#who knows exactly how you feel because he has the same dream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminrings · 7 months ago

Text

four seven eight, phase 3 (1)

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: jungkook's secure when it comes to being a husband and a dad, knowing that he grew to love being both after everything you've been through. what he isn't so secure about is the possibility that it's everything he'll ever be.

alternatively, jungkook pursues his dream of making a film, even if it means making your rival his main lead behind your back.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale — complete series masterlist, from phase 1 to 3 ]

[ the return of 478jk (derogatory), major angst, fluff, the weight of devotion except jk's mean this time, flashbacks to phase 1 (im so sorry), the both of them r in an identity crisis, The Return of yoongi, yearning and the ache of unfulfillment all over, eventual redemption ]

notes: FINALLYYYYYY after a long wait, phase three is finally here :-) the og era of 478 is a time i'll truly never forget so now that i'm putting them in Several Inconveniences again, i look forward to creating another era with u citizens!!! mwah thank u love yew

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook likes to be needed.

He likes to be needed fully, sometimes even all at once to the point that every mention of his name makes him think that his assistance is needed. He wants to be needed like the way you rummage through your old film canisters that you dumped in a large drawer just to retrieve a specific picture of him; needed like the way you sigh in relief when you find said roll.

Jungkook wants you to seek him in a crowd, past all the banners of your name from your fans and lanyards of your staff, and ask specifically him for a cold water bottle he keeps in his bag for you. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even mind if you ask it from him indiscreetly — he wants to be needed, even if neither of you are alone with each other.

He’s used to the feeling of being needed because it’s practically routine for him. The way Jungkook loves you has changed and evolved (needlessly to say for the better) through the years, and although he tries to look for the balance in it all, there’s a tiny, tiny part of him that wonders what would’ve happened if neither of you changed.

It’s perhaps the change in seasons, or maybe it’s the build-up of the stupid little things Jungkook’s seen recently; one of those things happen to be a ridiculously long thread by your fan, who happens to also be a fan of Yoongi, assuming that your marriage with J*ngkook (that’s exactly how they typed his name out) is ending, hence your recent collaboration on a brand deal. Jungkook, of course, has half the mind to go on his secret stan account and snark at said poster before reporting, but even then, there’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch.

Whatever weather it is outside nowadays or whichever stupid little thing pisses him off online, Jungkook can’t shake off the nagging question of what if in his mind.

When Jungkook cleans your water bottle every night for you to take to set the next day, he wonders if the two of you would still be together if only he didn’t rush to your place by the exact second your month-long break ended, right when he takes off the rubber from the cap to clean the ridges thoroughly.

When he blowdries your hair (even if you tell him not to bother) after you begrudgingly take a shower because you can’t sleep in bed after going outside and not washing up the second you come home, he wonders if you would’ve kept loving him even if the very incident with Sora didn’t push him to change, right when he sees you close your eyes while his hands scratch your scalp.

When Jungkook sounds out syllables to Hwayoung and tries his very best not to baby-talk her (he can’t help it sometimes) as he recounts his day to the toddler, he wonders if you would’ve even had a daughter with him if he stayed the same silent lover that he used to be, right when she parrots your name back to him with a smile.

“Young-ie’s probably starting to need me less and less,” he sighs to you with a pout, eyebrows knitted in concern as he gives you his rookie version of a blowout he’s still trying to perfect. Jungkook can’t flick his wrist the way professional hairstylists do, just in the same way you can’t pick up why he’s brought up the thought out of nowhere.

“How could you say that? She’s the biggest daddy’s girl ever,” you chuckle, placating him with the truth despite your initial confusion. If you weren’t fully awake awhile ago, you certainly are now — mostly because Jungkook springs up an unbelievable idea, and partly because whenever he tugs the brush at your hair, your whole head comes along with it.

“Not really. More like biggest mommy’s girl, you mean,” he defensively scoffs, apologizing quickly when he hears you wince at a particular experimental tug he does on your ends.

“Should we wake her up right now and let her decide?” you murmur, your eyes locking with his on the mirror.

Jungkook, at his most comfortable state, wearing ratty oversized pajamas and glasses on his face that he’s yet to update the prescription on, has never felt more competitive in his life.

“Well we could-…”

“I was joking,” you deadpan, the silence between the two of you getting long enough to the point that you suddenly find yourself laughing, effectively getting Jungkook out of his daze.

“… I knew that.”

You may have had an inkling about Jungkook feeling slightly off before in the past weeks, but all it took was his random, unprompted question tonight for you to solidify that seed of concern in your chest.

Jungkook likes to be needed, even if he can’t say the same that you need him as much as he thinks you do. He thinks it’s a perfectly rational feeling to want to be needed by both your wife and your daughter, and although he’s not as receptive to being needed as much by anyone other than his family, the feeling still stays the same.

He has all the time in the world. You’ve enabled him to do so even if he’s the one mainly looking after Hwayoung while you worked, but despite that, Jungkook doesn’t feel needed enough.

There’s an itch in his mind that he can’t scratch with neither your constant affection nor Hwayoung’s grabby hands. There’s an unplaceable, agitating urge in Jungkook’s chest to put a pause on everything and be back to who and what he used to be, despite your affirmation that he is needed.

There’s that tick going on in Jungkook’s brain that amplifies everything he does to seem wrong; that makes him grumpy when he wakes up to prepare you breakfast whenever you had early shoots, that makes him purse his lips when his daughter asks him to watch the same movie with her for the third time in the week.

All of the uneasiness in him, however, disappears when Namjoon, the acclaimed screenwriter that he has for a friend (whom he actually met through you), calls him up with an offer that Jungkook can’t refuse.

It’s an offer that releases the ache from his bones, makes him want to blowdry your hair better, and watch the same movie over and over again with his daughter — but Jungkook postpones saying it to you when you come home and want nothing more than to be in his arms, and for Hwayoung to be in yours.

( ♡ )

Jungkook could wait more.

He convinces himself that he can because although there’s a date set for the short film that Namjoon’s pitched for him to produce, it hasn’t grown yet to become the unstoppable force against Jungkook’s immovable object: family.

He knows he needs to tell you eventually and that he’s not really asking for permission in the first place, but there’s a sense of guilt in him whenever the thought of breaking the news to you comes into mind. He’s not nervous per se because he knows you’re as supportive of him, if not more, like he is with you.

It just happens that it’s within the fine details that Jungkook truly feels hesitant to tell you that he has to leave for awhile.

Jungkook could wait more, and although that means he has to deal with the occasional voice in his head telling him that lying to you (even under the guise of protecting you) has the capacity to bite back at him, he manages. He swallows down the words whenever you unintentionally give him an opening to tell you about the news of him going abroad, and just settles for holding your hand.

He could wait more because telling you now wouldn’t be the right time, now when you’re on your day-off as you’re close to wrapping up your current project before moving to the bigger, more exhausting one; not now when you have a time of reprieve to spend with your family before taking on the biggest project of your career to date.

Jungkook hums to himself as he looks down on Hwayoung who has a tiny shopping cart to herself, her strikingly round eyes that she got from him (Hwayoung looks more like him the older she gets) looking up to his own.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he lulls, mumbling loudly enough for only her to hear. “You’d understand if appa left for awhile, right?”

“Left?” she questions, holding up her left hand at the mention yet she reels at his query, brows furrowing as she seems to digest the question. “Why?”

“Yup. That’s your left. Good job, baby,” Jungkook praises, the knot in his throat growing when he looks to his daughter who looks confused at the sudden query, again, that came out of nowhere. “You would, won’t you?”

Hwayoung hums because she doesn’t quite understand, but that’s the thing that Jungkook fears most — she’s young and smart and although he wants to use those facts to his advantage, he realizes that Hwayoung being the age that she is in now could also prove him to be dispensable.

Jungkook likes being needed, but he’s much too afraid of the possibility that Hwayoung won’t even recall him as soon as he leaves.

Your husband’s snapped out of his reverie when you go downstairs with a skip in your step, the tell-tale mischievous tone to your voice already predicting that Hwayoung would make the two of you chase after her in the backyard all day. “What are the two of you plotting again?” you ask playfully, hands on your hips as Jungkook chuckles at the sight of his two girls.

“Nothing!” Hwayoung giggles, the word slipping out of her seamlessly as she even shakes her hands fervently, accustomed to what you mean exactly with your tone of voice. She’s young and bright and you see so much of Jungkook in her, even if Jungkook would argue otherwise.

Jungkook’s dazed this morning with the way his gaze locks in from far away, his bottom lip bit between his teeth more often than not as if he’s always at war with himself.

“You okay, Kook?”

“Mhmm. Couldn’t be better,” he hums half-heartedly, his lips grazing your temple as he guides you to sit down on the carpet with him. “You finally slept for more than eight hours. That’s good,” he says as an afterthought, the pauses in between his words growing in distance as his gaze is fixated on everything but you.

Jungkook looks at your daughter who’s now pushing Miso around the house in her shopping cart, and while your cat (who’s always seemed to hate your husband) looks more than pleased at being played with, she meows to Jungkook and only at him with a hiss at the end of her spiel as if in warning — as if Jungkook is guilty of something that only the two of them know about.

Almost as if out of everyone in the room, it’s only your cat who knows that Jungkook’s lying.

Jungkook can wait, but he’s certain that he can’t wait any longer because if his brain is unoccupied for long enough, he’ll start to hear Miso cursing at him through her yowls.

“Hwayoung doesn’t look like she needs you any less,” you say gently, your line of sight following Jungkook’s as he tenses at your words.

“Oh,” he sighs, jaw grinding down to a halt. “Right."

Your words seemingly came out of nowhere, even if the both of you know deep down that they’re influenced by his impulsive thoughts from last week.

“You can say the same for me,” you add, not as an afterthought, but as a lesser-known fact that Jungkook seems to forget every now and then.

There’s a weight in his chest because all of a sudden, Jungkook can’t wait anymore. The itch in his mind has already been scratched too much that it had already bled and scabbed.

There’s a weight in his chest that reminds him he can’t wait anymore, because in hindsight, the weight of him and everything that comes with him settles on his shoulders.

Maybe, Jungkook doesn’t want to be needed as much.

( ♡ )

Jungkook drops the news on you while you’re folding laundry.

He was meant to go for sincere but the way the words leave him, right when you’re in the middle of folding Hwayoung’s pajamas that she’s about to overgrow in the soonest, it sounds as if he’s been dying to tell you; now that he has, he sounds beyond relieved.

“Namjoon offered me a script,” he announces, taking the pajamas from you to put in his pile as he sees your eyes widen, the remnants of the heavy mascara they used on you on set awhile ago highlighting your surprise. “He wants me to produce.”

“What?” you punctuate, tilting your head as you try to make sense of what Jungkook’s saying. You know he’s speaking and you’re familiar with said words; you just never expected for them to be compacted in the same sentence, meaning the way that he makes it out to be. “Kim Namjoon, as in the producer for In Terms of Eternity?”

He chirps at that, posture straightening as he tries to jog your memory. “Yeah. You’ve worked with him before and introduced us, then turns out Jin’s also a friend of his and-…"

“I mean I know Namjoon and that you’re friends with him, Jungkook,” you interrupt, trying to reel yourself in as you’ve lost your focus trying to fold Hwayoung’s clothes and talk to your husband at the same time. “But I didn’t know you were that close for him to ask you to produce something for him.”

Jungkook doesn’t completely crash from the high he’s in over finally telling you the news, but there’s that spike that flashes briefly over his face, the frown on his lips letting on more than he shows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?"

You sigh at the impossible position the both of you are in, the words that try to line themselves up in your temple being no match to the way they translate out-loud. “It means nothing. I’m just… surprised that he’d ask you to be a producer for his script, that’s all. It came out of nowhere.”

Jungkook recoils at that, a stubborn brow raised as he tries to keep his composure. “Because you don’t think I’m capable of being a producer?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” you inhale sharply, gripping a random article of Hwayoung’s clothing beside you to pace yourself. “Namjoon’s.. big. He’s established, and well, you’ve never become a producer before.”

“And you have?” Jungkook digs, even if it’s unnecessary to do so, and the way his face falls at the forthcoming regret that creeps up to him lets you know that he thinks so too.

“Jungkook,” you try again, quirking your lips to the side as you try to manage with the pace he’s set you up on. “I’m just surprised, that’s all. This is all new to me. All new to you, even. If anything, it’s nice that Namjoon trusts you a lot.

“He does. We’re close,” he nods, clearing his throat as he feels that the both of you could move on to the other phase of the news you had interrupted him at. “As a matter of fact, we’re taking it on a global scale.”

Jungkook doesn’t get why your face falls.

He doesn’t get why your shoulders rise and fall, not in relief, but out of controlled tension that threatens to pour over.

“What?”

“The script. The film,” he smiles, trying to get you to finish his sentence and connect the dots together but to no avail. “It’s… it’s — we have to film in the US for a few months.”

“What?” you repeat, the knot in your throat tangling up more and more hesitance in you the longer it stays there.

“I said, we have to-…”

“No, I heard what you said,” you interrupt, jaw clenching tightly as you try to grasp everything Jungkook has said.

You don’t get why Jungkook’s smiling.

You don’t get why he’s completely at ease and only in confusion as he sees you piece everything out.

“Then what’s the matter?”

“Kook, all of this is new. Everything you’ve just said is and will be new,” you chuckle humorlessly, running your hand through your hair in frustration as you try to relax. “I’m happy for you, believe me, but Jungkook, what you’re saying is serious. It’s a lot to take in,” you pause, eyes wide as you repeat the words to yourself. “You. Producing. In the US, of all places, a-and for months.”

There’s not one exact emotion that runs through you because the longer that Jungkook looks at you, ecstatic, while you’re weighing what he’s just said like a bag of bricks — you feel even more conflicted.

Your husband wrings his hands together, nervously smiling at you as if he’s asking for permission, but the both of you know that his mind’s already set. He thinks the opportunity of producing a short film that’s been drafted by his friend is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, eager to take off even if he’s had no experience at all in the industry.

“I don’t know, baby. It’s just been so long since I got this excited and alive, y’know? It’s a nice change of pace and I get to do something nice-…”

“Isn’t being with your daughter nice?” you ask abruptly, unable to mask the conflict that’s been brewing in your mind ever since Jungkook pulled you aside to talk. You feel hesitant; disconnected even from wrapping your head around his wording.

Even convincing yourself that you’re just spent from working sunrise to sundown doesn’t work. No matter how hard you try, Jungkook’s tone remains as is.

“Y/N,” he sighs, lips in a tight line as he screws his eyes shut. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting anything, Jungkook,” you grit, crossing your arms in defense. You feel guarded more than ever, not because you’re the one whom he’s pertaining to, but because your Hwayoung is involved and you won’t sit around for it. “It’s just that when you put it like that, it sounds like taking care of Hwayoung is a chore.”

You used to be sure awhile ago that you were seeing double because in between memorizing scripts and going from schedule to schedule without any time to rest in between, you’ve been worried sick because Jungkook hadn’t texted you the whole day. You were shocked enough to come home to your daughter playing by herself downstairs (with Miso watching her the whole time), even more-so when you saw Jungkook engrossed in a highly-enthusiastic phone call.

Jungkook sighs as if talking to you completely exhausts him, pinching his nosebridge before muttering under his breath. “Like you’re one to talk.”

“Excuse me?” you blink in surprise, tilting your head in sheer confusion. You’re about to shrug it off but he does that thing again, the one where he almost rolls his eyes at you but realizes it at the last minute.

“Nothing.”

“Say that again, Jungkook.”

“My god,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back. He runs his hands through his hair frustratedly, sucking in a rushed breath. He looks straight at you when he gives his grievance. “I’m just saying! Why do you get to live out your dream but I don’t?”

“This is my job,” you bite back instantly, the second it took for you to digest his words being enough time for him to groan again. “If it were up to me, do you think I’d work six days a week? Do you not know how much it kills me to stay away from my family?”

You’re at a loss for words, the tiny bit of insecurity you have being dug up once again. You feel guilty because you actually don’t — you know to yourself that you still dedicate so much of yourself to Jungkook and Hwayoung even if you work full-time.

Jungkook chokes up a laugh in front of your face.

“Then quit your dream if you’re so miserable.”

Your jaw clenches quickly in annoyance, unable to retain the disbelief that builds up in your chest. “My dream is my job! It’s why we’re living this life in the first place, Jungkook! Your dream is this project that was pitched to you like what, two weeks ago?”

“Can I not live my life the way that I want to?” he asks exaggeratedly, eyes wide in defense. “Why am I only your husband and why am I only Hwayoung’s dad? Why can’t I go to the US a-and try things out? Why can’t I be free from all this even for just a while?”

Your mouth falls apart at that, your moment of shock simultaneously being Jungkook’s instance for guilty. He wants to reel it in right then and there, but the small part of his pride grows to hold him back.

“Do we hold you back that much?” you whisper, the headache that has been building in your head since this morning shrinking to the size of Jungkook’s words. “What are you getting so angry for? I’m not saying no. I’m asking you why you’re so hellbent on suddenly leaving to do this.”

A large part of you, if not all, feels more disappointed than angry. Hwayoung has not and should never be an afterthought for the both of you yet Jungkook brings her up with you like mere variables.

You can grasp the fact that being a parent is a full-time job like yours yet what you can’t get a hold of is your husband’s apprehension; his sudden need of pursuing something beyond your family.

“Because I’m scared, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers, exhaling heavily. “I’m scared that this is all what life could ever be for me.”

It’s only when you’re completely silent that he comes back to the severity of his words, the tension that’s been building up in him breaking the moment that you break eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry for being your wife.”

“Baby, that’s not-…” Jungkook tries to correct himself, hot on your heels as you get up from your seat on the couch. You’re not even speeding up yet he catches you just as urgently, the hold he has on your arm doing little to put you at ease.

“And I’m sorry for making you a dad.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m-…”

“You should do this project if you really want to,” you quip, back still turned to him as you enter the bedroom. Jungkook noticeably stops in his tracks, the furrow in his brows fading because you’ve put him on whiplash.

“What?”

“You’ve held down the fort while I was out being the breadwinner. It’ll be nice for you to do your own thing,” you smile tightly, eager to sleep on the whole thing just so you don’t stay hung-up for too long.

“What about Hwayoung? What about your film? They want it to be an entry for the Academy, right?” he asks in concern, different from the worry he had awhile ago when he thought you were against him leaving.

You nod, easily shrugging despite the weight on your shoulders. “I’m her mom, of course. She’s gonna come first. And for the film, I think I can still do it. I’ll juggle them both if I have to.”

Jungkook nods, eyes set on the floor. He didn’t think this far at all.

“Do you want to hire a nanny? I know a friend.”

“I’ll pass. I don’t trust nannies.”

There’s an overwhelming silence that engulfs the both of you, the white noise machine in your nightstand unable to fill it completely. Jungkook looks at the ceiling while you look at Hwayoung who’s sprawled in the middle of your bed, clutching Miso like a teddy bear — she already fell asleep waiting for the both of you.

“I didn’t mean what I said awhile ago, I’m sorry. It came out the wrong way,” Jungkook apologizes after some time, hand darting out to hold yours while you only hover above your vanity, taking off all of your jewelry except for your wedding ring.

“When do you leave?” you ask, still unable to meet his gaze.

“Next week,” he clears his throat. “When do you start filming?”

You nod, coming into terms that Jungkook would leave no matter what you say. “Next week.”

You’re arranging the covers when your husband tries to hold you again, voice strained and rushed. “Y/N, I really am sorry. I love being your-…”

“Shh,” you interrupt, pursing your lips. “Hwayoung’s sleeping.”

( ♡ )

You asked for a day off.

You’ve rarely ever asked for them throughout your entire career because you were built on the mindset that at the end of the day, you’re also an employee no matter what gig you land. Be it the cameos you used to book with Yoongi or the titular characters you take from studio after studio, you’re still the employee who had worked her way up fairly.

You didn’t ask for it during that instance when you fell sick after back-to-back shoots because you didn’t want to waste anyone’s time. You didn’t ask for it when you woke up with the type of fatigue that settled in your body no matter how hard you closed your eyes or laid your head against the cushions.

You’ve never asked for it for your sake, but you’ve asked for a day off now because Jungkook’s leaving for a place you can’t come and go to as you wish.

Unlike your house or the hotels you book for him and Hwayoung to be at whenever you have to film out of town, Jungkook’s out of reach. He’s one call away, granted that your timezones match up and there’s a connection strong enough for it to continue without a hitch. He’s far from your grasp and he will be for months on end, and you don’t think you can ever stomach working on the same day he’s leaving.

“Are you seeing me off at the airport?” he asks during the car ride, voice audible enough for only you to hear and not Hwayoung who’s sprawled across both of your laps, sleeping soundly with her plushie that resembled Miso.

“I will, but I don’t think I can see you off near the gate. I can only manage up to here,” you answer honestly, willing yourself not to break down even if the both of you are still in the car, away from any prying eyes of the media that lurks outside. “So can Hwayoung,” you add, a large part of you being grateful that she’s asleep when Jungkook has to leave so neither of you would hear her cries.

Jungkook sees that hesitance in you, the same kind that softens him into fragments.

“It’ll only be for awhile, okay? Just for a few months,” he smiles tightly, rearranging his backpack next to him, the keyring that held Hwayoung’s second-favorite toy (not the ultimate favorite because she won’t ever let him take it) clattering loudly. “I love you,” Jungkook murmurs. “Do you know that?”

“Mhmm.”

“Say it back.”

You refuse to do so because saying it back feels finite, perhaps even forced, because although you love Jungkook, saying so at the moment only weighs you down as reality sinks in. “This is gonna be easy for us, right?"

“It’s not like we’ve never been in a similar set-up before,” he shrugs, the pout on his face casual as he tries to level with you.

“But this is different, Jungkook. This is beyond different. We have Hwayoung and now, we’re both working,” you stammer, chest rising and falling as you wrap your head around everything. “This— this isn’t Seoul to Jeonju. This isn’t a leave by day, come back by night type of trip. This is-…”

“You’re freaking out,” Jungkook interjects, his soft yet stern voice cutting through your thoughts as he lays a hand on your thigh, the platinum of his wedding band looking right up at you.

You surrender in defeat, not because you’re fighting with your husband, but because there’s simply no other answer he could ever conjure for you as to why this is happening.

“Why aren’t you? Why am I the only one scared?” you whisper.

“You’re not supposed to be.”

“Of course. It’s not like you— we put everything on the line,” you clear your throat, looking down on your shoes as you convince yourself. You ignore how you’re still not entirely aware of what’s with Jungkook’s project, other than the fact that Namjoon’s the screenwriter, all in favor of giving you a semblance of sanity before Jungkook leaves you and Hwayoung. “Right?”

( ♡ )

You wonder if Jungkook already ate breakfast.

You wonder if he ate the supposedly excellent in-flight meal that comes with first-class tickets, or if he ate the ramen he’s always had a penchant for eating especially during your trips, whether by land, sea, or air. You wonder if he’s grumpy with the altitude and the way he has to pop his ears ever so often, along with the way he always seems to be too long for airplane seats turned into beds.

You call but Jungkook doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll never not purchase in-flight wifi because he’d rather knock himself out than have to read a book or something of the sort. You message, but then again, your husband doesn’t answer, even if you know he’ll much rather reply via text than to record a voice note because he’s shy with people hearing him in public spaces, albeit closed.

Hwayoung waits patiently beside you, swinging her legs back and forth on the couch as Miso stays up with her. She should’ve been in bed half an hour ago but you let her stay up with you, all in the pursuit of getting Jungkook to respond.

“Appa?” she asks again after a minute of you trying for her dad but through another app, her pout reminding you of Jungkook’s who’s unreachable.

You try not to frown in front of her, leveling yourself as you settle for kissing her forehead to cover up the sigh that originates deep from your chest.

“Not yet, Young-ie.”

There’s no text from Jungkook when you wake, but there is a picture of him in the buffet of the private lounge he’s staying at during his layover.

Atleast Jungkook did eat breakfast and Hwayoung was able to sleep without him (the first of what you dread is many), nevermind the dull thrum in your chest in Jungkook’s absence.

( ♡ )

Hwayoung's been behaved the whole time you were on set.

With Jimin prioritizing his voluntary role of being a babysitter to your daughter over his position of being a manager to you, you became instantly comforted at the reassurance that you're not in this situation alone.

It's only been a week since you started working right after Jungkook left, his absence rearranging every system you've previously had in place. You do your very best to have Hwayoung still thriving, and even just the reminder that you are succeeding at being the only present parent for the meantime melts all of your fatigue away.

Your trailer's more equipped for her than it is for you, the space apparently reminding Hwayoung of home so much that it's enough to make her remind you that Miso should go join the both of you sometime. Your dressing room's always been hers, and so has been the affection of everyone close to you.

“I take my role of godfather very seriously.”

Yoongi explains even if you haven't asked him anything. In fact, you weren't talking to begin with. It's not in his nature to talk for the sake of talking (that's Jungkook's), but even with Hwayoung in his arms and you still being lost in your thoughts, he can't help but to feel concerned.

“I can tell," you snicker, finally taking notice of the sight in front of you. The earpiece that was previously on Yoongi is now slung over Hwayoung's shoulder, obviously too big on her. She wanted it as an accessory (it reminds her of the toy stethoscope she'd put on Miso as a collar) and with Yoongi being himself, he can't bring himself to say no.

Your shooting day's nearly over and although today wasn't as long as your previous record of hours on end, you already seem exhausted. Yoongi, of all people, knows what scenes wear you out. You hated doing monologues as a rookie and still despise monologues (but with random, out-of-place advertisements in between) as a veteran — you’ve done neither today.

"What's with the frown?" he asks gently, not only because Hwayoung’s been quiet for the past two minutes and she’s getting groggy, but also because if he were to ask you any louder, he feels as if you’d break.

"It's nothing," you answer automatically, looking at Hwayoung to ground yourself. "Just usual family things, I guess."

"Trouble in paradise?" Yoongi asks with a chuckle, abruptly stopping his fit of amusement when he gets goosebumps starting from the tail of his spine. He instantly recognizes it as deja vu. "I've asked you this before, haven't I?"

The realization doesn’t hit you until he points it out.

"Mhmm," you hum absent-mindedly, playing with the hem of your dress. “I don't think the problem now is anything like how it was before, though."

One night several years ago, you and Yoongi were sat side-by-side in the booth of a club, the heartbreak you had over what Jungkook’s done (and haven’t, at the time) being the wedge between you.

Now, Yoongi’s standing in front of you while you’re sat down, your daughter with Jungkook in his arms.

“Me neither. I don't know how you and Jungkook can encounter any problem worse than last time, to be honest," he chuckles, shaking his head at the recollection of the hell you’ve been through. "Also, I think I can say that because I literally don't know what's going on with you. But if you do tell me-!"

"You're so nosy,” you snort, the brief moment of playfulness welcome because your head aches the longer that you dwell over your worries.

"I can be the judge to see if what you're going through now is worse than before," Yoongi shrugs to fake nonchalance, unaware that you’re gasping in awe until you kick him lightly in the shin.

Hwayoung’s asleep in his arms.

"She's never did that with anyone before," you murmur, fishing for your phone to take a picture, but not before quickly skimming to see if Jungkook’s sent you any messages; he hasn’t. “She only either sleeps in mine or Jungkook's arms. Not for my parents, not for my in-laws. Just me and him."

Yoongi smiles proudly, stroking Hwayoung’s hair proudly. "What can I say? I'm godfather of the year."

He only sways her gently back and forth, rocking her with the patience and attention that remind you of Jungkook’s when Hwayoung was a newborn.

You’re calm and quiet to see her adjusting so well already, but you can’t help but to feel lost because you feel the exact opposite. No one’s gonna stroke your hair for you and tell you to take your time — those are Jungkook’s tasks alone, yet your grievances are also because of him.

"Jungkook's producing this short film in the US. It's by his friend," you mutter under your breath after some time in silence. Yoongi flicks his eyes up at you as if you’re talking about the weather, careful not to make you feel more conflicted than you already are. “You know… by Namjoon.”

"Since when was he into that?" he asks out of curiosity, eyebrows furrowed because he didn’t know that your opening line would ever transition to this point in the conversation. Yoongi catches a second wind the longer he processes your words, the scoff that leaves his lips making his bangs loose despite the hairspray on them. “Since when did Jungkook and Namjoon belong in the same sentence?”

"I don't know either.”

"So we're both producers now?" he snickers, the teasing already coming natural. "Nepo husband alert."

You roll your eyes in recognition, clearing your throat as soon as the laughter died between the two of you. “We got into this argument and I don't know, I-I realized I was being selfish for a moment because I didn't want him to go at first, you know?" you admit in full sincerity, exhaling the lump that forms in your throat. “He said he was afraid that this is everything he'll be. My husband, Hwayoung's dad. So on and so forth."

Yoongi only listens this time, giving the occasional hum there to remind you that he’s still there.

"And last night, he, uh, he forgot to call," you gulp, already feeling the weight of your worries settle in your stomach. "The call wasn't even for me. It's for Hwayoung because he promised he'll still read her whatever she wants."

The three of you cherish that time together because normally, it happens as soon as you get home from work. Hwayoung’s long graduated from storybooks and has now branched out to the most ridiculous texts that Jungkook indulges her with nonetheless — from the ingredient list at the back of milk cartons, and all the way to Reddit threads of how cats find their way back home to owners.

"He's been secretive about the whole thing and I-I… I do that too with my projects, I get it. But only at first because I'm literally bound to an NDA," you stammer, pinching your nosebridge to get past the frustration. “I’m just-…!" you give up, admitting the truth. "I did some snooping."

"And?" Yoongi prompts, tilting his head in anticipation.

"I think he's been secretive because the main lead's Eunsu."

Yoongi recoils at that, so much so that it almost wakes up Hwayoung.

"Eunsu? As in Park Eunsu?" he repeats, the scowl on his face getting deeper the more that you stay indifferent. “Eunsu as in your nemesis?"

You relent, the mention of her finally hitting close.

"Nemesis sounds a little childish."

Yoongi scoffs immediately, rolling his eyes at your correction. “I mean yeah, because people keep pitting her against you when she doesn't even come close," he shrugs easily, make you tut in warning. "What? I'm just saying what everybody's been thinking."

To know that you can still confide in Yoongi no matter what comforts you — what doesn’t is that this time around, your gut feeling’s stronger than it had been the last time.

"I hope I'm wrong."

"I hope so too," he exhales, shaking his head in disbelief. "What kind of asshole sleeps with his wife's enemy?"

"Don't put that out there,” you grumble, the unintentional yet weird arrangement of words making you dizzy.

"Sorry. It's a metaphor, dummy," Yoongi surrenders, clearing his throat. "Okay. Retake. What kind of husband produces a film featuring his wife's rival?

"Hopefully not mine."

( ♡ )

It takes little effort to love you.

Loving you specifically doesn’t have to be hard.

Jungkook thinks that loving you isn’t hard when you serve as the peace to his otherwise hectic and turbulent mind. You manifest into the comfort he looks for in all seasons, be it the heat pack you wordlessly put in his coat pocket or the scrunchie you put around his wrist no matter the weather whenever his hair got too long.

You don’t text him at every hour of the day whether you were working or not, but you’ve made it a point to always check up on him multiple times even if the both of you are at home, going as far to randomly waking up in the night to pause your breathing and check up on his with a hand on his chest.

It’s easy love — one that could be grasped by everyone because as the world has proved to him time and time again, you’re easy to fall with and for.

You may not coo and awe at every single thing he utters, but the adoration behind your eyes always makes him warm from the inside because you held onto him, no matter how anticlimactic his stories could be.

Neither you and Jungkook are easy, that much he knows.

He knows it because although it’s never been his intention to come home late during his allotted short break between filming (it’s disguised as a break even if he only came back to take care of work-related matters personally), you make it known that you’re irked with him for every other reason.

He knows that you aren’t easy because for the past three weeks he’s been gone, you’ve reiterated twice in the last hour alone how you’ve asked him again and again who will star in his short film. You’ve asked Jungkook repeatedly to give you details outside of Namjoon and the vaguest bits he could ever give you, establishing the fact that he isn’t even bound to an NDA.

It’s the persisting barrage of questions in your head that bothers you without a single break. It’s the hovering feeling of doom above your head because having no answers to any of them, on top of Jungkook closing himself off with or without the physical distance between the two of you and being Hwayoung’s sole caregiver, that your patience ultimately thins.

Your annoyance towards your husband is clearly obvious and it bothers him to the point of frustration. Jungkook’s been convinced since last week that if he just dodged your questions for long enough and blamed it on the connection of your call, he wouldn’t have to answer to you; he wouldn’t have to explain the fine details of the project he’s kept from you.

If he had only avoided you for long enough, you would’ve forgotten about the rumors surrounding Namjoon’s upcoming screenplay that had been leaked to the press, and the roster of actresses thought out to be the main lead of his short film.

If he had only ignored your pleas for long enough, he would have never succumbed to the preliminary guilt that comes with lying to you under the impression that he’s only being protective, pushing him to drink until his vision spins — enough for him that when he admits the truth to you, your face of heartbreak directed at him isn’t as anguishing.

“Fine, fuck it! Since you’re so nosy, yes. Eunsu is my main lead, there! She’s my muse!” Jungkook just about yells, breathless from the burn of alcohol in his throat that spreads all the way to his chest, and from the back and forth he’s been going at with you for the last hour.

“Why didn’t you tell me in the first place?!” you retort, fists clenching at your sides as the thought of Jungkook with Eunsu, with her of all actresses, in a foreign place at almost every minute of the workday irking you.

“Would it have made a difference? You’d still be angry at me,” he rolls his eyes, placing a hand on his hip as he tries to stabilize his gaze on you.

“And even then, you wouldn’t do anything about it, right? Because that’s just your nature, Jungkook,” you scoff, your dig at him being incredibly low yet you steel your pride, unwilling to back down at the thought that Jungkook’s been lying to you for three weeks– perhaps even longer.

He presses a tongue to his cheek as you pertain to the past loud and clear, the sarcastic nod he gives you making your breathing tremble.

“Why? Why does it have to be her?” you try again, this time with your jaw clenched so your anger won’t flare up because you’ve been dying to have a decent explanation from Jungkook for weeks.

“Why can’t it be her?” he counters. “B-because she’s what, she’s your rival or something? You’re jealous? Bitter?”

The knot in your chest tightens, the recall you have of the woman who had sabotaged you repeatedly when you were still a rookie putting a metallic taste on your tongue. She’s hindered you in ways that not even Yoongi could explain fully despite being the closest friend to you in the industry, the vitriol you’ve had for Eunsu in the past reviving back to life.

You have no words except for the fact that begs to be acknowledged without a single syllable.

“I’m your wife, Jungkook,” you exhale shakily, the gravity of it seemingly not enough for him because he refuses to use it as a reason to get on your side.

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think everybody knows that by now?” Jungkook spits. “When I’m producing my film with Eunsu, I don’t want to be your husband, Y/N! I’m sick of it,” he seethes. “Eunsu has nothing to do with me. Why should I fight your battles for you? Why do I have to carry your grudges for something that doesn’t even concern me?”

Jungkook’s the drunkest he’s ever been in his life, yet he utters the clearest words you’ve ever heard him say.

“This is showbiz, Y/N. It’s inevitable for you to get caught up with shit.”

“You’re talking as if being my husband and being Hwayoung’s dad is a chore.”

“Because maybe it is!” Jungkook bursts with a cry, the tears that spring out of his eyes momentarily blinding him. “Because maybe, I’m fed up trying to be sickeningly devoted to you all the time.”

There’s something akin to white, hot, searing pain that spreads across your chest all the way to your temple, the tremble of your lips not enough for Jungkook to realize that you’re on the verge of sobbing.

“Sometimes I hate this. I… I-I hate this life I’m living because of you, Y/N,” Jungkook whispers. “I hate how you’re so, so perfect in juggling everything. I hate how I could spend an hour just convincing Hwayoung to eat a single carrot and you come in the room, and she finishes the bowl with a smile on her face. I-I hate how you never complain whenever you need to do late night feedings after a long day because I’m already snoring. I hate how with or without work, you’re still just—…” he stills, looking at you with a distraught gaze. “You’re still so content. You’re still able to be yourself like you’ve always been.”

There’s no words left in you; no thought at all that could ever pick you up from the ground and gather yourself the way you’ve always had whenever you and Jungkook had felt the furthest from each other.

“Jungkook,” you sniffle, even if he waves you off half-heartedly. “I’m sorry if-…”

“There it is. There it fucking is again!” Jungkook whines, foot agitatedly stomping against the floor as he pulls at his hair. “You’re apologizing for being so perfect in life that it’s making me feel bad!”

“But I’m not! I’m far from it, what the hell are you talking about?” you rasp, the sarcastic laugh that goes past your lips making his ears ring. “I’m sorry if it seems that way but I’m telling you myself that everything is not perfect the way you make it out to be. I’m sorry because it makes you feel bad, but if anything-…”

Jungkook raises a finger at you, his jaw tightening the longer he stews in displacement.

“Don’t. Don’t. Don’t tell me how content you are with everything despite being exhausted, or how you juggling everything is worth it. Don’t tell me how good of a dad I am."

“Then what can I say to make it lighter for you, Jungkook? What can I say that won’t make you resent me?” you grit in surrender, chest falling so lowly, you’ve forgotten to breathe for a long second. “Do you hate the life that we’re living now so much that you can’t even look at me?”

Love isn’t always a matter of ease and although it’s always stuck to you, you prove now that Jungkook coming home to you at this instance, in this light, that he makes love the most difficult thing.

“Do you hate the life that I gave you so badly?”

“I don’t,” he answers, mouth dry as his vision spins. “Sometimes. Tonight, though — maybe I do. It comes and goes.”

“Then what can we do about it?” you whisper, your vision hazy as you look at him. “Where do we go from here?”

“It’s getting late,” Jungkook only whispers, unwilling to look at the bed you share. “I have an early flight tomorrow.”

#heh . how r we feeling citizens!!!! :O #jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook x reader

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naughtyjjk · 4 months ago

Text

just a massage (pt. 2)

characters: nanami x fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism/voyeurism notes: if you haven't already, make sure to read part 1 here first!

it’s been a week and nanami hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you. it’s terrible for him mentally, for his day-to-day living in general. every time he closes his eyes, you’re there in his mind. you with your naked body and perfect curves and smooth skin… the way you were so vocal and reactive to his touches…

he’s thought about you more than he’d ever admit, especially at night, after a long day of work, when he’s finally able to take off his clothes and lie down in bed and wrap a hand around his aching cock. yes, he’s jerked off to the thought of you—multiple times. he can’t seem to stop, addicted to the fantasy that he conjures. and it’s bad, it’s so bad of him, but he’s also never come so hard before and you make him irrationally horny.

today, nanami gets to the massage parlor and opens up his schedule. that’s when he sees your name there, a session booked for 1:30 pm. he blinks, wondering if it’s a dream. it’s not. he moves through the whole morning on autopilot, speaking politely to clients who are not you. they’re all irrelevant and he’s both looking forward to and dreading the time of your appointment.

he promised that he wouldn’t repeat what happened last time. it had been far to inappropriate, far too unprofessional, and he could easily get fired if anyone found out. but… his cock has other ideas. he doesn’t know if he would be able to hold back once he sees you again, in person, there to tempt him with your hot, sexy body. at the same time, a part of him wants to find out how far he can push you, test the limits to see how much you’re able to endure. it had been obvious that you were into it just as much as he was last time.

inhaling, nanami looks at the clock. it shouldn’t be long now before you get here. he has to tame his thoughts so that he doesn’t get himself all worked up over nothing.

but fuck, he wants you. he wants you so fucking bad.

“you booked a longer session this time,” nanami greets you as you walk into the room. he’s shirtless again, of course. at this point, you can probably guess that it’s a deliberate choice, as if he’s testing your resolve from the very start. like last time, the only piece of clothing he has on is a pair of shorts that barely does anything to hide what he’s packing down there.

you divert your eyes before you end up staring for too long. everything about the massage parlor looks exactly the same as it had when you visited last week, with its white walls and minimalistic decorations and the different bottles of oils all lined up on the counter which, as nanami has proved previously, can be used for more than their intended purposes. but there is something that changed, though, and you sense it as soon as you see nanami.

“well,” you reply eventually, “we left off with some unfinished business.”

there’s no beating around the bush anymore. neither of you bother to keep up pretenses this time because it’s inevitable where this will lead. and this is something you both clearly want. you know that you’re not the only one who had been looking forward to today, that nanami wants it just as much as you.

“right. but you know,” nanami drawls, “last time, while you were in the changeroom after our session, i think i heard some… noises. any idea what that could be?”

flushing, you feel your entire body heating up with embarrassment. you curse yourself for not being quieter at the time and you clear throat, glancing away. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“hm.” nanami looks at you unconvinced. he takes a step closer. “it couldn’t have been that you were doing anything naughty in there, right?”

“o-of course not,” you say, hating how guilty you sound.

thankfully, nanami doesn’t press you any further. “good. i mean, no one else heard you… but it would’ve been bad if someone did.” he grabs a few of the items from the counter and walks over to the bed. “now, where would you like me to massage this time?”

sitting back, you make a vague gesture. “just—continue where we left off. same as before.”

nanami raises an eyebrow. “come on, now. let’s be a bit more honest,” he says, pausing to lick his lips. “we both know what you’re really here for.”

“everywhere,” you blurt out, arousal hitting you without warning. “my whole body… the front this time, too. make me feel good.”

eyes darkening with desire, nanami nods, pleased with your answer. “much better. we’ll start with you lying down on the bed again.”

you position yourself the same as last time, on your stomach with your face down and legs spreading apart instinctively. you hear nanami chuckle at your eagerness.

soon, oil is poured over your back, warm hands spreading it all over. your muscles relax at once and you’re reminded of how skilled nanami is. along your spine, he applies pressure to his palms, drawing out soft sounds from you. nanami runs his hands parallel, gliding them down all the way to your legs, then back up again, and repeating the process until heat starts to coil inside you.

after a moment, nanami asks, with just a hint of amusement in his voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“nothing,” you mumble. a lie, obviously. there’s only one thing that could be occupying your mind while nanami is touching you like this, rubbing your body sensually, and that’s—

“hm.” nanami says. “want to know what i’m thinking about?”

“wh-what?”

“how much i want to fuck you.” nanami’s voice is low and he uses both hands to squeeze your ass over the towel. in response, you moan, arousal hitting you hard. “how horny you make me. i've been thinking about it since our last session…”

breath hitching, you feel a rush of heat spreading throughout your body like wildfire, a wetness starting to soak your pussy. it’s no secret that you’ve been imagining the same scenario for the past few days, every second that you’ve been apart.

“how long has it been since you’ve had sex, darling?”

“ah—i don’t know. weeks, maybe,” you say, exhaling. you’re losing himself to the sensation of nanami’s hands as he moves them again, this time drawing circles on your inner thighs. “months.”

skirting along the edge of the towel, nanami’s fingers slip under just for a second to brush against your ass. “and how are you feeling? pent up from all those months without relief?”

“y-yeah.” you swallow hard. you’ve been more on edge than you’d like to admit, more irritable in general the longer you go without getting laid. sometimes, you’ll be flooded with dirty thoughts at the most inappropriate times, often waking up to wet dreams and an ache in your pussy to be filled.

“mm, and do you miss it? having sex?” nanami’s hot breath is right by your ear, a low whisper when he asks, “getting fucked?”

shuddering, you can’t help but moan softly. “yes.”

“it’s not enough to satisfy the craving by yourself, is it? it’s been so long…” nanami murmurs. “you want someone there with you, someone to touch you, someone to make you feel good.”

“kento… oh…”

last time, this was the point in the massage when he had stopped. but nanami shows no signs of slowing down, and even when his hands lift from your body, he makes sure that you know he’s not done yet.

“don’t worry, i’ll take good care of you today,” nanami tells you, and you’re hit with another wave of arousal. “now, turn around for me.”

you do as you’re told, flipping over on the bed to lie on your back, facing up at the ceiling. your heart hammers away in your chest as nanami eyes you up and down. you expect him to start working down from your shoulders, but he seems to have other plans when his hands move directly to untie the towel around your waist.

“w-wait, i—”

pausing, nanami glances at you, a smirk on his face. “what’s wrong? are you embarrassed that you’re wet already?” he slides the towel lower just a little. “have you forgotten how you were begging for it last time?”

nanami doesn’t wait for you to reply before unwrapping the towel all the way. like this, you can’t hide your desire anymore. and you’re more than aware of how wet you’ve gotten, pussy dripping and soaking the bed. you see nanami’s gaze flicker down, pausing in his actions to admire your body. you feel so exposed like this, naked on the bed while presenting yourself to him, and the tension between you grows thicker by the second. it’s all so arousing.

taking the bottle of oil, nanami holds it over you and pours out the liquid directly so that it leaves a trail from your chest all the way to your stomach. you can’t help but flinch slightly, feeling it tickle as it drips. a few drops fall directly onto your pussy, causing it to throb, and your breath hitches as you bite back a moan. nanami licks his lips and then his hands are on you again.

first, he runs a single finger down the center of your body, between your breasts, over your stomach, stopping just before touching your pussy, above your clit. the process is slow. slow and sensual. spreading the rest of the oil evenly across your skin, nanami takes his time in feeling you all over, making the anticipation build and build inside you.

next, your breasts are the main area of focus as he draws large circles on both sides, dipping near your armpits, along the underside, and trailing back up the center. slowly, the circles get smaller with each round, closing in on your nipples. but as soon as he’s about to come into contact with those hardened nubs, nanami retreats and starts all over again. he does it three more times—large circles spiraling closer, closer, closer. tracing just around it. caressing the sides. and you always think that this time, this time, he’s going to finally reach your nipples.

he never does. you groan, frustrated. it’s the first time you’ve experienced something like this; the first time you’ve ever wanted your nipples to be touched so badly. the worst part is that it’s really getting to you, turned on from barely anything. your pussy begs for attention, leaking more of your arousal as you mentally curse nanami for being such a fucking tease.

at that moment, nanami leans in so that his mouth is hovering just above one of your breasts and your heart pounds at the possibility of what’s to come. but all he does is blow against it gently and chuckle.

“your nipples are so hard…” his tongue pokes out, swirling it in the air just above your skin, exactly like how he would if he were to suck and lick at the sensitive nub. he holds your gaze but never makes contact with his tongue. still, you can feel the phantom sensations there, and you want so badly for him to take you in his mouth. “want me to touch you?”

god, yes. you let out a whine. all of this teasing is going straight to your pussy, so wet with desire. but nanami’s mouth retreats and he goes back to using his hands, circling your breasts with his fingers.

when you don’t think that you could take it anymore, you feel it—a single finger brushing across both your nipples, just grazing them, the lightest of touches. you’re so turned on at this point, the anticipation having built up inside you, that you gasp, squirming on the spot as you try to adjust to the sudden, unexpected jolt of pleasure.

“ah—”

“look at you. so sensitive, so riled up from barely anything,” nanami says, waiting for you to regain your composure.

it’s not your fault. nanami made sure that your body would be extra responsive by taking it slow, making you crave it, and one barely-there touch is hardly enough to satisfy you. but that’s all you get for a while as nanami repeats his actions with the sole mission of making the experience as agonizing as possible for you.

eventually, when you least expect it, the pattern changes. nanami flattens his hands over your nipples and rubs them, going from palms to fingertips, the oil adding a delicious glide to every movement. he grabs both your breasts and fondles them, massages them. cupping them with his palms and squeezing with his large hands.

“ohh…” you moan, arching into the touch. soon, nanami switches to grasping your nipples between his fingers, pinching the delicate nubs with the perfect amount of pressure, and it sends a rush of sensation throughout your body. you whimper. “fuck, k-kento…”

“does it turn you on when i play with your nipples?” nanami asks, hyperattentive, watching every reaction that your body makes. “such a naughty girl.”

fuck, it’s only your second session here but nanami has already figured out your body’s weaknesses, all of your most sensitive areas, the erogenous zones, and how to take you apart. you shouldn’t be falling for every one of nanami’s tricks. you shouldn’t be this easy. but you gave up control the moment you laid down on this bed, and nanami just seems to have that effect on you.

having gotten the reaction he wanted, nanami moves on. he had spent so long playing with your nipples that you almost forgot the feeling of those tantalizing hands on the rest of his body. but you’re quickly reminded when he travels down to your stomach, your lower abdomen, purposely avoiding your pussy and going straight to your legs.

it’s the assault on your inner thighs that eventually ruins you. because nanami is running his hands up your thighs, stopping right at your pelvis, and doing it over and over and over—repeatedly, for what seems like forever. occasionally, his fingertips will brush against the outside of your folds, but the touch is fleeting and never goes any further than that, only serving to taunt you.

you groan, wishing nanami would just get on with it. when you express this, you only get an amused chuckle in response.

“so impatient. and you’re all wet for me already…” nanami says, those words making you even more aroused. “that’s it, let your body crave it. i would love to eat you out and taste you on my tongue.”

you certainly wouldn’t complain if he did just that. but nanami only spreads your legs and runs a finger past your pussy, spreading your wetness there. he circles your clit once, and you moan. then he goes further down until he finds your entrance but doesn’t push inside. he continues to do that—playing with you, teasing you, turning you into a writhing mess on the bed.

oh, you want him so bad. you’ve never wanted a man this fucking bad before. your body is burning, the need and desire growing exponentially by the second.

“there are so many things i want to do to you.” nanami swallows, looking like he wants to devour you but is doing everything he can to hold himself back. “but i’ll keep it simple for today. you look like you won’t be able to last much longer, anyway.”

without warning, nanami slides his hand back up to your clit, pinching it between two fingers, slick with oil. your entire body jolts as you feel pressure being applied there, a choked out moan escaping your lips. nanami rolls the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub and you throb at his touch, breathing significantly harder now.

it had already been overwhelming before, but now your whole body burns with pleasure, with desire—wild and untamed. heat sears through you, fast, hot, making you somewhat delirious. you lose control of yourself as you buck up and circle your hips, trying to feel more of it.

“remember, this is still a massage,” nanami says, voice low, and you’re not sure who he’s trying to fool. he pinches you again, the perfect amount of pressure, and you arch off the bed with a whimper. “all i’m doing is giving you a massage…”

his hand flattens and he rubs your clit up and down, then in circles, slow at first and gradually increasing in speed. there’s no pattern to his movements; nanami is completely unpredictable, leaving you guessing, never allowing you to adjust to the sensation at any given moment. all you can do is lie there and take it, at his mercy, chasing after whatever he’s willing to give you. but you can’t exactly complain, though, not when it feels this fucking good.

“k-kento—” you cry out as all your nerves ignite at once, tingles of pleasure spreading all throughout your body.

“is this how you touched yourself in the changeroom last time?” the pace quickens, nanami drawing tight circles around your clit. “did you imagine that i was the one touching you? getting you closer and closer?”

moaning, you try to reply but your head is swimming with pleasure and it’s infinitely more arousing now that nanami is really here, playing with your pussy. it’s not just a fantasy anymore.

and then—it hits you fast, hard, entirely by surprise. one minute nanami is changing up his rhythm and the next, you find yourself bucking into the air uncontrollably, moaning loud and needy, and fuck, you’re—oh god, you’re going to come, you’re going to come—

“not yet, baby,” nanami says, voice low and stern. a command. his hand immediately withdraws from your body, keeping you right on the edge but never tipping over, and instead moves to hold your hips in place as you convulse on the bed, helpless to ride it out as your orgasm ebbs away. your pussy throbs and throbs, aching, dripping with your wetness. you’re left painfully unsatisfied. fuck, it’s not fair.

chest heaving, you whimper, having been denied your release. your whole body is on fire, and you’re so fucking turned on. you need to come. you need to come so fucking bad.

“kento,” you plead, willing to do anything to get his hands back on you. if this gets drawn out any longer, you’re not sure if you’ll survive. “kento, please—i’m—i can’t—please—”

almost idly, nanami trails a hand around the outside of your pussy, keeping his touch gentle like he has all the time in the world. it’s only a single finger grazing against you, but your hips flinch, moaning at the feeling of it. “do you really want it to end that quickly? i would love to see how desperate you can get. it won’t take much more for you to come, will it?”

you’re trembling and your pussy throbs every time nanami makes contact with it. you’re still unbelievably close to the edge despite calming down a bit now, and you’re sure that all it’ll take is a bit more stimulation from nanami before you reach your climax.

“can you—oh,” you start, words dissolving into a moan as nanami touches you again, fingers prodding at your entrance this time. it takes deliberate effort for you to gather your thoughts and finish the sentence, but you’ve become shameless, too aroused and horny to maintain any sense of dignity. “c-can you fuck me instead? i wanna—hah—wanna come on your cock.”

“mm, tempting. really tempting. but i don’t think so,” nanami tells you. his fingers latch onto your clit again, circling around it faster than before, and it’s so fucking good, so distracting that you’re barely able to hang on to his words. “i won’t fuck you today. i want to get you really desperate for it, let the tension build up until it makes you lose control. and when i finally give you what you want—tomorrow, or the next day, or even a week from now—i’ll break you apart slowly and leave you writhing under me. think of how good it’ll feel to finally have my cock in you after all this time, hard and aching inside you, filling up that tight little pussy.”

whimpering, you’re not even able to formulate a reply. that has to be the hottest proposal you’ve ever heard, like nanami has somehow figured out all of your dirtiest fantasies and is making them a reality. your mind is clouded with an arousal so strong that you’re struggling to process everything. but nanami isn’t even done yet.

“eventually, if i fuck you… when i fuck you, i’m going to take you apart slowly and push you to your limits until you show me just how badly you need it. you’ll be shaking under me, begging to have my cock in you. god, darling, i’ve wanted to ruin you since our first session together.”

you moan brokenly, hips thrusting wildly on the bed in response to his words. holy shit. nanami knows exactly how to get you all worked up. what’s worse is that every word he says is a cruel reminder that his cock isn’t inside you, isn’t fucking you, isn’t even out of those tight, tight pants yet.

“hah—fuck, your cock—n-need your cock—”

“i’ll give you something just as good.” nanami is watching you intensely, taking in the way your body responds. he bends your legs, hands sliding almost innocently across your entrance. “i can massage your insides. how does that sound?”

it sounds incredibly fucking hot, that’s what. and suddenly, you’ve never desired anything so badly before. “y-yeah—ngh, please—”

“spread your legs for me, baby,” nanami tell you. doing as you’re told, you follow his guidance to expose your pussy even more, aroused and horny beyond belief. “good girl. you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

a finger runs along the outside of your pussy, slick with oil, and you choke out a moan, lifting your hips to try and feel more of it. thankfully, it goes in soon enough, not wasting any time, and nanami sinks a finger into you, the slick oil helping to ease his length inside. you let out a startled gasp as he goes deeper and deeper, past the first and second knuckle, all the way until his whole finger has been swallowed up.

once he’s all the way in, nanami groans at the tightness that envelopes him, the way you clam down as if refusing to let him go. but he starts pulling back out, inch by inch, and you’re helpless to it; all you can do is moan at how good it feels. he pumps it in and out a few times almost experimentally, taking in how quickly you’re falling apart on the bed before him.

“you can imagine that it’s my cock fucking you if that helps,” nanami whispers in your ear and the suggestion has you whimpering. “but of course, my cock is bigger than this. think you can take another?”

“Y-yes—ah—yes, yes, more—”

“look at me,” nanami says, waiting until you turn your head before adding a second digit, stretching you open. you gasp, panting as soon as he starts to thrust into you properly. “see how hard i am because of you? my cock feels like it’s going to burst out of these pants.”

and it’s true; your gaze falls on nanami’s bulge, so hot and obscene within the confines of his pants. the fabric shifts every time it twitches, pulsing like it’s trying to break out, wet and damp where the tip is. nanami’s free hand moves to touch himself, hips rolling into his palms, giving himself some relief for the very first time.

god, you swallow. you would do anything to have him pull out his cock already.

but nanami’s only goal seems to be to get you as worked up as possible, bringing you right to the edge with his dirty words. “mm, yeah. think about how fucking good it’ll feel to have my cock throbbing inside you. thrusting into your tight little pussy, nice and deep.”

his fingers curl, sending an unexpected jolt through your entire body. you cry out, back arching off the bed, head thrown back as an intense wave of pleasure overtakes you. “a-ah—! shit, kento—o-oh my god—”

grinning, nanami makes sure to aim for the same place again. “is this the spot? does it feel good here?”

“hah—fuck—y-yeah, good—hng, so fucking good—”

nanami hums, but the next few thrusts he makes purposely avoids your g-spot. each one is shallower than the last and you can’t help but squirm as you get increasingly frustrated, until he pulls out altogether.

“that’s a good look on you. it seriously turns me on to see how desperate you are now,” nanami says, licking his lips. his eyes are dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of you, running his hands along your thighs and watching your pussy throb. “it’s almost a shame we have to end things here today.”

you take a few seconds to process what he’s saying, and once you do, all you can think is, no, no. not again. you didn’t get to come yet. you need more, need your release, need those fingers back in you. need to—

“th-that’s it?” you ask in disbelief when it becomes clear that nanami isn’t going to continue. the towel is wrapped around you once again. your pussy aches in protest at how abruptly things ended, still dripping and dripping and dripping with unresolved arousal.

fuck. you refuse to let nanami leave him like this again; you’re determined to get a better outcome, unlike last time when you had to get yourself off in the changeroom. you’ll break down and beg if you have to. you want to come on nanami’s cock, on nanami’s fingers, and you know that nanami wants it, too. but whenever it seems that he’s about to go further, he always stops, right when you’re most anticipating it.

it’s especially frustrating because he’s gotten you all worked up, so fucking horny that you can hardly even think straight, but it never goes far enough for you to be fully satisfied. you’re kept on the brink of release, never allowed to come. it’s so cruel. it only works to turn you on more, to an unbearable degree.

but nanami doesn’t even acknowledge it. he only looks at you innocently. “our time is up for today,” he says, then leans in close, voice lowering to a whisper. “did you really think that i would let you come so easily? you’ve been a very naughty girl.”

fuck, that shouldn’t sound as hot and sexy as it does. it definitely shouldn’t be making you even more turned on.

“i—” shit, you think. you glance down at nanami’s very obvious erection, the desire he clearly has, too. i want your cock—want you to fuck me. but it’s clear that he doesn’t plan on going any further today, so you only manage to stammer out, “i don’t think i can go out like this.”

because you’re in arguably a worse state than nanami. despite the towel doing the bare minimum of hiding your arousal, your legs are still trembling slightly and the wetness between your legs isn’t going away.

“ah.” nanami’s eyes flicker down as he licks his lips. “you’re right, we can’t have you leaving like that. why don’t you take care of yourself now?”

you stare at him. when nanami only meets your gaze expectantly, you ask, “you mean… right here?”

“yes. we pride ourselves on customer satisfaction, you know. i can’t let you go when you clearly still have… unfinished business.” nanami smirks, evidently smug for getting you to such a state. “and don’t mind me. there’s still some time before the next appointment, so i’ll just be cleaning up the room.”

and you can’t believe it. what nanami is essentially asking you to do is masturbate, get yourself off, while you’re being watched.

the idea of it is crazy. but it’s undeniably hot, too. so fucking hot.

a few steps away, nanami is busying himself with setting up the equipment, but it’s obvious that he never strays too far. he’s still paying attention, making sure to keep you in his peripheral vision, intent on not missing out on anything.

hesitantly, you unwrap the towel around your waist until you’re fully naked once more. you sigh and glance down at yourself. it’s almost embarrassing because it’s far too noticeable just how fucking horny you are, with the way your pussy is swollen and so, so wet, making a mess on the bed.

across the room, nanami’s movements have stopped. he’s openly staring at you now, taking in the sight of you greedily. there’s hunger in his gaze as he grips the counter next to him, transfixed on the way your pussy is fully exposed, practically begging for attention.

you make eye contact, and a charge of tension passes between you before nanami nods once. “go on. show me how you make yourself feel good.”

so, you get comfortable again on the bed, hyperaware that your every action is being watched. it makes you more excited than you’d ever admit as the shame and embarrassment and humiliation all mix together with intense arousal, clouding your mind. you run your hands over your own body, starting with your breasts, cupping them and teasing your hardened nipples. just like nanami did earlier. soft moans escape you, pleasure surging throughout as you turn your head to look at nanami with half-lidded eyes.

nanami remains silent, but his expression gives him away. there’s no mistake that this is turning him on too, and you swear that you see him twitching in his pants, the fabric shifting over his bulge. but still, he’s far too composed, and you want to break down his self-control, get him so worked up that he can’t resist coming over and fucking you anymore.

traveling down your chest, across the planes of his stomach, your hands come to a stop at your hips. you spread your legs, bending your knees so that your feet are planted flat on the bed, giving you easier access to your aching pussy.

you’ve waited long enough. the slow tease of nanami’s massage and the beyond erotic proposal of masturbating in front of him have all caught up to you and you can’t delay this any longer. trailing a hand down to your entrance, you push a finger inside and immediately moan at the feeling of being filled again.

“fuck… yes,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as you give yourself over to the sensation. you’ve only just touched himself, barely even started at all, but you’re already feeling it.

it’s hot and wet inside your pussy, the oil helping to loosen you up. you drag your finger, moving in and out of yourself, feeling how needy and pent-up you are as your hips roll slightly, growing impatient. you squeeze a second finger inside. moaning, you scissor them apart and pleasure floods through you.

and then you begin to thrust, going at a fairly slow pace. but still, it’s enough to have your thighs shaking, so fucking sensitive. you can feel yourself falling apart.

your fingers curl, angled just right, and your nerves come to life, firing jolts all the way up your spine. “o-oh—ngh, shit—kento—”

at the sound of nanami’s name slipping past your lips, mixed in with a moan, you hear the hitch of a breath to your side. opening your eyes again, you blink to clear your vision, and see that nanami has made his way over to the bed, standing right beside you. something about him being this close, watching over you with his cock hard and bulging in his pants, has your arousal spiking.

suddenly, you can’t stand the slow buildup anymore. your speed increases, thrusting into yourself faster before you even realize it, pushing as deep as you can go. the rush of pleasure is immediate, and your head falls back, breaths growing ragged. there’s a moan but this time it doesn’t come from you; nanami is the one who made the sound, low and strained. he looks like he’s at his limit just by being there as a bystander, watching you on display.

“fuck, that’s it,” nanami encourages you, fingers twitching like he wants to reach out and touch. replace your fingers with his own. “in and out, steady thrusts. just like that…”

receiving instructions from nanami only makes you more turned on. your hips lift off the bed involuntarily and you can’t help staring at the twitching erection in his pants. “ah, feels—feels so good—"

“i bet it does,” nanami says. “look at how much you’re getting off on this. you secretly like being watched, don’t you?”

“f-fuck,” you break off into a moan. the answer to his question is evident in the way you’re dripping from your pussy, walls clenching around your own fingers.

and nanami must notice it too because he tells you, “don’t forget about your clit, baby. i know you like it there.”

reaching down with your other hand, you circle around your sensitive clit, body jerking at the added stimulation. and this is going to be your undoing, you know, because you feel the familiar buildup of your orgasm reaching a peak inside you, the crescendo of something bigger. already, you feel like you could come at any moment.

on top of that, nanami is relentless. “good girl,” he murmurs. “faster now. get yourself real close for me.”

you obey because you have no choice, because nanami has always been the one in control here. it’s getting dangerous now as you finger yourself faster, drawing tight circles around your clit, whining at the pure pleasure that’s accumulating in your stomach, between your legs. and you’re squirming, unable to contain the sheer amount of arousal inside you.

“shit—hah—o-oh my god, fuck, fuck—” you moan brokenly. then you use all of your willpower to force yourself to stop, both hands pulling away. your hips buck up in the air desperately, but you don’t want to come yet. you look over at nanami, chest heaving, and plead, “i-i want you, kento…”

growling, nanami grips onto the side of the bed, fingers digging into it to physically restrain himself. you can see the way the muscles of his arms contract, so strong, so tense. holding himself back.

“trust me, i want to fuck you so damn bad,” nanami says, and his voice alone is enough to make you more aroused. “you have no idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you. if it weren’t for my next appointment, i would bend you over right here and have my way with you until you’re screaming.” he swallows, gaze dark and filled with desire. “but today, it’s enough for me to just watch your pleasure. so, be a good girl for me and use your fingers to fuck that pretty pussy of yours and get yourself off properly this time.”

holy fuck. you’re throbbing hard just from those words alone, before you even touch yourself again. you can’t possibly resist; your hand moves automatically to do as you’re told, two fingers sinking into yourself again, pumping in and out with urgency. your other hand resumes its assault on your clit, gasping and moaning, overwhelmed.

there’s no buildup this time—you go fast and hard right away, too fucking turned on to make yourself wait any longer. beside you, nanami hums with approval, always watching.

“hah—hah—ah—yes, k-kento—kento—”

“god, you’re so fucking hot,” nanami says. “find your g-spot for me. come on, baby. i want to see you make yourself come.”

you cry out when you do exactly what nanami tells you, applying pressure to the most sensitive nerves inside you. your hips are thrusting wildly, out of control, and all of the stimulation combined is bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“oh fuck, o-oh fuck—” you choke out a moan, sounding wrecked. “i-i can’t—ngh, can’t take it anymore—i’m—hah—i’m gonna—”

nanami groans. “yeah, let it out. make yourself come.” his voice is strained, eyes transfixed on your body. “that’s it, such a good girl… make a mess of yourself and come for me.”

god. god. the dirty talk has your pussy throbbing, throbbing, clenching tight around your fingers, preparing for your release. you’re trembling, so close to being pushed past the limit. so fucking close. there’s no way you’ll last much longer now.

“hng—fuck—” once again, your eyes land on nanami’s cock in his pants, bulging out, stretching the fabric thin, and it’s the thought of his cock—touching it, sucking on it, fuck, having it inside you, stretching you open and filling you up—that eventually tips you over. you moan loud. “ah, c-coming—i’m coming—”

your release hits you less than a second later. you pump your fingers, curling to your g-spot, other hand rubbing your clit urgently, and that does it for you, back arching beautifully off the bed as your orgasm crashes through your body. your mouth falls open in a silent cry. it’s mind-numbing, absolutely filthy, pussy pulsing and pulsing. you ride out the pleasure in waves, panting, feeling like you might lose consciousness from how good it is.

in you half-delirious state, slowly coming down from your orgasm, you look up at nanami. you’re both impressed and extremely frustrated at his level of self-control. throughout the entire session, he never touched himself even once, despite the fact that you know he must be aching for it, so hard that it has to be painful. and he’s gotten no relief at all, his cock still locked away in the confines of his pants this whole time, occasionally twitching and throbbing without any stimulation.

maybe it’s because the timing just didn’t work out for the two of you. maybe nanami really does have to prepare for his next client. but if your positions were reversed and you happened to be the one watching nanami masturbate, such an erotic and filthy sight at your place of work, you has no doubt that you would’ve succumbed long ago.

you wonder, what would it take for nanami to finally give in? this is the second time that you’ve had to get off using your own hands at the massage parlor. and you just came, which felt good, incredible, but you’re still left somewhat unsatisfied because what you really wants is for nanami to fuck you already.

getting up from the bed, you brush a hand against the bulge between nanami’s legs. nothing more than a graze of your fingers. but that alone is enough to make him gasp, swallowing back the moan rising in his throat.

you asks, “can you really go back to work like this?”

nanami swats your hand away, cursing. he shuts his eyes to even out his breathing before settling his gaze on you again. “fuck, are you still that horny?”

grinning, you lick your lips. “if i say that i am, will you finally fuck me?”

nanami sucks in a breath, glancing over at the clock. “you really should go now. i wasn’t lying when i said that the next client will be here any minute.”

it’s not exactly the answer you were looking for, but you know when to accept your loss and drop the subject. for now, at least.

“i’ll go for today, but you’ve teased me twice already,” you say. then you lean forward, whispering into his ear, “next time i come, i won’t be leaving until i get what i want.”

part 3 will be the last part! also tumblr has been buggy recently and won’t let me tag some people... i’m sorry if your name is here but you didn’t get a notification :(

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian @l0rdgeosupport3rr @minni-creations @fos-tis-zois @the-reas0n-is-y0u @cantfeelherface @rxmbzzz @lysaray @zelzablues @str4wbrrycandy @that-goth-bisexual @simping4u @iminlovewqr0w @sharks31 @pseudowho @jisoonunn @outkasti @anathemaspeaks @fushigur0slut4 @barryatsumu @d0nk3y-k0ng @shasaaa15 @wil10wthetree @maskedpacific @genshingeeksworld @itsnotmelo

(comment to be added!)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami imagine #nanami x reader #naughtyjjk

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wttcsms · 5 months ago

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short n' sweet welcome to wttcsms' 2024 kinktober !! inspired by sabrina carpenter's latest (ovulation) album, this is a collection featuring fics that are, just like the song inspo, short, sometimes sweet, definitely horny ᡣ𐭩 ( fem!reader )

the espresso edit is . . . fun! flirty! it's featuring dynamics where you're seemingly out of reach and he can't get you out of his head. reader playing coy + he's getting desperate for you.

. ݁₊ ⊹ now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night . ݁˖ . ݁ jealous sex ! seishiro nagi┆there's nothing nagi values more than getting his rest, but thoughts of you have been keeping him wide awake at night. someone has to help him get rid of all this annoying restless energy — and it has to be you, the whole entire reason why his sleeping schedule is fucked. [releases oct. 4] + soft yandere!nagi

. ݁₊ ⊹ when they act this way (i know i got 'em) . ݁˖ . ݁ angry & rough sex ! kiyoomi sakusa┆kiyoomi sakusa is used to getting what he wants, and what he wants most right now is you. too bad you're the biggest fucking tease in the world. fine by him, though. because when he gets his hands on you — and he will — you're going to see what exactly all your thirst traps did for him. [releases oct. 5] + overstimulation

the juno edit is . . . domesticity ᡣ𐭩 newlywed life, fucking in the kitchen, "welcome back from work" blowjobs — and a raging breeding kink.

. ݁₊ ⊹ let you lock me down tonight . ݁˖ . ݁ marathon sex ! yoichi isagi┆high off of ending the soccer season with a world cup win secured, your newlywed husband showers you in all the attention he couldn't give you when he was too busy being the world's best striker. [releases oct. 11] + breeding, wet n' messy

. ݁₊ ⊹ if you love me right, then who knows? . ݁˖ . ݁ size kink ! jinchul woo┆you decide it's time to let your beloved bodyguard relax. [releases oct. 12] + breeding, roleplaying(?) domesticity

. ݁₊ ⊹ adore me, mark your territory . ݁˖ . ݁ corruption kink ! kenyu yukimiya┆after having to endure locker room conversation since his blue lock days all the way up to his pro days, yukimiya realizes that if he wants to show you just how serious he is about his thoughts on his relationship with you, he needs to make his mark on you. [releases oct. 25] + dark(ish) content, virginity loss [both you + yukimiya], you two attended the same private catholic high school, mentions of purity culture, manipulative!yuki, coercion, very naive reader, talks of marriage, breeding

the bed chem edit is . . . sexual tension. it's being in an enclosed space with each other immediately after the two of you just had the nastiest wet dreams about each other.

. ݁₊ ⊹ come right on me (i mean camaraderie!) . ݁˖ . ݁ praise kink ! tetsurou kuroo┆starting a new job is scary, especially when it seems like you can't do anything correctly. good thing that your manager is always so kind and reassuring and supportive. when a client meeting ends terribly and runs so late that the two of you have to check into a hotel to spend the night, your sweet manager knows a good way to cheer you up... [releases oct. 18] + oh no!!! there's only one bed!!!, work senpai!kuroo (im sorry, you do call him senpai on occasion), sex in an enclosed, semi-public space (the office's storage closet)

. ݁₊ ⊹ talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things . ݁˖ . ݁ sex pollen ! soshiro hoshina┆after narrowly avoiding a kaiju attack unharmed, you think you’ve gotten away unscathed until you start feeling an unfamiliar, unsatiable heat building inside of you. it’s almost similar to the funny butterflies you get in your tummy when you see your older brother’s rival, third division vice captain soshiro hoshina. and wouldn’t you know it: you just so happen to cross paths with him. [releases oct. 19] + love confessions, forbidden romance-ish, narumi’s younger+civilian sister!reader, soft dom!hoshina, biting [look at his lil fangs, he HAS to be a biter], getting caught by narumi at the end

#haikyuu x reader #blue lock x reader #kn8 x reader #solo leveling x reader #smut #yoichi isagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #jinchul woo x reader #kenyu yukimiya x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #soshiro hoshina x reader

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wintrwinchestr · 9 months ago

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an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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covenofagatha · 1 month ago

Text

'tis the damn season

You're in town for the holidays for the first time in seven years and you run into your old girlfriend.

Word count: 5100

Warnings: sex, fingering, oral, thigh grinding, angst

It’s been seven years since you’ve been back in Westview.

And yet, as you drive back down the roads in the town where you grew up in, it seems like nothing has changed at all.

You moved away after college to chase your dreams of becoming an actress in Los Angeles, leaving behind very little here.

It had worked out; you had landed some roles in TV shows and movies, and you hadn’t been back since.

Your parents had come to see you for most of the holidays wherever you were filming, and the years had just flown by. But this December, you had no projects in the works and they had begged you to come home.

So you agreed.

One day before Christmas, you pull up to the two-story house where you spent your entire childhood through college years. The outside lights are on, like they always were when you would get home late or go for a run or bring friends over. You used to joke that it was because your parents didn’t want you forgetting which house was theirs, but now you know it’s because they wanted to make sure you always knew to come back.

“Yoohoo,” you hear someone behind you say. You turn around as you’re unloading your suitcase from the car to find Sharon Davis, the widow who lives next door standing there, looking pleased as ever.

“Mrs. Davis,” you greet pleasantly. She holds her arms out to you and you step willingly into her embrace. The older woman had been your babysitter when you were younger and you remember the plates of freshly baked cookies she always had.

She pulls back and gives you the once-over, squeezing your biceps. “Well, just look at you, hon. A movie star! How exciting.”

You chuckle and tug on your earlobe, a habit you’ve always had when people compliment you. “Thank you. So, how have you been? How are things here?”

“Oh, things have been good,” Sharon says, waving her hands. “They built a new school, and that old diner? They tore it down!”

“No,” you gasp, not really sure which one she’s talking about.

Mrs. Davis nods like your mock outrage is the appropriate level. “And – oh, what was that girl’s name?”

Your brows crinkle. “What girl?”

“You know, the one you used to hang out with,” she says, snapping her fingers, and you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Amelia…Abby…Addison…”

“Agatha?” You offer, knowing that’s exactly who she’s thinking of. Your heart beat picks up.

She points at you. “Yes, Agatha! Well, I didn’t think anything of it until I saw you just now, but she’s been out and about with that Rio Vidal lady. Between you and me, I thought you and her made a better pair. Say, whatever happened with you two?”

Your jaw clenches so hard you think you might crack a tooth. But thankfully, this is the exact moment when your parents decide to open the door and shout your name.

“Happy Holidays, Mrs. Davis,” you say hastily, turning towards your mom who throws her arms around you. Now that you think about it, you haven’t seen them in close to a year.

When she finally lets go of you, you give your dad a hug, and then your mom pulls you back in again. You let her, secretly glad to be home.

“Well, just look at you,” your mom says, tutting. “Do they even feed you in LA? Come on in, I’ve put on a roast. Stan, grab her suitcase.” Your dad does as he’s told, and you give Mrs. Davis a weak wave, her words still echoing in your head.

You’re ushered through the front door and to the kitchen table, to the seat that you had claimed as yours all those years ago. The house still looks exactly the same, the pictures, the macaroni art you made in third grade, the first place in the spelling bee certificate hung on the fridge.

It almost makes you tear up, the amount of history they kept. You can hear the thud of your suitcase hitting the stairs as your dad brings it up to your room and your mom busies herself with setting the table, and you feel a longing pang in your chest for how things used to be.

In elementary school, you’d run downstairs while your mom chased you around with your clothes and your dad would catch you before both of them walked you to the bus stop. They’d pick you up there too, always together, and you would peer over the countertop to get a glimpse of what your mom was making for dinner.

In middle school, your dad would be tapping his foot by the front door waiting for you to finish texting and eating breakfast so he could drop you off. Your mom picked you up and then you would all sit in front of the television after dinner and catch up on whatever reality TV show you were watching.

In high school, you would scarfe down a bagel and rush out of the house, pressing a quick kiss to both of their cheeks. You’d come home and sit at the table, doing homework until late at night, while your dad would do the crossword and your mom would work on her latest sowing project next to you.

In college, they would give you your space, never prying too much and always having a home-cooked meal if you wanted one. When you started bringing Agatha home, they treated her like she was their second daughter. You would joke that they loved her more than they loved you, and you still remember how Agatha would wink at them, like it was their little secret.

And then bitterness rises up in you at Mrs. Davis’s words. Rio Vidal? You don’t care who she’s with now, it’s been seven years, but you don’t want to hear about it. If you really cared that much, you would’ve just asked Agatha.

You had known her since your first day of third grade when she had moved to town. She sat next to you and you became fast friends when you offered her your green marker during a coloring project.

The two of you had only grown closer through the rest of elementary school, middle school, and high school.

One day, in the middle of senior year, she had started going out with this girl from your Biology class and you didn’t know why you were so jealous. You thought it was just because you were her best friend and you felt like she was replacing you, but then she took her shirt off in front of you while changing for volleyball practice, and your mouth went dry.

Oh.

You weren’t jealous because you were her friend. You were jealous because you were in love with her.

It was hard not to be, with her long hair and blue eyes and her easy smile, her entire personality, the way she would look at you like you were the only one in the world.

Her and the girl broke up, and you couldn’t hide how happy you were about it. But you had never imagined she would like you back, until one night, the two of you were laughing so hard you were almost crying in your bed around midnight, when she had suddenly leaned in and kissed you.

Immediately you kissed her back and she ended up holding a hand over your mouth while she fingered you that night in your childhood bed so your parents wouldn’t hear you.

You had asked her to be your girlfriend the next day, and a month later, she told you that she loved you. You said it back with no hesitation at all, knowing that she was the first person you ever meant it to.

And things were really good for the next four years. You’d gone to the same college, both of you living at home, and still found lots of time to hang out.

But you were a theater major in college, and things were really starting to go right for you. Agents had been in touch, asking you to fly out to all these places around the US. It was your dream. But Agatha was here, and she had to take care of her parents. She hadn’t even asked you to stay, knowing that it was always your goal to make it out of Westview. Still, you considered it, not wanting to leave her.

The decision tore you apart, but you ultimately chose to go.

You told Agatha that maybe you could do long-distance, and you would fly back whenever you could, and you could fly her out to see you, but nothing was ever the same after that.

There was a disconnect between you now, an ache in both of you, and you knew it was all your fault. She turned cold, colder than the New Jersey winter, and she didn’t even come to say goodbye when you left for the airport the last time you were here.

You’re happy she moved on, you tell yourself. It’s been seven years. You’ve “moved on,” dated your fair share of stars, leaving a trail of broken hearts down the road. You weren't sure what was wrong with you, and why you couldn’t feel the same toward anyone else though.

Your mom puts down the plate of food in front of you, the scent making your mouth water. It’s been too long since you’ve had a meal like this and you immediately dig in, the warmth helping you feel a little better about Agatha.

After dinner, you’re helping your parents clean up in the kitchen when your dad suddenly slaps his hand to his forehead.

“I forgot to get a pie crust for tomorrow,” he groans. On Christmas, it’s always been a family tradition to bake a pumpkin pie.

“Oh, don’t worry, dad,” you say, swiping your keys from the bowl on the island. “I’ll run to the store and get one before they close.” Before they can protest, you’re getting in your car and starting the familiar drive to the grocery store five minutes from your house.

You’re browsing the aisles, picking up the crust and seeing if there’s anything else you might need, when you hear a cart behind you. You automatically step closer to the shelves so they can pass, but the wheels stop right next to you.

“Hey there, superstar,” a voice says, a voice that you haven’t heard in seven years, except in your dreams. It’s the same pet name that had been thrown in your face scathingly when you’d chosen LA, but now, there’s a certain fondness to it.

Before you even turn, you know exactly who you’ll find. “Agatha,” you breathe, taking the woman in. She looks exactly the same, except for a few more lines on her forehead. Time has treated her very well and your heart hurts. She’s wearing a red dress and her long hair is flowing over her shoulders.

She gives you a soft smile. “Welcome back.”

“Oh, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat. “Um, how are you? How have you been?”

She nods. “Not too bad. What about you? How long are you in town for?” The awkwardness hangs over your heads like a sword about to fall.

“Just for a few days. I’m leaving on the 26th. I had Christmas off though, so thought I would come stop by for a bit. Good to see things haven’t changed around here,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.

“Well, good to see you,” she says and starts to push her cart but you grab onto it, desperation sinking her claws into your body. You refuse to let her walk away.

Agatha raises an eyebrow and you quickly let go. “Do you want to maybe, like, get a drink or something? Catch up?” You ask, trying to keep the pleading tone out of your voice but it leaks out anyway.

She chews on her lip and you want to cry. You haven’t realized how much you’ve missed her until now. “Okay,” Agatha says finally and you feel a weight lifted off you. “Let me get a few more things. Where do you want to go?”

“How about I just get a six pack and we go sit in my driveway? Like old times?” You know it’s a lot, but you just want to feel like you’re twenty-one with her again.

But she nods. “Yeah, sure. I’ll meet you there.” You bite the inside of your cheek before you can say something stupid about how she still remembers where you live.

You get the beers and the pie crust and drive home, wiping your palms on your jeans every so often. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just like meeting up with any of your old friends. You’ve known her since you were about eight years old.

It’s only about five minutes before Agatha pulls into the driveway next to you and turns off her car. You swallow hard before unlocking your door so she can slide into the passenger seat next to you.

“So, superstar,” she drawls, using her keychain to pop off the top to the beer bottle that you hand her. You wince preemptively at the name, worried that she’s going to cut deep. “How’s LA?”

An exhale slowly escapes you and you launch into telling her the same things you tell everyone about your recent projects and the people you’ve worked with and how one time on set, you kept saying a word wrong and you ended up having to do thirty-seven takes before the director finally changed the script.

Agatha hangs onto every word, sipping her beer but never breaking eye contact. When you’re finally done talking, she puts her hand on yours and it makes you gasp. “How are you?” She asks, and it makes you falter.

“I just told you–”

She cuts you off. “Come on. I know you better than that. Do you give that speech to anyone who asks? Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear, tell me how you’re really doing. I can tell when you’re not okay.”

It’s like a punch to the gut to realize that Agatha still knows you better than anyone else does, maybe even better than you know yourself. “Oh,” you say, voice croaking and you blink fast. “It’s a little lonely, if I’m being honest.” It’s the first time you’ve ever admitted it out loud.

In the past seven years, you’ve sailed through relationships, both romantic and platonic. Girlfriends never stuck around or you pushed them away, while friends were fair-weathered and only wanted to hang out because you’re famous.

Agatha never cared about any of that. You find yourself wondering what if you had stayed more than you’d like to admit. It seems like something was always going to bring you back to her.

Her face softens and she squeezes your hand. “I’m sorry.”

You give her a wry smile. “Don’t be. I chose it. I left. I left y-” Your voice breaks before you can say that you left her.

“No,” she shushes, and she cups your cheek to wipe the tear you didn’t even realize was falling. “You got out. That’s what you always wanted. I was so angry back then, but it’s okay now. I should’ve tried to stay in touch.”

“I could’ve come back,” you say but she shakes her head.

“It’s in the past. We can call it even now if you want,” she says and you laugh, finally getting some semblance of closure.

You nod and hiccup and her lips tug up into the smile you’ve missed so much. “Yeah, I’d really like that.”

And then the next thing you know, her mouth is on yours and her hands are grappling at your waist to get you into her lap over the center console. You hit your knee on the gear shift and hiss in pain, but then her tongue is sliding against yours and you couldn’t care less about anything besides her.

Seven years of yearning and pain are poured into the kiss and you can feel all the unspoken words flowing between you. She takes off your shirt, meaning you have to break away for a second. But it’s too long and you kiss her ferociously again to make up for it and all the other times you could’ve had her lips on you but didn’t.

She digs her nails into your waist and you whimper, rolling your hips against her lap, feeling more alive than you have in forever. Her hot breath is panting into your mouth and your teeth clash and it’s so messy, but it’s absolutely perfect.

Your fingers entangle into her long hair and she unbuttons your jeans but you pull back. Her eyes widen like she’s afraid she did something wrong. “Inside,” you whisper and she chuckles.

“Just like old times,” she agrees and opens the door so you can step off and drag her upstairs, still shirtless. Your parents have gone to bed so you drop the pie crust off in the kitchen and carefully pull her up the stairs. She pushes you against the wall when you’re halfway up and claims your swollen lips with her own and she has to swallow your moan when she fits a thigh between yours. “Gotta be quiet, babe,” she reminds you and you want her to just fuck you right there.

But you know that would be dangerous, and you don’t want your parents to catch you and Agatha again (the one time they did was mortifying) so you reluctantly push her back and lead the way to your bedroom.

It’s the first time you’ve been back in it and you momentarily lose yourself in reminiscing about the trophies on your dresser and the stuffed animals on the bed and the pictures from all the shows you acted in throughout your youth.

“They didn’t touch a thing, did they?” Agatha remarks, also remembering clearly what your room used to look like.

You can still see hers in the back of your mind if you try and wonder how much it’s changed since you last saw it.

Agatha advances on you, pulls you back in for a bruising kiss, sucks your bottom lip into her mouth.

“Wait,” you say, a strand of saliva connecting your mouth to hers and her eyes darken. “What about Rio?”

You don’t know much about Rio, only that she was in your grade in middle and high school. She was more of the wallflower type, intense and brooding and introverted. And weird.

Agatha laughs breathlessly. “How’d you hear about that?”

“Mrs. Davis,” you say and Agatha’s brows furrow.

“Who?”

You roll your eyes. “My neighbor? Remember, she would always bring cookies for the holidays? She said you’d been ‘out and about’ with Rio.”

Agatha snorts. “Yeah, like once or twice. Nosy neighbor isn’t a good look for her. But I promise you, I’m not with Rio. Or with anyone else.”

And that’s good enough for you to drag her back into a kiss and she walks you backwards, hands traveling up your bare back to unclasp your bra, until your thighs hit the bed. She pushes you down and kneels in front of you and your breath hitches.

You forgot what a pretty sight Agatha on her knees for you was.

You help her unbutton your jeans and you shimmy them off and she mouths at your pussy over your underwear. Your head falls back at the feeling.

It’s been so long since you’ve had sex that simply making out with Agatha has you already dripping.

Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s her.

“God, I missed you so much,” Agatha groans against you and her hot breath makes you whimper.

You sit up on your elbows so you can watch her slide off your underwear and then she drags her tongue slowly through your folds.

“Fuck, Agatha,” you whine when she swirls your wetness around your clit and you reach down to grip her hair.

She scrapes her teeth against your inner thigh in the way that always had your hips bucking and this time is no different. “Shh, superstar. Unless you want your parents interrupting.”

You nod and bite down on your lip as she resumes eating you out. She remembers every single thing that makes you tick: how to lick up inside you and curl her tongue to hit that spot and then suck on your clit and rake her nails down your thighs. She goes slowly at first, like she’s getting reacquainted with your pussy, but then she loses herself in the taste and her small noises of pleasure only add fuel to the fire growing inside your stomach.

Agatha starts sloppily devouring you, trying to lap up every drop of your wetness, and your hips are grinding up and down on her face, chasing the intense pleasure you haven’t gotten in seven years.

No one else came close to making you feel how she did.

“Agatha,” you moan quietly and she sucks roughly on your clit, thrusting two fingers in and twisting them roughly and it sends you spiraling over the edge. Your mind goes white and you can’t think for a good minute as she continues to slowly fuck you through the aftershocks.

She settles back onto her heels, face glistening with your wetness and the biggest smirk, and you yank her to you by the hair and lick it off her. And then you shove her over so she’s laying on the bed and you climb on top of her, positioning your weight on an arm next to her head.

You lean down and kiss her softly while your other hand pushes up the hem of her dress and cups her over her underwear. You gasp when you feel how absolutely soaked they are.

“Did the girls in LA fuck you that well?” Agatha asks smugly, still trying to regain some control even though she’s under you.

You pretend to think about it for a moment, tracing her slit through the cloth and watching Agatha’s face contort with pleasure. “Hmm, not really,” you answer honestly. You push her panties to the side and gather her wetness with two fingers. “And how about Rio?”

A teasing glint lights up in her eyes but when she opens her mouth to answer, you press those fingers into her and a groan comes out instead. You start slow and build up into a faster pace, also remembering exactly what she liked.

When you feel her walls flutter around you, you rub her clit with your thumb and she clenches tightly, a strangled gasp tearing itself from her throat. You curl and scissor your fingers and squeeze a third one in on a particularly harsh thrust and her body jerks. Her hair is fawned out on your pillow underneath her head and you almost lose focus while thinking about how beautiful she is.

“There we go, superstar,” she keens when you drop your head and start to suck kisses into her neck, wanting to leave a mark. You’re leaving in two days and you want her to still see the proof of what you did to her after you’re gone.

You nibble at the skin half covered by her dress until she takes the hint and pulls down the top so she can take her breasts out, not even bothering to take off her bra, and you roll her nipple on your tongue. She gasps when you tug at it with your teeth and you can feel her throb around you.

“Fuck, babe, I’m so close,” she says and it’s the old pet name in that desperate tone that makes you find the extra energy to fuck her even harder.

She cums all over your fingers with your mouth on her boob and she tugs you in for a hot, filthy kiss. When you pull out of her, she takes your fingers into her mouth and sucks them clean and you feel the heat in your gut come back.

But you flop on the bed next to her and she wraps an arm around you, running a hand through your hair.

“I really have missed you,” she says and it almost hurts you how sweet it is. You smile and try not to cry.

“I’ve missed you so much. I wish I didn’t have to go back so soon,” you say wistfully, part of you hoping that she asks you to postpone.

But she just looks down at your lips and back up to your eyes. “You should come back more. I’m not saying that we have to…you know, or anything, but it would be nice to stay in touch.”

You know that it would be just as unfair and selfish for you to ask her to wait for you as it would be for her to ask you to stay for her. So you nod and don’t ask for anything.

“Yeah, I can do that,” you say hoarsely and she cuddles against you even tighter.

Sleep comes faster than it has in years and when you wake up, you see that it’s almost 11 am on Christmas. You also can’t remember the last time you slept in this late. Agatha is still sleeping, curled around you like the cutest koala. Her warmth radiates off her and heats you up.

“Aggie,” you whisper, shaking her. Her eyes blink open and she gives you a lazy smile.

“I’ve missed waking up like this,” she rasps and there’s no denying the way your cheeks burn. She must see it too because she pulls you closer and allots her thigh between yours, guiding you with a hand on your hips.

You’re already needy, but you don’t know how much longer before your parents bring it upon themselves to get you out of bed. “Agatha, it’s late–”

“Better be quick then,” she teases and forces you down harder against the muscles in her leg. She flexes and sounds spill out of your mouth. “Yeah, superstar, just like that. You’re doing so well for me, babe, you look so nice and pretty riding my thigh like that.”

The memories from last night, the dirty words, the way she feels under you, and the fact that you’re having sex with Agatha has you cumming all over her leg in no time.

You get out of bed and attempt to find some nicer clothes to put on to go open presents with your family while Agatha lounges in your bed.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” She asks.

“We’re going to the airport around ten. Flight leaves at noon. What are you doing tonight? I might be able to get out for a bit after Christmas dinner.”

“Still making the pumpkin pie?” She asks and you smile and nod. She had come over for quite a few dinners and helped you make them. “Um, tonight my niece and nephews are coming into town. So I don’t think I’ll be able to get out. What about tomorrow morning?”

You frown. “My parents are going to take me out for brunch. I’m sure they’d be okay if you came, though.”

“I know you don’t get to see them often, I don’t want to impose.”

And for the first time since the grocery store, there’s the awkwardness again. You can’t help but think about where the two of you would be if you had stayed. You wouldn’t have the money or the fame or the experiences, but you’d have a simpler life, a life with the woman you think you’ve always loved.

It would be enough, right now.

“Well,” you say finally. “I’ll make more of an effort to come back when I can. It would be good to see my parents, too. And I can give you my personal number. Maybe you can come and see me sometimes as well.”

“I’d really like that,” Agatha says and you believe her. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and you punch your number in and call yourself so you have hers too. She didn’t change her number. “Can I go out the front door or do I need to sneak out the window like I used to?”

You laugh at the memories of her climbing the pergola to knock on your window in high school after your parents would go to bed.

“I think we can try and sneak you out the front door if you want,” you say and she grins. She finally climbs out of your bed and straightens herself up in the vanity while you try not to stare at the marks littering her chest and boobs.

The two of you quietly step down the hallway and down the stairs and you’re almost to the front door when you hear footsteps.

“Stan, I think she’s finally awake,” you hear your mom say, voice getting louder as she rounds the corner and she gasps loudly. “Oh my goodness, Agatha! Stan, come look who it is!”

“She came and stopped by,” you attempt to lie, but your mom shoots you a knowing look and pulls Agatha into a hug.

“Oh, hey, kiddo! Haven’t seen you in awhile,” your dad says, embracing Agatha once your mom has had her fill. “Do you want to join us?”

Agatha glances at you and you give her a tight-lipped, pleading smile and she softens. “I would love to, but I should really be getting home. I have some family coming and I need to be there when they arrive.”

Your parents titter about how it’s a shame and go back into the kitchen. You open the door and step outside with her.

“I guess this is it,” you say, trying to hide how much it hurts. The first time, she didn’t even come and say goodbye to you, but somehow this feels worse.

She throws her arms around you tightly and you burrow into her, breathing in her cinnamon scent. “I’ll see you soon though. Let me know when you land tomorrow.”

You almost tell her that you still love her, but instead you just agree. She pulls back and presses a light kiss to your lips and then she walks away to get into her car.

She waves at you as she pulls out of the driveway and you stand out there on the porch freezing until you can’t see her anymore.

But you have her back now, even if it’s just a little part.

And that’s more than enough for you right now.

#agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #agatha all along

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talaok · 9 months ago

Note

Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face once... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself"

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

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xiaomainlmao · 2 months ago

Text

The Boy is Mine- Kinich x gn! reader

KINICH FEELS LIKE HE SHOULD BE 5'6 WDYM HE'S 5'3

(AND I'M 2CM TALLER THAN HIM???)

Brainrot time :3

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Summary: Kinich is that guy at school popular for being mysterious and for being on the basketball team. Of course, the girls hate you because of your relationship with him, so he helps you sabotage their dreams with pictures of the two of you together. (wc: 2k)

Warnings: cussing, slightly suggestive (16+),

Kinich is a basketball player and reader is implied to be into an unspecified sport (I was initially going to make it basketball or volleyball, but decided to make it as less specific as possible)

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There’s a lot of things you don’t understand.

How does Kinich almost never miss his baskets despite being one of the shorter members of the team? How does he always maintain a decent grade despite looking like he never pays attention?

How is he yours?

And it seems the girls from your grade who text you don’t understand that either.

“Break up.”

“He’d be better with me :/”

“Yk, most guys prefer it if their partner is supporting them during their games.”

“Not being absent from the scene bc they have their ‘own’ match to play.”

You sigh as you put your phone back down. Kinich’s nonchalance must be rubbing off on you too, because you couldn’t care less about what the girls in your messages wanted.

“Who was it this time?” Kinich says, placing a juice carton beside you before joining you on the floor of your bedroom.

“The same ones. They’re the only ones with guts to actually text like that.”

“They sound so desperate, it’s almost pathetic.”

“Right?!” You slump, bringing your knees closer to your chest and sighing.

“You do know that I only love you, right?” There’s a hint of concern in Kinich’s voice, worried that you’re actually taking their words to heart. You merely hum in response, not lifting your head up.

Kinich leans back against the bed, sighing as he checks his own notifications. There’s one from his basketball group chat regarding practice and a few messages from Mualani just being Mualani. He sighs again. Of course you’re the only one receiving the jealous girls’ messages- they wouldn’t dare to actually text him.

“Sometimes,” you begin, causing Kinich to look your way, humming in response, “I wish there was a way to show us off, to rub it in their faces that I’m the lucky one.”

He wants to retort that he’s the lucky one, but decides against it. He’s not so good with words to say it without ruining the mood and without making it sound cringe. He lets his eyes trail your fingers, the way you’re drawing circles into the ground with your head still buried in your legs.

“What if… we did just that?”

“Kini? What do you mean? And how do you suggest we go about it?”

His heart skips a beat at the nickname. Mualani tried to tease him with it once, but he only liked it when you called him that. “Mm-hm! You’re definitely in love.” He remembers Mualani teasing him, her smile reaching her eyes as Kachina laughed awkwardly. Would they have done a better job at comforting you? Would they have better ideas regarding your current situation? Would you be uncomfortable upon hearing what he has in mind?

“What if we got more pictures for the two of us? But instead of the casual ones you get for memories, these are more…” ‘Sexy’ is what he wanted to say, but the words get stuck in his throat when you lift your head up, meeting his gaze for the first time since he sat down beside you. He’d rather not have you post anything suggestive, he doesn’t like the idea of others getting to see those sides of you.

You consider his words, trying to finish his sentence for him when it strikes you. “Do you mean like those pinterest couples?”

He nods in response. Yes, that’s exactly what he meant. Of course you would grasp the meaning behind his words, only you could read him; only you understand him well enough to do that. Not the girls in your notifications asking you to break up. No, they don’t stand a chance.

Kinich’s mind is a roller coaster. There’s a lot he wants to say, but he just couldn’t seem to express himself. So he thinks, and keeps it to himself, hoping you’d somehow just understand him like you always have.

“Sure, we can try that.” You grab your phone again, scrolling through your feed in search of inspiration when one catches your eye. “Let’s try this one.” Kinich just nods again, pushing himself off the ground. He reaches his hand towards you, helping you get up. “Anything you want, love.”

Your heart flutters at the endearment and a small smile creeps onto your face. Kinich is never too open with his love, but he never lets you doubt it either. When it’s from him, you love ‘love’. It’s always the little things he does- helping you up, cheering you on in your games, practicing with you, checking in at the end of the day, and being more open with his emotions around you. The other girls would never get to see this side of him. The thought itself makes you feel better.

You decide to make a few “arrangements” before getting the photos- tidying your room, dimming the lights and making slight adjustments to your outfit. This started as an activity to get good pictures, but you realised you were taking longer than usual to get this stuff done. You felt your nerves getting to you.

Wait, nerves?

You’re nervous?

It’s not that you’ve never been close to Kinich before- you’ve hugged before, he has carried you home once when you sprained your leg during practice, you helped him patch up after he scraped his knee. You’ve kissed his cheek when you part ways. He has kissed your forehead after his games. You’ve even kissed before.

Then why was the thought of getting those aesthetic-pinterest-couple goals core pictures so… nerve-racking.

You heard Kinich take a deep breath beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You eyed him, curious as to his own thoughts, when he pulls you closer. “We should… just get this done with.” His ears were slightly red and he avoided your gaze when he said this. Another deep breath and his hands reach your waist, giving it a light squeeze. He kissed between your eyebrows before asking, “Ready?”

You merely nod in reply, the words stuck in your throat. You take a deep breath to strengthen your resolve, getting your mind into the situation to rid the nerves.

Breath in.

Breath out.

“Ready.” You smile at him, suddenly a lot more confident than you were before.

He holds your waist with one hand while his other hand holds the phone to his face, covering it. Your back is to the mirror as you nestle your head in his neck. You’re wearing a jersey- “07 KINICH” printed in big, bold letters, unmistakably his jersey. You hoist a leg up, wrapping it around his waist as his grip on your waist tightens. You smirk into his neck as you hear the camera shutter going off.

Kissing his neck, you let yourself down and grab your phone from his hands, almost immediately uploading the picture on your instagram captioned “To the people that want us to break up, kindly, fuck off <3”

“Let’s get another.” You let out a low laugh, holding his chin in your hand and kissing his cheek before letting go to find a suitable spot.

You decide to settle down on the bed in front of the mirror, legs spread wide enough to give Kinich space to settle between them on the ground. He lays his head on your thighs, his back to the mirror this time, boasting your jersey. “You’re rather cruel,” he mumbles into your skin, before pressing a chaste kiss there. You chuckle again, letting a hand rest on your side while the other covers your face with the phone.

Just as you finish getting the picture, you receive a notification.

‘Replied to your story: “Are you forcing him to do this? What’s in it for him?”’

You let out a satisfied hum, patting the head of the man still on the floor, as he leans into your touch. Kinich tilts his head up, raising his eyebrows as you seemed too amused with whatever notification just came in. “What?”

You hum again, lowering your phone to show him the message. He scoffs. “One more. But before that, upload this one saying that you’d be willing to out the people who have been sending you these messages.”

“And you said I was the cruel one.” you laugh.

But you did just as he said, captioning your second story upload as “One more message, and you guys are going to be tagged in my next post <3”

“...And that’s uploaded. Which position do you suggest this time?”

Kinich thinks for a moment, his hazel eyes scanning your darkened room for a good spot.

“The mirror pictures are nice, so definitely another one of those.”

“You just hate showing your face.”

“That’s true, but that’s besides the point.”

You roll your eyes. Of course he hates taking photos of himself, and of course, that was the main reason why he preferred the photos where his face was hidden.

You scroll through your pinterest again as Kinich circles behind you, hugging you and resting his chin in the crook of your neck. You can feel his gaze piercing through your feed, thinking about each photo that pops up. He then points at one, his hand brushing against yours as he taps on the image that caught his eye. “How about this one?”

The couple in the photo are close, really close. They’re clearly kissing behind the phone that’s obstructing their faces. Would he kiss you too? Or would he just lean in? And if he kisses you, is it really just going to be for the sake of the photo?

You feel your face heat up just thinking about it. His slow breathing fanning over your ears was not helping either. You nod weakly, moving to find a spot to reenact the image.

You lean against the wall beside the mirror. Kinich abruptly hoists your right leg up, causing you to stumble before leaning further into the wall. You raise the phone in your hand until it covered your face in the mirror. Kinich let out a low hum. He let his eyes drift to your lips before meeting your gaze. Your gaze flutters to his lips, blurring the world around you. You zone out and tune in, watching the tiny ray of light reflect off the mirror and into his eyes. His eyes shine, a fusion of topaz and jade mesmerising you. You gulp at the sight, feeling his hot breath fanning over your own face.

With a small nod, he leaned in, capturing you in for a kiss as you pressed the camera button.

You let your hands sling onto his shoulders, tugging him closer. Kinich traced your back, feeling your curves underneath his fingertips. He traced downwards until he reached your ass, giving it a light squeeze before breaking the kiss. He stares at you for a bit, taking in your flustered form, before breaking the silence with a whisper, “Your notifications are going off again.”

That startles you, reminding you of why you both were in your current position. You push him off as he chuckles, quickly swiping through your phone to find your target. “Hmm… what if I just…”

Click! You screenshot the latest messages you received, editing them onto your last photo. “That should do it.”

“What are you going to caption this one?” Kinich asks, sitting down on the bed and folding his legs. He grabs your pillow and places it on his lap, placing his elbow on it and leaning into his palm, he waits for you to take your place beside him.

“You’ll have to check that yourself.” You chuckle, quickly uploading the image and putting your phone away.

Curious, Kinich grabs his phone and checks your profile to find your latest post. The picture of you both kissing behind the phone makes him blush a bit. Then he notices the screenshot you attached on the side, sighing at the horrendous messages. “Some people are too jealous for their own good.” And then he checks the caption, the tips of his ears turning a bright red as his hands rush to cover his blushing face as you chuckle.

“Perks of having hobbies other than being bitchy <3 Jealous that you guys can’t exchange jerseys like we can? Poor baby :< I did warn you though, so don’t complain about having been exposed alright? After all, the boy is mine.”

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#kinich x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich #kinich x you #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #gn reader #kinich imagines #genshin fanfic #kinich x y/n

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smileysuh · 11 months ago

Text

Love, Cupid

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, love drunk Mingyu, fingering, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, hand-holding during sex, Mingyu is somewhat subby/switchy, mainly missionary to accommodate for his wings, sensitive wings, hand job, mention of birth control, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, etc… I pet names: (his) big guy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.4k

🍭 aus. mythical/roman/cupid au, soulmate au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this man has me in a chokehold

Prologue - the accident

“I’m still not really sure why we needed a new cupid,” Mingyu confesses, toying with the elegantly curved, white bow in his hands. “But I guess if anyone is going to teach you how to do this, it should be me.”

It’s no secret that out of the twelve high council cupids, Mingyu is the one who is most obsessed with love. He lives, breathes and dreams of it. Every second of the immortal man’s life is dedicated to love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Out of all of Venus’s children, Mingyu is the favorite, and he has no worries that training this new cupid will lead to competition in that regard. Chan seems nice enough, but Mingyu can already tell that the kid has a lot to learn when it comes to the duty of being a matchmaker.

“Our arrows are the most powerful weapon on earth,” Mingyu explains, hovering with his new younger brother over the busy city street. They each have large angelic wings that keep them aloft, and extra cupid magic makes it so they’re invisible to the human eye. Mingyu’s favorite place to people-watch is from the sky, it gives him a bird’s eye view, and an easy way to trail his targets without anything getting in the way.

“I thought Jupiter’s lightning bolt was the most powerful weapon on earth,” Chan muses.

“It’s not.”

“Neptune’s trident then.”

Mingyu lets out a deep sigh. “Are you here to learn or not?”

“I just want you to explain it to me. How is your bow and arrow the most powerful weapon?” Chan acts as if he’s just looking for information, but Mingyu gets the sneaking suspicion that the young cupid is toying with him. He seems to be cut from the same cloth as the likes of Jeonghan and Soonyoung, who identify as more mischievous and tricksy than most deities supposedly enamored with love.

“Love is the most powerful thing on Earth,” Mingyu states, “and our tools are the makers of love, for humans anyways. Do you know how many wars were started in the name of love? How many people have died for love? Love is the most important and powerful emotion. Without it, humanity has nothing.”

“I’m still not sure I agree with you on this,” Chan sighs.

“You don’t have to agree with me, because I’m right, and I know I’m right. Now shut up and watch,” Mingyu shushes the younger cupid, pointing at the street below. “Do you see that human?”

Chan flies closer to Mingyu, angling his head toward the elder cupid’s large bicep, looking down his arm to the point of his finger. “The pretty girl?”

“Yes, exactly! Her!”

“Are we going to shoot her?”

“Yes, but we can’t just shoot her randomly- when we shoot her, she’ll fall in love with the first person she sees- the first person she looks at, and we can’t have her falling in love with just anyone on the street. That would be very irresponsible of us. Once shot, a soul connection forms- our arrows can never miss, and they can never be shot nonchalantly.”

“Or what?”

“Or it would be very, very bad, and as I said, irresponsible, and just… not good. Our job is to find a good match for as many humans as possible, and we can do this by looking at their auras. You see how her aura is pink?” God, Mingyu loves looking at your aura. You’ve got one of the prettiest auras he’s ever seen, and Mingyu’s been around for an extremely long time. “Each aura means something different. Pink souls are romantics, they’re soft. Pinks do best with other pinks, other pinks make them the most fulfilled. They can also manage a red, as they’ll draw on each other’s mutual passions. White auras are also suitable for pinks.”

“Yeah, I know about arua colour.,” Chan rolls his eyes. “Blues work best with blues, they can also do well with greens or purples. Greens do best with yellows, greens or blues. Purple does blue or red. I’m not in primary school.”

Mingyu has no clue how old the new cupid is. It’s a very human joke to make- mentioning primary school. Cupids are born, sure, but they age differently than humans, faster. Mingyu supposes that as the newest cupid, maybe Chan is a representation of the times- but if he starts bringing out Gen Z humor and saying things like “this is lit” while shooting his marks, Mingyu might just have a heart attack.

“These days, pink can be a rare aura to find in men,” Mingyu admits. “I’ve considered a few red auras for her- but she’s so soft, I wouldn’t want her to be overwhelmed. Reds are prone to anger, and a pink can soften them out, but a red aura will always be red, and I don’t think I want that for her.”

“Are you always this wrapped up in the matches you make?” Chan asks. “This shit seems easy- I see an orange aura, I match them with an orange, yellow, or red. I see a pink, I match her with a pink, white or red. It’s not that serious.”

“How could it be anything but serious!?” Mingyu groans. “I told you, our arrow is the most dangerous weapon in the world- you can’t just go around shooting people randomly!”

“But you haven’t actually explained what would happen if I did,” the new cupid points out.

“I told you, it’s irresponsible.”

“Yeah, but what does that mean?”

“It means bad things would happen!”

“Bad things like what, though?”

Mingyu loves love. He’s a soft cupid. But for the love of Venus, he’s beginning to want to strangle Chan.

Instead of answering, Mingyu’s gaze finds you again. Chan doesn’t have to take this seriously, Mingyu’s on a mission to find you a soulmate, and he’ll stop at nothing-

“Ouch!” Mingyu flinches, tearing his eyes from you and grabbing at his arm, where an arrow is protruding from his bicep. The cupid’s jaw drops, and he looks to the younger mischief maker.

“Oops?” Chan shrugs.

“Why did you do that!?” Mingyu screams, tearing the arrow out and covering the wound before it begins to drip his golden immortal blood.

“I wanted to see what would happen if I randomly shot a couple without doing research. She’s pink. You’re the pinkest soul I’ve ever even seen- it’s a good match, no?” Chan grins. “Like… what’s the worst that could happen?”

Mingyu can’t even speak. He can’t find the words.

Never, in the history of the world - as far as Mingyu knows it - has one cupid shot another, let alone with the intention of binding their soul to a mortal’s.

But to be completely fair, Mingyu can’t even find it within himself to be mad at Chan. For one, he should have never given the new cupid his own bow and arrow, and maybe more importantly- Chan might have been right in binding the two of you. Because holy shit, you’ve got the prettiest soul Mingyu’s ever seen, and he’s been hesitant to match you up with someone, worried they’d be unworthy-

What’s a better fit for your pretty pink aura than his own vibrant magenta self?

One - the cupid council

“And then…” Mingyu looks around at the council of Cupids, taking a deep breath as he gets to the climax of the report, “Chan shot me.”

“He shot you?” Seungcheol grins, adjusting in his golden throne as he looks at the two immortals in the center of the room.

“With an arrow,” Mingyu clarifies. “Yeah.”

The eldest cupid stifles laughter, lifting a hand to half cover his mouth as he giggles and looks around at the others. Jeonghan meets the eldest’s gaze, also grinning. There are mixed reactions from others, and it’s Soonyoung of all people who stands up as if this whole thing is blasphemy, declaring, “Take the kid’s arrows away!”

“Why did this kid even get made,” Jihoon groans, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

“Hey!” Chan declares, offended at the notion of him being a useless creation from their godly mother.

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol waves a hand, “take his arrows away.”

“Wait, no, I earned these!” Chan holds his bow and quiver close to his chest, hiding behind Mingyu when one of the other cupids gets closer to relieve him of his weapons.

“You shot an elder cupid,” Seungcheol says dismissively. “How does that count as earning your bow and arrow, or for that matter, your wings.” The eldest eyes the small white protrusions that flutter behind Chan, who shudders at the idea of them being taken away along with his cupid tools.

“Okay, everyone relax,” Jeonghan sighs, standing from his throne to address the room. “This isn’t Chan’s fault. I’d heard Mingyu was having trouble with a mark, being indecisive- and I wasn’t the only one who heard about it. This instruction came from Mother herself. Chan was just following orders. He has earned his bow and arrow, as well as his wings.”

“This order came from Mother?” Seungcheol sits up in his chair, jaw-dropping.

Venus is generally very hands-off with her sons. The idea that she’d heard about Mingyu’s predicament, and stepped in with an idea like this- well, it’s completely abnormal, and it’s clear that everyone on the cupid council is shocked by the revelation.

“She said something along the lines of… ‘Mingyu loves love, and it’s time he experiences it for himself.’” Jeonghan waves a hand nonchalantly, as if this is an everyday occurrence.

“What were you doing with Mother?” Wonwoo asks, and it’s clear in his tone that he’s not entirely trusting of the elder, more mischievous cupid.

“She has favorites, you know,” Jeonghan grins. “To Mingyu, she gifted love, to me, she gifted the role of messenger.”

“That’s some gift,” Seungcheol scoffs, but Mingyu gets the sense that Seungcheol wishes he’d been the one chosen to be privy to this information. “So Mother wants Mingyu to do what? Seduce a human?”

“Like it will be hard?” Jeonghan lets out a barking laugh. “This is our Mingyu we’re talking about. If anyone can seduce a human, it’s him.”

Two - the first meet

“Ok, but what if you shoot her too?” Mingyu suggests as he and Chan follow you from a distance, flying through the clear evening sky while you head home from work.

“Why don’t you shoot her?” Chan retorts.

“Jeeze,” Mingyu rolls his eyes at the newness of his sidekick. “You shot me, so I’m bonded to her now, which means only you can make her second connection. It’s a rule to make sure cupids don’t get in each other’s way. You shot me to fall for her, and if I shot her to fall for anyone else, that would lead to unrequited love, which isn’t fun for anyone.”

“A rule? What would happen if you tried to shoot her though? I mean, unless you and all the other cupids constantly communicate about your marks, there’s no way to know which human belongs to which cupid, is there?”

“What’s with you and breaking rules?” Mingyu sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, I’m not testing fate again… also, most cities are split into small zones. Cupids stick to their zones.”

“Humans don’t though,” Chan points out.

“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

“So will you shoot her for me?”

“Mmmm,” Chan makes a face. “I don’t think so.”

“What?!” Mingyu stops flying, staring at the cupid that he’s supposed to be training. “But… but I’m your teacher, and I’m telling you to shoot her for me!”

“That would be too easy though, right?” Chan flashes a grin. “Plus- that would be an abuse of power, Mingyu. You’re in love with her now, so telling me to force her to fall for you isn’t very fair, now is it?”

“I-” Mingyu bites at his tongue. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well… we know I’m best for her. It wouldn’t be an abuse because we know I’ll treat her right.”

“The thing is…” Chan lets out a yawn, “I’m still not convinced.”

“So you expect me to just go and talk to her?”

“Yeah?” The younger cupid shrugs. “You’re supposed to be some sex god, aren’t you?”

“No one’s ever called me that…” Mingyu can feel his skin heating at the notion. “I’m a love cupid, not a sex god.”

“Same thing,” Chan scoffs. “Just go talk to her. Come on, follow me.” He takes a nose dive, approaching the ground at a speed that makes Mingyu worry for his safety- only for Chan to land like a pro, waving at him to hurry up.

With a groan, Mingyu follows the younger cupid, his feet touching down onto the pavement of the crowded street.

“You can’t go talk to her looking like this,” Chan explains, looking Mingyu up and down.

As immortal beings, they’re impervious to the temperatures of the evening. Dressed in a cream-coloured toga, Mingyu stands out amongst the jackets and hats worn to protect human skin from the cold. “Give me a sec,” Mingyu sighs, using some cupid magic to transform his outward appearance, conjuring an outfit he thinks might draw you in. “How’s this?”

“A suit? Seriously?” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Suits are in!” Mingyu insists.

“Yeah, if you want to look like a sugar daddy.”

“Maybe she wants a sugar daddy?” Mingyu suggests.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some human expert? She’s a pink soul, Mingyu, how many pink souls really value money over personality?”

“So you know more about humans than I do now?” Mingyu can’t believe what he’s hearing out of his ward’s mouth.

“I think love is blinding you, dude,” Chan says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s expensive silk tie. “You’re pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m rich,” Mingyu insists.

“Sure, but you’re not a sugar daddy, you’re a cupid.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So what would you want me to wear?”

“Blue jeans, maybe a hoodie, something that screams ‘make me your boyfriend.’”

Mingyu has to concede that Chan might be onto something, but he refuses to admit it out loud. In fact, Mingyu buries deeper into his conviction that you’ll like the suit. “This outfit is staying,” he states.

“Fine,” Chan shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

With one final grin and giggle at his own double entendre, Chan pushes Mingyu roughly, causing him to fall back and bump directly into you. The rough contact jolts Mingyu into a corporeal form, putting him fully into your visibility as you steady yourself and blink up at him.

“Oh, uh… excuse me?” You’re a little stunned- but Mingyu supposes that's what happens when a man appears out of thin air.

“No, that was my fault,” Mingyu assures you quickly. “I uh… two left feet.”

“Right…” You look down, then back up at Mingyu, giving him a soft smile before stepping past him to continue on with your night.

Mingyu watches you in shock, then he pulls himself out of it, rushing to follow you. “I uh- I should make it up to you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave a hand.

“But I do worry about it,” Mingyu insists, putting himself in front of you this time. “Here,” he conjures a flower from behind his back, holding it out to you, “Something to say sorry.”

You stop, staring up at him and then down at the rose. “You just happen to have that?” you ask quizically. “Were you trying to bump into me or something?”

“No, I just had the flower.” Mingyu would be sweating if he was a being who could sweat.

“Sure you did,” you laugh. “Look, I’m sure whatever girl you actually had that flower for would like it more than me.”

“I swear, it’s for you- look, forget the flower,” Mingyu tosses it onto the ground. “There must be some way I can make this up to you.”

“Dude, you bumped into me on the street, we’re good.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply says, “Please?”

You let out a sigh. “If I give you my number, will you let this go?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a pen?”

Mingyu conjures one in his pocket, pulling it out to give it to you. When you take the pen, you grab his wrist, pulling his palm close so you can scrawl across it.

The cupid watches your every action, etching it into his memory. You’re so lovely, your pretty pink aura wrapped around you like a warm halo. When he takes in a deep breath, he can smell the touch of roses in the air, a lover-girl scent-

“There,” you sigh, releasing his hand. “Now I really have somewhere to be.”

“Okay,” Mingyu murmurs, holding his palm close. “Have a good night.”

“You too, big guy,” you say, laughing to yourself as you brush past him.

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize he never got your name and vice versa. He’s tempted to rush after you, only for a hand to clap down on his shoulder.

“Dude,” Chan grins, “that was embarrassing to watch. You have like, zero rizz.”

Three - the date

Mingyu is doing his best. He’d texted you a safe amount to plan your date. He’d picked you up in an expensive car, held doors open for you, and now, you’re eating at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

Even so, Mingyu can tell that something is off with you. As you pick at the appetizer, Mingyu finally gets the courage to ask what’s wrong.

“You want the honest truth?” you laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“Always.” Mingyu puts down his fork and knife, focusing on you completely.

“I’m thankful for the date,” you start. “Taking me somewhere nice is really sweet of you and everything, it’s just… I don’t know. I think lots of men these days think all girls want is money. As nice as this is- as nice as your car is, and this restaurant, I don’t think I’m the kind of girl that fits with this vibe.”

“You’re not?”

You shake your head. “You’re clearly a guy that’s well off, and I’m happy for you about that, but… I feel like when guys take me to nice places, they always expect something in return. There’s this expectation that when money gets put down, the girl has to put out too, just… in other ways.”

“Other ways? Like what?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “You know what other ways.”

Except Mingyu doesn’t know, because he’s never actually been on a date, especially not with a human. He has no idea what sort of expectations are normal, especially in your mundane world. As a cupid, he sets up the matches, but he doesn’t really follow along with the journey and see what his marks get up to after being shot with his arrow.

“Can I be honest too?” Mingyu asks after a moment of contemplation.

“Of course.”

“I uh…” He picks his words carefully. “I don’t really date often. So… whatever expectations you think I might have, just know that I don’t have any. I just want to get to know you. That’s it. I promise.”

You stare at him, and Mingyu gets lost in your eyes. He’s more than happy to wait patiently while you think of a response, it gives him time to appreciate your beautiful form-

“You’re serious?” you ask finally.

“Uh huh,” Mingyu nods. “You seem surprised.”

“I just... You’re all handsome and dressed well, and you have a nice car, and you’ve obviously got money- I just sort of assumed you were a sugar daddy or something. Someone used to taking girls out.”

Mingyu hates the use of the term ‘sugar daddy.’ It’s clear to him that Chan was right about the vibes of his clothing choices, and the cupid will admit that the car he conjured was maybe a tad too fancy. He’s been going about this all wrong, putting up a facade, creating a version of himself that he thought you would like.

Maybe Mingyu truly doesn’t know anything about you. He just hopes this misstep isn't enough to drive you away.

“I’ve been single a long time,” Mingyu admits. “I guess, maybe I got wrapped up in doing the things I thought you would like. I figured most girls like to be wined and dined, but I never really asked you what you wanted to do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Can we start over?” Mingyu suggests.

You smile softly, nodding.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment before he comes up with a question that he thinks could redirect this whole situation for the better. “If I could go back, and let you choose what type of date this would be, what would we have ended up doing?”

“I find that first dates where we can walk around and see stuff together are kind of nice,” you admit. “Formal things like this, face to face, over food- they kind of make me anxious. And lulls in the conversation are more obvious.”

You’re very right about that. Every long moment of silence has made Mingyu’s heart race, and he’s rushed to fill it with surface-level questions that never seemed to hit their mark. It’s interesting that he’s learning about dating from you.

Mingyu has never realized how little he actually knows about the rituals of love.

“How do you feel about me covering the bill for our drinks and appetizer, then we can get out of here?” Mingyu suggests.

“You don’t want dinner?”

“If you want food, I’ll get you food,” he tells you, “but it sounds like you’d rather be on a walk, so let's go for a walk.”

You offer him another soft smile, and Mingyu can see the way your pink aura flutters with interest. It’s the first time you’ve really glowed for him tonight, so he knows he’s headed in the right direction with this line of thought.

“A walk would be perfect.”

Half an hour later, the two of you are walking side by side through one of the small city parks.

You were right about the awkward pauses disappearing. Conversation is flowing steadily, and Mingyu couldn’t be happier. You tell him about your job, your friends, the things you do that make you happy, hobbies that have stuck with you since you were younger.

Mingyu is practically overflowing with questions now, and every response you give him is committed to memory.

“It’s such a nice night,” you say wistfully, pausing to look up at the sky, which is visible through a clearing in the tree canopy.

“It is,” Mingyu agrees, taking a deep breath and simply enjoying the moment.

That’s when a familiar cupid flies across his view, and Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest.

“Should we sit down somewhere?” Mingyu asks, looking at a bench a short distance away. It’s next to a large Oak, and Mingyu hopes that the leaf foliage can give him some privacy with you, away from any curious eyes.

You nod, gently grabbing onto his arm as you begin to walk.

Mingyu’s breath catches at the contact, a jolt of energy running through his entire form. He can feel his heart lurching again, but this is a much more pleasant feeling than before. His throat is dry, and he swallows thickly to clear it, skin heating into something like a blush.

He’s happy you’re not seated across from each other in some stuffy restaurant. With the low light of street lamps that line the walkway, there’s no way you’ll be able to see the flush of his skin. As much as Mingyu is a love cupid, he doesn’t want it to be too obvious that he’s enraptured with you.

He’s terrified that anything he does could scare you off, and he’d hate himself if that ever happened.

“Anyways,” you sigh as the two of you sit down, “enough about me, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Mingyu shuffles, turning to look at you only to find that you’ve angled your body toward him, your gaze fixed on his profile.

“What do you do for work?”

“Uh…” Mingyu doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the full truth either. “I’m a matchmaker, actually.”

“A matchmaker?” you repeat, surprise evident in the tone of your voice.

“Yeah. I set people up.”

“I didn’t know that was an actual job.”

“There’s lots of Korean Ajummas who want to set up their daughters or relatives with good men,” Mingyu explains, opting for a white lie.

“I see,” you nod. “A matchmaker who doesn’t date.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu clears his throat again. “Would you believe me if I said I’m pretty good at my job?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “What makes you good at your job? If not experience in the dating arena.”

“I think I’ve just always been someone who reads people. Matching is in my blood- although, after my mess up on reading you, I’m starting to wonder how successful I’ve actually been.”

“You didn’t mess up that badly,” you assure him. “And when given the opportunity to correct your misread, you did. I’m having a really good time with you now that we’re on a walk.”

“You are?” Mingyu feels like jumping up and celebrating, but he holds himself down to earth. “I’m uh, I’m having a really good time with you too.”

Instead of responding, you simply lean your head onto his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

The cupid holds very still, not wanting to move a muscle in the fear that you’ll pull away.

“Do you have any family?” you ask.

“A few brothers,” Mingyu responds.

“Are you close?”

Mingyu laughs. “With some.”

“Family can be an interesting experience,” you muse.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mingyu admits, looking out at the dark field in front of you, where Chan does another fly-by.

“I hate to say this, but I have an early morning work thing,” you sigh. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Wanna go back to my car at the restaurant? I can drive you.”

“My place actually isn’t that far from here, I was thinking I might just walk… but then again,” you let out a laugh, “these heels are kind of killing my feet.”

“What if I carry you home?”

You pull away from his shoulder, giving him a doubtful look.

“You don’t think I can carry you?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“It’s not that-”

“Come on,” Mingyu gets to his feet. “Get on my back, it will be fun, I promise.”

You give him another unsure look, but finally you stand too. Mingyu turns around, bending so you can jump onto his back. The moment you’re pressed against him, he feels like he’s in heaven. He can feel your breath along the back of his neck, and it sets every inch of him on fire.

“Hold on,” he tells you, enjoying the way you wrap your grip tighter around his broad shoulders, locking your fingers together by his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you admit with a shaky laugh.

“You trusted me,” Mingyu says, “and I’m not going to let you down… until we get to your apartment.”

You giggle again, and the sound is music to his ears.

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, and yet, your aura is buzzing so bright it nearly envelopes Mingyu with how tightly you’re pressed together.

“Something tells me you don’t mind.”

Four - the fuck up

“You know what you said about zones the other day?” Chan asks while he and Mingyu sit on the ledge of a tall building, looking down at the humans below.

“Yeah?”

“You said that cupids stick to their zones, right?”

“Yup.” Mingyu’s so annoyed by Chan he could scream. They’re supposed to be looking at auras, looking for a target for the day, but Chan’s head is off in the clouds-

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

Mingyu lets out a deep breath, turning to look at Chan. “What was the point of those questions?”

“Just that… well, that’s Seokmin, isn’t it?” Chan points, and Mingyu follows his line of sight. Low and behold, Seokmin is flying two city blocks away, and it looks like he’s trailing something.

“We’re on the zone border,” Mingyu explains, but as he gets a bearing for the auras below, one stands out to him. “Shit.”

“I didn’t know you could cuss, grandpa,” Chan laughs, but Mingyu’s already pushing off from the ledge, his large wings unfurrowing so they can beat at the air, carrying him quickly toward the other cupid, leaving Chan in his dust. “Wait! Slow down!”

But Mingyu can’t slow down, because if he’s correct, it looks like Seokmin is trailing a very familiar pink aura that weaves amongst the muted people below.

Mingyu’s wings are large. They’re the largest of any of the cupids, and yet, as Seokmin draws his arrow, it’s clear that Mingyu’s superior size and speed won’t help him make it to his brother in time.

“Seokmin!” he yells, catching the man’s attention just as he lets his arrow fly.

Mingyu comes to a halt in the air, breath caught as he watches the arrow. It feels like everything is in slow motion, the arrow speeding through the sky toward you-

But then, it’s as if the arrow hits your aura and the pink hue acts as some sort of protective shield. The arrow falls to the ground, bursting into flower petals that melt away into the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” Chan has caught up to Mingyu, and his words ring true to the situation. “Did Seokmin’s arrow just miss?”

“My arrows never miss!” Seokmin insists, fluttering over.

“But that one did,” Chan points out.

Seokmin’s eyes are wide with shock. “It didn’t! It was going to hit her!”

Chan rolls his eyes. “But it didn’t hit her!”

Mingyu can’t even speak. His gaze is fixed on you. The arrow missed, but you’ve come to a stop in your tracks, as if you could sense the close call you’d just somehow evaded.

“What are you two doing here anyways?” Seokmin glares. “You distracted me.”

“That’s Mingyu’s girl,” Chan responds nonchalantly.

“Who is?”

“The chick you just tried to shoot!”

Mingyu respects that Chan is getting so worked up about this, it’s kind of like the new cupid is trying to protect Mingyu and his love life endeavors.

“Wait, that’s the girl Mingyu likes?!” Seokmin bellows.

“That’s the girl he loves!” Chan insists.

“Can you both just- be quiet for a minute!?” Mingyu can’t deal with their arguing anymore, not when you’re so much more interesting.

He watches you pull out your phone-

“Do arrows even work on her?” Chan asks. “We all saw that right? It like… bounced off her aura?”

“They should work on everyone,” Seokmin responds quietly. “I mean, your arrow worked on Mingyu, for Venus’s sake.”

Mingyu’s phone rings in his pocket, the pocket he’d had conjured into his toga just to hold a line of communication with you. The other cupids turn to watch Mingyu as he lifts the human device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey you.” Your voice is a little off. “You busy?”

“No,” Mingyu blurts out dumbly.

“Okay, good. Uh… I wasn’t sure if I should call or text-”

“Calling is good,” he assures you.

“That’s good to know.” You let out a small laugh, tucking in closer to the building and away from the busy street traffic. “It’s the weirdest thing, but you just popped into my mind. I guess, usually I let guys ask me out for a second date, and it’s only been two days since I saw you last, but I sort of just thought fuck it, I’d call you.”

Mingyu doesn’t even know how to respond. His mind is running a million miles a minute.

“Mingyu?” you ask. “Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

“So… do you want to see each other again?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good!”

Even from a distance, Mingyu can see the way you light up, the way your aura twinkles with pretty pinks and magentas. “When… when are you free?” he asks, dazzled dumb by your beauty.

“This sounds crazy, and I get it if you’re busy, but… are you around?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we meet in an hour?”

“Yeah, I’ll uh…” Mingyu has to physically give his head a shake to speak coherently, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Can’t wait,” you smile. “Bye, Gyu.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, but Mingyu still feels frozen. It takes a moment before he’s able to pocket his phone.

“Dude, you’re still so lame when you speak to her,” Chan muses, nudging his mentor with a grin.

“We just watched her somehow block a cupid’s arrow,” Mingyu snaps, “excuse me for needing a minute.”

“Mingyu?” This time it’s Seokmin speaking, and Mingyu hates the way he immediately flashes a glare at his brother. “Sorry, it’s just… what’s that on your wrist?”

Five - the red string

Mingyu can’t seem to take his eyes off the red string around his wrist. He picks at the fine threads as he waits in his car for you to come down from your apartment. In fact, he’s so focused on the mysterious new bracelet that he forgets to get out of the vehicle to open your door for you.

When you open your own door it causes him to jump, heart lurching in fright- then he remembers where he is, and he’s quick to pull the sleeve of his sweater down, hiding the red string. “Hi,” he says, forcing a smile.

“You okay? I didn’t scare you, did I?” you grin, getting into the car.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought. Where, uh… where do you wanna go today?”

“Well, I was going to let you choose, but I didn’t want to end up in a fancy restaurant again, so I was thinking something simple like coffee?”

“Coffee sounds nice,” Mingyu admits. “Any specific place you like?”

“There’s a cafe by the park we were at last time, I’ll give you directions.” You reach over, gently squeezing his thigh. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he smiles, and this time, it’s not forced at all.

You make it to the cafe. After you order, Mingyu pays, and soon, the two of you are sitting in a cute little secluded booth in the corner. As you tell him about your day, Mingyu watches you take your jacket off. He admires your choice of clothes, the way the colours compliment your skin tone and the pretty pink aura you can’t even see.

When you settle and reach for your tea, Mingyu notices something around your wrist, and he nearly chokes on his coffee.

“You good?” you laugh, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Yeah.” Mingyu steadies himself. “Uh- what’s that red thread bracelet? I didn’t notice that on our last date.”

“Oh, this?” you look down at your wrist, lifting it a little. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Trust me,” the cupid laughs, “nothing you say could ever make me think you’re crazy.”

You give him an assessing look, but finally give in with a sigh. “Okay, so basically, one of my close friends is a witch.”

“A witch?”

“Still think I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, but I haven’t met this friend yet,” Mingyu teases.

“Anyways,” you take a deep breath, “she prays to Venus, and she swears on her life that Venus helped her meet her fiance. We had a bachelorette party about a week ago and she got all us bridesmaids these ‘Red Strings of Fate.’ It’s supposed to help us meet our own soulmates, or so she says.”

“Huh,” Mingyu sits back, resting his hands on the table. “I’ve never heard about ‘Red Strings of Fate.’”

“Really? But… I mean,” your gaze dips down, “you’re wearing one too?”

Mingyu’s heart lurches, and he looks at his wrist, where the mysterious red string had appeared an hour ago. “Right…”

“Did you not know about that when you bought it? Or…?” You cock your head to the side, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, when I saw you playing with that in the car when you picked me up, I’d kind of thought you’d gotten it to match mine.”

“I seriously didn’t even notice you had yours when we were on our last date,” Mingyu admits.

“Hmm…” Mingyu can see a glimmer of something behind your eyes, and then you grin broadly. “I guess maybe it’s just fate, huh?”

“Maybe,” Mingyu laughs.

“Where did you even gets yours?”

“It just kind of appeared,” Mingyu says honestly, only realizing what he’s said as the words leave his mouth.

“It just kind of appeared,” you repeat, looking very skeptical. Even so, you don’t question it, you simply lean back, your aura shimmering. “Guess it really is fate.”

Mingyu can’t even come up with anything else to say, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Listen…” you drum your fingers gently against the table, “I’ve been meaning to find a date for Luna’s wedding, but it can be hard to just run into someone you want to take to something like that. Then we quite literally ran into each other on the street, and now this whole string thing… if it’s not to soon, or too last minute, if you’d want to come to the wedding next week with me, I’d really appreciate the plus one.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu can’t believe his luck, can’t believe the cute determined set of your lips when you nod in the affirmative. “I’d love to go to this witch wedding with you.”

“As long as you don’t call her a witch to her face,” you laugh. “I think she prefers the term wicca.”

Mingyu makes a cross over his heart. “I won’t do anything to mess it up, I promise.”

Six - the consensus

The council is silent after Seokmin and Mingyu’s testaments on the oddities related to you. The younger cupids look to the elders to come up with a consensus, and Seungcheol is the first to finally speak.

“An arrow that didn’t strike, a red string, and a girl who thinks she’s a witch.” He lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess, Mingyu.”

Mingyu stays quiet, looking at his feet as he stands in the center of the council room, Seokmin and Chan on either side of him.

For a new cupid who stands up to his mentor all the time, Chan is being oddly quiet today. He hasn’t said a word, not even when Seokmin and Mingyu were recounting the story of how your aura had seemingly repelled an arrow. Chan’s nervousness is making Mingyu even more anxious, although he’s not sure what he has to be anxious about.

“While I’m certain we all appreciate the report,” Jeonghan says, “this union between Mingyu and his human is ordained by Mother. There’s no use discussing this further.”

“She avoided an arrow. Aren’t you the least bit curious about how a mortal did that?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward in his chair. It’s not usual for Wonwoo to speak, and the fact that he’s found this story of interest makes Mingyu’s skin tingle with more worry.

Jeonghan makes a face, shaking his head. “No.”

“I’m more focused on this witch,” Jihoon admits, trailing his fingers along his jaw. “Magic isn’t anything new, but I wonder if this friend’s ‘connection to Venus’ is what made our mother step in.”

“I’ve never heard of a ‘red string of fate,’” Soonyoung adds. “This all seems very suspicious. Chan, what do you think?”

Chan fidgets next to Mingyu. “Uh… me?”

“No, the other cupid named Chan.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, you!”

“What do I think about what?” Chan asks dumbly.

Seungcheol sighs, Jeonghan snickers, and other cupids simply seem amused by the new cupid.

“What do you think about all of this?” Soonyoung clarifies. “New age Venus witches and strings of fate?”

“I think…” Chan swallows, looking over at Mingyu. When he speaks again, Chan’s voice has gained confidence, and he squares his shoulders. “I think that this whole thing started when Jeonghan gave me mother’s directions to pair Mingyu up with the girl he’d been trying to match for a while. But even if I hadn’t been directed to do it, when I look at Mingyu and the human, their auras just match. I’ve never seen an aura like hers. The only aura close to it in colour is Mingyu’s. I don’t know anything about red strings of fate or witches, but I do know that nothing bad could come out of a match like this one. Or at least, that’s what my heart is telling me.”

The council is silent while they process the new cupid’s words. Mingyu can feel a warmth spreading through his chest. For a dude who’s been nothing but an annoyance and hindrance so far, Chan is growing on Mingyu.

“Chan’s right,” Seokmin says. “Her aura is just like Mingyu’s. If anyone deserves a chance to fall in love, it’s them.”

“When did you all become so sentimental,” Jihoon groans, but there’s something of a smirk under his unamused expression.

“Seokmin,” Seungcheol’s voice draws all eyes, “since you dragged yourself into this, I want you to go with Chan and Mingyu to the wedding. I trust your opinion more than Chan’s. And Mingyu, see what information you can get from the witch. Even if this is all orchestrated by mother, I want to know the ins and outs of what power this wicca believes she has.”

Seven - the witch’s wedding

Mingyu hadn’t realized that being a plus one to someone in the wedding party meant that he’d be sitting alone in the venue while waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t know anyone here except for Chan and Seokmin, who are floating around eying up the singletons. Mingyu had made them promise not to shoot too many people today, but there’s already been two meet-cutes and successful matches.

The love cupid is somewhat jealous of his brothers’ ability to work, their ability to form attachments while he’s made to sit and wait. To clear his mind, he fidgets with the red string on his wrist, hidden under his suit.

The red string has become somewhat of a soothing mechanism for the cupid. It feels tangible, in an odd sort of way. He enjoys the feeling as he gently drags it across his skin, looping it over and over again-

Music begins to play through the speakers, guests turn in their seats. A young flower girl walks up the aisle, the petals she’s tossing match the soft pink dress she’s wearing, and the tie around Mingyu’s neck. You’d shown up with the fabric when he’d come to pick you up, bashfully asking him if he wanted to match with you and the bridal party.

It was a small exchange, but it had meant the world to Mingyu. He loves the fact that he’s matching with you and your friends, loves the fact that the bride had chosen soft pink as one of the color themes.

After the flower girl, the bridesmaids begin to file in, arm in arm with groomsmen. Mingyu studies the auras, noting that many of the people in the party have pink tones to match their outfits. He likes seeing so many pinks in one area, it’s no wonder you talk so highly of your friends, you’re all pieces torn from the same cloth. Like him.

You step into view, and Mingyu can feel his heart beginning to race. You look stunning today, even more so than usual. The joy you feel radiates off of you, illuminating your aura with shimmery glitter.

When you walk by, you meet Mingyu’s gaze, and he feels his grin widening. All the waiting has been worth it if even for that one smile, the brief eye contact-

Venus, he loves you.

Everyone stands when the bride enters. She’s dressed in a white laced gown, with flowers in her hair, and pretty rose quartz jewelry. There’s definitely something different about her, a richness and vibrancy to her aura that screams power.

To Mingyu’s surprise, the bride meets his eyes as she walks past, offering a small tilt to her head before she continues up the aisle.

Mingyu thinks about the small motion from the bride throughout the ceremony.

He hasn’t met a real witch since the dark ages. People with a true connection to the gods are few and far in between these days. Mingyu wonders what kind of power your friend holds, and what it means in regard to him and the other cupids floating around.

Even with all these wonderings, Mingyu focuses on the example of love set before him. He listens to the vows, and the grandma next to him offers him tissues to wipe away his tears. The first kiss as man and wife makes Mingyu want to cheer with joy, his heart practically exploding in his chest.

He loves love.

When the bride and groom exit, you stand by the podium, explaining that the reception will take place in a venue two doors down from the ceremony hall. Mingyu watches you hurry out after the bride before he slowly dispurses with the rest of the guests, the kind grandma who had given him tissues latched to his arm for support.

He’s unsure of himself when he reaches the reception. There’s an entryway station that details table arrangements. “What’s your name dear?” the grandma next to him asks, adjusting some glasses on the tip of her nose.

“I don’t think I’m on the list,” Mingyu admits, scanning the seating cards.

He tells the old woman your name and she gives him an amused look. “A plus one to the bridal party,” she nods. “Table one.”

“And where are you seated?” the cupid asks. “I’ll help you there.”

After doing his duty with the old woman, Mingyu finds himself at a table full of pink-souled love birds. They’re all gushing about the ceremony, and are more than happy to welcome the cupid into the discussion. Mingyu’s never felt so immediately at ease, and you find him this way, laughing with his new group of love-obsessed peers.

“Hi,” you whisper, slipping into the seat next to him.

“Hey,” he smiles, about to turn and look at you- only for your lips to press to his cheek. Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest, his body freezing for a moment before he’s able to look into your eyes. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy you came,” you admit.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Mingyu retorts, and he really does mean it.

Being with you is so easy. He’d fallen for your pink vibration, and now he’s falling for the auras that your friends exude too.

Before Mingyu even knows it, your table is being called up for food. He sticks to your side like glue as you fill your plates, and when you begin to head back to sit down, the bride waves you over. Mingyu sticks to you even as you approach your friend, who stands from the newly wed table with a grin.

“So this must be the famous Mingyu I’ve heard so much about.” The witch grins. “I’m Luna.”

She holds out a hand, and Mingyu doesn’t even hesitate to take it. There’s an immediate jolt of energy that runs through him when their skin touch, and he swallows the lump in his throat. Luna meets his gaze with a steady smile.

“Y/N, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of wine from the open bar?” Luna asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” You squeeze Mingyu’s arm before darting away.

The cupid opens his mouth to say something, only for Luna to cut him off. “I can see your wings.”

“What?” Mingyu nearly chokes on air.

“And your friends flying around,” Luna’s gaze lifts, trailing Chan as he soars over the dance floor. “Three cupids, and yet you’re the only one with a vibrant pink aura. It’s the pretties I’ve ever seen, aside from Y/N’s, of course.”

“You really can see us,” Mingyu breathes. “My brothers, my wings, my aura-”

“I bet you thought I wasn’t a real witch, didn’t you, big guy?” Luna laughs.

“I mean…” Mingyu can’t even meet her eyes now, especially since she’s just used your petname for him. “Yeah. I didn’t think you were real.”

“Most people don’t think you’re real,” the witch retorts. “Cupids? In twenty twenty four? It’s kind of shocking, not to mention outdated.”

“We’re not outdated,” Mingyu goes to defend himself, but the look Luna shoots him makes his voice catch in his throat.

“My first fiance was a bad match,” Luna says, capturing Mingyu’s full attention with the power of her tone. “Some white haired cupid shot me. I guess he figured I had a pink soul and this man had a red one so we’d even out. But we never did. It was bad. So bad that I started praying to Venus. When I got away from the guy, I was determined to find my next partner all by myself. A match based on actual connection. That’s how I met Jae.” Her gaze floats to her new husband, and an expression of love fills her features, her aura shimmering. “Listen. I know that you cupids try to do what you believe is right, but your matches don’t always work. That’s why I gave all my friends red strings of fate. To protect them from bad arrows… although, based off of the way you look at y/n, I’m pretty sure it’s not her who’s been shot.”

Mingyu can feel a lump in his throat. He can also feel a presence at his shoulder, and Chan leans forward to whisper, “Damn, dude, she read you for filth.”

Luna grins, looking at the new cupid behind Mingyu. “Stop shooting my guests.”

“You got it,” Chan agrees immediately.

“Look, we don’t have much time,” Luna sighs, “but what’s the deal with this whole thing. How did you even get shot? Are you guys drinking on the job, or what?”

“Actually, Venus herself instructed I shoot Mingyu and make him fall for your friend,” Chan defends himself. “Although, he was pretty much already in love with her anyways.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock. “Venus did this?”

“Indirectly,” Chan nods.

“I don’t trust you guys, but I trust her,” the witch states. “I prayed to her that my friends find their soulmates, and now here you are.”

Could this really all be the witch’s doing?

Mingyu can hardly even think, he can only stand there dumbly, staring at Luna like she’s grown three extra heads and a beaver tail.

“You have to tell y/n,” Luna says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s shoulder. “You can’t lie to her about all of this.”

“I can’t tell her-” Mingyu tries to argue, but once more, his tongue gets caught.

“You will. And we’ll hang out again soon,” Luna insists, sounding so certain that for a moment, Mingyu wonders if she has the gift of future sight.

“Hey, you two,” you appear at Mingyu’s side, holding out a glass for the bride. “What did I miss?”

“Just your new boo being adorable,” Luna grins. “He’s a keeper, this one.”

“What?” You let out a laugh, looking between Mingyu and your best friend. “But… you usually hate the guys I go out with!”

“Well, I like Mingyu,” Luna shrugs. “Something tells me he’ll be around for a long time.”

With a lift of her glass, the witch goes to sit down with her husband again, leaving you and Mingyu shocked. As you head back to your table, you cling tight to his side. “What did you even say to her?” you whisper.

“I hardly said anything,” Mingyu admits.

“Was it an aura thing? Luna always says she can read auras-”

Mingyu nearly chokes on air and it makes you grip his arm tighter.

“It was an aura thing, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Mingyu doesn’t want to get into auras with you. The witch had been pretty specific about him coming clean to you, but now is definitely not the right time.

He’s very lucky that when you take your seats, a few of your friends immediately strike up a conversation. Mingyu hides behind the discussion, staying in the peripheries while he contemplates what his life has become.

Eight - the time to come clean

If Mingyu had been obsessed with you before the wedding, things are now on an entire other level. After his run in with the witch, you’d invited Mingyu to come dance with you. Holding you close while a slow song played had made the cupid feel in a way he’s never felt. Then, when he’d taken you home, you’d kissed him at your door step.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips pressing across his own, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine you’re still there with him.

It’s been a distraction to say the least. Two days have gone by since that night, with you running through his mind like an olympic level track star.

You’d invited him to come for a date at your place, offered to cook dinner, and Mingyu’s been practically holding his breath in anticipation.

He fiddles with the string around his wrist as he approaches your home, knocking lightly on the door. His breathing is shallow, and he gnaws on his lower lip while he waits.

Mingyu can’t even help himself when you open your door, he pulls you into an immediate hug, breathing in your scent and letting out a deep breath.

“Hey, big guy,” you laugh, cuddling closer, tucking your head under his chin.

“Missed you,” Mingyu admits.

Your giggling continues. “Luna was right about you being a keeper, mister softie.”

You invite him into your home, giving Mingyu a tour. It’s hard for him to keep his focus on anything you’re saying though. You look adorably comfortable in your cute sweatpant outfit. He’s never seen you laid back like this before, and it feels like an honour that you’re trusting enough of him now to let him witness this side of you.

Soon, he finds himself in your kitchen, doing everything he can to help you prep the meal.

If you’re the head chef, he’ll be your line cook, and be damned happy to do it.

Talking to you is just so easy these days, especially since Mingyu can monitor your aura to pick up on the topics that truly make your heart sing. He sticks to your hobbies, your friends, things that have you glowing. He enjoys when you ramble on, as it gives him a chance to stare at your lips and imagine them on his own once again.

After dinner, Mingyu treads carefully. He’s very conscious of the fact that he’s in your home, and he’d never want to overstep anything with you.

When you invite him to watch a movie, he sits a respectable distance, but when you ask him if he wants to cuddle, Mingyu can feel his resolve getting thin.

He shuffles over to be the big spoon, watching you carefully get in position in front of him. You snuggle back, your bum brushing by the front of his blue jeans, and Mingyu’s breath catches. His hand finds your hip, keeping you still.

You look over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly. “I just uh… it’s nothing.”

There’s a knowing in your eyes, and your aura glimmers with a mischievous tint that Mingyu usually sees with Soonyoung and Jeonghan.

You roll over, facing Mingyu. Your gaze dips to his lips then back up again. “I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu’s voice cracks. “Thinking about what?”

“That wedding date was really nice,” you muse, reaching up to trace your finger along his jaw. “I asked a lot of you when I invited you to that, but you came through for me. Luna even likes you, and I don’t think you understand how rare that is.”

“I’m more than willing to please,” Mingyu admits.

“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” You let out a giggle, your aura practically humming with happiness. “I’ve also been thinking about that kiss.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens, and you tuck in closer to his chest.

“Can I… do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Mingyu,” you coo, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The cupid takes in a shaky breath, cupping your cheek and staring into your eyes before he closes the distance between your lips. The first kiss had been soft, and this one is just as gentle, however, as you slant your mouth against his own, it begins to last much longer than the first one had.

You let out a small sigh, grabbing at the front of his shirt to drag yourself even closer. Your tongue darts out to lick at his lip and it makes Mingyu groan. His hand slips down to your hip, then the small of your back, pulling you the last few inches so you’re pressed to his chest.

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Mingyu’s spent his whole life matching humans, but now to be matched himself- there’s truly nothing like it in the whole world.

He gets lost in your lips, the way you let out more whimpers. He commits your sounds to memory, his fingers gently pressing at your skin. He’s doing his best not to be overbearing, he wants you to have all the control, and yet, he hopes it’s clear how much he wants you… how much he needs you, like the air he needs to breathe.

Luckily for Mingyu, you don’t mind taking a bit of control. With an annoyed groan, you move to straddle him, forcing Mingyu onto his back while your knees press into the couch on either side of his hips.

Your hands find his chest, and you stare down at him.

You’re so beautiful it almost hurts.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

Mingyu can hardly find his voice, but he manages to let out a choked, “Yeah.”

You lean down, pressing your lips against him again. Your tongue tastes his own, and as he’s leaning up to deepen the kiss, you pull away. Your hand finds his jaw, pushing his head to the side so you can access his throat, where you pepper his skin. You lick at sensitive spots that have him shivering, grabbing at the couch for any grip that can keep him from floating away from how good this feels.

Mingyu knows where this is going. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, which presses up against blue denim. He can even feel the heat between your own legs, an unspoken need that’s only building with each passing second.

His heart thunders in his chest. He hates to do it, but he whispers your name, prompting you to slow down your movements.

“Yes, Gyu?”

“I need…” he swallows thickly, closing his eyes in concentration. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is now the right time?” you giggle, licking his sweet spot and making a shiver run through his entire form.

“I can’t- I can’t do this without telling you everything about myself.”

“Sounds serious.” You pull away, sitting up so you can look down at him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m uh… really okay.” Mingyu does his best to steady his breathing, but with the view in front of him, it’s difficult. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I need to tell you.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, pressing your hand gently to his chest, palm over his heart. “I won’t judge you.”

“It’s not about judgment,” Mingyu sighs, placing his hand over your own. “I don’t know if you’ll even believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or something.”

“Try me.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I told you I’m a match maker.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that’s true- but… I didn’t tell you the extent of it.”

“The extent of it,” you repeat, and Mingyu can see you trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“I really don’t know how to say this with you looking at me with your pretty eyes,” Mingyu groans.

“Here.” You lift your free hand, covering your face. “Is this easier?” your words are slightly muffled by your palm, and the goofiness of it immediately relaxes Mingyu.

“Actually, yes.” He can’t help but giggle, and you join in with him while he takes the moment to ground himself. “Okay so basically…” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I’m a cupid.”

“Huh?” You still have your hand over your face, but it’s clear you’ve furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Luna can verify it. She’s a real witch, which…I was honestly kind of shocked at, and I’m a cupid, so if you don’t believe me about this, I get it, I really do. Listen- I was trying to match you with someone, and I just couldn’t do it. Then a cupid I was training shot me while I was looking at you, and long story short, Luna has a connection to Venus or something and Venus thought it would be a good idea if one of her sons actually fell in love, and now here I am, and it’s a mess, but… yeah.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Your aura flutters with mixed emotions, and it makes Mingyu’s stomach twist into knots about how you’ll react.

“Can I look at you?” you ask finally.

“Sure.”

You remove your hands from your eyes, gnawing on your lip and tilting your head while you study him. “I want to see your wings.”

“You what?”

“If you want me to believe you, I think I should see your wings. You’re a cupid, right? So you must have wings?”

Mingyu considers it a for a moment. He’s never shown a human his wings before, but he’s also never fallen in love with one either. He lets out a deep breath. “Okay, but I have to be on top to show you.”

You’re quick to agree, and after a short shuffle, Mingyu finds himself kneeling between your thighs. You’re resting on your back, propped against a pillow, and you’re watching him carefully.

“I’m gonna take my shirt off,” he warns you, grabbing at the hem of his white v-neck.

You stay quiet, eyes taking in each inch of exposed skin as Mingyu slowly strips his torso bare.

“I should tell you… I’ve been in human form when I’m with you. But when I show you my wings- when I go full cupid, you might not be able to resist me.”

You rake your gaze across his sculpted chest, enjoying the tanned skin, pretty pectoral muscles and washboard abs. “I’ve hardly been able to resist you like this,” you muse. “Dazzle me, Mingyu. I’m ready.”

The cupid takes a deep breath. When he exhales, he lets go of the walls he’s built up. He allows his full self to come into form, his large white wings taking shape behind him. When he’s human, he kind of forgets about the wings, they’re always with him, just not always physical. Now that they’re out, he can feel the temperature of your apartment, the slight cool sensation against his sensitive feathers.

Mingyu can’t help but stretch the appendages, allowing his full wing span to protrude outward from his back.

He hears a small squeak of surprise that escapes your lips, and you sit up immediately, clearly wanting a better look at the marvelous wings.

“Are you sure you’re a cupid and not an angel?” you ask, your gaze meeting his as your fingers extend to hook in the waistline of his jeans.

“I can be anything you want me to be,” Mingyu whispers.

You lick your lips, eying his wings again. “Are they sensitive?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Can I… Can I touch?”

Mingyu stares at you for a second. No hands but his own have ever touched his wings. Cupid wings are sacred, like their bows and arrows. Mingyu doesn’t touch his brothers’ sacred things, and they don’t touch his.

But you’re not one of his brothers.

He slowly nods. He can’t find it within himself to give you a verbal confirmation, not when he holds his breath waiting for contact.

“I’ll be gentle,” you promise. It’s almost as if you can sense his hesitancy about this- although, from the tense way Mingyu’s holding his body, he supposes it’s no secret.

As one final show of trust, Mingyu adjusts his right wing, folding it around his body so you don’t have to reach so far. He watches you close the distance between your fingers and the white feathers.

When your digits make contact, a shiver runs through him. You’re quick to pull your hand away, eyes widening. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Mingyu shakes his head, catching his breath. “I just… no one has ever touched my wings.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you haven’t dated a lot.”

“I’ve never dated,” Mingyu corrects the white lie from when he’d first met you.

“Never?”

“Never,” the cupid confirms. “I’ve had… interactions with other immortals, but I never let them see my wings. You’re the first human to ever see me. Like this, and in all ways.”

Your aura beats with adoration for him, and the emotion written across your face doesn’t need to be said.

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so his lips press against yours.

Mingyu flattens a palm against the arm of your couch to steady himself, half leaning over your form while the kiss deepens.

You trail your hand from his neck to his shoulder, moving slowly and gently, another wordless communication.

When you touch his wing again, it’s not sudden, instead, it’s anticipated, and Mingyu can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him.

Your fingers glide over a feather, tracing it. When you repeat the motion, Mingyu thinks he might faint from how good it feels.

“Oh my Gods,” Mingyu whimpers, breaking the kiss to pant heavily against your neck while you trail your lips along his cheek bone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?”

“So good,” he admits, his jeans feeling painfully tight now.

It’s as if you can read him. As if he’s a book that you’ve memorized, dog earring your favourite things. Each touch has him enthralled by you, and each touch is perfection.

You drag your free hand along his chest, moving down-

His breath catches when you cup him through his jeans.

He must be as hard as a rock, and you trace the outline of his bulge, teasing your digits along the tip.

“Please-” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting of their own accord, looking for any friction he can find while you continue to stroke his wing.

“Tell me what you need,” you encourage him, applying more pressure to his cock.

“I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

“Then taste me,” you practically purr.

Mingyu’s had his fair share of one night stands with sirens and demi gods and other beings of the like- he knows what he’s doing as he gets off the couch and sinks to his knees.

He grabs at you, man handling you into a position that works for him before tugging off your sweat pants.

You release a giggle, leaning back against the couch cushions while he spreads your thighs. Mingyu looks up at you, meeting your gaze as he begins to kiss up your legs, taking his time to pepper your skin.

That pretty pink aura practically blinds him as he works his way closer and closer to where you need him most. He can see a wet patch along the fabric of your panties, and he can’t help but spread your legs open even more, leaning forward to press a kiss to your clit through the silky material.

You let out a sigh of happiness as Mingyu begins to lick and prod your panty clad core. He can taste you along the fabric and it’s driving him insane.

His fingers squeeze your thighs, and he allows you to adjust one over his shoulder- then your toes brush past the base of his wing, causing him to moan loudly. You shiver from the vibrations of it, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair.

He eats you through your panties until you’re bucking against his face- until his cock is throbbing so hard he physically can’t wait any longer.

Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he tugs your underwear down your legs, and then he’s burying his tongue in your core.

You release a squeal of delight, tightening your grip in his hair. You pull him even closer, wrapping your legs around his head as he licks your pussy like he’s never licked anything in his entire life.

The sounds you’re making now are better than all the angel songs Mingyu’s ever heard. He could listen to you whine and moan for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, just like that, oh my God- Gyu-”

He wraps his lips around your clit and you whimper, pussy beginning to throb in preparation for the orgasm Mingyu can’t wait to drag out of you.

Your fingers tug on his hair, and the pain only makes him go harder. He sucks hard on your sensitive bud, flicking at it and groaning at your taste.

Mingyu’s eaten fruit from the Garden of Eden. He’s eaten fairy nectar and every mystical delicacy he could get his hands on. But nothing - nothing - has ever tasted the way you do.

He could get drunk from your pussy- in fact, he already is.

His mind is going hazy, words are losing their meaning. It’s as animalistic as Mingyu’s ever felt, he has two goals: the first, to make you cum harder than you ever have, and the second, to do it again, but with his cock.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper, rutting against his face. “Please, don’t stop-”

Your sounds get pitchier and pitchier until you let out a gasp. Your pussy clenches around nothing while he sucks on your clit, intent on drawing out your orgasm.

You begin to squirm and he holds you down with both hands, eating you out until you’re a moaning, shaking mess.

When your grip loosens on his hair, he pulls away, looking up at you.

You’re an absolute vision. Your chest is heaving under your shirt, your lips puffy from kissing and biting. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back, body still twitching.

Mingyu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up. He undoes his jeans, pausing for a moment before pushing them down. “Still want this?” he clarifies.

You open your eyes, looking up at him with the most fucked out expression he’s ever seen. “If you don’t fuck me, so help me God, I’ll get Luna to cast a spell on you.”

Mingyu can only laugh. “Like… a love spell?” Mingyu asks as he pushes his pants and underwear down. “Because trust me, nothing in the world could make me more into you than I already am.”

“Is that so?” you grin, pulling off your shirt to join him in nudity.

“Uh huh. Which is why I can’t fuck you on this couch.” Mingyu reaches down, scooping you up into his arms. “Which way’s the bedroom?”

“Last door on the left down the hall,” you sigh, tucking close to his chest.

You pepper his throat in kisses the entire way to your room, where Mingyu gently sets you onto the bed.

“Do we… should we use protection?” you ask.

Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I can conjure my bow and arrow-”

You let out a laugh, your aura glimmering with amusement. “No, silly, I mean like condoms.”

“Oh…” Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Should we?”

“I mean… I’m on birth control…” you look him up and down. “Your magic cupid cock isn’t gonna outsmart the pill, is it?”

“That’s a good question.” Mingyu looks down at his rock hard length, wrapping a hand around it to relieve some of the pressure there.

“You know what? Fuck it.” You hold your arms open for him. “Just get inside of me.”

Mingyu laughs, getting onto the bed. He holds himself over you with an elbow pressed to the mattress, his free palm finding your abdomen. “I should work you open a little first,” he tells you, pressing his lips to your own.

“I don’t mind a little pain.” You reach for his cock, stroking the precum on the tip and tracing the length of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mingyu admits. “Ever.”

You don’t respond, you simply kiss him deeper. Mingyu takes this as a confirmation to drag his fingers down to your core. He starts with his middle digit, teasingly pushing it in and out of your wet hole.

You pump his cock while he works you open, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him on the edge. He adds a second finger and you mewl desperately against his lips, hips rutting to match his pace.

You’re practically drenching his hand. At this point, he knows you could take him- he just wants to see how much you’ll allow before your beg for it.

Mingyu loves playing with you like this. He enjoys the act of love making, and he’s in no rush- although, his cock is starting to be something near painful with the amount of blood that has him standing at attention.

“Gyu…” you whimper, pumping him even harder.

It’s clear you’re about to beg- but he can’t stand to actually have you do it. He gives in immediately, pulling his fingers from your core. He brushes your hand away from his length, lining himself up with your pussy.

Mingyu presses his lips to yours as he pushes inside, moving slowly so you can adjust to inch after inch of his girthy cock.

You grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, gently digging your nails into his skin. No matter how hard you try, Mingyu doubts you could actually draw blood, and what might be painful to a human is nothing more than an annoying tingle, but it’s hardly a distraction from the feeling of your pussy swollowing him up.

He can’t help the groans that leave him as he kisses you, finally flush with your body. Your walls throb around him, adjusting to the intrusion.

“Mingyu,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Please-”

He begins slowly. Mingyu’s not sure how fragile humans truly are, and he doesn’t want to fuck you so hard that your back breaks. Instead, he takes his time, adding more and more speed and power. He notes your reactions, notes what makes you squeal.

When he’s satisfied with a particular whimper, he stays doing what motion had earned the sound. The whole bed is rocking from his thrusts, and you’ve turned into a moaning mess for him again- but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, you’re so good-” you gasp, breaking the kiss to lick at his throat, circling his sweet spot while he fucks you into the mattress.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers as he fucks you. There’s something intimate about the hand holding- and when he looks up, he realizes it’s the hands that have red strings on their wrists.

However, as he fucks you even faster, he notices the strings aren’t simply their own bracelets anymore- they’re somehow intertwined.

Mingyu can’t bring himself to think about it too hard, not when your wriggling under him, your wet pussy engulfing him with each thrust-

Your free hand reaches around his back, fingers brushing over a feather, and Mingyu almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck-” he whimpers. “If you do that again, I’m gonna-”

“Cum with me,” you whisper. “Please, I’m so close- if you fill me up, I just know I’ll get there.”

You stroke another feather and Mingyu’s entire body twitches, his muscles tensing with pleasure.

“Please, Mingyu!”

You’re on the verge of tears, and when Mingyu looks down at you, he’s completely overtaken by how much you’re glowing. He’s never seen a human aura glow like yours- and now, you look absolutely godly beneath him.

One more stroke of his feathers has Mingyu groaning loudly. He buries his face in your neck, squeezing your hand as he pushes his cock as deep inside of you as it can go. He can feel each heavy beat of his heart as he fills you with rope upon rope of cum-

Your pussy clenches tightly around him, and from the way you’re moaning in his ear, he knows you’ve reached your high too.

All you can do is hold each other, breathing each other in while you get lost in a pleasure that could never be topped.

He’s in love with you, body and soul.

Mingyu’s not sure how long he cums, all he knows is that he’s practically spent as he comes down from the high. He’s breathing heavily, you both are, and he stays on top of you while you ground yourselves again.

You begin to stroke the back of his neck, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to put some distance between your chests so he can get a good look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Better than okay,” you muse with a lazy grin. “And Gyu?”

“Yeah?”

“As crazy as this is… I love you too.”

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize what you’re saying, because he hasn’t directly said those words- and yet, he’d betrayed himself multiple times without even realizing it. He’d mentioned getting shot with an arrow, Venus wanting a son to fall in love. He’d even said that no love potion could make his feelings stronger than they already are.

Mingyu had been so lost in you that he hadn’t even known that all of his walls had come crumbling down.

There’s no secret he’ll ever be able to keep from you, and that’s clear now.

But there’s no secret he’d ever want to keep from you.

You’re his other half. His pink aura baby. And staring down at you in the aftermaths of the best sex of his life, Mingyu knows that whatever happens, you’ll be his soulmate till the day he ceases to exist.

Nine - the note

Hi, gorgeous. I’m sorry you have to wake up alone. Duty calls. I’ve got council meetings this morning that I can’t miss. But we’re connected now. One tug on your red string and I’ll know you’re trying to connect. There’s no where in your world or mine that I could go where you can’t reach me. I love you. I’m here for the long run. If you want, I can see you tonight. Give the string three tugs anytime after noon, and I’ll be there faster than you can even imagine.

Hugs & kisses

Love,

Cupid

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! Happy (belated) Valentine's Day to all us Gyu obsessed hotties

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. You’re practically drooling as Mingyu shrugs the fabric off of his body, revealing a form that was literally sculpted by the Gods. You could stare at him forever and never get bored. He’s the sexiest person you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, earning a loud groan, you know that he’s all yours.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu loves pussy, oral (m/f receiving), big dick Mingyu, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, deep throating, face fucking, touching cupid wings as a sexual stimulus, female masturbation while giving a blow job, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, etc… I petnames. (hers) gorgeous. (his) big guy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s Valentine’s Day and you wake up alone, and yet, you don’t really mind.

In the few months you’ve been dating your Cupid, he’s stepped up his game when it comes to checking in on the matches he’s made. As he’s become closer with Luna, and heard her failed love story, Mingyu’s been increasingly diligent on all things human relations.

He’s left a note for you on your pillow, as he does every morning he has to work instead of waking up with you.

You read it with a smile, enjoying all the hearts he’s drawn across the lined paper.

You don’t mind spending the first part of your Valentine’s Day alone. Three rough tugs on the string around your wrist would draw your lover back, but you figure his job is important today of all days.

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae

@anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @vantxx95 - @bangshii

@poutypoutybin - @notbeforelong - @creepybakeoven

@ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @binchangf

@chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee

@learnthisfeeling - @gigilame - @cumtrov3rsy

@mocha000 - @darthlunaa - @just-here-to-read-01 - @shiningnono

@lovelyhan - @grilledbananas - @aaniag

svt taglist:

@rebeccasficrecs - @alltowoo - @taestrwbrry - @greysdarling

@joonsneptune - @candidupped - @cheolussy

@yourfavoritefreakyhan - @asjkdk

thanks to those who interacted with the teaser:

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#mingyu #mingyu smut #svthub #kim mingyu #kim mingyu smut #svt #svt smut #seventeen #seventeen smut #mingyu svt #svt mingyu #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #mingyu svt smut #svt mingyu smut #cupid mingyu

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nadvs · 10 months ago

Text

watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

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#the way i listen to a playlist called ‘fratboy anthems’ while i work on this series….#don’t think i’ve ever written this much this fast??? what rafe cameron does to a mf #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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