⇢ summary: shall i sleep within your bed and hold your hands upon my head till i breathe my last breath?
⇢ wc:710|warnings: hickeys |also unbeta-ed coz we die like (wo)men.
⇢ genre:isrisquéfluff a thing? (pg:17)
⇢ pairing: namkook (mxm)
⇢ a/n: happy birthday @eternalseokjin.ily dean, thanks for having my back always ❤
Jungkook firmly believes he is displaying all the stealth in the world as he softly shuts the bedroom door behind him. The lump on the bed covered by a too thick furry blanket doesn’t twitch, and he tampers down the urge to pat his shoulder on a job well done.
Navigating the room in the dark is second nature to him by now, creeping inside in the middle of the night only to curve beside the sleeping lump, waking up hours later to tangled limbs and a strong arm coiled around his waist.
A step or two away from the bed and he can smell him, the subtly sweet fragrance of freshly washed hair, a hint of his detergent’s scent in the air and Jungkook smiles at the feeling of homecoming it all brings forth.
quick satosugu drabble from Geto’s POV | Ao3 Link or read below;
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The cardboard at the window has come away and daylight feathers in from where it flaps like a piece of dead skin. I called you last week, drove out here to meet you. And now here you are, standing in the doorway. You look the same as ever, white hair reaching down your forehead to meet dark glasses concealing eyes that shed light on those parts of myself I hide in shadows.
I slip my slick palms down to my pocket, pull out a thin cigarette and take a long drag in hopes that my hands will cease their shaking. Are you shaking, too? You give me that look. The one I’ve seen a hundred times only now it brings a hint of bitterness to my mouth and I wish I could spit it out. I flick the ashes onto the stained carpet.
“What? Not going to kiss me now?” I say.
The floor creaks as you move closer and I think I’ve gotta get out of here. Move on. Shed the ghost of you and us like snakeskin and let the earth reclaim those memories. Your arms are welcomed around me, pulling me in and my heart drops like an anchor to this moment and how your lips feel on mine, tongue like honey swimming in the sea of my mouth.
I’m praying you don’t hate me.
You smell of expensive cologne as I slide down your body and when I take you into my mouth it’s a choirs song that escapes your lips and I think its as close to heaven as I’ll ever get. When you move behind me you let my hair down, press your face into the crescent of my neck and breathe me in. I don’t know whether to feel despondent or delighted. My nerves vibrate at a frequency that has my ears screeching static, drowning out the sound of my breathless gasping as you enter. It’s a familiar aching, one I’ve longed for, and it leaves me bending like a reed in your wind.
We move to the beat of some cosmic drum, bringing damp sweat to our bodies and heat to the air. Your hands read me like a map and I’m desperate to know you, too. I pull you closer, until I can’t take any more of you and I know you think it’s still not enough. It will never be enough. Not even when you fill me with all the things you cannot say.
I roll over. It’s quiet and I need another cigarette but my limbs are stuck and I watch the dust dance in the crack of light above. There’s an electricity in the air, like the feeling you get before a storm and I don’t know when it’s coming but I know it will blow away the foundation we’ve built between us. I’ll ignore the sirens warning, watching as the heavy clouds roll in and shroud my life in darkness.
NANAMI is heavy with body worship. He can’t help it, really. You’re just too beautiful to him, inside and out, for him not to. Nanami kisses your hands, and arms, and neck, and chest, and stomach, and thighs, and calves. His hands caress every inch of your body as he slips into a rhythm, leaving little hickeys on your least favourite parts. And he can’t shut up about how beautiful he finds you, panting out moans and sweet words of ecstasy between every, “You’re so beautiful,” and, “I love you.” He kisses your scars and stretch marks, licks little heart shapes around every blemish and imperfection, massages his thumb over your angles, and curves, and edges. He holds you so, so close and reminds you that you are his moon and stars, his little earthly goddess who somehow chose a mortal like him, and he wouldn’t change a thing about you. Nanami and body worship✨
