#i can barely do the dishes at my own fucking house bc the cabinets are too high its so embarassing

[aropride]

might work as a dishwasher if the position is still open in a couple days . which is funny because dishwashing is my least favourite chore by far and it makes me want to fucking Well i shant say . but its better than nothing at least i wouldnt be bored in my room alone. and id get free lunch. BUt i would have to email and say hi is this position suitable for someone whos like, near-comically short but not in a way protected by the ADA and such

[slashersins]

since it’s michael’s birthday today, how bout some birthday sex 😏

ya know what . okay . you’ll get your wish , but you’ll pay the price for it . michael is 63 today , so 63 year old michael is the michael who’s about to get his bones jumped . ( also i don’t like the fact that old man myers is balding bc he looks like loomis and that is not fun , so he’s just gonna have short messy grey hair , okay ? okay . he can keep the little scruffy beard though . ) now let’s get down and filthy with an old man . ( that sounded gross ,  but i am keeping it . )

since it’s michael’s birthday today, how bout some birthday sex 😏

the smell of cake is what woke him . the sound of light clatter filling silence of the house . the clock by the bed read four am . it was early . especially for you . he could just go back to sleep , wait until the sun peaked through the windows for him to fully wake , but the sweet scent of chocolate and sugar only grew the longer he stayed motionless staring at the door . even in his old age , michael could not resist the scent of baked goods . his sweet tooth screaming at him the same way his blood lust did . 

he didn’t bother with his mask . right now it wasn’t important . what was happening in the oven was . it didn’t take him long to make it to the kitchen , watching with mild interest , wanting to know what you’d made . wanting to know why . you’d tell him , you wouldn’t have a choice . but for now , the man stood there . silent and observant as you bustled around the kitchen , making a mess of flour and eggs and sugar . he could compare your messiness in the kitchen to his own when he had a more than excitable kill . 

it seemed you’d noticed the warpath left behind , the confectionery destruction . and you started to clean up . michael stayed still , like a statue . hidden in plain sight , unseen by you and yet so close . after the few years you’d spent together , your awareness of your surroundings didn’t seem to improve . was both an annoyance and amusement for the man . but right now was one of the times he was annoyed . especially when you took the mixing bowl and spoon , coated in thick batter , and carried it to the sink . 

not a moment later michael was behind you , one hand wrapped deadly tight around the wrist holding the bowl , the other plucking the spoon up an out of it to bring it to his lips . all done while pressed against you , leaning over you , trapping you between him and the sink . his intention was to devour the sweet prebaked batter . 

he ignored your squeak of shock at his appearance , too busy with the task at hand . but he did hear your laughter . the way you shook your head and called him a greedy old man . he didn’t care at the moment . the only thing that mattered was this cake batter finding a new home in his stomach . he only paused in his mission when he felt your lips against the stubble on his jaw . 

“ happy birthday , michael . ” ah . so that is what it was . he’d stopped keeping track years and years ago . it never really mattered much to him anyway . but part of his old , cold heart seemed to warm from your little offering of sweets made just for him . 

“ i’ll make all your favorites today . you’re my grumpy old boogeyman , and you deserve it . ” michael wanted to roll his eyes , but it’d be too much effort . so he settled for dropping the now lick cleaned spoon into the sink , taking the bowl from your hand and starting to scrap up what he could with thick fingers . his full focus seemed to be on ‘ cleaning ’ the bowl as he stood a bit away now , cradling it to his chest for better access . 

you flushed as you watched him . ever serious in concentration . devouring and sucking and licking on his fingers . you had to look away , to embarrassed by your own thoughts to do anything more than the dishes . michael seemed to notice . his gaze tearing a hole straight into your core . he knew . eating like this , all fingers and mouth and tongue , it did something too you . something just as delicious as a well baked cake . and he loved letting you hang there and suffer in silence . with a pop of his finger out of his mouth and a near , finger scrubbed , clean bowl , michael dropped the bowl into the sink , waitng for you to glance up and catch his eye . 

what you saw there was unmistakable . a hunger . a deep gnawing hunger . not for blood . not for the sweet treat currently baking in the over . it was something more dangerous . it was a hunger directed at you . a hunger michael came to know as lust . something that gave him the same sensation that gliding knife into the chest of some screaming victim gave him . so similar and yet so different . both ending with such satisfaction . and seeing how you had reacted to just the simplest of actions of him being close , he knew you felt it too . 

you nearly buckle under his stare . the intensity of it . you’re not sure what michael wants . if he’ll leave you hanging like this , or go through with some needy desire . it’s always a mystery with michael . and god if that mystery doesn’t keep you wrapped up in suspense . it’s hard to maintain eye contact , each time you look back at the older man he seems to be staring harder . you can’t take it , and bite your lip , looking anywhere but his eyes . 

“ you - you have some uh , some batter on your cheek . here , i’ll - ” it’s a bold move , but it also helps you understand what michael’s attentions are . if he lets you touch him , then he might be in the mood to do more . if he grabs you or pulls away , you might have crossed a line and that never ends well . surprisingly , michael only tilts his head downward so you can better reach . eyes boring holes into your soul as you gently wipe the brownie mix away with your thumb . 

you make another surprised yelp when his strong fingers grip your wrist , refusing to let go and unmovable . you open your mouth to apologize only for it to die on your lips when the older man pops your thumb into his mouth and licks the mix off .

he doesn’t release your hand , instead choosing to keep it in place between the two of you as he walks you back towards the sink . there is still plenty of thick , sticky brownie mix in the bowl , and michael has just discovered it tastes better when it’s mixed the salt of your skin . 

you have little choice , not that you were ever good at resisting michael , as he takes a knife and cuts through your shirt , ruining the fabric before stabbing the knife harshly into the cabinet by your head . his free fingers move to scoop the sweet mix from the bowl , painting your neck and collarbones with it . you want to squirm and snap and tell him to stop . it’s sticky and gross and now you need a shower , but then his mouth is on you . the roughness of his beard tickling your skin . 

the mouths at you . licking and spreading the mess around before sucking harshly , hard enough to leave marks as his teeth dig into you , making sure to clean you . you can’t stop the moan that leaves you , the way your legs start to shake and thighs rub together . your free hand fists into his shirt , holding onto him as you pant at the roughness of it all . 

“ mi - michael ! s - stop , we - we - i know it’s your birthday but maybe - ” there’s no arguing with him as michael forces a knee between his thighs . he may be older , but he wants , and it’s obvious how much he wants when he rocks his hips so hard into you that you make a pained noise when the counter cuts into your hip at the force of it . the feeling of him , hard and hot through his thin pajama bottoms making you whine . “ okay . okay . i’ll - yes . michael , just - ”

there’s no waiting when he swiftly turns you around , the fact he is still so strong after so many years making your head spin in a delightful way . the knife is pulled from the cabinet , leaving a splintered gash in the wood .  you feel the cold metal of the blade against your thigh . slowly and practiced as he pushes it under your shorts and then tugs , cutting through fabric and leaving you bare before him . the knife if returned to it’s previous place , michael pressing in to rub his thigh against your bare sex . 

you can’t help but moan , leaning forward as you wrap your arms around michael’s neck , fingers buried in his short grey hair . you haven’t gotten permission to move , but your hips rock on their own . and it seems that michael is fine with it , staying still and forcing you to do all the work , making you work yourself up into a needy mewling mess on his thigh .

but michael is needy , and starved , and enough is enough . he wants you . and you were right . it is his birthday . so why not take what he wants . you already said he deserves it , didn’t you ? 

fingers still wet with saliva and sticky , michael pressed against your entrance . you panted and squirmed in his hold , you wanted him to press inside , to stretch you open before ramming himself inside of you , but he wouldn’t move . he only gave you a blank look . he wanted you to fuck yourself on those his fingers . he wanted you to show him just how eager you were to please him . and god , if that didn’t make you moan as you rocked your hips , trying to sink down and take what you could .

it’s hard to keep rocking , and michael keeps so still , only his even breathing keeping you company as he watched you come undone . it’s your plea , michael’s name falling from your lips so sweetly , so needy , that has the older man pulling away only to get out his length and line his tip up . he doesn’t wait , as soon as he brushes against you he’s shoving in . fast and harsh , only to stop and savor the way your walls spasm at the sudden intrusion . at how your eyes scrunch up and your mouth opens into a silent scream . 

he stays still inside of you , and you think this might have been the nicest michael has ever been as you adjust to him . but that thought flies out the window when he pulls nearly all the way out only to swiftly thrust back in . there’s no holding back . it’s his birthday after all . and he wants to ruin you . he wants to thank you for the treat currently baking in the oven , this is the only way he can truly show you . 

his hands grip your hips harshly , nails digging into the soft flesh there . his mouth goes back to attacking your neck and shoulder , leaving near bloody marks in their wake . he’s panting , gritting his teeth to keep back the growls that threaten to spill out . the way you squeeze around him , the sobbed out moans that leave your lips and fill the air , the way you cling and whimper michael’s name like he was some deity you were praying to - all of it had him fucking you harder , faster .

you don’t last long . the stretch of michael and his break neck pace has you pushed over the edge faster than you’d hoped , but that predatory gaze in his eyes was just too much when mixed with his animalistic rutting . you can only cling to him , vision foggy and eyes watering as he keeps using you like a glorified cock sleeve . and finally , after michael has pushed you into a second overstimulated orgasm , he cums . 

he hovers over you , his chest heaving shoulder’s tense as he looks down at you . soon his hands leave your hips and he backs away , only to look at the oven and then back at you . you’re not sure what he is trying to tell you , too busy trying to stand up on legs made of jelly and a sweet soreness between your thighs . but then the timer goes off . 

you want to laugh , but doing so might upset michael , or worse might make you fall on the floor and laugh more , and you don’t want to burn your boogeyman’s cake . somehow you wobble over , taking the cake out and setting it on the table . you know michael doesn’t give a shit about frosting , and he doesn’t have the patience to let the treat cool . but you do have time to stick the birthday candles on .

you steal a kiss , going to sit in a chair when michael pulls you into your lap as you pass by . you smile at him , leaning in a kissing his bearded cheek when he takes his first bite . “ happy 63rd birthday , mr boogeyman . ”

[defenselesswriter]

Hey! Just read your Baker!Derek fic and... IT'S AMAZING! PLEASE, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE could you give us more? I'm dying of curiosity with what will happen and I just loved Derek's interaction with the sheriff, haha. Anyway, thanks for writing bc it's already awesome!

since i actually got a few requests to finish it here's a part two. you can find part 1 here and part 3 here

That night, out of nowhere, Derek decided to cook homemade lasagna. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to make his own noodles because things at the bakery took longer than he wanted, but store bought is fine. He finds it comforting to go through the methods of cooking this dish. Stirring together the ricotta and mozzarella. Making homemade sauce and chopping up garlic to go into it. Then he focuses on lining the pan with noodles and then layering the ingredients together. It really quiets his mind and prevents him from freaking about Stiles.

Of course, as soon as it’s in the oven and Derek is done cleaning up, all he has is time to freak the fuck out. He is kind of pretty sure he has a thing for Stiles, and Stiles might have a thing for him, which is even scarier. But it’s too soon to tell, Derek is sure of it. And really, they just barely met, so why is he freaking out?

Probably because it’s been so long since he has ever dated. He hasn’t had time lately, so it’s kind of been on the back burner, but now Stiles is right there and well…he doesn’t want to say no to this.

There’s a knock on the back door, so Derek goes to answer it with a, “You know you can use the front door, right?”

“This just seems like our thing,” Stiles says with a shrug, and for the first time, Stiles is wearing jeans a v-neck at Derek’s house. It’s not a swimsuit. Why isn’t he wearing a swimsuit?

“Uh, come in, I guess?” Derek says, taking a step back and letting Stiles into his house.

“I didn’t say this last time I was here, but you have a nice house,” Stiles comments, looking around the kitchen. “A really big, open kitchen. My mom would’ve loved it. She loved baking too.”

Derek smiles softly at that.

“What do I smell?” Stiles asks, sniffing again.

“Garlic?” Derek suggests.

“Definitely.” Stiles nods. “And something else. Tomatoes, like a red sauce.” Then he looks at the oven and sees it’s on. “Lasagna?”

“Yup,” Derek answers. “And you’re more than welcome to have some. There’s more than plenty. You can even take some home to your dad.”

“I’m sure he’d love that,” Stiles mumbles. “Did you use real sausage?”

“Chicken sausage actually,” Derek tells him.

Stiles lights up. “Then maybe I can bring some home to him.”

“You didn’t wear your swimsuit,” Derek can’t help but point out.

Stiles looks down as if he expected to be wearing something else or like he didn’t know what he was wearing. “Yeah, I figured maybe tonight we could just hangout or something. If you’re cool with that.”

Derek really, really hopes the sheer panic he feels isn’t clear on his face, but the way Stiles starts to retreat into himself and look sad makes it seem like maybe it is. Derek is quick to say, “I’m cool with it.”

Again, Stiles lights up with a smile and looks like Derek just made his day.

They’re quiet for a few moments before Stiles brings up the brownies. “They were really good. What did you put in them?”

“I tried putting fudge in them,” Derek explains, leaning against the counter. “I haven’t experimented much with my brownies, and I suddenly got inspired to. I want to try making mint brownies.”

“Well, if you need a taste tester, my mouth is yours,” Stiles tells him and then his eyes widen in panic. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. That came out totally wrong, and it was inappropriate. I’m so sorry.”

Derek laughs and runs a hand through his hair, feeling lighter than he has in a while. “It’s okay. I get what you meant. I appreciate the sentiment.”

Stiles smiles softly at that, looking almost like he is suddenly shy around Derek, which is weird. The man broke into Derek’s yard while he was away and used his pool. That doesn’t strike Derek as the characteristics of a shy person, but maybe there’s more to Stiles than meets the eye.

“Do you want a drink or something?” Derek asks, remembering that he is a host and should be polite.

“I wouldn’t mind water,” Stiles answers.

Derek pushes himself off the counter and grabs a glass to fill it up with water.

“You don’t have to get it for me,” Stiles comments. “I feel like I’m a little passed the guest stage.”

“I don’t think you were ever in that stage,” Derek laughs, looking over at him. That’s when Derek is struck with how beautiful Stiles is. His face is just…Derek doesn’t have words. The way his eyes shine in the kitchen lights, though. That’s…incredible. They almost look like honey, and Derek wants to maybe stare at them forever.

Stiles looks a little awestruck as well like he is just seeing Derek for the first time. “What color are your eyes?” he asks with a laugh.

“Hazel,” Derek answers automatically before realizing he’s spilling water all over his hand because the cup is full. He immediately takes the cup back and pours a touch of water down the sink so it isn’t spilling over anymore. “Here’s your water.”

Stiles reaches and grabs it, their fingers brushing as he does. “Thanks, dude.”

“So why did you leave so suddenly last night?” Derek asks.

It takes a moment for Stiles to answer because his head is tipped back as he drinks the water, and Derek gets to admire how long it is and how his Adam’s apple moves as he swallows. Stiles finally puts the water on the counter and runs a hand through his hair, not looking at Derek. “Uh, I just remembered I had a thing to do.”

“A thing?” Derek asks, trying to get more information.

Stiles shrugs. “A thing with my best friend. We’re currently working on planning his wedding, which isn’t saying much because his fiancee and her best friend are mostly calling the shots, but we’re helping where we can, you know?”

Derek nods. “I helped my sister plan her wedding, but honestly, I didn’t do much. She was pretty set on what she wanted, and she’s headstrong and very determined to do things herself.”

“She sounds awesome,” Stiles laughs, taking a sip of his water.

“She is,” Derek agrees, knowing he has a fond smile on his face. He really does love his family. “She usually is my taste tester, but…”

“But what?” Stiles asks, picking up on Derek’s hesitance.

Derek shrugs. “I wanted a new perspective on stuff as I’m trying new things. Plus, she’s my sister. She has to support me.”

Stiles laughs and sets down his water. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child. How many siblings do you have? What’s it like?” He puts his hands on the counter and then jumps up so he’s sitting atop it, letting his legs dangle.

“Don’t scuff my cabinets,” Derek quickly says before Stiles can do anything. “And I have two sisters, one older and one younger. It’s like having someone in your life that you can switch from hating them to loving them within seconds, but also there’s no question that you always love them, you know?”

Stiles nods, looking serious for once. “I have that with my best friend. He’s as close to a brother as I have.”

“What’s his name?” Derek asks.

“Scott,” Stiles answers, smiling fondly. “We’ve been best friends since we were in preschool. We’ve been through so much together. I could never imagine my life without him.”

The conversation strikes something in Derek. Something about seeing Stiles’ deeper emotional side really appeals to him, makes him even more intrigued about Stiles. “I feel the same way about my sisters,” Derek finally says.

The oven timer starts beeping, signaling that the lasagna is done, so Derek quickly goes to pull it out.

“Sweet, it’s done!” Stiles exclaims, jumping off the counter to come up behind Derek to look at it. “Looks picture perfect honestly. Baker and a cook. What a catch. How are you still single?” Stiles backs up at that, so Derek looks behind at him. “If you are single. I don’t know that you’re not, and that’s quite the assumption to make wow.”

“I’m single,” Derek laughs. “And the lasagna needs to cool before I can cut it.”

“What’s with you and cooling things down?” Stiles sighs, looking grumpy, but there’s a smile that he’s trying to hide.

“If you cut it too early then it cracks,” Derek argues. “And it’s just what my dad always did, so I just follow his methods.”

Stiles laughs, throwing his head back. “That’s so adorable that you just follow what your dad tells you.”

“Says the person who wants to be just like his dad when he grows up,” Derek points out.

Stiles stops laughing, but still has a smile on his face, and he looks like he is genuinely enjoying this conversation with Derek. Derek doesn’t see that look on people’s faces very often. “Touche,” Stiles concedes. “So I’ll be patient.”

“Doesn’t seem like that’s a common occurrence for you,” Derek comments.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, but I’ll be patient for you.”

Derek tries to not let that comment get to his head, but it does. In fact, it stays with him all through the night and well into the next day.

“Erica,” Derek almost whines, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t whine. “What does it mean?”

“What does what mean?” she asks, filing her nails as she leans against the counter in the back. She’s supposed to be helping stock the shelves with the goods Derek baked. He isn’t concerned, though, because she will do it before they open, and she arranges them so perfectly, so he doesn’t argue.

“What does it mean that he’ll be patient for me?” he asks her, already having given her a rundown of what’s been going on between Stiles and him.  

“I don’t know,” she says dryly. “Sounds like he’s got the hots for you.”

“What do I do about that?” Derek is a little out of practice. He probably hasn’t dated since college, and admittedly, it’s been a few years since then.

She shrugs and looks up at him, pulling her hair up into a ponytail that signals she’s about to get to work. “Ask him out,” she answers.

“It’s not that simple,” Derek argues.

“It’s not?” she asks, unconvinced.

He shakes his head. “He’s the sheriff’s son.”

“Wait, your neighbor is Stiles?” Erica asks, her face lighting up as she laughs. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You have the hots for Stilinski.”

Derek looks around, knowing no one is around, but he has to double check because no one can know he has the hots for Stiles. No one. “Not so loud,” he whispers.

She rolls her eyes. “No, this is way too funny. I used to have a crush on him in high school. Before I found Boyd.”

“Really?” Derek asks. “Is there a reason you stopped having a crush on him?”

She shrugged. “He didn’t ever notice me, then I met Boyd, and the rest is history.” She looks Derek in the eye seriously for a moment before speaking. “He’s a good guy, Derek, and he wears his emotions on his face. Be careful with him. For what it’s worth, I think he’d be good for you.” She pats his shoulder before she walks out to prep the display case.

Derek takes a deep breath to settle himself and think about everything. Yes, he’s into Stiles. Yes, Stiles is probably into him, but is he ready to further this?

For the first time in what seems like a week, Stiles doesn’t come that night. At all. Not even late at night to swim. Derek doesn’t want to admit that he misses him, but….well, Derek misses Stiles. Just a little bit.

The next day, Derek actually gets to sleep in since Boyd is handling the baking today. It’s such a nice feeling being able to sleep in. He misses it. In fact, he has the day off. He does have to stop by the bakery to make sure everything’s running smoothly, but other than that, he can relax today. No meetings, no phone calls to make. He wakes up when he wants to without an alarm and then goes for a run.

When he gets back from his run, there’s someone at his front door. Derek can easily tell it’s Stiles who is knocking on his door. “Derek?” he calls out. “Come on, I know you’re in there. Your car is outside.”

“I’m not in there,” Derek says, making Stiles jump.

Stiles turns around, holding a hand to his chest. “Jesus, you scared me.”

“I scared you. I don’t think Jesus did.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and then his eyes do a once over of Derek. “Did you go jogging?”

“Yes?” Derek says, confused because Stiles’ tone sounded accusatory.

“I swear to God,” Stiles mumbles angrily looking away. “Whatever. I’m here to give you my phone number.”

“Your phone number?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “My phone number. You know, so I can let you know if I’m coming over or not coming over.”

“Sounds good,” Derek is quick to say. He wouldn’t mind having Stiles’ phone number. Just in case.

They switch phones and enter each other’s number in the phone and then hand them back.

“Where were you last night?” Derek asks, trying to be subtle about his concern.

Stiles smirks. “You saying you missed me, big guy?”

“No,” Derek tells him firmly. “I was just wondering. Curious, you know.”

Stiles nods, but is smiling like he knows the truth. Whatever the truth is. “Sure. I went out with Scott and his fiancee. All last minute.”

“Did you have fun?” Derek asks.

“I did.” Stiles smiles and shakes his head. “So we still on for tonight?”

“Sure,” Derek agrees.

“What are you making?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. “I was thinking of ordering in tonight. Give myself the day off from cooking completely.”

“Are you still okay if I come over? I can skip tonight.” Stiles looks worried that Derek might actually say no. Little does he know…

“Sure!” Derek is quick to answer enthusiastically to ease Stiles’ worry. “Does seven work for you?”

“Seven is perfect,” Stiles tells him with a smile.

“Then it’s a date.” Derek nods solemnly.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and then his eyes widen comically. “Wait. A d-date? Like an actual date or are you just using the expression?”

Derek takes a moment to think about it. “Uh, let’s make it an actual date. See where everything goes?”

“Yeah, yes, perfect,” Stiles says quickly. “Sounds great. See you at seven.”

[4jimin]

well since you so kindly asked for prompts: jikook+12 (bc necessary lol) and yoonseok+7

jikook; "why the heck aren't we making out?" canon compliant | bickering“Hyung, can you take the big pot for me?” Jungkook asked while washing the dishes, a grin playing on his lips along with a crinkling nose. Jimin would think it was cute if he wasn’t wanting to punch it. The little shit had chosen that day specifically to piss his hyung off with jokes about his height. Said big pot he was asking for Jimin to take for him was in the highest shelf of their kitchen's cabinet – Jimin could only reach it using a chair and he was mostly definitely not doing that. Not in a million years, not in front of that brat they called their maknae. “Jeon Jungkook, I swear to god.” Jimin deeply breathed, trying to focus on cutting the vegetables the way Jin had asked before leaving for buying groceries. “I'll deck you in the face if you don’t stop this shit.” Jungkook turned to look at him, giggling and cleaning his wet hands on the apron he was using. Jimin could think it was funny if he – again – wasn't wanting to punch him.“Oh? But can you even reach my neck?” The older hand's stopped, knife midway the cucumber, eyes dragging up to meet the younger's. Jungkook gulped, wondering if he had gone too far, Jimin's gaze a little too intense – enough for a shiver to run down his spine like lightning. He took his apron off, nervously trying to find an empty drawer to put it in. He heard his hyung getting off his seat, the chair scratching the ground in a high pitched sound, Jungkook's shoulders shrinking involuntarily in response, as if it'd stop the sound from hurting his ears. His heart may have stopped when he saw Jimin's hands in front of him, flying to hold on the counter's border by his side, caging Jungkook in between his arms. He felt that familiar warmth by the side of his body – Jimin's loose tshirt brushing against his bare arm. Jungkook sucked as much oxygen as he could into his lungs, before turning his torso to fully face the boy, who instantly pressed their hips together to get Jungkook's lower back hitting the border of the sink. His breath hitched, locked in his closed throat, and his eyes fell closed, Jimin's body pressing him too tightly for his sanity. Jungkook didn’t need to open his eyes to know Jimin's face was inches apart from him, his hot breathing warming Jungkook's dry lips and flushed cheeks. “Wanna find out?” Jimin whispered low and Jungkook was desperate. He knew Jimin could actually reach his neck, but what did he intend to do if Jungkook said yes? Choke him to death?Well, maybe that was a good option, considering Jungkook could pass out at any given moment from a heart attack anyway.“Ahm– I– I'm sorry.”“I asked,” Jimin pressed harder, his nose touching Jungkook’s and his knees failed, Jimin's body being the only thing holding him in place, “if you wanna find out.” His tone was low and dangerous. Jungkook knew he should stutter a rushed 'no' and end all that shit for once, but he couldn’t bring his body to obbey him, mouth remaining shut as he ordered it to deny Jimin's question. Maybe because his heart couldn’t stop thundering loud yes'es against his chest. “Seems cat got your tongue now, huh...” Jimin murmured, and Jungkook was so intoxicated he couldn’t even open his eyes – he knew if he did he'd fall into Jimin's orbs so hardly and so deeply he wouldn’t find a way back after. “Think I'mma have make you speak...”And just like that Jungkook felt Jimin's breath moving from lips to his chin, then down his jawline. He had to hold back on the counter to stop his body from giving in to the gravity's will when Jimin closed his hot mouth on the muscle where the his neck curved into his shoulder, roughly catching the flesh with his teeth just so he could lick it a second later to soothe the bruise. He dragged his plump lips up the younger's skin, stopping right below his jawline to suck sweet and slow. Jungkook was going to go crazy. His breath was a mess, rhythm meaning nothing more than a substantive to his nostrils. He whined, hands tightening its grip on the marble behind him. “Oh?” Jimin pulled back to look at Jungkook – his heart forcing himself to open his eyes. The boy in front of him, darkly staring at his face with lust, lips wet with saliva, shining the reddest red Jungkook had ever remembered seeing. “Maybe cat didn’t didn’t get your tongue at all...” he whispered, and his lips were so close Jungkook felt it briefly brushing against his own. He squeezed his eyes shut, heart beating on his throat, knuckles white holding the counter. “Will you me let hear your voice, Jungkook-ah?” Jungkook shivered. Much for Jimin pronouncing his name that way, but more for his hands invading his tshirt, cold fingers sliding through his hipbones to his waist, pressuring it hard enough for his breath to fail. “H...Hyung...” he breathed, the only word he remembered in that moment.“Mhm?” Jimin asked, but his lips were already back on Jungkook's neck and – Jungkook was losing it. His hands flew to Jimin's waist faster than he could've imagined, firmly holding on the thin curve of his torso for, in a second of overwhelming recklessness, switch their positions, pinning Jimin against the sink and pressuring their bodies closer than before. Jimin gasped against his skin, hot breath hitting his wet neck, and Jungkook groaned, stomach tingling so much with anticipation he wanted to cry. He closed his eyes, drowning in the sensation of Jimin's lips kissing and sucking his skin, until he felt the older's fingers being brought up to slide into his hair, a shudder spreading on his spine thanks to it. Jungkook dragged his hands down Jimin's body, unable to bold back anymore. He grabbed his thighs hard, pulling him up to sit in the counter behind them, Jimin's legs instantly wrapping around his waist, his hard member pressing below Jungkook's bellybutton. He partially cried, partially moaned on Jimin's ears, a little bit louder this time – when he remembered.“Hyung.” He called breathless, halfheartedly holding on Jimin's waist to pull him away. “Hobi-hyung and Yoongi-hyung are home.” Jungkook forced his eyes to stay open, glued on the floor of the hall, scared a shadow would suddenly grow in there before someone appeared in the kitchen.Jimin didn’t give him any attention, stubborn as he was, one hand on Jungkook's hair and another on the back of his shoulder, pushing his tshirt aside so he could kiss the skin in there too. Jungkook was barely breathing, Jimin's soft lips being too fucking much for him to remain in control. “Hyung... they–” “You taste so good, Jungkook-ah.” Jimin cut him off and Jungkook suddenly unlearned all the existing words, mind going blank as Jimin's breath followed up his neck until his hot mouth was pressed against his ear, “So fucking good.” He growled, “You're gonna get me addicted.”Jungkook pulled back to meet his eyes, a question – the only question hovering his mind. “Then why are we not making out yet?”Jimin fisted his hair harder and pulled him closer – eyes darker than ever, before falling closed. He stopped an inch away from Jungkook's mouth, breaths mingling and lips brushing as Jimin whispered, “Because I like to tease.”And it was all it took for Jungkook to lose it. He moved his chin forward, catching Jimin’s lower lip on his mouth and sucking, all oxygen being knocked out of his lungs as the older whimpered and melted under his touch. He held Jimin by the waist, arms wrapped around his back, not a centimeter of air between their bodies. Jungkook swiped his tongue over Jimin's lip inside his hot mouth, feeling too fucking inebriated, Jimin's lips too fucking soft to be real. They parted lips open together, tongues meeting in a dazed thirst for each other. He moaned into Jimin's mouth, his erection feeling too hard for his own good. It was when they heard a door opening, their bodies separating from each other in a heartbeat. Yoongi and Hoseok appeared on the kitchen's doorframe before the boys could even think of recovering – Jimin having jumped to the ground, but still panting breathless in front of the counter, Jungkook sitting in one of the chairs wondering if he was going to faint from a too racing heart.“Hyung and I are going out to eat something, so you two take care. Don’t burn the house down.” They barely made Hoseok's words out, the two hyungs having hurriedly left before the youngers could see their fingers interlaced together. The house was suddenly silent, Jimin staring at him after they heard the front door closing – lips swollen and cheeks flushed. “Bedroom.” His voice failed, breath still trying to settle in his lungs. “Please.” He didn’t have to ask twice.yoonseok; "we're made for each other"canon compliant | just fluff really The sun was shining bright up in the sky, its warm rays washing their skin through the open window and – Yoongi honestly couldn’t care less, Hoseok's smile being such a better source of light for his thundering heart. It was always like this, it would never settle on his chest when Hoseok was close to him. Even almost a year after they've started officially dating. Even after so many kisses and intimate moments shared. Hoseok was a magnet, and Yoongi's heart was another, beating frantically whenever he was around, wanting to break free from from its cage to reach him. “No, but there's some really funny, for real. Listen.” Hoseok managed out, trying to contain his laugh while his eyes kept glued on the screen of his phone. He had found some posts on Pinterest of people rambling about supposed realities where soulmates existed. Yoongi thought it sounded pretty lame, but Hoseok was having fun with it for the past twenty minutes. “So, if the very first words your soulmate ever says to you are tattooed somewhere in your body since the day you were born,” he started reading, “Imagine having something like 'man, I can’t believe dumbledore died' tattooed on you.” he paused to laugh, not being able to contain it throughout the whole story, having made a funny voice to impersonate the tattoo's words. Yoongi allowed his lips to smirk the slightest bit up too, not knowing if the giggle growing on his throat was due to Hoseok's enjoyment or the story itself. Probably the first one. “Imagine being spoiled for a book series that doesn’t even exist yet. Imagine worrying about this dumbledore guy dying for your whole childhood not even knowing who he is.” They laughed together at this part, picturing the scenario. “Imagine knowing dumbledore dies before J.K Rowling even thinks about it.” “Okay, I admit.” Yoongi let out, a smile still playing on his lips, “They're not all lame. This one's lamely funny.”“Hyung!” Hoseok complained, letting his phone fall on the bed and sitting straight to look at Yoongi. “They're cute, you have to admit that!”“They're not cute, it seems like they have been taken out of a cheesy drama or something.” Yoongi judged, knowing Hoseok would pretend offended, his soft spot for cheesy dramas showing. “How can you be so cold-hearted?” he got up, hands on his hips while walking till where Yoongi was seating in front of the computer. “I bet you'd melt if we had–“ he started, but then stopped, a sudden thought hitting him and making his eyes shine. “Hyung!” his smile was brighter than it ever had been. Yoongi knew what was to come.“No.”“Hyuuung...” Hoseok whined, brows furrowed, frustrated by Yoongi's instant denial. “Please, let me search your body... I bet we have at least one soulmate mark!” he was so excited Yoongi almost gave in, but he knew that was a bad idea.“Hoseok, this is stupid, if we don’t have one – which is completely normal, to be very clear – you'll be sulking for the rest of the day.” “I won’t!”He did. Twenty minutes later after finishing a complete research on Yoongi's bare: chest, thighs, legs, arms and neck. “See, you're sulking.” He had to confirm his point, even though it only made the boy's pout grow bigger. Hoseok was sitting on the bed again, arms crossed over his chest, a frown on his face and his lips dangling down in that adorable way it always did whenever he was mad. Yoongi fought with all his force against the urge to coo. “I'm not.” He sounded like a 5 yeard old, voice managing its way out through his pout. “It's stupid, you're right.” “See?” Yoongi pulled his tshirt down – which was still resting above his chest thanks to Hoseok –, and scooted closer, crouching down in front of his boyfriend’s body, a hand going up his neck to caress his hair and comfort him. “I don’t need any mark on my body to know I belong to you for the rest of my life.”Hoseok softened a little, his arms uncrossing along with a hint of a tiny smile playing in the corner of his mouth. Yoongi got up on his knees to kiss it. It was just a peck, but it bloomed Hoseok's smile, the older's heart tugging in his chest with the sight. “I know we were made for each other, I don't need to have a random mark on my body to reassure that.” He pinched the tip of Hoseok's nose, watching him crinkle it afterwards. Too cute. “So don’t do that sad face again. Okay?”“Okay...” the younger murmured, eyes down, cheeks slightly blushing.“I mean, seriously, we're like yin-yang. You're the day and I'm the night.” Hoseok loudly laughed at this, satisfying Yoongi's ears and need of constantly hearing his voice laughing.“Hyung, you're so cheesy.”“I'm serious! Even olives!” The black haired boy exclaimed out of nowhere, providing a confused expression to Hoseok’s features, “They were made for you to love and for me to hate so we can complete each other, you stealing all the olives from my food and being... happy about it. Okay, this part specifically is gross, because who likes olives, but I'm not judging.” He completed, Hoseok's smile getting wider with each word, irradiating warmth everywhere, including into Yoongi's chest. He was so deep down in love it was embarrassing.“Can I be cheesier than you?” Hoseok asked, a hand resting on the nape of Yoongi's neck to pull him closer, getting both their hearts to race in sync. “I think you're my whole universe. I look at you and I know it.” Yoongi might have just melted inside, but no one needed to know that. He held on Hoseok's shoulders, who pulled him up to his lap, not breaking eye contact for a second. “I love you so much I think I can explode sometimes.”Yoongi couldn’t stop looking at his eyes, stunned, lost in thoughts of how he had never felt so happy like that before. “I love you.” It was all he could say. “I love you.” He repeated, before Hoseok closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in the sweetest touch, fitting perfectly on each other's mouth. When their lips simultaneously parted, Hoseok couldn’t tell from whom was the butterflies on his belly – his or Yoongi's. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because in that moment Min Yoongi was his and his alone – and that was the only thing he could think about.