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txemrn · 3 years ago

Text

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

Tag List (please please please let me know if you need to be added or removed!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @dcbbw @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #leo x madeleine #royal roulette #choices fanfiction #choices trr

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 3 years ago

Note

I know this might be a lot to ask, but I've seen sometimes people explain shortly the reason why they chose specific songs or specific lyrics. Do you feel like doing that with Fuelara's songs? ^^

Naah, I don't think it's not that much to ask, especially since I don't have that many songs in it (as of now at least)

Almost Touch me by Maisy Kay

This song is here because of the beginning. The game of cat and mouse they played. The "can I?", "should I?", "am I allowed to?" It's there because of the "almost touch me", because they had so many moments where they could have wound up together faster, if they had just spoken out about what was going on, the differences and misunderstandings.

What have you done by Within Temptation

This one I chose because of the misunderstandings as well. They both might feel like they need to keep burdens to themselves, when that is not the case. And there's certainly been those moments when they've wondered if it's all worth it. The song has lyrics about "why does fate hate us, put this curse between us" and that I think describes well the situation they've been in. They've had to work for their relationship, and they want it, but it's also been hard on them. Though the song is meant as a breakup song (I suppose), there is that theme of wanting to be together, but it seeming as if something else is trying to drive them apart.

Not strong enough by Apocalyptica

This is here because despite the fates, or just circumstances making them earn their relationship, they have that earning to be together. But the general theme of the song is also oozing with a bit of desperation. And I think that this perhaps best explains the duality of wanting to be together, but it's not so simple. But. Neither can also deny their feelings, nor do they really want to stay way from each other. "Like a moth I'm drawn to the flame".

King by Lauren Aquilina

This is one of the songs that I imagine to describe things that Lara wants to tell Fue. He's strong, and she knows it, but he has his moments of weakness, just like any human. And she wants to remind him that he is still very wrong. "[He] can be king again".

In the name of love by Martin Garrix

This is meant as a kind of testimony of their love. It's about, in a way, the absurdity of how much they feel for each other. There's things that they ask, what would the other do in the name of love, and it's not things that no one would ask from their loved one. But the singer also speaks about how "you bring me back to life", so it goes with the exaggeration of what love does (and what is spoken of love). This song is about how much they feel for each other, to the point where it feels unreal and perhaps even absurd.

For the man I loved by Karliene

This I felt to be a very tender love song, that was just very heartfelt. But also things that she thinks when they're apart. She tries to remember how he is, because she is thinking about him and longs to be with him.

Meet me on the battlefield by Skrivna

This song speaks about the weariness that comes from fighting for their relationship (yes, again), but also speaks about the upcoming war against the devils. They know that it's up ahead, but want to face it together.

I want you here by Plumb

To me this song was about the longing they feel as well. The wish to be together, while seemingly again being pulled apart. This song is about how they feel that people are coming between them, even if without intending, which makes her (them) feel as if it's a bad dream, and they just want to be together.

Tears of an angel RyanDan

Again to go with the theme of fearing to loose the other, accompanied with something celestial or related to fate. Also "hold on, be strong" speaks to me about how they just need to hold onto hope that it'll be alright and that they'll have each other in the end. So, there's that flicker of hope at the end of the tunnel.

Bleeding out by Molly Hunt

This is again about the approaching war, as well as the other problems they still have to face. More from Lara's perspective. But she's "closing her eyes and breathing in", and trying to fight for what she wants; a future together. That's... what I'll say for now ;)

I'll probably add songs as the story progresses, but this is it for now ^-^ Thank you for the question!

#black clover oc playlist #fuelara #fuegoleon x solara

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d-nghy-ck · 4 years ago

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Coming Soon:

Affection After Hours · Haechan x reader, fluff, smut, romance, established relationship, office au

Tonight, Donghyuck enters your shared home, unraveling from his business-mindset and attire into the affectionate yet pliantly sleepy man you adore. You find joy in comforting Donghyuck after a long day in the office; Donghyuck finds comfort in enjoying you. Just your touch is enough to retrieve and create memories of you, in past, present, and future.

Heavenly · Haechan x reader, adventurous smut, fluff, casual lovers to established relationship, based on the lyrics of Highway to Heaven

Behind Donghyuck’s flirtatious, playful glances lies an intention to have you alone, one on one, and to love you properly without a single distraction in the way. Young infatuation spins into a whirlwind as he spontaneously leads you into the freedom of the outskirts of the city. Anticipation and temptation peak, and soon he has you falling into his arms and against his heart which thrums at the chance to adore you without a single inhibition. The most unexpected intention of all comes with the new side of Donghyuck you’re thrilled to discover, as infatuation leads to something deeper.

Read My Lips · Smut, a blowjob in a library, teasing with praise, slight corruption kink, slight exhibitionism, college boyfriend Hyuck

Donghyuck is reasoning with the riskiness of the situation; you’re on your knees for him and he’s way too turned on to be in a public library. Consequently, you’re reasoning with the most inconspicuous way to get him into your mouth. Something about the thoughts evident behind your attentive gaze helps him make up his mind, reasoning be damned.

Untitled · Fighter AU, rivals to lovers romance, inspired by the Kick It MV aesthetic

Haechan is a frustrated, competitive offense martial artist who learns strength in defense and emotional-well being through the guidance of his female competitor. Tapping into his vulnerabilities seems to be his breaking point.

Starshower · Haechan x reader, romance, fluff, smut, soulmate au, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

As Donghyuck strolls the neighborhood streets with you by his side, recurring dreams of you float through his mind. What could they mean, and why do they awaken within him such an irresistible draw to his best friend? Beneath the tiny umbrella you share, his heart races with every soft bump of your shoulder against his, every curious glance that grazes his eyes and lips, every breath that puffs his way. The pitter-patter of rain splashing around the pair of you resembles the stars of fate showering upon you their undeniable grace. One certainty Donghyuck knows is that it feels so right to love you, and just that realization is enough to make his heart beat impossibly faster. It’s when you turn to him, a breath’s width apart, to reveal a truth he never would have dared to imagine until now, that Donghyuck begins to believe in the wonder of destiny.

Sightseeing · Haechan x reader, fluff, suggestive, summer love!

In Your Arms · Fluff, suggestive, best friends to cuddle buddies to lovers

A winter getaway to the mountains with your friends, Hyuck, and some fluttery feelings in the moments in between.

Love, Dawned · Fluff, lighthearted young love, crush + best friend Hyuck

Even with your finger sealing his lips, Donghyuck is insistent that you understand his filterless, unintelligible mumbles.

Eternity · Best friends to lovers, bed sharing, fluff

i: The tranquil, meandering daydream thoughts of a late night, your hands twirling idly in his as he speaks. ii: The following golden-hued, languid waking hours cuddled against him, with your thoughts of his arms around you.

Rising Hour · Suggestive fluff, domestic boyfriend Hyuck

Considering you just stumbled in, barely awoken from slumber and seeking his warmth with your fingertips, his virtual class might have to wait.

Adorned by You · Smut, oral (female-receiving), praise and comfort, boyfriend Hyuck

Wearing Donghyuck’s shirt feels like home to you, a reminder of the familiarity of his scent, the warmth of his laughter, and the comfort of his arms. Donghyuck is committed to ensuring you know you’re his home, too.

Counterpoint · Music majors college AU, competitors to lovers

It looks like you'll have to set aside time in your hectic symphony practice schedule for 1. collaborating on a music composition thesis with the easy-going, creative, slick-mouthed pianist Haechan who tests every fiber of your classically-trained violinist being, and 2. as much as you despise yourself for admitting it, somehow resisting his alluring charm.

Untitled · Bakery AU, mutual pining romance, fluff, eventual smut

Wherein bakery-owner Haechan finds himself enthralled with the local editorial writer who frequents his shop.

City Lights · Idol!Haechan, mutual pining romance, slight angst, inspired by the UN Village aesthetic

As a means to escape the chaos of the bustling city, Haechan usually ventures to his favorite hilltop to immerse himself in deep thought over the serene, twinkling view of the city. This time he unexpectedly brings you along.

Untitled · Smut, idol!Haechan

Ego-boosted and self-righteous, he finds you after his live performance, glistening under the lights of the stage.

Join my tag list if you would like to be notified of releases!

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team-free-will-you-idjits-67 · 4 years ago

Text

Ain’t My Fault

DESCRIPTION: Who knew dancing could changed everything forever?

CHARACTERS: Dean Winchester, Reader

RELATIONSHIP: Dean Winchester x Reader

WARNINGS: SMUTTTTTT. Like, hella smut.

WORD COUNT: 1880

AUTHOR’S NOTE: HEYYO! This was a request from the lovely @rileynicole1967. She wanted me to write a one shot based off Zara Larsson’s song “Ain’t My Fault”. Well, it’s pretty dirty and based off the lyrics, thats exactly how it was meant to be. I did use lyrics from the song and they will be bolded within the story! I hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST / DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST

The boys had left, Sam to go see Eileen and Dean to go for a long supply run, so you dragged your small bluetooth stereo system out into the library. Your hips swayed along with the quick beat of a song you barely knew, the few drinks you’d had before this certainly helping your rhythm as you danced between tables.

Halfway through the song, your glass of whiskey was empty. You continued dancing over towards the small rolling bar that Dean made sure was fully stocked with hard liquor. You bit your lip as you poured your whiskey, the amber liquid sloshed around in the glass partly from your dancing but also from the buzz that was building in your head.

Soon enough, the song changed and Led Zeppelin’s ‘Communication Breakdown’ started playing. You fell easily into the familiar beat, closing your eyes as you roamed through the library, bumping into the tables as you danced. You sang every word, knowing it from your long night drives with the boys after hunts. You didn’t hear when Dean returned sooner than you expected. The music was too loud to hear the bunker door shut, Dean’s boots stomp against the metal stairs and him pulling out a chair from the map room table.

You turned around, stopping mid motion when you saw Dean, feet propped up on the table and sipping a beer slowly. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he chuckled and said, “Oh c’mon sweetheart, don’t stop the show. I just got settled in to enjoy it.”

You smirked with a soft blush raising to your cheeks, “Oh really, Winchester?” You began swaying your hips to the music again as you walked down the steps to the other side of the map room table. You set your glass down onto the lit up bench, and closed the short distance between Dean and yourself with sensual movements. You pushed his feet off the table and spread his legs to dance up close and personal to the eldest Winchester. You could see Dean gulp hard as his eyes fixed themselves to your face, “How are you liking this show?”

His eyes trailed down your body, an action that normally would have embarrassed you but the whiskey clouded brain you currently had made you more confident in your decisions, “Oh, sweetheart. I’m enjoying it more than you would know.” He sat back in his seat, digesting the new side of you he was seeing.

He shifted in his seat, moving his legs and accidentally tripping you. You fell into his lap and giggled, “You just made me trip, fall, and land on your lap.”

Dean bit his lip softly and smiled, “See, you’re too irresistible to not be in my lap.”

You repositioned yourself to face him and pushed your chest into his as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “Oh really, Winchester?”

He eyed your lips, “Yeah, that’s for sure.”

Crimson embarrassment quickly flooded to your cheeks as you debated giving in to the sexual tension that had been building between you two for months or ending this before it went too far. You looked down at his plump, luscious lips and decided, “Please don’t blame me for what ever happens next,” and dipped to connect your lips with his.

You could tell he was surprised at first but soon his lips moved along with yours, getting hungrier for more the longer you kissed. You both grabbed at each other, pulling off layers of flannel before Dean wrapped his arms around your torso tightly and he stood up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he walked through the bunker, feeling his erection grow with the increased pressure.

He rounded the corner of his bedroom and kicked the door closed before throwing you on to his bed. You giggled as you bounced against the mattress but soon quieted as you saw Dean’s expression. His eyes were dark and shadowed with lust, his bottom lip was caught between his teeth as he inched his way towards you.

Dean crawled up the bed and laid down beside you, caressing your cheek as his eyes darted between your y/e/c eyes and rosy, kiss swollen lips. It was almost like he was giving you the chance to back out, but with the effects of the whiskey fading, you realized you’d wanted this for awhile, you just never had the courage to give in to temptation. You pulled at his dark gray t-shirt, bringing him closer to you. Smiling, you looked at his lips and then leaned in. You melted into each other as you kissed, limbs entangled together, clothes grabbed and pulled, and soon enough you both laid in your underwear beside each other.

You shifted, getting on top of Dean without breaking the kiss. Running your hands down his arms, you intertwined your fingers with his, pulling his hands above his head as your ground down onto his clothed member. Arousal pooled within your panties, soaking through the thin cotton as you continued your ministrations.

Dean pulled his hands away from yours and wrapped them around you back. His fingers slipped around your bra band with ease and tugged at the clasps, undoing it quickly before removing it in one swift motion, all while never breaking your kiss. Your nipples hardened against the cool air now surrounding them, shifting Dean’s focus towards them as he felt them brush against his chest.

His lips strayed from yours as he kissed down your neck to your chest. He took his time as he brushed his lips against your left breast before taking your nipple into his mouth softly. His tongue grazed against the soft, pink, bud as his fingers pulled at the opposite hardened peak. You arched your back from his touch, pushing your chest further into his face and hand. You ground your clothed core onto his erection once more, causing Dean to growl against you. Your smirk from his reaction quickly turned into a gasp as he nipped at your nipple and then flipped you onto your back.

“You aren’t going to tease me anymore like that, babygirl.” He rutted himself against you with a smirk as you squirmed beneath him. “It’s your turn now.”

You whimpered, “Oh c’mon Dean, I wasn’t teasing that bad.”

He let out one, deep chuckle, “Doesn’t matter.” He made his way down your body, kissing your silky skin between every word, “What. You. Do. To. Me. Gets. Done. Twice. As. Bad. To. You,” before he settled between your legs. You squirmed, causing him to laugh quietly to himself, “Get ready, babygirl.”

Dean kissed your thighs, giving attention to every paled scar, yellowing bruise, and bump from broken bones from hunting. Giving no attention to the area that you wanted him to. Arousal continued to pool and soak through your panties, which Dean soon noticed and bit his lip towards. “Damn, Y/N. Soaking already?” He ran a finger around the band of your panties with a smug grin, “I’ve barely touched you.” You shot daggers at him briefly for the comment but they went unnoticed.

He slipped another finger through the waistband and slowly pulled your panties down your legs before throwing the wet fabric across the room, Dean’s focus followed your underwear until they landed on his desk. When his focus shifted back to you, he groaned when he saw your clit glistening below him.

You blushed at his reaction and looked towards the ceiling to try and conceal your slight embarrassment, but Dean’s fingers grazing your slit made you look down towards him. He took his time, ignoring the arousal swollen bud that was in his face, tracing your entrance with his finger and gathering your slick on the tip. He turned his finger slowly, looking at the light bounce off his arousal covered finger. Plunging the finger into his mouth he closed his eyes and sighed, “Mmm, don’t you taste good.”

You squirmed once again, “Dean, please.”

He bit his lip as he looked up towards your face from between your legs, “Please what?”

You growled in frustration. “You know what I wan-,” you cut yourself off with a gasp when Dean dipped his head and wrapped his lips around your clit. He sucked and licked at the nub slowly, as his fingers entered you lazily, both his mouth and fingers worked in unison to bring you towards your climax quickly.

You moaned beneath him, grabbing at the sheets as you felt the slow burn in your belly turn into a raging wildfire. “Dean,” you gasped out.

His mouth left your clit for a second so he could praise you, “That’s it. Be a good girl and cum for me, Y/N.” Dean’s lips wrapped around the bud once more as he worked his fingers slightly faster, waiting for you to come undone beneath him.

“Fuck!” You moaned as you pulled at the sheets, your orgasm washing over you rapidly. Dean removed his fingers and swept his tongue through your slick, taking one last taste before he got off the bed to remove his boxers. You stifled a gasp as you watched his member bounce in the air from his waistband catching, the length and girth better than you imagined.

He climbed back into the bed quickly and settled between your legs once more to line himself up with your entrance. His tongue peaked out between his teeth as he pushed into you slowly, both of you groaned until he was fully sheathed inside you, fitting perfectly. “Fuck,” he chuckled out. “Better than I imagined.”

You giggled, “I could say the same to you.”

Dean grinned and then began thrusting gradually falling into the perfect rhythm. The tip of his cock rubbed against your g-spot perfectly. Your fingers dug into his back, your nails leaving red trails down his bronzed skin, as another orgasm snuck up on you. You clenched around Dean as you came down from your high. Secondary waves washed over you, causing you to contract around him periodically, bringing him to his climax rapidly. His thrusts began to falter before he came with a grunt.

He fell onto the bed at your side and pulled you towards him, kissing the top of your head as you shifted in his arms to lay your head against his chest. “Well,” he snickered, “That was something that I never thought would happen.”

You buried your face into his chest with a giggle, “I told you not to blame me for what happened next.”

He pulled away slightly and slid his hand beneath your chin to pull your face up to look towards his. “I would never blame you for this.” He looked into your eyes and placed a soft kiss to your lips, “This was something that I wanted, hell, I think we both wanted to happen for a while.” His eyes crinkled in the corners as a small smile crept onto his face before he pulled you into his chest, “This should have happened sooner.”

You sighed as you wrapped an arm around his waist, “It definitely should have.”

It didn’t take long for you both to fall asleep within each other's arms for the first time of many to come.

TAGLIST:

FOREVER TAGS:

@emoryhemsworth , @nanie5 , @gabrielslittleangel, @alexwinchester23 , @witch-of-letters , @caswinchester2000 , @justawaywardwinchester , @thehufflepuffblog , @missihart23 , @spnfamily-alwayskeepfighting, @mogaruke, @supernaturalsammy01, @heyitscam99, @hobby27, @frozenhuntress67, @duskany, @mazie87 , @tumbler-tidbits , @mersuperwholocked-lowlife, @asfanfiction , @emilyshurley , @zephyrie , @ghostshadow1312 , @wholockmerlinlover, @singers-auto, @lokilove3112, @teddybeardoctorr, @sleepylunarwolf, @negans-lucille-tblr

DEAN/JENSEN X READER TAGS:

@xxtheoutsidersxx, @betsy-bradock, @adoptdontshoppets, @dean-winchesters-bacon , @jerkbitchidjitassbutt, @smoothdogsgirl

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural smut #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #spn smut #spn fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester and reader #dean winchester and y/n

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moonchildsaurora · 4 years ago

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༻✧༺ Gliding in a Winter Wonderland ༻✧༺

✤ badboy!Mingi x reader ✤ genre: Christmas AU // a bucket load of fluff ✤ t/w: sfw, maybe two lines of very brief suggestive spice, rated PG ✤ count: 800

a/n - FINALLY FOR ONCE IT AIN’T AN ANGST PIECE HAHAHA!! This is for my one and only wildflower, @hereisleo 🌹 MERRY CHRISTMAS YA FLITHY ANIMAL AND I LOVE YOU. Not gonna lie, writing fluff is like a whole another dimension for me, but this was really fun and now I know why most writers love writing them badboy!AUs hahahaha. Also I started drinking my glass of wine half-way writing this so please mind any grammar mistakes and ignore the chaotic ending. It was a cute scene playing out in my head. Hooray for my first Mingi piece too!! Missing Mingi hours are wide open 💙

An unrestrained deep chortle graced your already blushing ears, that wasn’t just from the wintry cold.

Even from at a distance you could hear one of your favourite sounds among the city chatter. Although you were seriously contemplating on renouncing that fact, considering how he left you in the dire circumstance you were in at the moment.

“Mingi! I swear I will dismantle your ride faster than you could click that button!”

Your threat only caused the leather jacket-clad giant to burst out laughing again, smoke blowing out enthusiastically from the cigarette that casually hung from full lips.

“Real cute, babe.”

Inked hands decorated with bold silver bands held up the phone steadily to record your progress. After all, your first time out on the ice rink was a milestone achievement in his eyes and thus he had to save this treasured memory.

As cliché as it might’ve sound, you felt like Bambi on ice.

“Free fun for everyone he said…it’ll be a piece of cake he said…” grumbling under your breath as you slowly made your way over to the railings closest to where your boyfriend sat by the bench. It was more of an awkward tip-toe walk rather than the graceful gliding like the other skaters around you were capable of. Your gloved hands, kept toasty warm within a pair of fluffy grey and pink bunny mittens that Mingi bought for you, grasped the railing securely.

“You said this was going to be fun for the both of us, so why do I feel like that statement only applies to you right now?” you almost whined, watching Mingi put his phone away in his pocket. He blew out another ring of silver smoke that seamlessly disappeared into the air before stubbing the cigarette out against the metal bench and threw it away in the bin.

The leather jacket sure did well to emphasise his toned shoulders, stretching around enticingly as Mingi made his way to you. The black turtleneck he wore underneath added a level of modern chicness too. You were particularly fond of the way his inked vines peeked out cheekily from the neckline.

When he got close enough he leaned on top of the railing’s surface, propping his chin up on one hand whilst the other held his own pair of skates. Your fingers itched with temptation to run themselves through his hair, the feeling of his freshly shaved sides that would brush against your skin softly never failed to send tingles down your spine. But you knew he put in the effort to style it this morning, managing to sleek it back in a suave wave that you’d rather not mess with.

Mingi gently bumped his forehead against yours, eyes crinkling into crescent moons and toothy smile on display.

“Sorry baby, you were simply just too adorable. And besides…”

That innocent smile morphed into a devious one instantly, voice dropping an octave lower and he tilted his head in to teasingly brush his nose against yours.

Before he whispered, “…the fun don’t start till I come in, right?” like a scandalous secret just for you to hear. Even having the audacity to cock an eyebrow right after as he gave you a knowing look. The metal on his brow giving off a mirthful glint when it catches the light.

Heat and pink bloomed across your cheeks, an indignant squawk escaped from you. In your flustered state you simultaneously managed to headbutt Mingi and lose your footing. Landing in a heap on the cold ice did not help your already sore hips from previous night shenanigans.

Mingi cooed at you, rubbing the slightly red spot on his nose which earned him a glare from your end.

When he finally entered the ice rink, your pout deepened from watching how the blades of his skates worked harmoniously with the surface to get him to where you were at in no time. Strong arms collected you from the ground and held you in a safe cocoon that you were oh so familiar with.

“What can I do to see my favourite smile appear?” Mingi asked, fixing up your scarf and beanie to ensure you stayed warm.

You tapped your finger to your chin, pretending to be deep in thought. Instead of using words, you tugged the collars of his jacket down swiftly. Effectively catching him off guard and claiming his lips as compensation for before – still tasting the smoke that lingered with subtle hints of mint from the morning toothpaste on his tongue.

Mingi’s arms around your waist tightened and you couldn’t help but smile into the blissful kiss when you heard his attempts of concealing a moan from the back of his throat.

Last Christmas I gave you my heart…

The kiss was broken with a gasp and soon the public ice rink was filled with that iconic Christmas tune through the loud speakers. Mingi looked to you with the brightest twinkle in his eyes and before you even had a chance to breathe; he took you by the hand and off you both went. Dancing across the ice with him belting out loud along to the lyrics and safe to say, everyone else in the vicinity witnessed you receiving quite the serenade.

“BUT THE VERY NEXT DAY YOU GAVE IT AWAY!”

“Mingi, slow down! Oh my–“

“THIS YEAR, TO SAVE ME FROM TEARS I’LL GIVE IT TO SOMEONE SPECIAL!”

“I’m sorry! MINGI yes you are very special – FACE FORWARD…dear lord we almost ran the other couple down...”

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hookedonapirate · 4 years ago

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Through the Rising Tide

Thank you so much for the beautiful graphic @itsfabianadocarmo!

Summary: The Jones brothers are polar opposites. Liam's the safe and honorable one, straight-laced and straight as an arrow. The good son.

Killian's the dangerous one, the bad boy with tats, leather jackets, a motorcycle and a questionable past.

The only things they have in common are panty-melting sea-blue eyes, the flat they share in Storybrooke and a rare blood type.

Oh, and apparently their taste in women.

Or rather, one woman.

Feisty.

Blonde.

Gorgeous.

Green-eyed Goddess.

Killian saw her first, but she chose his brother—the nice guy over the playboy. And even though she’s dating his brother, it doesn't make him want her any less. If that's not bad enough, she moves in with them and he has to pretend he's not completely in love with her. His life could not get any worse…

Until Liam dies in a tragic motorcycle accident.

Leaving each of them with one half of a broken heart.

Now Killian and Emma are left helping each other pick up the pieces.

Just as they're beginning to learn how to live in their new reality, another riptide pulls them further into the deep end when she finds out she's pregnant with Liam's baby.

Notes: Because I’ve received some comments saying that this fic is “inscestuous” EVEN THOUGH I CLEARLY SAID IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THIS IDEA TO HIT THE BACK BUTTON, I feel like I have to repeat myself and make it louder and clearer for the people in the back: If you're not comfortable with Emma and Killian’s relationship after she is with Liam, or if the idea of Emma being with both brothers at different times makes you squick or is cringy to you, THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU AND YOU ARE NOT INVITED TO READ SO HIT THE BACK BUTTON RIGHT NOW. I repeat, if the storyline makes you squick or is cringy to you, THIS FIC IS NOT FOR YOU AND YOU ARE NOT INVITED TO READ SO HIT THE BACK BUTTON RIGHT NOW! For everyone else, please enjoy!

Thank you @ultraluckycatnd for looking it over!

This story was inspired by Baby Mine by Kennedy Fox, and I loved the book so much and thought it was very much underrated. I’ve wanted to write a fic like this for a long time now because it’s one of my favorite tropes, but after I read that book, I just had to write my own take. Also, I made this post about a Baby Yodarita drink last year when it was trending and since the beginning of this story starts one year prior, 2019 and since Killian is a bartender, it was a perfect way to include the prompt.

The title comes from the lyrics of the song, Lay By Me by Ruben. The particular line goes like this:

"I hope you know through the rising tide That I'll be here and you can lay by my side"

If you've never heard it, I recommend giving it a listen. It's an amazing song and very fitting for this story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VFJbLzEtoZw

P.S. In case you're unable to read the shoulder tattoo in the picture above and are wondering what it says—

"There is no happiness without tears

No life without death

And no true love without heartbreak"

Rated: Explicit for smut (including sexual fantasies, masturbation, implied and detailed sex, etc.) and language (lots of F-bombs).

Also available on: AO3 FF.N

One Week Later…

“I’m so sorry I'm late,” Ruby apologizes profusely as she scurries across the bar and rounds the counter. “Please don't fire me,” she pleads, her words full of panic. “I promise it won't happen again.”

Killian arches a brow, thoroughly amused as he watches her haul ass. Is Ruby Red actually worried about losing her job?

Well, this is a first.

Liam looks up from the paperwork in his hands and actually smiles as he waves off her words. “Don’t worry about it, Rubes.” As he turns around and casually heads into his office... he’s fucking whistling.

What the hell?

Killian and Ruby exchange bewildered looks.

This isn't the only time Liam has left them perplexed lately. He's been easy on his staff all week.

The question is, what the fuck changed?

There can only be one explanation—Liam met someone. He knows this because Liam was like this when he met his last girlfriend. Very lenient and cheerful and whistling all the time. But last time, he told Killian about her. So why hasn’t he said anything this time?

“I think your brother is broken,” Ruby remarks.

Killian chuckles and tosses the bar cloth over his shoulder. “Or pussy whipped.”

Ruby furrows her brows. “I thought you said him not getting laid wasn’t the issue?”

Killian shakes his head. “No, him not getting laid is why he’s in such a good mood.”

Ruby’s even more perplexed, not understanding how being sex-deprived could possibly put Liam in a good mood. “Huh?”

Killian smirks. “He met some lass, and she hasn’t put out yet. Which, being the hopeless romantic Liam is, he’s fine with, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hoping to get some.”

Ruby rolls her eyes and walks away to begin her shift. “Why are men so fucking complicated?”

He laughs at her words and the thought of Liam being so nice this entire week over some lass he’s smitten with. Killan’s happy for Liam, but to be honest, his brother's happiness makes him kind of bummed. Because it's reminding him of how unhappy he is. He’s been unhappy and kind of pissed all week. Ever since last Friday, when that angel never came back.

He was so enchanted by her.

He keeps asking himself why she never returned to him. He’d thought they’d had a connection, he’d thought they’d shared a moment. He’d thought she’d felt the same attraction for him he’d felt for her. Was she just leading him on? Or did she find some other bloke who gave her more attention than he could that night?

He wishes he knew.

Killian suffers through another evening without seeing Emma enter the bar. He keeps eyeing the door, keeps waiting for her to appear and approach him to explain herself, to supply him with some sort of explanation. But she never shows.

The next night is no different. Same agony, different day. But this time, his brother isn't here to poke fun at and distract him from the blonde bombshell weighing on his mind.

The dim lamp light cascades over the living room when Killian trudges through the door after three a.m. Tossing his keys on an end table, he chucks off his jacket and looks down, seeing Liam's boots laying haphazardly on the floor by the door. Which is odd because he's always yelling at Killian for leaving his shoes on the floor instead of storing them in the closet.

Killian shakes off the thought and throws his jacket over a chair before heading to the bathroom. He always needs time to wind down after his shift, but tonight, he just wants to sleep and hopefully forget about Emma for a few goddamn hours. But in order for him to do that, there’s something he must do, first.

He’s been unbearably hard all week from thinking about her. So as soon as he feels the hot water spraying his skin under the shower head, he wraps his hand around his cock and strokes himself, his stiff, wet flesh easily slipping through his fist. He can’t help it, though. Emma had stirred something inside him. Something he’s never felt before.

He knows this is a bad idea, he knows he shouldn’t get this worked up over someone he’s only spoken to once. But at the moment, he’s too hard and his head’s too foggy with lust, his blood running too hot when he remembers how she’d smiled at him, how she’d bitten her bottom lip, remembers her soft curves and how fantastic her ass looked in those tight jeans and how that sexy, pink lace had clung to her breasts. He groans, needing so desperately to ease the tension before he goes completely mad.

Pressing his free hand against the shower wall as the hot stream cascades down his back, he pumps himself harder and faster, grunting as he imagines her pretty lips on his mouth... on his chest... on his stomach... wrapped around his cock. Imagines her humming around him and growing wet from tasting him in her mouth. Imagines what her soft, silky tongue would feel like on him. Imagaines how good her pussy would feel around his cock. Imagines her on top of him, naked and writhing, her skin shimmering in the moonlight as she rode his dick.

He can almost hear her moans and short pants in his ear as he imagines taking her breasts in his hands, squeezing firmly while he fucked her good and hard until she was screaming out his name, her walls squeezing him tight as she came all over his cock.

His body goes rigid, a rough, drawn-out groan rippling through his throat as Emma's name tumbles from his lips. Seconds later, his hand and stomach are a hot, sticky mess as his hand stills around his pulsing length. His heart is pounding and his breath is ragged as he watches the aftermath of what he’d done disappear into the drain.

After he washes the night away from his body (and feels the urge to touch himself again when he lathers his balls and softened cock with soap) he rinses off and steps out of the shower without giving in to more temptation. He dries off with a towel, pulls on a pair of boxers and heads to bed, feeling no shame for what he'd done in the shower. For jerking off to visions of Emma, who’s almost a complete stranger to him. He knows he should feel some kind of guilt or remorse, but right now he can’t find it within himself to feel sorry. He needed that.

And maybe now, he’ll be able to stop thinking about her long enough to get some shut-eye.

But it doesn’t bloody work.

He tosses and turns, still unable to rid her from his mind, and he’s not even sure why. Well, actually he is. She was gorgeous and sexy and playful, and he’d wanted to get to know her. He’d wanted to know everything about her. But apparently, she hadn’t wanted the same from him.

He’d waited over an hour for her at the bar the night he met her, and would've waited longer if not for Tina approaching him and chatting his ears off. He'd wanted to either ignore her or tell her he wasn't interested, but he didn't want to be a jackass. And when Emma never showed, he thought about taking Tina up on her offer and bringing her home in an attempt to forget about Emma. To forget about her smile or her eyes or the memorizing light surrounding her or the way she winked at him as she walked away from the bar.

But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to Tina to be with her while thinking of another woman. He may be a dashing rapscallion, but he's still a gentleman.

He’d seen Emma with Mary Margaret and Ruby, and he was half tempted to cash in a favor from Ruby and have her obtain Emma's number, and maybe he should've. But Emma obviously made her choice and he's afraid she would be creeped out by his advances. So he never did.

Just as Killian is drifting off to sleep, something yanks him awake, but it's not thoughts of her. Rather it's…

Thump.

Moaning.

Thump.

Cursing.

Thump.

Grunting.

Thump.

What the actual fuck?

Liam knew Killian had a late shift tonight and yet he decided this was the night to get some action from the mysterious woman he's been seeing?

Killian even asked Liam about her, but he completely denied it.

“Not seeing anyone, my arse,” Killian grumbles, but even though the walls are paper-thin, he's pretty sure he can't be heard over the sounds.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!”

Bloody hell.

The walls are so thin, he can hear every pant, every moan, he can hear it every goddamn time the headboard slams against the wall.

“Fuck!”

Why now? Why wait until four in the fucking morning? Or have they been at it all night?

Killian groans and grabs his headphones from his nightstand. He slips them on and plays some music, turning up the volume. He closes his eyes, trying to erase everything from his mind, but he can actually feel the wall rattling and he’s surprised the bed doesn’t come crashing through the drywall.

He curses and grabs the pillow next to him, covering his face with it. He wants to pound on the wall and tell them to shut the fuck up, but he knows he deserves it. He's done the same thing, he's brought a lass to his bed while Liam was in his room, forced to listen to every sound.

Besides, part of him wants to high-five Liam for pleasuring this woman so well and at such a late hour. He wonders how many hours they've been at it.

He's kind of proud of Liam, actually. He just hopes this one doesn't cheat on Liam like the last girlfriend did.

“Bloody… fucking... hell!” Liam groans loudly.

With one final hard thud, the noises cease.

Finally.

Killian removes the pillow from his face and is soon able to get some sleep, but only for a few hours before he's awake again.

Unable to fall back asleep, he wipes the sleep from his eyes and drags himself out of bed.

Coffee.

He's not sure if the smell wafting through the apartment is due to lack of sleep or if Liam got up and made a pot. Which would surprise him, considering all the amorous activities he engaged in last night. Killian would think he’d be exhausted after that.

As he nears the kitchen, he can hear pots and pans clanking around, so he knows he's not imagining the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the flat.

When he enters the kitchen, his eyes are immediately drawn to the coffee pot on the bar counter, and it almost appears to be glowing. “Thanks for making coffee,” he says appreciatively, opening the cupboard door to grab a mug. Though he's not sure he should be very appreciative, considering Liam's to blame for Killian's lack of sleep.

He and the little vixen he had in his bed last night.

“I barely got four hours of sleep, thanks to all the banging and screaming coming from your—” His words are frozen in midair when he turns around and sees the nearly bare ass sticking out from the refrigerator door.

That's definitely not Liam.

His girlfriend, rather.

And she’s dressed in nothing but a pair of pink laced panties and one of Liam’s oversized dress shirts.

Killian smirks and fills his cup before turning around and leaning against the counter, admiring the view while he sips his coffee. There's a half-naked blonde pillaging his refrigerator, but right now he couldn't give a fuck.

He’s too busy appreciating the view, because bloody hell, she has a dee-lectable ass.

Liam did good.

It’s a good thing she’s already been claimed by his brother because otherwise, she’d be in big trouble. Or, rather, not a good thing. It’s quite a shame, actually.

“What was that, babe?” The sweetest voice pulls Killian from his thoughts as she rises, carrying eggs and milk in her hands. She sets the items on the counter next to the refrigerator and turns around.

He lifts his gaze from her pretty ass, and when his eyes meet hers... his jaw drops to the fucking floor, his face paling. He almost drops his coffee mug.

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

He has to blink a few times to make sure it’s actually her. But maybe, just maybe, he’s still sleeping, and this is all just a terrible dream.

“Killian?”

Nope. He’s wide awake.

And the woman standing in his kitchen, wearing nothing but panties and a shirt that falls just past her butt is real. And just like that, Killian’s hopes of being with this woman shatter into a million pieces.

“Emma?”

There’s a shocked expression plastered on her face, but he doubts she’s more surprised than he is right now. He had never suspected the woman making all those noises in his brother’s room to possibly be the same woman he met in the bar last week. The same woman who’s been on the forefront of his mind ever since. The same woman he’d jerked off to thoughts of only a few hours ago.

“You two know each other?” Liam’s voice sounds through the kitchen when he enters and glances between them, seeing the recognition flickering in their eyes. He walks across the kitchen and pulls a half-naked Emma into his arms, pressing her body against his. He hadn’t even bothered to throw on any clothes either and is only in his boxers.

“We met at the bar last week,” Emma answers, because apparently Killian lost his ability to speak. His brain is too occupied with the fact that Liam and Emma are together, their hands all over each other as she’s semi-straddling his thigh.

Well, fuck.

He just doesn't understand how this happened. How had his charm not worked on Emma like it had worked on so many women before her? And he was actually genuine with her. He wasn’t charming her just so he could get into her pants. He actually wanted to get to know her. Besides, even if he ended up taking her back to his flat, he had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to have just one night with her.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, the same night you and I met. He made me a Baby Yodarita.”

“A Baby Yodarita?” Liam parrots, amusement obvious in his tone.

“Yeah, I made it up based on Baby Yoda, but Killian was happy to accept the challenge.”

Liam chuckles and takes her chin in his hand, bringing her lips to his. “Of course he did. He’ll do anything for tips.”

Killian balls his hand into a fist. He didn’t make her that special drink to get a tip from her. He didn’t even charge her for the damn drink.

He wants to strangle his brother for saying that and for having his paws all over Emma, but he’s still trying to process what she’d said about meeting him the same night she met Liam. When had she met him? They weren’t there at the same time, so how did they meet? It must have been outside the bar.

Wait a bloody minute.

Killian’s eyes widen when something occurs to him. Was Liam the reason Emma never came back to him that night?

Emma’s eyes dart between them when something occurs to her too. “So, this is your brother?” she asks Liam. “You said you lived with him.”

“Aye. And I’m sorry if he startled you. I thought he’d still be sleeping.”

“It’s fine,” she assures, waving off his apology.

Wait a damn minute. Liam’s sorry she was startled? Killian was the one kept up by all the noises coming from Liam’s room.

“And what, I don’t get an apology for being kept awake by all the noises? You do realize I can hear everything through the paper-thin walls, right?”

Liam and Emma exchange blushing smiles, but neither of them seems apologetic. “Sorry, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other last night,” Liam comments, brushing his nose against hers. She smirks, displaying her total agreement as she caresses his cheek.

Killian staves off a groan of disapproval. “I gathered that,” he says casually, trying not to sound completely gutted.

“So you two must’ve met while I went on that wild goose chase David sent me on,” Liam guesses, thankfully changing the subject.

“Wild goose chase?” Killian inquires, furrowing his brows in confusion.

“Aye, it’s a funny story, actually.” Liam chuckles, his eyes glued to Emma as she smiles at him. He finally tears his gaze from her to look at Killian as he wraps his big hands around her little waist. “So before I left to run those errands I told you about, I received a text from David asking me to look after his little sister who was bar-hopping with his wife. So I get there and she’s nowhere to be found. Well, when I returned, I ran into this stunning angel just outside the bar,” he says, squeezing her hip and pulling her closer. “Well, I quickly find out, she’s David’s sister.”

“Oh,” Killian utters, still shocked by this entire set of circumstances. It made him forget little details, like the fact that Mary Margaret is her sister-in-law and therefore David is her brother.

“Anyway, she missed her Uber, and after we started talking, I offered her a ride home,” he looks at her again, with googly eyes and a blushing smile as she gazes at him with the same love-struck expression on her face, “and the rest was history.”

“Wait, so that’s why you left the bar that night? To spy on Emma?” Killian glances at her, a little pissed she’d put up with Liam stalking her. “And you weren’t pissed at him for that?”

“A little, at first,” she admits shyly, “but more so at my brother for asking him to spy on me in the first place. Besides, look at this face,” she says, cupping Liam’s chin in her hand as she smiles at him. “How could I possibly be mad at a face like this?” He grins and leans in, capturing her lips with his.

Killian wants to ask her exactly when she left the bar, but he’s afraid of what the answer would be. He stares at Liam, wondering why he never mentioned her. “So, why did you tell me you weren’t seeing anyone when I asked you about it?” Okay, and part of him is hoping to get him in trouble with her.

But instead of looking pissed, guilt flashes in her eyes. Like she had something to do with it.

Liam eyes his brother apologetically. “We didn’t want to tell anyone about us yet. David’s my good mate and we don’t know exactly how he’ll take the news when he finds out about us. He’s very protective of Emma, if you couldn’t already tell. So we haven’t told anyone.”

Killian scoffs. “Since when haven’t you been able to tell me anything without worrying I wouldn’t keep your secret?”

“I know, I know. I should’ve just told you. I shouldn’t have lied.” He gazes at Emma again, a little more serious now as he caresses her cheek. “But I could tell right away Emma was something special, and I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my chance to be with her.” Emma blushes and smiles as he rests his forehead against hers. “ Very special,” he emphasizes, brushing his thumb over her button lip.

She presses a palm against his chest. “I could tell you were, too,” she says sweetly, as though they’re having an intimate conversation. As though Killian’s not even in the room, inwardly dying inside. If only Liam knew what this was doing to his brother.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” Killian assures them, trying to disguise how unnerved he is that she picked Liam over him.

Liam pulls his head back suddenly, as though he just realized something. “Wait, you mean to tell me you saw Killian first that night?” he asks her.

“Yeah… why?” she asks dubiously.

A slow smile crawls over his lips as he looks at Killian. “Because, I think this is the first time someone has actually seen my little brother first and ended up with me, instead of the other way around.”

Emma cocks a brow, intrigued by this. “Really?”

Killian doesn’t even bother to correct Liam for calling him little brother. He’s too busy seeing red.

“Aye. Most women prefer the bad boy type over the nice guy,” he says with a smile. “But not you. If I didn't know you were a keeper then, I sure as hell do now.” He presses the pad of his thumb against her chin and kisses her forehead.

Killian thinks he’s going to be sick as he watches them.

This is all wrong.

It was supposed to be him taking Emma home. It was supposed to be him bringing her pleasure over and over again until both of them were sweaty and exhausted and yet still couldn't keep their hands off each other. It was supposed to be him standing in the kitchen, wrapping his arms around her half-naked body and kissing her shamelessly as his brother watched.

It wasn’t supposed to be the other way around.

Killian can’t get over the irony of it all. The irony of him jerking off and fantasizing about the same goddamn woman Liam was having sex with right down the hall.

It makes him wonder how many times Liam's been in this exact position. How many times had he laid his eyes on a lass, only to come home and find her in his brother’s arms? How many times had Liam touched himself with thoughts of a woman in his head before finding out she was messing around with his brother?

He’s not sure; all he knows is karma's a bitch.

“I should probably start breakfast before the milk and eggs get spoiled,” Emma says when she notices the items are still on the counter.

“I told you I would make breakfast,” Liam says as she saunters over to crack open the egg carton.

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “You already gave me a hot breakfast in bed.”

Liam quirks a brow. “When would I have done that? You were in my arms until you got up to use the bathroom.”

Killian takes a sip of his coffee, grimacing as he tries to block out their conversation. They’ve only been together for a week and already act like a fucking married couple.

“True, but before that, you gave me some delicious sausage.”

Killian chokes on his coffee and spits it out. Do they not realize he’s still in the room?”

“What the bloody hell, Killian?” Liam upbraids as he inspects Emma to make sure none of the coffee spilled on her.

But Killian only got it on himself. He curtly slams the coffee mug on the counter and walks across the kitchen with clenched teeth, ripping a piece of paper towel from the roll to wipe off the coffee he spit out.

“Sorry,” Emma says after realizing she probably shouldn’t have made the sausage remark with Liam’s brother in the room.

You think?

“Why are you sorry? I’m not,” Liam murmurs against her ear and grabs her hips from behind as she tries to crack some eggs into a bowl. “You can taste my sausage anytime.”

She looks over at him and smirks. “Hmmm, I like the idea of that. But right now, it’s my turn to make you breakfast.”

Liam growls and spins her around, picking her up like she weighs nothing, and placing her on the counter. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, gently biting her there, his words muffled against her skin as his hands slide up her thighs and under the hem of the shirt she’s wearing. “I can think of something else I’d rather eat.”

That’s it.

Killian’s going to vomit. He tosses the paper towel into the trash and storms out of the kitchen, his face probably green from how ill he’s feeling right now.

How the bloody hell did this happen?

“Killian.”

The sound of his name coming from her lips causes his jaw to clench. She and Liam seemed so lovesick, Killian’s surprised they were able to tear themselves away from each other for two bloody seconds.

When he spins around to face her, Emma’s holding his mug in her hands, her eyes flickering with apology. “You forgot this,” she says, offering it to him.

“Thanks but I can’t stomach anything at the moment,” he grumbles, sounding angrier than he had intended.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, probably so Liam can't hear her. “I didn’t know he was your brother.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like you and I were ever together,” he says bitterly as his eyes drop to the mug she’s holding. “On second thought, I’ll take that.” He grabs the coffee from Emma’s hands and gulps it down, since it’s no longer hot. Emma doesn’t speak as she stares at him, probably unsure of what to say.

Killian lowers the mug and gives her a hard look before turning around and heading to the bathroom, deciding he needs another shower. After what he’d done in the shower while thinking of Emma and then after what he’d witnessed and heard in the kitchen, he feels filthy all over, almost as if he’s covered in slimy worms. He has to scrub himself down since he can’t scrub away the images that will now be permanently burned in his brain.

The images of Liam and the girl Killian wants but knows he can never have.

Fuck… my… life.

Tagging people who have shown interest. Let me know if you would like to be added or if I missed you. @itsfabianadocarmo @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @onceuponaprincessworld @viajandosinalas @teamhook @captainswan-shipper88 @jamif @katielovesstarcrossedlovers @uhthreeyuh @lfh1226-linda @babyyouremyqueen @sthonour @julesep3026 @fairytalewhispersinmyheart @andiirivera @wefoundloveunderthelight @wickedsw4n @eleveneitherway @eherron14 @ouatpost @transparentclodsludgeweasel

#cs ff #captain swan #jewelled swan #my fic #through the rising tide

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excuseme-youpretty · 4 years ago

Text

BTS Reaction ~ Caught by their child

Anonymous asked:

Hello, can I please request how all the members react to your child walking in in you when your making out or being intimate.🥰

All credits for the gifs go to the original owners/makers.

Genre: Fluff / Crack. Slight smut.

Rating: M

Word Count: 575 - 980

Warnings: Heavy allusions to sex but nothing too graphic!

Kim Seokjin

It is no secret that Seokjin always prefers to perform his culinary magic underneath the rhythmic guidance of whatever cheesy pop song happens to illuminate his beloved sticker-slathered radio. Tonight's offering? Britney Spears.

As you make your approach from behind, you can hear your husband synchronize the sharp click of his knife tearing through colorful fresh vegetables with the admission that oops, Britney has indeed done it once again, and can't help but to chuckle.

Your arms enslave his midsection as you press your lips into the smooth strip of velvet skin at the nape of his neck. His hands hesitate for a minute only; just long enough for an enthralled grin to decorate his face.

"Well hello, babe. Fancy seeing you here."

Seokjin is careful to peel away the latex of his gloves before he turns, cradling both of your cheeks within his palms as he pulls you forward. His lips just barely brush across your own.

"And where is our little lovebug right now?"

You sigh contently, thumbing over the solidity of his abdomen through his flour-speckled shirt.

"She's currently captivated by the wonderful adventures of Mickey Mouse's Clubhouse. You know how she gets… she could be watching for hours."

"Hours, you say?" Seokjin smirks, applying just enough pressure on your bottom lip so that he may autograph a signature heart across your flesh with his tongue. "Well, that gives me just enough time to indulge on a craving I've been having…"

Seokjin's palms are exceptionally warm where they slip across the small of your back, thumbs painting intricate semi-circles over the elastic waistband of your cotton shorts before they delve even lower. He palms across your outer thigh with the same delicacy he would afford kneading an enriched dough.

You can't help but to release a small, perfectly clipped exhale of pure bliss.

"Aren't you worried that you will spoil your appetite, Jinnie?"

Seokjin's digits move rapidly. They slot underneath your thighs in order to aid in twisting your body that bit closer, the tip of his nose skimming across your fluttering pulse point.

"On the contrary. I consider this to be an appetiser; an Amuse-bouche if you will."

Seokjin's velour lips weave a haphazard pathway down between your collarbones, clinging to a particular cluster of nerves that he is certain will nudge you toward delirium.

"And I happen to find my wife very amuse-ing."

He lifts your thigh slowly, shifting your leg until it wraps securely around his waist, and begins to lift you up onto the counter-

"Eomma!" Your daughter cries, her voice as syrupy-sweet and innocent as birdsong.

Her little feet pad triumphantly across the kitchen tile, her unicorn slippers squeaking with every fortified step.

"Eomma, you missin' d'best bits!"

Seokjin is swift to back away from you, dropping your leg as though your flesh had transformed to molten lava and seared his palm. His back hits the edge of the sink with a rather comical thud, ironically synchronized with the orchestral stab of The Backstreet Boys announcing - once again - that they are back.

You have been left rather uncoordinated yourself, heat pouring into your stomach with all of the cloying stickiness of a candy-coated toffee apple.

"Sorry, darling. Eomma will be right there, okay? I was just asking Appa if he needed any help with dinner."

Your daughter's eyes are large and round and so similar to her Father's own that it is almost frightening; they contain an abundance of constellations and more knowledge than should be capable of someone her age.

Her bottom lip protrudes in thought, plump and ever so slightly discolored from slurping on grape juice all afternoon. It only takes a minute before she nods, seemingly satisfied with your excuse.

"Okai, Eomma. But huwwy!"

Taking off in a carefree, infantile sprint, with her slippers squawk-squeaking all the way, you are finally left alone with your husband once again.

"Rain check?" You ask once your heartbeat has settled back into a reasonable rhythm.

Seokjin brushes his thumb underneath your jawline, swiping over the small cluster of ginger-hued freckles which kiss your skin. He tips your face skyward, pressing a smattering of kisses back and forth over your satine cheekbones.

"Rain check. No appetisers tonight, babe."

A brief flicker of tanzanite temptation illuminates your husband's vision, one of his hands slipping down to rest almost tauntingly around your throat.

"I'll just have to have you for dessert instead."

Min Yoongi

Min Yoongi has always considered himself to be a being with exceptional hearing. He can detect even the smallest alteration in pitch, can recognise when an arrangement requires more volume or bass or vocal power, and can easily complete a portfolio of compositions in a single afternoon.

And yet, his outstanding hearing is so acute that he almost misses the unmistakable sound of his studio's pass code being punched in.

"Yoongi?" You breathe quietly, treading lightly lest you shatter the creative bubble that your husband is famous for cocooning himself within.

Yoongi pivots slowly in his chair, swivelling around until he can face you fully. Light touches his eyes with the intensity of several beautifully bobbing fireflies.

"What're you doing here, sweetheart?" He chirrups, sparing a brief glance toward his wristwatch. "I thought the kids and I were going to pick you up from work today?"

Yoongi's arms open out toward you, encouraging you to burrow into his lap without much need for communication.

You drape over his thighs as though you were pouring yourself into the very mould of your husband, situating yourself into all of the nooks and crannies you have claimed ownership over since the dawn of your relationship.

"Well, I finished early." You place an abundance of soft, featherweight kisses along the underside of Yoongi's razor-sharp jawline; savouring the fragrant tang of cologne which glistens like diamonds upon his skin. "Which means we just so happen to have some alone time before the twins get dropped off. Just think of the possibilities~"

No more than a moment after your syllables have been fully formulated does Yoongi wrap his opalescent fingertips around the nape of your neck and pull you close.

He kisses you deeply, presses the very tips of his cuspids into your bottom lip and lalves over the succulent indents with the gloss of his tongue until he can feel you shudder against him.

Your hands find their way into his hair with very little navigation. Sighing blissfully, you rake your nails over his scalp as though you were illustrating your initials in vibrant saffron sands; leaving your mark in the form of several exhilarated goosebumps.

"I love you." You whine, tipping your head back just far enough to provide enough room for Yoongi to suck several small candy wrappers into your throat.

"You too, sweetheart."

Yoongi's palms bracket over the swell of your jeans, each digit slipping one by one into the stitching of your back pockets so that he can grab your fleshy behind by the fistful.

He guides you forward, setting a slow but deliberate pace as you work in tandem with each other to feel-

This time, there is no mistaking the distinct sound of Yoongi's pass code being punched in.

You only just manage to pry yourself from your husband's lap by the time that his studio door bursts open.

You hear your twins before you see them; a cornucopia of fluorescent overalls and mismatched trainers and a seemingly unfathomable energy which completely belies their own paternity.

"Eomma!" Your son cries, the latter syllable smothered by the sensation of him excitedly clinging to your calf. "You're here!"

"Yes baby, Eomma is here!"

Beside you, your daughter makes quick work of climbing all over Yoongi's torso. Her hyperactive cackles seem to reverberate throughout the studio walls as she runs her chubby hands all over Yoongi's silver-toned hair; worsening the mess your own digits had made not five minutes before.

"Appa is a lion! Raaaawr! Look Unki NamNam!"

Lifting your son into your arms, you spare a glance over to the man in question and internally curse Namjoon's uncanny ability to destroy even a moment of impromptu passion.

"Sorry I'm early." Namjoon sighs, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck.

He can't seem to meet your eye.

But as you glance over toward Yoongi, making sure to nod artificially every so often as though to show feigned interest in the tall tales that your twins are spinning, you are met with a pair of dark, bottomless irises which sparkle, bubble and pop with the promise of what's to come as soon as you are protected by the coverage of twilight.

Yoongi definitely doesn't need exceptional hearing to know that your heart is absolutely beating out of your chest.

Jung Hoseok

On days like these it is often hard to determine what has your head spinning faster; the sensation of Hoseok twirling you under his arm or the reverberation of music pulsing like gunpowder throughout your veins.

Realistically, you should have known that your dance rehearsal was in jeopardy the second that Hobi's phone had diverted away from the relay of his own voice and opted instead to play Sistar's Touch My Body; your husband's not-so-hidden vice.

After grinning wildly and gyrating his body back and forth to the swish-swish dance of the song, he had pulled you in close in order to innocently mouth the lyrics against your cheek.

Fortunately, you had always been a stickler for following the rules.

And touching Hobi's body has always been your favourite pastime activity.

Your fingertips had found purchase upon the ridge of his collarbones, thumbs falling into the crease of his deliciously sweaty skin before shifting lower. Your lips had painted his Adam's apple with precision, tasting the sherbet of his aftershave and the natural essence of Hoseok.

Now your lips are plump and swollen from the feverish trap of his uncoordinated kisses.

He has you pinned up against one of the mirrored walls by his pelvis, the tip of his tongue writing soulful soliloquies into your skin until you glow with poorly contained adoration.

"Mm, Hobi. Calm down~" You sigh, arching up into the pressure of Hoseok's teeth as they paint faint crescent-shaped halos in the flesh of your earlobe.

Hoseok shifts his fingertips around your wrists, effectively binding them in a ribbon of calluses and articulation as he traps them up over your head.

"I can't help it, honey. You know what you do to me, don't you?"

"I'd have a guess, but I'd say that the evidence is pretty clear."

Certainly, with how Hoseok presses against you, he leaves very little to the imagination.

"A guess? Well, Maybe I'm not making myself clear enough, then…"

Using his unpreoccupied hand, Hoseok dips the faintest whisper of his fingertips into his mouth in order to get them appropriately wet. He then kicks your ankles apart, situating his thigh in place between your quivering knees.

It does not take a genius to recognize the unbridled gallop of small, toddling feet racing through narrow linoleum hallways. Nor does it require much effort to deduct that those very footsteps and the loud, high-spirited giggles which precede them can only belong to your son.

The studio door swings open with all the momentum of a party popper being pulled taut. Only instead of confetti you are rewarded by the sight of your son's beautifully plump rosy cheeks and his gap-toothed grin.

"Appa~!"

Hoseok turns just in time to drop to his knees and scoop your toddler up into his arms, the tone of his voice shifting from leather and velvet into something bubbling and bright.

"There's my little Hapi!" Hobi coos, nuzzling into your son's soft mousy hair. "Did you have a good day with Uncle Kookie?"

"Uh-huh! Appa, you look so silly! You wearing Eomma's lips!"

Hoseok lifts his thumb to swipe it over his bottom lip, gathering the fluorescent remnants of your transferred lipstick which lingers there.

"Yes I am." Hobi teases. "Do you want some? Mwah~"

It takes half a second before your son shrieks in protest, immediately sprinting away from your husband's chaotic influence. Hoseok chases after him with pursed lips, making outrageously exaggerated smacking noises during his pursuit.

Sighing softly, you lean all of your body weight on the mirror behind you and fan your face with your palm in an attempt to cool your rapidly rising body temperature.

"You're blushing awfully hard." Jeongguk acknowledges as he settles in beside you.

"Dance rehearsals. Worked up quite a sweat."

"Oh, I bet. You want me to keep him out a little later next time?"

Your teeth find purchase on the crease of your bottom lip, a residual sting prickling upon your flesh from how intensely you had been kissed mere minutes before. Your pulse continues to fizzle and pop and jump underneath your skin; a firework ready to burst.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

You watch as Hoseok finally catches up to your squealing son. He lifts him effortlessly, pressing kiss after kiss over his rotund cheeks and your heart absolutely sings. How did you get so lucky?

And yet, as Hobi tucks your child carefully underneath his chin, you don't miss the way that his mouth dances around a simple word inundated with promise.

'Later.'

You can't wait to see what 'choreography' piece Hoseok will teach you next.

Kim Namjoon

There is something to be said about the sweetness of Namjoon's kisses during nightfall, when the moon is pitched high over Seoul's skyline and there is little need for urgency.

Without the influence of convoluted phone calls or frequented business meetings, it is almost as though your husband has been impassioned anew.

His kisses always start off deceptively slow, the petal pink tip of his tongue wicking across your bottom lip like butter gliding over hot toast. He rests his palms against your crimson-hued cheeks, guiding you that bit closer to his body as your bedsheets rustle down around your hips akin to a tambourine being jostled.

"I love you." Namjoon sighs, rotating his body so that you fall to a collapse against his exposed torso.

Your fingertips splay against his flushed skin as though seeking out purchase, eager to aid in the transition of your rolling hips.

"I love you more."

Burning with vibrant adoration, you can feel your stomach positively froth with frenzied butterflies. Your lips lather a steady stream of kisses down between Namjoon's pectoral muscles, pausing just millimeters below his ribcage where you sink your teeth ever so gently into his skin, determined to leave a mark which will last for days to come.

"And now I'm going to prove just how much I-"

The sound of your daughter's shrill, waterlogged sobs as they carry through from her nursery and into your bedroom is stark and corrosive; a bolt of lightning which strikes through your sternum with the intensity of blunt nails on a chalkboard.

As she tumbles into your bedroom, raven hair plastered to her cheeks by way of her seemingly limitless tears, and her tiny hands balled into fists where they cling to her beloved Koya plushie, you are quick to spring from your bed in order to gather her up into your arms.

"Oh sweetheart! What's wrong?"

Burying her reddened nose into your neck, your daughter splutters through her words.

"D'eres a monsta under m'bed! He's big n'mean and.. and scawy!!"

"A monster, huh?"

After some careful readjustments, Namjoon climbs out of bed to join your side. He runs his hands affectionately over your daughter's swollen cheeks, clearing the hair away from her eyes.

"Well, I'd like to have words with this so-called Monster. Let him know that he's messing with The Rap Monster and his beautiful little Princess. We'll see how mean and scary he is then!"

You each take one of your daughter's petite hands, being mindful of Koya’s unshakable presence, and inflate your chests into plates of pseudo armor as you lead her back into her nursery.

It takes less than a minute for Namjoon to scare away the fictional threat, adding just an ounce of parental gravel to his words for extra emphasis.

And it takes even less time for your adorable puffy-eyed princess to convince you to stay in bed with her until she feels safe once again.

With both you and Namjoon planted firmly on either side of your toddler's tiny frame, and the sensation of your fingers combing gently through the small tufts of her hair, she finds sleep easily.

"So…" You whisper, just loud enough for Namjoon to hear over your daughter's infantile snores. "You're a monster, are you?"

Despite the impenetrable darkness of your daughter's room, broken up only by the small heart-shaped night light which twinkles beside her bed, you can clearly see your husband's fiendish smirk.

"Just wait - I'll show you later."

Park Jimin

Two years.

You have been married to Park Jimin for two whole years.

And in that time you have seen him at his best, with a rhinestone microphone held in place between his dainty fingers and a light sheen of sweat glittering against his brow. You have also seen him at his worst, when thick black bags sit underneath his sunken eyes and sleep is a distant memory.

You know your husband inside and out; his flaws (or lack thereof) and his many merits.

Which is why you should have known that his suggestion of an impromptu movie night was nothing more than a ruse to have you exactly where he wanted you; draped across his lap on the couch and purring every time his lips brush against a weak spot on your neck.

"Shh, darling. Not so loud." Jimin teases, already moving to run the tip of his tongue along the underside of your jaw.

Your fingernails dig into Jimin's biceps from how tightly you grasp at him, leaving small moon-shaped welts in your wake which somehow pale in comparison to the roses he is currently embossing into your skin.

"You're a cruel man, Park Jimin."

"So I've been told. C'mere."

Maneuvering his hands underneath the blanket which he had draped over your shoulders in order to preserve your modesty, Jimin clasps at your hips and pulls you that bit closer to him.

"You're so beautiful." He sighs, swiping his thumb over your bejewelled lips.

For a moment he simply stares at you, admiring the cinnamon flush of your cheeks and the way in which you seem to flutter with every poorly managed breath; his influence evident.

Unwilling to lose this unspoken game you are playing, you up the ante by bearing your hips down against Jimin's own and push your fingertips through his bubblegum pink locks until he hums with bliss.

"Now who's the cruel one, darling?"

Before you can answer, the sound of your son's hiccuping whimpers resonates from inside his nearby bedroom.

"Appa! Eomma!"

Throwing the blanket off your shoulders, you are quick to rise from Jimin's lap, not missing the urgent way in which he grabs the fleece in question and places it over the space you had once occupied.

Your son darts into the room with a speed which belies his small stature, falling into your arms with his bottom lip quivering and his paw print pyjamas torn at the knee.

"Hey, easy! What happened?"

Your son rubs furiously at his damp eyes, making small but urgent grabby-hands toward his Father. Jimin reaches over to rub affectionately at tiny knuckles.

"Twipped. Was thirsty and twipped!"

He points adamantly at the small red welt which glows against the pale skin of his knee, his entire body shaking with barely contained sobs.

"Aw, you poor thing." Jimin consoles, his own lower lip protruding in a manner which reflects your toddler's pout exactly. "Eomma, our little Tiny got himself a booboo."

"So I see. You definitely have your Father's clumsiness trait, hm?"

Careful to avoid hurting him, you place a gentle kiss against the affected area.

"There we go. Good as new. Now, let's go get you a bandaid, okay?"

"Iwonman?"

"Of course! An Ironman bandaid for my little superhero."

As you lift your son with the intent of carrying him into the bathroom to patch up his battle scar, he makes a small whining noise and reaches for Jimin once again.

"Appa? You come too?"

You watch as your husband's face somehow darkens in hue. His ears burn scarlet-hot, beads of sweat stippled like pearls across his clavicle. He glances between you, your son, and the blanket currently concealing his hips.

"Uhh-"

"Appa will join us in a minute, baby. He's just gonna clean up first. Right, Appa?"

Jimin nods enthusiastically. "Right! I'll be there in a minute, Tiny. Promise."

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, your son turns to rub his cheek into your chest, already changing the subject to an unusual dream he had earlier in the evening.

Briefly, you can see the relief flash in Jimin's eyes as he collapses back onto the couch. He bites his bottom lip, mouthing a brief word of thanks toward you.

You blow him a kiss in response, not missing the way that Jimin pushes his fingers back through his hair to fix the mess you had made. His eyes briefly sparkle with something oh so familiar; something salacious.

After two years, you can be certain that you know your husband well enough to guarantee that your little game of cat and mouse is far from over.

Kim Taehyung

When Taehyung loses himself to his illustrations he is always completely silent.

His lips form a pursed rosette of pure concentration, brows furrowed low across his forehead, and his pinkie finger develops a small but temporary tick every time he pauses to load his paintbrush with a new pigment.

He is so silent, in fact, that the only sound you can hear on your approach toward his office is that of novelty ice cubes clinking back and forth within the glass of freshly poured lemonade you prepared for him.

Knocking politely on the door to alert him to your presence, you can only watch in awe as Taehyung dabs a bead of sweat from his brow, his fingertips stained shades of periwinkle and amaranth.

He stipples another dollop of paint onto his canvas, brushing back and forth in broad strokes in order to heighten the saturation of a particular petal cluster.

"Hey, you." You hum contentedly, placing the glass of lemonade down on Taehyung's desk. "I thought you could use a drink."

"Thank you, Jagiya. That's very kind of you."

Placing his paintbrush down into a pot of discolored water to soak, Taehyung turns in his chair to face you. He reaches his arms up overhead and stretches until his shoulders give a rather satisfying pop and then reaches out toward you, guiding you into his lap.

His large palms stroke along the individual notches of your spine, touching you with the same care he would afford a piece of fine, antique china. The tip of his nose nestles against yours for a moment, wading back and forth before he uses the cool compress of his thumb to elevate your chin.

"Look at you. So beautiful; my muse."

Your husband's words flutter about inside your abdomen like dispersed dandelion seeds; soft and aerated and tickling you in all the right ways.

He kisses you softly, deeply, the tip of his tongue tracing whimsical patterns across every dip and divot of your lower lip as though he has found his new favourite canvas; a magnum opus all wrapped up in a beautiful wife-shaped bow.

You can feel every single brush and stroke of his tongue as he kisses you, somehow both cool and hot at the same time, until you are absolutely incandescent with hue and color.

Taehyung shifts until you are comfortably straddling both of his hips. His calloused thumbs knead at the nape of your neck until goosebumps sprinkle like powdered sugar upon your skin.

With your husband's outrageously long fingertips combing through your hair, you find yourself clasping onto the crisp collar of his shirt simply to keep yourself afloat.

You trace the blunt curvature of your nail against his pulse point, doodling a small asymmetric heart on his gilded skin which quickly dissipates when his blood begins to flow southward.

"You taste so sweet, Jagi." Taehyung remarks once your mouths finally separate, savouring the numb tingling sensation which busies his tongue.

"Not as sweet as you do, Taehyungie."

You catch your teeth against your husband's earlobe, ever so carefully guiding the steel loop of his piercing into your mouth. Taehyung's torso seems to reverberate when he mewls, his every breath pitched by anticipation as you guide your hands lower and lower and-

Yeontan darts into Taehyung's office with such gleeful acceleration that you almost leap out of your skin.

He yips merrily, a petite ball of downy-soft fur flanked by your shrieking daughter and her tiny outstretched fingertips.

"TanTan!" She squeals, chasing Yeontan with reckless abandon.

Sighing softly, you place a small apologetic kiss to Taehyung’s nose and climb to your feet once more.

"Are you having fun, sweetheart?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Taehyung reach for the lemonade glass. He takes a long, dehydrated drink.

"Uh-huh!"

Your daughter's arms are short and chubby where they wrap around Yeontan's fluffy brown body. She places a comically loud kiss to the top of his head and then bursts into a fit of bright, energetic giggles.

"Eomma!" She wheezes, pointing a finger up at you. "Yous all colow!"

You bring a hand up to your face, frowning when you feel the crackled texture of rapidly drying paint swept over your cheeks and into the roots of your hair; Taehyung's evident touch tinting your skin turquoise.

"Ah, yeah. Eomma was just helping Appa to paint."

"Ooh! Can y'paiwnt me too, Appa?"

You blush sheepishly, watching the way that Taehyung instantly softens when your daughter regards him with a vibrant rosewater smile and hopeful eyes so similar to his own.

"Of course, Cherub. Come here."

Taehyung lifts her up into his arms, helping her get comfortably situated on the ball of his knee. He grabs for one of his many paintbrushes, drying the excess moisture on a paper towel before he dips it onto a dollop of glowing tangerine paint.

He turns toward her, his tongue protruding ever so slightly out of the corner of his lips as he once again falls victim to his own concentration.

He starts by painting an almost perfect circle against her cheek, chasing it with an abundance of soft squiggly wisps until he has created a summer-bright sun on her skin.

And it works, because she positively burns with delight.

"I suppose I better leave you both to it, hm?" You muse, your voice almost lost to Taehyung's amused giggling as your daughter sings his praises.

You carefully usher Yeontan out of the room, a surprisingly easy task as he trots off in search for a place to nap, and just barely catch the scalding hot sear of your husband's eyes meeting your own.

"You'll finish painting me later, won't you?"

Taehyung rests his chin ever so gently against the top of your daughter's head. His lips twitch with poorly contained mirth.

"You can count on it, Jagiya."

Jeon Jeongguk

The sound of deliciously hot water hammering down on cool tile is loud; a brigade of heavy footsteps echoing throughout an otherwise tranquil room.

And yet, it pales in comparison to the vehement growls Jeongguk emits every single time your fingertips brush over his abdomen.

Your digits move as though you have been hypnotised, the pads of your thumbs following a line of apricot-scented suds as they skim down betwixt Jeongguk's hardened muscles.

"Baby, if you keep touching me like that I swear it's game over."

It never fails to astound you just how talented Jeongguk is at kissing - much like everything else.

His lips crash against your own, sticky and warm and deliciously wet from the torrential downpour of a perfectly-angled shower head. Using the prickle of his teeth, he paves a petite pathway into your mouth. His tongue conducts something of a waltz alongside the succulent slip-slide of your own.

When you finally break for air, your lungs tingling with the poetry of a perfectly executed liplock, you can see starstruck galaxies burning just beyond your damp lashes.

Finally, fighting past the lump which has formed in your throat, you will yourself to simply speak.

"And if you keep kissing me like that, I'm going to be forced to pounce on you."

Jeongguk's playful laughter seems to reverberate throughout his sternum, smothered in part by the sensation of his nose ghosting down your stomach as he slowly folds onto his knees.

"Challenge accepted."

Turning his head into the flush of your thighs, Jeongguk peppers kiss after kiss against your water-warmed skin. He starts at the base of your knee and works his way up, pausing only when he feels the tug of your trembling fingers his hair.

He grins, fiendish and dark, and you see stars far brighter than your wedding band shimmering in contrast to his inky-black hair.

"Jeongguk, I-"

"Nnnnyeeeoowww~!"

The noise of your son's small, sputtering lips opening and closing as he makes loud, enigmatic sound effects is unmistakable.

Through the percussion of water droplets you can hear plastic feet pit-patting against the bathroom counter, dashing across your various lotions and potions, and undoubtedly destroying the perfect sanctuary you have spent the entire afternoon crafting.

Jeongguk stares up at you with wide doe eyes, pressing his pointer finger to his lips.

"Appa?"

Internally hissing, Jeongguk pulls the shower curtain back just far enough to poke his head out, hoping that his son's ignorance and naivety is enough to prevent him from questioning why he's situated so low to the ground.

"What's the matter, bud?"

"Can we pway supahewoes?"

Your son shakes a worn Spiderman action figure in Jeongguk's face, his smile full of young bewilderment.

"Uhh.." Jeongguk turns his head to glance up at you.

He absolutely does not miss the way that you smirk, clearly finding humor in your current predicament that Jeongguk himself sorely lacks.

"What about Uncle Yoongi? Can't he play with you?"

"Nuh-uh. He gone nap-nap. N'I can't find Eomma!"

Jeongguk swallows his sigh, briefly thumbing through a rolodex of suitable excuses within his mind. When he comes up short, he gnaws against his bottom lip and opts instead to admit defeat.

"Okay, buddy. Give me five minutes and I'll be right out, okay?"

"Yay!"

From your position pressed flush against the cold shower wall, you can hear your son bounce up and down from excitement. After a brief victory cheer, he quickly darts out of the bathroom and leaves you alone with your partner once more.

"So… Good call on asking Yoongi to babysit for us to give us some alone time, huh?"

Jeongguk rolls his eyes as soon as he springs back up onto his feet.

"Yeah, Yeah. Even a golden maknae is wrong every once in a while."

Brushing his thumb over your fuchsia colored cheekbone, Jeongguk pulls you forward into a sickeningly sweet open-mouthed kiss. His tongue lalves a brief signature against your own; just enough to leave you sizzling all afternoon long.

"We'll pick this back up later, okay?"

You sigh happily, bringing a hand up to stroke across the spun sugar sting of your lips.

"It's a date."

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