#it was nice to feel such a familiar smell

[precupid]

like a fool ─── (sixteen.)

HEESEUNG DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO FEEL.

He texted you and asked you to come to his room, but he hasn’t gotten a reply yet and SZA is still blasting from your room—

Until he hears the all-too-familiar scream, crash, and sigh. Two seconds later, there’s a knock at his door.

The first thing he notices when he opens the door is that you smell nice. Like jasmine scented body wash. He won’t ever admit to it, but yes, he did look at what body wash you used in the shower because you smell so nice. And right now, that really nice scent is wafting into his room, and you look so pretty with your freshly dried hair, and you’re so—

“Heeseung? Earth to Heeseung?” you giggle, waving a hand in his face.

Right. You were here because Heeseung needed to ask you something. He opens the door and lets you step inside, your fragrance casting a spell on him.

He watches as you take a seat on his gaming chair. There’s a pitter patter in his chest as you take his headset and put it over your ears. You look back at him with a big smile, fingers positioned over his keyboard as if you were playing a game. “I’m you!”

Heeseung bites back a smile and nods, still content watching you play with the things around his desk. He doesn’t notice your eyes going wide at the pair of glasses that sit on top of his math textbook. You carefully take off the headset and replace it with the pair of glasses you found, turning back to him.

At first, Heeseung doesn’t notice your change in appearance, instead is hyperaware of himself and the way his heart is drumming in the cavity of his chest. It’s only when you take a seat in front of him that his heart goes into overdrive, the tips of his ears crimson and hot.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles, unaware that the words actually left his mouth.

“Do I look bad?” you ask, with a tilt of your head. Your eyes are so big and with your pouted lips, Heeseung can’t concentrate on what you just asked him.

He stammers, “N-no! You look really cute, actually.”

Your smile replaces the pout, which causes Heeseung’s heart melting into a pile of goo. His eyes travel your face, the way his glasses sit perfectly on top of your cheekbones and rest perfectly above the tip of your nose.

“Thanks,” you say. Over time, you’ve grown to be more comfortable with Heeseung, so you’re not as flustered around him anymore. There’s a part of him that kind of misses it, and a part of him that’s grateful you’ve become more secure with him. His eyes travel down to where you’re absentmindedly playing with your fingers. You’re not that comfortable yet. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

“Um, yeah. I do. My eyesight is shit,” Heeseung replies. He doesn’t wanna take his eyes off you, as if you’d remove the glasses from your face and he’d miss the way you look.

“I can tell,” you laugh. Your hand covers your mouth and Heeseung has to resist the urge to move your hand so he can see you smile. At this point, he’s almost fully forgotten why you’re here. “So, what’s up?”

Heeseung blanks. Now, he’s totally fully forgotten why he called you into his room. He was too entranced by the way you look in his glasses. He’s almost wondering what you would look like in his shirt now.

“Ah. Um. Right, let me-let me check my phone,” he scrambles, reaching for the device off his side table. With a quick swipe through his messages, he nods and looks at you again. “I wanted to ask you if you wanted to hang out with me.”

“Me? Me? Hang out with you? Heeseung Evan Lee? Bo—uhh, yes! Of course!” you stammer. Heeseung almost wonders what you were going to say before you caught yourself, but you look so gleeful answering his question. “What are we gonna do?”

“We’re going to go to Costco!” Heeseung exclaims. His eyes never leave your face, so he watches as your smile falters a bit. There’s panic setting into his system, as he tries to regain momentum. “Um, I wanted to get samples with you and I thought it would be really cute and I wanted to get to know what your taste in food is and—“

There’s a loud smacking noise that echoes in his room as you slap your hand over your mouth in shock and gasp loudly. “Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes! When are we going?”

“We can go right now, if you want!” Heeseung exclaims. His smile mirrors yours as he watches you jump up from his bed, rushing towards your bedroom. “Take your time!”

All he can do is laugh when Britney Spears begins to play from your speaker. He doesn’t realize you’re still wearing his glasses.

(fifteen.) / masterlist / (seventeen.)

summary. who cares if you’re desperate? who cares if you’re pathetic? who cares if you’re a loser? pay them haters no mind, because your roommate, lee heeseung, is gonna fall for you one day! fortunately for you, that day may be sooner than later.

taglist. @heesexual74 @tynlvr @wildtigerlili @pshfan0812 @aewon @heelovesmeknot @nicoleparadas @celli-ohs @beijinkaoya @tkooooop @enhypenlovre @rairaiblog @hexnoia @sucrosxi @heeheesang @mariwasneverthere @mwahvvis @starry-eyed-bimbo @leehsngs @firstclassjaylee @ningningiloveumarryme @danielleism @httpenhoon @strayy-kidz @bbsantc @immelissaaa @simjaeyunies

[valentine-cafe]

more about the herrera husbands and the gn!shy!assistant…

after the confession, they realize their assistant (with whom they are now in a sort of romantic relationship) is actually extremely clingy. but in some small subtle ways. like, grabbing the end of their sleeves and simply holding it like that, following them around like a small puppy, physically melting the second they receive headpats, leaning into their hands when they hold their face, etc.

and yet they deny being clingy when confronted, making them see their shy assistant huff and pout at the harmless accusations, crossing their arms in front of their chest and frowning while looking away with a small scoff, face all warm and stuttered excuses leaving their lips as they deny everything at all, saying how they do not enjoy their bodies’ temperatures mixing together, how smelling their perfumes is not comforting at all and how they absolutely despise the lingering touches (however, it is obvious it is all lies with the fact they are slowly becoming more and more flustered as more excuses sprout from their lips).

˖⁺. ﹙ mad doctor yandere  x gn reader x mad scientist yandere. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . so endearingly clingy !! 🍒 : jìngyí: mad doctor ˖ naga ˖ yandere character ˖ rishen: mad scientist ˖ mantis-moth-spider hybrid ˖ yandere character﹙ verse 209 jìngyí & rishen. ﹚

your boyfriends slowly begin to notice the subtle hints of your clinginess

“Sweet thing.” The doctor croons. The tip of his index moving below your chin to move your sight to his maroon gaze. Your hand lets go of his sleeve and fall to your side as you listen attentively to his words.

“Jìngyí? Something the matter?”

You notice the sparkle in his eye, oh that familiar spark of mischief. And you immediately draw away, knowing exactly what he’s going to say to you.

“Do not.” You scoff with your lips puckered together, trying to hide the flustered smile begging for you to just let it curl at the corners of your lips.

Until you feel a warm hand atop your head, gently patting it.

“Oh cariño don’t be so embarrassed, we know you’re clingy~” Rishem chuckles, his labcoat carelessly thrown across the nearby desk at arrival.

“I am not, remove your hand from my head at once, please.” Alas, your demand is fruitless. You know they know it is denial and small lies to get away from the clingyness accusations.

“Stop saying I follow you around like a puppy.” Jìngyí mimicks and earns a death glare from you

He laughs and smiles, while Rishen presses a little kiss to the crook of your neck.

Arms flail at the man who kisses you and wave off the other who mocks you, as you walk over to the cabinets where some of their perfume bottles stand.

“Smells nice, doesn’t it baobei?”

“No it does not.”

Rishen laughs at the interaction between his husband and you, shaking his head before giving Jìngyí his greeting kiss as well

[rmadridcore]

Under the Storm

Pairing: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Reader

Summary: On a rainy day, you and Aurélien share a moment of intense passion and intimacy, wrapped in each other completely.

Word Count: 2.8K

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Author’s note: okayy, i’ve been wanting to write for Tchou for a while but i couldn’t find proper inspo. apparently a tiktok edit i saw the other was all i needed 😭 here it is, hope you guys like it! tell me your opinions and also whether i should write for him more 🤍

The rain drummed gently against the windows, a soothing rhythm that filled the room with a sense of calm. The world outside was washed in shades of gray, the kind of weather that begged for blankets and whispered conversations. From the moment you opened your eyes that morning, the gloomy weather made you groan, casting a darker shadow over your mood. Starting the day with such horrific weather was never ideal, but your spirits lifted the moment you realized both you and your boyfriend had a day off. This dreadful rainy day could be transformed into a cozy, intimate one — filled with nothing but lounging around the house and basking in the warmth of your love.

Simple days with Aurélien always felt extra special. He had a way of making even the most mundane activities feel like extraordinary moments. It was his magic, his superpower: the ability to make you feel loved and excited at all times. His presence, his scent, his jokes, his face — everything about him was enough to bring you joy, contentment, and comfort, no matter the setting.

Especially now, as the two of you were sprawled on the couch in your shared home, limbs tangled together, your head resting on his firm chest. His hand moved softly through your hair in slow, soothing strokes. The faint, familiar scent of him filled your senses, intoxicating and comforting all at once. You fell asleep and woke up next to him every day, but his scent never failed to make you dizzy. That fresh, woody aroma, it was the smell of home.

Aurélien’s fingers threaded through your hair in a slow, rhythmic motion, while his lips left occasional, tender kisses on your head. The two of you were half-watching a silly movie, but when it ended, neither of you bothered to put on something else. The quiet, comfortable intimacy of the moment was far more captivating.

“You smell so nice,” you murmured, voicing the thought that had been swirling in your mind for a good twenty minutes.

He chuckled softly. “You tell me that almost every day.” His voice held a smile.

“That’s because you smell nice every day,” you replied, nuzzling closer into his chest. He responded with another soft kiss to your head.

“Stay here forever,” he murmured after a moment of silence, his voice barely above a whisper as his fingers lazily massaged your scalp.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I actually live here,” you teased, a playful lilt in your tone.

“No, like… forever. Right here. With me,” he said, his voice warm but serious, as though he were pouring his soul into those words.

Your heart melted at his sincerity. “Baby,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to his jawline. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, ever.” You kissed him again, this time on the lips, a quick, tender peck before resting your head back on his chest.

“Keep stroking my hair, or I’m outta here this second,” you warned playfully when he paused for a moment. His soft laugh vibrated against your cheek as he resumed his gentle strokes.

You began placing soft kisses along his jawline, intending to keep things innocent and savor the simplicity of just being close to him. But those soft kisses soon deepened into open-mouthed ones. You tried to stop yourself, wanting to hold onto the moment’s pure comfort a little longer, but the feel of his smooth skin, his intoxicating scent, and the soft, shallow breaths he let out when your lips met his skin made it impossible to pull away.

His hand slid from your hair to your waist, pulling you even closer as his lips sought yours. The rain continued its soothing rhythm against the windows, but inside, the room was filled with warmth — the kind of heat that chased away the chill of any gray day.

With his lips finding yours and your hand cupping his gorgeous face, Aurélien slipped his tongue into your mouth, not letting you catch your breath. Your lips moved in perfect sync, an unspoken understanding passing between you both with every kiss. His kisses were always special — warm, consuming, and utterly mesmerizing. The moment his mouth met yours, it was like the world beyond the two of you ceased to exist.

Without warning, he gently laid you back on the couch, his lips never leaving yours. His movements were deliberate but tender, a balance of passion and care that left you breathless. His hands framed your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as though he were committing every inch of your skin to memory. Slowly, he trailed his lips down to your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers coursing through your body. When his mouth reached your collarbone, a soft hum escaped your lips, and he paused to glance at you, his gaze dark and smoldering.

Sliding to his knees in front of the couch, his hand moved to the button of your pants. His fingers worked the fabric open with a deliberate slowness that sent your pulse racing. He lowered the fabric down your legs, his touch lingering, as though savoring the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

“I want to make you feel good, angel,” he whispered, his voice sultry and smooth, wrapping around you like silk. Your chest rose and fell quickly, anticipation coiling tightly in your core as you nodded in acknowledgment, unable to find your voice.

Aurélien lifted one of your legs onto his shoulder, his lips brushing feather-light kisses along the other leg until he reached your inner thigh. Each kiss was tender, yet it left a trail of heat in its wake. You couldn’t resist the urge to tug off your top, revealing the delicate lace of your bra. His gaze flickered up to meet yours, his lips curling into a cheeky smile before resuming his path.

He kissed the inside of your thighs with a deliberate intent, sucking gently until tiny purple marks bloomed against your skin. The teasing was almost unbearable, and you couldn’t help the soft whine that escaped your lips.

“Please, Aurélien,” you pleaded, your voice laced with impatience and longing.

His eyes met yours, a playful glint sparking in them. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please...please.” The words tumbled from your lips, your need overwhelming your usual composure.

“Patience, baby,” he teased, his lips grazing tantalizingly close to where you craved him most. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk at your frustrated sigh.

Finally, his hands hooked around the waistband of your underwear, easing it down and leaving you exposed to him. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips against your clit, his tongue curling expertly around the sensitive nub. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Your hips bucked instinctively, but his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place. One hand slid up to your stomach, splaying against your skin to steady you as he flattened his tongue against your clit, applying the perfect amount of pressure.

“You’re so beautiful. So wet. Is this all for me?” he murmured between strokes, his voice dripping with admiration. You nodded hastily, your breath coming in short gasps as his tongue continued its relentless assault.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly as his mouth and fingers worked in perfect harmony. He glanced up briefly, his dark eyes locking onto your flushed face before increasing the pace of his fingers. They moved inside you with precision, curling just right to hit the spot that made your back arch and your moans grow louder.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. His words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, amplifying the intensity of your pleasure. He squeezed your hand gently, the reassurance grounding you even as your orgasm built to a peak.

Your body trembled, a shudder rippling through you as your climax overtook you. A deep moan escaped your throat, your head falling back against the couch as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. Aurélien stayed with you through every moment, his touch steady and comforting as he helped you ride out your high.

When your breathing finally began to slow, he climbed back up to you, his movements unhurried and tender. He brushed your hair away from your face, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, nose, and cheeks. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his voice gentle and soothing. Your eyes remained closed as you basked in the warmth of his embrace, your heart still racing but your soul utterly at peace.

You mindlessly pulled him closer, burying your face in his neck. The aftermath of your powerful climax left you craving his warmth and gentle reassurances. “Take me upstairs,” you whispered, your voice still shaky but full of longing. You kissed his neck softly, your hand trailing down his abdomen with deliberate intent.

“Okay, baby. Let’s go upstairs,” Aurélien replied, his tone filled with both tenderness and mischief.

Without wasting a second, you grabbed his hand and stood, leading him eagerly toward the staircase. “Eager girl,” he teased, his smirk evident in his voice as he followed your hurried steps.

“Need you to catch up,” you shot back playfully, glancing over your shoulder as you reached his room. “You’re still wearing too many clothes.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but you silenced him by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss. It was deep and consuming, leaving no room for argument. Together, your hands found the hem of his sweater, tugging it over his head in one smooth motion. You couldn’t help but admire his sculpted frame, your fingers instinctively trailing down his chest and over his toned abs.

The back of your legs bumped against the bed, and you sank onto it, never breaking contact. Your hands roamed down his body, tugging his sweats and underwear down as he helped you slide them off completely. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, an unspoken urgency shared between you both.

Without hesitation, he joined you on the bed, his lips capturing yours again in a kiss so deep it stole your breath. Your body responded instinctively, every nerve alive under his touch. Your hands clung to his biceps, their strength grounding you, as his body aligned perfectly with yours.

When he shifted slightly, the unmistakable hardness of him brushed against your thigh, sending a shiver of anticipation through you. His lips never left yours as he entered you in one smooth motion, filling you completely. The sensation drew a moan from deep within you — a sound so raw and vulnerable it felt like you had been holding it in forever.

Aurélien froze for a moment, his dark eyes searching yours. “You’re okay?” he murmured, his voice laced with both concern and desire.

“More than okay,” you whispered, tightening your legs around his waist in response.

Your body instinctively clenched around him, and his reaction was immediate, a low grunt that vibrated through his chest. His fingers gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to move. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one drawing out a new wave of pleasure.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your temple. “So perfect.”

Every word, every motion, sent you spiraling higher. Your nails dug into his back, desperate to ground yourself as the intensity built. “Aurélien,” you cried out, your voice shaky. “It’s so good. Please, faster.”

He pulled back slightly, his movements quickening as he adjusted the angle. The change sent a new wave of sensation crashing through you, pulling moans from your lips that left him in awe.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his lips trailed along your neck. “Anything, you only have to ask.”

You hesitated briefly, the vulnerability of the moment making you shy. But the intensity of his gaze gave you the courage to meet his eyes. “Don’t hold back,” you whispered, your hand resting against the nape of his neck. “I want all of you.”

You shifted, lifting yourself slightly, and Aurélien immediately mirrored your movement, his hands steadying you as you turned to face the headboard. Your back arched instinctively, presenting yourself to him. You heard him suck in a deep breath, the sound full of restraint as if he were forcing himself to keep control.

His hands settled on your hips, his thumbs brushing soothingly across your skin in a motion that reassured and electrified you all at once. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent. Then, with deliberate care, he guided himself back into you, every inch of him sending shivers through your body as you adjusted to his size. He paused, giving you the time you needed, his fingers tightening just enough on your hips to anchor you.

“Take your time,” he whispered, his tone as soft as his grip was firm.

Your body responded instinctively, stretching and molding to him, until the tension eased and the pleasure began to bloom. He started to move, slow and steady at first, his rhythm purposeful. Each thrust built on the last, filling the room with the intoxicating symphony of your heavy breathing, whispered moans, and the rhythmic sound of skin meeting skin. His grip on your hips tightened, not with restraint but with a passion so palpable it made your breath hitch.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. The way your body responded to him was a constant encouragement, each moan spurring him on. “Such a perfect pussy, made for me.”

The heat of his words sent a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you couldn’t hold back your response. “I love you,” you moaned, your voice shaky and raw.

His chuckle was dark and teasing, yet full of warmth. “Yeah? How much?” he asked, his voice husky as his hips snapped forward, driving deeper.

“So, so much,” you managed to breathe out, your voice trembling as the coil in your lower belly tightened with each of his perfectly angled thrusts. Your walls fluttered around him, your body responding to him in ways that felt completely out of your control.

Aurélien groaned at the sensation, his fingers gripping your hips hard enough to leave a mark. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

You felt yourself spiraling, the tension inside you reaching its breaking point. “Gonna cum,” you gasped, your words barely audible as your chest heaved with shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hand slipping down between your legs. His fingers found your clit, circling it with a pressure that sent you hurtling toward release. The combination of his thrusts and the expert movement of his fingers unraveled you completely. Your legs began to tremble uncontrollably, your body shaking as the most euphoric sensation tore through you.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice soft but commanding as he lowered himself over you. His lips brushed your ear, and he murmured, “Shhh, that’s it, let it happen. Let me take care of you.”

Your moans dissolved into soft whimpers as the waves of your climax crashed over you. Aurélien slowed his movements, drawing out every ounce of your pleasure as his hands slid soothingly over your back. You felt his rhythm falter, his hips pressing deep one last time as he groaned your name. Heat flooded your core, his release a hot pulse that seemed to blend with your own pleasure, leaving you both utterly spent.

He stayed still for a moment, his breathing uneven as he rested his forehead against your shoulder. Then, with infinite tenderness, he withdrew from you and carefully helped you onto your back. His hands never left you, guiding you gently as though you were made of glass.

“Are you okay, my love?” he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “More than okay,” you whispered.

He leaned down, brushing a kiss to your temple, then your nose, and finally your lips. His touch was feather-light. He grabbed one of your hands, bringing it to his lips as he peppered soft kisses along your knuckles and the back of your hand, his eyes twinkling with affection.

The tender gesture made you giggle, the sound light and airy, breaking the charged atmosphere with an intimacy that was uniquely yours. “What’s so funny?” he asked, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Nothing,” you said through another laugh. “Just…you’re too sweet.”

He grinned, leaning down to press one last lingering kiss to your lips. “Only for you,” he murmured, his voice soft and genuine.

He gathered you into his arms, pulling you close against his chest. His warmth surrounded you, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothing as your breathing slowed. As the night stretched on, you felt yourself drifting off, the safety and love in his arms lulling you into peaceful slumber.

[rhyrhy]

Fields of you 🍎

Chapter one: Under the hood

Farmhand/cowgirl Abby! X female reader!

Next chapter

The sunlight poured through your sheer cream-colored curtains, casting a heavy golden glow over your eyelids. The familiar smell of coffee poured into your room. That meant Nana was up. I better get up before she thinks I’m sleeping the day away, you thought. knowing how your grandmother doesn’t believe in staying in bed all day.

Nana and Papaw had been taking care of you since the days of pigtails and hiding under their wooden dining table.

You could still picture the same rocking chair on the porch where Nana would sit you down, tugging your hair into too-tight ponytails with those clunky, colorful beads at the ends. “Keep them hands out your head,” she’d warn, swatting your then small hands away.

She wasn’t being mean she just wanted it to be out of your face so you wouldn’t bump into anymore walls or track mud on the floors. They loved you. even if they were hard sometimes, that’s grandparents for you. Loving ones, anyway.

As you grew into a young woman your papaw would always pull the hem of your clothes down or ask you to put jackets on as he didn’t want men on the farm ‘getting ideas’. little did he know you weren’t the slightest bit interested in the males who came and gone on the land.

Especially after seeing her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

You sat up, rubbed your eyes, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. After throwing on your usual work boots, you headed out, careful to avoid stepping in Clover’s excrement one too many times in your nice shoes. The house dog, who shadowed nana.

making your way down the carpeted stairs to see the familiar sight of papaw in his usual seat on the end of couch, newspaper in hand circling deals from the supermarket. And nana in the kitchen making breakfast, which you always helped with.

Not feeling particularly hungry, you settled for some fruit and buttered toast. Nana raised an eyebrow at your choice but didn’t press though. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “Your stomach’s gonna be talkin’ to ya soon.” Which is just her way of saying ‘please eat later’.

You promised you would and headed out for the day.

The sun was beaming down on the grass, the air was warm complimented by the crisp breeze of the small gust of wind. pushing small pieces of hair off your lipgloss that stuck occasionally.

Meanwhile, Papaw put on his beanie to keep his head warm, no matter the weather. Along with the swish of his pants that your nana hated but it was his favorite pair. so, jokes about the noise sufficed instead of her throwing them out.

“Oh good lord” papaw groaned, as the engine of his truck struggled to keep—again. That thing was a bucket of bolts, but he wouldn’t scrap it. He loved it yet was always surprised when it broke down on occasion. through he always got it magically working again with some handyman who lived down the road apparently. They felt like a myth as you never got a chance to meet em’. “They could fix just about anything with their hands”. You just always gave papaw a pat on the shoulder when he would happily exclaimed that it was up and running again so he could continue his day.

“I’ll call Anderson,” Nana called from the doorway, shaking her head. She wished he’d just use one of the newer vehicles.

Yeah, Anderson. That was the name Papaw always dropped when talking about the helping hand. Yet, You didn’t have time to dwell on it. Nana snapped you out of your thoughts with a teasing smile. “You’re quiet today, sugar.”

“Just thinking,” you replied.

“Well, stop all that thinkin’. Barn won’t clean itself, ya know.”

She joked and nodded towards the side door.

Welp, time to get muddy and that gross yet comforting smell that lingered as made your way to the showers. By the time you were done, your arms ached, and that earthy smell crept in.

You didn’t mind the extra elbow grease you had to put in helping on the land you used to run a muck in.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Sighing deeply, and cleaning your hands off with a rag. You made your way back to the house, to see if nana needed you to do anything else before you flopped down on your bed and spent a few hours reading.

The sounds of humming and metal clinking traveling into your earshot as you crunched down the gravel path. you were always greatful for it, as your sense of direction wasn’t the best, really. how embarrassing would it be to get lost on the land you grew up on. As you grew closer your sore eyes caught a glimpse of something that made you double take.

A Head ducked under the popped hood. One boot rested on the bumper. The other knee deep into the car, like she’d be swallowed if she leaned in any closer. White skintight top stuck to the figures toned torso. Sweat on their lower back. As your eyes trailed higher, you couldnt help but feel a little fluttered at the slight of their arms flexing with each twist, pull, and tinker. they really knew what they were doing.

The all-mighty handyman Papaw always talked about was a woman?

And woman she was indeed.

You tilted your head and took a step forward to get a better look, you couldn’t help yourself.

The crunch from behind gave her a slight startle the woman bumping her head on the hood. Dropping her tool in her hand to rub the spot. One eye shut from the sting. Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling bad for giving her such a scare. Yeah, you probably should have announced yourself.

“Damn it” she mumbled.

A pause breezes by as she steps out from under the hood of the vehicle. Still rubbing her head with a wince.

“Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow, curiously looking you over with small smile tugging at her lips.

“Just a bump, nothing major”She laughs, wiping grease off her hands. “If your grandfather sent you over, I’m just about finished.”

You nodded, and proceeded to make small talk and double checking that she was alright with the small bump of her head. Her voice was soft, in contrast to her appearance.

Halfway through the conversation, you both realized you hadn’t to introduce yourself properly and that’s when you finally knew her name.

Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson.

A name that definitely suited her. now, you only hoped papaws truck broke down more often because…

she was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

This is based off of how I grew up a little so writing this feels so cozy! (The hair beads, and smaller details)

Ty for reading the first chapter! 💐

[graciedollie]

Grayson x plus size fem S/O fluff, but make it appreciation like rather than objectification? Just something softer instead of straight up sexualization of reader's size 🙏🙏🙏

Nothing But Love

pair: grayson x plussize!reader

summary: It was a beautiful day in the gorgeous town of Piltover as you and your wife were taking your usual stroll through the markets. She spoiled you rotten, buying you anything you had wanted and she was enjoying every bit of it. The day certainly got better when something caught your eye.

warnings; none, just pure fluff, grayson loves her wife (you), and you’re married (ofc) , reader is fem (ofc)🎀

a/n: hope you enjoy anon <3 (and i completely understand the sexualization thing—it literally gets to a point!!)

The gorgeous city of Piltover was buzzing with activity of crowd. Kids running around freely, people chatting happily with one another and even checking the latest inventions that were released not too long ago. It was a perfect day for a nice outing with your lovely wife, Grayson.

You two been happily married for a good 3 year and it’s been the best 3 years of your life. Grayson always loved you dearly, inside and out. You were a bigger girl and that just made Grayson fall in love with you even more, but your personality and aura really caught her heart more than your body.

Yeah, she loved your body—god she loved it. She worshipped your body for fucks sake, but that wasn’t what she mainly loved. She loved the way you carried yourself and how you always held this aura around you. She was utterly in love with you and wouldn’t change it any other way—you were both madly in love.

You two were happily enjoying the beautiful day you were offered and were walking along the busy streets of buzzing people. Grayson wrapped her arms around your waist as her hand rested on your hip, rubbing her thumb over your hips—enjoying the feeling of your hip dips she was obsessed with. She had opted for a nice causal outfit while you wore a nice (favorite color) dress that hugged your body—allowing your stomach to show proudly, plump thighs peeking slightly and the swell of your breast.

Grayson always loved when you wore dresses, especially those pretty sundresses. God she was utterly obsessed with them and always bought one for you whenever she saw it—which you were always thankful for!! With the day of shopping and running errands, she was excited to go clothes shopping with you, even if it was a hassle for you to pick clothes—she was always quick to help her precious!!

You first stopped at your usual floral shop that you lived to pick up your favorite flowers and you always—ALWAYS—made sure to pick Grayson flowers too (which were those pretty Iris flowers!!) Your eyes were practically gleaming as you happily sniffed the flowers, turning to her wide smile tugged at your lips as you held the flowers to her. “Ain’t they pretty, baby? They smell so, SO good!” She couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, nodding at you with a warm smile etched on her lips, “Mhm, I see, love. Wanna get those?”

Of course you did! You’d call yourself a fool for passing up such things!!

Grayson became increasingly more excited as you were practically flying through your errands, making it closer to finally trying out new clothes for you—this was honestly the main reason why should love running errands with you.

Regardless of whatever you were doing, she just loved being close to you. Her eyes caught sight of the way your nose looked from the side, your double-chin and the way your cheeks would puff whenever you smile—this woman was smitten by you:

It didn’t take long until you both reached your usual clothing store, Adoring Attire. It was your favorite clothing shop that always had your favorite styles and even plus sizes—which was honestly a struggle to find since most people were thinner, but you didn’t let that bother you too much. The bell above the door ringed throughout the shop,causing the familiar employee, Amaria, turned her head with a warm smile. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customers. How can you help you today?”

Going shopping, specifically clothing shopping, was not always the best experience. Either something was too big or too small, too tight or too loose, or just didn’t shape your figure right. It was frustrating and made shopping difficult, but Grayson introduced you to Amaria shop that so happened to be plus size friendly!! It was honestly a relief to finally find your spark in shopping—now you couldn’t get enough.

“I’m just looking for certain pieces for some little outfits I plan to do!” You chimed happily with a sweet smile, clasping your arms with Grayson as she gazed at you with nothing but love and adoration. Amaria nodded in understanding, swiftly making her way through the racks of clothes as she ushered you over, “these are my recent pieces i’ve made! Feel free to take a look, love.” Oh you were. She didn’t even have to tell twice.

With you grabbing multiple clothing here and there before disappearing in a dressing room, Grayson leaned against the wall as she looked around with an observant gaze; though her mind was racing with excitement and curiosity to see what you were going to come up with.

⋆

“Baby, what do you think?” Was all Grayson heard before she turned her head to see you in all of your glory—she was ready to marry you all over again. Not that you would be complaining, of course. Her lips parted slightly as her eyes went wide at the sight of you, dressed nicely from head to toe. You came out of the dressing room wearing a black button-up shirt with a stripped vest that was paired with a tie and fixed with layers of black skirts, matched with some black heels and sock.

The outfit showed your figure perfectly in ways that didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable or too closed in. It. was. perfect. You, yourself, was perfect and it was clear Grayson though so too with the way she gazed at you as if you were her whole world—which you were. “Love, you look….stunning. God how’d I get so lucky, yeah?” She stepped closer to you as her hand found their way to your hips, pulling you closer to her as you gazed up at her with gleaming eyes and an adoring smile.

Your smile was always her weakness.

“Thank you, baby. You’re so sweet to me.” You murmured softly as you caressed her cheek before leaning into a loving kiss with her; savoring the taste of tea and smoke on her tongue—god YOU were thinking about marrying her all over again now.

You pulled away from the kiss with a small chuckle, running a thumb gently over her cheek as you cupped her face, looking at her with nothing but pure love and affection, “I love you so much, honey…” She couldn’t help the stupid smile that crept along her lips, revealing the smile lines that appeared on her lovely skin, “I love you most, sweetheart.”

“That’s quite impossible since I love you wayyy more.”

“Oh really now?”

“Yes, really.”

She shook her head with a small chuckle escaping from her lips as she held you close to her, looking at you with pure adoration and love struck as she murmured, “Mhm, whatever helps you sleep at night, baby.” You rolled your eyes at her little remark, hitting her chest lightly; earning a hearty laugh from her. “You’re somethin’ else you know that?”

“And you love it.”

“That, I do.”

hope you enjoyed bbys!! <3

taglist!!

@sillygirl-lol

[worldly-fluster]

Snapdragon

Sylus x non-mc! reader

Part 2 of ?

(I got this border thingy from someone on here, can't remember who but this goes to them)

---

"Sy-?!"

The breath was knocked out of me as I hit the ground, feeling like I could pass out but the adrenaline of the moment kept me awake.

In a daze, I looked around, seeing that it was dark, probably night time.

I seemed to be in a park, I could see modern buildings in the distance...

I was...home?

"Hello!"

The sudden voice startled me as I jumped up with a screech.

"I am OTTO! Would you be interested in taking photos for a promotion at our store?"

I blinked fast as I stared at the floating...bot.

"No?"

"Okay! Have a nice day!"

I watched as it floated away, it not really registering in my head fully for a moment.

Was that...an Otto from the LADS game?

So I was still not home yet...

Did I want to go home?

I...want to go back to my Snapdragon.

---

I wandered around the park for a bit, I think I saw a sign saying Rainbow Park? So I guess I'll call it that.

The sun was peaking over the trees in said park when I ran into someone that seems familiar.

When he sees me, he smiles and waves.

"MC!! Miss Bodyguard!"

...ah shit.

"What a surprise to see you out of uniform, taking a stroll around the park."

"Yeah, uh, didn't really have a choice you know?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well-"

I was interrupted by the sound of his phone receiving a notification.

"Hm?..."

Rafayel looks at his phone in confusion, it's a text from...MC? But she's standing right in front of him?

He looks back and forth between his phone and me before he asked.

"You're not Miss Bodyguard, are you?"

"No...I kinda need help getting home..."

"Where's that?"

"Wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

I play with my hands nervously as I look away before explaining.

"You see...I'm from a different...reality. I only figured that out when I saw flying robots honestly. Back home there was no such thing- the closest is an AI but those don't fly."

"...okay. How did you get here then?"

"I don't know honestly, this is the second time this has happened to me and the only thing that's similar is that right before I get thrown somewhere else I smell something weird-"

"Like what?"

"Like, the first time it happened I kept smelling flowers but no one else could, I thought I was going insane but then when I went to bed, I woke up in a field of flowers."

"And the next time?"

"Right after a bad fight-my friend won- I could smell the exhaust of cars and the city. Seconds after that I started to glow and then got sent here."

"...hm..."

"I told you it's hard to believe."

"It is yeah, but I have experienced plenty of strange things."

"Really?"

"Yeah, not as strange as another reality yet, but there's a first for everything."

"Right..."

"So...since you're not from here, you probably don't have anywhere to stay."

"Nope."

"Well, you can stay at my place for now. We should have your problem fixed in the shake of a fishes tail!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, it'll be easier to help you if you stay nearby so it's no problem for me."

"Thank you."

---

We just made it to Rafayel's home. He was showing me around, his artwork was beautiful... He seemed to preen every time I complimented his work. We talked and joked around for a bit before we had to acknowledge the 'elephant seal' in the room-his words not mine.

"I just messaged Miss Bodyguard, she should be on her way here."

"Okay..."

"Nervous?"

"Yeah, it's not every day you meet yourself you know?"

"It is kind of a special only you thing...but I'm here to help."

---

"..."

"..."

"...So how are you two feeling? 'cause this is weird."

I snorted, bringing my hand to my mouth to stifle my laugh.

'Miss Bodyguard' looked over at Rafayel with a deadpan.

"...I can never leave you alone, can I?"

---

It took some explaining before we were all in silent contemplation. None of us knew what to do next.

"I don't know how to help you..."

Miss Bodyguard sighed, making Rafayel frown.

"Well, we can't just not help her though."

"I know, which is why I'm going to contact some people to help."

"and who would that be?"

---

"Luke and Kieran at your service Miss Hunter!"

"Am I seeing double right now?"

"...no no...there are two Miss Hunters..."

"...Boss'll be happy."

Miss Bodyguard, or Miss Hunter, shook her head.

"No, no telling him. He'll be a pain in my ass if he gets involved himself."

"But-"

"No."

"Yes ma'am."

Through this conversation I was giggling, they were more fun in person.

Rafayel stood to the side with a pout, but soon got distracted when his phone started going off, causing him to flinch.

"Uh oh..."

---

Miss Hunter/Bodyguard was taking me to her place, Rafayel was busy dealing with the fallout of procrastinating and Thomas was not happy.

"When we get there, if we run into anyone...your my estranged twin sister that was living overseas."

"Okay...but we have the same names?"

"...Fuck."

---

As we practically jogged through the lobby, we were stopped by yet another familiar face.

"Hey MC-..."

"Xavier! I can explain."

Xavier looked from her to me for a second, his hands holding a container of something.

"Hi?"

"Hello..."

We exchanged awkward greetings as Miss Bodyguard panicked.

"This is my um...oh who am I kidding, I can't lie to you."

"What?-"

"Come on Xav, I'll explain back at my apartment."

"Okay." He walks with us, turning to me when we reach her door, "Would you like to try this? I've been working on my baking."

"Oh! Sure why not."

As I grab a cookie? And place it in my mouth is seemed Miss Bodyguard realized what was happening and she twirled around with her hand out and a look of horror on her face.

"Mm! Not bad actually...it reminds me of the Peppernuts my step-grandma used to make. Can I have more?"

Xavier seemed to start to glow as he handed me the entire container. The little light particles floating around him as he smiled with wide, happy eyes.

Miss Bodyguard froze in shock before turning around and opened the door.

---

"I...need to use that bathroom..."

"It's the first door on the left, right before the kitchen."

I go into the bathroom, do my business, but as I'm washing my hands...the cabinet door above the sink just falls off and hits my head. It doesn't do much damage, just a small gash, but because it's on my head it bleeds terribly.

I walk out of the bathroom to Xavier standing in the hallway with Miss Hunter peaking her head out of the kitchen. When they see the blood they...kinda panic.

Xavier, without question, automatically lifts me up and goes to run out to take me to the hospital- but Miss Hunter stops him.

"Xavier! We can't take her to the hospital, I'll just call Zayne if we can't stop the bleeding here."

We end up having to call Zayne, the bleeding wouldn't stop and I was getting lightheaded.

When Zayne walks through the door, he sees me and paused for a second before immediately going into doctor mode.

He stopped the bleeding and put a small bandage over it. When he finally saw everything was fine, he looked at my face then turned towards Miss Hunter.

"Explain."

---

Miss Hunter explains what happened to both men, having not finished explaining it to Xavier before I accidentally hurt myself.

---

Miss Hunter gets a call from the Twins when she's done explaining.

"We found a few things that could help...but..."

"We will have to let Boss in on this in order to know more."

"... Damnit, fine."

"We'll meet him at the Kitty Cafe down the street."

---

"So Sylus is... intimidating. He doesn't know anything about privacy either, sending his Crow, Mephisto, to watch me with his camera vision thing. Ugh! I hate him...can't believe I have to deal with him more than I have to now."

"...Maybe I should just stay here?"

"You don't want to come to the Cafe?"

"Not really..."

I just don't want to meet the Sylus of this world...he's not my Snapdragon... probably. I just don't want to hurt myself if he isn't.

"Okay, that's fine. I didn't want you to have to meet this guy anyway so that works out perfectly."

---

I sat in Miss Hunter's apartment, a little bored staring out the window. Waiting for her to come back with news or something that will help me go back...to which place, I don't know anymore.

I would honestly love it if they were able to send me back to my Snapdragon...

Caw!

I startled as I heard a tapping on the window, too deep in thought to even realize there was now a crow hopping on the ledge.

"Oh...hello there."

I tap the glass back and giggle as the crow jumps away a bit before coming back to tap the glass again.

"You're awfully cute...I'm gonna guess your this Mephisto Miss Hunter was talking about?"

Caw Caw!

I giggle and open the window to let him in from the cold. He does a few hops before flying into the apartment and landing on the back of a chair, not too far from me.

"Want to keep me company while everyone is busy?"

Caw!

I coo at his adorable crowing.

"You're adorable, I don't know why she doesn't seem to like you...she doesn't seem to like this Sylus either."

I sit on another chair next to where Mephisto is perched.

"There is a Sylus that I know...he was ruff around the edges but he is just a sweetheart...I miss him."

I sigh as I turn my head back to the still open window.

Caw...

There's a moment of silence before I ask.

"So...from what I've heard you're a camera or video recorder right?"

Caw.

"I'll take that as a yes." I giggle.

Caw caw caw!

"Can you tell your boss, Thank you, for me? I'd appreciate it if he helps me get back..."

Caw! Caw caw!

"Oh you're too cute...you know crows are my favorite bird?"

Caw?

"Yep, they're just so pretty...I've always wanted to pet one but I'd get too excited and they would fly away before I'd take a step closer."

Caw!

Mephisto jumps to the end of his chair and flaps a few times before hopping onto my lap.

"Oh! Can I pet you then?"

Caw!

I smile all giddy, as I slowly run the back of my fingers on his feathery chest.

"Oh you are so precious..." I coo at him and he fluffs up his feathers, getting comfortable in my lap.

---

Miss Hunter came back from meeting Sylus with a frown and practically growled when she saw Mephisto on my lap. His feathers flatten in alarm but he doesn't make a move to leave.

"Oh not you again!"

Caw!

She goes to shoo him off when I hold him closer to me.

"Hey now, Mephi didn't do anything."

"Oh he does plenty by being here."

"No, as long as he is polite he can stay as long as he wants with me."

Caw.

"See? He agrees he will be good."

"No, this is my home. No crows allowed."

I huff and stand with Mephisto in my arms, all snug and not trying to leave.

"Then I'm leaving too."

"Where can you go? Raf is busy with work, and you don't know anyone else."

I look down at Mephisto in my arms in thought. Maybe I should just pull the bandaid off? Go ahead and meet him?

"Do you think your boss will let me stay with him Mephi?"

Caw!

His little head does a bobbing motion as his beak makes a clicking sound, his tail feathers fluffing out a bit and shaking.

"I'll take it as a yes then."

"Wait wait, hold on. You can't just go stay with him! He's probably, if not the, most dangerous man on this planet!"

"Then I will be the safest with him, right Mephi?"

Caw!

I continue walking to the door, cooing at Mephisto the whole way. She doesn't try to stop me but I hear a scoff come from her.

"We won't listen to her, I mean, he's my best bet at getting home I think. What with him having all those leads and all."

Coo.

"Oh you're so cute..."

---

When I make it to the lobby of the apartment building, I realized I didn't have a way of contacting him...

"Hey Mephisto? Do you think you can go tell him for me?"

Caw?

"Yeah, I don't have anything on me to contact anyone..."

Caw!

Mephisto ruffles his feathers and hops up from my arms onto my shoulder, his beak slightly rubbing on the small bandage on my head, wiggling his tail a bit before he flies off in what seems a random direction to me.

I decided to sit on a nearby bench and wait...

I wonder how this will go...

**@poptrim I finally finished Part 2!!!! There will be at least 2 more parts, the next one will be more snippets of Dragon! Sylus because while we wait for him we think back on some memories we have with him.**

***this hasn't been edited btw***

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Prelude pt. 2

pairing: gambler/drug dealer!yoongi x grad student!fem!reader, surprise pairings rating: mature MDNI! 18+ only. Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked!!! genre: strangers-to-lovers, age gap, intro to e2l mafia/bodyguard au summary: he shows up a second time. but does he stay? warnings/tags: oral (f. receiving), usage of sl*t, motorcycle riding, angst, bantering, dialogue heavy, smoking, implied drug dealing/usage, tiny bit of fluff, flashback of secondary school relationships, referenced underage drinking wc: 12k 😭 im sorryyyy huuuuuge ginormous humongous thank you to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo for her extraordinary commentary and feedback that never fails to make me smile, as well as @syllviere for her emotional support lol and bouncing ideas with me for this fic. could not have done this without y'all and I’m so grateful for your friendship <333

prologue l ch 1. play nice l prelude. strangers 1/3 l prelude. 2/3 l prelude. 3/3 l

Boys. They’re so messy.

All four of you had been in the hotel room for only 15 minutes but already the floors and counters were littered with beer cans and food containers. Jin would’ve had an aneurysm if he’d seen how quickly things had turned into chaos.

You were sitting on the edge of one of the beds, sulking as you watched your brother get ready. He was choosing which snapback better matched his outfit while Tae leaned over the sink in the bathroom, smearing a charcoal pencil under his waterlines. Jimin, on the other hand, was on the bed opposite you, laying on his back with his phone in the air, playing some game. He’d been the first to get ready.

“Can’t I go? Please?” you whined.

“No,” Jungkook huffed, saying your name in a harsh tone.

“Why not?”

“Because Jin would skin me alive if he found out I took you to an underground poker game.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Tae intervened, stepping out of the bathroom, flashing you a wink. “You’re gonna cave just like you always do, so save yourself the trouble. You know Jin hyung would never do anything to his two precious babies.”

“You’re too nice to her,” Jungkook grumbled, fixing his small gauges.

“She’s so cute, I can’t help it!” Tae exclaimed, your brother rolling his eyes.

“She’s just my lame, annoying sister.” Your jaw dropped, entirely hurt, and Jimin sat up to look between you and your brother with a frown on his face. If only you could hug him without Jungkook throwing a fit. His hugs always made you feel better.

“You’re so mean!” Tae came to your defense. “She loves you and that’s why she wants to go everywhere with you. Maybe you should be nicer.”

Jungkook shook his head defiantly, narrowly missing the pillow you chucked at him. But then he looked at you with a grimace, and you shot up on your feet with a smile. The familiar look of reluctance.

“Don’t wander off or be a pain in my ass,” Jungkook pointed a stern finger at you to which you stuck your tongue out before giddily bouncing over to the bathroom where Tae was finishing up with his hair.

“Thanks, Tae,” you murmured softly as you stepped up next to him.

“Of course, little angel. I always got your back.” You smiled at his soft elbow nudge in your side. “He’s really the lame and annoying one. Not you.”

“I heard that!” Jungkook called out in an offended tone.

“Good!” Tae shot back, grinning widely as you giggled. “Go get ready. We have to leave soon to catch the bus.”

****

The bar was musty, smelling of cigarettes, gross men, and booze, and the dim lights had a green smokey film floating underneath, creating a spooky atmosphere.

“Guys, do you really think we should be here?” Jimin asked nervously, wringing his hands. You stared, wanting to hold one of them.

Tae turned around from where he was standing beside your brother and hopped over with a smile, hooking an arm around Jimin’s neck.

“Aw, it’s okay, Baby J. We have my big pitbull to protect us, remember?” Tae jutted a thumb over his shoulder at Jungkook. Jimin shoved him away.

“How about this?” Tae booped his nose, and you found it cute the way Jimin wrinkled it in response. “When I win, I’ll use the money to replace your shit car.”

You stifled a laugh as Jimin kicked at his shin and Tae skipped away with a laugh, stopping beside your brother who was rolling his eyes at your antics. But he smiled shyly when Tae slung an arm around his waist.

Jimin looked grateful when you hooked your elbows together, both of you sparing a look at your brother to make sure he didn’t notice. Jimin quickly pinched your cheek that flushed under his touch, heart racing when he soothed it with his thumb.

You’d get around to telling them eventually.

Jungkook got in a small argument with a server who thought his ID was a fake, and her eyes widened in shock when your brother turned around to reveal the family emblem permanently drawn on the back of his neck, hidden by the lid of his hat. Your stomach churned at the sight. In a few years, you’d have to get the same tattoo. The very reason why you hated crows.

The server ran off to retrieve the owner, who walked briskly towards your group, eyes hardened.

“Do you know what the boss would do to me if he found out I let you kids in here?” The bar owner exclaimed in a hushed tone, looking around as if Jin was lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce.

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Jungkook shrugged, adjusting the snapback. “Besides, I just turned 19, so I’m legally allowed to be here.”

“What about your friends?” Your brother glanced back at the three of you. Jimin looked like he was about to throw up and Tae consolingly rubbed his back.

“He’ll be 19 in December, and they have IDs saying they’re old enough.” Jungkook pointed at Tae, and then at you and Jimin.

The man nodded at you and you did your best to maintain a calm demeanor. “Even her?”

“She’s my kid sister, she goes everywhere with me. I’m basically her permanent babysitter.” You flipped him off.

“You’re making me walk a tight line, kid,” the owner sighed. “But alright, come on.”

“You’re the man,” Jungkook grinned, looking back and beckoning you three to follow him.

“Hopefully not a dead one anytime soon.” Your brother laughed as he walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Nah, you’ll be good.”

As Jungkook led the way through the bar towards some stairs in the back, ignoring the side-glances you all received from the grown men playing cards, you noticed Tae looking around, scanning every table, every face.

“Who are you looking for?” You asked when your brother got caught up ordering a drink.

“Oh, an old friend of mine from back home.”

“Is that why you wanted to come here?”

“Yeah," he nodded with a wistful frown. "It was a long shot but I still wanted to see if I could run into him. He brought me a couple of years ago and taught me how to play.”

A sad look appeared on his face, so you didn’t think he wanted to talk anymore about it.

At the poker table downstairs, Jungkook sat down among the men like he owned the place, Tae right beside him. You pulled up a chair to sit behind them as cards were dealt and chips stacked. Jimin disappeared into the bathroom and didn’t come out for a while.

When the first river was dealt, Tae leaned back to whisper into your ear,

“Remember, it’s all in the eyes, little angel. You can always tell someone’s true feelings in their eyes.”

You nodded, intently watching Tae and your brother play, paying attention to the other men as well, trying to catch their tells.

Jimin returned with a tight smile on his face, and you both squeezed onto the chair, taking his hand into your lap since Jungkook was too engrossed in the play.

Your brother won a few rounds, smug as ever, but Tae won more and just gave Jungkook subtle nudges of his shoulder and whispers in his ear. You reminded yourself to tease him about the blush on his face later.

When the game ended, Tae emerged victorious, and all four of you celebrated with some shots at the bar, Jungkook making you vow that you’d never tell Jin.

Back home, Tae kept his promise to Jimin and bought him a nicer car. Still old and used, but less prone to breaking down.

For your birthday, he gifted you a keyboard, and it became one of your most prized possessions. With it, you composed a piece for Jimin who recorded and saved it on his phone, often playing it in his car whenever you two got some alone time, holding hands over the gearshift while you avoided looking at each other.

Some of your favorite memories. Ones that shaped you, seared a forever nostalgic hole in your heart. Ones that feel like they existed in another lifetime. Ones you’d give anything to relive.

The hotel room is smaller than you thought.

The queen-sized bed is located in the middle of the room, facing the terrace that has a clear view of the ocean. Around the corner of the foyer and hallway closet, is the bathroom; on the other side of that is a small nook with a mini fridge underneath an L-shaped counter, two armchairs on either side. It’s cozy. But cold. Quiet. You’re getting tired of being alone.

Your bags are wet, so you unpack everything to check that nothing’s ruined, rushing to get out your sketchbook. Flipping through the pages, you’re relieved that there’s no water damage. That would be very fucking unfortunate and you don’t need a panic attack right now.

After being caught in the rain, stuck in a basement with greasy men and cigarette smoke, and fucked in a cleaning closet, a hot shower is just what you need. But you don’t scrub your skin too hard. His touch still lingers.

You can still feel the tingle left by his fingers digging into your hips, hand wrapped around your wrist, mouth molded against yours. You don’t want to lose that feeling. Even though you lost him.

You want to scream at the top of your lungs. Why the fuck did you let that man go? You know, in your heart of hearts, that you’ll never meet someone like him again. You won his money - he didn’t owe you a goddamn thing and yet he came after you when he thought you were in danger. That had to mean something, right?

The thought of what would’ve happened if he hadn’t shown up makes your hands feel clammy, despite the steamy shower stall. Who knows what intentions those men had, aside from forcing you to give them the money back. You can fight, but your odds were against you with a group of vengeful thugs. And you don’t have your knife - it would’ve gotten confiscated at the airport and it means too much to you to risk that.

But you do have another weapon, pretty much guaranteeing that you could’ve walked out of there alive. With one flash of the back of your neck, those guys would’ve backed off and run for the hills.

You don’t mull over if Yoongi would join them; instead, spend the rest of your shower fuming, hot water incomparable to the burning in your veins. Because of him, mostly. For being such a jerk even though you didn’t do anything wrong, even though you tried being nice to him. For acting like you’d been the bane of his existence but still fucking you. And for sending you into a confusing whirlwind but not leaving you any time to catch up. And still making you want him.

Maybe you’ll just go to bed and forget him. Do some sketches, get a headstart on upcoming assignments, and go home tomorrow pretending that there isn’t some strange crack in your soul left by a man you just met.

You’re just about to start your skin care routine when three knocks rap on the door. You freeze. It’s almost the middle of the night, who the fuck- Oh, shit. Wait. It can’t be those guys. Wrapped up in a robe, you tiptoe out of the bathroom, mind racing as you formulate a plan if it is them. Pressing against the door, thinking about the possibility of shimmying your way off the balcony since you’re only on the second floor, you peer into the peep hole, heart flatlining when there isn’t a group of thugs outside, but a familiar mop of orange hair.

What the hell is he doing here? Whatever the reason is, you’re way too relieved that it’s him. Teetering on elated, everything you’d come to peace with in the shower wiped away at the sight of him standing outside your door, hands in his pockets, staring down at his shoes.

You swing open the door just as he turns for the stairs, like he’s giving up. His eyes are wide when he faces you, narrowing as they fall on your robe-covered body.

“You just keep turning up, don’t you? Were you a stray cat in a past life?” You tease, snickering at his glare as you lean on the door. He sighs, stuffs his hands further in his jacket, glares harder at the threshold.

“I lied to you about the buses.” You smile softly at his confession.

“I know. They run till midnight.”

“And I don’t have a friend’s place to crash.”

“I figured that.”

He doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t tell you what he’s here for, if he wants something. You already told him you’d give him money, you have more than enough, but you’ll be disappointed if that’s the only reason why he’s at your door.

“So, what? You showed up just to tell me that you lied?”

“No,” he mutters, shaking his head before snapping up to meet your gaze. The fire in his eyes is blazing. “For this.”

And suddenly he’s crowding your space, large, warm hands holding the side of your face. Again. And you barely have time to blink much less breathe before his lips crash onto yours. You thank your lucky stars.

He backs you into the wall behind the open door, and your heart runs in your chest when he starts kissing you just as hungrily as before. But this time, he makes the effort to angle your face with his in a way that he can kiss you passionately, with purpose, with heat, with his tongue meeting yours, exploring between your lips, into your mouth, like he’s trying to steal your breath away and you let him, kiss him back with equal fervor. He kisses you deeply enough that you can feel the effects all the way down to your toes, almost to the point of having an out of body experience, nothing you’ve ever felt before. He kisses you like he has no intention of stopping.

And you don’t want him to, but when you lift your arms to loop around his waist, bring him closer, his jacket is cool and wet, and his body vibrates beneath the layers. You break the kiss to catch your breath and tell him he feels cold, but apologies tumble through his swollen, pink lips.

“Shit, I don’t know what I was thinking, I should-” He takes a step back and you think he’s going to run again, so you grab the side of his damp jacket to keep him in place. Keep him near you.

“You’re shivering.”

He stiffens, but the back of his shoulders visibly tremble. You move past him to close the door, gesturing for him to take off his shoes.

“Do you want to shower?” He regards you for a moment, shoulders tense, and then nods, once. Directing him to the bathroom, you offer a small, warm smile but just as he reaches for the handle and opens the door a crack, you stretch your arm to land a hand on the frame, effectively blocking him.

“Admit that you think I’m pretty first.”

His eyebrows furrow, he blinks, and then swivels on his heels to head for the front door. Your loud laugh echoes after him.

“Have fun sleeping in the rain!”

He exhales a frustrated breath and another snicker fills the space in response as he turns back around.

“Come on, it’s not like you’ll be lying. For once.”

“Wow, pretentious, much?” he quips.

“Stubborn, much?”

His lip curls. “Annoying brat.”

“Grumpy jerk.” It’s enchanting, how quickly you match each other’s energy, hostile but with no real bite.

He scowls and tilts his head up to the ceiling, like he’s wondering what he’s gotten himself into. And your delighted grin glows at him.

“So, what’ll it be?” His glare flickers to you with a piercing glint.

“You’re pretty,” he grumbles, and even though you heard him, you lean forward, cupping your ear, wanting to hear it loud and clear.

“Hm? What was that?”

He speaks through clenched teeth. “You’re really fucking pretty. So there.”

“Dude, why do you look like you’re about to pop a vein?” You cackle and he runs a hand down his face.

“If it makes things any better, you’re not too bad looking yourself. I’d even go so far as to say you’re handsome. Like really fucking handsome,” You mock him and grin when he glowers at you. You nod to the bathroom.

“Get in there.” Twirling around, you just miss the way his cheeks tinge a subtle shade of pink.

As the door closes, your cheeks buzz with a dopey smile you can’t drop, color painting a part of your soul that’s been dormant for a long time, awoken when he showed up on your doorstep because he wanted to kiss you again. 

“Hey, can you do me a favor?” you call out. “Would you mind handing me my clothes? They’re on the sink.”

“Haven’t I done you enough favors?” From his one small moment of vulnerability, you forgot that he’s a fucking asshole.

With a huff, you knock on the door rapidly, holding your breath as the handle clicks and the door swiftly swings open to reveal Yoongi’s dark, narrowed eyes. Are you disappointed that he’s only dressed down to a black-tee, still in his jeans? You’ll never admit it. One more glance would show you that they’re unbuttoned, belt removed. The same jeans that were smacking on your ass back in the-

“Were you hoping I’d walk in on you naked?”

He cocks his head with a slight smirk. “I was hoping you’d walk in here naked.”

Oh, he’s smooth. Pulse dancing, you school your expression to conceal how flustered you are.

“Maybe I would’ve if you were nice. Can I have my clothes?” You hold out your hand and he glances down at it, a sigh leaving him as he brings his arm into view, passing over your sleep clothes. You snatch them with a cheeky smile and walk away to change. The door doesn’t shut until you’re around the corner.

Fully dressed and pretty much ready for bed, jet lag starting to get the best of you, you’re sitting at the white counter next to the window, re-checking all the designs in your sketchbooks when the door opens and Yoongi’s bare feet pad on the floor. You tense with the urge to turn around and see whether or not he’s appearing as what you’re imagining in your mind. Towel wrapped low on his hips, chest bare, body lithe and sleek and beautiful. When he passes behind you, the air around you thickens with his musk, the clinging scent of hotel soap and shampoo. Your legs cross under the table.

He stands adjacent to your seat, and you sneak a glance up at him peering down at your sketchbook, shaking a small towel over his wet hair. But he’s wearing a damn robe, sash tugged tightly around his waist, his clavicles and center of his chest just barely peeking out, two chains accentuating it. One is medium-length and studded with tiny diamonds, the other a long collection of stainless steel beads that hold two dog tags from his military service. 

You retract your gaze and pretend to draw, cheek warming against your fist. He’s so attractive, it’s not fair.

“Are you an architect or something?” he asks as he drops in the seat across from you, towel falling around his neck. His tone sounds accusatory, like he can’t fathom you being in that kind of profession, but you don’t take it personally. You figure it’s just another one of his asshole-isms.

“No, I’m just minoring,” you reply without looking at him. “These are some sketches I’m playing with for my thesis project in the spring.”

“How proactive. They’re, um,” he clears his throat. “They’re pretty decent.”

He’s still leaning over, so with a bashful smile, you slowly push the book to his side of the table, permission for him to examine more closely.

“Thanks. My friends and I are talking about opening up an architecture firm after we graduate, and they’re looking at me to take care of the business portion of it.”

“Hm.” He sounds indifferent, but he glimpses at you while you talk, so you think he’s at least listening. As soon as you stop, though, his eyes return to your sketchbook. And he’s not just flipping through them. He takes his time with each page, each design, even the messier ones with all the frustrated scribbles and eraser marks. Sometimes he leans in and squints to get a closer look at the smaller details and… No one has looked at your pages like that. Not even your friends. Or brothers. The only exception is your professors, but that’s for a grade. Something glimmers in your chest. Something warms.

You change the subject so you don’t dwell on it.

“What did you major in?”

Your question sparks a slight frown on his face as he flips a page. “I didn’t go to college. Not for me.”

You nod in understanding. “Then, what do you do? Or you just gamble for a living?”

“You and all these questions.”

“Fine. Be boring,” You huff, crossing your arms.

“I work on cars,” he reluctantly mutters. Perking up at that, you sit a little straighter.

“You’re a mechanic?”

He hums in acknowledgment and you launch into a mainly one-sided conversation about your favorite makes and models, wishing you could tell him about your brother’s extensive car and bike collection. You smile when he at least indulges you in his current vehicle choice - an Elantra. Ooh. Sporty.

You’re a tad too giddy when you ask, “Do you race?”

“I can. But I don’t.”

“Maybe one day I’ll beat you at that too.” He just sighs and shakes his head, and you wear your shit-eating grin as the conversation comes to a stand-still. Now that you’re not sure what else to say and he doesn’t seem too keen on entertaining more questions, you wait for that awkward tension to settle between you but it never comes.

It’s just… quiet. Except for the sound of your breathing as you ponder explanations for why your heart is pounding that doesn’t have to do with the man sitting across from you, still engrossed in your sketches.

It’d be nice if he gave you an indication that he was interested in doing anything besides this and kissing you, but you suppose the fact that he accepted your invitation to shower instead of just fucking you in the foyer and hitting the road again is indicative of he can now at least stand being in your presence.

“So, fixing cars makes you enough to gamble a few million won away at an illegal poker ring? All in one night?”

He glances at you with a glare, flipping another page. “Okay, smart ass. What do you think I do?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you pretend to think. “Sell stuff.” He doesn’t look at you, a slight down tick at the corner of his mouth.

“Stuff.”

“Substances?” Narcotics is the word you want to say, but don’t. Scrutinizing another drawing, impassiveness covers his face.

“And would you have a problem with that?”

“Do I seem like I would have a problem with that?” His attention flits to you for a small moment and then stays down.

His silence is enough to say that he doesn’t want to talk any more about it and you won’t press him even though you’re a nosy little shit because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. But you do want to let him know that you’re not one to judge.

If he is a dealer, you know just how easy it is to get into but so much harder to get out of.

“Well, whatever it is, shit’s tough out here, and sometimes we gotta do what we gotta do, y’know?”

He doesn’t say anything after that and so you let it go. But there’s still something else on your mind.

“Can I ask another question?”

“No,” he deadpans, and you ignore him.

“What was your plan after you dropped me off?”

He brings your book to the edge of the table and sits back in the chair.

“I was gonna go to a sauna, but I forgot I gave the rest of my cash to the cab driver.”

Your brow quirks inquisitively. “Cab? Weren’t you just on a motorcycle?”

Whole body stilling, he focuses on nothing for a moment before quietly grumbling,

“I paid him so he’d tell me where he took you.”

You gawk at him as everything sinks in. A ring of promise glows around the surface of your heart when you realize he went out of his way to find you.

To look out for you. To protect you. And expected nothing in return. Despite the fact that you kissed him, showed him you wanted more, he didn’t try to invite himself up. Just took off into the night without looking back. Like he didn’t just save your life. Like you don’t owe him for fucking stabbing someone for you.

“You really came looking for me,” you marvel. “Why?”

His jaw clenches, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“I don’t have to answer that.” Ugh, he’s so fucking difficult, with this wall around him that you desperately want to infiltrate.

“You and your attitude,” you scoff. “What’s your problem?”

When he doesn’t respond, you reach over to pull your sketchbook out of his grasp, slamming it closed on the table. You repeat your question with a harsh glare and he returns it with equal intensity.

“You,” he admits darkly, eyes hardened. “You are my problem.”

“Then what are you doing here?” His lips pull into a line and he stares at his flat hand on the table. You sit back again, dejected fingers rubbing over your sketchbook, watching him refuse to look at you.

You stand up before your brain gives the command, feet gliding around the table, heart pounding with each step, and end up next to his chair. He stares up at you with a pinch between his brows as you nudge your knee against his, and even though he looks confused, he turns away from the table to give you more room to stand in between his legs. Jet lag be damned, you dip a knuckle under his chin, holding his head up. His pupils on you are so dark, more than they’ve been all night as he doesn’t blink.

You can’t tell if he’s nervous, or scared, or upset, or a combination, similar to the complexity running in your veins.

“You’re the annoying one.” You stick a knee next to his hip, a hand on his shoulder, a pretense to lowering yourself into his lap. He cocks a brow.

“You can’t even tell me you want me.”

“You think I came back for what? A hot shower?” He says it so sarcastically, you almost laugh.

“Yeah, and a place to stay,” you murmur, resisting the temptation to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear.

“I would’ve figured something else out. Not my first time with nowhere to go.”

You frown at the thought of him being stuck in places where he wasn’t comfortable. Or safe. Even if he only came back so he wouldn’t end up spending a night in the rain, you would let him stay. You might put him up on the floor but at least he’d be inside.

When he doesn’t say a word, your other hand falls on his shoulders to finally settle yourself in his lap. his chest heaving in a deep breath. As you sit over his crotch, his hands flex, but remain dangling off the arms of the chair. Your eyes fall to the chains glinting on his pale chest and you hook a finger around the diamonds, lifting the small circular pendant, noticing a tiny inscription. You glance at him, silently asking for permission to study it. He just stares so you take that as a yes and lift it to get a closer look.

For my sonja, MYG

A soft smile on your lips, you drop the pendant and trail down to the tags that sit on his sternum and examine the carved information.

Huh. You have the same blood type.

“Are you dangerous, Min Yoongi?” The question pours out of your mouth, testing out his full name on your tongue. He squints at you with mirth.

“It’s a little late to ask that.”

Shrugging, your thumb runs over the metal tags, waiting for his answer.

“I’m not a stalker or a serial killer. Good enough?” It should be. But you have to be sure.

“If you wanted to hurt me, you would’ve done it by now, right?”

A few beats of silence pass, and vines of trepidation for his truth start to creep up your spine. But then warm, calloused yet soft hands coast up the sides of your thighs to rest on your hips. The vines spark with flames, traveling over every cell of your skin, ignited by his simple touch. Trepidation becomes suspense.

“I don’t hurt people who don’t deserve it.”

The implication should scare you. That he hurts people. Maybe even does it for a living. But you know, peering deeply into his dark, brown eyes, that he isn’t a threat to you.

He stabbed someone right in front of you, and instead of being afraid like you should’ve been, you ran away with him. In the middle of the street, soaked to the bone with piercing rain, you grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him like your life depended on it.

And you’re about to do it again.

Lifting your hand to cup his cheek, your heart dips when he flinches away, ever so slightly. What the fuck has this man been through? You drop it back on his shoulder, smooth it slowly, daringly, down to his left pec, fingers under his robe. Your breath hitches when you feel how strong his chest is, throat tightening when your palm radiates with the fast rate of his heartbeat.

Too fast to be normal. Too fast to hide that he’s affected by you.

“Do you want me?” you whisper, voice scared of rejection. His jaw ticks, his hands moving to your waist, pressing you forward and down on the solid erection forming beneath you. You gasp.

He grits his next words through clenched teeth, like it’s hard for him to say them.

“I wanted you the second you sat down at that goddamn poker table.”

Just like that moment in the rain, before you got on his bike and held onto him while he drove you into safety, you don’t think before crashing your lips onto his. He opens his mouth to welcome your tongue, and you lick over it with meaning.

The two of you set in motion a greedy and lascivious rhythm of sloppy tongues and experimental grinding hips. His fingers curl into the plush of your ass, encouraging the roll of your center over his erection, ruining your shorts with arousal. He sucks on your bottom lip, moaning when your hand sneaks into his lap and boldly squeezes his twitching length.

“If I suck your dick, are you gonna leave me on the floor again?” you challenge over his mouth.

He pulls away with a frown and a cross in his brows as he looks at you silently expecting some kind of an apology. But he doesn’t even open his swollen mouth, just pushes at your waist until you stand up from his lap, and before you can question what he’s doing, he kisses you again, gripping your waist as he walks you back to the bed. Hands slipping up to your ribcage, he lowers you down, heart hammering to the surface of your chest as he holds himself above you, one hand on your side, the other pressing into the comforter next to your head. 

Warmth pools in your belly as his chains fall in between your breasts, then slide to rest on the base of your throat. You smile in between his lips, lifting a hand to tangle in the links.

“You better not break my jewelry,” he utters, tongue nudging your bottom lip to encourage your mouth open, and without opening your eyes or breaking from his enticing mouth, you grab his hand and encourage it towards your breast, shirt covering your pert nipple.

He softly squeezes a handful of your tit and you arch into him with a moan, his lips between yours curving up in a smug smile. Kissing you once, twice, he drags his mouth down your jaw, to your neck that you strain so he can bruise and bite at your skin. You curse when he moves to mouth over your clothed tit, gently pulling your nipple between his teeth to test out your reaction. You bite your lip with a moan and reach up to curl your fingers in his hair, squirming when he flattens his tongue over the tiny sting.

“So sensitive,” he smizes, cocksure. He laps at your tit once more before nosing down, fingers bunching up your shirt to reveal your stomach, moan escaping you when his lips graze your bare skin.

“Is this supposed to be an apology?”

He shrugs and you roll your eyes as he stands to drag down your sweats, your lungs constricting with every inch of skin he unveils. You know he already fucked you, knows what your pussy feels like, but he hasn’t seen you yet and your cheeks heat at the thought of baring your everything to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy,” he muses when your legs close in their bent form after he fully removes your sweats, tossing them back onto one of the chairs.

You shake your head in denial, but your eyes that refuse to open, refuse to see him staring at you, say otherwise.

“Where’s that dirty girl who wanted to get fucked in a closet by a stranger?”

“Don’t you mean slut?”

“Fine,” he smirks. “Bring back the dirty slut who practically begged me to fuck her in that closet.”

“Sure, as long as you don’t act like a prick anymore.”

Smirk falling, he averts his eyes, tilting his head to the side as his hand smoothes over your lower stomach, fingers dipping into the hem of your-

“Cute panties.”

“They’re shorts.”

“You call these shorts?” He snaps the fabric strained around your thighs. “Leaves little to the imagination.”

“Well, that’s good for you, right? Aren’t you too old to have an imagination?” He quirks a brow, lifts his head to level you with an entertained gaze.

“Says who?”

“Society,” you shrug, and he exhales an unamused huff.

“Wow, good argument. You should sign up for a debate team.”

“I was actually on one in school.”

“So why aren’t you any good?”

“Oh, shut up!” You admonish, and he snickers. If you really think about it, it’s crazy how easy it is to fall into conversation with him like this. And incredibly insane how it does really funny things to your heart.

A stuttered gasp pours from your lips when he cups your heat, rubbing his flattened fingers back and forth. You hiss when he pokes over your covered hole, panties/shorts soaked with your arousal.

“Damn, you get so wet for me,” he muses, tongue poking past his teeth as he pulls your panties to the side. Fuck, just that movement alone is enough to put a flutter in your stomach.

“A little grinding on my lap is all it takes, huh? Or do you just really like being called a slut?”

“Screw you.” His dark chuckle shamefully turning you on, he pulls back his fingers to circle feather-light around your clit. You pull your lips in and shut your eyes to lock away a moan. “We’re getting to that.” His hands slide under your ass, eyes trained on you as he pulls off your garment, and you take a deep breath when he pushes your legs apart.

“Scoot up.” With his hands holding your thighs, you wiggle your way back until your head nears the edge of the mattress, lust coursing through your blood as he lays down in between your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your bare cunt. You relax into the soft comforter as he starts off with dragging his lips on the inside of your thigh, humming as he goes along, and arousal builds at the vibrations on your skin. Glancing down at the appealing sight of his head between your legs, you’re tempted again to run your fingers through his soft locks.

“You could really use a root touch-up,” you think out loud. He huffs, breath hitting a spot on your thigh where he was sucking a small mark.

“Ah, hell. Can you be quiet?”

“Just saying.” He clicks his tongue. 

As you break out into a laugh, your expression drops when his dark eyes fixate on you and he spits, loudly, right on your hole before dragging his tongue in a thorough, languid lick through your folds. Back arching with a moan, your hand flies into his hair, pulling a low growl from his throat. He pauses at your clit, nose nudging it before he sucks in a breath, tightens his hold around your thighs, and buries his face in your pussy.

He consumes you, flicking his tongue in some places and slurping in others, going back to the ones that you respond to more - it’s like you just served your pussy to him on a gold fucking platter and he’s savoring you like it’s his last meal.

Fingers tangled in his soft, damp locks, you use your other hand to stifle your whines that he’s drawing out with his expert tongue.

“Don’t hold back for me, dollface,” he insists over your clit. “You can’t get us caught this time.”

Resolve crumbling, you barely register the fact that he called you ‘dollface’ as your hand smacks onto the comforter and unrestrained, needy moans fill the room. He grunts in response and your trembling thighs squeeze around his head as he latches onto your clit, suckling and licking to add fire to the flame in your gut.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” you whimper, muscles tensing as the impending snap looms closer.

“Mm, say my name just like that,” he purrs, tongue flicking on your clit.

“You mean you want me to?” You antagonize, not entirely brain dead yet. “After all that grief you gave me about-”

He suddenly draws back, forcing you to groan at the orgasm he just snatched away, hips involuntarily chasing after his mouth.

“Say my fucking name,” he demands.

“Do something that will-”

His mouth wraps around your clit and he starts sucking in rapid motions, not stopping even as you writhe and squirm with pathetic cries, strong arms immobilizing your thighs.

“Yoongi- Yoongi, please!” you shriek, coming with another wanton wail of his name, gripping his roots, and a low, rough growl licks into your pulsing cunt.

Vision blurring with tears as he continues his assault on your clit, you sob at the threat of overstimulation, pushing at his head until he detaches. He kisses your dripping slit one more time just to have you jolt and curse, and then finally lets you catch your breath.

“You got a condom?” he asks after your blood pressure has simmered down to a somewhat normal level and you can comprehend your own thoughts again.

“Um, no?” you rasp, glancing down to his slick mouth and chin. “I thought you had those on deck.”

“I used my last one.”

“When?” You manage to joke. He glares at you through his bangs, shaking his head, and you don’t do well to hold back a laugh. “Oh. Bummer.”

He sighs, and then dots kisses through your folds before latching onto your clit again. Pumping his long fingers into your cunt this time, he gets a little lazy, but it doesn’t make it any less sensational. You lose count of how many times you come but you’re sweating and dripping and just a mess by the time you pass out.

You wake up on your stomach feeling heavy, but so, so good. Lifting your head, you look around, wondering what year it is. You’re still in the same spot you fell asleep in, but there’s a robe laid over you, covering your lower half. Over your shoulder, Yoongi is back at the table, scrolling through his plugged-in phone, and you silently thank the universe that you weren’t just dreaming him up. Because that would be devastating.

Rolling over, you slowly sit up and shift towards the edge of the bed, legs feeling like jelly before you even put any weight on them. You stand up with the robe and nearly lose your balance.

“You alright?” his gravelly voice carries across the room.

“I think I almost died,” you admit as you walk around the bed, rubbing your eyes. He smirks at his phone, looking a little too proud of himself. “How long was I out?”

“Like an hour?”

“Shit, I’m sorry. That jet lag really got to me.”

“Jet lag, huh?” He frowns and you playfully roll your eyes.

“You can take the credit for knocking me out.”

You walk away from his cocky grin to head for the bathroom.

After doing your business and admiring the subtle marks he left on the inside of your thighs, you realize how exhausted you are. From the plane, from all the events of the day, from your however-many orgasms, and you should be spent, ready to sleep like a rock through the night.

And yet, there’s a hunger gnawing in your chest. A greed in your gut. He gratified you beyond your imagination, and you still haven’t gotten your fill. But he ran out of fucking condoms.

You wrap the robe around your waist as you head back to the table, avoiding his gaze as you squat over your duffle.

Rummaging through it, you know a condom isn’t going to be anywhere in there no matter how badly you want there to be. Damn it. Are you that desperate? For that man, with that devilish tongue and monster in his pants? Hell fuckin’ yeah.

“You looking for something?”

“Oh, uh, I forgot to pack a toothbrush,” you stutter, tucking back a piece of your hair as you rise. “Do you think we can go to the convenience store? It’s only a couple miles away.”

“It’s kinda late.”

“It’s open all night.”

“Fine,” he sighs, standing and taking his used towels to the bathroom, shoulder just barely brushing yours as he passes you.

When both of you are changed, he lingers in the doorway of the bathroom where you’re standing in front of the sink, fixing yourself up in the mirror, and you don’t anticipate him to step in and appear mere inches behind you. You watch him fix his mussed hair, not sparing your reflection a single glance. Without the mirror, you’re not sure if you would’ve even noticed his stealth presence unless he touched you. You can’t even hear him breathing. And it makes you shiver. Just as nervousness sprouts at his proximity, you twist around to make an escape, immediately regretting it when you come face-to-face with his devastatingly handsome face and dark eyes that dart down to your lips. On pure impulse, you reach up to tussle his hair and scurry away as he turns around with a sharp, “Hey!”

Next to the front door, his glare sears into you as you lean down to put on your shoes, laughing when he nudges you so that you lose your balance. You guess you deserve that.

***

He parked his bike near some bushes in front of a stone wall farthest away from the main lot of the hotel, close to the ocean. You can’t help but skip towards it, excited to go on a ride again. When you reach it and glance back to see that he’s still catching up, you impulsively swing your leg over and settle into the leather seat.

“What are you doing?” he asks as he approaches you with a glare. You shoot him a sheepish grin over your shoulder.

“Can I drive?”

“That’s something you ask before you get on the bike.”

“Oh. Well, can I?” With a shake of his head, he sighs and you half-expect him to scold you off, but instead he grabs the helmet resting on the rear seat and holds it out to you.

“Put this on first.” Pressing your warming cheek into your shoulder to hide your shy smile, you reach back and accept it, slipping it on. He looks reluctant as he slides onto the seat behind you and you twist forward, a throb rushing down your spine when his hands slide onto your hips and he adjusts himself to sit pressed lightly against you. He leans forward and you’re encased by him as he sticks the key into the ignition, shows you the switch that will bring the bike to life by tapping it twice, hand returning to your hip once you turn it and the engine rumbles alive loudly, vibrating beneath you.

Revving the handlebars, exhilaration flows into your veins as you look down at all the specs on the dashboard.

“You know how to ride, right?” He mumbles into your ear, sounding skeptical. You smirk.

“Remember what happened the last time you misjudged me?” Before he gets a chance to respond, you grasp his hand and pull it around to your stomach.

“Hold on tight,” you say in the lowest pitched voice you can muster in a poor attempt at imitating him from earlier in the night. He sighs and moves his other arm around your waist, and just as your heart starts to beat out of your chest, you kick back the stand, find your balance on the pedals, and rev the engine before taking off down the road, secretly wishing this road stretched on forever.

His fingers curl into your covered skin, presses his chest into your back and it encourages you to lean forward and go faster. You go a little too fast, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give you any indication that you should slow down. And when you arch your back, the hard length poking your ass tells you that he doesn’t mind the speed at all.

You pull up to the convenience store in under five minutes, the parking lot empty and Yoongi tells you to park it off to the side. 

“I think you liked that more than I did,” you say after hopping off the bike. He stays in the seat as you remove the helmet and hold it out, grinning up at him.

“You like it when a girl rides your bike, Min Yoongi?” You lilt teasingly, the biggest shit-eating grin on your face clashing with his fierce glare.

“Go get your shit, you brat,” he grumbles, teeth gritted.

“You’re not coming?” You glance down at the glaring problem in the front of his jeans. “Oh, I guess you need a minute.”

His lip curls and he digs his foot into the pebbled asphalt, making you leap away with a giggle when he kicks a small pile at you.

Walking backwards, you blow him a kiss, laughing your way into the store when he returns it with a middle finger. A smile remains on your face as you start looking around for the toothbrush you lied about not having. At one point you realize that your cheeks hurt from still smiling. Is that the effect he has on you? It’s been a minute since a man, (or anyone, really) has made you smile like this.

Perusing the aisles for some midnight snacks, the doorbell chimes and when the cashier offers a monotone welcome, you perch up on your tiptoes to spot a black beanie making its way to the opposite corner of the store.

As you lean into a fridge for some drinks, he steps up into your periphery, and you take a quick glance, smiling at the bandana that’s wrapped around his face again.

“You want anything?” He shakes his head and you sigh, closing the door and turning around with a hand on your hip.

“Can you not be difficult for once and just pick something? Because I don’t share.”

He steps up to you. “I know you’re not calling me difficult.”

“I am.” You challenge, unintimidated despite being nearly nose to nose. “Get something.”

Keeping his glare on you, he reaches into the fridge and pulls an item out to drop it into the basket. You roll your eyes at the fact that he didn’t even look at it and grab a few more of what he picked, letting the door slam shut.

You pinch the bandana and give it a few gentle tugs, getting right in his face. “Is this what you stuffed in my mouth earlier?”

“Yes. And I’m tempted to do it again.”

“Ooh, kinky.”

“Maybe I just want to shut you up.”

“There’s more than one way to do that.” His dark eyes flash.

“Keep it moving.”

He lingers behind you as you finish shopping, but disappears once you head to the checkout. When he comes up behind you and casually tosses something on the counter next to your snacks waiting to be scanned, your whole face floods with heat as you stare at the box of condoms. A 12-pack. Large. You gulp, and the flush seeps down to your toes. This is what you came for, but a flood of embarrassment streams into you at the thought that he planned the same thing, or he caught onto you. To offset some of the flood, you swipe the box and hold it up to him.

“Don’t you need these in a smaller size?”

His eyes flicker up but he doesn’t look at you. Just turns and walks away, leaving you to fight down a laugh. Glancing back at the cashier, you’re grateful that her face hasn’t changed, even as she rings up the condoms. She could probably care less if you robbed the whole store.

Rushing out to the empty parking lot, you’re met with the loud revving of the Ducati and the sight of Yoongi wearing his helmet, looking over his shoulder at you through the open visor.

“Min Yoongi, don’t you dare leave me here!” you yell, stopping in your tracks when he flips down the visor, throws up a peace sign and zooms onto the street.

Your jaw drops. That. JERK! He can’t be serious. You run out to the end of the lot, looking up and down the empty stretch of road but he’s nowhere in sight, just the descendo of the engine hanging in the air.

The engine grows louder and he zips by you, sitting straight, one hand on the throttle, the other in the air, pointing a finger at you. Is he… laughing? It’s your turn to flip him off and you almost scream his name again when he suddenly pulls a sharp u-turn and heads back your way. You don’t expect it, but you’re incredibly impressed as he starts drifting in wide circles around you, his leg coming down to balance himself as the bike sharply turns, showcasing just how experienced he is and fuck if that isn’t attractive. And he knows exactly what he’s doing. Turning you on. But you pretend to be unbothered, crossing your arms as if this dangerous man on this dangerous bike isn’t looping around you like a vulture honing in on its prey.

“Are you done?” you tilt your head once he skids to a stop a few feet away in front of you, ignoring the ringing in your ears caused by his incessant drifting.

He switches off the engine and leans up, flipping the visor to reveal the top part of his face, arms dropping and crossing.

“Are you?” His dark muffled voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“What?”

“Done making a fool out of me.” Blowing a raspberry, you walk up to him, set the bag behind him with a wide grin.

“I don’t think you need me to do that.” He stares at you over his shoulder for a second before twisting around to grab the handlebars and just as he turns the ignition, your hand halts him by his elbow.

“You’re not gonna leave again.”

“Then get on.”

You watch, mesmerized, as he takes off the helmet and runs fingers through his hair, casually holding it over his shoulder for you to take.

This feels better, sitting behind him, arms around his waist, head between his shoulder blades so you can watch the trees lining the road and spot lights of the street lamps go by in a blur.

Alive. You feel so fucking alive. The danger of riding on this bike, trusting this man with your life once again. Stretching out your arm, you let the wind fly freely through your fingers, helmet blocking your periphery from catching the turn of his head for a few seconds before focusing back on the road.

He parks the bike in the same spot as before and you get off and return the helmet.

“Usually when guys go out of their way to show off like you did, they’re trying to compensate for something. Just letting you know.”

He looks at you with night in his eyes as he steps up in front of you, peering directly into your soul, and the pit of your stomach rolls with heat.

“You know damn well that I don’t have anything to compensate for,” he says slyly, eyes flickering to yours in a way that enthralls you. Oh, this cocky bastard. If only he wasn’t so fucking right.

“Or maybe you need to be reminded.”

“Isn’t that why you got these?” you ask, shaking the bag in his face.

“I also need to restock my wallet.”

You scoff, pointing at yourself. “And I’m the slut?”

He grins and your cheeks heat when he just stares for a moment, then takes off in the direction of the hotel without another word.

**

As you reach the stairs of the building to your room, he stops and you turn to him looking down to the stretch of neatly tailored lawn sitting across from the buildings, a few tables and chairs with closed umbrellas spread out in front of the stone wall, the dark ocean a pretty view from afar.

“It’s about to rain, so I’m gonna go smoke. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I come?”

“No.” He turns away and your heart cries to go after him, like some clingy, ankle-biting dog.

Stopping after a few steps, he looks back at you pouting and tilts his head.

“Don’t you do what you want anyway?” The dark night can’t hide your bright smile as you bound up to him.

He settles on the table closest to the short-stacked stone wall, wiping off the seat with the end of his sleeve before sitting down and taking out a box of cigarettes and a lighter from his jacket pocket. You want nothing more than to sit in his lap again, and, thankfully, there’s an old spot of something white and dirty on the opposite chair that the rain didn’t wash away.

So without warning, you approach him and ignore his repeated look of confusion as you invite yourself into his lap again with an arm around his neck.

“Um, there’s a chair over there.”

“It has bird shit on it,” you reply simply, adjusting yourself to sit sideways, legs hung over his knees. His arms hover in the air.

“So?”

“Would you sit there?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

Disregarding the click of his tongue, you lean over to try and snatch away his cigarette, but he holds it up out of your reach.

“This is my last cigarette and you already owe me one.” You sigh indignantly and lean back against the armrest, gawking as he pats the box against his palm to discharge the final cigarette, crushing the cardboard as he lifts the stick to hang loosely between his lips. He fires it up with an attractive flick of the lighter and cup of his hand around the end, sucking in a drag and letting the stick sit between his teeth as he pockets the empty box and lighter. Smoke filters out of the corner of his mouth as he removes the cigarette with two fingers, blowing the stench to the side, away from you. A string tugs from your heart at the considerate gesture. You redirect your attention to the design on the front of his jacket, grabbing the side to inspect it more closely.

“Is this a tiger?”

“Mhmm.” Is his response, tone disinterested as he flicks ash. Some falls on your thigh and he lightly brushes it away. His touch burns.

“Your favorite animal?” He shakes his head, still doesn’t look at you, blows more smoke away.

“It’s just a design.”

As you watch him smoke, the cigarette slowly withering, he lifts his hips to reach into the back pocket of his jeans, crotch rubbing the back of your knees, making your thighs squeeze together. He multitasks checking his phone and taking a drag, a frown appearing at something he does or doesn’t see on his screen. A thought occurs to you that creates a sinkhole in your chest.

“Are you expecting a call from your girlfriend or something?”

“Why, would that piss you off?” He remarks in a mocking tone, and you start to get up but his arm around your waist and a throaty chuckle traps you in place.

“I wouldn’t have fucked you if I had one. I would’ve still wanted to, but I do have a bit of self control over here.”

“You? A man? Self-control?”

“We’re not all disgusting pigs,” he mutters.

“Well, you’re a rare breed.” Lifting his head mid-drag, his eyebrows raise, a subtle smirk on the corner of his lips.

“So I bet you feel real lucky you met me.”

“Is your- oh wow, look at that,” you pretend to muse, putting your hands up to the side of his head as if measuring it. “Your head’s getting bigger. Not a good look for you.”

With a roll of his eyes, he waves your hands away, unlocks his phone to scroll through his messages that hold no new notifications. Staring at his screen, the desire to have your number and thread on there increases, a lump forming in your throat, unsure if you should cross into that boundary.

“No girlfriend,” he assures you, locking his phone to let it fall face down in his lap. “I’m checking to see if my deposit came through. I’m shit broke until then.”

Your eyes rove over his side profile, going back to that scene in the poker room, how blankly yet confidently he slid all of his chips into the center of the bet, thinking he had the winning hand.

“I could tell you’re a pro at poker, why did you put so much at risk?”

He sighs and looks away, staring across the compound as he takes another drag.

“Because you really sucked at first, and I thought you were just some dumb, overzealous kid who didn’t know what she was doing playing with the big boys like that. But you’re good, Angel. Too good, and I fell for it.”

“You’re the dummy,” your tone is soft, touched by his genuine admission and acknowledgement of your skills. You press a finger into his temple and push a little. He leans away with a small smile.

“I know.”

The ocean is dark and covered in white-caps, brewing in preparation for the storm. Listening to the waves crashing down below, you think back to your musings in the shower.

“Maybe I owe you for stabbing a dude for me.” Wind blows in your direction as he peers at you unsurely.

“I’m no hero.”

You shrug. “I just want to pay you back for going through all of that trouble.”

“Wouldn’t it make me a prick to take your money for something like that?”

“Not if I’m offering it.”

As you wait for him to argue, your phone buzzes in your hoodie and you quickly pull it out, anxiety flashing when ‘biggest bro’ flashes on the call screen.

“Oh, hang on, sorry, my brother’s calling.” You clamber out of his lap and stand, answering when you’re a few feet away.

“Hey,” you say quietly, somewhat relieved to finally hear from Jin. Even though if he knew where you were, he wouldn’t be. “What are you doing calling me on my regular cell?”

“Well, honey, I haven’t heard from you otherwise and oh, I don’t know. Wanted to make sure you’re still alive. Is that okay? How were your summer classes?”

You smile, start pacing in front of the stone wall. “I barely survived, but I made it out. And I’ve made a lot of progress on my project ideas.”

“That’s good to hear, kiddo. Send me some pictures of your designs one of these days. Any other good news you want to tell your big brother?”

“Like what?”

“Hmm. Like are you seeing any booooooys you might want to bring home some day?”

You cringe, a bit spooked by your brother’s 6th sense for knowing everything that goes on in your life. You spare a quick glance to the boy sitting behind you on his phone, turning your back to him just as he looks up at you, and walk a little further away.

“Like you’d approve of them,” you grumble. You’re sure as shit he wouldn’t approve of that man, especially if he found out about your little tryst in a fucking cleaning closet, at an illegal gambling ring no less. What Jin doesn’t know won’t kill him.

“Well, not if they’re jerks!”

“I could bring home a literal prince, and you and bro would interrogate him like he was threatening national security.”

He laughs. “Oh, come on. You know I want you to find someone nice who makes you happy.”

“How can I do that if I move around every eight months?” you ask defensively, that bitterness for your situation enforced onto you by him and your father bubbling to the surface. “I don’t think I’m gonna meet anyone who’d want to be with me like that.”

Silence hangs over the line. “You never know.”

You roll your eyes. He underestimates the kind of men that are around everywhere you go. They barely want to stay the night, much less follow you to the ends of the earth. You feel a prick of wonder if the man whose eyes you can feel on your back would.

“Well, either way, I’m too busy to date. Maybe I’ll have to wait to move back home to settle down,” you rush out, eager to put an end to this topic. “Speaking of which, do you think I can come back to see bro for his birthday?”

You can sense through another bout of Jin’s prolonged silence a big ‘No.’

“It’s not a good idea, honey. Not right now, he’s not doing well.” Jin takes a deep breath. “He almost relapsed.”

Your heart drops and you have to squat to combat the nausea filling your gut.

“That just makes me want to come home even more.”

“He doesn’t want you seeing him like this.”

Your palm lands against your forehead. “So what, am I just never going to get to see either of you again? Like I’m just gonna go the rest of my life living abroad? Do you know how much I hate the idea of that?”

Dead air meets the line again and you stand, suddenly overwhelmed by the notion that he might never let you.

“We’ll talk more about that when you finish with school, I want you to focus on your studies. Don’t worry about your brother, he’ll be alright.”

You do worry. You worry so much about him, sometimes you can’t sleep at night. You almost tell Jin that you’re in Jeju, that you could take a flight home tomorrow and just see them real quick but you have a feeling he would be less than enthusiastic and might turn it into a whole lecture about how irresponsible it is for you to fly back home unannounced. Among other things.

“Whatever.” You peek back to where Yoongi’s staring at his dark screen.

“Hey, don’t be like that, okay? This is just something we-” But you’re over this. There’s no point in arguing with him. He never lets you win.

“Sorry, I’m gonna go now.”

“Honey, I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not,” you lie in a grumble. “I’m kind of with someone, so I should probably get back.”

“Oh?” his tone changes to curiosity. Oops. “Who is this ‘someone’?”

“A friend. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Hmm, alright,” he sounds unconvinced. “Well, be safe, you hear? And don’t let me go this long without hearing from you unless you want me to go gray with worry.”

“Don’t you already dye your hair?”

“Yah, you little punk! I’ll get you back for that one.”

“Sure you will. I’m hanging up now. Love you. Tell bro I love him too and that it wouldn’t hurt to call me once in a while.”

“I will. Love you too, honey. Call me in a couple days.”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, says bye, and waits for you to hang up.

Dropping the phone from your ear, you stare at it while contemplating whether or not you should call Jungkook, but turn and head for Yoongi when you doubt he would even pick up.

You sit back down on his lap like it has your name on it. He huffs in annoyance but still wraps his arm around your waist and rests his hand holding the nearly finished cigarette on your knee.

“Does your brother usually call this late?” he queries, voice soft and a touch hesitant.

“Now who’s being nosy?”

“You eavesdropped on me earlier!” You smile, stretching your arm on the back of the chair.

“He thinks I’m still abroad.”

“Are you supposed to be?”

“Mhmm. I was gonna go home and surprise my other brother for his birthday, but turns out that would be a bad idea.”

“Damn, two brothers? That’s gotta be tough.”

“Yeah, they’re both older. And annoying as fuck.”

“So you get it from them.” You can’t argue with that.

“Why’s it a bad idea to go home?” he asks softly after a stretch of quietude, waves crashing in the distant background. Your cheek turns to look at him, mildly bewildered, his eyes flitting between you and the ground.

“Are you trying to get to know me or something?” you deflect. Because that’s not a can of worms you really want to open right now.

“No, just making conversation.” He shrugs, a pout on his lips that mirrors the one that appeared when he told you his name.

“You didn’t want to do that earlier.”

“Fucks’ sake,” he mutters under his breath, ducking his head to lift the cigarette. “It’s easier for you to just call me a fucking jerk.”

“You’re a fucking jerk.” He chuckles while taking a drag, exhaling smoke through his nostrils.

“And I’m trying not to be one right now, okay?”

“Well, don’t wear yourself out.”

“You’re gonna do that for me when we go back in, right?” He cheekily winks, demeanor doing a 180, and you mimic being annoyed but really you’re imagining all the ways you could do just that.

“Y’know, you have a really good libido for such an old man.”

His smirk flips to a scowl and when you laugh at his disdain, he pushes at your waist, a little harder than you think he meant to because you end up slipping off of his lap and onto the ground with a surprised squeal.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaims, reaching down for you as you groan in mild pain from your ass falling on the hard, wet lawn. You glare up at him when he visibly can’t hold back his amusement while he tries to grab your elbows to help you up but you only slap his hands away.

“I didn’t mean to push you.” He’s still laughing when you manage to get up and walk away but he grabs your wrist and you look back to see him throwing down his cigarette, a grin on his face as he doesn’t let you out of his grip.

“Hey, c’mere.”

“No,” you mumble stubbornly.

“Is your ass okay?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.”

“Get lost.”

“No.”

He tugs you close and smirks now that you’re speechless, hands daring to go lower, waiting for you to have a problem, but you don’t, just allow him to glide his large palms to your ass.

“Feels okay to me.” He gives a squeeze and even though heat creeps down into your gut at the lust pooling in his eyes, you put your hands on his chest and push. He steps back with a grin and lunges after you with a hand on your elbow, laughing lowly when you playfully fight him off but he doesn’t let go.

Then a bolt of lightning strikes the atmosphere, freezing you in place, and he steps up next to you, unphased as you wait for the impending clap of thunder. Rain cascades from above and you both look up to the sky, droplets falling on your faces as you stare at the night darkened by the fast moving storm clouds. Your eyes lock and you share a look that reflects something you can’t describe - A boom shakes the world around you, nerves jumping and driving you to take off back towards the hotel, not realizing until you look over your shoulder that Yoongi’s hand is in yours as he runs behind you, a wild smile on his face.

Just as you reach the stairs, you glance down with wide eyes at both of your empty hands.

“I left the bag!” you exclaim, flinching as lightning flashes again. He looks over the distance you just crossed and jogs back over without hesitation or urgency despite the heavy winds.

Hugging yourself as you shiver under the onslaught of stinging rain, you silently beg him to hurry up as he strides back over to overshadow you, staring down with a furrow between his brows and a blink at your lips. Even though you want to interpret the way he’s looking at you through his wet bangs sticking on his face, you want to get the fuck out of the storm but as soon as your foot turns to dart up the stairs, his hand curls around the back of your neck and pulls you forward until you’re up on your toes. Pulse stuttering and eyebrows rising in shock and awe as his mouth collides with yours, you’re rendered still and breathless as he steps up to press your drenched bodies together, kissing you fervently, tipping your head up for a better angle. Storm water pours between you, and you both taste it after his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, droplets rolling down his face and into your mouth and you drink it up along with the taste of him. You don’t know what’s gotten into this man, but whatever it is, you’re living for it. You just wish, in this moment, you weren’t in the middle of a storm having the life kissed out of you.

“We’re gonna catch a cold if we keep making out in the rain,” you murmur, lips still brushing his.

“You can’t get sick just from some rain,” he retorts. You roll your eyes and tip up to kiss him chastely before twisting around to run up the stairs, not looking back as you shakily unlock the door. When his presence emerges behind you, a nervous smile breaks out on your face as you finally turn the key. The sky roars again, forcing out a laugh of adrenaline as you barrel into the door to hastily get inside.

.

.

.

Thank you so much for reading!! This is a terrible place to cut off but I had to split this into another part I'm sorry this chapter is taking a lot out of me and I started a new job so I'm dealing with the adjustment.

prelude part 3 will be out soon so we can move on lol. And it will be mostly smut 😅 and some yoongi pov

Comment or send an ask if you enjoyed reading and/or if you want to be added to the taglist!! (Pls have some indication on your blog that you are an adult or I will not add you!)

Feedback is appreciated - I’d love to know your thoughts!! And i love to yap in general lol

xxx - claret

masterlist

taglist:

@polarnightmyg @mar-lo-pap @wonh0oe @lixies-favorite-cookie @viankiss @futuristicenemychaos @busanbby-jjk @jajabro

[buttercupcd]

everything is still the same

:•|

[ehlnofay]

you should all come to australia. not because it's a particularly good place to visit it's just my place and I like it

[phagodyke]

yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...

[bubble-you]

desperately hugging you after not seeing you for 15+ months as if my body remembered that the thought of this hug had comforted me when i felt cold and imagining helped me feel safe, helped me feel warm, helped me sleep, and still helps me sleep sometimes. is it no wonder i let my mind fantasise about you in a different way now? i don't wish that ever comes out in any interaction with you. but, i know any desire to stay in, develop, and grow that social club will just be an excuse to be around you. i want being there to feel as safe as the imaginary you makes me feel. i do wish you were mine, but i know you were made by hands warmer than mine, and time. someone who was mine, and my age, made by me, would not be of your quality of gold. if i want you, or someone like you, i have no choice but to start by knowing myself better, even if i don't really want to. i guess i have to want to.

[schadenfreudich]

I know what it's referring to but "gewichst" doesn't sound like "the place is polished/waxed" to me, it sounds like "the place was jerked off".

[oculusxcaro]

Khare can tolerate a lot of smells but the ones she can't handle is the smell of death and decay. Too many people died in the facility, mutated beyond recognition or dying slow, painful deaths as their bodies couldn't handle the experimentation they were forced to undergo, making those scents uniquely repulsive to her.

[sameteeth]

the urgentcare im at is showing timelapses of waves and sunsets which is making me imagine some person just very patiently sitting and watching these for hours on end. or at least having to sit thru these to quality check everything

[incognit0slut]

Permanent attachment

in which you’re far too comfortable to move from Spencer’s lap, and he doesn’t mind carrying you around

content: fluff, 1.7k, established relationship, lots of kissing, sex talk, kinda fade-to-black smut, reader being very clingy, and spencer’s tummy (my fav) a/n: i once told @mandarinmoons that i wanted to climb the man and not even in a sexual way and she said “like a koala?” and to that i answered YES! self-indulgent fics are the best

Spencer smells nice. Like, annoyingly nice. And it’s not the kind of nice that’s vaguely pleasant. No, this is the kind that settles into your bones. A mix of soap and something uniquely him that you can't quite name but would probably pay an unreasonable amount to bottle up.

Now that sounds like a dream. Imagine Spencer in a bottle, spritzed onto your neck, lingering on your skin. Imagine a personal cloud of him following you everywhere, with top notes of freshly brewed coffee and a base note of comfort that leaves you no choice but to lean in just a bit closer. You shift on his lap, pretending to get comfortable, but really, it's because you want to catch another whiff.

Your boyfriend catches you mid-inhale. "Comfortable?"

You don’t even bother pretending to be embarrassed. Who cares if he knows you’re borderline obsessed? Who wouldn’t be? He’s smart, handsome, and smells like heaven bottled in human form. So instead of pulling away, you double down, pressing your nose right into the curve of his neck as your answer.

"I'm starting to think you might be a little attached.”

You sigh against his skin, “Might be? Spencer, I'm practically grafted onto you at this point. You better get used to it."

A hand runs up your spine. “Not that I’m complaining, but my legs might actually fall asleep if I don’t get up soon.”

“So dramatic,” you tease, smiling as you press a soft kiss to his jaw. The subtle scrape of his stubble tickles your lips.

“I don’t think you’ve moved an inch in the past hour.”

“I don’t even want to move an inch,” you murmur against his cheek. "I just want to stay like this. Forever. If I could just crawl under your skin and stay there, that would be perfect.”

Spencer laughs softly, the sound rumbling under your lips. You feel the warmth of his smile as he tilts his head toward you. “That sounds sweet yet incredibly creepy.”

“You know what I mean!” You slide your arms around him, weaving them across his shoulders. “I just… I want to—ugh, I don't know… squeeze you so tight you’d become part of me? Like an extension of my arm or something."

“That definitely sounds less creepy.”

“Shut up.” Your lips trace the rough scratch of his jaw, brushing along the curve until you reach the corner of his mouth. "Don’t you want someone permanently glued to you?"

“You’re definitely making a case for it.”

“Oh I’d climb you if I had to.”

His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck. “Is this where I find out you’re secretly a koala this whole time?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum against his lips, “and you’re my tall, handsome tree.”

His laughter vibrates against your mouth, and you let yourself melt into him, breathing in that comforting scent you’ve grown addicted to. You love him so much. You love him too much that your heart feels like it’s stretching to make room for all of it.

When he finally pulls back, you can’t resist reaching up to smooth your thumb over his bottom lip. “See? Permanent attachment.”

His own thumb caresses the back of your neck in lazy strokes. You're practically dissolving into him.

"I don’t have much of a choice, do I?" The tip of your nose brushes against his as you shake your head. He steals another quick peck from your lips. "I really do need to get up though.”

You pout immediately. “Why?“

“Because my throat is actually starting to feel a little dry. I could use some water.”

“Water is overrated. Stay.”

“Honey,” he croons softly, his eyes squinting with that familiar crinkle at the corners. He thinks you’re cute when you’re clingy. “The kitchen is only ten feet away.”

“Ten feet too far. Do you know the kind of emotional damage I’ll suffer if we’re apart for too long?”

“So dramatic,” he mocks back, planting a kiss on your jaw, your cheek, and you giggle when his mouth lands on the skin between your ear and your neck. “All I’m asking for is ten feet. I promise I’ll be quick.”

“I might wither away from loneliness by the time you get back.”

You feel the ghost of his smile against your skin. “I’ll be back before you even have a chance to miss me.”

“I miss you already,” you sigh when he gently nips at the soft flesh of your neck. “Maybe you should just take me with you.”

You’re mostly bluffing, half-expecting him to laugh it off because Spencer has never actually carried you before. Not that you’ve ever minded—it’s not exactly the first thing you’d expect from him. But before you can even process it, he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under your knee and the other around your back with surprising confidence.

And just like that, the floor seems miles away as he lifts you up.

“Wait! Wait!” you laugh, clutching at his shoulders. "Spencer!"

“I thought you wanted to come along."

“I didn’t think you’d actually carry me!”

You’re met with his steady grip, and to your surprise, he’s not struggling in the slightest. Apparently, those arms are stronger than you’d given him credit for, and it’s… well, very, very attractive. He strides confidently across the apartment, and you can’t help but let out an impressed, slightly flustered, “Okay, this is actually kind of hot.”

The corners of his lips twitch upward, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I did not know you were strong enough to do this,” you comment, then a thought sneaks into your mind, “Do you think we can try this position in the bedroom?”

He looks surprised and mildly amused. “Really? While standing?”

You loop your arms tighter around his neck. “You seem perfectly capable.”

“Wouldn’t I be doing all the work?”

“I thought you liked doing all the work.”

His chest presses against yours as he lets out another laugh. “If by that you mean spoil you, then yes, I do,” he says, casting a quick glance around the room. “Can I sit you on the counter, or are you planning to keep hanging on to me?”

“Tempting, but you can put me on the counter.”

With a gentle ease, he lifts you just slightly higher and sets you down on the cool countertop. “I can still carry you around if that’s what you want.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to brush a stray lock of curls from his face. “I don’t want to tire you out.”

“You’re not tiring me out,” he assures you as he reaches up to grab a glass from the top shelf, arm stretching just enough to give you a teasing glimpse of his soft stomach.

You can’t help yourself. You reach over and splay your hands over that warm skin, feeling the faint tickle of the fine hair scattered down his belly that disappears into his waistband. He doesn’t flinch—he’s long used to your hands finding their way to him like this—but he does cast a sidelong look in your direction. Behave.

If he’s expecting you to follow some sense of decorum, he should know better by now. You give his stomach a gentle, almost smug pat, and shakes his head as he moves to pour himself water.

“What do you want to do after this?” he asks, glancing back at you over his shoulder. You don’t give him an immediate answer, but he’s already suggesting a few ideas for the rest of the evening.

You can’t even pretend to pay attention. Is it normal to be this obsessed with your boyfriend? Because at this point, your focus isn’t even on the words coming out of his mouth. Something about a documentary, maybe. He’s probably rattling off the details right now, but you’re entirely distracted, your eyes shamelessly zooming in on the way his forearm flexes as he holds the glass. Even the soft hair dusting over his skin is doing things to you.

He catches your blatant stare and looks at you over the rim of his glass.

“What?”

“You are so sexy.”

He almost chokes on his water. The glass clatters against the countertop as he sputters, “What has gotten into you today?”

Probably ovulation. But you simply shrug, legs swinging idly against the cabinets beneath you. “I just love you.”

The answer is simple. Words spoken with all the casual sincerity you feel, but it’s enough to melt his astonishment into affection as he strides over and slips between your thighs.

“You just love me?”

“Yeah,” you reply softly, reaching up to brush over the delicious roughness of his stubble. “Like a ridiculous amount. Probably too much.”

His heart is swelling, so full it feels like it’s about to burst. “I love you too.”

“That’s it?”

You watch as his nose twitches, the smallest hint of a smile playing at his lips before he sighs, “I love you so much, angel."

"I think you can do better than that."

He huffs a chuckle, "I love you too much," he tries again, "more than I even know what to do with."

You smile in satisfaction, a little triumphant over his exaggeration. You’ve taught him well. “Say it again.”

The wide expanse of his palms settles on your waist.

“I am madly,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, “deeply,” another finds its way to your jaw, “hopelessly,” he murmurs as he grows even closer to your lips, “in love,” he’s a breath away from yours, “with you.”

The space between you shrinks to nothing. You swallow his last words, letting them dissolve on your tongue like the sweetest confection. What begins as a delicate melding of warmth and breath quickly intensifies, as though he’s determined to steal every bit of air from your lungs. And before you know it, his hands are sliding under you.

A surprised squeal escapes your lips as he lifts your weight, and an even louder gasp follows when he carries you toward the bedroom.

You know exactly what he plans to do for the rest of the evening.

[onismdaydream]

thinking about perv yuji (like i always do) who sneaks into your room when you're sleeping because the panties he stole no longer smell like you or your laundry detergent. they feel nice around his cock, sure, but he wants to smell you, wants to pretend he can taste you. so he goes to get new ones. he even sees a pair that doesn't look familiar from when he looks up your skirts (he swears he doesn't mean to, it's just that your skirts are so short and well, he's right there...)

he takes them in his hand, feels the smooth and silky fabric and thumbs at the little bow. they're cute. he hopes you don't mind if he borrows them for a bit.

but then you stir. a quiet rustle of sheets and a soft groan as you get comfortable, but yuji's perks up at the sound. his gaze actually settles on you, now that his eyes are adjusted, and he feels his cock twitch at the sight. you just look so peaceful and pretty.

and of course he can't help it if his eyes drift down to see your body. the tank top is loose on you, enough that yuji can get a good look at your cleavage. that's one thing he wishes you would show off more — he'd love to get a more accurate representation of you in his mind when he jacks off.

another quiet noise and his gaze moves back to your lips, slightly parted and so damn kissable. if only yuji could feel your soft lips against his...

against his better judgement, yuji takes his cock out, promising himself he can only look. he strokes himself as he watches you sleep, getting himself to full hardness. he knows he has to be quick and quiet — there's no way he could talk himself out of the situation if you woke up. but the sight of his leaking tip so close to your pretty mouth makes him dizzy.

it takes a pathetically short amount of time before he cums in his hand, a few drops falling to the floor of your bedroom. you're still blissfully unaware of what your friend is doing, still in a deep sleep as he carefully swipes his thumb along your bottom lip. a small smear of his cum for you to taste when you wake up.