P.S: iOS users have to pay $4.50 while my original sub is $3. You can avoid paying extra by using Patron web version, instead of the application.
Kim Namjoon
Namjoon knows that him still being somewhat stuck to his ex-girlfriend was not your fault, but you were the one who directly or indirectly suffered from the consequences.
For the first two months, things were tense within his own mindspace. He was in a constant dilemma. He felt like he was cheating on you by not being 100% into the relationship, while you gave him all he could ask for and more. He knows you could tell how lacking he was, but you never said a word, only smiled at him and held his hand tighter as if to promise better days ahead.
You are a jolly, kind, beautiful and understanding woman. As much as his knowledge spreads, he knows many of your colleagues have expressed their desires of dating you and been turned down. Standing on the same ground, he felt rather lucky. And he would have to move on from his past one day or another - so instead of spilling the truth or making things even more awkward between you and him - he tried to be better.
Kim Seokjin
“I will talk to my parents, Seokjin. Don’t worry.” You smiled, bowed and walked away. Although this was a conscious choice - his heart lurched painfully at the sight of your retreating back.
Words from your parents came two days later and Seohyun’s message came a week later.
It was a digital invitation card to her wedding ceremony. And sitting at his work desk, Seokjin felt like the biggest fool of this entire world.
Just like the selfish prick that he is, he thought of reaching out to you. He thought of apologizing a hundred times but what excuse would he give? How would he tell you that he made that choice willingly? And how would he ask for forgiveness from you when he can’t forgive himself?
A month passed after the incident.
January melted into February and today as he stepped inside the church after more than a month, he saw you sitting on your usual seat beside your mother.
Min Yoongi
During the middle of their third year together, Soori was diagnosed with cancer and she had left very little time to live. When she left for Germany to get treated with whatever hope was remaining for her, she made Yoongi promise to never look for her or ask anyone what happened to her. She broke up with him and asked him to continue a normal life.
The chances of her survival were so low that everyone around her believed that it was the end. Hence, finding Soori at the Christmas market was nothing short of a miracle to Yoongi. He couldn’t believe she was alive - blood and flesh - not some weird AI machine, standing in front of him and calling him by his name just like she did some six-seven years ago.
Being enveloped with emotions and feelings and sadness and joy - he made some bad choices, he said some things he regretted later on.
Jung Hoseok
You handed him the thangulu, said those sharp, painful words and then ran away somewhere. Before he could make out what was happening, you were already gone.
By the time Hoseok found his strength back on his legs - you had completely disappeared within the crowd. But he didn’t waste anymore time. He started running towards the direction you walked away and searched every bench, every nook, every possible shade you could be at. It has been some ten minutes since he is looking for you and he has started feeling disheartened just a little.
He walks inside a more secluded road, lined with snow and benches decorated with fairy lights. Pulling his phone from his pocket he is about to dial your number but then he hears a sniffle. He turns his head right and sees a figure sitting on a bench under a broken street light. With quick steps he reaches closer to the bench.
Park Jimin
He is regretting because you have not stopped teasing him despite the mistake being two months old now. Rather, you have turned it into some kind of an urban legend, have spread it among mutual friends and now it has become an inside joke, one that embarrasses him endlessly. However, he is incredibly thankful. The mistake was pretty serious, anyone else would have given him a hard time over such a slip of tongue.
But you are one of a kind. You are playful yet not unreasonably so. You are understanding but not overwhelmingly so.
Kim Taehyung
He was aware of your feelings the whole time he dated others. Maybe he could have thought of you if you were a little more easy going, but given the fact that you are as closed off as a shell protecting mother pearl - he knew you were never the right one for him. And getting into a relationship with imbalanced proportions of dedication only translates to doom.
He should have blamed it all on alcohol. He should have walked out of the restaurant you reserved for the first date, upon telling you he didn’t mean what he said the previous night.
But you looked scared. You looked as if you knew what he was about to do, and that did something unexplainable to his heart.
Jeon Jungkook
The seven years Jungkook spent with Sang-ah was not a joke - they have so much history together that the abrupt end of the relationship was certainly a let down. He thought they were going to be forever before he had to throw away the rose-tinted glasses to face reality.
However, it doesn’t mean he was not sincere about you.
Two years… his two years with you are one of the most beautiful times of his life and he wouldn’t trade that for anything else.
Never in his wildest dreams he had ever thought he would have to face both his past and present together and his mind would give him this task of choosing one of them only.
P.S: iOS users have to pay $4.50 while my original sub is $3. You can avoid paying extra by using Patron web version, instead of the application.
Kim Namjoon
Namjoon knows that him still being somewhat stuck to his ex-girlfriend was not your fault, but you were the one who directly or indirectly suffered from the consequences.
For the first two months, things were tense within his own mindspace. He was in a constant dilemma. He felt like he was cheating on you by not being 100% into the relationship, while you gave him all he could ask for and more. He knows you could tell how lacking he was, but you never said a word, only smiled at him and held his hand tighter as if to promise better days ahead.
You are a jolly, kind, beautiful and understanding woman. As much as his knowledge spreads, he knows many of your colleagues have expressed their desires of dating you and been turned down. Standing on the same ground, he felt rather lucky. And he would have to move on from his past one day or another - so instead of spilling the truth or making things even more awkward between you and him - he tried to be better.
Kim Seokjin
“I will talk to my parents, Seokjin. Don’t worry.” You smiled, bowed and walked away. Although this was a conscious choice - his heart lurched painfully at the sight of your retreating back.
Words from your parents came two days later and Seohyun’s message came a week later.
It was a digital invitation card to her wedding ceremony. And sitting at his work desk, Seokjin felt like the biggest fool of this entire world.
Just like the selfish prick that he is, he thought of reaching out to you. He thought of apologizing a hundred times but what excuse would he give? How would he tell you that he made that choice willingly? And how would he ask for forgiveness from you when he can’t forgive himself?
A month passed after the incident.
January melted into February and today as he stepped inside the church after more than a month, he saw you sitting on your usual seat beside your mother.
Min Yoongi
During the middle of their third year together, Soori was diagnosed with cancer and she had left very little time to live. When she left for Germany to get treated with whatever hope was remaining for her, she made Yoongi promise to never look for her or ask anyone what happened to her. She broke up with him and asked him to continue a normal life.
The chances of her survival were so low that everyone around her believed that it was the end. Hence, finding Soori at the Christmas market was nothing short of a miracle to Yoongi. He couldn’t believe she was alive - blood and flesh - not some weird AI machine, standing in front of him and calling him by his name just like she did some six-seven years ago.
Being enveloped with emotions and feelings and sadness and joy - he made some bad choices, he said some things he regretted later on.
Jung Hoseok
You handed him the thangulu, said those sharp, painful words and then ran away somewhere. Before he could make out what was happening, you were already gone.
By the time Hoseok found his strength back on his legs - you had completely disappeared within the crowd. But he didn’t waste anymore time. He started running towards the direction you walked away and searched every bench, every nook, every possible shade you could be at. It has been some ten minutes since he is looking for you and he has started feeling disheartened just a little.
He walks inside a more secluded road, lined with snow and benches decorated with fairy lights. Pulling his phone from his pocket he is about to dial your number but then he hears a sniffle. He turns his head right and sees a figure sitting on a bench under a broken street light. With quick steps he reaches closer to the bench.
Park Jimin
He is regretting because you have not stopped teasing him despite the mistake being two months old now. Rather, you have turned it into some kind of an urban legend, have spread it among mutual friends and now it has become an inside joke, one that embarrasses him endlessly. However, he is incredibly thankful. The mistake was pretty serious, anyone else would have given him a hard time over such a slip of tongue.
But you are one of a kind. You are playful yet not unreasonably so. You are understanding but not overwhelmingly so.
Kim Taehyung
He was aware of your feelings the whole time he dated others. Maybe he could have thought of you if you were a little more easy going, but given the fact that you are as closed off as a shell protecting mother pearl - he knew you were never the right one for him. And getting into a relationship with imbalanced proportions of dedication only translates to doom.
He should have blamed it all on alcohol. He should have walked out of the restaurant you reserved for the first date, upon telling you he didn’t mean what he said the previous night.
But you looked scared. You looked as if you knew what he was about to do, and that did something unexplainable to his heart.
Jeon Jungkook
The seven years Jungkook spent with Sang-ah was not a joke - they have so much history together that the abrupt end of the relationship was certainly a let down. He thought they were going to be forever before he had to throw away the rose-tinted glasses to face reality.
However, it doesn’t mean he was not sincere about you.
Two years… his two years with you are one of the most beautiful times of his life and he wouldn’t trade that for anything else.
Never in his wildest dreams he had ever thought he would have to face both his past and present together and his mind would give him this task of choosing one of them only.
Warnings - nothing? just fluff, some kisses, soft rainy moments <3
a/n - here goes my first yoongi fic🩷 I miss my yoongles sm. also it's funny how I'd written this when I had a cold (you'll know when u read this haha) btw alt title was "Drawn to you"
Masterlist kofi
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You’re barefoot on the cool tile floor, your oversized shirt hanging loose on your frame-Yoongi's, of course. The weather outside is the kind that turns the world slow.
The space filled with the gentle strumming of your boyfriend’s guitar. It's a soft tune, one you’re sure he’s making up on the spot. He always does that when the mood strikes.
Carefully holding his coffee in both hands, you pad over to him, rain-scented breeze all over. His dark hair is a little messy, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, looking so peaceful. And this is a kind of love you never knew your heart needed.
Yoongi looks up, lips tugging into that smile, the kind that’s gentle and made just for you. He shifts his guitar slightly, opening his arms, wordlessly inviting you in.
You settle into his lap like you were made to be there, the swing bed sways a little more. He takes the mug from your hands with a soft “thank you.”
Then the guitar is back in his hands, and so are you. tucked between him and the instrument now, your back warm against his chest.
This time, the music feels different. Like it’s being played just for you.
You lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the melody continues. His chin brushes the top of your shoulder. It’s intimate in a way words could never be.
This is your favorite song. And it doesn’t even have a name.
“I love this,” you whisper, your voice almost lost beneath the rain.
Yoongi softly hums, fingers moving with a lazy grace, never missing a beat.
“Did you make this now?”
He hums low in his throat, a subtle confirmation. “Mm,” he says, barely louder than the guitar. “It’s what came out when I heard the rain.”
You smile, the corners of your mouth tugging up as your heart squeezes with so much affection you don’t know what to do with it. Yoongi never used to like the rain.
But somewhere along the way, after years of love, patience. He’s started to accept it, like it even.
Maybe because now, when the rain falls, he has moments like these to hold on to.
You shift just enough to press your lips to his jaw, as the soft tune continues.
“Teach me,” you say after some time, voice bubbling with excitement.
“Teach you what?”
“Guitar,” you grin. “I wanna learn.”
He chuckles, “You wanna learn now?”
“Yes,” you nod eagerly, adjusting in his lap. “The weather’s perfect, you’re here, I’m here, the guitar is here—it’s fate.”
He laughs, really laughs this time, tilting his head back a little. “You’re unbelievable. You don't even know how to hold it, baby.”
“I know how to hold you,” you say dramatically, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“That’s not the same,” he mutters, but he’s smiling so hard now it’s impossible to miss.
Yoongi shakes his head, still smiling. “Alright, alright. But if we’re doing this, you need to sit properly. Come here.”
He catches your waist and turns you gently adjusting the guitar in front of you, his hands warm as they reach around.
“Okay, this hand here,” he murmurs, fingers guide yours into position.
You watch him, focused, lips slightly parted in concentration.
“And this one…” He lifts your right hand and rests it near the strings. “You’ll strum with this one. But not like you’re attacking it, okay? Be gentle.”
You huff out a laugh. “I’m always gentle.”
“Hm a little chaos at times.”
“I take that as a compliment.”
“You would,” he mutters fondly, and leans in just enough to bump his forehead lightly against yours before pulling back. “Now focus.”
Laughter spills through both of you bright and full. The swing creaks gently beneath swaying in rhythm with the soft breeze. Yoongi’s head tilts back, eyes crinkling, the sound of his laugh blending with yours. Both of you tangled, fingers brushing, hearts light.
Everything feeling slow and golden.
Eventually, after another hopeless strum and an exaggerated sigh, you let your hands fall away in defeat, lips pouting in mock frustration. Yoongi chuckles softly, taking the guitar back with ease.
You settle against him again, resting your cheek to his shoulder, watching him as his playing resumes.
Your gaze lingers on him, his cheeks still tinged with pink from laughing, a gentle glow in his eyes that makes your heart ache in the sweetest way.
“What?” he murmurs, glancing at you, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
You shrug lightly, the words slipping out before you can think too much. “I love you.”
He pauses, eyes flickering to yours, there's a subtle rise in the color dusting the tips of his ears.
A hum leaves him returning to plucking the strings like he didn’t just steal your breath.
You laugh under it, snuggling into his side. “Won’t say it back, huh?”
He doesn’t answer with words. But the way his arm curls around you a little tighter says everything.
The rain has quieted to a gentle drizzle. You rise from the swing, slipping off without a word, drawn to the edge of the balcony where the air smells like earth and calm.
“Yah—baby, get back,” Yoongi calls, concern lacing his voice. “You’ll catch a cold.”
You glance back at him with a sheepish grin, already stepping into the open. “It’s okay,” you say, arms slightly outstretched. “It’s not even raining that much. Come join me.”
He sets the guitar down brows furrowed with worry. “You get cold so easily,” he mutters. “Don’t be reckless baby, get back.”
You almost whine, your laugh bubbling out as you turn your face up toward the sky, letting the soft drizzle kiss your skin. “It’s just fun,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut.
Yoongi just watches, his sigh lost in the quiet hush of rain. His gaze softens in awe, like you’re something endless. Maybe even unreal.
You, with droplets clinging to your lashes, smiling at the sky, the drizzle dampening your hair. Time feels slow. Perhaps stopping just for the two of you.
You open your eyes feeling a warmth. Yoongi stands in front of you, his hair a little drenched and tousled. looking at you like he couldn’t help it but be drawn to you.
A grin spreads across your face as you step forward, wrapping your arms around his waist, tilting your head up. “Hi,” you whisper, eyes gleaming.
Yoongi’s eyes reflecting your smile. like the rain, like the moment.
He leans in, breath mingling with yours as his hands rest lightly on your waist before he's kissing you.
It’s the kind of kiss that feels like home. Like a quiet promise between raindrops.
His lips linger. The world feels blurred. Just the two of you, soaked in gentle drizzles.
“Thought you didn’t wanna join,” you tease playfully.
Yoongi huffs a quiet laugh through his nose, eyes flickering over your face like you’re the most ridiculous, beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His thumb brushes lightly against your lower lip.
“I didn’t,” he murmurs, that smile tugging at the corner of his lips again. “But you’re impossible to resist.”
And with that, he kisses you again,
just because he can.
Yoongi turns you around in his arms, pulling you flush against him. His chin rests lightly on the top of your head.
You close your eyes, leaning back into him, your hands resting over his as they hold you close.
There's no rush. Only warmth and peace.
Just love in its softest form.
You hear a barely audible breath behind you.
“I love you.”
simply a truth, whispered just for you.
You don’t say anything back right away. Your smile widens, eyes still closed, heart so full.
Matching rings and a joke—your boyfriend says you're married. What he didn’t expect is for you to play along the whole trip... And the more you pretend...the less it feels like a game.
Pairing - Jungkook x Reader
Genre - mostly fluff, established relationship au, smut (18+) MDNI
Oneshot - 7.8k words
Warnings - fluffff, sunshine energy gf, Jungkook being effortlessly bf/husband material🤭💘, Explicit smut - unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, little handjob, creampie, marking
a/n - a quick backstory for this plot inspiration - my friend's friend went on a trip with her bf where they got matching rings n had a joke that they were married. AND EXCUSE ME?? this made such a good plot that I just couldn't resist not writing😭😭 n yeah wrote about Greece solely coz of the aesthetics (never been there tho) also also I wrote around 90% of this only listening to Blue by Yung Kai n it perfectly matches the vibe!!😭💗 ps- I feel angst writing is more of my thing bt I've tried writing fluff (a lot) for this sooo lmk if it's acceptable?🫠 n yup early update coz I cancelled out 2,3 more scenes I had in mind 🤷♀️ ok byeeee examss upcominggg
Your fingers grip Jungkook’s sleeve, barely able to contain your excitement as you glance out the plane window. Blue. Endless blue. The vast stretch of the sea sparkles below, tiny white houses dotting the cliffs in the distance.
“Jungkook,” you whisper, voice full of wonder. “Look at that.”
He chuckles, his gaze soft and amused, “Baby, we’re still on the plane.”
“I know,” you sigh dramatically, turning back to him. “But still. Greece! Our first trip together! Just you and me for seven whole days.”
Jungkook smirks, teasing, “What if I'm gonna get sick of you?”
You scoff, nudging his shoulder. “You’re stuck with me now, Jeon.”
He exhales, grinning like he wouldn’t have it any other way. The past four years had been beautiful, but between work schedules, deadlines, and life, you barely got time to just be together.
But this time? it’s just you and him. Jungkook hums, fingers lazily tracing circles over your thigh. “I think I could get used to this.”
------------------ Day 1
The moment you step inside, your eyes take in the breathtaking suite. White-washed walls, soft linen curtains swaying from the sea breeze, a private infinity pool overlooking the ocean. Jungkook watches you, arms crossed, fondness written all over his face.
“This is so nice,” you gush, spinning to face him. “I don’t think I’ll ever wanna leave.”
Jungkook sets the luggage down, smirking. “Well, we have a week.”
Your smile grows. Something in your chest feels so warm. You turn to him, eyes gleaming. “What should we do first?”
Jungkook steps closer, voice low and playful. “Hmm. I can think of a few things.”
You shove his chest, laughing, “Yah Jeon, behave.” He chuckles, arms wrapping lazily around your waist, pulling you in. “No promises, baby.”
----
You practically bounce on your feet as you slip on your sandals, the soft sunlight spilling through the sheer curtains of your hotel room. “Okay, okay, I’m ready!” you chirp, spinning to face Jungkook, who is still leaning against the doorframe, watching you with pure amusement.
His arms are crossed, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been ‘ready’ for the last fifteen minutes.”
You roll your eyes, grabbing your bag. “I am! Let’s goo”
Jungkook doesn’t move. Instead, he reaches out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into him, his nose brushing against yours.
His voice drops, teasing. “You’re really just trusting me with everything, huh?”
You nod immediately. “Of course. You’re the planner, I’m just here to have fun.” Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers trailing lazily up your arm.
He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss against your lips. It’s warm. Sweet. Dangerously distracting.
You blink up at him, refusing to fall for it. “Jeon Jungkook, if you don’t take me outside in the next ten seconds, I’m leaving you here.”
He laughs before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into him.
“Alright, alright,” dropping a quick kiss to your temple. “Let’s go.”
And with his fingers laced through yours, he leads you out, the two of you finally stepping into your first day in Greece.
The scent of fresh-baked bread, sweet honey pastries filling the air as you and Jungkook wander through the bustling market. Your fingers brush against the beautifully painted souvenirs, woven baskets, your eyes wide with excitement.
“Jungkook, look at these!” you gasp, holding up a tiny, hand-carved olive wood frog.
He chuckles, watching you with pure amusement. “You don’t even like frogs.”
You scowl. “Yeah, but look at his little face.”
Jungkook shakes his head, ruffling your hair before grabbing the frog figurine and paying for it without a second thought.
You blink. “I wasn’t actually gonna—”
“Too late,” he smirks, handing it to you. “Now it’s yours.”
Before you can respond, the scent of something sweet and buttery hits your nose, making you immediately turn toward a food stall.
You grin. “We have to try those.”
The vendor hands over a small plate, and before you can even grab a piece, Jungkook picks one up and holds it to your lips.
Your eyes narrow. “You’re feeding me now?”
“Open.”
You roll your eyes but let him feed you, the sweet layers melting on your tongue. A small hum of satisfaction escapes you before you glance at Jungkook.
“Good, huh?” he smirks.
Instead of answering, you take another piece, holding it up like you’re about to feed him.
Jungkook smirks, leaning in. “See? You like it when I—”
But before he can finish, you smirk and pop the piece into your own mouth instead. You burst out laughing, wiping a crumb from your lip. “Tastes good.”
Jungkook gapes at you, half-glaring, half-amused. “You little—”
Before he can finish, you grab his wrist and drag him toward the next stall, giggling.
“We have so much more to eat,” you sing-song.
Jungkook lets you pull him away, shaking his head with amusement.
The market fades behind you as you and Jungkook wander through the winding streets, hand in hand.
The air is warm, salt-kissed from the ocean breeze, and the soft sound of distant waves crashes below the cliffs. White-washed buildings, blue domes line the path, vibrant bougainvillea flowers spilling over terraces.
Jungkook squeezes your hand lightly. “Still trusting my planning skills?”
You grin. “So far, you’re doing great, boyfriend.”
He chuckles, his dimple peeking out, and just when you turn to admire the view—Click.
You blink. “Did you just take my picture?”
Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide it. He’s holding up his phone, looking way too pleased with himself.
“Yup.”
You narrow your eyes, stepping closer. “Lemme see.”
“Nope.” He smirks, slipping the phone into his pocket.
You gasp. “Jungkook!”
He laughs, stepping back just as you lunge for his phone.
“Oh, baby, don’t even try,” he teases, holding it high above his head, his other hand wrapping around your waist.
You huff, glaring up at him. “What if I looked bad?”
Jungkook stands confident. So annoyingly sure of himself.
“You looked perfect.”He says it so easily, like a fact, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. For a second, you forget what you were even mad about.
Jungkook grins, clearly noticing your reaction. “What? No comeback?”
You snap out of it and quickly grab your phone, flipping the camera. “Okay, if you’re gonna take pictures of me, I’m getting yours too.”
Jungkook doesn’t protest as you start clicking away, a mix of stolen shots and silly ones.
“Okay, now pose,” you instruct, biting your lip to stop your smile.
Jungkook scoffs but obeys, shoving his hands into his pockets, tilting his head slightly, looking effortlessly model-like.
You pause. “That’s unfair.”
“What?”
“You just naturally look good in every picture.”
He laughs, stepping closer. “Says you?”
Before you can argue, he pulls you in, flipping the camera to selfie mode. “Let’s take some together,” he murmurs.
And just like that, you spend the next ten minutes giggling, making faces, taking videos. Jungkook kisses your cheek in one, in another, he makes you laugh so hard your eyes disappear.
The pictures—some blurry, some too close, some candid. but when you look at them later, you realize they’re perfect in every way that matters.
----
The sun is lower in the sky now, everything's in warm shades of gold as you and Jungkook walk along the soft, white sand. Your sandals dangle from your fingers, the ocean breeze cooling your skin.
Jungkook is beside you, his hand lazily intertwined with yours, his other tucked into his pocket as he watches the tide roll in.
“Okay,” you say, breaking the comfortable silence. “This might be the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.”
Jungkook hums, glancing at you instead of the view. “Yeah. It really is.”
You turn to look at him—only to find him already looking at you.
Before you can overthink it, something catches your eye—a small wooden stall set up just a little ahead, tucked beneath the shade of a few palm trees.
“What’s that?” You tug on Jungkook’s hand, pulling him toward it.
The stall is lined with handmade jewelry, delicate silver and gold pieces glinting in the fading sunlight. Small sea-glass pendants, braided anklets, thin rings on display.
“Ohh, these are cute,” you murmur, running your fingers over the bands.
Jungkook watches as you casually slip one onto your finger, admiring how it looks before turning to him with a grin.
“Should we get matching ones?” you joke, wiggling your fingers.
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Matching rings?”
“Yeah, why not?” you tease. “It’ll be like a little vacation memory.”
Jungkook hums, studying the rings for a moment before wordlessly picking one up. Without hesitation, he takes your hand, slipping it onto your finger himself.
Your breath catches. You glance at him, expecting a smirk, some teasing remark, but he’s quiet. Focused.
The ring fits perfectly.
Jungkook’s gaze flickers up to meet yours, and for a second, neither of you say anything.
“Guess we’re married now,” he quips, breaking the silence with a cheeky grin.
You snort, shoving his shoulder. “You’re so dumb.”
But just as you’re about to make another joke, you pause. because Jungkook is still looking at the rings.
And before you can ask, he casually grabs another one—the exact same design and slips it onto his own finger.
He lifts his hand beside yours, comparing them. “Now we match,” he hums, completely unbothered, making your heart stumble.
----
You collapse onto the bed, sighing dramatically.
Jungkook chuckles, setting his phone down before joining you, his body warm and solid beside yours.
Jungkook lifts his hand, wiggling his fingers, the ring glinting under the dim lights.
“So,” he muses, voice low and playful. “How does it feel to be my wife for seven days?"
You snort, rolling over to face him. “Delusional.”
Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling, before pulling you into his chest. “You love it.”
You hum, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “Maybe.”
His hand finds yours, fingers absentmindedly tracing over the band on your finger.
Neither of you take the rings off.
Neither of you even think about it.
------------------- Day 2
The warm afternoon sun bathes the streets as you and Jungkook browse a small outdoor market. Small shops, displays filled with handcrafted goods and souvenirs.
You stop at a small stall, admiring intricately painted ceramic plates. An older woman, the vendor, smiles at you.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she says, her accent thick with warmth.
You nod enthusiastically. “Yes! My husband and I are visiting for the first time.”
Jungkook chokes on his water.
You hear him cough violently beside you, his hand gripping the bottle like it betrayed him.
The vendor laughs. “Ah, newlyweds?”
“Oh, yes,” you continue smoothly, holding Jungkook’s arm. “We’re having the best time. He planned everything so perfectly.”
You feel him staring at you—his entire existence malfunctioning in real-time.
The woman smiles warmly at Jungkook. “A good husband always takes care of his wife.”
Jungkook clears his throat.
“Oh—uh, yeah,” he mutters. “That’s… me.”
You beam, squeezing his arm. “He’s really amazing. Very thoughtful.”
Jungkook’s ears turn pink.
Once the woman turns away to wrap up your purchase, he leans down, voice low.
“Do you hear yourself?” he mutters.
You grin, still holding onto his arm “What? I’m just staying in character. You said we're married soo...we'll be a happy married couple throughout this trip.”
Jungkook exhales sharply, shaking his head but smiling.
“Oh my god.”
----
Jungkook immediately drops onto the bed, groaning as he stretches his arms above his head.
You plop down beside him, nudging his side. “Tired, husband?”
He groans louder, covering his face with his hands. “If you call me that one more time…”
You grin, rolling onto your stomach to face him. “What? That’s what you are.”
Jungkook peeks at you through his fingers, eyes narrowing. “You’re having too much fun with this.”
You hum, twisting your ring on your finger absentmindedly. “You should too. I mean, you’re already wearing the ring. You might as well act the part.”
Jungkook lifts his hand, inspecting the matching band on his finger. He’s silent for a moment, before—
“I should start calling you ‘wifey’ then, huh?”
Your eyes snap to his face, and—yup. He’s smirking.
“Don't you dare,” you mutter, sitting up immediately.
Jungkook grins wider, propping himself up on his elbows. “Wifey, can you get me some water?”
“I will pour it on your face.”
He laughs, absolutely loving this. “Wifey, should we get couple bathrobes too?”
You grab a pillow and smack him with it.
Jungkook wheezes, rolling away from your attack before bolting up from the bed.
“Okay, okay! I’m going for a swim,” he calls out, grabbing a towel.
You glare at him, crossing your arms. “You’re banned from speaking for the next hour.”
Jungkook grins. “That’s okay.”
With zero shame, he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, revealing every defined muscle and tattoo.
Jungkook walks out to the pool. Leaving you sitting there, absolutely speechless.
----
The water is cool against your skin, the evening air warm, as you float lazily in the pool. The view of the twinkling lights stretches out beyond the infinity edge.
Jungkook is across from you, leaning against the pool’s edge, his arms resting on the surface, watching you with that look.
The same one from earlier. like he’s amused. Maybe a little dangerous.
You try to ignore it, focusing on the soft ripples in the water.
A small wave splashes against your stomach. Your eyes snap up. Jungkook is still there, expression unreadable. But his fingers, barely submerged, are moving.
You narrow your eyes splashing a wave back without hesitation.
Jungkook gasps, dramatically wiping his face. “Oh, you wanna play?”
Before you can react, he swiftly moves, strong, closing the space between you in seconds.
Your breath catches as his hands find your waist, pulling you against him in the water.
“You’re really pushing your luck, wifey,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.
Your hands find his shoulders, fingers pressing into firm, wet skin. “And what are you gonna do about it, husband?”
Jungkook grins, kissing you.
The water ripples around you as he pulls you even closer, one hand firm on your hip, the other tracing up your spine. His lips move slow, consuming, his breath mixing with yours.
You let out a small gasp, fingers curling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue teasing against yours, making you feel lightheaded.
He lifts you. Just enough for your legs to wrap around his waist, water dripping between you as his lips trail down your throat.
Your nails dig into his shoulders, heat pooling low, desire crashing into you like the waves beyond.
“Jungkook—”
“Shh,” he murmurs, voice rough, pressed against your skin. “Let me take care of my wife.”
-------------------- Day 3
The morning light filters softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You stir slightly, but before you can move, a strong arm tightens around your waist.
A deep grumble vibrates against your back. “Where are you going?”
You smile sleepily. “Nowhere.”
Jungkook nuzzles into your neck, his voice raspy with sleep. “Good. Stay.”
His fingers trace lazy patterns on your bare skin, warm, possessive. You hum, relaxing into his touch, “Why are you so tired?
Jungkook grunts. “Because my wife wore me out last night.”
Your face heats instantly. “Oh my god—”
He chuckles, pressing lazy kisses against your shoulder. “Mmm. You liked it.”
You turn to glare at him, but he’s already smirking.
“You’re annoying.”
“And you love it,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, his lips brushing your temple.
You pretend to protest, but honestly?
You could stay like this forever.
-------
The climb isn’t too long, but the slight incline has you huffing just a little.
“Jungkook, are we almost there?” you ask, pushing back a strand of hair as the warm breeze kisses your skin.
Jungkook, walking ahead effortlessly, doesn’t even look winded. He glances back at you with a smirk. “Tired already, wife?”
You narrow your eyes. “You dragged me up here. I should’ve just—”
You stop mid-sentence, sighing dramatically. Jungkook chuckles. Without another word, he crouches down in front of you, patting his back.
You blink. “What are you doing?”
He tilts his head. “What does it look like? Get on.”
Your lips twitch. “Are you sure? I’m not exactly—”
Jungkook turns slightly, raising a brow. “Did I stutter?”
You giggle, placing your hands on his shoulders before hopping onto his back, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Jungkook adjusts his grip on your thighs, lifting you with ease.
And just like that he carries you up the trail like you weigh nothing.
You press your cheek against his, grinning. “You’re really strong, huh?”
Jungkook hums. “You’re really lucky, huh?”
Laughing, you pepper soft kisses along his jaw, his cheek, his temple.
Jungkook exhales sharply. “Y/n.”
You blink innocently. “What?”
He grins, shaking his head. “You’re distracting me.”
You laugh against his skin. “What, can’t handle a few kisses?”
Jungkook’s grip on you tightens slightly, his voice dropping just a little lower.
“Keep testing me, wifey.”
You don’t get a chance to respond because before you know it, you’ve reached the top.
And when Jungkook finally sets you down, he doesn’t let go immediately.
Instead, he lifts his phone, angling the camera before pulling you close against his side.
“Say wifeyyy.”
You burst out laughing, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
You still say it. and when you peek at the screen—the view behind you is breathtaking. But the way Jungkook is looking at you in the frame?
His gaze holding something deep. Like he’s seeing something even more beautiful than the world around him.
---------------------- Day 4
Jungkook walks beside you, hands in his pockets, sunglasses on, looking effortlessly cool until you drag him straight into a clothing store.
“You’re making me shop?” he groans.
You grin, already browsing. “Of course.”
Jungkook exhales, resigned. “Fine. But if I’m suffering, I get to rate your choices.”
And just like that, he ends up sitting on one of those plush chairs outside the fitting room, watching you like this is some kind of mission. You try on a few outfits, twirling in front of him.
Jungkook’s commentary is pure chaos.
“Too frilly.” “Too serious.”
“That one makes you look like a cute little menace—get it.”
You laugh, shaking your head. Eventually, you pick out two dresses, and a jacket for your boyfriend.
No.
Husband.
At the counter, you pull out your card, ready to pay—only for Jungkook to casually slide his in before you can react.
“Jungkook—”
“Got it.” He says it so effortlessly, like it’s nothing.
You stare at him. “I was paying.”
Jungkook shrugs, grabbing the bags. “Not when I’m here.”
You open your mouth to protest, but before you can—
The cashier smiles warmly. “You have a very thoughtful boyfriend.”
“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend.”
The cashier’s eyes widen slightly. “Oh, I’m so sorry—”
You smile sweetly. “He’s my husband.”
The cashier relaxes, “Ohh! You two make a lovely couple.”
You squeeze Jungkook’s arm, pressing close. “Thank you! He’s the sweetest hubby, really.”
Jungkook just stands there. Blinking.
The cashier laughs. “You’re a lucky woman.”
You beam, looking up at Jungkook. “I know.”
The moment you step outside, he leans down, murmuring lowly.
“You did that on purpose.”
You grin. “And?”
Jungkook shakes his head, running a hand through his hair.
Your arms are full of shopping bags, and Jungkook is carrying even more.
“You have a problem,” he groans, adjusting the bags on his arms.
You grin, unfazed. “Correction: we have a problem.”
Jungkook exhales dramatically. “I need a refund on this marriage.”
You gasp, clutching your chest. “How dare you? After all we’ve been through?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch. “Come on, let’s find food before you convince me to adopt a souvenir shop.”
----
The night market buzzes with life. Fairy lights and lanterns glow overhead, casting a golden hue as soft music drifts through the lively streets.
You and Jungkook wander through the crowd, sharing bites of food, laughing as he tries to steal yours.
You pause by a musician playing a soft acoustic song, his voice melting into the warm night.
You turn to Jungkook immediately.
His eyes narrow. “No.”
You bat your lashes, pouting. “Please?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Jungkook,” you whine, nudging him relentlessly.
“No.”
Puppy eyes.
Jungkook groans, running a hand down his face. “Oh my god, stop looking at me like that.”
He swears under his breath before finally stepping forward. “You owe me,” he mutters.
The musician grins, strumming the guitar as Jungkook casually leans in and starts singing.
His voice melts into the night, smooth and effortless, blending perfectly with the melody. Conversations quiet, heads turn, people pause to listen.
You watch in awe, your heart tripping over itself.
Jungkook, who claimed he didn’t want to sing, looks completely in his element.
By the time the song ends, the small crowd cheers and claps. Jungkook glances at you, shaking his head with a knowing smirk.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.
You beam, grabbing his hand. “And you’re amazing.”
Jungkook lets you pull him away, fingers intertwined, the warmth of the night wrapping around you both.
------------------- Day 5
The small cooking studio is bright and welcoming, filled with the scent of fresh, warm bread.
Jungkook snickers as you struggle with your apron. “Are you already losing?”
You glare. “Shut up.”
He grins, effortlessly tying his own. “You sure you don’t want to just let me cook?”
“Nope,” you're determined.
Jungkook just laughs, clearly amused.
The class begins, and predictably—you’re a disaster.
Your dough refuses to knead properly, your vegetables are questionably chopped.
Jungkook, of course, is thriving.
“I can’t believe I’m married to this,” he sighs dramatically, shaking his head.
You elbow him. “EXCUSE ME?”
He smirks, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Don’t worry, wifey. I’ll make sure we don’t starve.”
You roll your eyes, but your stomach flips a little at the way he says it.
Midway through the class, Jungkook’s phone vibrates.
“Work,” he mutters, frowning. “I’ll be quick. Don’t burn the place down.”
You wave him off. “Go, go.”
With Jungkook distracted, Jay—the instructor, steps over your station to help.
“How’s it going over here?”
You laugh sheepishly, “Terrible. I think I’ve offended the cooking gods.”
Jay laughs. “You’re not that bad.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Okay, yeah, this is pretty bad,” he grins.
“Try using less force,” he suggests, guiding your hands gently.
You try again, still failing miserably.
“Okay, maybe a little more force than that.”
You groan in frustration, but it only makes him grin.
“At least you’re enjoying yourself,” he says.
You laugh, shaking your head.
Jungkook returns just in time to see you laughing easily, comfortably with the instructor.
He steps back beside you, sliding an arm around your waist effortlessly.
“You good, sweetheart?” he asks.
You blink up at him. Sweetheart?
Jay nods. “We were just fixing the dough.”
Jungkook hums, but his hand stays on you.
For the rest of the lesson, he’s suddenly way too attentive. Helping you, adjusting your apron, calling you ‘wife’ three times in five minutes.
Oh, you know exactly what’s happening.
And honestly? You love it.
----
The sun is beginning to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. The evening air carrying the salty scent of the ocean. Jungkook walks ahead, leading you toward a parked motorbike.
“Wait. You—”
Jungkook swings his leg over the seat effortlessly, grinning as he pats the space behind him. “Get on.”
Your eyes widen. “Jungkook. Where did you even get this?”
He smirks. “Rented it.”
You stare. “When?”
He shrugs, slipping his sunglasses on. “Had some free time.”
You cross your arms. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Jungkook chuckles, reaching for your wrist and pulling you closer. “It’s a surprise, baby. Now, come on.”
Jungkook pats the seat again, smirking. “Scared?”
You narrow your eyes. “Not even a little.”
Swinging your leg over, you settle behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.
Jungkook hums in approval, his hands resting on yours.
“Hold on tight.”
The bike roars to life, wheels kicking up dust as he speeds down the open road.
Wind rushes through your hair, the world blurring around you in a mixture of colors and motion.
You gasp, laughing as you tighten your hold on him. “Jungkook—!”
He laughs too, a sound so free, so full of joy, that it makes your chest tighten.
“Like it?” he shouts over the wind.
You press your cheek against his back, grinning against the fabric of his shirt. “I love it!”
Jungkook grins too. And then—he speeds up.
You squeal, tightening your grip. “Jungkook, slow down!”
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought you weren’t scared?”
You huff, smacking his stomach lightly.
Jungkook laughs, slowing just a little.
He rides for a while, taking you through winding coastal roads, past cliffs overlooking the sea, the salty air mixing with the scent of his cologne.
He leads you both to a secluded viewpoint overlooking the ocean.
The view is breathtaking. Endless ocean stretching toward the horizon, the sun dipping lower, turning the water into molten gold.
You don’t even realize you’re still holding onto him.
Jungkook turns slightly, his voice lower now. “You can let go, you know.”
You nuzzle against his shoulder. “Don’t want to.”
His fingers gently brush against yours.
Then, a whisper, almost lost in the sound of the waves.
“Then don’t.”
------------------- Day 6
You wake up expecting another fun day of exploring, but something feels different. Jungkook is way too calm. No teasing smirks. No cryptic questions.
Just casual, relaxed Jungkook, who kisses your forehead and says, “Let’s just take it easy today.”
Huh?
You squint at him. This man has been planning every second of this trip and now he suddenly wants to ‘take it easy’?
But okay, fine.
You two spend the day strolling around, checking out small shops. and every time you try to read his expression, he just smiles.
Like he knows something you don’t.
By late afternoon, you can’t take it anymore. You stop in your tracks and grab his arm. “Jungkook, what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” he asks, pretending to be clueless.
“You’re… too normal?”
He snorts. “And that’s suspicious?”
“VERY.”
Jungkook just laughs and pulls you into a hug. “Baby, relax. Just enjoy the day, yeah?”
You narrow your eyes, suspicious as ever, but decide to let it go.
As you head back to the hotel, Jungkook casually says, “Oh, by the way, be ready by 7.”
Oh. Okay??
So here you are standing in front of the mirror, holding up two dresses.
Jungkook’s lack of details has you overthinking. What exactly are you dressing for? Something fancy? Something casual?
With a sigh, you call out, “Jungkook, help me pick.”
He walks over, eyes flicking between the two options. “Try them on.”
You huff. “Can’t you just choose?”
He smirks, leaning against the doorframe. “Nope. I wanna see.”
Rolling your eyes, you slip into the first dress—a soft, elegant choice. Pretty, but… safe.
You step out, twirling slightly. “This?”
Jungkook hums, tilting his head. “It’s nice.”
Nice?
You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He bites back a grin. “Try the other one.”
You sigh but change into the second dress—a sleeveless, ankle-length beauty. fitted at the top, flowing softly down your waist, hugging you in all the right places.
You step out, smoothing the fabric "This one?”
His eyes drag over you, slower this time. His lips part slightly, but no words come out.
You raise an eyebrow. “Well?”
Jungkook swallows, his voice lower. “Yeah. That one.”
You smirk, turning back to the mirror. “Thought so.”
----
Jungkook leads you outside, where a sleek, black car is already waiting.
You blink, surprised. “Wait… you booked a private car?”
Jungkook grins, opening the door for you. “Of course. Only the best for my wife.”
You roll your eyes, getting in, biting back a small smile.
As the car glides through the city, Jungkook’s hand finds yours, thumb tracing small circles.
You glance at him. “Are you ever going to tell me where we’re going?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nope.”
You huff dramatically. “I hate you.”
Jungkook just smirks, leaning closer. “No, you don’t.”
It doesn't take long when the car pulls up to the venue. He opens the door for you.
“We’re here,” he murmurs, squeezing your fingers.
You step out, and your breath catches instantly. The place is breathtaking. Not extravagant, not overwhelming. Just perfect.
The entrance is lined with soft, golden lights. Delicate floral arrangements fill the space, their scent carried by the evening breeze. The tables are set with warm candlelight, elegant yet cozy decor, the entire atmosphere radiating love.
It’s exactly what you’d love.
You turn to him, eyes wide with awe. “Jungkook…”
He watches you, a small, proud smile tugging at his lips.
“You like it?” he asks softly.
Your chest tightens. “Like it? It’s.. beautiful.”
Jungkook grins, leading you inside.
But as you take it all in, you speak softly, “You shouldn’t have spent so much..”
Jungkook stops, turning to you. His brows furrow slightly, as if he doesn’t understand. With a small chuckle, he leans in, his voice gentle.
“Baby,” he murmurs. “Do you really think I wouldn’t give you the world if I could?”
Your heart stumbles. A small smile making to your face.
Jungkook pulls out your chair, helping you settle before taking his seat across from you. The soft candlelight flickers between you, casting a golden glow over his features.
And the way he’s looking at you? Like you’re the most beautiful thing in the room.
You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “You’re staring.”
Jungkook shrugs, unbothered. “Yeah.”
Your heart stumbles.
The conversation flows easily—laughter, teasing, deep moments that make your chest tighten. And just when you think the night couldn’t get any more romantic, Jungkook stands, offering his hand.
“Dance with me?”
Your eyes widen slightly. “Here?”
He nods toward the open space, where soft music plays in the background. “Why not?”
You hesitate for half a second before slipping your hand into his. Jungkook guides you effortlessly, his touch firm yet gentle. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, swaying to the soft melody.
Your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, your cheek pressing against his chest.
“I love you,” Jungkook murmurs.
Your heart melts.
You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “I love you, too.”
Jungkook’s smile softens before he leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips.
Everything else fades.
It’s just you, him, and the feeling of being completely and utterly loved.
----
The ride back to the hotel is comfortable, with Jungkook’s fingers lazily tracing patterns on your palm as he holds your hand.
Once inside the room, you kick off your heels, sighing dramatically.
Jungkook chuckles. “Tired?”
You turn to him, smirking. “Emotionally, yes. My husband was incredibly romantic tonight. It was overwhelming.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears turn pink. “Shut up.”
You gasp. “Oh my god, are you blushing?”
He groans, grabbing your waist and pulling you into bed with him.
You yelp, laughing as you land against his chest.
His arms lock around you, holding you close. “Stop talking.”
You grin against his skin. “Never.”
Jungkook sighs dramatically, but his grip tightens.
You shift slightly, tilting your head up to look at him softly, “Seriously, though… tonight was perfect. Thank you.”
His gaze softens. “Anything for you, baby.”
Your heart melts as you snuggle deeper into his warmth.
Jungkook presses a lazy kiss to your forehead.
------------------- Day 7
From the moment you wake up, there’s a heaviness in your chest.
It’s the last day of your trip.
Tomorrow morning, you’ll be on a flight back home, and this dream-like escape with Jungkook will be just… a memory.
You sigh, leaning into his warmth. “I don’t want this to end.”
Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We still have the whole day, baby.”
You both decide to just walk..with no specific destination in mind, hand in hand, strolling through the streets, weaving through flower stalls, sharing street food, laughing at nothing. The weather is perfect—bright, breezy, the sky painted in soft blues and wisps of white clouds.
Everywhere you turn, there are vibrant flowers in bloom, colors bursting against the golden buildings.
Jungkook squeezes your hand. “Happy?”
You look up at him, feeling the sun, the wind, the warmth of his palm against yours.
“Very.”
You don’t know how long you walk. Until, you turn a corner—
An open, breathtaking garden.
Sprawling fields of flowers in every shade imaginable. The gentle breeze carries their scent, petals dancing in the wind.
And the sunset—oh, the sunset. Burning gold, soft pinks, and deep purples, stretching endlessly into the horizon.
“...Wow.”
You step forward instinctively, tugging Jungkook’s hand, drawn to the beauty before you.
Your fingers graze the petals of a flower, eyes wide with childlike wonder.
“It’s so beautiful,” you whisper, voice barely above a breath.
Jungkook doesn’t respond.
Because he’s not looking at the flowers. He’s looking at you. The way your hair moves with the wind, strands catching the golden light. The way your lips part slightly in awe, the way your eyes shine with pure happiness.
His chest tightens, something deep and unshakable settling in his heart.
He clicks his camera. Capturing you. this moment, this feeling. The shutter sound makes you turn around, still grinning.
“Kook, this place is amazing, isn’t it?”
Jungkook steps forward, silently plucking a small flower from a nearby bush and gently tucking it behind your ear.
You laugh lightly at the gesture until you notice his expression.
He’s just… watching you.
So much love in his eyes, so much depth, like he’s seeing something more than just this moment. The laughter fades. He leans in without a word.
A soft kiss. Slow. So full of emotion that your heart aches. When he pulls away, you whisper against his lips, breathless. "What was that for?”
Jungkook’s gaze holds yours. He smiles, voice barely above a whisper.
“Just like that.”
----
As the sun lowers into the horizon you're back to the beach, golden hues, the waves lapping gently at the shore.
You and Jungkook sit side by side on the sand, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns in it.
His arm rests behind you, his presence warm and comforting. Neither of you speak much, there’s no need to. The silence is peaceful, filled only by the sound of the waves and the distant laughter of kids playing nearby.
Jungkook glances at you, softly smiling. “Feeling better?”
You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Yeah. Today was perfect.”
He presses a kiss to your hair. “Good.”
You both sit there, soaking in the moment, something you never want to forget.
Your attention shifts to the group of kids laughing a little ways down the beach.
Something about their pure, carefree joy makes you smile.
You’re standing up, dusting the sand off your dress.
“I’ll be back.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Where are you—”
But you’re already walking toward the kids.
Jungkook stays seated, watching as you crouch down to talk to them, as they giggle, as you laugh with them.
Watching as your eyes shine with excitement, your hair catching the evening light, your smile so full of warmth it makes something deep inside him ache.
His chest feels… tight, full. Happy in a way that words can’t describe.
You fully immerse yourself in the game they’re playing, running around, helping them build something in the sand, laughing like a child yourself.
Jungkook can’t take his eyes off you.
After a while, you lean down, whispering something to one of the kids.
The said kid rushes toward him, stopping right in front of him with big, excited eyes.
“Your wife wants to know if you want to play with us!”
Jungkook blinks. And then chuckles, shaking his head, completely endeared.
“Wife, huh?” he muses, standing up and dusting off his pants.
The boy nods eagerly. “She said you have to say yes.”
Jungkook sighs dramatically. “Of course she did.”
But he’s already walking toward you, amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Didn’t even spare the kids, huh?” he teases, wrapping an arm around your waist playfully.
You grin up at him. “Nope.”
Jungkook shakes his head, but he’s smiling—smiling so, so much.
For the next hour, the two of you run through the sand, playing, laughing, losing yourselves in the moment.
Jungkook picks up a kid, spins them around, their giggles echoing through the air. You chase another, only to get caught yourself, falling onto the sand in a fit of laughter. And through it all, Jungkook watches you. His heart aching with love, with something deeper, something infinite.
Because this?
This is what happiness feels like.
The walk back to the hotel is quiet, peaceful, your hearts still full from the evening.
As soon as you step inside, you both head to the bathroom, washing off the sand. Jungkook runs a towel through his damp hair, watching as you step out first.
You make your way to the mirror, fingers reaching up to remove your earrings. Jungkook wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.
Your eyes fall to his hand- the matching ring on his finger. Then to yours. You chuckle softly, turning in his embrace.
"Our fake marriage ends tonight,” you tease, holding up your hand.
Jungkook’s eyes flicker, something unreadable passing through them.
He exhales a soft laugh, shaking his head.
“Not yet,” he murmurs, lifting your hand to his lips. “We still have a few hours left.”
His voice is low, filled with something that makes your breath catch.
He kisses you, like he’s memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel, the way this moment exists.
Jungkook’s hands trail down your back, feather-light, deliberate.
You feel the slow unzip of your dress. You shudder, anticipation curling in your stomach, making your breath hitch.
His lips stay on yours, teasing, soft, even as his fingers push the fabric off your shoulders. The silk slides down your arms, skimming your skin before pooling at your feet.
Jungkook leans back slightly, his darkened gaze sweeping over you. His tongue flicks over his lips, jaw tightening.
You feel warmth creep up your neck. “Jungkook…”
A small smirk tugs at his lips. “You’re shy?”
“Shut up,” you breathe.
He chuckles, shaking his head, but his hands are already lifting you effortlessly. You gasp softly as he carries you to the bed, his grip firm, steady.
Jungkook lays you down gently, hovering above you, his fingers gliding over your skin. His lips follow, trailing soft kisses from your collarbone, across your chest, moving lower. Jungkook takes his time. His mouth brushes against your skin, reverent.
His hands map every curve, every dip, every part of you that he wants to claim. You writhe beneath him, warmth spreading through your body, your fingers threading through his hair.
He looks up, his gaze locking with yours, something intense flickering in his eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice husky, thick with emotion.
Heat coils in your stomach, your heart hammering.
Jungkook smirks softly. “Still shy?”
You bite your lip, refusing to answer, but he just chuckles. Jungkook’s fingers trail down your spine, teasing.
His lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking lightly as his hands slide to your back, unhooking your bra with practiced ease.
The fabric falls away, and his hot mouth lashes onto your breast, tongue swirling, sucking, teasing.
A gasp escapes you, your back arching into him. His hand already trailing lower, over your stomach, between your thighs. His fingers press over your soaked panties, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.
Your hips lift slightly, desperate for more. Jungkook smirks against your skin, pushing your panties aside before slipping his fingers through your folds.
His touch is gentle but firm, working you open, drawing soft, breathless moans from your lips.
Your fingers tangle into his hair, tugging. “-kook…” His name falls from your lips, breathy, desperate.
That seems to snap something in him. He pulls his fingers out slowly, making you whimper at the loss. You reach for his t-shirt, tugging at it impatiently.
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. He pulls it over his head, revealing golden skin, hard muscles, the sculpted lines of his chest.
Your hands immediately roam over his torso, feeling every ridge, every flex beneath your touch.
He kisses you again, claiming. As his lips move against yours, you lower your hand, palming him through his pants. Jungkook groans against your mouth, his hips twitching at your touch. Tugging at his waistband, you push his pants down, and he helps, kicking them off.
Your fingers wrap around his thick, heavy length, stroking slowly. Jungkook shudders, his head dropping into the crook of your neck. His hand moves between your legs again, teasing your entrance, feeling just how ready you are.
You grab him, lining him up at your entrance. Jungkook’s gaze meets yours, dark, burning. Your body stretches, molding to fit him perfectly as he pushes in.
A moan rips from your throat, but Jungkook swallows it, his lips pressing against yours. He moves slow, savoring every second, letting you feel everything.
One hand strokes your cheek, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You part your lips, taking his thumb into your mouth, sucking softly.
Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly, his jaw tightening. His pace quickens, thrusts deep and deliberate, every movement pushing you closer to the edge.
Your nails dig into his back, leaving marks that he welcomes.
“I—I'm close,” you whimper, body trembling beneath him.
Jungkook’s breath is ragged, his forehead pressed to yours. “Hold it,” he rasps, his voice raw.
Your body trembles beneath him, every nerve overwhelmed as Jungkook keeps his slow, deep thrusts steady. His breath is hot against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.
Your fingers clutch his back, nails dragging over his skin, and he groans, hips stuttering for a moment. “Jungkook-,” you gasp, legs tightening around his waist.
You whimper, toes curling, mind blurring.
Jungkook leans down, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, swallowing your moans. His thumb trails between your bodies, finding that sensitive spot, rubbing slow, teasing circles.
You arch into him, body tightening.
“Now,” he breathes, voice low, commanding. “Come with me, baby.”
He thrusts deep, hitting exactly where you need him. Your body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, moans spilling from your lips as you fall apart beneath him.
Jungkook groans deeply, burying his face in your neck as his release follows, hips jerking, his body shaking with the force of it.
He holds you so tight, as if trying to keep this moment frozen in time. Both of you pant heavily, bodies tangled together, skin sticky with sweat.
Jungkook stays inside you, his weight warm, loving.
His arms wrap snugly around your waist, pressing slow, lazy kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, anywhere he can reach.
Your fingers tangle in his damp hair, trailing softly, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.
Your heart is still racing. After a moment, he lifts his head, his dark eyes finding yours, heavy with something deep, something endless.
You smile, tired but content. “What?”
Jungkook just stares, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers trace soft, absentminded patterns over your skin, the other still intertwined with yours.
He speaks, softer than a whisper, almost like an afterthought, “Do you want to marry me again after this trip?”
A soft, breathless laugh escapes you. “What?”
Jungkook doesn’t waver. His hold tightens slightly, thumb brushing against your knuckles. A little more hesitant, but still so full of love,
“Do you want to marry me, Y/N?”
The weight of his words settles over you overwhelming and all-consuming.
Your lips part slightly, heart stuttering.
But then you realize something.
You stare at him for a moment, and then, to his surprise, a soft chuckle slips past your lips.
Jungkook’s brows furrow slightly, confused.
“Jungkook…” you murmur, biting your lip, eyes twinkling. “Did you really just propose to me in this situation?”
His ears turn red instantly. A soft groan escapes him as he buries his face in your shoulder.
“Just answer,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin.
Your chest tightens filled with warmth, so full of love you can barely contain it.
Cupping his face, you bite back a bigger smile, your voice soft-
“Don’t you already know the answer?”
Jungkook’s breath catches. He murmurs, softer this time.
“I want to hear it.”
You pull him down, your lips brushing against his as you whisper,
“Yes. I’ll marry you again, husband.”
His breath shudders—something raw, something so full of love it nearly breaks you.
He's kissing you.
Slow. Endless.
Like a promise, like a vow, like something unbreakable. His hands tighten around yours, fingers lacing together.
Genre: a little pwp but a little established something, friends-to-lovers
Summary: Namjoon accidentally sends a text intended for you to your roommate.
Word count: 3.2k
Content: sexting, shower sex, oral (f receiving)
A/N: for @rpwprpwprpwprw for asking if i have more namjoon (and making me realise that, outside of A Fine Line, I have precious little 😭) this is a repost that has been a little edited and re-titled
Coming Clean
“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Yeji repeated over and over as she barged into your room and sat herself on your bed. “Why is Namjoon texting me this?!”
She thrust her phone into your face and you tried to control your expression as you read.
Namjoon: I think I'm going to need a cold shower...
Namjoon: unless you want to join me...
Ok, you thought, could be worse. Wasn't that bad at all, really. Maybe. A bit suggestive, certainly random, but he had some plausible deniability--
Unfortunately, the text was only part of it. Yeji scrolled and your jaw dropped as your eyes lit on a photo that left almost nothing to the imagination. He wasn’t fully naked, but as near as dammit. You could’ve seen his erection from space. The colour drained from your face. You spluttered, choked, didn’t know what to say. And then another message came through.
Namjoon: FUCK
And in a second, both previous bubbles disappeared, replaced by ‘This message was deleted’.
Namjoon: I know you saw that... I can see you read them...
Namjoon: I’m SO sorry
Namjoon: Obviously they weren’t meant for you, Yeji
Namjoon: PLEASE forget you ever saw them
Namjoon: PLEASE
Namjoon: PLEASE PLEASE
Namjoon: I’m so so so so sorry
“Wow,” was all you could choke out.
“WHAT THE FUCK!” Yeji screamed, so close to you that you thought your eardrum might burst. “WHO IS HE SEXTING?!”
The answer was you. Or rather, he was supposed to be sexting you and not Yeji. He had been sexting you recently. Doing a lot more than that, too. You just hadn’t told anyone yet.
It was an accident, really. Neither of you meant it to happen. It just did. There was nothing ground-breaking about it. Same old story: you drink too much and get a little handsy with each other because you’ve secretly kind of always liked each other; then you get more than a little handsy and then you do it again and again and, suddenly, it’s A Thing. A thing you decide not to tell everyone else about. Not exactly Austen or Shakespeare but good enough for you.
You sat on your phone as it began to buzz, hoping to hide its sudden, coincidental flurry of activity. You didn’t need to check it to know that it was Namjoon. You didn’t know why he was calling; you and Yeji lived together: of course she was going to run straight to you with this. Of course you wouldn’t be able to answer.
“I don’t know,” you answered Yeji. “It might just be some person from an app.”
She looked at you sharply.
“Why are you not also screaming?! Did you not SEE what I saw?! Are you MAD?!”
“I saw it! I saw it! But... I don’t know, he’s a grown man; he can sext who he likes.”
“Not without telling us! Ugh, the gossip! He’s depriving us! Besides, wow, who knew he was packing like that?”
You nudged her with a grin, trying to play it cool, frantically kicking your legs underwater to smooth this over.
“Let the man have a couple of secrets, eh? What's the harm? He’ll tell us when he wants to. And I think he probably doesn’t want you to know he’s packing like that. Doesn’t want me to know either,” you added hastily. “He would probably prefer that neither of us had seen that. You shouldn’t have shown me that! He’ll be embarrassed. Just let him have his secrets and his privacy, at least for today.”
“But I want him to tell me NOW! I’m going to reply to him. The interrogation is starting. I will keep you updated, if you even care.”
She was already standing and wandering back out of your bedroom.
“Sure you don’t want to interrogate him with me?” she asked, though she kept walking, knowing you would refuse.
“I’m sure; I’ve got some stuff to work on.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll fill you in later.”
She shut your door as she left and you whipped out your phone.
Namjoon: oh god i’ve done something bad
Namjoon: like really bad
Namjoon: I was trying to text you—I was supposed to send it to YOU
Namjoon: I accidentally sent a photo of my dick to Yeji
Namjoon: she definitely saw it
Namjoon: I don’t know how I get out of this. What do I say? I can’t tell her it was meant to go to you!
Namjoon: Help me
You laughed and pressed dial, hoping Yeji was focused enough on her mission to pay no heed to the sound of your voice in the next room.
“Hey.” He sounded a little breathless, his breathing a little heavy down the phone.
“Yeah, so Yeji just left my bedroom actually. She showed me what you sent.”
Namjoon groaned.
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry; it was just a mistake.”
“But how do we get out of it?”
“I don’t know. I told her it might just be someone on an app; you could go with that. Pretend to have a casual thing-”
“But then if we come out and say we’re... whatever we are, the timeline won’t work-”
You shrugged, alone in your bedroom.
“That’s a bridge we can cross when we get to it. We can just say you lied to keep it a secret.”
“I guess.”
“Seriously, Namjoon, I think it’ll be fine. Yeji will find something else to obsess about soon enough, by tonight probably.”
You were trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince him. You were right, Yeji would find something else to be distracted by. It probably wouldn’t erupt all over your friendship group; it probably wouldn’t get out of hand. They probably wouldn’t tease him mercilessly about it until you abruptly shouted up that it was you, thus revealing everything.
Probably.
It’d be fine.
He groaned again.
“Just such a stupid thing to do. And I’ll tell you this for free: a very effective boner killer, too.”
You laughed.
“So you don’t want me to come over and shower with you?”
“Oh, shit, I didn’t say that. My door is always open to you, you know that.”
You sighed.
“I’ve got a lot of work to do tonight so I don’t know if I’ll make it.”
“Ok.”
“But keep thinking those thoughts, ok?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh and Namjoon?”
“Yeah?”
“Send me the photo?”
*
You didn’t know about Namjoon but you did keep thinking those thoughts. They were driving you to distraction. You had barely read more than a page of your report in the last half-hour. You kept unlocking your phone, looking at your message thread with Namjoon, at that photo. At a certain point, it becomes more efficient to do the distracting thing first and then knuckle down. Get it out of your system so you can concentrate afterwards. It was starting to sound like a very appealing course of action.
You picked up your phone again.
You: have you showered yet?
Namjoon: No, why?
You: Can I come over?
Namjoon: Do you even have to ask?
Namjoon: (that means yes)
Namjoon: please
Namjoon: come now
Namjoon: please
You shut your laptop; Yeji was similarly sequestered in her bedroom so you were able to sneak out without rousing any sort of curiosity. Thank god.
*
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“So about this shower.”
And the door had barely closed behind you before Namjoon was kissing you, pulling you closer, running his hands up your body.
“You really want to shower?” he asked. His voice was low and gruff, his words mumbled against your neck.
You laughed.
“Transparency: I want you to fuck me in the shower.”
He responded by nipping at your earlobe.
“You gonna ask nicely?”
“No.”
He gave your nipple a tweak and you jerked against him, your hips knocking into his, drawing a quiet moan from his mouth. He grinned at you and kissed you firmly.
“That’s my girl.”
Your clothes littered the floor as they were discarded en-route.
“Why haven’t we done this already?” Namjoon asked as he hoisted you onto the edge of the counter. “Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this so much.”
“You’re a shower sex guy, huh? Noted.”
“For you? I’m an anywhere-sex guy.”
Your words were taken from you, from your mouth to his as he pressed his lips to yours and licked into your mouth. You were hot already, even before the shower began to fill the room with steam. That was the thing about Namjoon; he made you so impatient. The mere thought of him had your heart racing. A kiss was enough to get you wet. To make you hot. To have you scrabbling and scrambling to undress him. To have you gasping and moaning before he’d even touched you.
When he kissed you, your mind was wiped clean, a blank static fuzz. When he sucked hard bruises into your neck, your chest, you were nothing but animal. No shame, no overthinking, no insecurity, just pleasure buzzing all over your skin, shivering down your spine, coiling in your guts, pooling in your core.
Namjoon sank to his knees on the hard, tiled floor and kissed your inner thighs. He wrapped his arms around them, pulled you a little closer—you clutched the edge of the counter and his hair for balance—then he licked you, firmly from slit to clit and back again, into every fold and then into your cunt. You weren’t backward about coming forward and, when you had first done this with Namjoon, you had been fully prepared to tell him how to do it, how you liked it. He hadn’t needed the instruction. That first time, he’d had you reeling after a screaming orgasm within a minute.
You didn’t think you’d last even that long this time. Not with his lips around your clit, his tongue warm and wet against it, the soft pressure as he sucked, the harder pressure as he flicked, the feel of his fingers as he rocked them inside you, insistent and unstoppable. He made a mess of you and, moments later, you made a mess of him, coming over his face, your slick dripping down his hand.
He pressed sticky kisses onto your stomach, his tongue laved over your stiffened nipples, his lips pressed softly against yours and then harder, then his teeth took your lip and he bit down.
“So about this shower,” he murmured against your lips, his eyes poring over yours.
You couldn’t speak, could only nod, and he held you steady as you settled your feet back on the floor, your legs still wobbly.
The room was hot now, the water hotter. As Namjoon crowded you against the shower screen, you felt breathless, a little suffocated but you didn’t know if that was down to the steam or to Namjoon. He ran his hands all over you as you kissed, your bodies pressed tightly together, his flushed, leaking dick trapped between you.
Where Namjoon made you impatient, he seemed to have an unlimited supply of patience. He soaped you up, every inch of you, and you realised how intimate this was; it suddenly wasn’t just sex. He was touching your body with a different kind of care and attention now. Sex was imminent but this moment, this moment wasn’t about sex really. He turned you around, gently, running his hands down your back and over your backside, all the way down to your feet and all the way back up. He pressed a kiss to your soapy shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. His lips then found the shell of your ear.
“Baby, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered and a spark rushed down your spine.
You turned your head and kissed him, trying to say with your body what you couldn’t find the words for. And then,
“Can you fuck me now?”
Because your heart may have been gripped tight in the fist of your feelings but your cunt was empty, aching, and much louder.
He grinned, his hands squeezing at your glutes, kneading, then pushing you forward a little, smoothing up your back and along your arms, placing your hands flat on the tiled wall, braced. He held you like that, in suspense, in anticipation, his hands here and there, his lips first on your hip, then the back of your neck, his body distant, then pressed close.
You begged because you had learnt that he liked it. That he liked it when you sounded a little breathless, a little whiny, your voice catching as you asked him, please, please, to fuck you.
“Namjoon... Please?”
You dipped your head, pressing your forehead to the wall, your fingers scratching down the tiles as you continued to clench, your soft, wet walls coming together around nothing. Still.
“Just one more time, baby. Just ask me one more time.”
“Please fuck me. Namjoon, ple- ah, fuck—hnn-”
It was familiar now, the pressure of the stretch as he pushed inside you. You swore quietly again as he bottomed out and dragged backwards, slowly, torturously slowly. He kept a hard grip on your hips, keeping you or him steady or both. The steam swirling around you, the clean, fresh scent of Namjoon’s soap, the water hitting your skin, Namjoon’s lips on your neck as he thrust a little harder now, squeezing past your g-spot, making your legs tremble—it was overwhelming.
You were transported. No longer just in the shower in Namjoon’s apartment. No longer was this just sordid nor was it mundane. It was you and Namjoon. A thing that had lain dormant in you, something you hadn’t seen coming until it happened and then you couldn’t believe that it hadn’t happened before. This was what you had been looking for. Yes, him fucking you, yes, the way he kissed you and the way he knew which buttons to press, yes, his dick hot and heavy on your tongue, thick and slightly curved and fucking you just right. Yes, all of that but more, too.
You had not talked about where this was going, what you were to each other, but now you knew and your heart grew three sizes, straining against the vice of your ribcage, thudding heavily against it, making your head dizzy with a rush of blood.
Namjoon grunted behind you, his breathing becoming laboured. Your name fell off his lips as though it had always lived there. His fingers found their way forward and onto your clit, rubbing in circles that started slow and got faster and faster as you made your way to a second orgasm.
He wasn’t far behind, his thrusts hard and rhythm faltering before he came with a long drawn-out curse. He pulled you backwards, held you tight against his chest and you were grateful for the support, not sure if you could stand.
“As good as the fantasy?” you asked, panting, your head tipped sideways and up to look at him.
He kissed you, deep and slow, making your knees weaker, your hands gripping tight at his arms around your waist.
“Better. Way better.”
You twisted and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you again, pushed you backwards, your body meeting the wall. He sucked on your bottom lip, nipping lightly with his teeth, then he opened his mouth and you rolled your tongue with his, still able to taste yourself on him. You traded kisses, still under the persistent patter of water, still hot and wet and soft against the unyielding tile. Namjoon murmured your name against your lips.
“What should I tell Yeji, huh?”
“Oh, you’re thinking about Yeji right now? Maybe you did send that text to the right person...”
Namjoon headbutted you lightly.
“I’m worried,” he confessed.
“About what?”
His eyes were penetrating as he looked at you, trying to see into your mind, know what you were thinking. He did it when he needed reassurance, when he wished he could be more confident about what he had to say. You kissed him, brushed his hair back from his forehead, touched your nose to his.
“I don’t want to ruin this,” he said, voice still quiet until the rush of the water.
“How is it ruined?”
He shrugged, a small twist in his mouth.
“If people find out...”
You shrugged back, larger and surer than he.
"I never minded people knowing. You were the-”
“No,” he said, pulling back and looking at you quizzically. “What are you talking about? It was you who suggested keeping it a secret.”
“Not at all! It was you!”
“No, it wasn’t!”
“Well, if it was neither of us, then why are we keeping it a secret?!”
You looked at each other, aghast, bewildered. Then you laughed. You kissed his shoulder and he returned it on your temple.
“So should we just tell people now?”
“What exactly do we tell them?”
“That depends on what you want this to be, I guess,” you answered, acting casual as if your very breath weren’t sparkling in your lungs, making it hard to breathe, making the little shower cubicle airless as the two of you screeched up to a subject you’d been so easily avoiding.
“What do you want it to be?”
“I want to be with you. Like, for real. Relationship shit.”
The sigh of relief that came from Namjoon was so large it was almost comical. He kissed you. Wrapped his arms tight around you and moaned into the kiss. “Thank god. Me, too. Me, too.”
“So it’s settled then.”
“Settled.”
You nodded at each other, once, firmly, and then went back to kissing under the water.
*
Later, you sat with Namjoon in his bed, resting between his legs, your back against his chest.
You: btw, Namjoon meant to send that photo to me
Yeji: um
Yeji: WHAT
You took a photo of the two of you, Namjoon’s topless torso visible, your heads close, your smiles respectively bright and bashful. You sent it to Yeji.
You: probably going to keep doing it some more, tbh
You: some more or a lot more yk
When she didn’t reply, you assumed first that she’d had a heart attack. Then that she was busy letting every single person she’d ever met know about the two of you. If you needed news spreading, she was the one to go to.
“So now everyone knows,” Namjoon said, nuzzling against your neck, dropping light kisses against your skin.
“Everyone knows,” you replied, tipping your head slightly to give him better access. “Oh, also,” you said, suddenly remembering, “everyone knows about your big dick, too. There’s no way Yeji kept that back.”
Rating: General (fluff, confessions, general cuteness)
Word count: 1.2k
Summary: After the King of Talokan confesses his love to you, he leaves you with a gift. Reader isn’t gendered, no use of y/n
A/N: this is a birthday present for my absolutely wonderful friend Mika!! Hope you’ve had the happiest of birthdays 🥳
What a strange thing it was to have a god-king look at you with eyes so vulnerable.
"I understand if you do not want to answer me right now. So I will give you this and leave you in peace,” He presented you with a shell, an Atecocolli. It's coiling spine was covered in intricate, raised patterns that your fingers couldn't help but admire. You traced the shell’s spout as he traced your knuckles.
After a long breath filled with salt-dusted sea air, you gathered the courage to look at him again. It felt like staring at the sun. You had no idea what to say to him but thankfully he seemed to understand that.
“Should you ever need me, my love, speak my name into it as you would a whisper in my ear. When you place it in the water, I will be with you as soon as I can."
"How?"
"Your voice will call me to you." He replied, and he looked forward to hearing it.
The king’s body dipped as he brought your knuckle to his lips. His eyes poured into yours as he did it.
He'd never felt more vulnerable than when he confessed his love for you a few moments ago. He tore a cavity in his chest and bore his soul to you, his heart. He asked only that you respond to his confession when you feel ready. So one day, when courage possessed you, you did just that. You raised the shell to your lips, let the fresh sea air fill your lungs, and whispered his name softly, as you would a prayer.
"K'uk'ulkan…” and then let the shell sink into the sand to be taken by the sea.
You could barely hear your own voice over the wind yet it drifted through the ocean - through currents and reefs, past lightning-fast fish and rippling jellyfish tendrils - until it reached the pointed ears of the man you wanted to hear it. He heard it from his place on his throne, seated within a megalodon's jagged jaws. Your voice floated across his sensitive ears like a ghost of a kiss and he sighed in relief and ecstacy at the sound. He adored how you tasted his name on your tongue.
He emerged from the waves and stood before you not long after with the Atecocolli clutched in one hand and his spear in the other. It was then that you were reminded that the man who told you that he loved you was indeed a god. He was built like one, with his broad back, chest and shoulders. His face longed to be immortalised in stone for how strong his jaw was, how beautiful his nose. Seawater stuck silken hair to his forehead, the droplets rolling down his body drawing branches into his skin like veins in marble.
His entire being ought to have been carved from marble but the stone surely wouldn’t do him justice, you thought. A sculpture could never capture the gentle starlight in his eyes.
“Are you alright?” He asked, checking you weren’t calling him for aid. You nodded and he took a breath of short-lived relief. “You have thought about what I said…"
"I have." You confirmed.
"Then I beg you to put my misery to rest,” He pleaded, throat bobbing. No matter what your answer was, he had to hear it.
He handed you back the Atecolli, the shell so large you had to cradle it with both hands. It was an extension of reassurance that even if you didn’t love him back he’d still come to your aid, he’d still keep you safe and visit if you asked.
You hesitated, let the air hang a moment longer and the wind whip through your clothes. He thought that was that - a rejection. He prepared himself to change the subject and bid your farewell so he might wallow in his longing alone. He didn't realise you were simply gathering courage to do something you'd been wanting to for longer than he could possibly imagine a mortal waiting for anything with lifespans so short.
“Do I frighten you?” He asked with eyes so soft they put the sand beneath your feet to shame.
The question confused you. “No,” you answered quietly. “Not at all.”
“Why then do you tremble?”
He was right, you were trembling. Whether it was from anticipation or something else, he couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t escape the sinking feeling that maybe he had scared you and that was why your body shook.
He had never before cared what another being thought about him. He’d never had to. He ruled with dignity and respect for his people and they returned that sentiment. His enemies? He couldn’t have cared less. But you? He cared that the sun shone bright enough for you, that the grass you walked upon stayed green. He cared so deeply about how you perceived him that it scared him at first. But then he realised that he, the King of Talokan, was in love with you. That’s why he cared. As the realisation dawned on him, he’d never felt more vulnerable and so sickeningly human.
"In yaakunech,” your voice broke him out of his spiralling thoughts. I love you.
He stilled and grew quiet for a moment and you worried you'd misspoken or that he was perhaps offended by you speaking his mother tongue. Then his eyelids fluttered closed, guarding the beautiful brown from your gaze. When his eyes re-opened, they watered and his mouth bore a smile so wide it must have hurt.
"Thank you. Thank you." His quivering hand cupped your cheek and leaned his forehead against yours and you stood there just enjoying the ease of which you could be with one another. The warmth radiated off him, cutting through the cool ocean breeze. "You have no idea how I have yearned to hear that from you. Thank you, in yakunaj.”
My love. He called you his love and he meant it with his whole heart. Those words were a promise.
He was half a millennia in age and all around him his loved ones perished with the slow yet inevitable crawl of time. One day he would lose you too as he did all things eventually. So your time together would be short but precious. He was grateful that his longing could end and that you could be together, even if for a little while.
CW: Angst; idiots in love; pining. Mentions of infidelity.
When Richard Muñoz’s next door neighbor moves in, he’s not home to see it. His previous neighbor—an old man of his mother’s generation—had moved away to Florida, and the house had sold quickly.
Pairing: Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN!Reader
Words: 754
Warnings: none!
December Writing Challenge masterlist
“Do you think this is cute?” Richard turned the catalogue that had been placed in his mailbox this morning towards you, a nervous frown creasing his features. You lower the book you were reading, a collection of Emily Dickinson poems, to peer at the page he held open. There were two beautiful models leaning towards each other, mistletoe dangling above their heads as they held a small gift between them. Their bodies were twisted uncomfortably towards the camera to display the clothes they were selling; a pair of matching button-up pyjamas in festive red with gold lining.
“Couples pyjamas?” you asked, glancing questioningly at Richard. He gave a half shrug, cheeks dusting pink in embarrassment as he fumbled with the pages of the catalogue.
“It was a thought, never mind,” Richard mumbled almost incoherently but you heard enough to know he was deflecting from his true feelings. You noticed that with Richard. He was sometimes too afraid to say exactly what he felt. Instead he tested the waters, threw out a suggestion, making out it was only half a thought. But you knew him. And you knew he wanted couples pyjamas.
“I’ll make us a tea,” you suggested, patting his knee comfortingly on your way to the kitchen. You made sure you weren’t observed when you typed the catalogues website into your phone and searched for a pyjama set.
-
Neither you nor Richard wanted to make a big deal out of Christmas this year. You both had a couple of days off and you’d decided to spend it with each other at home, watching holiday movies, eating a wide range of food from both your cultures and settling down in the evenings to play games and read in each others company.
As soon as you were ready to get into your pyjamas, when the sky was becoming dark and the hot cocoa was at the forefront of your minds, you turned to Richard with a content smile.
“I brought you a new pyjama set. Would you wear it for me tonight?” Richard looked at you in surprise. Already beyond grateful for the presents he’d received this morning he couldn’t believe you’d brought him another gift.
“You are much too good to me,” he kissed you sweetly, pulling back reluctantly with child-like excitement in his eyes.
“It’s on the bed,” you said, prompting Richard to hurry up the stairs.
Richard was a careful dresser. He secured every button carefully, tied every lace firmly, positioned collars perfectly. So you knew you had time to ready your final present. You reached over the side of the armchair to retrieve the bag you’d secretly placed there a few days before, pulling out the pyjamas you’d brought that matched the ones Richard was changing into upstairs. They weren’t the exact pyjamas he’d seen in the catalogue a couple of weeks ago but they were just as festive. The fabric was good quality cotton, a shade of light grey adorned with red berries and green holly leaves with a silver lining running along the edges of the collar, cuffs and down the front where pearl white buttons sat. The trousers were the same pattern with a red drawstring waist, the bottoms folded over and sewn. It was a beautiful set that you hoped Richard would love.
You got changed and sat on the couch until you heard his tentative footsteps walking down the stairs. Your heart thumped with both excitement and apprehension. Your breath caught in your throat when Richard turned the corner, his hands nervously flattening the front of the pyjama top over his belly as he looked to you for approval. He was adorable in the pyjamas; the top button was low enough you could see some chest hairs poking over the top, he was walking slightly on the bottoms of the pyjama legs but he’d folded over the sleeves to free his hands. You walked over to hold his hands, giggling softly at how you two must look; silly, but completely in love.
Richard leaned forward to kiss you, underestimating the distance and landing a peck on your nose instead. You didn’t mind, there would be plenty of time this evening for as many kisses as you both wanted.
“Thank you,” he said sincerely with a wobbly smile. You took his face in your hands, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his cheeks.
“It’s my pleasure,” you replied, receiving a toothy grin. “Anyway, I think we look cute.”
Abstract: He thought it’d be awkward. He thought the lie would be too much and that he wouldn’t be able to keep up, that perhaps his shyness would get the best of him, and though he wanted desperately to try for you, he was terrified he’d somehow mess it all up. But he finds himself at ease, a sense of home he’s not sure he’s ever felt before.
Words: 3K
Content: f!reader; fluff, just fluff, fake dating, a little awkwardness, them being down bad for each other, yes it’s november and i’m posting a christmas fic
A/N: is this based on this tiktok i’ve seen months ago and haven’t been able to stop thinking about? yes it is. but moving on - (scene is from doctor who’s christmas special “the time of the doctor”)
also on AO3 - masterlist
feedback is always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
Summary: Steven sends you flowers on Valentine's and sends you into a tailspin. Based on this song by Laufey.
Warnings: friends to lovers with Steven Grant, both Steven and the reader are inexperienced in relationships and essentially have really awkward conversations
A/N: Leslie Knope and Ann Perkins make a brief appearance at the beginning of this for all my Parks and Rec fans! I don't own photos, dividers or characters.
Ann, the office receptionist’s desk, as well as the rest of the office, is filled to the brim with pink streamers, red heart chain links and little teddy bears holding hearts that say they love you. It’s all Leslie’s work, the miracle boss who could transform a whole building level into a Valentine wonderland overnight and still be able to lead the weekly Monday morning meeting with more energy than the whole floor combined.
So, as you’re passing by Ann’s desk for a cup of coffee, you assume that the bouquet of roses was just part of the charade. Because there’s no way anyone but Leslie Knope would buy a bunch of, if you’re guessing, a hundred roses, surely causing a flower shortage in the greater London area.
They let off a dreamlike aroma, as if you’re passing the door to another dimension, where roses rain from the sky and into the rivers. You pause, finger one of the blooms, flit your hands over the delicate baby’s breath lining the border of the bouquet.
“Pretty,” you murmur to yourself.
Ann looks up from her notepad and smiles at you, “They’re for you.”
“Yeah right,” you scoff, leaning in and taking a final breath in of that divine smell. “As if.”
But she barely bats an eyelash, making your heart falter as you look back at the roses and start to seriously consider that she isn’t joking. You feel something nudge your hand, you look down and see Ann holding out a small card for you.
I love you bunches.
Steven.
You turn it around, still blindlessly in hope of some saving grace that will prove it as some sort of running office gag that you had to be at the butt of this Valentine’s day. The florist logo only looks back at you expectantly.
“Ann, where…” The vase is massive to say the least. The flowers are going to take up at least half of your cubicle, leave alone the fact of how you’re going to manage to take this home on the tube. “I can’t take these.”
“Well, you’d better!” Leslie’s chipper voice makes you start. She throws an amicable arm around your shoulders, pulls you into her without preamble. “Because if they’re up for grabs then I call dibs!”
“I uh-” you’re not sure how Steven would feel if you gave his grand romantic gesture away to your boss. Steven loved Leslie, that much was for sure, but that much? You can’t even fathom Steven loving you that much. “I…Leslie-”
“Ah, just pulling your leg,” she pokes your side, winking at you cheekily. Her phone goes off and she starts running towards the elevators with a, “I’m late, I’m late, I’m late!”
You stare at her, stare back at the flowers, stare at Ann. She stares back at you, “Need help getting them to your desk?”
“I…” the card weighs heavy in your hands. I love you bunches. It couldn’t have been anyone else but Steven. “No, that’s alright. I’ll go clean up some papers and I’ll be back.”
“Alright, thanks hun.”
The rest of your workday, you can say for certain, is lost to the wind. As soon as you manage to focus your scattered attention on a document, someone stops at your desk with a, so jealous of you and a lucky lady, reminding you once again of the flowers you’d never really had forgotten about in the first place.
Previous Valentine’s Days were usually spent by yourself, a couple of other single friends at most. You’d sit around, drink some wine and half-watch a rom-com as the rest of the crew cried their eyes out and stuffed their faces with chocolates, lamenting about how single they were.
Steven however, loved love. His apartment could give Leslie’s office a run for her money, what with his pink, superfood beetroot lattes, the paper hearts stuck in the windows and the extra pink knackage in Gus’ tank.
But this?
You turn your chair to get a better glimpse of the flowers.
This was a gesture that was supposed to be exclusively reserved for the Hugh Grant and Matthew Macfadyen primary male love interests. Gestures that make your friends cry and swoon all night long, lamenting about why they don’t make guys like that anymore.
Not Steven.
Your Steven.
Steven Grant that you’d started seeing romantically for a few months at best. This was a gesture so bold and tacky that you wouldn’t peg it to be him had it not been for the note. At least, it seemed a bit much for where you thought you two were together.
Your friendship with Steven had years to grow and flourish, having run into him at the gift shop after an exhausting day with your goddaughter. Your romance with him had had much less time.
It had taken him close to four years to ask you out. He’d rambled and stumbled his way through his sentences on a night where he’d been more chatty and nervous than usual. At first, he was asking you out for dinner, then he’d thought the best of it and said he wanted to go rock climbing. He’d then remembered that his shoulder had been giving him some pain and he was surely the most uncoordinated person out there, so he settled for coffee.
Steven had paused for maybe a second, before he started to correct himself to make sure that you wouldn’t think he wasn’t serious about this, just because he was asking you for a coffee and not dinner. If you wanted, he would take you to dinner, he had no qualms about that either, it’s just that he didn’t want you to think that he was too serious about this either. He loved and valued your friendship, above anything else in his life, and should love not work out for the two of you, then he’d want to still stay and friends and-
Finally you had cut him off, took his hand in yours to make him calm down a little and had said that coffee, dinner or even rock-climbing sounded nice. That you’re scared of what this might mean for your friendship, but you’re willing to give it a try.
Turns out taking a gamble on Steven was the best choice you’d ever made. Now that he had your full permission, he let loose all the bottled up, puppy-like energy he’d discretely expressed in little chunks. It’s a little overwhelming at first, having him not only listen to you looking at you like there was nothing more important in the world, but to also have his hands wander anywhere they wanted, making your head dizzy and fingers jittery.
You can’t imagine going back to a life pre-Steven. A life where he wasn’t there to quiet down your screams as a fly flew from one side of the flat to the other, with Steven hot on its tail until it was chased out the window. A life where, after closing the window, he’d turn to you, breathless and sweaty, and say, “That ought to take care of it, love.”
In two seconds flat you were in his arms, kissing him as if he were life itself.
Two weeks into your relationship he told you he loved you.
He’d done it at a movie night over at your place, a weekly tradition that hadn’t been broken with the change in your relationship. On habit, you’d drenched the popcorn in caramel. Without a second thought, you pull out a bottle of Irn-Bru, a Scottish drink, a favourite of his from the fridge.
“Oh, you’re amazing!” he’s grinning wide at you, his whole face lighting up when you press the toxic orange-coloured drink into his hand. “Oh, I love you!”
When he’d made no move to take back what he’d said, to chalk it up to a long day at work, you pointed it out to him.
“Did you mean that, Steven?” you swallow thickly, your hands suddenly sweaty. “You don’t have to, we can pretend it never happened.”
“Mean what, love?” His glasses are on, his left hand already sticky with sugar, his other holding the remote as he scrolls through the options.
“That…” the words feel heavy and foreign on your tongue. There’s a strange feeling blossoming up inside you, one that you’ve been trying to tamper down for a while now. “That you love me.”
“‘Course I do,” he says it as if he’s saying that he needs more vegan dark chocolate if you happen to pop by Tesco after work. He looks at you and smiles, half-munching on a mouthful of popcorn, “Don’t gotta say it back or anything, really. Just thought you’d like to know.”
Truth be told, you’d never been in love. Ever. There were faint infatuations and obsessions that you went through in your life, if the layers of movie posters in your childhood bedroom had something to say about it. When you were older there were a couple of crushes that disappeared the moment they asked you out. Every time love had the faint chance of approaching you, you’d knocked it down. Had kept the walls around your heart tight, though you peeped in through the gaps and briefly fantasised about what would happen, should you let someone in.
But Steven had already passed through the walls of your heart, had his own corner filled with his niche books and oversteeped, cold cups of forgotten tea. So, when he started to return the subtle affection that was growing inside you, your last line of defence had faded away and you were left with a strange feeling inside you instead. Weird. You felt weird. Steven made your heart flutter in palpitations that almost sent you to A&E, concerned that you’d had a heart attack.
The feelings return that same night when halfway through the movie, he turns to you and tells you that he not only loves you, but thinks that you’re very pretty as well.
You weren’t sure what to say back. Thank you seemed too self-absorbed, and Steven had scolded you enough times for you to know that denying the compliment would be worse. He’s looking at you expectantly, and you know that if you don’t say something soon he’s going to burst out in his nervous ramblings again.
“You’re-” maybe it’s not the right thing to say “-you’re pretty too.”
“Why, thank you, darling!” He bites his lip, chunkily leans in and brushes his lips against yours in a sticky kiss, smelling of Irn-Bru and love.
So, though you had no doubt about how much Steven loved you, and how much you’ve grown to care for him in return, you couldn’t wrap your head around his over-the-top, tacky gesture today. Because the rest of your relationship hadn’t been necessarily tacky and over-the-top, and Steven, at least you thought, preferred to love you openly under the soft glow of the TV, behind cracked book spines and barely-there kisses. He shied away from loud noises, from praise and comments about what a lovely couple the two of you were, and turned red if your hands strayed to his lower back.
The workday ends, though your despair about the flowers doesn't.
Steven, on habit, is waiting for you in the lobby, his coat unbuttoned to reveal his appropriately matching, heart-scattered pink button down, his hair an unruly mess. He’s grinning as if he hadn’t sent you in a tailspin regarding the very essence of your relationship with him.
His hug, as always, engulfs you. He leans the majority of your weight into him, presses his face into the side of your neck to murmur, “Happy Valentine’s, love.” Hours spent in his arms feel like seconds. In Steven you feel you’ve found your other half, your missing piece, the pearl to your oyster. He pulls away too soon, holding you awkwardly by your shoulders before he lets go and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “How was work?”
“Good,” it surprises you that he still hasn’t brought up the rose garden he’d had delivered this morning. “I was distracted all day, however.”
He pouts, “And why’s that?”
Leaning up, you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger and shrug non-comitantly, “How was work?”
“Fine,” you’re hoping he’ll take the bait and go off on a tangent about the new exhibit he’d started exploring on his lunch break, tell you how he’s going to take you to see it over the weekend. “I was distracted all day, however.” He grins when you realise what he’s done and start to hide behind your hands. “C’mon darling,” he gently prys your hands away, ducks his head until you catch his eye. “Didn’t you like the flowers?”
“I did,” it sounds so shaky and unsure you repeat it over once more for yourself. “I did, really I did, Steven.”
“But…” he’s fidgeting with the edge of his shirt, eyes flickering away and back to you in nervous movements that resemble a butterfly.
“It took me by surprise that’s all,” you smile, tracing the edge of his eyebrow, following the line to tuck a curl behind his ear. “I didn’t think you were the type for grand romantic gestures.”
“I’m not,” his eyes are sparkling. “But, you’re my Valentine, love, that’s what a Valentine is for. Grand romantic gestures and the likes, yeah?”
Valentine. How did your Steven turn into your Valentine overnight? “I’m your Valentine?”
“Well, at least I’m hoping you are. You are, aren’t you?” He scratches his neck awkwardly, looks down at his shoes and shuffles his feet together, and back out like a penguin.
“I’m-” you reach for his hand and intertwine your fingers together, giving him a comforting squeeze. “I guess I am.”
So many aspects of your new-found love with Steven feel childish, like they belong back in your school days with the harsh eyes of the librarian chaperoning your every move on the gym floor. At times, like right now, holding hands in a semi-crowded lobby filled with your co-workers, it feels just as taboo as it would if you were eleven.
You decide you like navigating this dance with him, finding stable ground in an earthquake and holding on to each other like nothing else matters in the world.
“Oh!” His face lights up as he goes digging through his bag and pulls out a pink-coloured box and a couple of other papers from work. It sends the both of you to the ground, him rambling on about his horrible lack of balance, knocking heads as you come back up. “I got these too-” he holds the chocolates out for you “-for you. Happy Valentine’s. ‘Course I told you that already but, ya know, thought I’d say it again. Chocolates n’all.” He averts his eyes away from you and back to his hands.
“Steven,” you don’t care that he doesn’t look back up. That it isn’t the moonlit, romantic confession you dreamed about giving to your dreamy prince as a child. “Steven, I love you. And not because of the flowers or the chocolate. I just, I really love-”
The chocolate box drops from your hands, spilling out truffles onto the floor. You don’t pay it any mind, what with your Valentine’s lips on yours, making your head spin and your heart beat erratically.
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought of it, it means the world to me! Masterlist here.
pairing: santi garcia x reader
word count: 576
a/n: cs prompt challenge, week 2: “i miss you. i miss you so much it hurts.”
~ turning a sad prompt into something cute and fluffy with cuddles | read on AO3 here~
The afternoon sun shone through the bedroom window. You’d woken from your nap a while ago, but was content to stay where you were for the rest of the day. It was the weekend anyway, and you didn’t have any other plans.
The bare chest you were laying on moved steadily with his breaths and your cheek rested against a part of his gold chain, probably making some indent on your face, which it often did.
Santi’s fingers ran up and down your back lazily. “I think I need socks.” His voice was abrupt in the silence and it made you jolt. You groaned, dissatisfied, and made an ‘uh uh’ sound in your throat. He just chuckled, “Yep. Need em.” all while he tried to slide out from under you.
Summary: You wake up in the night and watch Steven sleep.
Pairing: Steven Grant x reader
Warnings: Fluff (like lots of it)
A/N: its my first fic! Loosely based on an idea i had weeks ago, let me know what you think!
Steven Grant couldn’t clean his apartment for shit.
Decked in dark décor, his apartment was filled with piles and piles of books, each one towering higher than the previous, his beloved one finned orange fish, Gus and some vintage furniture that you’ve seen him use occasionally. The brown hardwood floor was scattered with letters and dirty laundry and you were pretty sure you had seen him push his muddy shoes deep under his bed. Despite being the biggest homebody, it looked like Steven was rarely home.
The condition of his apartment would have really bothered you, if you weren’t so busy staring at his sleeping frame.
Warning: established age gap relationship, romance, fluff, 18+, explicit content, soft SMUT, fingering, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie
Summary: Conversation has always flown smoothly with Nico, you can talk for hours and discuss about the most diverse things, jumping from one topic to another, completely unrelated one. And that’s what happens; your conversation starts on the topic of flowers, until it suddenly switches and settles on one of the most fascinating subjects according to the both of you: the greatest mysteries of mankind. (word count: 2.1k)
Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ❤️
A/N: so this fic idea invaded my brain the exact moment I saw the trailer of “House comes with a bird”, and it has been on my mind ever since. Huge thanks to @lovesbiggerthanpride and @softpedropascal for the cheering 💜 P.S. Not beta or proof read, so all mistakes are my own!
The late afternoon light illuminates the empty room, its pale streaks filtering through the large windows and landing across the floor.
It’s the first time you and Nico are alone in your new home; the purchase agreement has been signed only a couple days ago. A little renovation here and there needs to be done, but you’re really looking forward to moving in and starting a new life.
“Come with me.” he says as he takes your hand, leading you to the other side of the room.
He sits on the floor and gently pulls you down with him, making you lie down.
“Cold?” he asks as he removes his jacket and folds it; he places it right beside him and lies down on his back, head turned in your direction.
“Just a little.” you reassure him, extending your left arm out and lacing your fingers with his own.
Conversation has always flown smoothly with Nico, you can talk for hours and discuss about the most diverse things, jumping from one topic to another, completely unrelated one. And that’s what happens; your conversation starts on the topic of flowers, until it suddenly switches and settles on one of the most fascinating subjects according to the both of you: the greatest mysteries of mankind.
“According to Plato, Atlantis was located at the Pillars of Hercules, which marked the Strait of Gibraltar at the entrance to the Mediterranean.” he begins; he sounds like those narrating voices you hear on the National Geographic’s TV channel.
“That was... the place beyond which there was the so called “great unknown”, right?” you ask him as you play with his hand, tracing its lines with your index finger.
He nods. “The legend tells that the people of Atlantis ruled the Mediterranean. They were the most powerful naval empire at that time.”
You gently let go of his hand and turn to lay on your side, resting your head on the palm of your hand. Nico gazes at you for a moment, and the look you give him in return makes his heart soar.
“But they made the wrong decision to take on the Athenians.” you continue, and place your other hand on his abdomen, right atop of his.
“Exactly.” he nods, pleasantly impressed. “But Athens defeated them. And, as if that wasn’t enough, the island of Atlantis simply sank into the sea, never again to be found.”
All of a sudden, you start to giggle, and Nico regards you with an amused expression.
“How... how did we even end up talking about Atlantis?”
He sighs and pulls you closer, until your body is pressed against his. “I have no clue.”
“Love.” you murmur. “I wanna talk about the mystery of Love.”
“The mystery of Love.” he repeats, staring at the pale ceiling.
“What is Love, Nico?” you ask him as you caress his face.
He thinks in silence for a moment, you can almost hear the gears in his brain turning in search of an answer.
“Love is... similarity, propinquity, passion, need.” he tells you, eyes still glued to the ceiling. “Love is you.”
“But Love is a universal mystery. It can’t be me.” you say; your gentle caresses coming to a halt.
He finally gazes at you, his brown eyes searching your own. “This is where you’re wrong, my dear. Love can be you, love can be me. Love can be... everyone.” he sighs as he brings one hand to the small of your back. “As you said, Love is a universal mystery. But there isn’t a universal answer to unveil that mystery.”
You let his words sink in for a moment while you nuzzle his neck: white musk, laundry detergent and his own scent wrap around your whole body, making you lose track of time.
“Speaking of love,” he begins as he slowly strokes your back. “I wanna put a fireplace over here. Make love by the fire.”
You lift your face from the crook of his neck. “Really?”
Nico nods firmly. “Really.”
×××
The room still smells faintly of wall paint, but there’s another scent, something woodsy. And a warmth that intensifies with every step you take.
“Don’t look, not yet.”
“Nico, please.” you huff. “The anticipation is killing me.”
“Just one more step and then you can open your eyes.”
You follow his instructions, and when he taps your hand, you open your eyes and the widest of smiles spreads across your face.
There’s a beautiful fireplace covered in tiles that match the ones on the floor; the crackling fire provides a gentle warmth and a dim light, creating the perfect cozy ambience.
Nico wraps his arms around your middle and rests his chin on your shoulder, turning his head just slightly to start peppering sloppy kisses all along your neck.
“Do you remember what I told you I wanted to do by the fireplace?” he mouths against your skin, licking it with his tongue.
You try to suppress a whimper, but to no avail. “I d—do.”
Your answer is what makes him groan, and he turns you around in his arms before bringing his mouth on yours. The kiss starts off slow and sensual, but turns more and more heated the moment he gains access to your mouth. Your tongues glide against one another as his hands roam your sides and cup your ass, squeezing it greedily.
“Want to make love to you, beautiful.” he pants into your mouth before taking a step back to remove all of his clothes.
You watch him in awe, and your fingers start to work on your own dress, undoing all the buttons until it slips down your form and pools around your feet. You get rid of your bra and panties, and you don’t even realize you are crouching and laying on the carpet until you legs hit its fluffy surface.
Nico kneels on the carpet and crawls his way to you, settling in between your legs. He takes a moment to look at you, to take in how ethereal you look right there underneath him, with your body illuminated by the fire.
“My beautiful girl.” he whispers as he nuzzles his way up your abdomen, from your belly button to your sternum.
“Nico, I—”
“Shhh,” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Relax and let me take care of you.”
You feel his right hand cup your mound, two of his thick fingers sliding up and down your slit, already wet and slick for him. He reaches your entrance and pushes them into you, slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling, until he gets knuckles deep. You moan against his mouth, and it’s the hottest, most intimate thing he has ever heard or seen or felt.
You grab onto his broad shoulders, nails digging into his tanned skin and leaving crescent shaped lines there, among his many sun freckles.
“Te amo.” he whispers as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of you; he dips his head, his mouth hot against your breasts, and he begins to lick and suckle on your peaked nipples, closing his eyes at how sweet your skin tastes, a perfect mix of your favorite perfume and shower gel.
You feel his cock brush against your inner thigh, its weeping tip leaving a trace of precum on your skin, which spreads when Nico grinds against you a couple of times.
“Baby, please.” you beg him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Hard. He’s so close but not enough; and it’s becoming unbearable.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect. Una diosa.” he tells you, and you love it when he speaks to you in Spanish during moments like this.
His fingers leave your pussy and roam across your naked body, touching your breasts, your sides, your arms, your legs. Every single part gets treated with the utmost reverence, similar to the one with which a renovator would approach a priceless work of art.
Words of praise fall from his lips, he declares all his love for you by saying how much he wants you, how you make him go crazy, how he thinks about you every second of his day, how young and carefree you are compared to him. You get wetter by the sound of it.
Sitting on his heels, he positions his hands under your knees and spreads your legs wide, admiring with parted lips the glistening sheen at the apex of your thighs. It’s a sight he will never tire of looking at, it makes him smile smugly and proudly. And it makes him as hard as a fucking rock.
Nico stays like that for a whole minute, eyes fixed on your soaked core as he lazily strokes his cock; you bring your own fingers to your pussy when you grow impatient, but he immediately grabs your wrist and rests it on your abdomen, keeping it in place with his hand.
He knows you’re craving him by the way you’re pouting right now, so he has no other choice than to succumb and give you what you desire.
Notching his cock at your entrance, he studies your face in search of signs of doubt or discomfort, and when he doesn’t find any, he pushes it in. Your wet warmth envelopes him like liquid silk, draws him in and keeps him right there. He throbs, you moan, and it’s the prettiest sound that has ever graced his ears.
Closing his eyes, he stays like that for a moment, trying to calm down and even out his breathing as to not come right then and there. But you feel good, too good, and he doesn’t know if he’s gonna resist for long, not when you make him feel this way.
It’s heavenly, Nico feels like he’s suspended on a cloud of pure bliss, and he could die right in this instant and consider himself the luckiest bastard on planet Earth.
You call his name and he opens his eyes, slowly, just like he does when you give him good morning kisses on Sundays. His eyelids are heavy with lust, his eyes shining with want as the fierce colours of the fire reflect in his brown irises.
When he withdraws his hips to pull out, you whine at the loss of him: you feel empty, lifeless for an instant. But when he thrusts back in, a shiver runs down your spine, making you moan his name.
“I’m he—here,” he groans as he bottoms out again, hissing when you clamp down on him. “I love you.”
“I… love you.” you mewl and then moan when he starts to push into you at a slow pace, admiring the way your eyes flutter closed when he hits that delicious spot inside of you.
He pushes your legs back and picks up a steady rhythm, burying his cock deep into your pussy until the air gets punched out of your lungs. Every thrust brings you closer to the edge, every sweet nothing he murmurs in the crook of your neck makes your heart swell with all sorts of soft emotions for the man in your arms.
You cup the back of his head, fingers carding through his soft hair as he increases his pace, desperately trying to bring you both to the finish line of ecstasy. He turns his head to the left and brushes his nose against your cheek, mouthing a few unintelligible words in Spanish, until his mouth finds your own and captures it in a passionate kiss that makes your legs weak.
The weight of him on top of you makes you feel protected, and when you tell him that he’s making you feel good, Nico pulls away from your mouth and shudders: it’s like electricity has gone through his whole body, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes.
He finds the strength to thrust a couple more times, and then he’s coming, painting your walls with thick ropes of his milky seed as he cries out your name. Name that he repeats like a mantra as he keeps on moving, ignoring the ache from over stimulation that almost hurts him, until he brings you to your own ecstasy.
He feels the moment you flutter around him, how your hips lock into place, how your legs tremble and spasm; he sees the blissful look on your face, how your lips part to call out his name, how tears gather at the corners of your eyes and spill down your cheeks, mixing with the sweat on your face.
He wonders if he’s in a fantasy right now, but it all turns out to be real life when you lace your fingers through his own and squeeze his hand gently.
“You.” you murmur once you catch your breath.
He looks down at you, one of his eyebrows raised in question.
warnings: NSFW 18+ (minors DNI), age gap relationship (pedro is his current age, reader is in their twenties—if you don’t like it, don’t read it!), mentions of alcohol/marijuana use, public makeout vibes, public oral m/receiving, over all cute vibez
words: 3.6k
next chapter
song inspo
The hot summer breeze travelled through the hole-in-a-wall bar you and your friends came to every Friday night without fail, the owner a frugal elderly man who refused to purchase a functioning air conditioner. The heat wasn’t much of a problem, though, or at least not anymore. You’d gotten acclimated the more your group began to frequent the tiny spot, learning to wear less so that you could stay out longer. Tonight’s outfit was proof of your evolution, a tiny pair of old Levi jeans that you cut into shorts last summer and hand-crocheted halter top the only thing keeping you modest. Your friends were all dressed equally scandalously as they stood scattered across the room, except for your closest friend, Andrew, who remained firmly planted beside you.
“It’s extra packed tonight. I wonder where all these fuckers came from.” He leaned his elbow against the bar counter beside you, looking out on the tiny dance floor, laughing at two of your male friends slow dancing with two elderly women to a honky-tonk love song. You turned around to watch the spectacle, letting a chuckle fall from your lips as you shook your head at them.
“They’ll never be able to listen to ‘Baby Blue’ again.” You turned back to the counter and lifted your Corona bottle to your lips, taking a gulp of the cold beer in attempt to cool yourself down from the inside.
“Why aren’t you out there, yet? It’s unlike you to be so well-behaved.” He glanced down at you, watching as you gave him a mocking look.
“I’m avoiding making a fool of myself tonight.” You spoke quietly, subtly gesturing down the bar at the handsome mustached man who sat in a group of couples, all alone. Andrew followed your gesture until he saw who you were pointing to. He surprised you with a boisterous and sudden laugh, making you whip your head over to glare at him. He covered his mouth and shook his head, red from his amusement. “What? Go on and say it.”
“Y/N, you know I love you, right?” He began, giggling as he watched your head tilt and scowl grow. “But he’s a bit old, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.” You mocked and sipped your drink before subtly glancing over at the man, shocked to see him looking back. You choked on your beer and turned your back to him, choking and coughing as you faced Andrew. He only furrowed his brows at you as you attempted to breathe, making you shake your head.
“Oh shit, he’s coming over. Do you need a mint? Of course you do. Fuck, where’s Sarah? She always has mints.” He began searching his pockets in panic, making you laugh hysterically, still not completely able to breathe. “Fuck! He looks rich. Alright, listen. I can’t help you, but you’ve got this.”
“Wha—where are you going?” You asked in a laugh, holding your hands out as you watched him scurry off to one of your friends.
“I didn’t mean to scare your friend off.” You heard a new voice from behind you, just a hint of an accent woven into his words. You took a few quick breaths before turning around, giving him a playful smile.
“Do you want me to call him back for you?” You asked, wanting to test the waters in case he was interested in Andrew instead. He smiled at you widely and shook his head, his eyes looking deeply into yours. You had to look away, the intensity mixing with the alcohol, causing a bright red flush to cover your cheeks.
“I didn’t come over to talk to him.” He shrugged and took a seat beside you, gesturing for you to join him. You gave him a skeptical grin as you pulled the metal barstool across the linoleum tile, sitting down beside him in silence. He kept his grin on the entire time, glancing down at the table as he ran his fingertips over the scratches in the wood. “I’m Pedro.”
“Hi, Pedro. I’m Y/N.” You slid your hand off the table and held it out for him, watching as he chuckled before shaking it a few times.
“You have a very pretty name, Y/N.” He nodded and looked away again, seemingly losing touch with his earlier confidence. His bashfulness didn’t faze you, though, since you never had a problem with being direct.
“Do you want to know why I was staring at you?” You asked, leaning forward a bit as you adjusted your knees to connect with his. He lifted his eyes back to you and nodded, a smirk on his lips as he tilted his head. “I was trying to figure out why you were all alone. You’re a good looking guy—“
“That’s what my mom always said.” He interrupted with a grin, shocking you at his playfulness.
“Why’d you come over?” You decided to ask, watching as Pedro lifted himself off the counter and sighed. He shook his head with a grin before exhaling a breathy laugh.
“Because I’m a flirt, or at least I used to be.” He tilted his head back and forth as he used a mocking tone, making you chuckle at his child-like personality, not at all what you were expecting. He carried himself so casually, not seeming to take life too seriously. “I didn’t realize you looked like that! But you do and now I’m shy.”
“Are you ever not smiling?” You changed the subject again, eyes glued to his lips as he widened his grin, a laugh slipping out.
“You’re intimidating.” He confessed after a moment, laughing at his own internal panic as you managed to keep your “cool” facade up. “What are you doing in an old-man-bar like this? Aren’t you supposed to be at the club or something? Or is this the new thing amongst your generation?”
“Yeah, we all have just decided clubs are creepy and dive bars are in.” You quipped sarcastically, earning another authentic laugh. You shrugged as he continued to watch you, reaching for your beer to have another sip. “No, my friends and I just like coming here because it’s usually so empty that we get the whole place to ourselves.”
“Smart. Clubs are creepy.” He lifted his beer to clink with yours, the two of you maintaining eye contact as you took a sip. His bottom lip glistened from the beer as he set his bottle back down, his tongue sweeping over it. “Wait, I’m not being a creep, am I? You can totally just spit in my face if I am.”
“No, you’re not. I’m probably the creep for gawking at you all night.” You watched as he gave you a smitten grin, his eyes darting across your features. “I’m just going to be direct and tell you that I think you’re so hot.”
“Tu hablas español?” He asked in a lower tone, making a grin appear on your face as you nodded. “Quieres salir conmigo a fumar un porro?” [Do you want to come with me to smoke a joint?]
“Sí.” You replied simply, watching as he smirked and stood up, holding his hand out for you to take. He walked you to his group of friends, leaning down to whisper into his very familiar looking friend’s ear. His friend glanced back at you with an amused smile and whispered something to Pedro, giving you a bit of anxiety. You let go of Pedro’s hand, causing him to look at you as you stared off into space, trying to calm your nerves.
“Y/N, está mi amigo, Oscar. Él es mi guardaespaldas está noches.” [Y/N, this is my friend, Oscar. He’s my bodyguard tonight.] He brought your attention back to him as he gestured for his friend, the bearded man smiling and waving at you. You quickly placed not only Oscar’s face, but Pedro’s as well. Giving the familiar actor a kind smile, you felt your skin grow hotter as Pedro slipped his arm over your shoulder, letting it dangle as he more openly chatted with his friend. “Nosotros a vamos afuera a fumar.” [We’re going to go outside to smoke.]
“Tener cuidado. No te dejes arrestar.” [Be careful. Don’t get arrested.] He warned Pedro with a kidding look, glancing at you again before turning back around. Pedro let his arm drop from your shoulder, his warm palm ghosting over the skin of your shoulder blade as he pushed the back door of the bar open.
“Do you normally get up to a lot of trouble on your nights out?” You asked with a smirk as you both stood under the yellow street light, Pedro pulling a joint out of his shirt pocket and lighting it. His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled deeply, your eyes studying the way his brows furrowed and forehead creased. He handed you the joint and turned his head to exhale the smoke so that it didn’t hit your face.
“No,” He drew out his response with a grin, taking his turn watching as you puffed the joint with ease. “I just like to run off without telling anyone.”
“Mm, is that all?” You asked sarcastically, a smirk playing on your face as you leaned back against the brick wall. It was such a hot night that even the brick around you offered no cooling relief, the wall still warm from basking in the summer sun all day.
“What about you? Are you a troublemaker?” He asked, closing the gap between you a bit as he stepped closer. Though there was still plenty of space between you, you felt a flush form on your cheeks at the feeling of being pinned to the wall by him. Pedro reached up and stroked a fallen strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear as he tilted his head at you.
“I’ve been known to…spice up the night.” You jokingly played down your reputation, making him chuckle as he continued his intense study of your face. You chuckled and looked down at the pavement beneath you, feeling the effects of both substances you’d taken in tonight. It was a sinful combination, alcohol and weed, and it only made you want to do naughty things to the beautiful man in front of you. You lifted your eyes back to his and licked your lips, hooking your fingers into his belt loops and pulling him flush against your body. Pedro’s free hand cupped the back of your neck as you pressed your lips against his, but the kiss felt hesitant on his part. You quickly broke away from him, panting as you turned your head and pushed him away gently.
“Did I…did I do something?” He asked with laced brows as you avoided his stare, stomach turning as you began to feel like an idiot. “Y/N?”
“It didn’t seem like you…wanted to.” You finally responded, looking back to him as he chuckled darkly, looking into the distance while taking a drag of the joint. You scoffed at his amusement, standing up off the wall and reaching for the door handle to the bar. “Asshole.”
“Princesa, no.” He grabbed your hand and quieted his amusement, giving you a mixture of a pleading frown and a grin. “I only hesitated because you’re so much younger than me. I just don’t want to come off wrong.”
“I’m a grown woman fully capable of deciding who I want to fuck.” You sassed, rolling your eyes at him. Pedro gave you a look of surprised delight at your attitude, his smile returning as he silently drew you back into his charm. You sighed and let go of the door, slipping your arms over his shoulders. Pedro smiled as he slipped the joint between your lips, leaning down to kiss your neck as you took another hit.
“You want to fuck me? Hm? Did I hear that right?” He mumbled against your skin as you breathed out the smoke, a dark chuckle slipping out of your mouth along with it.
“Is that what I said?” You smirked at your own coyness before feeling his hands grip on your ass. You gasped and giggled at the sudden aggression, watching as Pedro lifted his eyes to meet yours, smiling as he studied your response to his action. “Do you want to fuck me, Pedro?”
“More than I want to admit.” He joked as he leaned in to your lips, his arms traveling up to your waist to hold you in a tight embrace. This was the kiss you expected from him—hungry, passionate, and almost painful. You felt more desired than you’d ever felt as his lips worked against yours in a series of sloppy motions. Pedro pulled away from you, resting his forehead against yours as you caught your breath. “Fuck. I keep forgetting we’re in public.”
“Who cares?” You asked, your hands reaching up to your neck to untie your crocheted top, letting it fall to your waist as you exposed your breasts to him in the open night air. Pedro’s lips parted as his eyes remained glued to your breasts, his head shaking. You bit your lip as he looked back to your face, a grin growing on his lips as he shook his head at you.
“Who cares…my publicist, for sure.” His words contradicted his actions as he reached to palm your breasts, his thumbs stroking your sensitive nipples as he leaned back in to kiss you just once, licking his lips to taste you. “Come with me to my place tonight.”
“Hmm…I think I’ll need a preview, first.” Your fingers unbuttoned his jeans as you kneeled down to the pavement, looking up at him with innocent eyes. Pedro’s lips were formed in an ‘o’ shape as he watched you unzip him, skillfully taking out his half-hardened cock while never breaking eye contact. “Can I taste you?”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want with me, baby.” He stroked your face as you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his thick head, your hand pumping his shaft as you bobbed and sucked leisurely. You weren’t trying to make him finish, you more-so wanted to…feel him out. “Fuck. You said I was trouble…you’re going to be the death of me.”
“Y/N!” Your intimate moment was interrupted by the door flying open, Andrew drunkenly stumbling in on your very vulnerable moment. He quickly covered his eyes and turned around, walking into the brick wall. “Shit. My bad!”
“So close. Just a step to the right.” Pedro contained his laughter as he guided your friend to the doorway, all while helping you up off your knees and tucking himself away. You buried your face in Pedro’s chest, more embarrassed than you’d ever been. He rubbed your back and soothed you as he giggled at your friend finally making his way back into the bar. Once you were alone again, he lifted your head up from his chest, grinning at your embarrassed pout. He lifted your top up to cover your breasts and spun you around so that he could tie it back up, snickering every now and again.
“That was mortifying.” You groaned as you turned back around, resting your forehead against his sternum. Pedro lifted your head with a finger on your chin and smiled down at you, completely smitten.
“Come home with me.” He asked again, his voice soft. You nodded in silence, a grin on your face as he leaned down to give you another brief but sultry kiss. “Let’s go back inside for a while. Make our rounds before we run off together.”
“Wouldn’t want Oscar Isaac coming after me.” You joked as you laced your fingers with his, your free hand holding onto his bicep as you walked in like a couple. Pedro kissed your forehead as you both separated to say goodbye to your respective friend groups. Oscar whistled for your attention as you began to walk off, smiling at you widely and giving you a friendly wave. You waved back and gave him a smile, accidentally catching Pedro seemingly gushing about you to Oscar and his partner. When Pedro saw that you were watching, he blushed and rolled his eyes, flipping you off.
“Hey, Y/N, come back!” Oscar called and you chuckled, walking over to the group. You stood across from Pedro at the table, giving him a quick smirk before looking at his friends. “Are you a murderer?”
“Excuse me?” You chuckled at Oscar’s question, watching in amusement as Pedro’s head fell to the table in embarrassment.
“Answer the question, kid.” He jokingly questioned you again, making Pedro groan dramatically.
“Uh, no. I’ve shown little to no signs of murderous tendencies.” You raised your hands in defense, smiling at Pedro as he lifted his head, smirking at you in a mixture of amusement and pride.
“Hmmm, define ‘little’.” Oscar stroked his beard and studied you, but you couldn’t help laughing.
“I am a reformed insect killer, but that’s about it.” Pedro laughed at your response, clearly too into you to care about the embarrassment of how protective his friend was being. “I promise, your boy is in safe hands.”
“Mmhm,” Oscar squinted as he watched you leave the group and go off to find your own finally. He leaned over to Pedro as you passed behind them, whispering. “She’s funny.”
“Oh, ho ho ho ho! You naughty girl.” Andrew squeezed you close as you walked up to your group of friends all finally gathered at the same table. You squirmed free from his grasp and swatted his stomach.
“Sucking dick in an alley?!” Your friend, Sarah, yelled in a whisper, making the group laugh. You covered your face and shook with laughter, embarrassed by the way they were hooting and hollering in the small bar. You glanced behind you at Pedro across the room. He quickly looked away once he saw you’d caught him watching you, grinning to himself as he tried to play it off. You turned back to your group with a smitten grin, flipping your hair.
“And I’m leaving now to go fuck him.” You wagged your finger at the group before flipping them off. “See ya later, bitches.”
“Be safe! Text me and shit!” Andrew called out as you practically skipped over to Pedro, slipping your hand into his back pocket and earning his attention.
“Ready?” He smirked down at you and you nodded, waving goodbye to his friends before leaving the hot bar together.
Pedro quickly ordered an uber as you stood outside together in front of the bar, a comfortable silence falling over you. With a click, he locked his phone and slid it into his jeans before looking over at you, that same cheeky grin on his face as he reached his hand out across the distance between you. “Come here.”
“What’s in it for me?” You grinned and accepted his hand, being pulled into his arms.
He was so warm, and although it was a hot night, you couldn’t keep yourself from wanting to snuggle closer and closer to his body heat. He smelled clean, a hint of a warm and spicy cologne lingering on the material of his shirt as you rested your face against his chest. Pedro began to sway you to the slow and muffled beat of the music inside the bar behind you.
“Are you trying to get me to slow dance with you?” You mumbled against his chest, feeling his laughter rumble.
“Yeah.” He replied simply, bringing a grin to your face. It seemed as though you had no say in the constant smile he had you wearing, though you didn’t mind in the slightest. “Are you going to break my heart, Y/N?”
“Yeah.” You mimicked his earlier response, making him laugh again, this time lifting you off his chest so that he could look at you.
“If you come home with me, I’m not just going to fuck you like you deserve,” He began, suddenly changing the mood to a more lustful and heavy one. He grabbed your neck and held you tight as he leaned to ghost his lips over yours as he spoke, a half-smile on his face. “I’m also going to treat you right…just like you deserve.”
“Oh yeah? Gonna let me stay the night and cook me breakfast in the morning?” You asked in a joking tone, watching as he squinted at you in confusion.
“Do the boys you normally fuck treat you so badly that you’re amazed by that?” He asked, unintentionally making your center throb. You stared up at him speechless, only watching as his look of confusion turned into an amused grin. “I’ll cook you breakfast…if you take care of lunch.”
“I’m so attracted to you. This is ridiculous.” Pedro laughed at your confession and pulled you back in to his embrace, kissing your forehead. You didn’t know what it was about him that was driving you so crazy, but every single thing he did and said made you want to fall into him and never recover.
“Let’s try and make it to the house.” He chuckled as he walked you to the car that pulled up, verifying the driver before climbing in the backseat with you. You cozied into his side as the car set off for his house, the music just loud enough to drown out a quiet conversation between you two.
“Not to be that girl, but…and I’m not expecting anything serious from this…well, I wouldn’t mind it—“ You struggled to word your thoughts properly, getting interrupted by your new lover.
“I’m not a one-night kind of guy.” He responded simply, lifting your hand that rested on his thigh up to his mouth and kissing it. “I like you, Y/N. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Okay.” You exhaled a chuckle and lifted your head, locking eyes with him before he grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. You held onto his wrist as you both made out at a leisurely pace, not in any rush. The night ahead of you was long, and you had a good feeling that this was only the tip of the iceberg between you two.
summary: pedro takes you to the after party and inadvertently makes you a little bit jealous, pure smut ensues
warnings: NSFW 18+ (minors DNI), alcohol consumption, lil bits of jealousy, tipsy!pedro, oral (fem receiving), fingering, edging, exhibitionism?kinda?, daddy kink!pedro (bc obvi), language
words: 3.3k
a/n: it’s 3:30 a.m. and in celebration of reaching 300 followers, i just wrote this little bit of smut in about an hour. if it sucks, that’s surely why!
Pedro, Pedro, Pedro. It was like you couldn’t move an inch within the palace of your mind without bumping into some piece of him. You felt silly, perhaps even a bit obsessive, but you couldn’t help your devotion to him, not when he looked like that. Not when he looked at you like that.
“Need a beer?” He smiled at you and bent over, placing his hands on your knees as you sat in the corner of the club. You were never a club kind of girl, but this was the after party for TUWOMT, and you weren’t missing this for anything. You reached to hold his face in your hands pinching his cheeks and watching as he closed his eyes, his smile growing wider.
“I’m happy just watching you be happy,” You replied in a smitten tone. It wasn’t often that you and Pedro showed PDA like this, but tonight it felt appropriate. It was as though this film finally proved to him that he finally made it, never quite allowing himself to feel successful before.
“Dance with me,” He practically was begging, and the sight alone was compelling enough to get you to do whatever he asked. You nodded, putting aside your shyness, and placed your hands on top of his. He grinned like a child and held them, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You giggled as he pulled you in close, his strong arms holding your waist and his face nuzzled into your neck. You could feel him smiling against your skin as he placed one chaste kiss to your pulse. “Thank you,”
“You’re going to have to lead,” You warned as he lifted his head, his chin having to tilt down so that his eyes could meet yours. His hand patted the small of your back before he let you out of his embrace, settling to hold your hand as he walked you to the dance floor.
He so easily adapted to any environment he was in, making friends and charming anyone who came close to him. You weren’t such an extrovert yourself, but for this man, you’d be anything. His body swayed to the rhythm in front of you, his eyes creased from his wide grin as you began to dance with him, your arms reaching to cross over his shoulders. He placed his hands on your hips and guided your movements to match his, the two of you starting a little bachata on the dance floor. As he leaned in to kiss you, someone tapped on his shoulder, preventing his lips from ever touching yours.
“Pedro,” You both broke apart to look at the intruder, smiling when you locked eyes with Tiffany Haddish. Pedro pulled her in for a hug and kissed her cheek, and although you knew their interaction was only friendly, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit insecure. Still, you urged him on with a smile and nod as she pulled him into the middle of the dance-circle, the crowd immediately shouting his name.
You grinned at him having his moment, his joy so authentic that it could be felt across the entire bar, the room coming alive when he smiled. As you watched the pair dance, you decided perhaps you did need a bit of liquid courage if you were going to rival his current dance partner. You turned and walked to the bar, smiling at the bartender and ordering three shots of tequila—if you were going to let loose tonight, you were going to let loose. The woman smiled as you hyped yourself up to take the shot, gagging as you lifted it to your nose.
“Let me get you a lime and some salt. It makes it a whole lot easier,” You nodded and accepted her gift of advice, sliding the plate of limes closer to you and reaching for the salt. You licked the back of your hand and then poured the salt over it, taking a deep breath before downing the gold liquor. You shivered at the harsh taste, your face contorting before going back to its normal state.
“Without me?” A familiar and very welcome voice sounded from behind you, his large warm hands sliding around your hips. You leaned your head back against his chest and chuckled, already feeling the warmth the alcohol brought on. Pedro reached around you to the counter and picked up a shot for himself, you following suit and turning around. “No lime, no salt…and I dare you to not make a face.”
“Not possible,” You chuckled and pulled him closer to you by his belt. “Is this a challenge? Does that mean I’ll get a prize if I succeed?”
“I was hoping you were going to get a surprise tonight regardless, but that’s a surprise that might only last, I don’t know, five minutes?” He joked and you rolled your eyes, chuckling at him. “Name your terms, partner.”
“If I make a face…” You thought about what it was that you truly wanted in this moment, and it was sinful. So sinful that you weren’t sure your golden boy would be up for it, but now that you were sufficiently tipsy, you found yourself asking regardless. “If I make a face, you get to take me into that fancy private restroom and watch me drop to me knees for you.” Pedro’s smile faded from one of amusement to one of approval, his eyes flickering to your lips, the lights of the club dancing over your lipgloss.
“And if you don’t?” He asked, his voice lower and quieter, a tone only meant for you to hear. Your eyes dropped to the ground and a toothy grin spread across your face as you thought about your ideal prize, the notion alone enough to make you wet.
“If I don’t make a face, I get to pull you in there and watch you drop to your knees for me.” He shook his head and grinned at you admiringly, his eyes coming over your entire face as though to confirm that you weren’t a dream. “Deal?”
“Deal,” He clinked his shot glass against yours and downed his drink quickly, going first to make sure he studied even the slightest twitch on your pretty face. He raised an eyebrow at you and smirked, nodding his chin up slightly as though to challenge you. “Go on,”
“Never rush a lady, Pascal.” You jokingly scolded as you felt your stomach flip with butterflies, your body not at all excited about the little game you found yourself in. With a deep breath, you locked eyes with your lover and tossed the liquid back. It took every fiber of your strength not to gag or shudder, and you very nearly had it…that was, until the last minute when your eye betrayed you and twitched. Pedro pointed his finger in your face and laughed, watching as you dropped your head in defeat, allowing yourself to fully shiver over the taste now that you’d lost.
“Hah! Oh, it feels good to be a winner!” He gloated and turned around, lifting up his jacket to further show off his behind as he twerked against you, making you toss your head back in laughter.
“Go Pedro, go Pedro!” The crowd around you seemed to be watching his every move again, making you grin proudly at your little star. He stood upright and blushed at the room before turning his eyes to yours. You gasped at the suggestiveness they held, something you were sure would be looked over by everyone else, but it lit a fire deep within you. He leaned in to your ear, his lips and beard grazing your earlobe as he spoke.
“Go into the restroom. I’ll be in there in a few minutes.” His voice was so deep you thought you might fall to the floor right then and there. You nodded and did as you were told, slinking off to the private restroom at the end of the long, darkened hallway.
It was fancy, with hand towels nicer than you owned stacked in a pyramid by the large vanity. It looked almost like a master-bathroom to some luxury penthouse, spotless and fresh-smelling. To be fair, you would’ve done the deed in any establishment in any state as long as it was with Pedro. You locked the door and walked over to set your clutch down on the velvet loveseat across from the mirror before walking over to the sink, touching up any bits of makeup that moved over the course of the night. You washed your hands and decided it couldn’t hurt to freshen up down there too, so you wet a towel and lowered it to your center, feeling like a true party girl for once in your relatively short life.
Knock, knock, knock.
You jumped from the rhythmic sound of knuckles against the door, taking the wet cloth and tossing it into the laundry bin under the sink. With a quick breath, you stepped over to the door and cracked it open, Pedro leaning against the doorframe and sliding in past you.
“This is nice,” He nodded in approval before turning around and pinning you against the door, his lips finding yours with ease. You were caught off guard by his sudden shift in demeanor, but quickly melted into his touch as he pinned you by the hips to the door with his hands. “God, what did I do to deserve this…”
His hands moved to grip your ass through your dress, making you moan against his mouth, your head falling back against the door with a thud. He kissed and nipped at the skin of your jaw and collarbone as he kissed any place you exposed to him, the heat in your center becoming unbearable.
“I think we had a deal,” He spoke in that voice, the one he used to find his Mando voice, and you sank down to the ground immediately. He cooed at you as you eagerly undid his belt, shaking his head and pulling you over to the sofa. “The deal can wait. I want to taste you, baby.”
“Fuck,” You sighed out as he practically threw you onto the plush couch, his knees hitting the tile as he spread your thighs apart, your mini-dress riding up to sit at your hips. He looked you in the eyes as he hooked one arm around your thigh, his fingers reaching into the small amount of fabric covering your modesty and pulling it to the side. He wore a sinful smirk as he leaned in, his tongue flat as he swiped it over your folds, your head falling back against the couch at the sensation.
“What’s…the reason…for your sudden…exhibitionistic desires?” He asked between licks to your center, making your brows furrow as you stared at the sight. You blushed and smiled bashfully, your fingers raking through his hair. “Tell me,”
“I maybe was…a little jealous.” You sighed and rolled your eyes as he looked smug between your legs, his finger taking you by surprise and curling into your heat. Your smile went away and your jaw dropped as he pumped it in and out, curling up as he went.
“Jealous? As though there’s anyone else in the world I’d want to be with besides you…” He hummed as he lowered his mouth back onto your center, flicking his tongue over your bundle of nerves until he felt your thighs begin to shake, then he pulled away. You whined at the loss of contact and he grinned, kissed your inner thighs, your wetness already saturating his beard. “Hmm? What was that?”
“Why’d you stop?” You groaned and tossed your head back, irritated at the build up and lack of release. His lips kissed their way back to your folds, making you moan at the relief they brought.
“Shhh, baby. Gonna get us caught.” He warned and began flicking and sucking at your swollen bud, your thighs shaking and hand placed over your own mouth to catch your moans. His finger and tongue moved together in rhythm as your walls began to spasm, signaling your building climax. “Mm, cum for me, baby girl. Come for daddy,”
“Oh, fuck…” You whispered your praises as your face contorted into a look of pain, though it was the furthest from how you felt. Your body felt like it was lit on fire and covered in ice simultaneously as you came against his mouth, your hips moving to grind against his nose as he nuzzled it against you. “You…next…”
“I think we’ll save that for when we get home.” He kissed your legs as he closed them, standing up and plopping down beside you on the couch. “I already called the driver. They’ll be here any minute.”
“You’re a god.” You praised and felt him cackle beside you, his shoulders shaking you as you sat flush with his body.
“I’m just a man…with achy knees now. Thanks to you.” He patted your thigh and stood up, holding a hand out for you to take. You slapped yours against it and grinned, allowing him to lift you up and walk you to the vanity. His fingers combed through your hair and admired your done-up face with a toothy grin, proud of the flush he brought to your cheeks.
“Am I still pretty?” You asked, and watched as his eyes locked with yours, his head tilting down at you.
“Are you still pretty?” He asked in a sarcastic tone, rolling his eyes. “Calling you ‘pretty’ is like a fucking insult to how…breathtaking you are.”
“Okay, PP, damn.” You clutched your chest dramatically and fanned your face, making him laugh and roll his eyes. “A yes would have cut it, my boy.”
“I’m no basic bitch, my darling. Now come on,” He tapped your ass lovingly as he turned you around. “Let’s get out of here so you can pay up.”
