bets among campers on whether you or Luke would win against one another in things. Initially, both of you were shocked at the discovery. But when the surprise wore off, both of your competitiveness only amplified. Capture the flag became your guys’ war zone, and even silly things like who could finish chores quicker was a competition.

However, despite the rivalry being kind of playful, there was one thing you swore your heart upon winning - Luke’s title.

“Ah, well, if it isn’t the best swordsman,” you greeted as you spotted him approaching.

“If it isn’t the best flag captor,” indeed, you were always assigned to snag the flag due to your combat skills.

“And soon to be the best swordsman,” you added.

“You keep saying that but haven’t even gotten close.”

“I’m literally the second best.” The second those words left your mouth, you wished they didn’t. From the number of years you’ve known Luke, you could very well predict what he was going to say next, and because of that, you realized you just walked straight into his trap. You glanced up at the boy, only to see him already cheekily peering down at you with twinkles in his eyes - the sweet look of victory casting over his face.

“Ah, yes…second best,” the smugness interlacing Luke’s otherwise swoon-worthy voice made you scoff.

You never actually hate Luke, but neither were you two friends who hung out. You both were in different friend groups, rarely in the same space without making a quick remark or two, though they were all interlaced with a humorous undertone. There was a thin line between rivals and somewhat friends that you both mingled on without crossing. You would never tell him or admit it out loud, but Luke played a huge part in shaping who you are today as a Demigod. He constantly challenged you, which pushed you to take steps to become better. Over time, you two even slipped into a routine. You were each other’s sparring partners and, strangely enough, each other’s choice when it comes to quest partners.

You remember the first time Luke did it. Three years ago, you used to believe that he genuinely hated your guts and loved making fun of you for his own amusement. So when Chiron asked Luke to pick two companions for his quest, he named you without an ounce of doubt in his voice. You almost had a whiplash looking over at the boy who just called out your name.

“Not for long,” you settled on replying after rolling your eyes.

When you glanced back at him, Luke was giving you the look. The one where his lips were sculpted in a challenging and somewhat arrogant smirk, contrasting with the soft gaze that would always pair with it. It was as if he wanted you to know that despite his annoying habit of riling you up, he’d never cross any line that you would not let him, and he’d never push any buttons that you’d say were off limits. It was charming and sweet in a sense, though your mind dismissed that belief every single time and blamed it on your heart for being delusional. However, boy oh boy, your body reacted to it like Zeus has personally struck you with thunder every single time. Your lungs would collapse and malfunction for a second; your eyes would hold still and at him as if turned to stone by Medusa; your tongue seemed to have been frozen; your voice as if taken by Ursula. But amidst that mess, your heart would be beautifully embracing this feeling that it was harboring. It was something you never acknowledged or wanted to label because you knew it would be put into the universe as soon as you did that.

“I have a proposal,” you said, after forcing yourself out of that flustered state.

“I’m listening,” Luke crossed his arms, and you almost gulped at how they bulked up when he did so.

“We spar. If I win, I get the title of best swordsman. You win, you can get anything you want,” you named the terms.

“Anything?” Luke asked, tilting his head with amusement twinkling in his eyes as you confirmed by nodding. “Ok, deal,” he drew a hand out, prompting you to shake it, which you mindlessly did. Little did you know, Luke did it on purpose as an excuse to hold your hand, even if it was for only a split second.

It was sort of pathetic, and Luke knew it. But there was nothing else he could do. The only way he could ever touch you was either small actions like handshakes or getting punched by you. The latter happened more frequently as the two of you sparred together more. The both of you didn’t make a habit of hurting each other, but it was bound to happen when practicing combat.

As toxic and insane as it sounded, Luke was somewhat addicted to the infrequent pain that you were inflicting on him. One, because he got to feel your touch, albeit it was aggressive. Two, the worried look on your face - the closest he thought he would feel to you caring about him as much as he cared about you. Three, waking up the next day with purple bruises left by you, which, to him, was the only substitute for the type of purple marks he wanted you to leave on him.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you retracted your hand and got into position.

“Don’t you wanna know what I’d get if I win?” something in Luke’s eyes told you that whatever he had in mind was pure trouble, and he knew you had this urge to know everything. So you purposefully ignored asking about it.

“I don’t need to know, ‘cause that won’t happen anyway,” as you turned away, Luke let out a chuckle as his eyes softened at the sight of you. He knew that you know of the fact that he knows you well. Years of bantering and shy glances over your way when you weren’t aware has also taught him many things about you. Like how you prefer tabbing over highlighting your books, or how you’d always strike on the side first when combating others but would always change it up when it comes to him, or that your smile slightly tilted to the right when you are genuinely happy, or the fact that your love language was act of service because you were always going out of your way for the people you love.

At a far enough distance, you finally turned back at Luke but was caught off guard when you saw his sword already swinging at you. Years of practice forced your reflexes into action, and you caught his sword midair with your own.

“Woah, we never agreed that it started,” you yelled, pushing him and his sword away from you and yours.

“Do monsters wait for you to be ready during quests, sweetheart?” The mocking tone should not be affecting you the way it did, but it elicited this feeling of sheer annoyance and unleashed a hunger for victory. Luke got into a fighting stance as well, “Well then, ready whenever you are.”

You practically swung at him, and your swords clashed at an alarming rate to outsiders. But you two were experts at swordsmanship. Every move was quick and with ease. However, as Luke predicted, your eagerness to win was eroding your strategic senses. Taking advantage of this, he was planning to strike your armor next, aiming to create a mark on it. But you unexpectedly dodged down, and he was not prepared enough to change his course of action.

Within seconds of a gasp escaping your lips, Luke halted still as his jaw dropped in horror upon realizing what he had done. He called out your name, trying to come nearer to inspect the consequences of his action.

Thunder started sounding as the gray clouds finally cast water upon you two. You traced your hand along the mark that was left on your cheek, eying the blood that was now on your finger. As raindrops landed on your hand and diluted the substance, you realized your attacks in the last five minutes have been too impulsive and you needed to keep your emotions at bay.

“Y/N?” Luke called out again, though it reeked a new level of worry this time. Luke was afraid he had crossed a line. Despite sparring many times in the past, Luke had never caused harm to your face before. In fact, he has always been careful to minimize the injuries he would inflict on you.

Luke held back the urge to rub his hand over where his heart would be to soothe it as his mind wandered off to the possibility of you hating him genuinely and never wanting him around again. He never told you, but the reason he trained so hard to become the best swordsman - apart from for glory - was for you. He knew you were also good at it and hoped the title would make you notice him.

You averted your attention back to him and drew your sword up again.

“What? You’re scared you won’t be the only one who looks good with a scar on their face anymore?” you asked, arching your eyebrow.

“Oh, so you think I look good with the scar?” Luke bantered back, though you could tell there was an immense relief that he was feeling. Taking advantage of his distracted state, you struck again, but he managed to dodge just in time.

The fight went on for another twenty minutes. You were too focused to see, but Luke was surprised by how you chose to attack him this time. However, you miscalculated Luke’s next move and had to abruptly try to dodge his attack. But by taking a step back, you gave him the perfect chance to strike. Within seconds, he managed to disarm and send you to the ground.

Like the last thousands of spars, the tip of his sword ended up near your throat as an indication of checkmate. You knew you could make no more moves - definitely not without your sword. You lifted both hands up slightly in a motion of surrender, biting the inside of your cheeks as you peered up at him.

Right now, sweat and rain were dripping down the side of Luke’s face. They rolled down his scar - that goddamn scar that never failed to make you go borderline feral with visions of the kisses you’d bless them with if you were given the chance to. His dark, wet curls were clinging onto his forehead, and the same colored eyes gazed down at you. They were so cocky, almost condescending, yet so hot it made you want them to be kept on you forever.

You hated to admit it, but he looked so hot fighting you were willing to purposefully lose sometimes.

Little did you know, it drove him to the wall that you were peering up at him like this: cheeks flushed, heavy breath, and those goddamn eyes peering through your pretty lashes that could convince him to do absolutely everything you’d ask. The sight of you made Luke want to spill his guts and tell you everything he had been locking up inside his mind.

He extended one hand out to help you up. Like always, you accepted his offer and got up from the ground.

As you were about to let go of Luke’s hand, he slightly tightened his grip, and your heart fluttered at the action. He was staring at your guys’ hands in deep thought before softly rubbing his thumb across your fingers and knuckles. The way Luke delicately did so vastly contrasted with how he was fighting you during every spar. For a second, you wondered what it would be like to be loved by him and be held so tenderly.

“It’s okay, you know…” Luke spoke, breaking the peace from the sound of rain hitting the soil beneath them.

“What? Be defeated?”

“You may be the second-best swordsman in this camp-”

“Geez, thanks for reminding me that I’m only second best,” you playfully commented.

“But you’re first place...in here.” Luke pointed right at his heart using the hand that was not on yours. You stare at it with your mouth slightly agape.

“Stop playing around with me,” you almost stuttered, refusing to believe Luke was not trying to fool you for a quick laugh.

“I’m not,” Luke rebutted and pulled your hand towards his chest, causing your heart to flutter at the action. But unlike that small kick in your heart, when your palm lay between Luke’s hand and his heart, you could hear his heart beating like an engine that had lost control. Your jaw fell agape at the contact and the speed of his heartbeat. When you looked up at him, the earnest look on Luke’s face made you know that whatever he was planning to say was indeed from his whole heart.

“Third week at camp, I got knocked down by this much older kid during capture the flag, who wanted to maim me for some reason. You swept in, pushed him into the lake nearby and pulled me to run away with you before that kid could get out of the water and chase after us. It felt like I was lovestruck or something, but I could not keep my eyes off you after that. Somehow, you always draw my attention in any crowded room,” Luke blushed at his confession, shyly avoiding eye contact with you. “But after that, I think you sort of forgot who I was because you weren’t acknowledging me at all, and so the fifteen-year-old me thought maybe I needed to throw sarcastic remarks or say stupid things to make sure that my crush would remember me and know that I exist. Hence-”

“The banters,” you finished off for him.

“And the rivalry. It’s pathetic, I know,” Luke added.

You were in awe of viewing things from Luke’s perspective. Because from your side, you did remember that day very vividly. The reality was you were too nervous to interact with the boy again after the incident, growing shy at the thought of talking to a cute boy. So you pretended that nothing had happened.

“Fast forward to when I returned from that quest that gave me the dragon scar. People weren’t exactly different, but I could feel that they were somewhat tiptoeing around me as if I was…damaged,” Luke’s eyes hollowed for a second, and you could see that he was being sucked back into the memories. But his absent state of mind didn’t last long, and his eyes lit up again as the boy continued, “But you were the one thing that did not change. You didn’t treat me any differently. Your remarks and blunt insults became fresh air for me. I never told you, but every time we interacted back then - every time you talked to me, insulted me, or even looked at me, it felt like…I could finally breathe in that suffocating time period. Seeing you suddenly became necessary, and I think that was when I realized…”

With your hand on Luke’s chest still, you could feel his heart start beating even faster, if that was possible, as if trying to break free from his ribcage.

“I think that was when I realized I was in love with you,” Luke’s words came out as a whisper, like an oath too sacred to be said out loud. That is not to say he wasn’t afraid to shout it out from a rooftop. Luke just wanted his first time saying it to be for your ears only. For every single time after, Luke would make sure that his words and actions were heard loud and clear to you and others, if you would let him.

You almost could not believe your own ears. For the first time ever, you saw Luke look so vulnerable. He was usually so sure of himself, almost always overly confident whenever he was around you, just to irritate you with an inflated ego persona. But right now, it felt like the curtains were closing, and nothing was left but him with his heart in hand.

This was who Luke Castellan really was - under all the armor and titles.

And he was in love with you.

You opened your mouth to say something, but words froze. You weren’t sure what to say because you believe that whatever it is you utter out wouldn’t be able to top Luke’s words. You frowned as the sparks in Luke’s eyes dulled slowly. You could feel his hand keeping yours on his chest slipping slightly. At this, you flipped your hand around to hold his in place.

“Eleven months after you arrived at camp that I…” you paused, gulping as you tried to find the words, “This boy, he tore my favorite book apart because I defeated him during a spar and “embarrassed him” in front of everybody. He’s an absolute coward, too, because he brought his buddies along, knowing he would have never won one-on-one against me. So, he had his friends hold me still as he punched me in the face and stomach repeatedly.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed at the story. Of course, he remembered the incident. He only wished he had been there when it happened rather than in the aftermath.

“You found me bloody and bruised while I was heading to the infirmary. I was convinced you hated me back then because of all the sarcastic remarks I thought were genuine insults. So I thought you would just ignore me. But no, you stopped me. For the first time ever, I saw who you seem to really be: this caring and protective person. You were stubborn and determined to know what happened, even though I said it was not a big deal. Then you wrapped up my wounds in the infirmary wordlessly and would not leave my side until you walked me back to my cabin, where I finally told you who was behind it all.”

“Then, the next day, I found a new copy of my favorite book, candy, and new book tabs on my bedside. Later that day, I found out that his whole friend group, including him, had their hair dyed bright pink with dozens of bruises and cuts on them, and they could not even look at me. And I just knew it was you who had done all this for me, which changed how I see you - and us.”

“Is that why you left me your dessert for a month straight? After I lost dessert privileges for maiming those guys?” Luke asked.

“I did no such thing,” you tried to lie. Indeed, you were the mysterious person who left desserts next to Luke’s bed for the month after the incident. Even though you never told him, he knew it was you, and the look he was giving you right now conveyed he very well did not believe your denial.

“What I’m trying to say, Luke Castellan…is I think my heart might be a little too fond of you as well,” Luke’s jaw dropped slightly at your words. His heart almost spiked completely, losing a beat as if you caused him to flatline from bliss. Then, something glossed over his eyes, and you fully recognized it. The glint of mischief always presented itself before he said something cheeky to you.

“You know, I think I’ll cash in my prize now. I did win after all,” Luke referred to your original spar deal. You huffed at his words and the cheeky grin he was offering you.

“Ah, right. So, what is it that you want?” Luke untangled his hand from yours and used both to cup your face slowly but surely.

“Hmm, you did say “anything”,” Luke muttered as he glanced down at your lips, which made you subconsciously licked them. However, your action made him let out a quivering breath. Even though it was somewhat dark, you could still see that his eyes were dilated. You were pretty sure yours were as well.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” Luke was holding your face like it was the world that he had in his palms.

“Yes,” you answered almost without hesitation, and he smiled at that. “Kiss me, Castellan,” you tugged Luke’s shirt, pulling him towards you, and almost immediately, he clashed his lips against yours.

Years of yearning were unleashed as you two practically melted in each other’s hold. The rain only added passion to the kiss, like fuel to the fire. Luke lightly backed you against a tree with one hand at the back of your head, shielding it from hitting the tree trunk too hard. Slowly, his other hand trailed down from your cheek to your hips. There were so many words he was seemingly trying to convey to you through his kiss. It was as if he was making a promise upon the love he intended to deliver to you.

One of your hands tangled in Luke’s curls, twirling them around your fingers like it was their intended purpose to exist for. The other was on his cheek, your fingers subconsciously rubbing over his scar ever so delicately, as if they were gold to be treasured rather than a blemish to be ashamed of. Luke faintly shivered at your action, growing ever so breathless at the way you touched him, wanting to scowl at himself for being affected in such a way.

Luke pulled away first, and you could not help but grin at the sight of him: swollen plump lips, messy dark hair, and a hue of pink dancing across his face. He cupped your face with both his hands again before leaving a small kiss on your cheek near where he had split your skin and drew blood.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know? It may not be today, but someday, I will get the title of best swordsman if it is the last thing I do. Me losing today does not mean I’m giving up,” you said, hands still playing with his hair lovingly despite the stubborn declaration.

“I would not expect any less,” Luke replied, though wanting to add ‘if anybody were to take this honorable title, I’d want it to be you,’ yet he did not utter his thoughts. You breathed out a chuckle at his words.

“And yeah, maybe someday you will get that title,” Luke paused, taking a deep breath. You could feel how his chest seemed to stutter as his cheek heated up.

“But for now, will you settle with the title of being mine?” you almost swooned at his words and the smile that he was giving you. If only you knew, he would give you all the titles you want: best swordsman, best counselor, his, and - if someday you would ever want it - his last name, as crazy as it sounded. Hell, maybe he’d take yours.

“Yes, only if you’d also have the title of being mine.”

“I’ll wear it with honor and never surrender it unless you ever deemed me unworthy of the title,” Luke replied, grinning down at you like he had no intentions of ever letting you go.

“Never,” you grinned up at him, hands cupping his face before drawing him into another kiss, sealing the deal of forevermore.

———————————

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dreamescapeswriting · 9 months ago

Text

Worth The Wait ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 3.3K

GENRE: established relationships, old friends to lovers, soft, sweet, cute, yoongi having a crush, dancer reader, reunited, kiss, soft, sweet

PAIRING: Yoongi x Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

a/n: i hope i did this right for you? I lost the original screenshot and im so scared this is all wrong <3 I did try my hardest with it so I hope it comes across that way. This was for the "american" yoongi song request.

You were a talented dancer on BTS's American tour, every time they came to the US you were on the team first of who they wanted on stage. It was something that made you tingle every time you got the call that you were asked to come back for them. After working with them for the first year you'd gotten pretty close with Jimin and Hoseok. You figured it was because the three of you were naturally born dancers but there was nothing more there than friendship between you.

However, what you didn't realize was that over the years of working closely with each of the boys, Yoongi was harbouring a crush on you and it was getting closer and closer to the end of the tour and he could feel his chance with you slipping away before his very eyes.

Yoongi had sat quietly in the back of the rehearsal studio, watching as you and Jimin executed your routine with synchronized grace. The two of you had been working on the routine for filter which only made Yoongi feel a little more jealous at the thought of Jimin having his hands all over you.

You were dazzling under the dim lights, every move captivating him in ways he couldn’t explain, his heart raced with every move of your body, his palms sweaty as he imagined himself being the one to dance with you instead of Jimin. He sighed deeply, realizing he had it bad and that there was no way out of this for him, not without confessing at least. But how could he even do that?

There was the chance you'd shoot him down or even laugh in his face and then you'd never want to work with them again. He wasn't going to risk you losing the gig you loved because he found himself falling for you.

"You should say something," Hoseok whispered as he dropped down beside Yoongi, Yoongi quickly tore his gaze away from you and acted as though he had no idea what Hoseok was talking about.

"We all see it, Hyung," Hoseok smirked, Yoongi narrowed his eyes at the younger man and shook his head trying to play dumb.

"See what?" He mumbled a little as you finished your routine with Jimin and he cursed himself for not watching you smile at the end. Your smile at the end of every dance was the largest and he'd give anything to see it every single second of the day if he could. There was something about it that just made his heart race and his skin clammy.

"The way You watch her," Hoseok was at least trying to keep his voice down since there was a chance you'd be able to hear him if you were close enough.

"You make me sound like a freak," Yoongi grumbles, running his hands through his hair. Did he really watch you that much? Did you even notice him the way that he noticed you?

God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ever gotten like this over a girl but it must have been when he was in school.

"No, but we all notice the way you watch her. How you're always there in case she's coming to practice. You didn't even have to be here today," Hoseok chuckled softly and Yoongi felt his skin heating up. It was true, he didn't need to be here for today's practice but he'd thrown in the excuse that he wanted to come for one practice before tomorrow.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow for stage practice," You called out, throwing the boys a giant smile, you glanced in Yoongi's direction and waved. Your smile shifted from the bright one you'd given the rest of the boys to a small shy one for Yoongi and he felt his skin heating up more as he waved goodbye.

Jimin, ever perceptive, noticed and rushed straight over to Yoongi and smirked at him.

"Don't-"

"You’ve been staring at Y/N a lot lately, hyung," Jimin said as he looked at him, Yoongi's cheeks were now a bright red colour as he shook his head,

"I was just telling him this," Hoseok laughs softly, earning a glare from Yoongi,

"What? No, I was just… watching the choreography." Jimin laughed, taking a seat beside him as he wrapped his arm around his shoulder and shook his head.

"You’ve been watching her more than the choreography." Yoongi paused, knowing Jimin wasn’t wrong and that he'd been caught by not just Hoseok but by Jimin as well. He had developed feelings for you over the past few months, and it had become harder to keep them to himself. Harder to stop himself from watching you or being near you when his body cried out to be close to you every single second of the day,

"Okay, maybe I have a bit of a crush," Yoongi muttered to them both before they exchanged grins,

"A bit? Hyung, you barely even watch our rehearsals anymore unless she's involved." Jimin laughed softly at him, earning an eye roll from Yoongi but a small smile tugged on his lips.

"I don’t know what to do about it though. She’s close to you and Hoseok, and I don’t want to mess anything up. What if I ask her out and she never works with us again? I don't want to take her dream away from her..." He trailed off as the boys looked at him.

Jimin looks at him. It was something that he worried about as well knowing his friend had a crush on someone they worked so closely with but if he didn't try he wouldn't know.

"You like her a lot, right?" He asked as Yoongi nodded his head. He might even love you but he wasn't going to say that to anybody else just yet.

"Y/N’s great, and honestly, I think you should just go for it. Why don’t you invite her to be part of the team permanently? Keep her on tour...See where things could go from there." Jimin shrugged. It wasn't completely unheard of, people had been asked to follow them on tour before.

"As a dancer, you mean?" Yoongi looked at him and Jimin smirked,

"Well, maybe more than just that." Jimin nudged him a little.

"But invite her...See what she says and see what happens along the way?" Hoseok told him this time making Yoongi bite his lip as he considered it.

He knew that being with you would require more than just asking you to stay and go on another tour with them. The two of you came from different worlds—different cultures, and he wasn’t sure if you would even be interested in being with someone like him in the long run but it was always worth a shot. Right?

After the show the next night Yoongi ran over to you, he was already high from his adrenaline rush from the stage and he didn't want to lose the courage he found himself swimming in right now.

"Y/N, can we talk for a minute?" You looked up, surprised but curious, it wasn't like Yoongi to seek you out on his own after a show. Usually, he would drag one of the others along with him, or so you'd noticed. You nodded at him as you drank from your water bottle trying to catch your breath from the dance you'd just finished.

"Sure, what’s up?" Yoongi hesitated for a moment, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. The adrenaline he'd just had was now gone as he stared at you, he swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't used to being so vulnerable, but something about you made him want to take the leap.

"I was wondering… once this leg of the tour is over, would you consider staying on with us? I mean, joining us for the rest of the tour? I-In Korea and everywhere...else" You blinked, clearly surprised by the offer. You'd always loved the idea of travelling the world and getting to do what you loved while you did it,

"You mean as a dancer? Wow, I’d love that. But… why are you asking me personally? I thought Jimin or the managers would handle that kind of thing." Yoongi cleared his throat as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly feeling more anxious than he was before.

"It’s not just about dance. I want you to stay… because I like you. More than just as part of the team." The silence that followed made his heart race, did he freak you out? What if you just started to laugh in his face? You were quiet, processing his words as you stared at him.

The truth was, you'd had a crush on Yoongi for the longest time as well but you'd seen first-hand what this life did to people and how people in your position handled relationships. It wasn't something that could easily happen.

"Yoongi… I didn’t see this coming, honestly. You’ve always been so quiet around me. But there’s something you should know." You didn't want him to feel alone in the way he felt but you also didn't want him to think you were just going to rush into something with him. Things like these take time. He looked at you, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I like you too, but I’ve been thinking about this a lot. We’re from such different cultures, and that could be tricky. I’ve seen what being in the spotlight does to relationships, and with you going to the military soon…" You trailed off a little. You knew as soon as this tour was finished he was going to be gone for two years. Yoongi’s heart sank at the mention of his upcoming enlistment, but he nodded, understanding your hesitation.

"I get it. You’re right. But I still want to try...If you're willing to..." You felt your heart melt at how unsure he seemed and you smiled softly, your expression full of warmth. You stepped closer to him, your hand brushing his.

"How about this—we give it time? I join you guys on tour...We hang out more, get to know each other and Once you finish your military service, we can see where we’re both at. I don’t want to rush anything and risk hurting you or myself." Yoongi felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It wasn’t a rejection, but rather a promise of something more when the time was right.

"That sounds… fair. But I’ll hold you to that, Y/N." You smirk at him as you nod your head.

"Have management talk with my manager and I'll join you on tour...But I mean it, it's just hanging out...just friends for now. Okay?" You gave Yoongi a pointed look as he blushed a little more, nodding his head before practically racing to tell the boys the good news.

The rest of the tour continued smoothly, and your connection to one another only grew stronger. The two of you found each other spending almost every single night together, even on the nights Yoongi was working you'd found yourself in his hotel room while he worked on his laptop and you relaxed on the sofa. Talking all night long. Going out to dinner every now and again.

The two of you claimed it was hanging out as friends but anyone could see it was much more than that. The closeness you shared was hard to deny. he laughed at all your jokes, you laughed at all of his. He made you feel as though you were the only woman in the whole world and you were pretty sure if he kept it up you were going to fall more in love with him than you already were.

Because you knew that's what you were. In love. But you weren't ready to admit it to him just yet, not when you knew he was going to be leaving for two years with hardly any contact with you. Though, he had promised you he was going to be writing you letters once a month so he could keep you up to date on everything he was going to be doing.

"I’m going to miss this—the adrenaline, the excitement of the stage. But I think I’ll miss you more." You admitted on the last night. The two of you were sitting in his hotel room having the biggest burger you could order off of the room service menu. In Yoongi's words, he told you to "go big or go home" deciding he wanted to spend his last night having trashy food, trashy movies and being close to you,

"I’ll miss you too. But knowing you’ll be here when I get back… it makes it easier." His hand reached out to touch yours and you felt your heart racing at the same time as it breaking.

You hadn't expected to fall so hard and so quickly for him and yet now you found yourself wanting to keep him close to you.

"You promise you'll write?" You hated that you sounded so vulnerable as you asked him this. He didn't owe you anything, hell, he could just forget all about you while he was away if he wanted to but you craved his connection with you.

"I promise, Yn." He whispered, hearing how unsure you sounded. His fingers ran along your knuckles softly as the soft tapping on the door let you know your ride was there.

"I have to go," You look at him as you bite your lip a little. All day you'd been debating with yourself about if you should kiss him or not but you were through waiting.

You leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, your heart practically leaping into his hands and waiting for him to accept it. It was sweet, tender, and full of promise.

"I’ll be waiting for you, Min Yoongi. And when you come back, I expect another one of these." You whispered against his lips, your foreheads resting against one another as the tapping on the door grew louder, signalling the other person's impatience for you. Yoongi chuckled softly, his heart full despite the bittersweet goodbye looming over them.

"Deal." He whispers as you slowly get up, dragging your bags to the door and giving him a sad wave goodbye.

It had been 21 months. Almost 639 days since Yoongi had been in service and as promised he had written you a letter once a month and had sent you a package on your birthday. Though you had done the same for him, sending him his favourite snacks from your village so he could get a taste of you while he was away. But today was the day.

You were finally going to see each other after being away and you couldn't decide if you were anxious about seeing him again or if you were so excited your body took it as a sign of anxiety.

The air was chilly despite the warmth of the early spring afternoon. The crowd outside the base was thick with families, friends, and loved ones, all eagerly awaiting the return of their soldiers. You stood among them, your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow bursts as your eyes scanned the sea of faces.

The anticipation was almost unbearable—two long years had passed since you had seen Yoongi in person, and now, in this very moment, he was somewhere among the crowd.

But you couldn’t find him.

You moved through the crowd, your chest constricting with every second that passed. What if you missed him? What if he had left before you could even catch a glimpse? Anxiety crept in, and you felt the weight of the past two years settle heavily on your shoulders. You'd promised yourself that you were going to be patient, that this moment would be worth the wait, but the fear of not seeing him right away gnawed at you.

You pushed your way through more people, your hands trembling slightly as you clutched the edges of your jacket, well, his jacket. He'd sent you one so you could wear it and smell him, be close to him kind of. You could feel tears threatening to spill over as you continued to look through the crowd unable to find the man you loved.

Just when you were about to give up hope, you heard a familiar voice—low, smooth, and full of warmth.

"Looking for someone?" You whipped around, your breath catching in your throat. There he was. Standing just a few feet away, dressed in his military uniform, looking a little older, a little sharper, but still unmistakably him. You drank in his appearance, unable to get enough of him as you whimpered a little.

Yoongi’s eyes softened when they met yours, and in that moment, the world around them seemed to blur into nothing. This was everything he'd been dreaming about for the last few months of his service, and nothing could have prepared him for it. You felt the tears welling up again, but this time they weren’t from anxiety—they were from sheer relief and joy.

"You… I couldn’t find you. I thought—" You choked out a laugh but before you could finish your sentence, Yoongi closed the distance between them in just a few steps. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the ground, pulling you into a tight embrace. You let out a small gasp as he spun you around, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. All you could focus on was the feeling of Yoongi’s arms around your body, solid and real. When he set you down gently, he didn’t let you go. Instead, he tilted his head down, his eyes gleaming with the warmth you had missed so much.

"I told you I’d return that kiss." But before you could respond, he kissed you deeply, his lips soft but firm against yours. The kiss was nothing like the sweet, tentative one you had shared before he left. This one was filled with the weight of two years’ worth of longing, of promises kept and the joy of being together again.

You melted into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he held you close, the kiss lasting long enough to make you dizzy but in the best possible way. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath.

"You did. And it was worth the wait." You giggled a little as he linked his hand with yours, refusing to let you go for even a second, the two of you had been apart for two years, there was no way he was letting you go anytime soon.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you I got a visa for six months," You smirked at him and Yoongi's eyes practically bulged out of his head at you.

"Six months?" He was already trying to think of everything he could fit into those six months with you. He had some time off now he was out of his service but he wasn't exactly sure how long that was going to be. Almost as if you could see the clogs turning in his mind you smirk at him,

"It gives me time with you, I do have a job to do while I'm here though, I'm hoping my contract will be renewed at the end of the six months though." You smirk at him as he looked at you,

"Oh?" A giant grin began to form on his face at the thought of keeping you longer than he had planned.

"I'm dancing with le Sserafim," By now his heart was racing as he realised just how close the two of you were going to be working together and he kissed you deeply, groaning against you as you giggled against his lips.

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#bts #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts imagines #yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi imagines #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi imagines #min yoongi imagine

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notapradagurl7 · 4 months ago

Text

Between Us.

Black Fem! ReaderBoss! x Aaron PierreManager! & Kelvin Harrison Jr.Assistant!

Summary: You were a diligent boss in the corporate workplace with a need for change in your life, but you didn't know that Kelvin and Aaron would be the excitement and love you needed. They invited you to their house, but one of them has an idea that they think you would open to. Not only becoming with your best friends and lovers Kelvin and Aaron.

Warnings: fluff, smut, threesome, piv, heavy dirty talk, angst, head(fem + male receiving) dominant duo, gossip in the workplace, filth, words of affirmations, sex toy, bondage, handjobs, teasing, a secret poly relationship, jealousy, nipple play, drama, internet rumors, mention of taboo topic, fictional, not real, anxiety attack, slight British slang, kinky, BDSM.

A/N: I was extremely anxious about this mini-series since I hadn't come across any poly fics featuring these cuties, so I chose to create one. I'm focusing on adding some nastiness to these stories. Don't forget to leave comments, likes and reblogs are welcome to support, drop a request if you like, they're always open! ❤️🫡

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo

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———-

Another day, another paycheck for you, but it's the same sleek and tidy office you occupy every day of the week, including late nights and weekends. The macaroon cream and cocoa decoration evoked thoughts of candy, enticing your sweet cravings with its elegant touch.

The couch by the wall, a small bookshelf next to it, and a round lamp overhead, as soft jazz played from your phone, the office transformed into a routine you had fallen into and were struggling to escape.

You were typing on your computer about a new day on Fridays, which were casual Fridays. It wasn't much thought to it for you but you were tired of wearing the same tailored blazers with matching pants, and heels or loafers. You wanted to be comfortable for once.

The office became mundane and often in the halls you heard your co-workers in the break room say you were pensive, a hard ass, too strict and mean because of the way you managed the team every day.

They didn't understand the pressure you faced, the expectations from higher-ups who were also black men and black women, the constant need to prove yourself as a capable leader in a male-dominated environment.

As you typed the rest of your report, you felt a familiar tug of anxiety knotting in your stomach. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that tonight was different.

You would deem yourself as straightforward, you weren't the type of woman to sugarcoat shit for anyone, not even friends or family.

Maybe they were right—-nope, they weren't right, you just needed to change something about yourself or life, leaving your career as a successful real estate agent? Nope, you've made too much money to quit now and leave it to someone who didn’t know what they were doing.

How about a new lover? Possibly two lovers in your routine, but who? You always pondered on having a poly relationship with two handsome men, but those who looked at you sideways were always so quick to judge.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed twice on your polished brown table. Your eyes flickered at the screen.

Kelvin: Hey, I know you're busy right now but would like to come over to our house for dinner? Aaron is cooking.

It was only a thought, you didn't tell anyone about it. You kept it to yourself.

Your heart raised at the thought of seeing Kelvin and Aaron. They had become your confidants, not just friends but in many ways. Smiling a schoolgirl who has finally been asked out by her crush, similar to those cheesy rom-coms you liked.

You: Sure! What time should come over?

The grey message bubble popped up and then a few moments later, Kelvin replied back to you.

Kelvin: How about 8? Dress casually, we want you to feel comfortable.

You smiled at his message, grateful for their thoughtfulness. Doing a little dance in your seat, grinning from ear to ear.

You knew from day one you started working at your mother’s building that your co-workers or employees weren't friends. Except for Kelvin and Aaron.

But it wasn't until certain two handsome men walked into your workplace to apply for the positions as the manager and assistant, Aaron and Kelvin.

Your breath hitched when you thought of the two men, they were so handsome, attentive and funny. You spend weekend evenings with them at the diner, their house, or your house for a chat.

“Just relax, you got this,” you encourage yourself.

A knock on the door broke your thoughts quickly, you sighed then realized it was your receptionist Julia, who shot you a knowing smile, you mirrored the same action and chuckled.

Her deep brown skin glowed under the white fluorescent lights, complemented by a V-line sky-blue dress and matching heels, while her curly pixie haircut highlighted her oval face.

Jamila was not only your receptionist, but your best friend in the office, the only person you spoke to about Kelvin and Aaron. She understood your situation completely.

“How are you, boss lady? Are you for your late-night home date with two of the finest men in the office?” Jamila exclaimed with a grin, doing a cute shimmy dance toward you.

You hushed the woman, then glanced at the door and did a little dance with her, in case anyone was eavesdropping before closing the door behind her.

“Shh! Jamila, you are the only one and my friend in this place who knows. We have to keep this between us or I'm losing my job,” you whispered with a soft tone.

Jamila waved you off with an eye roll, “Girl, please They wish they would fire the greatest boss in the fucking company, guess what? They can't, because you have power, use it. And I'm sure that Kelvin and Aaron feel the same about you as well,” she said, her tone comforting and reassuring.

She was definitely correct; they couldn't let you go or they’d have to face your mother. You were convinced she had done the same things you were doing—falling for her assistant and taking that vacation. There were MANY trips she took ahead, and still kept her job.

“Yeah, you're right, I'm ready to get both of them, ugh. But how will they react?” you asked nervously.

Jamila placed her hands on your shoulders, making you face her. “Listen to me, you are smart, funny and beautiful, they would be so lucky to have you,”

She resumed speaking with reassurance, “And give me all the details on the threesomes you have, let me know if they both cum at the same time just from looking at you,”

You bursting out in laughter from her, Jamila was unhinged at a crazy time. You covered your mouth and shook her head, “Okay, okay I will,”

The clock struck five, and you quickly packed your things, excitement, bubbling in your chest. It was as if she could sense the shift beneath the surface, even though she did know.

As you stepped out into the cool evening air, you felt a sense of freedom and liberation wash over you. The burdens of the day lifting from your shoulders.

It took time for you to open up to people due to personal trauma with men, and girlfriends who treated you badly, your love life was complicated, it was like a maze with no clear exit.

You were reluctant to share your feelings with anyone following yet another difficult partner, as past partners had told you and you were overwhelming or too intricate.

Yet something about Aaron and Kelvin, they had a way of pulling those layers back once you got to know them, they are shown a brotherhood that was unbreakable.

And the size difference was pretty to you, given that you were only 5’5 and they were taller than you.

You always wondered what it would to be in a poly relationship with two men, others may spew judgment at you, calling you a whore and this, or that.

That throuple dynamic among black people was usually celebrated when it came to men, like they can come and go as they pleased when they had multiple women.

But they were different from the rest, they felt like a safe haven in a world that often felt suffocating, they were funny, charming and made your days so much better. What you love about this poly relationship with Kelvin and Aaron was combining your love languages.

Aaron’s love language was quality time and physical touch, while yours was words of affirmation, physical touch and Kelvin’s love language was all of them in one.

Originally it was your idea to be in a poly relationship, it all started on a late sweet night in your house, and he talked about how you wanted to explore the boundaries of love and connection. The conversation flowed effortlessly, like chocolate dripping from a spoon, sweet and warm.

The idea sparked a flame within you; the thought of loving and being loved by two incredible men sent shivers down your spine. It felt liberated yet so taboo to talk about, especially among black people.

As soon as your car arrived in the driveway, your anxiety began to fade, and you quickly exited the vehicle, shut the door, and rushed inside your home to get ready.

Once inside, You settled for a soft oversized sweater and joggers, wanting to feel comfortable. Crimson red applied to your fingernails and toenails. A watch on your wrist and your box braids pulled back in a ponytail. Gorgeous.

Your phone buzzed on the table, it was from Kelvin.

Kelvin: Hey, I'm coming to pick you up, are you ready beautiful?

Your thumbs tapped across the keyboard on the screen, sending him a text back.

You: I'm ready, on my way over.

Before you walked toward your front door, a knock made you flinch and you looked through the peephole, it was Kelvin. The door swung open.

You chuckled once your eyes locked with his, “Boy, I know that you didn't come over here to rush me, I'm done dressing up, baby”

“I didn't come here to rush you, Y/N. I told you that I'd pick you up at 8, and I wanted to walk with you to our house,” Kelvin said, his tone love-dovey and serious.

Your cheeks grew hot with warmth and embarrassment, stepping out of your house, locking the door behind yourself. “Oh, umm..thank you. What a gentleman, so what are we having for dinner tonight?”

Kelvin chucked with a smile before looking back in your eyes, “Spaghetti with parmesan cheese, and garlic bread. Aaron is cooking tonight,”

As you stood beside him, you began to walk with him, the night sky decorated with stars hovering over both of you.

“You do know that I live right next door right?”

“Yeah, but I wanted to walk with you, Aaron and I suggested it so I can be here to protect you,” He said, smiling.

Your heart fluttered at his kind words, there was something about the way he looked at you, making you feel cherished and safe.

“So, how was your day?” you asked, breaking the comfortable silence as you strolled through the quiet neighborhood.

“Same old, same old,” he replied, glancing sideways at you. “Just trying to keep everything together at the office. But I couldn’t stop thinking about tonight.”

The porch light illuminated both of your melanated skin, peeking at the modest one-story house with its pretty walls of light blue as both of you walked toward the door and Kelvin opened it for you. Feeling the tension rise as you thanked him.

As you walked inside the house, the scent of garlic, and herbs wafting through the air. The spacious living room is filled with decor of butterscotch caramel and macaroon cream white, and the large circle shaped lamp glistens, casting a bright glow over you. Their house was so tidy and smelled fresh of citrus and something sweet.

Aaron was in the kitchen, his back turned to you, focusing on the three grey plastic plates of spaghetti sprinkled with basil leaf and parmesan cheese, a loaf of garlic bread on the side. Carefully pouring red wine into the glasses, you can tell he put in extra effort to make this night special tonight, and your heart swelled with affection.

“Hello, gorgeous, how are you? You look beautiful tonight,” he called out, turning to face you with a radiant smile. He made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, Aaron! I'm doing great. I can say the same about you,” you replied, your voice laced with admiration.

He wore a fitted black tee shirt that clung to his toned physique, pants hugged around his legs.

He approached you, pulling you into a warm embrace that felt like a blanket. The way he held you, firm yet gentle, remained of the safety you felt when you were with both him and Kelvin.

You missed this part of a relationship, the love they give right back to you, the way they would love harder, give affection.

The three of you ate delicious dinner, sipped red wine and laughed all night long, sharing stories of your childhoods and first jobs, embarrassing moments at work in the office.

“Wait, what happened?” Aaron asked, chuckling with you.

“I thought that the new intern was going to help with my presentation, but she ended up uploading the wrong flies to the projector during the meeting!” You recounted, tears of laughter streaming down your face.

Kelvin and Aaron erupted into laughter, their voices blending together in a sweet-sounding melody that through your ears. All that pressure and anxiety was gone.

“Honestly, you handled it like a champ, I would've just shut down the meeting and ran out of there,” Kelvin said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You’re too funny Kelvin, you know that Y/N tries her best out there, she even managed to keep us in line,” Aaron chimed in.

“You guys make it easy, besides I couldn't have done it without the greatest assistants in the world,” you replied with a grin.

The last remnants of spaghetti were wiped from the plates and the clattering of cutlery came to a halt, the three of you leaned back on the couch, satisfied and full.

Kelvin broke the silence, his voice audible and thoughtful. “You know, we’ve been thinking about our earlier conversations about…us” his eyes darted between you and Aaron, gauging your reaction.

Your breath hitched from the intense eye contact between you, Aaron and Kelvin. You leaned forward, “What do you mean? Kelvin?”

He licked his soft, plump lips, collecting thoughts as he intertwined his fingers with yours. “I’ve been serious about the idea of a poly relationship, I think it could work for us,”

You felt a rush of emotions flowed through you—-surprise, excitement, and a piece of apprehension. You had been contemplating this possibly for a while, but hearing it out loud made your heart race.

“I mean, we already have a strong connection with you, and we care for you and each other deeply, and I think adding that layer of intimacy could be beautiful. We wouldn't have to hide how we feel about you, it would be real.” Kelvin said, his tone earnest.

Aaron shifted in his seat, his brows furrowing slightly. He was always the quiet yet cautious one, weighing on every option before making a decision. “It’s not that I'm against it, but it's a big step, I just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.

You nodded, understanding the concern that lingered. “Actually, I've thought about it too, Aaron. I worry about the same things. But I also believe we can do this,”

Aaron chimed in, smiling slightly. His shoulders relaxed as he absorbed your words. “Well, that's good. As long as we establish guidelines, rules and a safe word.”

Words caught in your throat, you fantasized about this so many times. You could imagine what pleasure you experience.

“Then it’s settled, we’re in a poly relationship.”

You almost couldn't believe that it was actually happening but now, these two were all yours. “Okay, how about we celebrate this moment with a good night of pleasure hm?”

The boldness from you almost shocked them but you'd been waiting for this moment. They exchanged sinful grins and then slid off their shirts while you gently slid off your joggers and sweater, you were already getting hot and you turned on the fan. The cool air satisfied your hot flashes.

“Sit,” Aaron demanded with his voice raising an octave, his hand patting his lap, you quickly scooted over the couch and seated yourself on his thighs, they were thick and the candlelight flickered on his light fawn skin.

“May we touch you, love?” Aaron asked in your ear.

“Yes, please. Touch me, fuck me.”

You were without a bra, though you did wear panties beneath your outfit. Your finger delicately traced the detailed tattoo on Aaron’s right arm, each design telling its own story. Kelvin knelt before you, gazing up with a mischievous smile, until Aaron's hands gripped the back of your knees and parted your legs for Kelvin.

Kelvin’s fingers intertwined with the waistband of your panties, sliding them off with ease. His soft lips began to tease your clitoris, while his fingers pumped the slickness between your folds. You let out a wild moan, your legs trembling in Aaron’s firm grasp. “Let him eat, Y/N,” he whispered, trailing kisses behind your ear.

Aaron’s strong hands enveloped your breasts, kneading them in a rhythmic motion, his fingers pinching your nipples as they became erect. “Please...Kelvin...Aaron…” you whimpered softly, your hips moving in sync with Kelvin’s tongue as it traced tantalizing patterns on your sensitive folds.

“But I love the way you taste; it’s even better than I imagined,” Kelvin groaned, slurping your essence. He suckled and kissed your slick folds as if they were your own lips.

Aaron retrieved handcuffs and a vibrator from the dresser, a sly grin spreading across his face. You nodded in anticipation. “Did you order these for me?” you asked, your voice quivering with excitement while you moaned from the escalating sensations. “Focus on him,” Aaron spoke up in a demanding deep tone, His fingers brushed against your wrists, setting off a spark that coursed through your body.

As Aaron fastened the fluffy handcuffs around your wrists, a shiver ran down your spine. A storm brewed in Kelvin’s gaze, his eyes narrowing as you moaned from the pressure of his thick fingers curling inside you.

You instinctively tried to close your legs from the pleasure, but Kelvin held them apart. “What about me? I’m not finished with you yet, baby,” he urged, his intent clear.

You felt something in the pit of your gut, a familiar knot getting tighter and tighter. Hinting toward your climax, You felt your juices trickling down her thighs, and you rolled your hips against his fingers, rubbing your thighs together in desperation.

"Please, I need to cum," you whined, tears streaming down your cheeks. But Kelvin’s eyes fixed on your face as you contorted in pleasure. A wave crashed over into a tiny pool.

"Why should you cum when you've been giving Aaron some attention sweetheart?" Kelvin said, his breath hot against her skin. "You need to learn your lesson first."

Her essence coated his fingers as it soaked onto the sheets, and Aaron’s palm smacked your ass roughly, causing his woman to let out a squeal. Plunged his fingers deeper into you, hitting your G-spot with precision. “Fuck! Fuck! Kel!”

With a wicked grin, he finally relented. "You can come now beautiful," he purred.

The knot in your stomach tightened, and you came hard. Aaron and Kelvin watched you come intensely, their eyes locked on you, they fell in love all over again, your release was explosive, and the couch was soaked with your juices. She trembled, gasping for air, as the mind-blowing orgasm left you shaken.

Panting, you collapsed back against Aaron’s chiseled chest, your body spent and sated. Aaron removed the handcuffs, gently stroking your wrists as she came down from your high. Kissing your wrist as if were a queen in a fairytale. “Are you okay?”

She nodded weakly, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “Y-yeah, that was amazing..”

“Now that you had your punishment, how about taking both of us?”

“Both of you? I'm not into the backdoor shit guys,” You shot back, your brows raising.

The men shook their heads, “Neither are we, but we gonna do it only in the front, let’s get a safe word?” Aaron asked in gentleness.

“Pineapple?” you quickly spoke up, but you wanted to turn up the heat.

“Good girl,” they said together.

"C-can you get the vibrator from the dresser?" You panted, your chest heaving up and down. He hummed in reply before he kissed your cheek.

Kelvin grabbed the vibrator from inside the dresser with a sly smirk across his face, "You ready? He asked, his tone deepened. Kelvin and Aaron pulled off their pants and boxers, allowing them to hit the carpet.

You looked up at him, your eyes hazy with desire. "Yes," you breathed. "I'm ready."

He turned on the vibrator, its low buzz filling the room as he positioned it against your clit. You moaned, arching your back off the bed, "Ouuu! F-fuckk!" you sobbed, your nails sunk into his triceps as you left a trail of marks on his skin, hissing through his teeth, he rolled the vibrator around your throbbing clit. The heat and vibration sent shockwaves, making your jolt and shake weakly, a testament to your pleasure.

"I think you deserve a reward." Aaron cooed, his hand cupping her cheek, kissing her passionately. Aaron lined his dick towards your wet pussy and gradually slid in between your swollen folds, relishing the sensation of your tight walls clenching around him. He gritted his teeth tight, blood drew from his lush lip, each thrust left him breathless. “So fucking..tight,” He grunted, the tightness of you made him almost nut.

"Damn...this pussy is so pretty and perfect, just like you," he murmured, planting a tender kiss on her temple as he began to move his hips in a slow, but forceful rhythm. She shivered from the familiar feeling of him inside of her, each other brought to the edge, waves crashed into a multitude, electricity tingling.

Aaron continued to thrust into you as Kelvin deftly maneuvered the vibrator around your sensitive clit, eliciting moans of pleasure from you. It made him feel left out, until you decided for Kelvin, “W-wait, stop, Aaron..can you pull out? I need Kelvin..”

Kelvin’s smirk curled on his face and he quickly passed the vibrator to Aaron which he didn't mind at all, he chuckled softly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Looks like I’m not the only one who wants to take charge tonight,” he said, pulling out slowly, relishing the way your body reacted to his departure.

Kelvin wasted no time, positioning himself between your slick legs, “Fuck, Ready for me?” he asked, his voice deep and sultry, making your clit jump from that, kissing down on your lip.

“Yes, I'm ready,” you said, nodding eagerly, your body craving the fullness he promised.

As Kelvin pushed inside you, you gasped and moaned loudly, feeling the delicious stretch. “Fuck…you’re filling me…up..” you groaned, moving your hips with the man, feeling his hips touch with yours, setting a fast pace that made your toes curl.

Aaron, still holding the vibrator, watched intently, his breath hitching at the sight before him. “You’re doing amazing taking him, love,” he encouraged, turning the vibrator back on and placing it against your clit once more.

Kelvin quickened his thrusts, your nails dug into his back, and threw your head back onto the pillow. With practiced ease, you took every inch of him. "You're so beautiful takin' this dick," Kelvin groaned deeply, biting his lips. Aaron adjusted the vibrator to a faster pace, circling it over her swollen clit, eliciting loud, raspy screams from you.

Despite the ache and swelling, your pussy clenched and creamed around him, bringing her closer to release. Tears welled in your eyes, but you pushed through, determined to reach her peak.

Aaron leaned down, kissing you passionately as he turned the vibrator up a notch. “You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” he whispered against your lips, watching the pleasure build in your expression.

“Yes! I can’t hold it!” you cried out, your body thrumming with anticipation. The heat coiled within you, tightening with every thrust from Kelvin and the relentless buzz against your sensitive clit.

“Let go, baby. We’ve got you,” Aaron urged, his voice smooth and soothing, anchoring you as you teetered on the edge.

The skin-to-skin slapping filled the room, your body jerked as you cried out, your orgasm exploding through your body. “Make a fucking mess,” he groaned out, kissing on your neck.

He withdrew from her and collapsed on top of you, they both panted for breath, their bodies slick with sweat and used-up passion. Kelvin rolled off her, pulling his lover into his arms as they both lay there. "You good?," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I'm good, baby," you replied, snuggling into his embrace. Kelvin slid off the bed as he scooped his you up in his arms bridal style, sauntering into the bathroom and kissing her cheek, while Aaron cleaned up the mess, she shook weakly in his arms, "Let's run you a bath baby girl." he added, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies, she giggled at her husband.

————-

255 notes · View notes

humaling · 3 months ago

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>゜))彡 . . . finnick odair masterlist ! ! !

requests: closed

🍡 = fluff , 🌪 = angst

(i don't write nsfw!!!)

What I Needed Was You 🌪

summary: years of cat-and-mouse chase, finnick is done waiting.

The Sea and The Sun 🍡

summary: you love finnick the way he loves the sea.

Hold Me Steady 🌪

summary: how do you watch the person you love most break in front of you—knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it?

Nightlock 🌪

summary: you wished you and your lover stayed back in district 13.

Rome Fell 🌪 (alt ending for nightlock)

summary: after district four is destroyed, you and finnick return home broken—haunted by loss, guilt, and scars both visible and hidden. as you struggle to rebuild your lives and your marriage, you must face the wounds of war that threaten to tear you two apart before you can truly heal.

Stacking Seashells, Falling Hard 🍡

summary: a seashell competition between you and finnick on a random saturday afternoon.

Between Your Hands and the World 🍡

summary: finnick isn't particularly fond of the gift you received from one of your sponsors.

Two Victors, One Closet 🍡

part two, part three — discontinued for now.

summary: you hid in a closet to escape from a fan—but what are the odds of ending up in the same closet with the capitol's darling?

Hope Is A Dangerous Thing To Have 🌪

summary: finnick came back a different man. after weeks of silence and indifference, you find a locket in his cot—a reminder that maybe not everything is lost.

You're Still The One I Run To 🌪

pt 2 of hope is a dangerous thing to have

summary: in district 13, survival is routine—but when finnick’s quiet apology breaks through the silence, you begin to wonder if something lost can still be found.

Tidebound 🌪

summary: you and finnick are drawn together like the tide to the shore—even when the odds are never in your favor.

Silver Glow of Moonlight 🍡

summary: finnick finds comfort in your arms after waking up from a nightmare. (based on a req!)

Still Here 🌪

summary: you're left wounded after a gone-wrong expedition and finnick is worried to death. (based on anon's req!)

War Is Over, Now Live With The Trauma 🌪🍡

summary: finnick is still adjusting to his new life after the war. sometimes, he's still in snow's grasp but luckily, you're there to pull him out of it and remind him that it's over. (based on a req!)

As Long As You Want 🍡

summary: in a world that never stops taking, you and finnick steal a moment where only the rain, the sea, and each other exist. (based on a req!)

Nothing's Ever Gonna Hurt You, Baby 🌪

summary: it's supposed to be another normal day with your husband—but it takes a turn when you wake up to eerie silence. (based on anon's req!)

Back to Where We Began 🍡

summary: finnick's usual trip at the beach becomes something more when an old face shows up.

Crab Juice & Strawhat 🍡

summary: finnick's been haunted by lots of things—but he never expected a strawhat to be one of them.

Sweetheart of Panem 🌪

summary: finnick odair believes you somehow escaped the arena, but you're just another tribute claimed by the capitol’s game. he holds onto hope, aware that your fate was sealed long before the final blow.

Mother's Day Special 🍡

summary: you drag finnick along with you as you try to find the perfect gift for mother's day.

Like Real People Do (Honey, Just Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips) 🌪

summary: how does the quarter quell affect between two people who love each other but can’t seem to align on how or when to admit it?

We Kissed Like Drowning Things 🌪

summary: they were each other's first love—soft, sacred, sun-warmed. then the capitol took him, and you learned that sometimes, survival means letting go of everything gentle. years later, bruised by the capitol and silence, they're trying again. but the sea doesn't always return what it takes.

Typical Tuesday Morning 🍡

summary: you got a little bored and decide to have some fun make-over with your pretty husband.

Drabbles!

golden morning 🍡

happy wife, happy life 🍡

a cat(s) between us 🍡

summer heat 🍡

183 notes · View notes

zerocoded · 4 months ago

Text

summary: you need a favor and beom taeha always have a way to be back on your life.

authors note: why haven't i seen ANY english work about this webtoon here on tumblr? i've been OBSESSED for a while and found out i could try to write a piece about it. i searched for fanfics of it before sleeping yesterday and was CRUSHED bc there isn't one. so this is my contribuition to the fandom, i hope at least one person will find this teehee.

warnings and tags: oc x beom taeha • reader x beom taeha • not na haesoo even tho she's a queen • i described reader with long dark hair at one point, sorry

word count: 3.1k

beom taeha’s voice sliced through the silence with a hint of stiffness, as if it had always been waiting for the perfect moment to unsettle you. whether the two of you were alone, sharing unspoken thoughts, or when your presence grew too much for him to handle, he always found a way to keep you on edge.

the suits he wore, the elegance he carried—none of it ever fooled you.

his every breath seemed measured, his movements precise, as though he was rationing the number of steps he could take in a day. and when you weren’t captivated by his breathtaking beauty, you found yourself quietly mourning the fragments of a boy who had never really been allowed to grow up.

whether the two of you were alone, sharing unspoken thoughts, or when your presence grew too much for him to handle, he always found a way to keep you on edge.

not that you had such a great childhood yourself—you hadn’t—but somehow, you’d managed to sidestep the darkness waiting to swallow fragile minds like yours and taeha’s whole.

you managed to suffer by the hands of an unknown man at the time, while for taeha that man was his own father. you were slightly more lucky than the two beom boys when it came to the experiments all of you were put under.

so, in a way, you were beom taeha’s shield, and that’s exactly why you were here now.

the ponytail guard sucked in a breath when he saw you, standing calmly in the center of taeha’s living room, the delicate crunch of rose petals under your heels filling the space. you wore a refined three-piece beige suit, its clean lines complementing the cascade of long dark hair framing your figure. stilettos gave weight to your graceful steps, while the soft touch of makeup subtly highlighted the elegance of your features.

for a few seconds, you and the guard stood in silence, locked in an unspoken exchange. a white stick rested between his lips, unmoving, and for a fleeting moment, it reminded you of beom taeha’s habit of sucking on a lollipop whenever he was excited. but even with the sweetness of the memory tugging at the edges of your mind, your face betrayed none of those emotions.

"who are you?" the guard asked, his voice rigid, the fifth-generation g22 aimed squarely at you as his face hardened with misplaced seriousness. his steps were deliberate, closing the distance in an attempt to intimidate someone who had clearly stood in front of a gun more times than he ever would.

you didn’t answer right away. instead, your gaze remained fixed on the taller man standing just beyond the bodyguard, tracing the familiar details of his face like an old, obsessed lover reliving a memory they couldn’t let go of. he didn’t meet your eyes immediately, calmly slipping off his shoes as if the scene unfolding before him was nothing but routine, as if the gun pointed at you was no more than a minor inconvenience.

beom taeha was calm—because he already knew who you were. hell, he probably was expecting you to come already after what happened.

“did beom taeju send you here?” taeha’s voice was calm, collected—completely detached from the idiot standing beside him, still holding you at gunpoint like a clueless accessory to this whole mess.

he shrugged off his dark coat and let it drape over his arm, his gaze settling on you with an air of disinterest, hands buried lazily in the pockets of his slacks, as if your presence had become just another inconvenience in his life. beside him, the ponytailed bodyguard glanced between the two of you, unsure if he should maintain the threat or quietly disappear from the room before things got worse. you met his gaze with the same dull disinterest taeha was throwing your way, both of you mirroring the exhaustion of a dance you’d long grown tired of.

before the guard could make a decision, taeha stepped forward, gripping the gun and gently lowering it, effortlessly disarming whatever false authority the bodyguard thought he had. the poor guy looked even more confused, defeated in a fight that never had a winner.

“please,” you sighed, the weight of the past slipping into your voice as you spoke, calm but bittersweet. “we both know your father hates me more than he does you.”

“right,” taeha chuckled softly, the shift in his expression perfectly aligned with the man you remembered. “so, you ran away just to be here?” he asked, the question curling off his lips with casual curiosity.

“it’s been a while since i’ve been on prison furlough,” you replied, your voice steady. “i didn’t exactly run away.”

“so, what brings you here? want me to kill your grandpa now?” he said it with such effortless nonchalance, as if it were as simple as ordering takeout. but even though you’d never been on good terms with the old man, you didn’t laugh. instead, you watched as taeha’s playful mask slipped, his expression shifting into something more serious when he realized you weren’t in the mood for nostalgic banter.

“why are you here, y/n?”

“just wanted to see you. it’s been a while,” you said, half-truths rolling off your tongue like second nature.

“right, that sounds like you,” taeha muttered, running his fingers through his dark strands as he circled the table separating the two of you. when he was close enough to touch you, he stopped, but instead of reaching out, he sank into the cushioned sofa next to your purse.

you watched him relax, unbothered by the mess of red petals scattered across his apartment floor. the ponytailed guard—jay, you knew him—stood by taeha’s shoes at the door, observing the scene with a fake, emotionless gaze, as if trying to decode the situation.

“young master?” jay finally spoke, as though he’d been waiting for an explanation of who you were or how you’d gotten here without so much as a scratch. but he didn’t get one. taeha ignored him completely, lazily gesturing for you to sit in the chair across from him.

with jay dismissed, you crossed the room and sat down without hesitation, your gaze never breaking from taeha’s.

“i think you know your apartment is clipped. i’d rather have this conversation outside,” you said, your tone carrying no hint of submission to the boy seated before you.

“are you taking me on a date, miss ryeo?” taeha smirked, his teasing sarcasm floating through the air like a strange perfume, coating his features in something that felt slightly off. “do you still have feelings for me?”

“please,” you scoffed, the sharpness of your words cutting through the room. “i am no do heejin.”

taeha didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you with quiet curiosity, as if trying to piece together the version of you sitting before him. it had been just under a year since the two of you last saw each other, and though you were never the type to be compared to heejin’s sweet, innocent love for him, both of you knew exactly how things had unraveled. the ties you shared were complicated, something far too close to love but tangled in despair instead.

“where do you suggest we go, then?” he finally asked, a trace of genuine interest flickering across his face. and he should be curious—after all, the two of you had cut each other off so abruptly that neither had time to consider the aftermath.

“somewhere your little dog won’t follow you,” you replied sharply, your eyes darting toward the bodyguard by the door, filled with nothing but disdain.

you knew exactly where he’d go once this was over.

taeha chuckled at your reaction, his laughter soft but amused, as if your distaste for his new guard was the most entertaining part of his day. “okay,”

protests spilled from the bodyguard’s lips, but you didn’t bother listening. instead, you found a small sense of relief in knowing that a flicker of taeha’s trust still rested in your grasp. with a simple flick of his fingers, he dismissed the worker without a second thought, then reached for your purse beside him, casually handing it over as if the two of you hadn’t just reopened old wounds.

little did taeha know, your words weren’t just a reflection of your usual disdain for men with guns. you knew jay—knew exactly why he was here. and that was the very reason you’d come to warn him.

as you slung your purse over your shoulder, taeha rose from the sofa with the same effortless grace he always carried, as if nothing in the world could ever really shake him. without a word, he led you toward the door, his hand barely grazing the small of your back, a silent gesture that reminded you he still knew how to navigate you in moments like this. the crunch of rose petals followed the two of you as you stepped into the hallway.

jay, of course, wasn’t far behind. you could hear the hurried shuffle of his shoes as he tried to catch up, his voice cutting through the air before you even reached the elevator.

“boss, i should come with you,” jay insisted, his tone laced with that overly eager loyalty you couldn’t stand.

taeha didn’t slow down, didn’t even glance back. instead, as the elevator doors opened, he gave a soft laugh, low and knowing, before turning his head slightly over his shoulder. “stay here, jay.”

the words were said with such casual finality that even jay, despite whatever stubborn determination he had, hesitated. you smirked as the guard stopped dead in his tracks, unsure whether to argue or obey.

the elevator doors closed, sealing jay out of whatever was about to come next. the ride down was quiet, the tension between you and taeha thick but familiar, as if the ghosts of your shared past were riding with you. when the doors opened, you followed him outside, where the cool evening air greeted you like a reminder of just how far the two of you had drifted from the people you used to be.

taeha’s car was waiting—a sleek, black luxury model that looked as untouchable as he made himself appear. you slid into the passenger seat, and soon, the hum of the engine filled the silence. the car wasn’t the same he used to drive when you both still dated, the change was a good thing considering the silence inside the vehicle. neither of you spoke during the drive, but the occasional glance from him didn’t go unnoticed. he was observing you, studying you, as if trying to uncover what you weren’t saying yet.

it wasn’t long before he pulled into a discreet side entrance of a dimly lit restaurant, the kind of place only those in the know would find. the valet barely blinked as taeha handed over the keys, and moments later, the two of you were escorted to a private room tucked away from prying eyes.

as you settled into the plush seat across from him, a glass of water already waiting at your side, taeha leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady and expectant. “so,” he said, breaking the silence with that familiar, smooth tone, “what exactly did you come to warn me about?”

you exhaled, fingers lightly tapping the edge of the glass as you met his gaze. “don’t trust lee jay. your father hired him to stalk you,” you began, watching the slight shift in taeha’s posture—still appearing relaxed, but the sharp glint of curiosity in his eyes betrayed him. “last week, the chairman went to my grandpa’s company,” you continued, your voice steady but laced with warning. “he reinforced cameras in all the hotels.”

taeha didn’t respond right away, but you could tell the gears in his mind were turning. his fingers drummed lazily against the armrest, though the air between you grew noticeably heavier. “hotels,” he repeated softly, as if weighing the significance of the move. “so, he’s extending his reach. monitoring me even outside the main properties.”

you nodded, leaning forward slightly. “it’s not just that. he’s got jay tailing you, waiting for a misstep. your father’s planning something—he’s paranoid, and he doesn’t trust the decisions you’re making.”

taeha chuckled, a humorless sound that sent a chill down your spine. “when does he ever trust me?” he muttered, shaking his head before locking eyes with you again. “but you’re not just here to warn me about him, are you?”

you hesitated for a second, but there was no point in dancing around the truth. “no. i’m here because if jay’s following you, it’s not just your father you should be worried about. there’s a bigger network involved, and if they’re watching you, they’re watching me too.”

taeha leaned back, a slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “you think you’re still that important to them?”

“i know i am,” you replied firmly. “because if you go down, i go down with you. and they’re not about to let either of us slip through the cracks again.”

“so… just because your grandpa runs the most hired security company out of the country, you end up knowing everyone’s secrets?” taeha’s tone was casual, almost amused, as if he’d expected nothing less from you.

“i’m not here to talk about that right now, taeha,” you replied, your voice sharp enough to cut through his smugness. his gaze lingered on you, waiting for what you’d say next.

you didn’t flinch. “you should stop meeting the woman you’re stalking,” you warned, the weight of your words settling heavily between you. “i know how this ends, and it’s not going to turn out well for her.”

taeha’s expression didn’t shift much, but you caught the brief flicker in his eyes—a mixture of realization and something darker, as if he was already aware of the potential fallout. “so, you know about na haesoo,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“of course, i do,” you said, folding your arms. “i’m a ryeo, i know all of the chaebol’s secrets. i’ve seen what obsession like this does, taeha. i’ve lived through it. don’t let her be collateral damage.”

he exhaled, running a hand through his dark hair, the tension in his shoulders betraying him for the first time. “it’s not like that,” he whispered, but the conviction in his voice wavered just enough to tell you otherwise.

“then make sure it doesn’t become that,” you shot back. “before taeju discards her. he is not going to merciful like he was with me, trust what i’m saying.”

“and what do you gain from telling me all this, princess?” there it was—the nickname. the one that always hit you harder than you wanted it to. your body tensed, a barely noticeable flinch that didn’t go unnoticed by taeha. his smirk deepened, eyes glinting with amusement. “do you really want me to kill your grandpa?” he added, a chuckle escaping as if the idea itself was ridiculous, yet somehow tempting.

“i need a favor,” you said, cutting through his teasing like a blade. your tone left no room for him to twist the conversation further. you knew how to play with beom taeha, and he didn’t seem to mind that sometimes.

taeha leaned against the window, arms crossed lazily over his chest as he studied you, his amusement slowly giving way to curiosity. “a favor,” he repeated, drawing out the word like it held more weight than you intended. “that’s why you came here. not to warn me out of the goodness of your heart.”

“warning you was part of it,” you admitted, stepping closer, your eyes locked on his. “but yes, i need something in return.”

“what kind of favor, y/n?” his voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge.

“my grandpa is selling me off for a marriage,” you said, the weight of the words draining your energy even as you spoke them. “the kim’s oldest son showed some interest. apparently, being too old and desperate for a woman made me the perfect choice.”

taeha raised a brow, leaning casually against the back of the booth as if your misery was just another piece of gossip. “you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend again?”

“not exactly,” you corrected, sighing. “i need to redirect my grandpa’s attention to the beom family again. just one date, that’s all. you show up, make him believe you’re serious about marrying me, and he’ll back off for at least a year.”

taeha tilted his head, his expression bored but not entirely dismissive. “except i won’t,” he said plainly. “i’m in love with another woman.”

“no shit, sherlock,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i said pretend, didn’t i? i’m not asking you to fall in love with me. i need you to act like you might.”

he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he weighed the proposition. “so, let me get this straight,” he muttered. “you want me to fake being madly in love with you, scare off the kim family, and keep your grandpa off your back. what’s in it for me?”

“i’ll make sure to wipe some images of you carrying your princess to the hotel last night,” you said simply, your tone steady as your eyes locked on his. “your dad won’t like that, so i’ll deal with it. give you a few weeks to slap that fake smile back on and maintain the illusion of happiness.”

taeha’s fingers drummed rhythmically against the table, the sound filling the heavy silence between you. the pause stretched long enough to make you wonder if he’d walk away from the deal. but then, just as you started to prepare a backup plan, he leaned back, a small smirk curving his lips.

“fine,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “one date. but don’t expect me to play the perfect fiancé for too long, princess. you better have your plan airtight.”

you exhaled quietly, relief hidden behind a neutral expression. “i always do,” you replied.

taeha chuckled softly, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between you, his gaze playful but sharp. “and here i thought you’d outgrown me. turns out, you still know how to get under my skin.”

“oh, i never stopped,” you shot back, rising from your seat and grabbing your purse. “i just took a break.”

taeha laughed under his breath as he watched you walk away. “this is going to be fun, isn’t it?”

“as fun as pretending you’re in love with me can get,” you called back without turning around. “don’t be late.”

author's note: unrelated but i think do heeji is a BADDIE. i suck at endings, ik. PART TWO HERE. send me a request • my masterpost

#beom taeha #beom taeha x reader #beom taeha x oc #beom taeha fanfic #beom taeha fic #tears on a withered flower #tears on a withered flower fanfic #tears on a withered flower fluff #webtoon #korean webtoon #toawf #webtoon fanfic

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maxinehufflepuffprincess · 3 months ago

Text

Morning Routine

Chishiya Shuntaro x reader x Niragi Suguru

(I'm not totally sure how I feel about this one but I kinda like it? I hope you guys do too.)

Summary: A look at your morning routine with your boyfriends.

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update. Love Line Collection.

Your morning routine had changed since you, Chishiya and Niragi had begun dating. Ever since the night the three of you had cuddled together, the lines had begun to blur. Niragi started interrupting Chishiya's night. Chishiya would interrupt Niragi's nights. Soon enough it began a thing where they would both come to your room every night. Sometimes for fun and stress relief. Sometimes just to cuddle. Sometimes just to talk. But every night ended with the three of you wrapped up in each other's arms.

Of course, the guys still argue. But Chishiya's words weren't as harsh. They didn't hold the same mean bite all the time. Niragi didn't shove his gun in Chishiya's face for any and all reasons anymore. He didn't degrade him so menacingly anymore. They still argued. They still took jabs at each other. Now in the privacy of your room, they were being nicer. They were holding hands, they were holding each other as they held you. They had kissed during some of your most intimate moments with them. So a talk happened. What they wanted. What you wanted. And the only thing you three seemed to want was each other. To be together. So you began dating.

Your eyes blinked open as you woke up. Arms were wrapped around you. You reached up to rub your eyes. You blinked again, letting yourself slowly wake up. Two voices were heard around you. One hushed, one...attempting to be quiet? However, it didn't last long once they realised you were awake.

"Well look who's awake. Good morning, baby." Niragi purred in your ear as he pulled your body closer to his. He was spooning you from behind. On your other side sat Chishiya. He was toying with something in his hands. Another one of his creations. His last creation had been a taser-like thing. Now he was toying with some can. Niragi often told him that he was supposed to report him for having weapons like these. For making them and keeping them. But he never did.

Chishiya turned to look at you. "Morning, sweetheart." He leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before tinkering with his new toy.

"Don't I get one?" Niragi questioned mockingly, his free hand on his chest like he had just been shot.

"No." Chishiya didn't even look at him as he shifted on the bed slightly. A string of giggles left your lips. "I'll kiss you?" You offered as you looked at Niragi over your shoulder. A grin appeared on his lips and he clicked his tongue. "See, at least my pretty girl knows how to treat me right." He commented before giving you a soft yet hungry kiss.

"Our." Came Chishiya's voice as he set his project on his bedside table.

"What?" Niragi asked as he broke the kiss.

"Our pretty girl." Niragi let out a small scoff at Chishiya's words. "Right, of course. Our Sweet girl." He chuckled, a smirk on his face. He brought a hand up to stroke your cheek softly.

Your eyes ping-ponged between the two as they spoke, their eyes met for a moment. Chishiya gave Niragi a softer-than-usual glare, and Niragi looked at him like he was having the time of his life. And he was. He was holding his pretty angel in his arms whilst riling up his...Frienemie? boyfriend? Lover? The two hadn't labelled what they were just yet. They were dating you and also each other? Kind of? Maybe? They were working on it. Maybe they didn't need to label it. They were them. Glares and teasing. Staring and hand-holding. Poking and kissing. Their relationship had changed because of you. Because of how they felt about you. And through you, they were figuring out how they felt about each other.

"You sure you don't want that kiss?" Niragi asked as he looked Chishiya over. The other male stayed quiet for a moment before looking at you and Niragi.

"Maybe if you beg for me."

"I don't beg, that's her job."

"I'll happily take a kiss." You told them proudly. The two looked at each other before simultaneously leaning in and kissing your cheeks. "Thank you." You turned your head giving Niragi a soft kiss on the lips before turning to Chishiya and kissing him just as softly. Nirgai's hand left your waist and moved to touch Chishiya's hand. Niragi grinned brightly, triumphantly as Chishiya entwined their finger together.

"Knew you had a crush on me, pretty boy."

"Shut up or I'll let go."

You snuggled closer to Niragi, Chishiya moved one of your legs onto his lap. "I wanna stay in bed forever." You pouted. Spending the day in bed with your two favourite people would be a dream come too.

"We can't, Princess. We have an executive meeting today." Came the voice from behind you.

"And we have to play today." The man in front of you added.

"Will you at least shower with me?" You asked them two. You wiggled out of their hold, crawling off the bed. You turned to face the two men, still holding hands. "The shower is big enough." This was how it always went. You ask them to shower with you like it was even a question. You'd shower together. There was always a lot of touch and sometimes it turned into more. When you were done, one would brush your hair, and the other would style it for the day. You would then ask for their opinion on what bikini to wear. Pick a cute skirt or pair of shorts or cover-up to go with it.

All the while the three of you would steal kisses. Touches lingered. Secrets were slowly shared. Plans were made. Your morning routine was often the same. Wake up, kiss, tease, listen to the boys poke at each other, tease each other, rile each other out. All so they could let some steam off in the shower with you or keep you trapped between them on the bed. Mornings were always good. Even in the mornings, you had to wake up early for a meeting. But waking up with them was worth it all.

You made your way to the bathroom, giggling as you heard Niragi bouncing off the bed and Chishiya laughing as he got up. As you turned on the shower you couldn't help but smile. There was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Taglist:

@thecheshireprincess

@mocchii-writes

#chishiya shuntaro x reader #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi suguru x reader #alice in borderland #aib chishiya #aib niragi #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya × niragi #niragi alice in borderland #polyamarous

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