#his dimple for me as a reward for just finishing up my work day feels like a tap on my head thank u

[hyunpic]

hyunjin on bubble

[bratzkoo]

positions | wonwoo

Author: bratzkoo Pairing: wonwoo x nurse! reader Genre: fluff, more fluff Rating: PG-13 Word count: 1.3k Warnings/note: first wonwoo fic and it's inspired by ariana's song positions and my Anna, my best friend and the best nurse in the world. Written in Third person and Wonwoo's POV.

summary: it’s a matter of time before you tell your boyfriend that as long as he’s down for you, you’re down too.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): -​

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The scent of sautéing garlic and ginger wafted through Wonwoo's apartment as he carefully stirred the contents of a sizzling pan. His brow furrowed in concentration, eyes darting between the stove and his phone propped up on the counter, displaying a cooking tutorial video. The sound of keys jingling outside the door made him look up, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Y/N breezed in, her presence immediately filling the space with a vibrant energy that Wonwoo had grown to love over the past seven months. "Hey, you," she called out, kicking off her shoes and padding towards the kitchen. "Something smells amazing in here."

Wonwoo's smile widened as he turned to face her. "Welcome back. How was your shift at the hospital?"

Y/N groaned dramatically, draping herself over the kitchen island. "Exhausting. But rewarding. We had a patient recover from a difficult surgery today." She perked up, sniffing the air curiously. "What are you making? It doesn't smell like your usual kimchi jjigae."

"Ah, well," Wonwoo rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of shyness creeping into his voice. "I thought I'd try something new. It's supposed to be mapo tofu, but..." He gestured vaguely at the pan, where the sauce was a shade darker than the video suggested it should be.

Y/N's eyes softened as she rounded the island to peer into the pan. "Wonwoo, that's so sweet. You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"It's no trouble," he murmured, his ears turning slightly pink. "I know you've been working hard lately. I wanted to do something nice for you."

Y/N reached up, cupping his cheek gently. "You're always doing nice things for me," she said softly, before a mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Even if some of them are potential fire hazards."

Wonwoo huffed out a laugh, gently bumping her with his hip. "Very funny. Why don't you set the table while I finish up here? I promise not to burn the place down in the next five minutes."

As they settled into dinner, Wonwoo couldn't help but marvel at how comfortable this all felt. Seven months ago, he never would have imagined himself here, sharing a meal he cooked (albeit imperfectly) with a woman who had somehow managed to slip past all his carefully constructed walls.

"So," Y/N said around a mouthful of tofu, "tell me about your day. How was practice?"

Wonwoo launched into a recap of SEVENTEEN's latest choreography session, complete with dramatic reenactments of Seungkwan's latest aegyo attempts and Mingyu's clumsy mishaps. Y/N listened attentively, laughing at all the right moments and asking questions that showed she genuinely cared about his work and his members.

As their laughter subsided, a comfortable silence fell over them. Wonwoo found himself staring at Y/N, taking in the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the little dimple that appeared on her left cheek. A warmth bloomed in his chest, a feeling he'd been experiencing more and more lately but hadn't quite put a name to yet.

"Oh!" Y/N exclaimed suddenly, breaking Wonwoo out of his reverie. "I almost forgot to tell you. You know my friend Alexys? She called me today, all excited because her boyfriend finally said 'I love you' to her."

Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat. "Oh?" he managed, trying to keep his voice neutral. "That's... nice."

Y/N nodded, seemingly oblivious to Wonwoo's sudden tension. "Yeah, they've been together for about as long as we have. Can you believe it's been almost seven months already?"

"Time flies," Wonwoo murmured, his mind racing. Were they at that point? Should he have said it already? Did Y/N expect him to say it? The thought of those three little words suddenly felt monumental, and he found himself at a loss.

If Y/N noticed his internal struggle, she didn't show it. Instead, she stood up, gathering their empty plates. "Come on, let's clean up. I'll wash, you dry?"

Grateful for the distraction, Wonwoo nodded, following her to the sink. They fell into an easy rhythm, Y/N washing and rinsing while Wonwoo dried and put away. It struck him how well they moved together, anticipating each other's movements without a word.

As Y/N handed him the last plate, their fingers brushed, sending a jolt of electricity through Wonwoo. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged with unspoken words.

The moment was broken by the sudden blare of music from Wonwoo's phone. He had forgotten he'd set it to play his evening playlist. The opening notes of Ariana Grande's "Positions" filled the apartment.

Y/N's face lit up. "Oh, I love this song!" Without warning, she grabbed Wonwoo's hand, pulling him into the living room. "Dance with me!"

Wonwoo stumbled after her, laughing despite his initial reluctance. "Y/N, you know I'm not much of a dancer outside of work."

"Nonsense," she retorted, already swaying to the beat. "I've seen your performances. Now come on, show me those moves, Mr. Pop star."

As they danced, Wonwoo found himself relaxing, letting the music guide his movements. He spun Y/N around, delighting in her laughter. When she pressed close to him during the chorus, singing along softly, Wonwoo felt that warmth in his chest expand, threatening to overwhelm him.

In that moment, watching Y/N move with abandon, her eyes sparkling with joy, Wonwoo realized something. This feeling, this warmth that had been growing for months – it was love. He was in love with Y/N.

The realization should have terrified him. Wonwoo had always been cautious with his heart, keeping people at arm's length. But as Y/N looked up at him, her smile radiant, he found that he wasn't scared at all. This felt right. It felt like coming home.

As the song slowed for the bridge, Y/N's movements became more languid. She draped her arms around Wonwoo's neck, swaying gently. "You know," she said softly, her eyes never leaving his, "as long as you're down for me, I'm down too."

Wonwoo's breath caught in his throat. He recognized the weight behind her words, the echo of the song's lyrics carrying a deeper meaning. This was Y/N, brave and beautiful Y/N, putting her heart on the line.

Time seemed to stand still as Wonwoo gazed into Y/N's eyes. He saw hope there, and vulnerability, and something else – something that mirrored the feeling in his own chest.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I love you."

Y/N's eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. For a heart-stopping moment, Wonwoo feared he had misread the situation. But then Y/N's face broke into the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

"I love you too, Wonwoo," she breathed, her voice thick with unshed tears of joy.

Wonwoo pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers. They stayed like that, swaying gently as the song played on, both marveling at the newfound depth of their connection.

As the final chorus swelled, Wonwoo, feeling bold, attempted to dip Y/N. He miscalculated slightly, nearly dropping her, but managed to catch her at the last second. They froze for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Maybe stick to the choreography your team gives you," Y/N giggled as Wonwoo pulled her upright.

"Noted," Wonwoo chuckled, cupping her face gently. "But I think I'll keep improvising with you."

As their laughter faded, Wonwoo leaned in, capturing Y/N's lips in a soft, sweet kiss. The song came to an end, but they barely noticed, lost in their own world of newfound love and endless possibilities.

In that moment, as they held each other close in the middle of Wonwoo's living room, both knew that whatever positions life might put them in, they'd face them together, always down for each other, always in love.

[saucyjothoughts]

💜At anatomy lecture today we were learning about muscles. And it come to my mind (yes during lecture) that would the boys allow me to use their body as a tool to learn where are certain muscles are. Touching their muscles and asking them to flex it so I could feel how the muscles move under my hand. Skin to skin contact so I can feel the muscles without any layers. Of course after helping me study they would have their reward 😏.

I don't know if you're studying anatomy for biology reasons or art reasons, sweet 💜 boo, but I just had to run with this concept.

(mostly sfw under the cut)

"Pervert," he teases you.

You're in the university library with him - the cute one who does sociology - while your mutual friends are in lectures and you two have a free hour.

"It's for research," you inform him. You really don't know him that well and now you think about it, this is probably the first time you've been alone together without the buffer of your friends.

But that isn't what Bojan is referring to. You're ignoring the book and watching slow-motion, zoomed-in videos of men playing rugby on your phone. Muddy, rippling, sportsmen's thighs under tiny shorts.

In front of you is an open copy of a heavy book, the page featuring a sketched torso with all of the muscles labelled.

'Anatomy for Artists.'

"Research? Of course." He looks at you in a way that makes your heart flutter.

"It's very important to study."

As it turns out, he does really mean it. He's in your DMs before the end of the day.

"You should come to one of my MMA sessions." He probably doesn't really mean it. He's probably just being nice, trying to make a friend in this new city away from home, full of adventure and fear and promise. "Do some research in the flesh."

And when you study together, he lets you see exactly how skin moves over muscle, how the human body bulges and flexes and sags and creases, hair and freckles and dimples and veins. He lets you study a little at a time, hitching the sleeve of his t-shirt up so your paintbrush can outline the deltoid, the tricep, the brachioradialis, the extensor carpi ulnaris; elegant sweeping strokes of deep red that he says feels good on his skin as you paint him. You're thinking about pectoralis major. But you're not brave enough to ask him for it. Not yet.

Your study sessions have moved. You don't use the library anymore. Bojan thinks it will be more useful if you can see him when he's pumped, after his training, so you join him at the gym with your sketchbook. His skin looks good (he's worked up a sweat) and he takes his shirt off to show you his biceps, his armpit hair, then turns around so you can see his back. He sweeps his hair away when you ask for the angle of his neck and writhes slowly when you want the movement of the scapula, the ilium.

"I'm probably too soft for you to get a good idea of abdominals." He's apologising, self-conscious about his love handles. In your eyes, he's a perfect specimen (when did he become perfect to you? It happened so naturally) and his shyness is endearing.

"I'm sure there are plenty of abs I can see around here," you tease, making a show of looking around the gym at the other guys.

No.

He takes your wrist, pulling your attention back to him.

"You didn't let me finish."

He's sweaty, and you're close enough to smell him, musky and masculine.

"You probably can't see, but you can feel."

He pulls your hand close to his body and you touch your fingers to him. Around his navel, over that little trail of hair, and he flexes his core as you push your fingertips through the softness of his flesh to feel the strength beneath. Rectus abdominis.

Why are you suddenly struggling for breath when you aren't even the one working out?

He asks you if you want to have the next study session at his place. You do. You desperately do.

His room is cosy. There's a nice view from the window and you skim through his record collection and the whole place smells of coffee and Bojan.

He offers you his chair and you're spreading out the media you brought onto his desk while he prepares to pose for you.

"You know, if you wanted..." There is hesitation in his voice. "You could draw all of me."

Your mouth is suddenly dry. You just nod.

Slowly, he peels away the last of his clothing until all he's wearing is the chain around his neck.

He reclines on the bed, fully on show, the lines of him looking beautiful in the window light.

You pick up your sketchbook, and draw.

[poppy-metal]

Nah but your bully reader x izuku holy fuck its so good just thinking about how one day the reader just gets so fucking out of line that izuku drags her to his room and just goes to town putting her in her place. just absolutely railing her as the headboard smacks against the wall and saying such dirty things like "I'll teach you to stop being so mean to me "I'll show you how much of a man I can be" or my favorite "cmon scream my name let everyone know this lowlife dork is making you cream on his cock" awooga anyways finally as shes about to reach her climax he just stops completely only to look her dead in the eyes and say "tell me you love me cmon say it and ill keep going" but shes so stubborn that she just pouts with a red face panting heavily as she looks away unable to meet his gaze. however this only fuels izuku causing him to lift her chin up to meet his green eyes that seem to boar into her very soul shaking her to the core. he chuckles at her doey eyed expression before speaking once again "funny you spend all that time looking down on me and now you cant even look me in the eye" he begins teasing her by rubbing his angry red tip between her slick folds causing her to gasp as he slams back into her over and over again until her brain turns to mush and its not long before he claims his reward. all that can be heard over the slapping of skins and moans are "i love you izuku" and "please cum inside i need it" and who is izuku to deny this request ?

No bc this punched me in the actual gut :(( 

Its after awhile in your little secret relationship and izuku is frankly tired of being treated like he doesn’t matter to you when it’s so glaringly obvious you’re in love with him. He’s not your dirty secret, and he’s a soft, romantic boy. He wants to fucking hold your hand in the hall and buy you flowers and be able to kiss you whenever he wants, he love language is quality time and acts of service okay, he’s dying on the inside slowly because the only time you’re soft for him is on his cock, but it’s not enough. 

So when a pretty, sweet girl smiles at him, and he know’s you’re watching he doesn’t try and bashfully reject her. He looks at you and makes sure you’re watching when he smiles and takes the slip of paper with her number on, slipping it in his back pocket. He expects the way your lip curls, the way your fists clench and the way you shove yourself out of your seat and stomp out of the common room. He’s already following you the second you’re out the door. 

He catches you around the waist from behind, presses your back against his chest when you struggle and leans forward, lips at your ear. “Tell me why i shouldn’t go” he’s pleading, squeezing you tight. “Give me a reason” 

You grit your teeth, actually feeling tears build because you’re so frustrated. With your feelings, with him, with all of it. “Fuck off. If you want some other bitch that’s on you. Hope she’s ready to be disappointed in bed”

He doesn’t even react to your jabs, his lips stay close to the back of your neck. “M’gonna have a big family one day, y’know?” he says softly. “I wanna be a dad,___. I want to be in love and have a woman who i can kiss and hold and share a life with. Who lets me make love to her” 

The last part is whispered right against the shell of your ear. You squirm. “I want that woman to be you” he finishes, and you close your eyes, feeling the way your heart caves in your chest.

You don’t know why you can’t just be easy to love. Its what izuku deserves, and the picture he’s painted….it’s what you want. You want to be the reason izuku smiles and gets dimples, you want to be the person he reaches out to and loves so hard. But you’re scared of the overwhelming way that giving yourself over to your love for him would make you powerless. You’d never recover if he left you, never. 

“I don’t wanna be your stupid housewife..” You mumble. Yes, you do. You feel his sigh against your hair, his breath moving it. 

“You do.” Izuku turns you around to face him. He traces a thumb over your cheek. “I know you wanna be my girl, yeah? You don’t need to shout it from the rooftops or wear it like a badge but...i need to know you- i need to hear you say it” 

You want to. You want to say it but - “im-” You look down, mumble, “im scared” 

Izuku smiles down at you, his eyes softening as his thumb brushes over your lip, slides down your neck and then drops down to grab your hand. “I know you are. Won’t make you say it how i wanna hear it yet. We’ll take it slow, okay? But im gonna hear you say it. By the end of tonight” He grins. “Even if i have to drag it out of you with orgasms” 

And later he does make you say it. Its not loud, or public, how he wants yet. But its a little give, to all your pushing. Even if he has to bully it out of you a little, has to drag the plush head of his dick through the soaked folds of your cunny and tease your little clit until you’re begging. 

Its a little cruel, honestly. The way he makes you so vulnerable, gasping and weeping as he fucks you so, so slow, dragging his cock along your walls in a painfully tender glide, making you feel every inch, knowing you’re dying, gasping, needing it harder, deeper, faster. “Say it, baby” he groans against your mouth, working his hips in tiny barely there increments, barely feeding you his cock how you want it. Licking your upper lip as you cry and whimper. “Tell the little nerd you like to tease so much how much you love him, go on” 

Your dig your nails into his freckled, flexing back as your eyes roll back, his pelvis grinding into your clit in sweet torture as you give in. “i-i love you, izuku. Please” 

“Mm, i know” he says, and you’re to far gone to catch the smugness behind it. He rewards you by gripping you under your thighs and pulling your legs up, sliding into you in a heavy and deep thrust that has his balls clapping against the underside of your pussy as he fills it deep. “Love you too. So much. Gonna make you wanna be my girlfriend one day, and then my pretty little wife, and then” He grunts, grinding. “The mother of my children”

[grogunotfound]

PART TWO OF LOST

pairing ╾ ben poindexter x fem!reader

word count ╾ 2.8k (BAHSDHASH i let myself get too carried away)

synopsis ╾ after more lengthy nights at the night club, a certain fbi agent and dancer grow closer as tensions grow between them.

warnings ╾ flirting,, drug mention... angst, slight nsfw cus semi-passionate kissing

a/n ╾ i wrote this instead of doing my homework. anyways. possible part 3? im truly just writing this for myself hahaha

———

The next time you saw Agent Poindexter was at the same booth the two of you met in at the nightclub. For the past couple of nights, he has been coming back to visit you—as if he could not get enough of you. And, to be fair, you were used to these types of characters becoming regulars...but you never expected an FBI agent taking a liking to you. But, you were sure that maybe this was his weird way of getting to know you.

"Agent Dex, what can I do for you today?" You greeted him, leaning over the table, letting your perfumed smell engulf him.

Dex took a deep breath before clearing his throat, "maybe a talk?"

"That'll be $5," you joked and slid into the seat next to him, resting your legs on his lap. Usually, you wouldn't have made yourself comfortable with a client like him, but you couldn't help but tease the agent. Plus, you were still on the clock. "How was work today?" You fiddled with the collar of his button down, making it clear he just came from the office.

He placed a hesitant hand around your ankle, his grip reassuring yet overprotective. His corresponding thumb carelessly glided across your skin, his own skin was cold to the touch, sending shivers up your exposed leg. "Well, we sent some really bad guys to prison."

"You probably saved a whole lot of lives today, huh?" You brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I'm sure it's rewarding."

He let out a sigh, his thumb never ceasing the skin-to-skin contact on your ankle. His mind sped up, completely consumed with malign thoughts about who he was, was he really deserving of this being saved? With someone as kind as you? While he was busy lost in his mind, his breath was rapidly speeding up.

"Dex? Are you okay?" You asked, planting your feet on the ground in case you needed to attend to him. You reached over to place your hand on top of his. Without a second though nor a detectable reflex—his instincts were fast—he grabbed your arm. You flinched, shocked by the power in his grip. "Dex?" You repeated, trying to feign calmness.

He looked over at you with a concerned sorrow in his eyes, "Love, I-I'm sorry. It's just a lot... You are, you are just so considerate." He sucked in a breath, revealing a slight dimple with his smirk. "And, I... I just admire that about you. You make me feel...welcomed, like I'm a person."

You pouted, "Aw, Dex. I mean, you went through a lot. You're entitled to feel that way. I'm glad I could make your day somehow."

"You see, that's, that's exactly what I mean. You, you care." He loosened his grip on your wrist, "I'm sorry, my—" before he could finish his sentence, you both heard another patron say your name.

"Love! I'm here," you turned to the source of the voice and made eye contact with your most prominent regular. And, get this, he was a politician. The two of you met at the club, and you were the one girl he laid eyes on. He was dressed in a dark blue button down with a patterned tie. He held his hands out, "See you in five?"

You let out a flirtatious scoff, "whatever you say, sir." You turned back to Dex, whose face was quickly flaring up. "I'll be back, if you wanna wait."

Dex took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and nodded. "Sure, I'll be here."

"Let me get you some water first," you reached out to squeeze his hand. You stood up from the booth and passed by the politician, you flashed him a smile, "You know where to go." He let out a lazy grin, scratching his nose fervently—yep, definitely coked out.

He chuckled in response and slipped towards the backrooms where most private dancers were held. You headed over to the bar, dropping a tip for the bartender to pick up a cup of water. You made your way over back to Dex, who didn't seem to have moved at all since you left.

"Thanks, Love." He couldn't meet your eyes. You nodded in response before going to the other side of the club.

You knew you would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to Dex—I mean, he was the iconic mysterious and clearly troubled guy trope. But, he was also so sweet, and it seemed like he just needed a friend. Although, at times when you two are truly left alone at the club, you have gotten so physically close together that you can't forget the feeling of his warm breath hitting your lips. Of course, with your nature of career, that wasn't allowed. Yet, with his reoccurrence, he still hasn't properly asked you out. Him showing up to your work almost every night was not your ideal date.

And, Dex knew that too. In fact, he knew a lot about you. During the day, when he was off from work, he often passed by your apartment. Sometimes, if he was lucky enough, he would catch glimpses of you through the living room window. He often imagined what you did during your free time. He also wondered why you came to New York to live in an artists' loft with four other roommates. Ben Poindexter was absolutely captivated by you, his Love. All he wanted was to be around you, be near you, be with you, Y/N. His research revealed a lot about your personal life. He often scrolled through your social media when he wasn't around you. He knew your hometown, your NYC dream, your most-frequented coffee shop...

But, he claimed his research wasn't in a stalker way. He was just curious. He longed for connection, and it felt like you were the only person who understand and empathized with the FBI agent. It angered him that you were taken away from him tonight. The one time he could be with you in a public space, and you were gone. He hoped that man you were with wasn't harming you. Dex doesn't even want to think of the things he would do if that man was hurting you. His steady fingers tightened around the glass cup in front of him. He imagined numerous ways to send the shards of glass into the backroom, carefully avoiding you. His precision and accuracy was something he was known for, whether it was alarming or impressive.

"That's enough!" You quickly stormed out of the backroom, absolutely fuming because of the politician's unusual behavior. He used to be so sweet and generous, but tonight he was just an utter dick. Dex quickly stood up, ready to rush to your aid, but he couldn't follow you into the dressing room without getting stopped by security.

He flashed his FBI badge, "This is part of an ongoing investigation."

"Sure, whatever, lover boy." The security guard scoffed and looked the other way. More shouting erupted from the backroom you just left, causing all the security guards to rush over to see what was happening. Dex licked his lips, he could have taken care of the situation in a more justified manner, but he could only think about you.

While the security guards were busy, he slipped into the dressing room door. He carefully navigated past the lockers and mirrors, trying to get to you. And, once he found you, he was locked on. You were using makeup wipes to clean your tear-stained face.

"Y/N," Dex breathed out, relieved that you were physically okay.

You let out a gasp, "Dex? What are you doing in here?"

"I- I, uh," he realized how odd this moment seemed but he couldn't bare to lie with you anymore. He tensed up his jaw, "I wanted to make sure you're okay."

You nodded, "Yeah. I'll be fine, I just have to get out of here." You took a deep breath and quickly pulled on your pants and hoodie.

"Let me see you home," Dex offered.

You shook your head, "Let's grab a drink or something." Dex hesitated but agreed. "Wait for me outside?"

"Sure, of course." Dex nodded and made his way back out the dressing room. He steered clear of the security guards and made his way into the cool NYC night. He wasn't one for loud, dark, enclosed spaced—it made him feel alone. But he was doing this for you. He knew that he would be lost without you.

You grabbed the rest of your stuff and took the exit from the dressing room. You looked around and saw Dex standing to the side of the club door. Your heartbeat fastened at the sight of him, he looked calm and composed, his posture straightened with his hands in his pants' pockets.

"Hey," you walked up to him. "Ready? The bar isn't too far from here."

He cleared his throat, "Yeah, let's do it." You smiled and laced your arm around his upper-arm. He tensed at your touch, but you needed to feel safe. It was a short, brisk walk to the bar you enjoyed going to. Most of your girl friends would go there after work.

The two of you enjoyed yourselves. You welcomed a rum-based drink, but Dex stuck to a glass of water. There was awkward silence between the two of you, but you didn't really mind. It was refreshing letting yourself rest and not endlessly talk for extra tips. You could tell Dex was tense about something. He could not stop fiddling with the pen intertwined in his fingers. He was so meticulous. Your breath hitched in your throat—again, Dex was attractive.

And you were feeling pretty brave after a couple of shots. Your attraction to him was making your imagination run out of control. Late at night, after another close call with him, you imagined what would have happened if there weren't any restrictions. You thought about how warm his sculptured body would be on top of you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, teasing the waistline of your pants. His warm, needy breath hitting the soft spot on your neck.

You stumbled over back to your table, "Dex. What if I told you that you could take me home tonight?"

He chuckled, "I'd say you're crazy." He put the pen down onto the table. "Are you feeling alright, Y/N?"

"What happened to calling me Love," you drawled your stage name out. You paused, "I don't remember ever telling you my real name."

"You don't? Didn't think I was that forgettable..." He joked and took a sip of his water.

"Whatever," you groaned and rested your head on the table. "I think it's time to sleep."

"Love, let me get you home first." Dex pleaded, standing up and placing some cash on the table. "Come on," he lifted you up, carefully placing your arm around his waist for support.

You snuggled into the side of his body. You could feel his strength, his stability, but you could also feel his warmth—which made you sink into his figure even more. "Whatever you say, agent." You tightened your hold on him.

The walk back to your apartment was longer than usual because you kept dragging your feet. You felt so sluggish, and you didn't want this night to end. It felt nice to actually spend time with Dex outside of the Northstar Lounge. You wondered if this could be a normal thing—you and him taking long nightly walks through the neighborhood, maybe even by the water. You wanted more than just a customer relationship. You felt like both of you wanted more—why else would he visit you all the time to not even receive the services provided at the strip club? You could always sense his eyes on you, he wasn't afraid to hide it.

"And, we're here." Dex hoisted you up to see if you could stand on your own. You teetered on the sidewalk, clearly unbalanced. "Easy there, soldier. You gonna be okay?"

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" You blurted out, suddenly feeling sober thoughts again.

"What do you mean?" Dex rocked in his spot, tucking his nervous hands into his pockets.

"I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice," you pointed out, "and it's definitely not for the same reason those other guys do at the lounge."

Dex pursed his lips, "I...I don't have an answer for you."

You let out a laugh in disbelief. You were burning for him, you wanted to get past his walls that he seemed to always have up. He was always guarded, was it because of his profession? Was he just not capable of opening up? To discuss feelings? You wanted to be with him so badly, "Okay, I thought you were just playing hard to get but it's starting to get old, Dex. I don't know about you, but I know what I want. From this. From...you." You pursed your lips, watching his face turn to stone. Without the alcohol in your system, you would have never been this brave. You probably would've just allowed yourself to continue getting played—never good enough for something more than just a typical fling. A toy. "You know what, it's fine. Goodnight, Dex." You turned towards the front door to leave, but you felt a tentative hand grab your elbow.

"Y/N, wait." He spoke up. "Stay with me, please." He sighed, "Please."

Your body screamed to press up against him, just engulf him in your embrace. But your mind said to not let him take advantage of your kindness. Then, your heart argued to listen to what he had to say...and, of course, your heart always won.

"Dex—" you sighed.

"I want to know everything about you." He interrupted. "I, I want you. You're the first person I think about when I wake up, and I can't stop thinking about you. I think I would do anything for you. I'd go...anywhere. No one has ever made me feel like this, like I've been seen. And heard. You make me feel like I belong. You listen to my concerns, and...and I feel like I'm not alone with you. I feel like I can do the right thing with you." Dex blurted out, like he was holding this in for a long time. You remained silent. "And, and, I want to kiss you."

"Then kiss me," you breathlessly demanded. Dex instantly followed your command and cupped your face, bringing it closer to his. Your lips accidentally brushed against his for a moment, his roughness contrasting your soft, glossy ones. The two of you paused—your breaths overlapping one another's—before you pulled him back down to connect again. This time was different, it was desperate and passionate—like it was now-or-never. You threw your arms around his neck to press your body against his. He was so steady and sure, whilst you felt like such a mess. His hands slid down from your face to the small of your back, clutching at the fabric separating his hands from your soft skin.

Dex may have had nothing to drink tonight, but he was absolutely drunk off of the taste of your lip gloss. He was hungry, he truly couldn't get enough. He wanted so much more, but he wasn't going to push it. It already took him off guard that you wanted to kiss him back in the first place. But, he knew it would be dangerous to continue kissing you this way. He couldn't believe this was happening. Dex tilted his head to deepen the kiss, desperately trying to avoid the end of this moment. You let out a moan into his mouth, "Dex."

You whispering his name against his lips made him snap back into his senses. He wanted to continue so badly but then he thought about the future. The pain he could potentially cause. You didn't deserve that. You were better than him. And, he desperately wanted to be good like you. "Y/N," he breathed out before abruptly pulling away. He was afraid of evolving into something more. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly, recovering from this intimate moment. "Dex?"

Dex stepped back from you, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry."

"Dex, what's going on?" You were concerned. Did you do something wrong?

"We are not the same and never will be." He mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?" You furrowed your brow in confusion.

"You're just too good for me, Y/N. I- I hurt people." Dex confessed.

You shook your head, "What are you talking about?"

"You're not safe here. With me."

"Dex, stop pushing me away. Please." You reached out to grab his hands. "I want this. You! Why are you being like this?"

"You make me feel...special." Dex exhaled, "like I'm worth saving."

"You deserve to be," you said. "Dex, I- I like you."

Dex remained silent for a few moments. His breath quickened, his chest heaving up and down.

"Dex, breathe." You placed a hand on his chest.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye, my Love." He shook his head and turned to leave, abandoning you on your front steps.

[palbabor-writes]

Latibule pt. iii

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: hi, the sexy stuff has arrived, so SMUT/18+only ahead, solo masturbation, blow jobs & hand jobs, mentions of hypochondria  

Words: 5314

His usual spot at the cafe is taken, and he’s already decided to keep walking on, but somehow, somehow, he manages to catch your eye.

His feet are slowing, a stuttering breath stagnating in his lungs, all at once hopeful and bewildered, but before he can examine his fluttering emotions, you’re alongside him on the noisy sidewalk, passing him his usual evening drink, a pleased smile on your soft lips.

Suddenly, the world smells like velvety pine and heady bergamot, and he can’t stop staring down at you.

Notes: hello! this week has been a little crazier than i anticipated so i wasn’t able to finish editing the last part of this chapter - but don’t worry! i’ll have the second bit up soon! 

Latibule 

pt. iii: Roll shot - section i

when a player slows down the speed of their arm swing while attacking to send the ball in front of the defenders

[ pt. i: an opening ] || [ pt. ii: four set ] || 

His head feels heavy. 

Kiyoomi blinks; eyes cracking open, peering into the murky darkness that envelops him. Little by little, he comes back to himself, heaving out a wearied exhale as he digs the heels of his palms against his face. 

Where is he? Did he fall asleep? He can’t remember. 

He’s splayed against something soft and he twists to his side, pillowing a muscled bicep under his cheek, somber brows furrowing as he tries to piece everything together.

Is he with you? No. You’d said you were busy. 

So why...no, that’s not right...you’d told him you weren’t busy; that you were excited to see him. 

He’d been the one who’d had to cancel. He’d hated hearing the disappointment in your voice when he’d called you. His fingers tense as they clutched his phone. 

It’s not supposed to be like this. A week has gone by, and he hasn’t seen you. There’d been days of nothing but [ late ] texts and feeble conversations. It’s all so rushed, incomplete. It... he doesn’t like it. He misses you and he hates that it’s turned into this; a shitty, half-assed back and forth. He’s been so frustrated...no...not frustrated; angry. 

Angry at his schedule, the endless repetition of games, meetings, and practices; angry at himself for not making more time, for not trying harder. He needs to try harder. 

After he’d called you, cancelled your shared plans, told you a vague “maybe later,” all he wanted was to call you back; to ask [ beg ] for you to let him come over to yours. He wanted to [ hold you; be with... ] see you.  It had been on his mind all day, but had he actually asked? Texted you? Called to see if you’d let him slip into the easy sanctity of your apartment? Did he? Think, think. 

He can’t remember when he’d left the training facility. Practice ran long [ again ], and it was late. He’d thought it was too late to call you; you were likely asleep. So he must have come to his condo; he must have. Then... if he came home.... 

Nothing feels wrong, but nothing feels right, either.

And this isn’t his room. 

It’s not a frightening revelation, but it is a distant curiosity; muddled by a sensation of heaviness that’s pressing against the back of his mind. If he’s not at his condo, where is he?

The air is chilled, but it holds the lingering fragrance of your perfume, and Kiyoomi’s nostrils flare as he dips his dark head against the softness of the mattress. It’s such an exquisite smell, that rich pull of patchouli and the balm of oranges. It’s his favorite; and he can picture you so clearly that he reaches for you in the darkness.

Even though you won’t be... won’t be... oh.  

You’re warm under his hands, against his chest, and his lips instinctively work a damp line up the arc of your neck, his tongue and teeth sucking marks into your pulse, your throat, your shoulder, the shell of your delicate ear. He hums as he flexes his arms, rough fingertips pressing into the supple skin of your hip and thigh.

You’re here. You’re here, and he can touch you, can wrap his arms around you. When did... 

“When did I get here?” he asks between caresses, mouth full of you. You don’t answer, opting to turn, slatting your curves against his angles, before easing your legs between his. Kiyoomi leans forward, resting his forehead against yours, raven curls spilling over your brow as he urges you closer, the flat of his hand bracing along the twin dimples of your lower back. 

Your skin feels good. 

It’s hot against him, holding the coldness of the room at bay, and he wants more of it. He tugs at your shirt, slipping it up, his fingers coursing over your stomach, your ribs, the gentle dip of your belly button, and the upper swell of your hips until you’re laughing, mirth bright as he strips you. As soon as the collar pops over your head you reach for him, mimicking his motions with his own top, teasing the cotton fabric upward, your arms tangling with his; eyes wide, and lips parted as you take in the chiseled expanse of his broad chest.

Your touch is featherlight; fingertips tracing over the coiled flex of his abdominals, and up the rise of his pectorals; stroking and exploring his exposed brawn. His hips unconsciously rock forward, breath sharp behind his gritted teeth, and a low apology slips from his curled lips. 

“Why are you sorry? You shouldn’t be,” you say coyly, helping him fling his shirt over his mop of curls and off, the material fading into the hazy darkness as his hands slot you closer. It’s hard to make out the bra that’s covering you from his greedy stare, so he settles for a touch, easing a thumb under the wire, dexterously seeking the pert swell of your nipple. 

He should’ve asked, he thinks, knocking stray waves of his hair from his hooded eyes with a jerk of his bowed head. He’s never touched you like this. But he can’t stop; not now, not when you’re this close, when he wants you so much. 

“Take it off,” you purr, arching into his tentative pinches and pulls. “Take it off for me, Kiyoomi.”

Oh, fuck. 

He bites his lip to contain a hoarse moan, touch fumbling as he reaches around your back, hands rough as they fiddle with the pronged clasp. Shit. He’s not good at this. Does he... can he pull it over your head instead? You’ve asked him to do it, and he wants to... he wants to; no, he will. He’s going to. 

Can you just––Wait. 

He shakes his head, eyes blinking. When did..? When did you move?

Somehow, you’ve disappeared from his side and are straddling him, your thighs tense against his, a pleased grin quirking your upturned lips. “What’s the matter? Don’t you want to?” 

He gulps, tongue heavy behind his teeth, and nods once, praying you won’t ask him to answer you verbally. He doesn’t think he can; not when this ache is pooling in his gut and that burgeoning throb is making him shift restlessly under you. 

“You’re so quiet tonight. That’s not like you, Kiyoomi,” you murmur, catching his hands in yours, sweeping his arms above his head. “Where are those quick retorts? You’re good at saying what’s on your mind. I like that about you, remember? Come on, Kiyoomi, tell me what you want to do.” You hover over his flushed form, slowly, carefully, overlapping his boneless wrists before pinning them down. You’re so close; he licks his lips when you drift languidly against him, your eyes vivid [ beautiful ] in the gloom. 

One of your hands lifts and he twitches, a deep shudder echoing its way down his spine. The uncontrolled movement makes you squeeze your remaining fingers against his entwined wrists; reminding him of your control. 

“Talk to me,” you entreat, tracing your thumb over his lips, using the wetness his tongue has left behind to part them. You drag your touch over him, cupping the other digits across the base of his jaw, teasing the tip of his well-formed neckline, your gaze watchful. “Do you like this?”

He nods again, and you smile, rewarding his silent answer with a smooth roll of your hips. The pressure against his straining bulge is electric, instantaneous, and Kiyoomi gasps; his mouth falling open, sharp teeth latching onto your probing thumb before his lips ease the sting with a hurried, apologetic suck.

“This is nice,” you hum, circling and grinding over the hardness that’s trapped between your spread thighs. “It’s such a rush, having a big guy like you at my mercy. I bet you’d do anything I say, wouldn’t you, Kiyoomi? Come on… Stop being so quiet. Talk to me. I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

He bucks at that, his back arching as he ruts upward, rubbing himself against you until he’s panting. Damn it. It… It’s not enough. You’re too far, and that ache, fuck, that ache keeps spreading. It’s making his head spin, but he wants so much more. 

“Come here,” he grunts, surging forward, hunting for your lips, for anything [ everything ] he can reach. 

“That’s better,” you croon, holding yourself away from his desperation, running your saliva dampened thumb down the robust lines of his chest as you watch him writhe. “Tell me, Kiyoomi, what do you want?” His eyes wince closed, and a hissed moan falls between his teeth. He doesn’t… He wants… 

“I–” he begins, lashes fluttering open as he looks for you. “I want… I want to… wait–Wait.”

Huh?

He’d blinked; now you’re under him, trapped between his braced arms. Your arms curl around his shoulders, one bent knee and arched ankle wrapping over the back of his thigh, your head tilting curiously against the sheets. 

“Why did you stop?” you question, urging him down to your lips, “you didn’t finish telling me what you want.”

He’s inches from you; can feel the steady puffs of your breath when he stops himself, pulling away and easing onto his haunches, obsidian eyes wide. What’s going on? 

“How did you do that?”

“Do what?” you ask, following him, crawling across his tensed thighs, lifting your fingers to tangle in his dark curls. 

“Where are we?” Kiyoomi rasps, already bowled by the catch of your covered breasts and the heat of your bare skin against his. 

“Don’t you remember?”

[ Wake up ]

“No,” he swallows thickly, easing you into a more comfortable position; helping you to steady your thighs on either side of his hips as his hands rest between the jut of your shoulder blades. “Am I at your place?”

“Uh-uh,” you smile, lowering your fingers from his scalp, reaching behind yourself to trace them over his own. The stretch of your arms makes your back bow and his eyes fall to the tantalizing swell of your cleavage, full lips parting as he curves himself over you. 

“Then...” he grits, his splayed digits jolting as you slip him down to that tempting clasp of your bra once more. “I don’t understand. Where are we? How did you�� how did we get here?”

“Does it matter?” You help him pull the metal eyelets apart, and the give of the elastic, the hollow dip of the cups that are modestly covering your plush breasts, makes his heart thud against his ribs. 

“Kiyoomi,” you breathe, leaning close, your lips sucking against his earlobe, “It’ll be ok, touch me.” But when he reaches for you, the world fades into a blinding emptiness. 

[ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ][ Wake up ]

Kiyoomi gasps, surging from his pillow; sleep thickened tongue catching in his mouth, making him cough and sputter into the stuffy darkness of his bedroom. He feels breathless; lips agape, long fingers curling behind his head as he hunches over bent knees. Damn it. A dream. It was a fucking, ah…

The drape of his thin sheet covers hips, cloaking his straining [ aching ] want, but he knows he can’t ignore it. Not when he can still see you, can feel the remnants of your touch, the whisper of your voice; no, he’s too far gone.

He’ll need to deal with it.

The fine mist from his shower fills the bathroom and Kiyoomi steps under the heated spray, dampening his thick waves, before catching the water between his palms, splashing it over his burning cheeks. 

Just dream; a lucid dream, one that seemed so alive, so full of you. He can’t shake the sight of your avid want out of his head. You were so forward, eager to touch him, to tease him. And when you’d clasped his hands above his head, he’d almost–damn. The heat of the water isn’t helping with these remembrances, but he doesn’t want to dim this.

He wants to see it through. 

His palm drifts down his stomach, sliding past the trimmed thatch of curls and stroking over the aching hardness of his cock. The tip is swollen, flushed, and he easily gathers the beading pre-cum, coating his fingers before starting that familiar squeeze and tug that will lift him out of this lust-filled haze. He goes slowly, [ it’s more about the pressure than the speed for him, anyway ] gripping the base before he swipes forward, and his hips follow the rhythm, bare feet restless against the slippery tiles.

Your hand is smaller than his.

Would you need to use both? Would you start like this? With your fingers caressing over his velvet softness until he’s blanketing your touch with his, showing you what he likes. Or would you linger against his tip? Using your thumb to send sparks up and down his spine as you stroke over his slit.

Kiyoomi groans at that thought, one palm bracing against the wall as he leans forward, cascading heated water over his muscled back. His own thumb mimics the vision that’s in his head, and the sensation makes his hips rock forward as another line of pre-cum dribbles between his fingers. Oh fuck, that feels good. 

Would you want to taste him?

Run your lips under the weight of his engorged dick, your tongue lapping over his veins until he’s a heaving mess above you? Would you like that? 

He can picture you stepping into the steamed metal and glass of the shower with him, your body pressing close as you scatter kisses against his neck, your hands reaching for him. You’re gentle; so gentle it makes his teeth ache, but he doesn’t want gentle. Not now. He pushes against your shoulders, forcing you to fall to your knees, to peer up at him from the sopping floor, that beguiling smile on your lips as you stroke your hands along his tensed thighs. 

You’re so pretty. 

He cradles your cheek as he lures you forward, hissing out a string of low curses when you cup his balls, and slick your fingers against his bulbous head, working your palm over him until he’s gasping. When your lips part and you draw him into your mouth, his head thumps dully against the wall; broad chest stained with splotches of pink, hands shaking as he holds you between them.

Your cheeks hollow and he watches the up and down motion of your languid bob through drooped lashes; obsidian eyes faded. You’re taking him so well; tongue licking under him before slurping up to his slit, fringing the tip along the trickling flow of his needy cock. 

Fuck, you’re so damn perfect. 

He’s moaning out your name now, and his dick is throbbing from the rough tugs he’s inflicting upon himself, but he can’t stop; not when he can almost feel [ see ] you. 

When he [ accidentally, he swears ] thrusts himself deeper into your wet mouth, he’s got an apology against his lips, but you shake your head, a low laugh reverberating around his pulsing cock as you suckle him harder. [ Yes ] he says, combing his fingernails across your scalp, [ good, girl, just like that. ] He can feel your grin, the answering rumble of your moan, the teasing squeeze of your water pruned fingers against the meat of his buttocks, and he’s lost.

His cum splatters bone white across the dark tiles and Kiyoomi falls to the floor, [ alone ] his limbs shaking and heart pounding. He runs a trembling hand through his wet curls. 

Fuck. It’s not… it’s not enough.

There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep now.

They’re losing this set. 

Sure, it’s a team effort, but his feeble performance isn’t helping. 

None of his serves are landing, and a good deal of his blocks are a tempo behind. It’s not enough to bench him, but he can feel the eyes of his captain, and Miya’s made it abundantly clear that he won’t set for him again until he proves he can get past a ‘‘freakin’ two man block’. 

It’s not a matter of caution, or upping his momentum. This slump isn’t about his preparedness as a volleyball player; but that doesn’t matter, he reminds himself, bracing into his slouched ready position. No amount of coaching, or smack talk from his teammates can give him back his sleep. 

After his shower, he’d sat in front of his bedroom’s standing fan, a towel draped over his bowed head, and stared at his waterlogged fingers. He’s masturbated plenty of times; it was something quick, or scratched a dull itch. Never anything more than a mindless stroke and pull; a routine. As easy as hopping in the shower, or changing his clothes. It meant nothing. 

But last night?

It felt like he’d slipped back into that dream; like all he needed to do was reach out and touch you. This time he couldn’t get it [ get you ] out of his head, and he’d spent the rest of his precious twilight hours replaying those heady visions; a hand stroking over his cock and teeth gritted against the pain of his self-inflicted overstimulation. 

But it’s not enough. After all, none of these fevered imaginings have a real life comparison; not yet. 

You’ve both taken things slow. Sure, there had been moments. Points when he wanted to keep pressing, or when you took your touches lower, keen fingers cupping him over the rough material of his clothes. But neither of you broached that last boundary. 

When would you have had the time? 

If he didn’t have a practice, a game, or a meeting, then you had a job interview, or a shift at the coffee shop. Some days even going to dinner felt exhausting, and both of you had drifted into an unsteady doze against the other [ on the train - your couch - as you leaned against him at the dinner table, or when he leaned against you in the station's emptiness ] on more than one occasion. Most people are busy; it’s expected, but it feels like he’s missing something. Other members on his team have wives, long-term partners, or kids; so how do they do it? Is it scheduled? Or are they content with those short 4 or 5 hours bursts? Is that really enough time?

Maybe he’s being greedy, but with you, how can he not be?

“Sakusa,” the assistant coach calls from across the gym, breaking him out of his myriad of thoughts. “Next time out, come see me.”

Miya laughs, sucking his teeth obnoxiously from center court; golden head flashing under the lights before giving him a knowing leer. Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale, pointedly avoiding those umber eyes, focusing on the stretch of his long arms as he rolls them forward and back.

Damn it.

His shoulder hurts, he thinks glumly, listening for the starting whistle as he eases his muscles, tenderly poking at the strained tissue. Maybe he should have gone a little easier in the shower… on his futon? Not gone as fast or as hard? But the image of you had come so easily, and it’s been so long since he’s had the chance to see you, to touch you. Of course he’d been excited; ready to release that pent up pressure.

Tch, wouldn’t that be the icing on the cake? MSBY’s star wing spiker, Sakusa Kiyoomi, forced to sit out because he tore his rotator cuff during masturbation. It’d be just his luck.

“You needed to see me?” Kiyoomi asks, toweling the perspiration off his curls as he tempers himself for a discussion about his lousy receives and sloppy serves.

“Ah! Yes!” the assistant coach nods. “I realize you’re missing the meeting for that event, but I need to go over a few points with you before you take off. About the recent change in rotation, are you alright with your placement on the–Hey?Sakusa? Are you listening? You… seem a little off today. You alright?”

No, he’s not ok.

His nails cut into his palms, and he can hear his teeth grinding between his clenched lips. Shit. Five weeks, he’d had five weeks to ask you. Plenty of time.

Sure, he had a packed schedule, and you’d been busy with your own work, but how had something this important slipped his mind? He shouldn’t have waited. He should have asked you the first night he’d seen the invitation. 

It’s such a simple thing, asking you if he could come; he’d talked to his coaches about it, but he’d neglected to speak to the one person who mattered; had the final say. How could he be so stupid?

“Sakusa… Hey, you look pale, do you need to sit, or–”

“I’m fine,” he sighs, giving his fists a last squeeze before looking up at the bewildered face of the assistant coach. “I forgot to check on something.”

“Really? That’s not like you. You’re usually on top of stuff.”

“I know. I’ll take care of it during the break.”

“Will that be enough time? I can–”

“No, I’ll handle it. What were you saying about the rotation?”

The cafe is busy, but he cuts past the bustle, using his imposing height and sturdy build to shoulder his way to the divider that separates you from the main floor. You don’t see him at first, too focused on the timing of your shots and the velvety foam that you’re building in your steaming pitcher, but when you look up, spying his engrossed gaze, your face lights up.

“Oh my God! Hey! I didn’t know you were coming by! You guys on a mid-morning break? You want your latte? Or just a coffee again?”

“I didn’t order anything,” he blurts, running his tongue over his mask-covered lips. 

Damn. It’s so good to see you; to watch you move, see that grin, hear your voice, be this close to you. Yes, the dream was nice, but his fevered imagination paled compared to this.

To you.

His remembrances hadn’t fully captured the glow of your face, the brightness of your eyes, and the ease of your smile. You’re so [ beautiful ] pretty. The stark vibrancy makes him want to reach for you. To see if he at least got the warmth of your skin right, or the familiar slide of your touch against his.

No, focus; that’s not why he’s here, and he doesn’t have much time.

“That’s alright,” you continue, seamlessly topping off a drink as you grin up at him. “I’ll just add yours to my tab. So you want a coffee or a latte?” 

“Uh, I–coffee? It’s quick.”

“Oh,” you remark, arching your eyes at his sober explanation. “You running behind? You didn’t need to walk all the way down here if you didn’t have time.”

He’s about to elaborate on his belated presence when you break away, walking to the brewing urns. Shit, he should have said he didn’t want anything, he thinks sullenly, sinking his curled fists into his jacket. Now it looks like he only traipsed down here for the caffeine. This isn’t going the way he wanted it to. Not that he had a concrete plan, but it feels like he can’t get off the back foot today. 

Kiyoomi puffs out a stilted sigh, twisting his head to glance at the clock by the door. It’s alright; he’s got a little more time. Just ask her about it. Say sorry for waiting so long to ask, but he wants to see if he can go with you tonight... and if you have plans, if you tell him no, then it’s not the end of the world. There will be other chances, other events, but he’ll understand [ hate it ] if he misses this one. 

He’s so lost in thought that it takes you calling his name twice to snap him out of his head.

“What?”

“I said, here’s your coffee. You alright? You look preoccupied,” you note, passing him an insulated to-go cup brimming with the aromatic house brew. 

Ask her. Stop stalling.

“I’m fine. Your event, I mean that Dean’s welcome thing. At your school. It’s tonight, right?”

“Welcome– um, event?” you question, tapping a used espresso puck from your portafilter. “What do–Oh! The panel. Yeah, it’s tonight. How did you–”

“Saw it on your fridge,” he gulps, fingers twitching around the sharp heat of his cup. [ Please, don’t say he’s too late. ]

The puzzled cock of your head straightens, and you chuckle. “Ahh, right. Totally forgot I’d put it up there. I always clip the things I need to remember on the door, hoping that seeing it every day will somehow keep it in my collective consciousness, but clearly that doesn’t work too well, huh? God, I don’t think I’ve looked at that for months, I’m surprised you noticed it.”

“Can I come?”

Your eyes are wide when you look up at him, your raised hand rotating the steam wand off, meeting his obsidian gaze through a mist of condensation. He knows his dark brows are knitted, that his head is likely comically dipped forward, but he hopes he looks sincere. He wants to go with you so badly. Then, tentatively, your lips curl into that amiable smile, and he lets a belated breath leave his lungs. [ Yes. ]

“Uh, sure! I feel like I have to warn you though... it’s not going to be the most exciting thing we’ve ever done, but, yeah, I’d... I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

“Good,” he nods, easing his shoulders back, glad to feel some of that coiled tension dissipating. “I’m sorry, I can’t stay. Text me the time?”

Wait. Leave? Already? But he just got here…

“I–sure, I’ll do that,” you fumble, blinking after Kiyoomi’s half turned back. 

“See you soon,” he murmurs, voice catching against his hidden smile. “Have a good day.”

Hold on. He can’t just walk in here, tell you he wants to go to your boring faculty meet and greet, and then walk back out like nothing happened. This is... well... for the two of you, it’s big. It’s almost like you’re making this whole thing… official. Something where you’ll need to introduce him to others. To say he’s with… with you. Will he want you to call him your… your…

No. That’s not what’s important right now. You’ve hardly seen him these past few weeks. Who does he think he is? Swooping in, turning your whole day around, and then coolly heading back to his practice.

No way; you’re not gonna let him go, not like this. 

“Saku–Kiyoomi!” you call out, stepping away from the heat of the espresso machine, and the long line of drinks that are waiting for your attention, your feet pattering across the dark flooring, following his long strides as he makes his way across the cafe. He stops when he hears your earnest cry, dark eyes watchful as he meets yours, and you gasp out a choked laugh. Great. You got his attention and now you don’t even remember what you were gonna say. 

Your cumbersome fingers tingle as you fiddle with the knotted strings of your apron, and you shake your head at your abashed clumsiness, but when you glance at the door again he’s still waiting, his stark gaze following your movements. Finally, fucking finally, you’re free and you fling the cotton apron across a back counter, calling a quick excuse to a snickering Kane as you rush to Kiyoomi’s side.

“Hey, sorry, I know you–look, just… it’ll only take a second, promise,” you gasp, snatching at the corner of his jacket. 

Your grip brushes against the arch of his wrist and he sucks in a drag of air, jerking his hand out of his pocket and wrapping it up with yours, interlacing warm fingers as you lead him outside. Soft; your touch is so very soft, and he clasps you tighter, pulse drumming against his breastbone. He’s been waiting for [ missed ] this.

“Sorry,” you pant, hauling him past the glass doors. “I don’t know why I–I just… I know you need to go. But, ha, that was so nice. Like… I wasn’t... after not seeing you for… I wasn’t expecting it. You wanting to come to something of mine. It–” your footfalls stop when the two of you are beside that bench under the tree, the one where he’d first kissed you; drawing him closer, resting your palms against his muscled chest as you look up at him. “It’s going to be so boring, and I know you’ll totally think: ‘what a waste of time,’ when you get there, but… shit. I can’t even… get my thoughts together. Take your mask off, you clumsy romantic; I want to kiss you.”

The strip of protective material is down in an instant and his long forgotten coffee nearly topples out of his wavering hold in his headlong scramble to feel you against him. Thankfully, you spot the tottering cup, and pluck it out of his hands, dropping it haphazardly on the wooden slats of the bench.

“Sorry. Not up for second-degree burns, heh. I’ll make you another,” you bargain, arms curling around his powerful neck as you tug him down to you. 

“I didn’t want it. I only came to ask you about tonight,” Kiyoomi rumbles between his impassioned presses, full lips rubbing and sucking greedily against yours.

“That so?” you smart, snatching hold of his lapels, arching onto the balls of your feet as you reach for more. He shakes his onyx curls, hands sliding to the round swell of your hips, delirious in the knowledge that this isn’t some dream that will slip between his fingers. 

He’s missed [ you ] this so much.

The break was only a half hour. But time doesn’t matter, not when he can hold you like this, and he takes advantage of that revelation, cupping your chin under his palm as you open for him. He nips at your lower lip, pleased when you clutch him tighter, and soothes the lingering sting with a quick swipe of his tongue.

You taste like espresso and nutmeg, and now that he’s had it, he can’t get enough of that heady flavor. So he hunches himself over you, nose pressing against the warmth of your cheek as his eyes wince closed; trying to memorize every piece of [ you you you ] this. 

“Kiyoo… mmm, Kiyoomi,” you hum, fingers bracing against his weight, “You’re gonna be… you’re gonna be… sorry… so late.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he scolds, hands dragging along your neck, fingers hooking under your jaw, lips pouted as he searches for yours. [ Not yet ] He’s not ready. [ Not yet. ]

You allow him one more kiss, but when he tries to shift you upward, powerful arms wrapping around your waist, you wriggle away from his insatiable hold, grinning up at his disgruntled expression. “You better go. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

His thick brows furrow and his mouth falls into a slant; disappointed that you’re being so [ damned ] responsible about all of this. “Fine. Send me a text about where to go and the time. I’m not going to the meeting today.”

“Yes coach,” you tease, and he grunts out an exasperated sigh at the playful nickname, tugging his mask over his kiss shined lips, black eyes concealed behind his lashes. A blush stains the apples of his cheeks when he meets your gaze, and while he wishes you wouldn’t look at him so smugly, he can’t say he’s not mesmerized by your own kiss swept appearance, too.

“Go,” you repeat, lifting on your tiptoes, chastely tapping your lips against the side of his mask. “And thank you again. I’m glad you’re coming.”

He doesn’t want to leave; he’ll see you soon, he reasons, stroking his index finger down your warm brow. But he wishes this moment would last a little longer.

notes: sorry to leave you on a bit of a cliff hanger! section. ii should be spiffed up soon!

[bangtanbetchfics]

friction | knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 7.0k suggested listening: 1 billion views - exo-sc | creme brulee - gfriend | underwater - baekhyun | playlist warnings: m/f, m/m, explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers, light bondage, light dom/sub, sex toys summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: enjoy enjoy enjoy! a true labor of love. navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | masterlist | ao3

FRIC·TION | conflict or animosity caused by a clash of wills, temperaments, or opinions.

Taehyung yawns, interlacing his fingers and pulling his arms above his head in a stretch. He moves his neck side-to-side until he hears a satisfying crack, indicating the adequate stretch of the muscle. He waits for his computer to finish powering down before clicking the lamp on his desk off.

Taehyung’s hand reaches for his coat, but he hesitates as he looks over at your office.

The blue glare seems to amplify your stressed expression and the mildly dark crescents under your eyes.

“Ma’am?”

Taehyung quietly raps at the glass door to your office and it startles you from your concentration.

“Hmm...yes, Tae?”

You respond, mildly annoyed, as you pull a neon post-it note from its pad to stick to the desk.

Taehyung looks at you, his eyes forming wide circles as if he's ready to convince you of something. You can immediately sense his question before you exhale through your nose.

“It’s just that it’s getting late and I-” Taehyung starts, wrapping a hand around the glass doorframe.

You shake yourself out of your funk and look at him fondly, your brows coming together in compassion.

Before your mouth can form a response, the phone at Taehyung’s desk rings. 

He gives you a small bow to pardon him before he jogs to his desk to pick up the phone.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Of course, Mr. Min,” Taehyung looks at you a few times, pointing at the phone. “I’ll send her right up.”

Taehyung's eyes widen at you before hanging up the phone.

You come to the threshold of your office, leaning your head on the frame.

“Was it Min?” You ask, and Taehyung nods in response. 

“He wants to see you immediately. Didn’t specify what it was for.” 

You chew at your lip and then dig in your pocket, tossing him your corporate card.

“I’m so sorry, Tae. Do you mind staying until I come back? There’s just a lot going on this week with the product launch, and I’m sure he’ll add more to my plate,” Taehyung puts his hand up and shakes it.

“Of course. Anything you need.” He responds, slipping the plastic card in his pocket.

“Thank you.” You whisper, your hands in a prayer. He bows as his eyes watch you walk off.

Taehyung rolls his chair up to his desk, and he hits a few digits on the dialpad.

“Gonna be another long one,” Taehyung sighs out into the receiver.

“Same here Tete,” The singsong voice responds, equally as disappointed.

“I should have your cock in my mouth right now, but I’m here ordering takeout for the third time this week,” The voice whines.

“Jimin!” Taehyung growls into the phone, but the sound quickly dissolves into a laugh.

“What’s so funny? It’s not good for my figure,” Taehyung can tell there’s a pout in Jimin’s voice.

“Especially my ass.” Jimin continues, the pout growing deeper.

“I love your ass. Shutup.” Taehyung chuckles. “You said you’re stuck here late too?”

“Yeah. I know the product launch is coming, but Joon never stops working.” Jimin whines. “He got called upstairs by Min a few seconds ago.” Taehyung gasps and sits up in his chair, rolling it closer to his desk.

“Hmm…” Taehyung hums. He places his elbows on the surface, using his free hand to ruffle his silver locks.

“What? You sound interested.” Jimin inquires, and Taehyung drums the desk with his fingers.

“My boss did too.”

✹✹✹

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The slow ticking of the clock snips through your veins. You press the nail of your index finger into the flesh of your thumb, creating a small crescent-shaped indent in your skin. 

You feel your heart picking up pace in your chest; steady thumps beating at your ribcage. You turn your hand around to stare at the indentation on your skin, waiting for it to vanish. It does, slowly.

You look at your boss through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his office, his mouth busy moving in response to someone on the other end of the phone’s receiver. His hair is a textured bowl of platinum blonde, and his long, bony fingers move through a mass of papers on his desk.

You’re unsure of why you’ve been summoned; Yoongi never summoned anyone to his office unless it was serious. Being two days out from a product launch with you at the marketing helm...well, that was never a good sign.

After a moment, heavy, confident footsteps echo through the hall.

You see a man -- all legs in his dark, smartly tailored pants -- and he immediately diverts attention from your buzzing thoughts. His aura fills the entire space, and you sit up straight in your chair.

The man’s long wool trench coat brushes at his ankles, the black fabric stiff at the tips of his shoulders. He shrugs the coat off and carefully folds it in half, placing it on the chair behind him.

He suddenly feels your eyes on him from across the room, and his sharp gaze snaps over to meet yours. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and he extends his hand across the coffee table between the two of you.

“Kim Namjoon. I’m guessing you don’t know why you’re here either?” His voice comes out in a dark, velvety tone, catching you off guard. Your eyes can't help but fix on his as you shake his hand.

“Not a clue,” You respond coolly, and the dimples in his cheeks make themselves known.

You clear your throat as his eyes hang onto yours in return, and you feel your lips subtly part. Snapping yourself from his aura, you quickly release his hand and look around the room to find something else to concentrate on.

“Guess we’ll find out...” Namjoon shrugs, sliding back in his seat. You offer him a nod in response, nervously swallowing the exchange down your throat.

You then cross your legs, pretending to be busy on your phone. 

After processing the interaction, Namjoon licks the inside of his cheek -- his head hanging down in a mild defeat for a second. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a tattered copy of The Art of Loving.

As he reads, your eyes peel from your phone and notice the way his turtleneck hugs his form, the dark fabric dipping in at the valley between his firm chest. A few lavender-tinted hairs slide from Namjoon’s slicked back style into his dark brown eyes, and his smokey gaze suddenly rises up to meet yours.

Fuck. He’s caught you.

Your eyes widen in a few seconds of brief panic and dart back down to your phone. You move your thumb around through the pages of apps; it’s all you can manage so suddenly.

Namjoon smiles to himself as he looks back down, quietly dipping a finger to his tongue to stick to a page of his book. 

Before he’s able to turn the page, Yoongi pops his head from the office.

“You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning his head in your direction.

You nod and watch Yoongi shuffle back to his desk.

You inhale and smooth your skirt as you stand, noticing Namjoon’s eyes following your fingers as they glide over the red fabric adorning your curves. He calmly looks back down and blushes as you catch him; his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he pretends to continue on with his book.

“Wish me luck,” You notice the way his gaze lit something sexual afire in you, but you couldn’t pay any attention to that right now. “Nice meeting you.” 

Namjoon looks up at you again, his fingers tense on the pages of the book.

“Likewise.” Namjoon’s smouldering eyes are fixed on you as he responds, and his gaze continues to follow you into Yoongi’s office.

You reach a chair across from Yoongi’s desk, sneaking a glance at Namjoon one last time over your shoulder.

Namjoon exhales the tension from his body as he watches you take a seat.

✹✹✹

You sit in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, admiring the glittering cityscape behind him.

“I love being in here. It’s so refreshing.” You sigh, your eyes floating back to Yoongi.

“Yeah, kid? Well, it could be yours soon,” He chuckles. “I’m actually sick of looking at it. I’m ready to move onto my next venture.” Yoongi says this as if he’s in his forties, but he’s the youngest CEO in the vicinity. It's indicated by a giant, framed magazine cover of himself on a wall in his office: Top 30 Under 30 in Technology.

“C-Come again?” You murmur as you’re taken by surprise, and you sit up in your seat.

“You heard me. I want either you -- the CMO -- or Kim, the CTO running things," Yoongi says, standing up. He calls you over with his finger, motioning for you to sit in his chair. "Either of you are my best shot.”

You plop down in the cushy leather fabric, and your eyes meet Namjoon’s again. You purse your lips together and swirl the chair around to face the cityscape.

“How’s that feel?” Yoongi asks as he adjusts his cream turtleneck.

“Damn good.” You growl, your nails digging into the armrests.

“Well, there’s no reward without risk,” He says, and you raise your head in interest. 

“Try me, Min.” You demand as you cross your legs, leaning back in the chair.

“I want you to launch the product in my place at TechX this week.” He mentions casually, and you shriek in response as you shoot up from your seat.

“You can’t be serious, Min!” You throw your hands on your hips. “Isn’t that in two days? In Vegas? And like, the largest product launch ever for this company? ” You inquire, looking over at Yoongi.

“See! You understand the gravity of this launch. And yeah, and I haven’t even finished the keynote yet,” Yoongi cackles, slapping his thigh. “Partner with Kim on the presentation. It’s in front of twenty-thousand too, so make it good.” He sits down, racking away at the keys on his laptop. 

“You and Kim are both equally matched in terms of qualifications, so whoever can secure the biggest investors to ensure the longevity of the company will get a leg up in interviewing for the position.” Yoongi continues nonchalantly.

“Got it?” He taps one last key, stopping only to look up at you.

“Yes, Sir.” You nod, feeling a tightness creep into your chest.

✹✹✹

“Jimin, can you book my accommodations, please?” 

Jimin hands Namjoon a bag of takeout before he rolls his chair up to his desk. 

“Vegas, leaving tomorrow. Business class. King bed. That hotel that’s hosting the conference. You know the deal.” He rattles out, taking the bag of food. 

“Of course, Sir.” Jimin nods, watching Namjoon walk into his office.

Jimin navigates through a few windows on his screen before settling on a corporate travel portal. He’s able to book the flight without a problem, but the hotel is where he’s running into issues. He quickly dials up Taehyung, waiting for the other side of the call to pick up.

“Are you seeing the same thing?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung clicks his tongue.

“No rooms, right-” Jimin starts. “Just one left…” Taehyung cuts in to finish his sentence.

“But shit, there’s your boss and my boss.” Jimin twirls his finger around the coiled cord, pondering what to do next.

Jimin hears a eureka snap on the other end of the line.

“Crazy ass idea here, Jiminie,” Taehyung chuckles. 

"What is it Taehyungie?" Jimin purrs out, the curiosity rising in his voice at the end of the question.

“What if...they just stayed in the same room together? There’s only one King room available, and it’s the last room in the hotel. They’re both so...particular.” Taehyung continues, pressing his mouth into the receiver to keep his voice low.

Jimin throws his head back so far in laughter that his chair tips over. Taehyung hears a crash on the other end of the line, and hears shuffling noises as Jimin gets back up.

“Fell off your chair again?”

“Y-Yeah. God you're a genius! An evil one,” Jimin gathers his breaths. 

“I mean...she’s fucking hot. And she’s single as fuck because she’s holed up here every night.” Taehyung whispers into the receiver, making sure to glance over to check that you’re immersed in work.

“And Joon’s smoking hot, too. He’d melt her icy panties right off,” Jimin clicks his tongue before he slaps his desk.

“Dammit, we’re doing it. Think about it. Off work by five? What a world.” Jimin chirps, clicking away at his screen. “To add an extra layer of fun, I’m checking the romance option.”

“Jimin! Jimin. They’re gonna kill each other.” Taehyung giggles, gasping to catch his breath.

“Either they share a room and let romance bloom, or its whack-a-roach at the Motel 6.” Jimin’s tone is confident, but it makes Taehyung erupt into another fit of laughter.

“What? What’s the worst that could happen?” Jimin commands a response, but Taehyung continues to laugh.

“Mmm...we lose our fucking jobs?” Taehyung responds darkly.

The two pause for a second, but continue laughing into their phones.

✹✹✹

“What’re the topline details for the trip, Tae?” You ask, sliding on your sunglasses and pulling a handle up on your hardside luggage.

“Your flight...as you know is in three hours, and your car’s outside right now.” Taehyung walks up to you, handing you an iPad with a copy of your itinerary. “You’ll be staying at the Palazzo where the conference is held, and check-in should be getting started as soon as you arrive.”

“Mwah. You’re the fucking best,” You chef’s kiss your fingers. “This is exactly why I hired you.”

You pull your luggage behind you, but Taehyung puts his hand up. 

“Try not to get too excited. Please note that the room I was able to secure for you was the last room at the hotel two days before a conference of this size,” Taehyung says, pulling his hands behind his back.

“Okay...your point being?” You ask, pulling your sunglasses down to look into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Uhm, so, how do I put this?” Taehyung asks himself rhetorically, drawing his foot across the floor nervously.

“Tae...” You growl, your gaze slowly turning into a glare.

“Erm, you’ll have to share the room,” He starts. 

“With Kim Namjoon.” He winces as he gets the words out.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and your iPad crashes to the floor.

✹✹✹

You peruse through a luxurious spread of food in the airport lounge: crabsticks with melted butter drizzling from them, exotic finger sandwiches, spreads and dips and the like. You grab tongs, dropping a few items onto a small plate. You quickly look through the drinks on display and decide on sparkling water. 

Suddenly, you spot Namjoon arriving in the lounge and you quickly tuck the bottle of sparkling water into your armpit. You grab your plates, quickly followed by your luggage and make a mad dash for a secluded cubby in the back area.

You quickly throw on your headphones and prop up your iPad as you swipe through a few documents. 

Just as you stuff a crabstick in your mouth, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look at the fingers, then up the veined arm wrapped with white cotton fabric, and you see Namjoon.

He licks his lips, letting out a shy chuckle just before he speaks.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?”

“Mm-maybh, ‘nd wh-r about it?” You blink at him, your words unintelligible as you slowly chew a mouthful of seafood. You furrow your brows, slightly irked by Namjoon seeing you in this state.

“I’m sure those two jokesters told you,” He continues, and you shrug as you delicately bite a small cucumber and cream cheese sandwich. “That you’ll be my roommate for the next two days.”

“I didn’t hear it, and I won’t acknowledge it,” You retort, dropping the last bite of the sandwich in your mouth. “I’m going to find another room if it’s the last thing I do.” You dust crumbs from your hands but stop as Namjoon lets out another light chuckle.

“There aren’t anymore in the whole of Vegas. I checked myself. The only other hotel left in town is the Trump Tower,” He crosses his arms and then shakes his head. “And no one wants to be caught dead there.”

“Fuck!” You can’t help but scream out, and a few people turn to look in your direction. You bury your head in your hands, and comb your hands through your hair in frustration.

Namjoon taps your shoulder again and you look up.

“Finger sandwich?” He asks, licking a finger as you glare up at him.

✹✹✹

A flight attendant walks by the two of you to do a visual safety check, and you’re in the middle seat -- Namjoon in the aisle. 

“Champagne? Champagne? Water?” Another attendant walks by with a tray full of alcoholic beverages. You spot her, reaching over Namjoon to grab a drink off the tray. She lets out a gasp, shock entangling her features. 

The beverage quickly makes its way down your throat, and you slam the plastic cup back on the tray. 

“Sorry. She’s not having the best of days,” Namjoon whispers to her and finishes his off as well, handing it to the attendant. She scoffs, continuing on down the aisle.

You shuffle your hand in your bag to locate your iPad, slipping it from its sleeve. As you look at the screen you sigh, your eyes roving over the deep cracks.

“Please turn all devices to airplane mode as we prepare for departure…”

The plane starts to rattle over the tarmac, turning to face a new direction every so often.

“What the heck happened to that thing?” Namjoon asks, leaning over to look at the fractured device.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” You respond without looking at him. You swipe through a screen of apps before clicking into Keynote. “I scanned through the presentation, and Yoongi was nowhere near done. We’ll need to wrap up by tomorrow evening.”

“We’ll also need to submit some requests to the photographer and Design team so that the remaining graphics and specs will be ready by the time we land in six hours…”

Namjoon nods, watching as you swipe through the slides, breezing through improvements for each. Your words seem to fade out, and he finds himself enamored by your gung-ho nature as he watches you speak.

“Got it?” You ask and notice Namjoon is silent, causing you to turn your head in his direction.

You search his eyes for a response, noticing his pupils are blown as he looks at you. He covers his throat so as to not give away the unexpected heat rising up his skin.

“Sure thing. I’ll have the Product team get right on all of that,” Namjoon responds before he looks down to type an email into his phone.

You look back down at your iPad, nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

You take a second to press your head back to the seat as the plane takes off.

Namjoon reaches below the seat in front of him and pulls out his iPad to begin typing information into the slides. He glances over at you furiously typing and swiping before you grimace.

“Ow, fff-” You growl, looking at your index finger. 

Blood starts to pool in a small cut, and Namjoon takes notice. You look over at him and watch him reach into his bag to pull out a travel-sized first aid kit. He takes out a small alcohol wipe and grabs your finger, pinching the towelette to it. You wince, sucking air in through your teeth.

“You should really get that fixed.” He says as he takes a small bandaid and covers the cut.

“Uhm, I will. Thank you.” You say quietly as you search his eyes, and then tuck your hair behind your ear again. 

You break eye contact with him as your heart starts to patter in your chest...and fuck. You know you're in trouble from here on out.

Namjoon chuckles to himself through his nose as he takes a world newspaper from an attendant.

The newspaper covers his face and you sneak to observe your finger -- trying to not let a smile curl up on the edges of your lips.

✹✹✹

“Checking in?”

A woman asks you in a singsong voice and you nod, motioning for Namjoon to give you his identification card. 

You're tired, hungry and irritable from the flight and certainly not willing to engage with this ultra-chipper woman right now.

“Ugh, beautiful! How long have you two been together?” She asks, smiling as she looks at the two of you.

“We’re not a couple and we’ve only just met, why do you ask?” You inquire, swiping through a few things on a digital screen anchored to the desk in front of you.

“Oh...you’re not?” You stop what you’re doing and look up at her. “No. We’re here for the TechX conference.”

The woman releases a nervous breath from her throat and readjusts her blouse.

“Well...oh my, the room I have booked for the two of you is one of our most romantic rooms.” She giggles out nervously, not sure what to do as she hands you a sleeve of keycards.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Taehyung when I get back,” You grumble, taking your credit card and the sleeve before you march off toward the elevator.

The elevator lobby is packed, and both you and Namjoon slip into a crowded elevator.

You find yourself suddenly sandwiched between the back of a woman and the front of Namjoon, and you tighten your muscles so you don’t make bodily contact with either of them.

The elevator jerks as it reaches the floor before yours, and Namjoon collapses over you. He looks down at you as his hands land to press on the wall on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

“God, sorry,” He groans as he waits for other people to exit before he can steadily stand on his own two feet. Your eyes grow wide as you look up at him, a prickly heat creeping up your throat. His face is so close to yours from the fall that you can feel his breaths on your skin. 

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking over at you as he’s able to stand up straight.

Namjoon thinks nothing of the brief moment, but you gulp and give him a silent nod.

“This is us.” He says before he clears the way, watching you walk out in front of him.

✹✹✹

As you enter the room, you hear smooth jazz floating from a digital radio.

You drop to your knees: you see rose petals on the bed, a bucket with ice and champagne, a towel swan and a bouquet of additional roses wrapped with packages of chocolate. You drop your head into your hands and laugh out loud, and Namjoon looks down at you. His eyes quickly scan the room and he lets out a screech before he covers his stomach to laugh.

“I-I s-swear we were set up,” You gasp for air through your laughs. “God.”

“The wall between the shower and our room is frosted. Frosted!” Namjoon yells as he waves his hand through it to show you as you approach. 

You both can’t help but giggle.

“God. I haven’t laughed that hard in so long,” You mention, swiping a tear hanging on at the edge of your eye. Namjoon smiles, his dimples lighting up his face.

There’s a sudden silence as your eyes meet, and you try to find something to busy yourself with -- deciding on unraveling the towel swan.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower. We can just relax for now as we wait for everything to come in.” You quickly open your luggage and pull out a swimsuit and a cover up before heading into the bathroom.

“And oh. Please be an adult...no peeking?” You raise your brows as you pop your head from the bathroom. 

Namjoon nods in agreement, beginning to unpack his luggage. He grabs his clothes nonchalantly to head to a nearby drawer, but he unintentionally catches your silhouette in the shower.

Namjoon gulps as he feels a tightness growing in his jeans. He clears his throat, continuing on with placing his clothes into the drawer.

✹✹✹

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m so sorry. It was the best we could do under the circumstances, and yes-” Taehyung nods his head as Jimin takes another bite of a sushi roll.

“Oof, was that her?” Jimin asks, swiping his mouth with a napkin. 

“God, yeah. She’s pissed. And she yelled. She never yells at me, Jiminie.” Taehyung pouts.

Jimin laughs as he throws his head back, rubbing Taehyung’s back.

“Don’t worry Taehyungie,” He giggles. “I’m sure they’ll thank us soon enough.”

Taheyung smiles at him and opens his mouth to receive one of the rolls on his tongue.

The two giggle as they look at each other, mouths full.

✹✹✹

You swim in the Olympic-sized pool at the hotel before you pop up from underneath. 

A hand runs through your hair to smooth it on your head before you start to float on your back. The intense rays of the sun start to heat up your skin, but you nearly moan at how good it feels.

Namjoon settles down in a lounge chair before he sees you with your eyes closed on the water. 

You only have on a swimsuit, but in a man’s mind it was the near-equivalent of seeing you in your underwear. 

Namjoon attempts to sneak away before you can spot him, but your eyes open just as he does.

“Hey! Kim Namjoon! Is that you?” You shout, paddling up to the edge of the pool. He grimaces and meets you at the edge, looking down at you.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?” You throw his question from earlier back at him, smirking.

“What? No.” Namjoon scoffs and clenches his jaw -- a bit delighted, a bit turned on.

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows, still awaiting a real answer. His thoughts are still racing for a clever response and you can tell he’s caught off-guard.

You emerge from the water, toweling your hair and body. His eyes widen as he tries to keep them focused on your face, and you smirk at him again. 

"Cat got your tongue?" You tease, wringing out your hair.

The devilish look in your eyes shoots straight to his water trunks and he presses his legs together. He quickly wraps the towel in his hand around his waist to cover himself before you detect anything, and your eyes follow his movements.

“Uhm, you know what...I don’t feel too well,” His voice trembles. “I’m gonna go back to the room.”

Namjoon takes off in a hurry, and you scoff as your brows come together in confusion.

✹✹✹

Namjoon lets out a few strained moans as he tugs at cock -- now rock hard and bulging with thick veins. His eyes squeeze shut as you come into memory, and he attempts to regulate his arousal through deep, frantic exhales. 

The way the sun was kissing your body, the movement of the water as it drizzled down into the valley between your breasts, the smirk and banter that lit his desire alight. He gasps as he strokes his cock faster, his grip growing firmer by the second. He feels his balls tighten, his cock growing stiffer with lust. 

He growls as he nears cumming, taking a moment to spit on in his hand and spread it generously over his shaft. He jerks his cock as fast as he can, his wrist snapping in different directions to switch up the sensation of his movements. He bucks into his hand at the last few moments, wondering what it’d be like to have you atop his cock instead. 

Namjoon cries out before his cock hardens, his thick load pulsing in random patterns across his chest. 

"Fuck," He suddenly hears footsteps floating down the hall and he swiftly pulls his trunks up.

He grabs a few tissues from the night table to quickly wipe himself off.

“Namjoon? I’m back,” You announce as you open the door. “The pool’s great, you can’t miss it.”

You enter and he tosses the tissues to the ground.

You observe that Namjoon’s form is rigid and that he’s sitting up on the bed as he scrolls through his phone. Something’s weird and quiet about the energy in the room, but you just shrug it off.

“Hey.” His tone is stoic, but you can sense his voice is caught in his throat before he clears it.

“Should we close out the final pieces of the presentation tonight?” Namjoon continues, his eyes now following you as you walk around the room.

“Sure thing, eight sound good?” You ask, smiling in his direction.

All he can do is look at you with his eyes wide and nod.

✹✹✹

“How’d you find this place?” You ask, picking up one of the books stacked on the table for display.

The rest of the bar is almost like a library -- straight from Beauty and the Beast. You look up and around as bookshelves from every angle are filled with books.

"Your drinks." A waiter arrives, carefully placing each drink on the table.

"I like to wander and I stumbled upon it. I frequent here when I come to Vegas," Namjoon smiles at you, satisfied with himself. "It's a nice place to unwind and get work done outside of the hotel." You nod, impressed with his response.

"I love all of the giant KAWS figurines here, too," You mention, and he turns his head to look at you. "The valuation on those in a few years is gonna be insane."

"Oh, you like art, too?" He tries to hide the gush in his voice, but you chuckle to yourself.

"Sure do." You reply, taking a few small sips from your cup as you look at him.

As Namjoon sips at his Jameson whiskey on the rocks, you can't help but absorb his carefully slicked back hair and the leather jacket on his frame.

Namjoon notices from his peripheral and bites his lip as subtly as he can, drawing his iPad from his briefcase.

After a few minutes, he looks up from what he's typing to see you've already downed half of your drink. You drop the cup from your lips and your eyes grow wide with embarrassment.

"God, sorry, please don't judge me," You chuckle as you peel the drink from your mouth and lick your lips. "They only have good French Martinis in two places in the world. Vegas, and Europe."

Namjoon chuckles back at you, and you notice his eyes float down to your lips. 

Your breath quickens for a second, but he breaks eye contact by looking down. He purses his lips and his dimples pop out before he looks at you through his lashes.

"You've got a little something..." He motions at the foam on your upper lip, and you attempt to swipe it with your tongue. He shakes his head a few times as you continue licking your lips to no avail.

"May I?" He asks warmly. With a nod from you, he takes a miniature napkin to wipe your top lip. He's so close that you can smell the spice of his cologne, and you look into his eyes. 

A slight panic forms in his gaze before he pulls back.

“There.” He says without looking at you, placing the napkin on the table.

Both of you shake the interaction off, and you reach into your bag to pull out your iPad.

"I had Taehyung drop in the graphics. All we have to do is finish up the text," You say as you start to type, and Namjoon brings his focus back to his slides.

"Got it. I had Jimin drop in the brief outline he retrieved from the Product Lead, so we can just work from that as we go along." Namjoon chimes in, and you nod.

"I'll activate the full social strategy and content team back at the office," You continue as you type. "I'll let them know that we're almost locked so they can get ready to fire up the site and social promotions."

Namjoon smiles to himself again, absorbing the incredible synergy between the two of you. It only pushes him harder...and makes him harder. He clenches his jaw as he feels the sensation filling his lower half, but he shakes his leg to stay focused.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask, looking down at his leg.

"Hmm?" He asks, not even noticing his leg still moving. 

"Oh!" He says looking down and stretching his foot out, but it bumps yours instead.

"Fuck. Sorry!" He yelps. You chortle, continuing on with writing. 

You look at him for a bit through your peripheral, admiring his absolute focus on the task at hand. He picks up a pen to draw it around his plump lips, and you can't help but feel a twinge between your thighs. You inhale and let out a breath to take your focus off the sensation.

Just as you do, a crackle of thunder rips through the air and a few customers gasp and break into a din. 

You and Namjoon look at each other, and a few flashes of lightning light up each of your features in the dim bar.

"We should get going before it rains," Namjoon says as he starts to pack his bag. "We can finish this up at the hotel." 

You follow suit.

✹✹✹

As the two of you walk outside, the rain begins to trickle. Despite the warm Vegas air from earlier, the temperature significantly dropped in the evening and it made you shiver.

Namjoon notices, and despite him being cold -- he drops his coat on your shoulders.

"Oh. Please don't do that on my behalf." You say as you look up at him, but he keeps walking.

You couldn't worry long, noticing as raindrops begin to soak Namjoon's white tee.

"Just up here," He looks down at you and points at the hotel, but it suddenly starts to pour. He grabs your hand to quickly pull you across the street before the light changes, and you pull his jacket over your head.

Namjoon doesn't stop running until the two of you land in an empty elevator. He sighs, slicking his wet hair back with a hand. You notice that his shirt is soaked, seeping into the grooves of his firm chest and abdomen.

You arrive at the door to your room, nervously shuffling in your bag for your keycard. You can feel Namjoon's warm breath at the back of your neck, and you feel goosebumps form on your skin.

"Here." He says, reaching around you to insert his key. You feel as his body heat radiates around you as you walk through the door.

As you enter the room you shiver at the blast of air conditioning -- pulling Namjoon's coat further over your shoulders.

Namjoon returns from the bathroom with a towel, and removes his jacket from your frame. 

“Sorry, it’s totally my fault for suggesting a place so far away,” He wraps the warm fluffy towel over your shoulders, and you close your eyes in comfort.

"No, it was really fun," You open your eyes after a few seconds, shaking your head as you look up at him.

Namjoon almost looks away as you open your eyes, but his gaze fixates on yours -- causing you to lose the breath in your throat as you quickly look down.

"Thank you." Your voice only manages to come out in a whisper. You somehow get the courage to let your eyes scan his body, and then look back up to meet him still looking down at you.

Namjoon’s chest lightly rises and falls as neither of you break eye contact -- his eyes floating to your lips. He tucks your hair behind your ear, and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb moves to trace over your jawline and your bottom lip as he moves in to hover his lips over yours.

The air buzzes with a sparkling heat as your lips brush together -- neither of you wanting to be the first to make a move.

“We shouldn’t do this, right?” He whispers, the tip of his nose grazing over yours.

"No..." You whisper back, a bated desire in your voice. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” You give him a slow nod, drawing your bottom lip in-between your teeth.

You lick your lips and he tilts your head to the side, his own lips inside the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“That red dress...from yesterday? It was all I could think about for the rest of the night.” The deep vibrations from his voice causes you to let out a satisfied moan as you tilt your head back.

“Does that turn you on?” He asks, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips.

A heated lust overcomes you, and you let your lips feverishly embrace his. Your hands roam up his wet body and land over his shoulders before you pull him closer to you by the back of his neck. The momentum dizzies you both and your back slams into the wall.

His hands move to your waist as he covers you, pulling you flush against his hard, wet body. It causes your lips to part, and he slips his searing tongue into your mouth. You easily lose the upper hand as he grips your ass, causing you to let out a whine into his mouth. His plush lips kiss at your neck, and you run your hands through his damp hair as his kisses reach your collarbones.

Namjoon moves to wipe all of the items off a cabinet near you, and the chocolate and roses crash to the floor. He throws you on top of the surface, his lips eagerly gliding over yours.

Namjoon's hands roam up your dress and on the outside of your thighs as his fingers tuck under the top of the fabric of your underwear. He tugs at the fabric as if he's going to remove it, but he jerks it up hard instead -- soothing the growing ache between your thighs. He twists the fabric in a bunch so he can keep pulling at it in intervals to soothe your clit.

Your head falls back in desperation and he takes the opportunity to suck a hickey into the exposed skin. He nibbles at the skin harder and you gasp, gripping the back of his mullet.

Namjoon growls into your ear as you pull his hair, and yanks your underwear down each of your thighs.

Just as he does, he feels his wrist buzz. He pulls from your lips to look at his watch.

[Assistant: Park Jimin.]

Namjoon lets out a long exhale through his nose. He rests his forehead on yours, both of your lips still swollen and vibrating from the session.

"I have to take this," He lets out in a deep exhale before touching a green icon on his watch to receive the call.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Jimin asks, hearing Namjoon’s intense breaths cooling on his end.

"Just came from the gym, don't worry about me. What’s on fire?" He breathes out, and the edges of your lips curl upward at the lie.

"Nothing at all, Sir. I've just called to give your daily rundown as requested." Namjoon sighs, forgetting it’s something he did in fact ask for.

“Can I call you back in five?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head.

After Jimin hangs up, Namjoon immediately dives back into your lips. You savor it for a few seconds, but you tease him a few times as you pull away.

"I think we should finish up in the morning and get to bed," You whisper, your hand floating down his cheek. "Long day tomorrow." You bite your lip as you look into his eyes.

Namjoon lightly growls in disappointment as he pulls you down from the top of the cabinet.

You lift your hair up into a ponytail, and you turn around and look over your shoulder.

“Mind helping me with the zip?” You ask, and you feel the heat from his breath at the back of your neck drawing goosebumps from your skin. His breaths shallow out with every inch of the zip, and he lets out a light groan as it ends at the curve of your back -- just before your ass.

“Thanks.” You whisper as you head toward the bathroom, looking over your shoulder once more with a grin before you disappear around the corner.

Namjoon waits to make sure you’re gone before he screams into his fist out of frustration.

✹✹✹

“Seeya, I’m gonna head over to the conference hall to start getting prepped,” Namjoon mentions, stuffing a croissant in his mouth as he picks up his briefcase. “You said you’ll be a few minutes behind me, right?” He asks, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose.

“Uhm, sure! Yes! Yesyesyesyes. Have a nice day!” You nod eagerly, your eyes wide as you watch him head toward the door. He furrows his brows, finding you a bit too enthusiastic.

As the door shuts, you hear his footfalls disappear down the hall and you toss your robe to the ground.

You take in a deep inhale. You knew you needed to be focused for this presentation, and you definitely couldn't have what happened last night top of mind.

Where to start? Him eyeing you in the office? The wet t-shirt? Oh, yes. There.

You sink down in the bed and slowly spread your legs, your fingers gliding over your already wet lips. You gasp in pleasure as you recall his plump lips dragging on your neck -- his teeth embedded in the sensitive flesh. It’s enough for you to dip a finger inside of yourself -- make it two -- before you let out a moan.

The thing that really made you wet, though, was his mind. The fucking book bar? Kudos. His knowledge of the product? Points. A tattered copy of a book about love? You were practically dripping down your thighs at the thought. Those nerdy glasses he wore before he left this morning? Fuck me.

It’s all enough to make you cum until-

Bzz. Beep.

You quickly draw the covers up on your frame and you can feel your cheeks burning as Namjoon enters the room.

“I...left my coffee...” He says cautiously, seeing your robe on the floor before his eyes meet yours. “Uhm, sorry?” His voice comes out in a high, questioning pitch -- and he grabs his coffee before he hurries himself out the door.

As the door shuts, you kick your feet around in the bed and then slap your forehead.

Fuck. He caught you.

[qlala]

pleeease can we have more teacher barry au? or kidfic? my crops are dying

Alright, sorry for the slight delay on this one, but please know that you're a menace and I kept thinking about it and then I wrote this for you all in one sitting.

It's both teacher!Barry (though still set in the canon universe!) and coldflash kidfic. <3 I just put it up as a prequel to "good cop, bad cop" on ao3, since I guess it technically is that? Although, if you guys have opinions about what order the series should be in, I'd interested to hear it!

“Barry?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got something in your hair.”

Barry hid a wry grin, and glanced over at Len—at least, glanced as far in his direction as he could manage. Two small hands were holding his head still, though Henry did let go of one handful of Barry’s hair to reach out when Len stepped around the coffee table and stood in front of them.

“Alright, kid.” Len bent down and hoisted Henry off Barry’s shoulders, and both of them ignored Barry’s indignant yelp when Henry didn’t quite remember to let go of Barry with his other hand in time. “I like the hair too, but he’s gotta move his head to”—Len propped Henry on his hip and reached out to steal the top page from the stack of papers in front of Barry—“grade pop quizzes.”

“Those are midterms.” Barry stretched, then tipped his head to one side with a muffled crack.

“Then you’re going easy on them.” Len took advantage of his distraction to hand the paper to Henry, who scrunched it in his hand with a broad smile.

[read on ao3, or continue reading below the cut]

“Len!” Barry recovered the paper in a sweep of yellow lightning, and Len traced his trajectory from the fading after-image even as Barry tried to smooth out the test on the arm of the couch.

“So feet on the coffee table are allowed when the Flash does it?”

“Language,” Barry reminded him, without looking up.

Henry, ever the trooper, was taking the loss of his prize in stride, and Len rewarded him by bending his knees to let him reach for the next paper in the stack.

“Leonard.”

“He’s working on his reading.”

“He’s eighteen months old.”

Len read the upside-down paper Henry was offering to him. “Another year for whoever’s test this was, they might be at his level.”

Barry got the same ruffled look he always did when he was torn between defending his students and agreeing with every hyperbolic praise Len had for their son. Eventually, he landed on, “You’re not helping.”

“I disagree.” Len accepted the paper from Henry, turned it right-side up, and finished skimming it. “You’ve got a typo in question three. That’s why they’re all putting ‘hydrogen.’”

Barry yanked the exam back, despite having a stack of identical ones on the table in front of him. His eyes went wide as he looked over it at Flash speed, and then he said a word that made Len cover one of Henry’s ears with his free hand and tut.

“You shape the minds of the next generation with that mouth?”

Barry wasn’t listening, too busy dragging his hand down his face, his fingers ending up in an annoyed fist over his mouth.

“Can you please,” he said slowly, evenly, with the couples-shrink-approved, conflict-management voice that always made Len smirk, “give Henry his snack.”

“With pleasure.”

Barry leveled him a glare, but it was without heat, and he tilted his chin up in a clear request for a kiss when Len passed behind the couch again.

Len obliged. He could feel some of the stress drain out of Barry’s shoulders when he drew his fingertips over the edge of Barry’s jaw with the hand not still supporting Henry.

“Hi,” Barry murmured when Len pulled back, at least a full minute later than he’d intended. “Missed you.”

“I was gone an hour.”

Barry’s answering smile was crooked, with an unabashed dimple that Len refrained from tracing his thumb over; he had a reputation to protect. “You know, you could just say it back sometimes.”

“Fine.” Len smirked as he tweaked a cowlick that Henry had left in Barry’s hair. Then he met Barry’s gaze, all false sincerity, and drawled, “Hi.”

Barry rolled his eyes. He couldn’t hide the wry smile even when he turned his head away for a second, though, and he gave Len a playful glare. “You know I meant—“

“Hi!”

For a second, neither of them moved. Then Barry reeled back with something like panic in his eyes, alarmingly contagious, based on the way Len’s heart tripped into fourth gear. “Did he just—“

Len hoisted Henry up to sit on the edge of the couch, and they both stared at him. He ignored them both for a few moments, small hand squishing the cushion before he watched it slowly expand back to its original shape. Then he noticed their eyes on him, and looked up with a beatific smile. “Hi!”

Barry was off the couch in a bolt of lightning, then back a heartbeat later with his phone out, talking so fast he was nearly incomprehensible. “Twice, Joe, I swear, he looked right at us—“

Len got a glimpse of Detective West’s patient expression on the phone screen as Barry waved it toward Henry. “Barr, you said that the last three times. I told you, kids talk when they’re ready. Iris didn’t say a word until she was—“

Barry turned the phone and held the screen out to Henry. Len bit back a reflexive objection; they’d agreed, no screens until he was five (and it’d be eighteen if Len had his way).

Henry reached out for the phone, all Barry’s reckless confidence when confronted with anything new.

Tinny over the speakerphone, West’s voice said, weary but unflaggingly affectionate, “Hi, Henry.”

Barry let Henry have the phone—and that time, Len did shoot him a look—and Henry flattened a tiny palm over West’s face on the screen. Then he tilted his head thoughtfully, lifted his hand, and chirped a delighted, “Hi!”

Barry swept him up with a rush of static that made Henry shriek with laughter, phone forgotten in an instant. Barry deposited them both at Len’s side with a breathless grin, and Len didn’t quite manage to disguise his own smile as a smirk when they looked up at him in unison. West’s voice was still coming from somewhere nearby, but Barry could fish the phone out from between the cushions later. For now, Barry was getting suspiciously bright-eyed, and Len lifted Henry out his arms before Barry could set the kid off crying, too.

“Who had ‘hi?’” he asked. He ruffled Henry’s hair, already overdue for a cut, dark and curling up at the ends. Henry only allowed it a moment before he started to fuss, his snack clearly not forgotten despite the excitement.

“Iris,” Barry hiccuped. He wiped the heel of his hand over both cheeks, then said, “She had ‘hi’ and ‘bye.’ She’s gonna be insufferable.”

“She’s gonna be rich,” Len countered. “Mick put ten grand on ‘Flash.’”

Barry shook his head on a laugh. “You did explain to him that we’re specifically not letting people say that in front of him? Given the whole”—he gestured, with a glimmer of lightning that distracted Henry into a fresh smile—”child’s grasp of a secret identity?”

“And deprive the pool of his ill-gotten gains?” He passed Henry back to Barry and tapped him on the tip of his nose. “Never.”

“She’s just gonna put it in a college fund.”

Len hummed, and didn’t mention the account he’d already placed a quarter mil into at the credit union downtown.

Barry’s eyes narrowed all the same. “What was that?”

“What was what, dear?” Len leaned hard on the pet name, flat and sarcastic, but he knew even before Barry straightened up that it wouldn’t work.

“That ‘hmmm.’ That was an I’m-not-telling-you-something ‘hmmm.’”

Len was saved by the bell, literally.

Someone leaned hard on the buzzer to the front door. A second later—and utterly predictably, given the number of metas in the family Len had married into—Wally West phased through the door, bouncing on his toes and looking around the room before he even finished setting Iris on her feet.

“Joe says Iris won,” he said.

Barry tore his suspicious gaze away from Len to blink over at the new arrivals. “Joe knew about the pool?”

“People on six different earths knew about the pool, Barr,” Iris said. She leaned on Wally as she toed out of her work heels. “Now, give me my favorite nephew. Can you say, ‘journalism school,’ Henry?”

Barry let her scoop Henry out of his arms, his brow still furrowed. “Wait, six different earths? How much was in the pool?”

He sounded a hair indignant, and Len took the opportunity to snake an arm around his waist and pull him back against his chest.

“Say the word,” he murmured against Barry’s ear, smiling when he felt him shiver. “I’ll get you triple by dinner.”

He felt Barry’s heart speed up where his back was pressed against him, and Len nipped the shell of his ear to cement his victory.

“No felonies,” Barry reminded him, but his voice was breathless, and he didn’t disentangle himself from Len’s arms.

“Mm, forgot again,” Len lied. “How about we send Iris and Wally to show Henry’s first word to Joe in person, and I make it up to you?”

A blush was climbing steadily up Barry’s neck, and he’d already shown his hand when he said, “The midterms. Progress reports go out Friday, I have to—“

“Telling me the fastest man alive can’t grade a stack of ninth grade chemistry tests before third period tomorrow?”

“They’re for my AP class,” Barry gasped, and he caught Len’s hand where he’d been tracing his fingers down Barry’s stomach. But he cleared his throat, then said, “Iris? Maybe you wanna bring Henry to the station? It would make Joe’s day.”

Iris gave him a knowing look, but her eyes were warm when she shared her smile with Len. “Mm. I bet it’ll make someone’s day.”

“Singh’s, probably,” Wally said, where he’d been drawing increasingly elaborate flowers of static out of the speed force for Henry’s fickle amusement. Then he glanced up. “Oh. Oh, you meant—yeah. Alright. I’ll grab the diaper bag. And congrats, you guys. On the first word, not the—“

Iris patted his arm and interrupted with, “The station, Wally?”

Wally ducked his head on a nod and gave them both a sheepish grin.

“Make sure your father doesn’t arrest my sister,” Len said. “She’ll show up as soon as she gets the intel out of Cisco.”

“No promises,” Iris said. “But I’ll give him the heads up. Bye, boys.”

The after-image of Wally’s lightning hadn’t even dissipated when Barry dropped his back against Len’s shoulder, one foot tapping rapidly. “Are we bad parents?”

Len nosed at the corner of Barry’s jaw and slid his fingers under the hem of his shirt. “No.”

“Maybe we should—should’ve, uh, reinforced it, more. He might get—confused. He said ‘hi,’ but we—oh my god, did we even say ‘bye?’ Len—“

Len spun Barry and pushed him back against the couch, then kissed him to distract him from looking anxiously at the front door. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m overthinking this,” Barry agreed. “No, I’m not. Len, his snack—“

“There are snacks at the station. Joe has a drawer full of Cheerios.”

Barry slid a hand through his hair, gave one last jittery look toward the door, and then slumped back against the couch with a laugh. “You’re better at this than me.”

“Already did it once,” Len said, smoothing the worry out of Barry’s brow with the pad of his thumb. “And look how Lisa turned out.”

It didn’t land the way Len had aimed it to. Barry gave him a warm smile instead of an alarmed look, and Len had to tick his gaze away for a break from the earnestness in that expression.

“Yeah,” Barry said. “Yeah, okay. Now maybe we could, uh, stop saying our family members’ names for a little while?”

Len rolled his eyes, but he allowed Barry a brief smile as he hooked his fingers in the front of his belt. “I thought you’d never ask.”

*

*

[❤️ Link to Ao3 ❤️]

[agustdef]

That Couple

Pairing: Yugyeom x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warning: Mildly suggestive behavior. 

Rating: PG-13

My Lovely Beta: @hobeemin​

A/N: This is going to turn into a oneshot series. So... look out for that. LOL

“If you make me run through this again, we’re going to have a problem,” YN said right as Ariana Grande’s Positions began to play through the speakers.

The dancers behind her all nodded, but it was in the way they began dancing to the song that told her that they truly heard her. Every move was what it should have been with everyone’s own flair. They all moved where they should when they should and didn’t lose energy at any point as they performed. At a certain point, she stopped focusing on them and focused on herself as she danced with them.

Watching yourself through a mirror was a weird out of body experience, but over the years YN had gotten used to it and managed not to focus too much on her face as she watched. The mask that she wore also helped her out a great deal with the temptation that arose sometimes. Plus, she wanted to see if she herself was on par with what she expected from the others.

All that focus made the song pass quickly and then brought on the collapse of everyone, except her, onto the floor.

“And to think if you’d just done that six run throughs ago you’d already be off living your lives,” YN joked.

That earned some groans and curses from the girls, but they knew she was right. She’d only wanted about two hours to run through their performance for an upcoming concert and they’d done well until they got to Positions which was why she’d had them go over it more times than anything else. 

They probably hated her a little, but she wanted to ensure they were prepared. A K-Pop group’s first concert was one to remember for everyone and could change how people saw them if they gave great performances or phoned it in. And having worked with many groups that ended up disbanding or not reaching the heights they could always made YN work harder to ensure the next group or artist did as well as they could. 

And she thought that the girls she was working with were capable of greatness. Even as they crawled across the floor to grab their towels and water bottles.

YN smiled. “We’re done for the day, but I want y’all to do another run through before the day is over and twice tomorrow. Don’t repeat things, just go through the whole setlist to ensure that you have it. I know a lot of this is new choreography, so it takes a bit to sink in. But you’re doing really well.”

That seemed to give them a bit more energy and after a few more minutes of pulling it together, they packed up their things and left with promises to do as they were told. And with them and their managers gone it left YN on her own in the studio.

She didn’t mind it much and was happy to get some time to herself before she had other things to do. Especially since it had been so long since she’d had a moment to dance because she wanted to be silly for over a month. Work was a lot and she either created for someone else, taught, or danced in the background for something. By no means did she see that as a bad thing, because three years prior twenty-six-year-old Lisa struggled to keep consistent work, but it was all so tiring. By the end of most days, she ended up in bed or wanting to do anything but dance.

So, with her little window of time, she decided that was the time. YN redid the ponytail because she’d sweated and her hair got bigger, downed some water, and reapplied lotion to her elbows. The things were a darker brown than the rest of her from how often she hit them or did a move that had her pressing them into the floor. It was annoying, but not the end of the world.

Once ready she put her playlist on shuffle, turned the volume up, and got to it.

The first few songs were slower, which meant she had to adapt from all the more intense moves she’d done earlier. She was intentional and fluid with her moves, finding herself wrapped up in the music and truly just vibing. So, into it and watching herself that she ended up ripping off her mask and throwing it to the side, not even bothered by the sudden view of her full face.

However, despite the way those songs made her feel it wasn’t enough. YN needed more. She needed something that hit hard or something that allowed her to be a bit freer with what she was doing, so she stopped dancing and switched playlists to something that lacked the slower tempo songs. And the first song out of the gate rewarded her.

Ciara’s Goodies played and she danced the routine she’d learned as a kid for competitions. It was the first one she’d been allowed to choreograph herself and it had gotten her a high mark. Plus, it was just fun to fall back into something she knew so very well and thought was funny as hell.

From there it was more upbeat songs that she’d performed in the past or didn’t have a routine at all. It was just her moving however she wanted and she lived for it. 

About five songs into her second playlist the door to the room opened and she almost stopped until she noticed that it was just Monster Woo and his crew of dancers plus a few friends. She simply nodded at him and continued what she was doing. None of them interrupted her, in fact, they shouted greetings and cheered her on as she went.

Until Megan Thee Stallion’s Circles came on and then as if they’d practiced for that moment two of them - friends of hers - joined in to perform the dance they’d worked on the week the song had been dropped. It wasn’t something they taught or performed ever, just something that they did for fun.

YN was so into it and having so much fun that she didn’t notice more people enter the room, let alone who was amongst those people.

And she continued to not notice as the song ended because as each new one came on there was a different set of people joining her to dance along to them. Until Bruno Mar and Anderson .Paak’s Leave The Door Open came on and then they left her there. She hadn’t met with any of them to dance to it and though they seemed to move off to the side to do something they had they left her front and center.

The song had been her love for two weeks and though her first dance moves alongside it had been a slow dance with her boyfriend, they both came up with something for it together later so that’s what she went with but solo.

Sensual and smooth was what the song was, so she matched that and found an easy groove in it. She was so into it that she barely looked into the mirror and almost missed the approach of someone behind her. However, she saw a hat fly and her gaze met theirs in the mirror.

He saw her the moment she noticed him and smiled, something she returned despite her still dancing along. Not that he left her alone for long, just as the last line of the pre-chorus hit his arms were wrapped around her waist and he helped her spin to face him. 

Though YN felt a flutter in her stomach as she looked up at him and wanted to stay there for a while longer she didn’t. They moved into the next moves with ease and danced what they’d come up with in perfect harmony. Albeit while probably being a little too intimate with the moves.

Not that anyone complained.

“Get it Yugyeom!”

“Yes, YN! Yes.”

And other encouragements were yelled out as they danced and even after they finished. 

YN was used to them being like that when she did anything remotely sexy, especially when Monster Woo was in the area. The man enjoyed trying to make her blush and had succeeded a few times, though only usually when Yugyeom was present and dancing with her.

And that time was no different. The final position was similar to the move that Yugyeom had joined her with, but their faces were much closer. And since she could feel his breath on her face and could see the way he smiled at her she couldn’t help the way her cheeks burned. Though that kind of went out of the window once Yugyeom leaned down and kissed her lips. YN returned it with enthusiasm and only pulled away when she grew tired of the gagging noises.

After they were apart they moved to the side to let the others continue dancing to whatever played. Yugyeom laced their fingers together and didn’t let go even when they’d found a place to stand.

“I thought you would have been gone before we got here,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. Something got moved and so I don’t have anything until later and it’s just me recording the moves for another group plus a few errands.”

For a moment Yugyeom pouted, which was beyond cute, but it confused YN.

“What’s wrong?” 

“You left me alone in bed this morning. Didn’t even give me a kiss goodbye.”

The pouting intensified after that and YN laughed, throwing her head back a little. She’d been in a rush to get to work and he’d gotten to bed late so she’d let him sleep in. But she was being wrongly accused.

“Just because you weren’t awake for the kiss, does not mean the kiss didn’t happen. I gave your cute little lips multiple kisses before I left. You just didn’t wake up for any of them.”

That made him flustered, the pout vanishing as he fought down a smile and looked anywhere but at her. YN loved doing that to him, though she knew he would get his revenge on her later.

“That -” Yugyeom started only to be interrupted.

“So, you do have a thing for older women,” Jay Park said.

Just from hearing his voice, YN rolled her eyes, but then when she turned to face the little intruder she couldn’t help but do it again.

“It’s literally a two-year difference,” YN said.

Jay waved her off and focused on Yugyeom who’d gotten a little shyer about things when he was being confronted head on. It didn’t help that it was Jay and Loco who were staring him down.

“You could have just told us it was little YN, man. We know her. She’s cool people,” Loco said as he reached out to lightly poke YN’s cheek right where her dimple rested. A habit he’d gotten after he stopped gushing about how deep it was.

“I told you I was going to tell you at the end of the week. It’s not like I was keeping it a secret. We were just going to tell people outside of those who know at our own pace.”

“GOT7 knows? JYPE staff?” Jay asked.

Yugyeom nodded and that made Jay frown, but he didn’t say anything and before anyone could break the weird silence Blackpink’s Pretty Savage came on, and just like that YN was gone to dance again.

That left Yugyeom watching on again and YN threw him a wink every so often since they’d changed the choreography up quite a bit and that left for more sensual moves. 

[staywritten]

In The Moment│Bang Chan

In The Moment│Bang Chan

Synopsis: Chan can’t always be with you because of work, but he does get to live those little intimate moments with photos 

Genre: Smut, fluff, one shot

Word Count: 2037

Inspired by: https://prettylixie.tumblr.com/post/624671319185866752/i-feel-like-aussie-line-likes-to-take-post-sex

To call this a rut or a rough patch was being generous. Chan felt like he was in an artistic hole. He’d been at it for the entire weekend, only leaving the studio to work out and try to maintain some form of normalcy. He hadn’t seen you or his members for a few days, save the times Felix and and Changbin stopped by to bring him food.

This particular night was the hardest on him. 

He’d done everything he could to power through finishing the track, but it just wasn’t right. It wasn’t that it was missing something. It was missing everything. 

He distracted himself for about an hour and a half by hopping on live with Baby Stays but now that it’s ended it was right back to reality. Sitting in the studio alone and listening to his own thoughts. The same 30 sec sample playing over and over. 

He pinched his nose bridge and let out an exasperated sigh. He told himself he wasn’t going anywhere until the beat was done, that way he can reward himself with sleep and make the guide the day after. 

He grabbed his phone for the first time all night. He had a tendency of putting his phone on airplane mode to limit his distractions and the influx of texts from his members, manager and you telling him to go home. He knew he needed to sleep but he also had work to do and there were too many people counting on him for him to sleep.

Unlocking his phone his eyes softened at his home screen. It’d been so long since he looked at it he almost forgot you were his background. A smile graced his features as he stared at the intimate photo. You completely blissed out after he spent all night making love to you. You cuddled against his bare chest, pressing a kiss to his jaw. He traced your features by memory, the softness of your skin he longed for, how’d you warm under his touch. Your moans and sweet nothings that reminded him he was worth loving. 

He wanted to go home to you. To bundle you in his arms and make love to you until you couldn’t walk. But right not that was a distraction he couldn’t afford. 

Photos would have to do for now. 

Buried in his camera roll he looked at an album he dedicated to you. Each photo capturing a moment he wished he could relive. You on all fours for him, you under him, you desperately grabbing at the wall to hold balance. You looked so beautiful, your neck covered in love bites and bruises, face flushed, mouth open moaning in lust. “My beautiful Babygirl…”

A particular favorite of his was one with you under him, clenching the sheets as he pounded into you. Your face contorting from pleasure. He smirked looking at the photo, his hand spanning over your neck as he took you. Anytime he looked at these photos he remembered it like it was yesterday. He’d just gotten back from a two month world tour and you were his first stop. He just couldn’t stop kissing you that night. Anywhere and everywhere. You had to wear a turtleneck for a solid week to hide his love bites. The photos that followed that particular night were his favorite. 

He managed to capture your face right as you came with him. He loved that look on you. So vulnerable and soft and needy for him. He could still hear your voice, your desperate pleads and little I love yous. How his name had never sounded as sweet unless he heard it coming from your lips. 

He swiped the photo and the brightest smile grazed his features. His cheek dimpled seeing you. You were fucked out and beautiful from the afterglow. The most adorable little pout on your lips as you held the blanket to your chest. You couldn’t walk because of how sore he made you and there was nothing more satisfying than knowing he fucked you that hard. He groaned, rubbing his temples realizing just how much he missed you. 

There were countless photos and videos, each one bringing a smile to his face. He wasn’t sure if he’d call it a kink perse’ but he sure did love taking photos of you post sex. There was just this level of intimacy he could manage to freeze in time and he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t always be with you since his job was so demanding but this way he could play pretend. 

He was shaken from his thoughts the moment he saw your name pop on his phone. “Hi Baby” he smiled softly “I was just thinking about you”

You yawned “Stop thinking about me, and come be with me Chris” your voice, laced in sleep. 

He chuckled. “You know I would if I could”

“Then do it” you pouted, rubbing your eyes awake. “You wanna explain to me why you went on Vlive at 3am? Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’m working on something, I’ll go to bed as soon as I finish”

“I know you Christopher Bang. You’re not going to sleep. You’re gonna overwork yourself and make yourself sick”

“Baby please… I don’t wanna fight… I just wanna hear your voice”

“I don’t wanna fight either” you pouted, sitting up in your bed, pressing your back against your headboard. “I wanna make love to my boyfriend so hard he has no choice but to sleep... I wanna cover him in kisses and cuddles... I just want you home”

He smiled to himself “I want that...”

“Then come home…” you whispered quietly, part of you wishing he didn’t hear you just to avoid another argument. He released a heavy sigh, raking his hand through his hair. His frustration was so obvious, and his nurturing self sacrificial personality was getting the best of him. “Chris..?”

“Hm?” he answered absently. 

“I’m going on a strike.” your tone light to try and distract him from his souring mood, he could practically hear you pout.

He chuckled bemused by your antics. “Oh? And what are your demands?”

“I demand you have a full nights of sleep, a mental health day, and a night of cuddles, and until you comply with my demands I’m going on a sleep strike”

“Baby.” his voice stern. “Go to bed.”

You smirked, making yourself comfortable “No.” 

“Don’t make me-”

“What? Come home and force me to go to bed? That would mean you’d have to acknowledge that sleep is important and for you to get out of the studio”

“I’m not having this conversation again. I have to get back to work, Good night Baby-”

“Chris… don’t just go…”

“Go to bed. I love you” he hung up the phone before rubbing his temples, his shoulders slumping.

In protest against your boyfriend you stayed up a little longer busying yourself with scrolling through your social media. You were probably at it for about an hour before the sound of your front door opening scared you out of your daze.

You hopped out of bed and grabbed your bat behind your door. Slowly opening the door you prepared to swing your bat at the figure. “Ahhh! What are you doing?!” Chris yelled, catching a glimpse of you winding up your swing. Hearing a familiar yell you released a heavy sigh, and lowered your bat. 

“Chris!? What are you doing here?!” you flipped on a light switch and slumped from the adrenaline. 

“Why do you have a bat? You don’t play baseball?” he placed his hand over his racing heart. 

And then it dawned on your that after weeks of working your boyfriend was finally in front of you in the flesh. Dropping the bat you ran into his arms. Luckily his reflexes were still as sharp as ever as he caught you. “You’re home!” you beamed. 

“I’m home” he chuckled, holding you up in his arms and carrying you into the bedroom. He took a seat at the foot of your bed, holding you on his lap. Cupping your face he pulled you into a sweet kiss. You could taste the familiar watermelon juice on his lips as he deepened it. His hand tangling itself in your hair as he kissed you. You gasped into it, playfully biting his bottom lip while eyeing him. “Mmm… I missed this” he whispered huskily against your skin. His dark brown eyes taking in all of you. “You still haven’t explained to me why you have a bat” he chuckled. 

“Oh it was a gift from Seungmin and Minho since they worried about me living alone” 

His eyes softened as he looked at you. Part of that broke his heart. He loved that his members took care of you, like you were their own sister. Felix often told him how he’d help you run errands to the grocery store, or Changbin would walk you home from work late at night when he couldn't leave the studio. But this cut a little deeper. You didn’t live alone. You lived with him. The two of you got this apartment together. And yet his presence there was fleeting. 

“Chris?” you frowned, smoothing out the furrow in his brow, evidence of his overthinking. 

“You know I love you right?”

“Of course I do” you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“I just think I've been doing a shit job at showing it...But I do love you… You’re my lifeline”

“I know Chris… It’s work I understand… You have priorities”

“You are always my priority” his thumb gently caressed your cheek as he laid back into bed, pulling you into bed with him. “I love you” he whispered against your skin, peppering you with kisses, his sweet I love you's following each one. 

He tugged off your large nightshirt while continuing to worship your body with kisses. His finger tips tracing down your body, making you shiver. He cupped and massage your breast before following through with taking the hardened bud between those full beautiful lips you loved. Your head fell back into the pillows as he playfully teased you.

Removing his own shirt he tossed it haphazardly to the ground. “I love you…” he trailed his kisses lower, down your stomach, past your panties. His long, dexterous fingers disappearing inside the cotton. “You’re already so wet for me…”

“Chris it’s been so long since I could have you…” you whined. He looked up at you , a grin on his mouth as he tugged your panties off and buried his face deep inside you. His tongue delving deeper as his free hand worked your breast. He’d occasionally catch a glimpse of you. Your eyes shut in pleasure as you bit your hand to hold your moans back.

“Let me hear you… I love your voice Baby...Please?” he worked your clit over miraculously, making you so sensitive to his touch. He took out his phone seeing a familiar look on your face. You were so close. He knew that look well. “May I Babygirl?” he asked before hitting record. Whining you nodded, begging for him to continue. “Hm? What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that?” he gave you a cheeky look. 

“Chris yes, just please” your back arched against the mattress desperate to reach your orgasm, as you moved your hips to cause friction on your own.

“I got you Baby” he smiled moving his thumb against your clit a bit hard. This time he was able to record the exact moment you came. Your labored breaths getting more shallow and desperate as you inch closer, begging for him with every fiber of your being. 

He knew that this moment would be one that he’d cherished and he was glad he was able to capture your voice and watched as you came from his fingers. 

And as much as he adored these videos and photos of you there was nothing quite like the moment in real life. 

End

Just a little scene because I was so inspired by that ask I saw on @prettylixie’s page. All credit to them and that anon that planted that idea in my head and I couldn’t sleep until I wrote it.

∘Tags List:

@skzsprinkles @tophuphu @hugs4chan @channieboyo @tonfilm @soobinssmile

[marvelouswritee]

Quarantine Shenanigans with JJ Maybank

{gif originally posted by @heapass​}

words: 1.2k

summary: teenagers quarantined together with their horniness.

au: soooo i have been reading fanfictions since i was like eight or nine yet, somehow, i don’t the difference between one-shots, blurbs, imagines, canons, and drables? like they all just seem the same??? I- please help a grandma out lol 

enjoy my fucking filthy smut 

You teasingly begin to lick the tip of JJ’s member. It was a good way to wake him up since he’s been refusing to attend his Zoom classes. You know what’s best for him, but he’s just stubborn to listen to anyone. However, the thick-headed boy has been sexually frustrated ever since the beginning of quarantine. So, what better way to wake up a boy with throbbing erections in his sleep? 

A morning blowjob.

He releases a gentle moan, your hands stroking his hardening cock. JJ lifts the blue blanket, revealing his erection warm in your mouth. You send him a mischievous smirk before shoving his shaft deep in your throat. His moans become louder as you slurp up-and-down of his cock. 

“Fuck, yeah, go faster,” JJ begs. His hips thrusting to the back of your throat to make you gag. JJ was reaching his climax when your velvet tongue licked his pre-cum then continued your phenomenal deep-throating. The tip is his most sensitive spot. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he announces within the second his salty goop thaws above your tongue. His eyes are sealed due to the pleasurable release while his hands are gripped to your head, pushing you down to collect his semen. After the tasty hard gulp, you ascend above JJ to see his flustered cheeks. 

“Good morning,” you greet with an innocent smile. 

“Hell yeah, that was a good morning to wake up to,” JJ rejoiced, making you giggle. He clasp your lips together, eager to make love to you. His hands are on your waist, caressing your curves. 

“Mm, you gotta get to class,” you remind him. He groans in between your soft kisses. 

“Class can wait, (Y/N). But me? I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers to your ear, escalating to your neck. Your cheeks blush bright red. “Come on, you know you want to.” 

“I’ll make a deal with you, JJ. If you get your ass to class, I’ll give you a reward.” His eyebrow raise curiously. 

“Can I decide what reward am I going to get?” He rests his hands on your waist, ogling your basically naked body. 

“Yes, JJ,” you lean onto his neck with puckered swollen lips, giving him soft kisses on his collarbone. Trailing your kisses to his lips, you softly bite his earlobe before whispering to his ears seductively. “Anything you want.” 

***

It’s now three in the afternoon and JJ has finished most of his assignments. You, on the other hand, is only finishing your last worksheet for the day. JJ exits out the bedroom the two of you share with his usual gray tank top and shorts. “What are you working on, babe?” 

“Just some chemistry homework I have to turn in by eight tonight.” He notices your furrowed eyebrows in distress. 

“Do you need any help? You look like you’re having a hard time there.” 

You look up from the screen, catching his gaze. “No offense, JJ, but chemistry is not your best subject.” And, it was true. The rebellious boy would rather be caught dead than pay attention to class. However, he had the urge to help. 

“Hey, let me see. I can help, I just finished my chemistry homework.” JJ leans on the kitchen table, skimming the worksheet. His adorable dimples make an appearance when a grin beams on his face. “I just did this! Hold on, let me share you my worksheet.” 

“Wait, shit, really? You did it by yourself?”

“No, Pope texted me the answers.” JJ opens his computer in the bedroom, clicking the bottom to share his virtual worksheet with you. You clicked on the new notification from your inbox, prepared to copy down the answers. Surely, these are the correct answers considering Pope was the one who sent them to JJ. 

After five minutes of copying the answers from JJ’s worksheet to yours, the sigh of relief you felt when you finally submitted the worksheet. It was refreshing, almost freeing that you may or may not have cheated off somebody’s worksheet yet you still finished the homework. 

It’s the thought that counts.

You shut off your computer then shoved it back to your computer. “Thank you,” you affectionately hug JJ from the back in the kitchen. JJ turns around with a smile on his face, his dimples visible on his cheek. 

“Hey, no problem. Anything for you.” You give him a quick peck before leaving. However, JJ pulls you back to his body. “Remember our deal?” 

“What deal?” you pretended to forget. 

“The deal that you said. When I do my schoolwork, you’ll reward me with whatever I want.” His hands eagerly squeeze your ass. 

“Hm, you must be dreaming, JJ. I don’t recall saying any of those words.” He picks your body and then places you on the counter. He hungrily presses his lips against yours. Your rests your hands on his cheeks, also playing with his scattered blond hair. 

Sparing the foreplay, JJ is ravenous for your taste. He kneels, swiftly taking off your underwear- throwing it to the floor. Immediately, he stretches your pussy lips to propel his tongue inside your vagina. Your fingers are tugging on his hair as he twists his tongue inside you. His thumb begins to make circular motions on your sensitive spot- your clitoris. JJ eating you out while simultaneously moving your clit results in loosening pornographic moans and intense language. 

“Fuck, JJ, please let me cum,” you plead with a moan. He licks your clit then back inside you. “Please.” 

“That’s not my name,” he looks up with darkness and mischievous in his eyes. 

“What?” you come back to reality.

“What’s my name?” 

He inserts two fingers inside your dripping cunt, ready to explode. His fingers start to penetrate your sloppy insides. You moan uncontrollably, biting on  your fingers to silence yourself. The reality is becoming blurry, turning into one of your exotic fantasies. 

“Fuck, Daddy! Please let me cum. Shit!” You feel JJ smirk against your pussy. 

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby,” he says, triggering your explosion of cum. Your back arches as your head tilts back with your eyes sealed shut. JJ watches your climax as he licks your vagina filled with cum. He hums, his tongue still attached to your delicate opening. You look down after regaining reality, JJ with a mischievous smirk. He makes a trail of kisses on your inner thighs before standing back up. 

“Holy fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you caught his eyes. He uses his hand to wipe the remaining liquid on his face. 

“That was one of the best rewards I’ve ever gotten,” JJ declares, biting his lip. 

“Glad you like it.” 

“That was just the first part, though.” 

“What?” you curiously ask. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, that wasn’t all the reward I wanted. I spent like eight hours behind a computer screen doing homework, which sucked. In return, I want to waste another eight hours-” he leans to your ear- “inside you.” 

You raise your eyebrows teasingly. “Can you even last eight hours?” 

“Why? Are you tired?” 

“No, I’m just asking. I don’t think you can last that long, JJ.” You cross your arms with confidence.

“You don’t think I can last that long?” JJ scoffs. 

“Yeah. You’re going to have to prove it,” you smirk. 

“For the eight hours I’m going to prove to you, you’re gonna be screaming until you only know my name.”

[sweetwritertanya]

Dressed Up For Halloween (Namjoon)

Summary: Your employer, Big Hit, is hosting a special Halloween party this year. Even though no one knows you are dating, you go and show your boyfriend Namjoon your outfit before the party starts when he is still working at the studio.

Warnings: SMUT! This fic will include: swearing, erotic body touching, blow job, unprotected sex (be smarter IRL people!), missionary position, sex as in a quickie, female masturbation during sex (is this the best way to describe it?), aftercare.

Word Count: 2640

Your excitement could barely be contained as you practically skipped down the street and entered the Big Hit’s building. Your long warm coat kept your selected costume for the party tonight hidden and you had been dying to show it to your boyfriend. Keeping it a secret was almost unbearable, since you two always shared everything with one another.

For the first time ever, the company had decided to host a Halloween themed party for their employees and idols. Everyone was invited and required to come in costume, dinner and drinks on the house. Even a simple dispensable worker as yourself was invited which worked out, since the only person you were interested in spending the day with would also be there.

Namjoon and the rest of the boys would, obviously, be main guests. And even if nobody besides them knew about you and him being together, it presented the perfect cover for you two to attend the same party without having to hide his identity. You would just have to be careful not to get too lovey-dovey in public. Which was a bit hard, since you adored to hold his hand or lean your head on his shoulder whenever you stood beside him. You just had to control yourself tonight.

You knock on the door and his voice tells you to come in. Namjoon had told you he would be working on the studio for as long as he could, inspiration for some lyrics hitting him strongly today of all days. But he still promised to come to the party, so you were here to pick him up and make sure he lived to that promise.

He was sitting on his chair with his back to you as you walk in, closing the door behind you. He seemed busy writing something in his little notebook as well as having some kind of melody going on the computer. As you expected, he wasn’t even dressed yet, in fact wearing a white Fila hoodie and some light-wash denim jeans.

“Baby, you told me you would be dressed up for Halloween” you complaint as you approach him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

“Hum? Oh, yeah, sorry babydoll, I was about to go and change.” Namjoon swirls in his chair as his strong arms come around your wide hips, brushing the skin there with soothing hands. He smiles sheepishly with lips pressed together and dimples showing. “Got distracted. Wait, is that a wig?”

You smile back, because who wouldn’t when he produced that beautiful dimple smile, and lean down to steal an affectionate peck from his lips.

“Yes, it is. Part of my costume. Now, we don’t have much time, so hurry up and save everything you got going on so you can go and change already” you order playfully, stepping away to leave him to his computer. “Oh, and I want you to see my full costume before we go! Any speculations from the long black-haired wig?” You question as you undo your coat and let it slide down your arms to the sofa behind you.

“You know I’m not great guessing things. It’s best of you just tel-”

As Namjoon finishes saving everything up and swirls around in his chair to look at you, his words get stuck in his throat as he loses the ability to breathe for a few long minutes.

Even a skilled song writer like him could not come up with an accurate way to describe how absolutely enthralling you looked. It made his heart jump to his throat and his mouth to go dry as he took it all in, the black tight fabric hugging all of your splendid corves so seductively, the deep v-neckline showing just enough cleavage before the crisscross strings, the slit up to the middle of your succulent upper thigh revealing the shape of your leg, accentuated by the black high-heel shoe. In an outfit made entirely of black, your red lip stood out so captivatingly, and he could only really think of how much he wanted to steal the bright colour with his own mouth, kiss it until it was smudged away.

“What do you think?” you excitedly ask, even giving him a twirl.

Namjoon swallows dry and crosses his legs as he hides half of his face with his large hand, coughing to clear his voice.

“It’s hum… hum, it’s…” he truly couldn’t find the right words, which you mistake with dislike.

“You don’t like it” you sigh with disappointment and confusion. You really thought he would like it, you looked so good in it. He always tried to persuade you to use more tight-fitting clothes since he loves your silhouette so much.

“No! No, it’s not that at all!” he immediately assures, maybe a bit louder than he hoped. “I actually know this one. You’re… You’re Morticia from the Addam’s Family, right?”

“Yeah… So, why the underwhelming reaction? I thought you would love it” you confess, crossing your arms.

“And I unquestionably do. You look so fucking sexy right now. And I can assure you, there is nothing underwhelming about this. If anything, I may be a little too overwhelmed right now.” He coughs again and looks away almost like he was embarrassed, a bit of color rising to his cheeks.

“Sure doesn’t look like it” you pout, unconvinced.

He sighs and keeps his eyes away from you before looking at the ground, seemingly debating with himself for a moment.

“Did… Did you know?” he suddenly asks, only glancing at you for mere seconds before looking back to the floor.

“Know what?”

“That I had a… a thing, let’s call it… for this character when I first saw the movie as a child?”

“You had a ‘thing’ for Morticia when you were a kid? How so?” Intrigued and tickled by such a notion, you actually walk forward and move as if to sit sideways on Namjoon’s lap.

“Wait, babe-!”

Namjoon strangely raises his hands up and tries to stop you, something he had never done before when you sat on his lap, but the memento was already set. You sat your juicy rump on his thighs and that’s when you feel it, poking at the doughy flesh of your left ass cheek.

“Oh my God!” you giggle and bring your hands to cover your smiling lips as your eyes open wide in realization. As for Namjoon, his cheeks are now burning red and he tries to look as further away to the right as he can, hands restless as he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“She always talked all seductively and all that, okay? And that film is full of sexual tension between her and that husband of yours, so it was not my fault” he murmurs in his defense. “Seeing you like this kind of… brought back old feelings, okay?”

Both amused and sympathetic at his situation, you remain sited on his lap as you take his warm face into your hands and force him to look at you.

“Well… How about I help you with this before we leave for the party, baby?” you suggest with a immodest smirk.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows and widens his small eyes until they became rounded, unsure if he was understanding what you were hinting at. You brush your thumb on top of his wide lips and then capture them for a doubt ending kiss, filled with passion and need. Your mouths melded together as your body melted into his, strong arms coming around your middle and pulling you close by your back.

It doesn’t take long for tongues to tease and play with each other, the smallest of encounters sending sparks down your back that landed in a molten pit of want at the depth of your belly. With each longing movement of your soft lips on top of his, you could feel his problem growing beneath your ass, reminding you of what you had decided to do.

Slowly, almost seamlessly, you move your lips to his chin, then his strong jaw, then down his long delectable neck, stopping just a moment longer by that spot next to his pulse point that you knew drove him crazy. The way he groans almost in a whimper rewards you for taking the time to do so. And then you move away from his lap to instead fall on your knees between his legs, hands set at his muscular thighs and looking up at him with suggestive eyes.

His lips, red from all the kisses and the blood rushing to his cheeks, fall into the cutest ‘o’ shape and he gulps dryly before talking.

“Babydoll, you don’t have to-”

“I know, Jonnie. I want to” you clarify, hands already sneaking their way to his belt.

His head falls back on his chair once your little fingers brush the bulge that had formed in his pants and he knows he couldn’t really do anything, he was at your mercy.

“Now, we don’t have much time before the party starts so, we have to be quick, okay?” you remind him as you pull his pants down. All you get his a struggled grunt and his hands closing into fists. “And don’t pull my hair, remember I’m wearing a wig.”

The erection finally springs free as you lower his boxers and a jolt of lust runs through you at the pretty vision. Standing tall in all its dark pink glory, with a red mushroom head glistening and a particular protruding pulsating vein, his cock always looked so perfect to you. And as much as you wanted to shower him with the attention he deserved, you were on a time crunch.

Therefore, you take one hand to his base and pump the hardening member to complete stiffness, absent-minded gibberish falling from Namjoon’s lips as you do so. Then, taking a deep breath, you let your tongue lick the underside from the bottom to the top before engulfing him into your mouth the furthest you could go.

Namjoon’s body trembles and he gasps when you suddenly take him fully into your mouth, your cheeks hallow and bobbing your head at a nice pace with eyes closed as you concentrated. Your tongue swirls around his thickness and slides from side to side at the skin just bellow his tip, making you feel his cock throbbing against it. Remembering to breathe, you try and add a bit of suctioning to the blow-job, the salty cream flavor you recognized starting to gush from his head.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, baby, stop! Come here.”

To your confusion, Namjoon grabs you by the underside of your arms and pulls you with him to your feet, breathing hard and flustered, eyes completely darkened with lust. You knew he was about to cum, you couldn’t understand why he stopped you. Until he kisses you hungrily and places you with your back to the cushioned sofa behind you, bringing your legs to hook on either side of his lean hips.

“Namjoon, we can’t, we don’t have time for this” you start to say when his lips instead suck at your neck.

“Like you said, we’ll make it quick. Please, Y/N, babydoll, I need you” he pleads with you, leaning his head back to look at you with desperation. And, fuck, it was hot to be needed like this.

“Fine, hurry up” you concede, biting your bottom lips and throwing your arms around his shoulders, gathering the short hairs at the nape of his neck in your clasp.

Much to his satisfaction, you weren’t wearing any pantyhose, meaning your legs were bare as his fingers traced the skin up under the dress and the only barrier, he had to worry about were your panties. Finding the silky fabric and pulling the center of it aside, Namjoon dips his fingers in between the puffy lips and finds you warm and wet for him. He grunts.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby” he whispers into your ear.

As if to make sure, he slips his fingers into your puckered hole without warning, making you gasp and claw your hands on his shoulder and neck. Both of the fingers he used move with slick perfection only for a few seconds before he extracts them.

The feeling of emptiness left behind only lasts a moment, for soon Namjoon takes himself in hand and plunges back in, that magnificent shaft of his filling you up to the curve of your cervix and stretching your walls heavenly. Heat is rising off of him and he takes little time to start moving, yanking his hips at a fast speed as he chases his release.

His large hands hold you by your waist as he drills himself into your womb, the slapping sound of skin and squelching of your body’s fluids as he pumps in and out joining the sounds of both your and his heaving breathing and erotic moans, pitched with wanton and lust. His cock drags wonderfully against your inner walls and his pelvis smacks repeatedly against yours, so quick and deep that sends ripples across your malleable flesh. The molten pit deep inside your core starts to boil up, this uncontrollable wave of aching relief about to break through the dam.

The slickness of your pussy increases and Namjoon finds himself thrusting faster and faster, slamming his hips into yours at an abnormal increasing speed, hands anchoring himself on your waist so strongly it would leave marks. His whole body screamed tension and his throbbing cock burned inside, so you knew he was close. Even with a veiled brain power, you manage to recognize he was about to cum and you wanted nothing more than to do so with him. So, you bring one hand down your body and wail with a broken voice as you violently rubbed your clit at the same speed he was thrusting.

It happened at the same time, your pussy fluttering and collapsing around his cock as the most sudden wave of unmitigated pleasure crashed through your veins, and his frenzied moves coming to a halt as his cock twitched as released flowed through him like water. Your muscles trembled in relief, back arched away from the sofa’s cushions, before falling to the most relaxed state, while he spilled himself in you with a shuddering body before stilling and catching his breath again.

You both stay like this for a moment, Namjoon leaning down to kiss your smudged red lips amorously. He then spills out, hurrying to get on his feet and entering the adjacent small bathroom he had on the studio, coming back with a towel that he uses to clean up the mess he made.

You watch as he gently cleans your lower lips, tapping the soft towel until it’s all nice and mostly dry, and then rearranging the twisted panties until they sit comfortably on you. You sit back up on the couch when he is done and kiss his cheek, searching in your purse for your lipstick so you can reapply it properly.

“Go ahead and change, Jonnie. I should be going ahead anyway, the party is about to start” you say as you use the mirror in the bathroom.

“If you told me you would be Morticia, I could have dressed up as Gomez today” he tells you, with a voice still a bit rough from sex, which you loved.

“We can’t be in a couple’s costume, babe. No one knows we’re together, remember?” you swing your arms around his middle and look up at him with a resigning pout.

“Yet” he adds, quite firmly. “Maybe next year?”

You beam, pull him down for a peck and start to walk away towards the studio’s door, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

“Maybe next year” you agree before walking out.

[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter One

Summary:  Luna Lovegood finds herself caught up in a world of international espionage, on the hunt for the mysterious gang who have a strange obsession with Amazonian plant-life (a subject on which Luna happens to know quite a lot). And, of course, Ginny Weasley insists in coming along for the ride. You don't mess with Ginny's Lu and get away with it. But can Ginny protect Luna from the forces set against them?

~~~~~~~~~

Here it is, everyone; my first foray into the action-adventure genre of fanfic! Hope you like it! Thank you to @lytefoot and @cheeseanonioncrisps, without whom this fic would never have happened, and @rabisacos for their advice with some elements of the plot that will become apparent in later chapters. :)

TWs are in the tags. 

~~~~~~~~~

               Read on FFN.                                                 Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~

The shop bell tinkled.

Luna Lovegood looked up from the plant she was re-potting. It was close to mid-day. Normally, she would have kept the shop open for the afternoon, but she had other plans that afternoon.

The stranger who walked in was… well, very strange indeed. A large, heavy-set man, clad in dark clothes despite the warm weather, and with thick sunglasses that obscured most of his face. Luna was also aware that he was very tall and towered over her.

‘Hello,’ she said, a little confused as she climbed to her feet. ‘Can you help you with anything?’

The man reached into his pocket, and pulled out a piece of paper. He handed it to Luna.

‘Amazonian Octarine-Flame?’ Luna read aloud. ‘I’m afraid I don’t stock it; the plant is very rare, and isn’t kept domestically in the UK.’

The man stared at Luna for a moment, as if judging whether he believed her, before he nodded, took his piece of paper from Luna’s hands, and left without so much as a thank you. The door swung shut behind him.

Pondering the stranger’s behaviour, Luna finished her re-potting, and brought in the standing sign from outside. She was just locking the front door, when the sound of a motorbike made her turn.

‘Alright, Lu?’

Luna grinned, her cheeks blushing, as Ginny pulled off her helmet, her ginger hair sparkling in the sunshine.

‘Yes,’ she replied, pressing a quick kiss to Ginny’s cheek. ‘I’m all set to go. Are you feeling confident?’

‘For the match? With you watching me, I’m always confident.’

Luna smiled, as she strapped on the spare helmet Ginny had just handed her. She climbed onto the back of the bike, and wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. With a loud roar, the bike came to life, and the two women sped off through the streets.

Mercifully, the traffic wasn’t too bad that day, and they reached the basketball arena with a few minutes to spare.

They could hear the crowds beginning to arrive. Luna squeezed Ginny’s hand as they walked over to the players entrance.

‘You’ll be brilliant, Ginny,’ she said, pecking her on the lips.

‘Thanks,’ Ginny replied. ‘Can I hope to expect a bit more than a kiss as a reward afterwards?’

Luna giggled.

‘How about you win the game first, before you think about that?’

‘So… that’s not a “no”…’

Laughing, Luna kissed her again, and Ginny flashed her a smile, before entering the players entrance.

Luna walked through the main entrance, and made for the stands.

‘Luna!’

Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom were waving at her from a spot roughly in the centre of the stands. Luna waved back, and made for them. The crowd was full of people excitedly talking about the game about to start, and of the odds on different players scoring. Luna was happy to see that Ginny was a popular choice.

Luna reached Neville and Hannah. She hugged them both, and sat down.

‘You and Ginny got here on time, then?’

‘Yes,’ Luna replied. ‘The traffic was fine. How about you two?’

‘We were almost late,’ Hannah said, interlacing her fingers with Neville’s. ‘Neville’s been getting some weird emails from lots of friends from our old class.’

‘Very weird, actually,’ Neville said, his brow wrinkling. ‘Apparently, there’s been some break-ins in several botanical conservation sites, all of them having plants from the Amazon stolen. All within the same week.’

Luna was about to enquire further but, at that moment, the stands around them erupted in cheers as the two teams emerged onto the court.

Of course, Ginny’s team won the team, with Ginny herself scoring several points, including one scored with a spectacular leap upwards over two members of the opposing teams heads. Luna cheered and applauded as Ginny grinned up at the stands.

About ten minutes later, Ginny emerged from the changing rooms, and was met by a cacophony of reporters and fans. Finally, the crowd dispersed, and the redhead walked over to where her girlfriend was waiting.

Ginny, her face now wreathed in a wide smile, hugged Luna tightly as the blonde threw her arms around her.

‘I was a bit worried there for a bit,’ she said, modestly. ‘But it all worked out okay.’

‘You were brilliant!’ Luna exclaimed, quickly pressing a kiss to her lips. ‘I’m so proud of you!’

‘Oh, really?’ Ginny asked, a mischievous look entering her eye. ‘Care to demonstrate after we get back to yours?’

Luna blushed, smiling.

 *

 Luna sat up in bed, and stretched.

Ginny was snoring softly on the mattress next to her, her red hair illuminated slightly in the moonlight.

Luna smiled at her girlfriend.

Her life had been so… dull before Ginny entered it. Sure, she loved her shop and working with plants all day, but there was a routine to it that had become tedious over the years. So much that it almost became background noise. And it wasn’t as if Luna met a lot of people; she wasn’t the most ongoing person and, while she occasionally met up with people she had known at university, her life progressed in much the same way every passing week and month.

Then Ginny had arrived. A whirlwind of red hair and sports jerseys. Fun, exciting and utterly lovely. The most exciting, mist exhilarating person Luna had ever met. The last few months had been… well, wonderful in every sense of the word.

Feeling thirsty, Luna pulled her nightie over her head, and wrapped a dressing gown around herself, before descending the stairs to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of milk, and leaned against the counter, watching the moonlight dance across the kitchen.

She was just about to go back upstairs again, when she became aware of a curious sensation. Almost as if she was being watched?

Luna set her glass down on the kitchen counter, and walked across to the entrance through to the shop. She could see the usual shapes of the plants climbing up, and the vines stretching up across the ceiling.

Was… was there someone there? She had a burglar alarm installed, but the siren had not gone off. Everything seemed to be as it should.

Luna paused in the entrance way, her neck prickling. What was…

There was a creak on the stairs behind her.

‘Luuuunnnaaa….’ Ginny purred, slipping her arms around Luna’s shoulders. Luna felt goosebumps erupt along her neck as the redhead spoke softly into her ear. ‘Come back to bed…’

Casting one last look over the shop, Luna allowed her girlfriend to lead her back upstairs. But, out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn that something moved in the shop.

Probably just a fly, she thought.

 *

 The kitchen was bathed in sunlight as Ginny and Luna ate their breakfast. Ginny was wearing a pair of Luna’s old dungarees paired with a white t-shirt, and Luna was finding it difficult not to blush; the redhead looked so lovely wearing them.

‘So… no practices for a few weeks,’ Ginny said, her mouth half-full with toast. ‘It’ll be nice to have some time to relax.’

‘That would explain the lack of a bra today, I take it?’

‘Oh, definitely,’ Ginny said, flashing a wink. ‘And, well, what say you and me have the day to ourselves?’

‘Oh, that sounds…’ Luna began, before her face fell.

‘What? Something wrong?’

‘No, I’d love to just spend the day here with you, but… well, I’ve been invited to a Botany and Horticultural conference at my old University today.’

‘Oh, no worries,’ Ginny said. ‘I’ll join you.’

‘What? No, I can just tell them I couldn’t make it-’

‘Don’t be silly. You love this stuff, Lu,’ Ginny said, stroking Luna’s hand softly. ‘I want to learn more about what you enjoy.’

‘You don’t mind? I know Horticulture isn’t really your thing.’

‘And basketball isn’t really your thing, but you still come to my games,’ Ginny replied. ‘Let me be the sweetie-pie for once, ‘kay?’

Luna smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

‘I’m not that sweet.’

‘I beg to differ. After all, I am now rather accustomated to-’

‘Ginny!’

The redhead laughed, and threw an arm around Luna’s shoulders.

‘Okay, when does this conference start?’

‘Midday, but-’

‘Great, then we’ve got a few hours to kill. How about you and I take it easy for an hour or so, and then I’ll pick up my suit from my place?’

Luna found herself blushing.

‘S-suit?’

‘Three-piece, Lu,’ Ginny said, winking. ‘Why? Too much?’

Luna smiled, and shook her head. Her girlfriend was something else, indeed.

 *

 The two of them arrived at Luna’s old university with some time to spare. They had taken the underground at Luna’s insistence; she had said that it was due to the lack of parking at the university but, judging from Luna’s blushing whenever she looked at Ginny, the redhead could guess it was because she didn’t want Ginny to mess up her suit.

They bumped into Professor Sprout, one of Luna and Neville’s old professors who Ginny had met previously. The professor smiled as she saw Luna’s fingers intertwined with Ginny’s. Both the young women blushed.

Soon enough, the conference was due to staff. Luna and Ginny sat down in the auditorium, and the noise of everyone around them gradually dissipated.

An elderly man, presumably one of the university’s professors, walked across the stage. He had a long beard and wore half-spoon spectacles.

‘I’ll be brief,’ said the elderly professor. ‘Throughout the last few days, we have heard numerous reports of the thefts of Amazonian plants across London. Our sister universities in Europe have been dealing with similar reports.’

‘And from other parts of South America,’ said another professor. ‘Paraguay and Chile have also had various thefts.’

‘We’re dealing with an international level of theft. The various authorities have been informed, of course, but I must ask that we all be very careful when it comes to security for the time being.’

Ginny turned to look at Luna, and was startled to see her girlfriend looking suddenly very worried.

Instinctively, Ginny reached out and took her hand, giving it a delicate squeeze. Luna smiled softly, clearly glad of the support.

It worried Ginny to see Luna looking so serious; she was usually so calm and cheerful about everything. Things were clearly bad if even Luna Lovegood couldn’t put a brave face on. Even though the rest of the conference was of a more cheerful nature, Luna’s mood did not improve much.

Luna and Ginny rode back across London on the underground. Ginny didn’t let go of Luna’s hand the entire time, and Luna leaned into her girlfriend’s shoulder, her face troubled. It broke Ginny’s heart to see her like this. She wrapped an arm around Luna’s shoulder, and pressed a quick kiss to the blonde woman’s forehead.

Luna seemed to be feeling marginally better as they emerged from the underground. As it happened, they passed the restaurant they had gone to for one of their first dates, and Ginny pointed it out. The memory brought a smile to Luna’s face, and she squeezed Ginny’s hand.

However, as soon as they turned the corner round to Luna’s shop, this happy moment popped like a bubble.

‘M-my shop!’

Ginny stared on in horror. The shop windows had been smashed in, and there was several police cars parked nearby. Pieces of glass were scattered across the pavement, and the owners of the shops nearby were stood around, looking concerned.

Her eyes widening, Luna stumbled forward.

‘What’s… what’s happened?’ she gasped, as her fellow shopkeepers turned to look at her. ‘I… I was only gone for a couple of hours.’

‘We heard the windows smash and the alarms go off barely forty-five minutes ago,’ said Madam Puddifoot, the owner of the café next door. ‘Thank goodness you weren’t hurt, Luna.’

‘Who the bloody hell would do this?’ Ginny exclaimed, as she looked at the smashed glass, aghast. ‘God, Luna… you could have been here,’-she grabbed Luna’s hand-‘forget what I said earlier, spending the day at home would have been terrible.’

Luna chuckled miserably.

‘Was… was anything taken?’

‘That’s the weird thing,’ Madam Puddifoot said, looking a little baffled. ‘Your till doesn’t seem to have been touched at all. No money gone, nothing. It looked like whoever did this didn’t even try to break it open.’

Well, Ginny thought, that’s one positive-

‘But we noticed some of your books have been taken.’

‘What?’ Luna said. ‘My books? On botany?’

‘Yes, the ones on Amazonian plants, by the looks of it.’

Luna’s face, if it was possible, fell even further.

Ginny wrapped her arm around Luna’s midriff, holding her close. The blonde turned and leaned into her chest, her arms reaching around Ginny, clinging to her for support.

‘I’m here, Lu,’ Ginny whispered, ‘It’s gonna be okay.’

Luna nodded, mutely.

‘Ms Lovegood?’

A tall, black man had emerged from inside the shop. He was wearing a dark blue suit that had a sort of neat elegance that Ginny had never managed to achieve. Some people had a distinct aura that went with their job, and Ginny knew he wasn’t just a standard policeman. He was a detective, or something similar.

‘Y-yes,’ Luna said, pulling away from Ginny and turning to face the man.

‘I am Kingsley Shacklebolt,’ he said. ‘I’m in charge of the investigation surrounding this break-in. Normally, we’d ask you to discuss this within your shop, but we understand if this is a bit too much at the moment-’

‘It’s fine,’ Luna replied, sounding far tougher than Ginny would have expected. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

Still holding Ginny by the hand, Luna followed Shacklebolt into the shop, taking pains to avoid the glass scattered across the pavement.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly tidy. Aside from the windows being smashed, nothing was much out of the ordinary. Same plants, same vines reaching up the walls, etc. Ginny took a quick look around, and was almost positive that none of the plants seemed to have even been moved, let alone stolen. There were no tell-tale trails of compost, for one thing.

As they entered the kitchen, Luna strode over to the bookshelf she had recently put up against the wall. Ginny realised exactly what Madam Puddifoot had meant; there were several empty spaces where Luna’s books on Amazonian botany and plant-life were supposed to be. They had certainly been there when Ginny and Luna had left for the conference earlier that morning.

‘Ms Lovegood, we are currently trying to ascertain the motive for this,’ Shacklebolt said, as he, Luna and Ginny sat down around the table. Several police constables blocked the view into the kitchen from the shop itself. ‘The till wasn’t broken into, and no plants have been stolen, so profit doesn’t seem to have been the motive. Do you think it could be anything else? Blackmail, perhaps?’

‘No,’ Luna said. ‘It’s… well, my books on rare Amazonian plants have been stolen. They were the only things that were taken.’

A brief flicker of emotion flickered across Shacklebolt’s face.

‘I see. And… the smashed windows? An intimation tactic, perhaps?’

‘You don’t say,’ Ginny said, sarcastically. ‘What a load of bastards…’

Shacklebolt smiled at the redheads infuriated expression.

There was some raised voices from the shop. Several of the police constables began to move.

‘Ere mate, you can’t just barge in,’ exclaimed one short constable. ‘Fred, look at the nerve of this bloke…’

‘Aye, Nobby,’ said another member of the constabulary, who had a large, red face. ‘That constitutes… uh, accessory to annoyin’ a police officer-’

‘Let me through, you morons, I know Luna and Ginny-’

‘Neville!’ Ginny said.

‘Thank god you’re both here,’ the blonde man replied, as he scrambled into the kitchen and stood before them. There were some continued mutterings from behind him. ‘Luna, I’ve got a feeling that your books on Amazonian plants have been taken?’

‘Y-yes,’ Luna said. ‘Neville, how did you-’

‘Because Professor Sprout’s private stores were broken into while she was at the conference,’ Neville said, his face serious. ‘All her research into rare Amazonian plants has been stolen.’

‘O-oh,’ Luna said.

‘That sounds about right,’ Shacklebolt said, mirthlessly as he put a hand up to his earpiece. ‘I’ll need to discuss this with the office.’

He stepped through the line of constables and into the shop, already talking to whoever was communicating through his earpiece. But he was then barged aside by a tall, redheaded figure.

‘Ginny? Luna?’

‘Ron?’

Ginny’s older brother appeared through the crowd in the kitchen doorway.

‘Are you two alright?’ he asked, ignoring the mutterings from the various police constables whose feet he had accidentally-on-purpose trodden on. ‘I heard it direct from Neville earlier-’

‘We’re fine, Ronald,’ Luna said. ‘But thank you anyway.’

‘That’s good,’ Ron said. ‘You’ve got Ginny here, after all.’

Luna smiled, squeezing Ginny’s hand.

‘Yes, I do.’

Ginny found herself blushing a little.

‘How about I make us all some tea?’ Ron said. ‘Ginny, help me with the mugs?’

‘Sure.’

As the kettle began to boil, Ron turned to his sister and whispered.

‘Luna seemed pretty shook up.’

‘Yeah,’ Ginny replied, casting a quick look over her shoulder, to where Luna was talking to Neville. ‘I know she’s putting a brave face on it, but… this is her home as well her shop, y’know? The idea that someone would break into it while she was barely out for a couple hours is pretty distressing.’

‘You were both at the conference while this happened?’

‘She was half-willing to not bother today, but I thought it would be good for me to learn more about botany for her,’ Ginny said. ‘But… what if she’d been here while the break-in happened?’

‘It wouldn’t have happened, Ginny,’ Ron said, patting her on the shoulder in support. ‘I’ve got a feeling that whoever did this timed it so it happened during the conference itself, when they knew Luna would be out of the way.’

‘You reckon?’

‘Yeah. I mean, why else do it in the middle of the day? Especially on a busy London street.’

Ginny nodded, putting sugar into Luna’s mug (Luna always liked two spoonful’s of sugar in her tea).

‘Ginny?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Just… I think Luna’s going to need you with her,’ Ron said. ‘And I reckon you’ll be there with her one-hundred-per-cent, right?’

‘Of course,’ Ginny replied. ‘I’d die than let anyone hurt her.’

Ron smiled.

‘Hopefully, it won’t come to that. But just be careful, okay.’

Ginny stared at him.

‘It’s a break-in, Ron, not a terrorist operation.’

‘Still.’

Ron poured the water into the various mugs, added the Kingsley Shacklebolt had returned. He nodded to the police constables nearby in a knowing way. He then turned to Luna.

‘Ms Lovegood, do we have your permission to check the premises for any listening equipment?’

Luna stared at him in confusion.

‘My apologies, Ms Lovegood, but we cannot be too cautious. The people who broke in could have bugged the place.’

‘Do thieves normally do that?’

‘No, but I don’t believe we are dealing with normal thieves here.’

Luna swallowed, looking worried.

‘Okay; you have my permission to check.’

‘Thank you,’ said Shacklebolt, before turning to the constables.

‘Secure the perimeter.’

The assembled constables spread out. All the doors and windows were closed, and the entire shop and kitchen were checked thoroughly, including the underside of the table and every light fixture.

After the constables seemed satisfied that nothing had been tampered with, Kingsley sat down again at the table. Ginny joined Luna on the other side, while Ron and Neville remained standing.

‘I’m afraid that I now have reason to believe that this is an international conspiracy,’ he Shacklebolt said, his voice grave. ‘Which means that I am now authorised to give yourself, Miss Weasley, Mr Weasley and Mr Longbottom security clearance.’

‘Er… what?’

The man smiled.

‘My name is Agent Shacklebolt of MI5,’ he said, as he flashed a badge. ‘My apologies for not being honest with you earlier, but it wouldn’t have done you any good to know unless you needed to. I’ve been tracking these break-ins for a while, but now I have solid proof that they aren’t just isolated occurrences.’

‘You’re a… a spy?!’ Ginny gasped, shocked. ‘Like James Bond?’

‘I’m afraid the reality is far less glamorous,’ Agent Shacklebolt replied, smiling slightly. ‘But, yes, I am a spy. Or spook, if you like. Normally, I only deal with domestic issues but, given the international nature of this threat, I will be liaising with my peers in MI6. They should be here in a moment.’

He put a hand to the small head-set in his ear, and began to talk quietly.

‘I always did wonder what the difference was between them,’ Ginny muttered. Luna chuckled under her breath.

A man passed through the police (who had, by this point, grown sick of being used as a sort of living wall), and stood in front of the table. His face was covered in scars, and his hair was a messy, mousy brown. He gave the appearance of looking far older than his age.

‘Hello,’ said the man, smiling softly. ‘My name is Agent Lupin of MI6, but you may call me Remus.’

~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you liked it!

[bittercoldbrew]

Well, geeze, this got outta hand... I blame @silverwolf319​ for being so kind and encouraging and joining me in the little spoon!Ezra club even though he’s technically a big spoon in this one, but I think it still qualifies. Thank you, darling 💕

In theory this is a follow-up to my earlier Ezra/OC oneshot (which is, in theory, a follow-up to my finished story, To Build Something New), but I think they can be read independently, or in any order you please. Here we’ve got about 5k words of just the softest fluff I think I’ve ever written, Cee and Ezra and his unnamed partner with she/her pronouns, building a blanket fort together when the rain keeps them all up at night. This briefly gets a teensy bit saucier than the other one did, so I’m asking to keep this one 18+ only, please and thanks, friends. No other warnings, just an absurd amount of established relationship sweetness here. Enjoy!

Most nights, she loves the skylight above their bed, loves the view of the vast and glorious expanse of space beyond the meager atmosphere of this dwarf planet that has become so dear to her—loves, too, the occasional brush of willowy branches against the glass from the big tree outside, when the wind is up. After so very many years spent floating through the galaxy aboard slingbacks and freighters, she needs this glimpse of the heavens just as much as she needs the reminder of the solid ground beneath her feet. Even now, more than two years spent as a resident of Aphelia, she still has horrid dreams of hull breaches and micrometeoroids and hairline cracks, and often it helps to wake and watch for lazy clouds drifting by or those familiar leaves or the rare nightbird, proof that there is a sky here, hugging her close to the crust of the planet she’s made her own and promising to never let her be sucked out into the void.

Tonight, however, and the storm it has brought, offer far more proof than she would ever need. The wind howls; branches thrash and snap into the air; rain pelts harsh rhythms against the glass; and the sky is so full up with clouds that she can’t find a single soothing glimmer of any stars beyond.

The man in bed beside her, with his steady breaths and radiant warmth, the gentle weight of his arm across her belly, should be more than comfort enough. Ezra is not often an easy sleeper, but he can be a deep one under the right circumstances, and if she were a sensible woman she'd cuddle up against his chest and let the sweet thrumming of his tender heart lull her back to sleep.

She puts on a good show, she'll admit; but she is not often as sensible as people seem to believe.

Feeling guilty, yet restless, she creeps out from under his loose hold and to the edge of the bed. Light flashes overhead, followed closely by a deep groan of thunder, and she freezes halfway to her feet and glances over her shoulder to make sure it hasn’t woken him. But no, his eyes are still closed, those pretty dark lashes fanned against his cheeks, though a slight frown now creases his brow. He buries his face deeper into the pillow with a soft grumble, and she releases her held breath and stands and creeps around the bed and out into the hall—taking one of the spare blankets with her, of course.

She has some vague thoughts of decaffeinated tea and chocolate bars, maybe a dip into that carton of ripe berries in the refrigeration unit if Ezra hasn’t eaten them all by now, but her weary feet can’t seem to carry her that long way to the kitchen and she all but collapses onto the couch, instead. Ridiculous, she thinks, that she can feel this exhausted and this wired simultaneously. There’s been a stomach bug getting passed around at work, one she’s somehow managed to dodge thus far—both a blessing and a curse, because it’s meant that she’s been picking up extra shifts left and right. Tomorrow—technically today, she confirms after a quick glance at the time—is supposed to be her first day off in a tenday and a half, and she’s been so looking forward to finally having time to unwind and spend with her little family. Given the way her pulse keeps jumping with every crash of lightning and rattle of windows, she’s going to spend the day catching up on lost sleep, instead.

Cursing herself, her anxiety, and the weather—not necessarily in that order—she curls up against the arm of the couch and tucks the blanket under her chin, contents herself to a night spent merely hoping for sleep to come.

The storm is...beautiful, she has to admit, viewed through the front room’s wide windows. Dark as it is, there’s enough sheet lightning to paint the sky in grayish purples and greens, and the ribbons of rain seem to dance in the wind. They do have a DTV in here, but the signal isn’t great even on the clearest of days, and the serials streaming in the overnight public blocks are nothing but trash. The storm, for all its insolence, is likely to be far more entertaining.

She loses track of how long she sits there, knees pulled up to her chest, head resting against the back of the couch, until she hears the low rasp of her name and turns to find Ezra shuffling into the room. His hair is mussed, his chest bare, patched and tattered sleep pants riding tantalizingly low on lean hips; but his eyes are only half-open, hand and attention occupied as he hitches his prosthesis up over the liner that insulates his limb remnant, and seals it into place. There’s a soft hiss, and then a gentle whirr as the delicate machinery twitches synthetic finger and wrist and elbow joints, cycling through its startup flexibility test.

While it’s busy, Ezra rests his left arm on the back of the couch, and leans over to place a slow and sleepy kiss to her lips. “Hey, you,” he sighs.

“Hey, you,” she answers, mouth spreading up into a smile as she lifts a hand to smooth along his jaw. “I’m sorry; did I wake you?”

“Nah, the storm did,” he tells her, and though he’s not the sort of man to lie to her, she’s not entirely sure she believes him. “Mind if I sit with you a while?”

“I’d love that.” Kevva only knows why they’re whispering, with the storm crashing so loudly around them, but it feels right, here in the dark—especially when he comes around and settles in close beside her. She unwinds the blanket and drapes it over them both, and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her into his warmth. He smells a bit like derma-cream, but she’s grown so accustomed to the tangy blend of menthol and citrus that it mostly just smells like home, and she all but melts into him.

“How long you been awake, starlight?” he asks, keeping his voice low and gentle, and she sighs and shakes her head.

“Never fell asleep in the first place. I got up, oh...” She lifts her gaze, checking the time that floats into view, courtesy of her optical implant. “An hour ago, maybe?”

He squeezes her tight, and she can hear the frown in his voice as he asks, “Why didn’t you wake me?”

She kisses his shoulder—there’s a little cream there, too, and it makes her lips tingle for a brief moment. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t wanna interrupt.”

He huffs, dipping his head to meet her eyes. “You know you’re more important, babygirl. Besides...” he trails off, lifting an unsubtle eyebrow, “you know how much I love sendin’ you to sleep.”

She snorts a laugh, shakes her head. “You’re a selfless man.”

“I’m just eager to help,” he says, grinning, and she laughs again.

“You’re eager for something, I’ll grant you that.” The grin broadens, his cheek dimpling, and she considers the offer. It’s tempting, that’s for sure—she’s been working so much, hasn’t had much time or energy to indulge in the pleasure he’s always so willing to give her. She’s missed him, missed the sweet words that fall from his lips as he comes undone for her, missed the way he fills her just right, as though his body was made for hers, and hers for his.

But the idea of just the walk from the couch to the bedroom seems a little insurmountable right now, even for such a delectable reward. She doesn’t think her body can get any more exhausted than it already is, with or without his best efforts, and sleep hasn’t blessed her yet; and he’d put his arm on which means he’d expected to be awake for a while, hadn’t really planned on taking her back to bed so soon. With a sigh, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck, and shakes her head softly. “Thank you...but I think I’d just like to listen to the rain a little longer.”

He nods, hugging her close and resting his cheek against her hair. “That sounds just fine to me.”

Ezra gives her so many reasons to love him, and this is no exception—how willing he is to set aside his own desires for hers, how he always seems to know when she wants to be wooed and persuaded into bed versus when she just wants to be close to him without interference, even of the pleasurable kind.

She’s never been as skilled with words as he is, has no idea how to really verbalize such a feeling, but she breathes against his neck, “I love you so much, Ez,” and hopes it might suffice, for now.

He rubs her back, presses a kiss to the top of her head, murmurs, “I love you too, baby,” into her hair, his soft voice full of so much tenderness that she thinks he understands everything she’s ever left unsaid.

A boom of thunder splits the night, so close it seems to happen before the blinding flash, and they both jump. Ezra pulls away, squeezes her shoulder. “I’m gonna...go check that out,” he tells her, and she nods as he heaves himself to his feet and crosses the room to peer through the window.

She twists around to try and watch as he moves away from the glass and heads into the kitchen, beyond her view. An instant later, she hears the back door slide open, a strong draft and sharp whistle of wind blowing into the house before it closes again. “Ezra?” she calls, but there’s no response, so she assumes he’s gone outside to investigate, and waits with bated breath for him to return.

A minute later, he does, with another rush of wind; then he comes striding back around the corner, rubbing at his wet hair with a dish towel and looking far more awake and alert than he had before. “Looks like there’s a tree down in the back,” he announces, shaking his head. “Not one of ours, though, and I didn’t see a lick of flame. Too wet out there, I reckon.”

She puffs out a breath, and nods her head. “That’s a relief.”

“Mm-hm,” he agrees, dragging the towel over his face and down his neck and across his broad, glistening chest. Her hands suddenly itch to grab the towel from him and finish the job herself (possibly with her tongue, perhaps, fuck the towel, why do they even have towels?), the sight of him enough to cause her mind and libido to make a stark course correction from where she’d just said she wanted this night to lead, and she opens her mouth to make those intentions clear.

Before she can, another voice speaks up. “Did you guys hear that?”

Twisting back the other way, she turns and spots Cee stepping into the room, one hand rubbing at her tired eyes, the other holding her beloved plush Puzu doll against her stomach. “Aww, not you, too,” she calls, propping her chin on the back of the couch and offering the girl a sympathetic smile.

“We didn’t wake you, did we, little bird?” Ezra asks, slinging the towel over his shoulder with a sheepish expression on his face.

“Pretty sure it was the sky exploding that did it,” the teenager says dryly, shaking her head. “Planets are weird.”

“They are indeed,” he agrees, glancing from his daughter to his partner with a broad grin. Of the three of them, she is the de facto expert on planets, having resided on one for the longest and most recent stretch of time—but that was almost twenty years ago, now, so she isn’t entirely convinced it should count.

Shaking her head, she hauls herself up off the couch and stretches her arms up above her head, feeling something pop along her spine. “Well,” she sighs, turning to face them with her hands on her hips. “Why don’t I make us some cocoa, then, before we lose power or something?”

They both seem thrilled by the prospect, and she makes her way into the kitchen with a smile, taking only a slight detour to trail her fingers along the cooled, damp skin of Ezra’s back as she passes him by. There will be opportunity enough, later, for her hands to have their fill of him. They might all end up sleeping the day away after this storm finally passes, so for now she’s going to make the most of this time to spend with them.

Her hot chocolate recipe, perfected over the course of many years of sleepless nights, has become something of a ritual now that she has these two beloved people to make it for; she falls into it without conscious thought, toasting cardamom pods and a cinnamon stick in the saucepan before adding milk, then chopping up a bar of the good chocolate to stir in once it’s warm enough. The storm still rages loudly, and she can only just make out the cadence and timbre of Cee’s and Ezra’s voices as they discuss something in the other room, and she lets the sounds wash over her as she grabs a foil-wrapped parcel of popcorn and sets it on the other burner to pop, marveling at how surreal yet mundane it feels, to have a family—something she’d never even dreamed of for herself, before she met these two.

She’s poking around in the pantry, checking to see if there are any other tasty treats to munch on, when the sound of heavy furniture creaking along the floor—and their resulting laughter—reaches her ears and makes her question all those warm and fuzzy feelings. She leans back, trying to catch sight of what’s going on over there, and calls, “What’re you two up to?”

“Nothin’!” Ezra answers, far too quickly for her comfort, and she frowns and takes a step that way.

But then Cee calls back, “It’s a surprise! No peeking!”

“Fine! Fine,” she mutters, shaking her head but turning back. She’s pretty sure, now, what they’re doing, but resolves not to interfere in the creative process unless they ask for it.

Besides, she has snacks to prepare.

She whips up a few peanut butter sandwiches, crusts on and sliced into triangles, in case anyone’s really hungry—they’ll make for a quick lunch tomorrow, if not—and grabs the last few handfuls of berries out of the fridge as well. Tossing one into her mouth, the sweet, sharp juice bursts along her tongue as she dumps the popcorn into a big bowl and pointedly ignores the sounds of bedroom doors opening and something heavy being dragged down the hall. She fills the kettle with water and heats that, too, just in case they do lose power tonight and someone decides they want tea or something before it comes back; with a couple towels draped on top, it should stay warm enough until morning.

The milk is ready, so she scoops out the spices and whisks in the chocolate and ladles up three mugs, then arranges them and all the food into one of the fruit crates Ez brings home from Kikur, and calls, “Can I come in yet?”

“Just—hang on a tick,” he grunts, and she can hear a bit of scuffling. Then, Cee’s voice, “Okay, it’s ready!”

Already smiling, she hefts up the crate and heads over to see what they’ve made of the front room.

The coffee table has disappeared entirely; the couch has been moved back against the wall, its seats and pillows removed to serve as cushions atop Cee’s mattress, relocated from her bedroom to the floor. The floor lamp was taken from its usual corner to stand at the foot of the mattress, and two big bedsheets have been clothespinned together and draped over its lampshade and tucked behind the back of the couch, forming a canopy to cover their heads while still giving them a view of the windows and the rain beyond.

Ezra has changed into a dry pair of sweatpants and one of the soft sweaters she tends to steal from his wardrobe when he’s away. He clicks on the lamp, bathing the space inside in a warm, cloth-dampened glow; then he takes a step back and surveys their work with his hands on his hips and a serious expression, as though it were something far more architecturally complex than a cozy blanket fort. “You know, I think this is our best one yet.”

She sets the crate down gently, careful not to spill anything, and crosses her arms with an appraising air. “You know, I think you might be right...” she says, nodding her head slowly. “We better get in it, just to be sure.”

Laughing, Cee tosses her stuffed animal inside and clambers in first. She follows after the girl, settling in among the soft cushions and warm blankets with a sigh, amazed at how well the lightweight sheets muffle the harsh noise of the raging storm.

Ezra doesn’t join them just yet, instead crouching down to investigate the contents of the crate. “What is all this, starlight?” he asks, lifting up and passing over the mugs of chocolate and bowl of popcorn. “You made us a feast.”

“Just some snacks, to tide us over. Hey, no, you give that to us,” she reprimands, seeing him prying open the carton of berries. “Don’t even think about it.”

The man is a berry-eating fiend, just inhales the things like some sort of confused anteater gone frugivore. If she takes her eyes off him for one second with that carton in his possession, they’ll all be gone before she and Cee ever get a chance.

Even with her staring him down, he pops three into his mouth at once; but then he does, begrudgingly, hand the rest over, so she allows this transgression and snatches them up and passes the carton into Cee’s hands for safekeeping.

“You’re so mean to me,” he grumbles, even as he rests the plate of sandwiches she made on top of the mattress and stuffs one wedge into his mouth, finally moving past the lamp and under the canopy to settle against the cushions beside her.

“You need to learn how to share,” she scolds, taking the bitten-off piece of sandwich from his mouth and biting into it herself.

“Ew, no,” Cee groans. “If you two are gonna be gross, you’ll be banished from the fort.”

"Sorry, boss," she tells her, genuinely chastened.

Ezra nods his head, settling his expression into something solemn. "She's harsh, but fair."

Then, in a flash, he snatches back the last corner of bread and peanut butter and shoves it in his mouth, shattering the moment and sending them all into fits of laughter, too giddy from the lateness of the hour and the lack of sleep and the spontaneity of finding themselves all huddled together like this to ever be able (or willing) to reign in their shared mirth.

They giggle and tease each other and snack, mouths going sticky with peanut butter and chocolate, fingertips smeared with butter and salt and berry juice, even as the wind howls and the rain beats down on the roof. Here, under their makeshift tent, the three of them are warm and content and safe, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been so happy to have found herself unable to fall asleep.

Cee is not often very physically affectionate, but she turns into a real cuddlebug when tired, and tonight is no exception. The older woman wraps her arms around the teenager’s shoulders and hugs her close, the Puzu plush tucked between them.

Beside her, Ezra tosses the last of the berries into his mouth and heaves a slow, satisfied sigh. “Did I ever tell you two about the time I met a ghost? Was a night just like this one.”

The girls look at each other, sharing matching dubious glances. “No, you haven’t,” Cee says, voice dry as bone. “And no, you definitely didn’t.”

“Swear it on my good arm!” he proclaims, laying his prosthetic hand over his heart, and it is utterly impossible to tell if the expression on his face is genuine or not. “Even know whose specter it was; I described his face to my crew after they found me, and one of the old timers said, ‘Why, that was Long Richard Johnson!’”

His captive audience squawk similar, wordless sounds of protest—she’s certain there’s never been such a man with such a name, let alone a spirit of the same.

But Ezra’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise, and he pushes himself up on his elbows to gape at them. “What? You never heard the legend of Ol’ Long Dick?”

“Stop,” Cee groans, tossing a handful of popcorn at his face, but he shakes his head, a grin spreading across his face as he really starts to delve into the role of storyteller.

“No, no, I’m not— This is not just a me thing, this an honest-to-Kevva prospector’s legend. He was one of the greats, the first independent contractor to ever set foot on the Green.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, still disbelieving, but resting her cheek atop Cee’s head to listen. With or without any kernel of truth, this is bound to be an interesting tale, at least.

“I mean it! He was the first to reject allegiance to any of the corps; and they let ‘im, too, because no one else, before or since, could suss out those gems like he could. He was a master of the Green Moon; they say he was the first to locate the Queen’s Lair, but he refused to mark it on any map or tell anyone where it was, knew the corps were too greedy and bloodthirsty to ever be trusted with such knowledge. They say he hired a private ship to sneak him out there without their purview, determined to harvest it all his own self, but there was some engine trouble and he never did make it. They say he’s buried up at the top of the Green’s highest peak, with a headstone that reads, ‘Here lies Long Dick Johnson, who earned every inch of his name’.”

“You’re a menace,” she gasps, pelting him with more popcorn, because she’d almost started believing him until that last bit.

But he only laughs and shakes his head, plucking popcorn out of his own hair and tossing it in his mouth. “I’m only relaying what I myself have been told, any deviations from the truth are someone else’s doing.”

“And this ‘ghost’ you saw?” Cee asks, making exaggerated air quotes with a skeptical look on her face.

“Ah, now, that is my tale to tell.” He leans in and props his chin in his hand, voice lowering to a whisper as he begins, “It was a night just like this one...”

He weaves a tapestry with his words, painting a picture for them of himself as a (somewhat) fresher-faced kip, new to the moon above Bakhroma, having contracted out his able body and his rundown ship to a crew of grizzled prospectors, in exchange for training on how to harvest the dazzling gems and a reasonable cut of their earnings. All had gone accordingly, until they found themselves caught in one of the moon’s rare, but devastating, rainstorms, and had to stay cooped up inside the ship, unable to harvest and unable to relocate lest the ship get struck by lightning midair and leave them stranded there permanently. So instead he spent his days learning complicated board games with made-up rules using bits and pieces of supplies they had lying around, letting his ears be filled with raucous stories of days and prospectors gone by.

And then, late one night, he’d been shaken awake by a man he’d thought to be one of the crew, dragged from his bunk and shuffled into his suit and helmet and filter and pack. He’d only briefly tried to hesitate, to wake the others, but the man had grabbed him and growled, “There’s no time, boy—move, or you’ll miss it.” So, only half awake and unable to think straight, he’d obeyed without question and followed him out the airlock.

He had stumbled in the dark, in the mud, in the rain and wind, still relatively new to this and unaccustomed to the bulky suit, and by the time he realized that the only reason he could follow at all was because the man leading him was glowing—luminous and stark and visible even through the sheeting rain and dust and muck that clouded his helmet—they were too far from the ship for him to ever have any hope of making it back on his own. He’d had no choice but to plod along after the ghost, for hours, maybe, until finally the figure stopped and pointed at his feet and commanded, “Dig.”

And then, without a whole lotta options otherwise, he had obeyed.

Eventually, the storm passed, and the light dawned, and his crew must’ve noticed his empty bunk and followed the single track of stumbling footprints until they found him where he’d fallen asleep in the shallow gouge he’d carved in the dirt, still clutching his shovel.

They accused him of sleepwalking, of cabin fever, of dipping into the good hooch behind their backs—all without malice, really, but certainly refusing to believe any claim of spectral visions. At least, that was, until one of the men looked down, and realized that the thing at his feet wasn’t, in fact, a large clump of dirt, but an aurelac root nodule the size of a small child.

“To this day, that was my finest single harvest,” he admits, shaking his head slowly. “The crew gave me a heartier cut than promised, and still all had enough to retire off of. Not me, though; from that day on, I was hooked. Sunk my savings in a newer ship and sought out another crew and kept goin’ back, always hoping to see him again, to pull another fabled haul.”

She nods her head, unsure of what she could possibly have to say to that, but she can so vividly imagine how such an experience would inspire a man like him, would spur him on to the sort of life he’s led. So she says nothing, simply lays a hand against his cheek, letting the edge of her thumb rest in the dimple that creases his cheek as he blinks and tears his gaze away from the past to smile at her instead.

He turns his head, presses his lips to her palm with a sweet kiss, and nods toward the teenager resting against her shoulder. “How long’s she been out?”

“Hm?” she asks, surprised, and looks down to find that he’s right, that the girl’s eyes are firmly closed, her chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. “Oh,” she whispers, scared to wake her, “I didn’t even notice.”

His breathy laugh is quiet, a chuckle kept mostly inside his chest, and he nods his head and says, “Let’s not wake her. She can sleep out here, don’t you think?”

“I—” she tries, but the words are stifled by a deep yawn that causes tears to prick at the corners of her eyes; she brushes them away, offers him a sheepish smile. “I think I might join her.”

His grin is brilliant as he nods again, leans in for a quick kiss, then pulls back and starts gathering up the empty mugs and half-eaten popcorn and sandwiches. “How about we all stay, hm? I’ll put these away.”

“Here, I can help—” she starts, but he catches her reaching hand in his and shakes his head.

“I got it, baby. You stay here with her, yeah? I’ll be back soon.”

She nods, rubbing at her eye again, the exhaustion of the past two weeks finally catching up with her. “You promise?”

Ezra kisses her again, warm, soft lips lingering in a way that steals her breath away, leaves her lightheaded and a little dazed when he pulls back and whispers, “I promise.”

She settles deeper into the cushions as he quietly gathers up the dishes and food and the few errant popcorn kernels they’d thrown at him, and slips out from the blanket fort. It’s immediately colder in there without his warmth, emptier without his familiar weight beside her, and she hugs Cee a little tighter as she listens to the fridge opening and closing, the faucet turning on and off, his footsteps drawing near then moving past and away down the hall to the bedroom. Above it all, the sound of the rain against the roof has settled into a steadier, gentler thrum, the booming thunder and frightful wind moving on to rattle someone else’s windows.

When Ezra returns, clicking off the lamp and crawling under the canopy to slide in beside her, he has removed his prosthetic arm—never fond of sleeping with it on—and brought the heavy quilt from atop their bed along with him. She helps him spread it out over all three of them, making sure Cee is tucked in snug while he settles in and wraps his arm around her waist.

He rests his chin on her available shoulder, his whispered words a warm brush of breath on her skin as he asks, “What’d you think of my story?”

“I think it was...effective at making us all sleepy.”

He huffs a laugh, rubs his nose against her cheek. “Alright, sure, but did you believe it?”

She grins in the dark, even though she knows he can’t see it. “I believe that you believe it,” she allows.

His lips, pressing against her skin, curl up into a smile, and the warmth of it works its way deep into her heart and radiates from there to the top of her head and the tips of her toes. His hand slips beneath her shirt, palm spreading along her belly—not teasing, not suggesting anything more than a blatant desire to touch as much of her as he can. “That’s more than enough for me,” he sighs, achingly content.

She nods her head in agreement; and in these last few instants of consciousness before sleep finally claims her, she thinks that this moment, snuggled close between the two best people in the known universe, safe and warm from any storm, is more than enough for her, too.

[teeztheflag]

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P r i n c e s s

⋆ pairing: mafia!san x reader x mafia!hong joong

⋆ genre: mafia au, smut

⋆ warnings: alcohol, strong language, age gap, threesome, anal sex, double penetration, mentions of killing

⋆ words: 4,600

„There‘s one condition. You have to promise to be our and only our princess from now on. What do you think?“

─────────────────────

Bodies sway from side to side in sensual ways while the club consumes everyone in its rhythm. You yourself already lost track in time by rolling your hips to the music not seeing or hearing anything else since you entered the dancefloor. After some time you decide to get to the bar for a refreshment and while waiting you start to let your eyes roam around the club. In one of the booths you find your best friend being occupied in a hot make out session with a girl.

You suppress the smile that is urging to grow on your face and thank the bartender when he hands you your drink. That’s really what you needed. You would go back dancing after you finish your drink and while devouring the toxic liquid you spend the time with watching the wasted people in this club called ‚Wonderland‘.

Your gaze stops at a booth section right across from you. You tense when you suddenly feel a pair of eyes land on your form and quickly look down at your hands that were playing with your glass. Your were caught staring.

Well, technically you didn’t even know what you were looking at or more precisely who. The only thing you were able to catch a slight glimpse at were two boys or men sitting and watching the scene, too.

You were growing impatient. So eventually you dare to peek again into the direction only to find one of the men missing. Since the light play of the club slows down for another song the man‘s figure starts to be illuminated in unsteady intervals. But it is enough to see him slightly smirk and raise one eyebrow in a provocating way daring you to check him out any longer.

„Princess wanna‘ join us?“

You startle so hard at the silk voice and minty breath next to your face you accidentally spill some of the liquid out of your glass to the ground. Turning around you are met with one of the probably most handsome man you’ve ever seen. When your eyes linger a little bit too long on his face and icy white hair he leans in again and breathes down your neck to repeat his suggestion.

You already understood the first time but were too nervous to say anything to a beautiful man like him.

He smiles at you and lightly turns his head to the said booth with the other man waiting who watches the amusing scene with high interest.

After mindlessly nodding at him he grabs you by your waist and carefully guides you away from the crowd and up to the booth where his partner is eagerly waiting.

„My, my. What a diamond you brought us, Joong!“

The man in the booth makes place for the two of you and you are sit down between them the man holding you not letting go of your waist in the process.

„Tell me princess, what’s your name?“

The man hands you a drink and patiently waits for your answer. The other one takes this as an opportunity to shamelessly let his gaze roam over your petite form and stops at your hand that tries to pull down your short dress a little bit.

Sweet.

The man licks his lips at the sight and fights down the urge to fuck you right here in his club where all the people can see you. Your sweetness just emphasizes your pure appearance even more.

„Y/N. That’s my name.“ You shyly look to the ground not being able to hold eye contact with one of these godly men more than a second.

„Mh, what a beautiful name for a gorgeous girl like you. Don’t you think, San?“

„It is. But I think princess suits you the best.“

Your heart makes a beat when the man named San takes your small face between his smooth thumb and index finger turning it to face him.

His eyes turn into crescents and dimples adore his features when he shoots you an intoxicating sweet smile. You only stare in awe at him taking in his beauty. Surprisingly you like his feathery touches on your skin that make funny things to your tummy.

„Is it ok if we call you princess, Y/N?“

Hong Joong steals your attention from San when he pushes you back a little bit causing you to end in his embrace.

„Y-yes, it’s okay.“

Both men smile at you and you sip from your drink trying to calm down a little bit. It wasn’t your first time talking to older men but definitely the first flirting with two at the same time. Well, at least you thought they were both interested in you regarding their littles touches and gazes.

„You are really cute. How old are you, Y/Nah?“

„Actually, my 18th birthday was just a few weeks ago.“

You were afraid to disappoint them with your age but you liked sincerity so you decided to tell the truth.

„Oh, you are really a young princess. Only 18, that’s so precious!“ San can’t hold back his happiness about your age and pokes your little cheek at your confession earning him a sweet giggle out of your mouth.

„Princess, we are only a few years older than you. And you’re not a minor anymore. So everything’s good, right?“

„Yes, I think so...“

San is still grinning at you while Hong Joong starts to draw little circles over your exposed thigh with his finger tips. You feel the area he manages to reach form goosebumps and you suddenly shiver at his actions. He seems to notice your little shaking and stops to lay his hand flat on your tight flesh.

Again you bring the glass up to your lips emptying it with on swift move. The boys watch you eagerly but San‘s sending you a questioning look when you grimace because of the strong alcohol. With a flick of his fingers immediately a waiter appears and the boy with the mullet whispers something to him. The waiter bows to San and practically flys to the bar.

Hong Joong chuckles a bit at your cuteness and low level of drinking ability and takes a strand of your hair between his thin fingers to guide it back behind your ears. You cannot concentrate on anything if he’s touching you constantly. So you have to try hard to hear what San says when the waiter comes back with a bottle of ice cold Fiji water.

„Little girls shouldn’t drink too much.“

He winks at you and gestures for you to drink up.

„Oh, I am good. But thank you!“

„It wasn’t a question, princess.“

Something in his voice tells you he wouldn’t take a no again and you start to drink the water feeling a relief in your system. Hong Joong kisses your hair as a reward for your obedience but being not used to the proximity yet you flinch a little bit leaving the man pouting at you.

„I am sorry. Didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.“

„No, it’s not... I mean there are still many people here...“

San and Hong Joong literally coo at your pure statement. San takes your hand into his stroking it in lovely motions.

„You are absolutely right. Do you wanna‘ come with us to our place?“

Do you? You don’t know these handsome strangers and they could try to take advantage of you as soon as there were no witnesses.

They recognize you taking time and Hong Joong knows the more you rethink it the possibility of you rejecting them grows. With a soft move he takes away his warm and comfortable arm around your form and leaves you cold. San understands and distances himself a little bit, too.

„Or we can call a cab for you, Y/N?“

Their technique seems to work when you practically whimper at the loss of touch. It brings you out of your thoughts and before you can think straight you stop them.

„No, I really want to come with you!“

Both men hide their amusement and this time San takes your form in his arm and guides you outside.

After a twenty minute trip you arrive in front of a grand mansion. Hong Joong opens the door for you and takes your hand. All this time both males watch your reactions. When you ask them if they were rich or something San only smiles following you and Hong Joong inside their house.

Of course they were rich. They nearly controlled the whole country. But you didn’t need to know that at this moment.

To say you are impressed would be an understatement. You never have seen such luxury before in your life.

You take back your hand out of Hong Joong‘s grasp and start to take in your surroundings. Spinning around in the entry area you watch every little detail of the richness.

„Please tell me about your employment. I think I am going to change my major!“

Both men heartly laugh at your suggestion. You wouldn’t want to if you knew.

„You’re in college, princess?“

San emerged from behind and embraces your form in a tight back hug leaning his face in your shoulder. He starts to usher you forward and you see the livingroom nearing.

„Yes, I am studying to become a teacher!“

„Oh, one day you will be the perfect mommy.“

That was a little bit strange but you humm at it nervertheless.

The three of you make yourselves comfortable on the big couch in their living room and start to make a little bit small talk. After some time you start to come out of your shell and tell them a lot about yourself and your hobbies.

They ask you more and more questions and you realize that you technically don’t know anything about them to this point.

„So, what are you doing for a living? I mean, who can afford such a grand palace?“

As soon as the question leaves your mouth Hong Joong‘s smile falters a little bit and San‘s lips seem to twitch for only a second. You really were a curious princess. After Hong Joong composes himself he motions for you to come to him and sit down in his lap. You debate with yourself but as excitement fills your body at the thought of feeling him under you your body reacts on his own. You find yourself sitting in the boy‘s lap like a little girl your arms around his neck to hold onto him. His face nears your own and you are brave enough to hold the eye don’t as he caresses your cheeks with his hands.

„That’s a good girl. You know, what we do isn’t quite something for princesses to know. But I can tell you that we are willing to fulfill every wish of yours.“

„Every wish?“

There is indeed something you wish for as you feel your face heat up at his soothing touches. You feel your arousal forming and your panties growing wet from it.

But why aren’t they answering your question. As if San seems to recognize your uncertainty again he comes over to the two of you and sits down next to Hong Joong your back facing him. Suddenly he embraces your waist from behind and pushes away your hair to give him a better access to your smooth neck.

You shudder when he presses down an open mouthed kiss to your shoulder causing you to only lean more into the boy.

„Wait. Why me? And what do you want in return?“

They are both taken back by your sharpness but like it. Hong Joong chuckles at you and grabs your neck to move your face right in front of his.

„Don’t you know how hard you made us with your sinful movements on the dancefloor?“

His gaze burns at you with enormous lust and it takes everything in you to not moan at loud.

„I didn’t know...“

„Of course. That’s why I am telling you now. Your body practically screamed for us to take care of you, princess.“

You don’t know what to say anymore. His words alone could make you cum undone right at this moment. You clench your tighs together but Hong Joong seems to notice and before you can react he pushes his hand between your legs and holds your princess part in one hand.

You try to get away from him only to have San holding you in place from behind.

„Ohhh...“

„There‘s one condition. You have to promise to be our and only our princess from now on. What do you think?“

He adds some pressure with his flat hand onto your clit and you swear stars are forming in front of your eyes.

„Y-yes! I promise!“

San chuckles behind you. „What do you promise? Say ,I promise to be only Hong Joong‘s and San‘s princess from now on!‘ Do it!“

„I promise to be only Hong Joong‘s and San‘s princess from now on!“

„Good girl.“ San purrs into your ear and suddenly both boys let go of you leaving you a whimpering mess on the couch. They stand up and watch from above how you are clenching around and biting your lip in a seductive manner.

San and Hong Joong exchange quick glances and San takes you up in bridal style and the three of you go upstairs to a equally luxurious bedroom. He carefully puts you down on the fluffy blankets and kisses his way down to your feet until he frees you from your stilettos.

Hong Joong emerges from another room and puts something into his pocket when he sees your already tired gaze. He sits down beside you onto the bed and watches as San professionally undresses you in front of the two mafia leaders.

When you are totally naked San takes in your breathtaking body sprayed out all vulnerable on the bed ready to be devoured like a dessert. His bulge is growing in his pants at the sight and creates a painful urge to free himself of his clothes, too. But he knows they want to prepare you first.

You shiver at the coldness your exposed body is met with and thank Hong Joong when he cradles behind you and positions you between his legs back facing him. He spreads your legs wide for San who needs to pay attention to not drool at the sight of your beautiful pink pussy. San takes a hold of himself and emerges your form to kiss your parted lips.

„You smell so wonderful princess. Like a flower that’s only blooming for us.“

You whimper as Hong Joong breathes in the scent of your hair and neck and flinch when he starts to sink his teeth into your pulse point sending you to utopia. You moan out loud closing your eyes and fully lean into the man behind you giving him better access.

San takes this chance and lunches downwards to plunge his tongue as deep as he can into your entrance.

„Fuck! What are y-“

You look at the brown haired boy between your legs and how his demeanor changed into something like a possessive demon the way he tries to reach and taste every inch of your slit.

Soon the overwhelming sensation of being pleased by two man at the same time sends you over the edge. Your legs are starting to tremble terribly when you feel your orgasm starting to build from deep within you. San notices and adds a finger into your pussy. He starts to penetrate your g-spot in rhythmic motions and sucks at your clit like his life depended on it.

„There you go princess! Cum for us!“

„Nghaa... please!“

„Do it you little slut!“

Hong Joong starts to lightly choke you and suddenly your whole body is consumed by a mindblowing orgasm that rattles your whole being.

„SAN! Fuck! Oh my gosh!“

You whimper out loud when he rides you through your explosion with his fingers and slowly takes them out when you fall limb in Hong Joong‘s arms.

You merely make out San‘s glistening smile only recognizing that his whole chin is plastered in your wet cum. He draws big circles on your thighs while Hong Jong kisses your face and hair helping you to calm down from the shaking event.

„Do you want to continue princess?“

Can you? You really feel worn out but seeing the two boys watching you with excited eyes you want to know what else they wanted to do with you.

You try to sit down straight in front of them and grab Hong Joong by his collar to guide him into a meaningful kiss. You play with his tongue and dominate his mouth causing him to smirk into the kiss. He seems to like that so you add it to your mental notes.

San watches the hot make out session and undresses himself quickly. When he’s fully naked he takes his dick into one hand and starts to stroke it while Hong Joong grabs your tits and plays with your nipples causing you to slightly flinch. Next the white haired boy guides you to the edge of the bed where San is standing.

You took in the boy’s naked glory and you only feel yourself getting hotter at the sight. Oh how badly you want to roam your hands over his defined abs and kiss each pack of his. Your gaze drifts down to his dick right in front of your face. He’s thick and veiny and you start to wonder if you would be able to feel every unevenness of his dick with your walls.

San seems to grow impatient and whimpers lightly to gain your attention. You make up for the waiting by starting a full blow to his cock earning a cry from the boy.

„So pretty. My little princess looks so hot with her lips around my dick. Oh fuck. Yes!“

You feel a pool of wetness building under your slit at his praising words and grab a hold of his tensed buttocks to push him further into you.

„Shit, princess!“

San growls at every blow you give him and closes his eyes when you hit the back of your wet cavern. Same time Hong Joong gets rid of his clothes and makes himself comfortable on the bed watching your ass from behind swaying up and down in the process of pleasuring the other gangster.

As San engulfs into the feeling of his cock hitting your throat he holds your head in place and starts to deepthroat you. You immediately gag at the deep intrusion and try to stop the man by pushing him back by his abdomen. You only whimper out before San recognizes your discomfort and instantly pulls out. He quickly checks your face.

„Shit, I am sorry princess. I got carried away.“

„No, please don’t be. I am just not good in deepthroating... But I will practice!“ Both boys have to laugh at your cuteness and San clears your drool with his thumb.

„Baby, you don’t have to practice anything. You have to promise us to always be honest if you feel uncomfortable. Is that clear?“

Hong Joong pets your back while showing you a comforting smile.

„Ok, I promise. But what if I don’t want you to stop?“ Both men are shocked by your statement.

„Then, maybe we should think about a safe word?“

„That’s a good idea! What about... wonderland?“

„Oh, wonderland? Why tho?“

„Because it’s the place where we met for the first time.“ After thinking about it for a moment the two boys nodded at you.

„Then it’s wonderland!“ San clapped into his hands and decided to continue by engulfing you into a kiss again. Meanwhile Hong Joong finds the item in the pocket of his trousers that are laying on the ground next to the bed. San turns you around and positions you in front of Hong Joong on all fours.

Hong Joong’s penis was not as bag as San’s one but beautiful nevertheless. San doesn’t give you much time and pushes your head down on to his friend‘s dick and gets back behind you.

Hong Joong lightly pulls at your hair while his eyes roll back at you in front of him. How could such a pure being have a sinful body and lips like this?

„P-princess. This isn’t your first time you’re doing this. Am I right?“

You stop blowing him and look into his dilated eyes.

„What do you think?“

You continue to take him in as deep as it fits causing the gangster to throw his head back into the cushions.

You feel San behind you kissing your butt stroking it from time to time to encourage you. Suddenly Hong Joong stops you and hands San the object he was hiding under a cushion.

„Huh?“

„Princess, are we allowed to pleasure you through every pretty hole of yours?“

As soon as you understood what he meant San already had his tongue on your other entrance igniting a deep moan out of you. You feel your legs giving out when he starts to lick his way from your cunt to your asshole.

„I-I will try! Fuck!“

Hong Joong sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and starts to swirl your tongues. Moans and wet noises fill the room and you don’t know if you could ever be pleasured better again by another man.

As soon as San feels your entrance slowly becoming soft and squashy he tries to insert one finger into the hole. As he emerges in your virgin part you can only growl into Hong Joong‘s mouth who isn’t letting go of you.

San starts to pump his finger in and out of you so you can adjust to the new sensation. After some time he pushes in another finger and you mewl out at the stretching feeling. Suddenly his fingers are pulled out and your entrance is met with something cold and synthetic.

You make a move to look behind what he is planning to do but Hong Joong still holds you in place kissing you more ravishingly than before. And your cry out when San pushes a pink buttplug into your back hole.

„Fuck! Feels .. soo ... goooddmnfnf!“

Hong Joong smirks into your mouth and your cries and whimpers shake his whole body and stop at his erection that is urging him to stroke himself at the feeling.

San continues to fuck you with the toy and stops for a second to spit onto it to make the process easier.

„How does that feel princess? Do you like it? Do you want me to fuck your sweet little hole with my own dick?“

„P-please! Yes!“

San growls at your needy answer and takes out the buttplug. Hong Joong stops kissing you leaving your lips red and bruised because of the long attack.

San lays down on the bed and Hong Joong positions you onto San your back facing the mullet boy‘s face.

„Take your time baby. This dick is much bigger than the buttplug.“

San holds your hips in a helping manner while you steady yourself on Hong Joong‘s shoulders. Painfully slow you guide yourself down onto San‘s standing erection the boy positioning his dick so he can enter you easier.

And god does it feel amazing. Your moth forms into a silent cry while you take him in fully. Hong Joong watches the scene with amazement and San curses out incoherent words at the tightness of your butthole.

„Fucking shit!“

The first pushes feel awkward although San and Hong Joong pull you up and down onto the cock very slow. After some adjusting you feel the amazing sensation of the anal experience and close your eyes to get lost in the moment. You start to push yourself down onto the boy on your own and decide the rhythm of the trusts to go quicker.

San‘s grip on your hips tighten with each thrust you are pressing down on him. Hong Joong grows impatient at the sight of his partner having all the fun alone and starts to kiss your breasts leaving markings all over the place.

„This is so good! Nghaa...“

San slowls you down and strokes your back to give you the feeling of doing well in this position. Hong Jong shares a look with San and positions his cock in front of your pussy watching your reaction with eager eyes.

„What do you think, princess? Can you take two at the some time?“

Holy shit.

„Yes! Please fill me, too, Hong Joong!“

„That’s our good little princess.“

San and Hong Joong definitely not knew you would be so obedient and into a threesome and double penetration so having you practically pleading for it shoots goosebumps over their own skin. They made the right decision in choosing you this evening.

But only after this night they could decide if they would let you live or kill you off.

Hong Joong sinks to his knees over San‘s legs and puts his cock in front of your entrance and teases the wet area with his pulsing shaft.

His eyes darken at the sight and you feel your breath getting caught in your system when he enters you painfully slow stretching out your pussy. You never felt this beautifully full before and notice San‘s and Hong Joong‘s grunts, too, when they pass eachother in your pelvis only a thin wall between the two itching dicks.

San‘s little movement under you suddenly lets you experience a rush of another accidental orgasm making the boys aware of your sensity to the situation.

You just lay limp on San‘s sweaty body after calming down everyone trying to not move a single muscle. After a few seconds Hong Joong presses his head against yours whispering encouraging words to you.

„Baby, you can do it. Just another one.“

„Mhh.“

Sloppy sounds are heard when the boys start to grind into your holes leaving you a crying mess between their bodies. As soon as they set a rhythmic pace Hong Joong digs his fingers under your knees and holds them up to deepen the contact between you and him.

You love the feeling of being fucked by the two man at the same time and grab Hong Joong‘s neck to steady yourself a little bit while their pace only quickens more. You blood is buzzing when their rhythm grows unsteady and you feel yourself becoming hotter each second.

„I-I think I am going to cum soon. San?“

„Yeah, same!“

Hong Joong presses his thumb onto your clit and starts to roughly rut his hips into your body leaving you and San in shock under him. He circles your clit aggressively and your head falls over San‘s shoulder who leans up onto his forearms.

„Fucking shit you little bitch you’re going to take all of us!“

Hong Joong‘s eyes darken and he grabs a tight hold onto one of your tits while fucking you into oblivion. You shudder at his sinful words and feel your orgasm approaching because of it.

Your vision fades to black when the third times this night waves of pleasure rush through you. The boys equally tense and with low grunts and one final push they insert their thick cum into your holes mixing it with your own.

Only strong breathing sounds are heard in the room and the trio of you are laying on the bed nuzzling into eachother. You are so worn out that you instantly fall asleep while a cozy smile adorns your face.

San and Hong Joong carefully pull out of your entrances and lay down beside you. The brown haired boy spoons you from behind and Hong Joong covers your forms with a blanket. Before closing their eyes San shoots Hong Joong an enquiring look to which the mafia leader only devilishly smiles and hums.

Seems like you passed the test.

„Sleep tight, our little princess.“

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[markschanel]

harana - m. lee

now playing: harana by parokya ni edgar 

characters: mark lee x reader, cameo appearances by johnny, jaehyun, doyoung & taeil 

word count: 1.6k

summary: best friends to lovers au! mark’s been singing and performing for what seems like all his life. Yet when it comes to you- he’s a nervous, overthinking mess just wanting to serenade you and show you his love as you watch from your balcony. 

Is serenading still in style?

You are probably wondering

Who is this foolish guy?

Stumbling to sing

With nervous hoarse voice

The darkness of your room and your exhaustion from your day keeps your eyes fluttered shut as you fall deeper into the embrace of your slumber. Your head rests on your feathered pillow as your hair cascades along your silk pillowcase, ready for the reward after a long day. 

That is, until you hear the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar outside of your five-storied apartment, cursing at yourself for leaving the windows wide open. Although you know it’s summer and the piercing heat hitting your skin and sweat forming leaves you no other choice. 

You skip off your bed with a rough thud, causing you to groan in slight pain for hitting your toes against the sharp corner of your bed. Scratching your head as you walk towards the edge of your balcony, you don’t care how it’s only eight pm and you’re ready to launch into the next day, but the sight of what you see is what you don’t expect. 

Looking down by the gates of your apartment complex, you blink repeatedly as you see a dressed up Mark Lee in newly pressed cream white dress shirt and polished leather shoes, with his acoustic guitar strung across his torso held up by his worn out merlot guitar strap. 

“Look - Mark oppa is serenading you!” Your roommates, clad in their sweatpants and pajamas ready for bed much like you, come barging in your room unceremoniously but you’re so stunned you don’t seem to notice. Even their obnoxious giggles and snorts don’t phase you either. 

With his nimble fingers, he continues his gentle strumming, making sure to keep up a constant pace and clearly playing each note so that you can hear how fast his heart beats for you. 

You’ve hear Mark sing and play guitar for you so many times before, from hanging out with him at the company practice rooms or whenever you’d crash his dorm - but you can tell his nerves as present and how shaky his voice and fingers can get no matter how long he’s been performing professionally at the industry. 

But you don’t care- it’s the effort that counts and that’s the Mark Lee you’ve always adored, the one you’ve always cared for, the one you’ve always had a special spot in your heart for. The one your heart always beat for, but you never owned up to admit it, to him nor yourself even. 

  Carrying roses but wearing

Old faded jeans

Friends are there too

In formal style, singing worse than minus one and sing-along

The worn out jeans that've been put through the wash too many times is so familiar to you that it feels like home. You can’t help but watch in a trance as you grip tightly on the railings of your balcony at how he’s clearly made an effort to dress up extra fancy, with his hair gelled too, but it’s still him at the very core. 

At the very essence. He hasn’t changed anything about him, even as he’s trying to impress you. If only he knew that you accepted every facet of him with acceptance, from the flaws and imperfections he’s always working to improve on, to the intricate habits and multilayered facets of him that you couldn’t imagine living without. 

You stifle a laugh as you figure out the shadowed figures next to him, failing to properly hide under the oak tree outside your dorm gates. It’s hard to miss the colossal tall Johnny Suh holding up the boombox speakers that were hurriedly plugged into the microphone that Moon Taeil in his bright orange sweater that was holding up to Mark’s face. 

Nor can you ignore the cheekily smiling Jaehyun with his dimples flashed out as he holds up the bouquet of freshly picked red roses in his arms, that you’re sure Mark picked out for you by examining each single rose until he found one that he determined was up to your standards and what you deserved. 

Doyoung might’ve been the best at hiding in his all black get up, but the obsidian hued poster paper he held up that was scattered with neon stickers and bright glittered letters spelling out “Y/N, WOULD YOU GO ON A DATE WITH ME? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!” in all caps is hard to miss. 

The acoustics set up for their miniature performance for you is nothing professional or worth raving about, but its the sincerity behind Mark’s bright, innocent eyes peering onto you and the familiar, comforting warmth behind his sweet yet husky voice that makes it more than enough for you. 

You just hope the neighbours won’t mind this impromptu concert along your street when it’s almost time for dinner, and most of the crowds living in the apartment complex you’re in are either new families with young toddlers who should be put to bed now, or grumpy retirees ready for bed. 

The sky is full of stars

And the air is cold

In your stares, I am going crazy, dear

And in this song

I hope you will love it

I will give all my heart

In a little serenade for you

You’re so impressed and drawn under that spell that you’ve nearly missed the chill down your back, as you’re in a thinly strapped tank top that was getting too thin for the night wind brushing down your spine. 

Crossing your arms as you rub your palms up and down your shoulders, prickly goosebumps on your skin,  you’re drawn to his voice and mellow strums to Ed Sheeran’s Tenerife Sea like caught in a siren’s spell, willing to drown in his arms, in his embrace, in his voice, in his love. 

Mark can’t believe he’s gotten over any of his past hesitations and got himself and his friends with him to serenade you in what appears to be an ancient tradition long forgotten in the past. He doesn’t know how he managed to bribe Jaehyun to switch in cleaning duties, or pay for Doyoung’s next few coffees to be involved in his little skit. 

You’re so special to him he’s taking risks he’s never before, because he believes you deserve the world and he’ll give it to you in any way possible. In his world, you’re a precipice that’s carved and drawn into his maps that the entire thing could be wiped out but you’d still be there, your mark permanently etched onto his heart. 

 Isn't it like the movies

A romantic film

Aren't you the leading lady and I am your leading man

In a story that ends in a never ending love

The butterflies in your stomach flutter as you realize he’s never forgotten your past rants at how you were never one for extravagant gestures, with expensive jewellery or elegant, lavish dates at overpriced restaurants, but realized deep under that- you still had that need of being cherished, of being exalted and celebrated for who you are and be treated like the divine goddess he saw you as. 

He would pluck out all of the stars from the expanse of the vast night sky just to see you smile, just to support you and be there with you through the rough times, through the sweet times, through all the hurts and pains you’ve experienced together before as friends, and now hopefully as something more than that. 

If only you noticed how you’d be so engrossed at your repetitive rounds of rewatches of Crazy Rich Asians with him at the beat up couch of his dorm, but he couldn’t help but keep glancing at you if he could give you the same fireworks in your heart like Nick Young gives Rachel Chu. 

How he lingers a couple extra seconds whenever you come greet him with a hug, how he always remembers to pick up your favourite bubble tea favours whenever you’re coming to visit, how he reads poems for inspiration for his song lyrics - but you’re the first person that comes to mind, and he always blushes furiously, fiercely, like the love has for you is beyond his comprehension, beyond his understanding- but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As he finishes his song, the silence that breaks out in the street is so loud, that it’s as if you can hear your heart beating so loud it’s echoing against your eardrums, that time has stopped and it’s only him that you can think about and focus on. 

Mark Lee isn’t just the upward climax in romance movies when the two lovers confess, isn’t just kissing passionately in the pouring rain, nor running after each other following a heated confrontation. 

Mark Lee sometimes is him remembering how many creams and sugars to put in your coffee order, he’s handwritten love letters hidden in the pockets of your purse, it’s the memories coming back immediately at your polaroid where you kiss his cheek hidden in his wallet, and the handmade baby lion keychain you’ve crocheted for him that he adores so much he won’t go anywhere without it. 

          “From the bottom of my heart, Y/N you are such a precious person to me that I adore you and care for you so much. I want to be the light in your day and be with you even through the toughest of times and the sweetest of seasons.”

 “I want to hold your hand and keep you company through the storms, through the sunsets. I love you so much that words cannot explain it and I hope you can feel it from my songs, from my gestures- even If I know my speech can’t contain it enough-” 

“I love you too, Mark Lee!” You interrupt his verbose yet impassioned speech from your balcony, rushing past your doors and outside your apartment to meet him downstairs. 

Johnny, Doyoung, Taeil and Jaehyun’s rambunctious cheering and screaming in excitement at the success of Mark’s confession embarrasses Mark more than he could ever imagine, his arm tucked behind his neck as his face and ears turn as red as his favourite watermelons. 

                                                                   …

A/N: I was listening to this song, and was just so inspired by how romantic this ancient Filipino tradition of harana is! I could totally see Mark doing this, and no matter how awkward/forced it could seem, Mark is just so sweet and endearing enough that he’d pull this off so well. 

If you’re wondering what it is, Harana is this Filpino tradition in serenading your love interest, hoping to woo them as a potential suitor. The suitor sings by the person they’re courting’s window, until they’re either accepted or rejected. 

It’s possible that they’re accompanied by other instruments and other companions as well, for moral or acoustic support lol, and the one courted usually invites the suitor inside afterwards, and the suitor leaves a gift for the person and their family. 

Hope you guys enjoy this! Sorry I disappeared for a few days I kinda got busy and my sleep schedule kinda going whack didn’t help but it’s here! I’m so proud of it. <3