you don't mind
you don't mind
pg-13
one shot: 781 words
What's there to mind about him?
an: this is so random and I don't think it makes sense at all, so you know. this is somewhat connected to "i'll smoke what you sigh". I kind of liked writing this, so yepp~
The both of you run down the streets of some city, adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins and you basked in the feeling. You like feeling like this. Being reckless and feeling freedom, there's nothing else that you can wish for.
You look at him as you two pause in a dark alley, the only light illuminating you two is the one far from you, flickering on and off. You smile at him, smile that beautiful smile that makes him lost just for a tiny bit and dazed off into some unknown world in his mind. You don't mind, you never mind. What's there to mind about him?
Nothing.
Nothing 'cause he's the one supporting you. Your heart, your soul, your all. Funny how you sound so dependent on him right? But you aren't the only one.
You're his everything. The reason he run away from home, the reason of his smiles, the reason of his motivation to play. You're his reason.
So you two depend on each other, leans on each other, cries together, laughs together and probably will die together.
You don't mind. You'll never mind. What is there to mind if you're with the most important person in your life?
Your life has been such a mess before he stepped into it and made everything alright. He taught you your love for music. Your singing was encouraged by him. Your bass playing was all his work, with a bit of yours, of course. You're nothing without him. You know that, he knows that, everybody probably knows that.
But you don't care. You let them know with a smile that you're with him. That you would never question anything he does because it's all for you. He told you this before and repeated it a million times through ragged breathes and warm sweaty skin.
He'll whisper an “I'm yours. You're mine. I live to love you.” and you'll repeat what he says between moans and groans until you arch your back and screams his name in ecstasy.
Now, now you're standing in a dark alley with him, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers on his messy hair. He pulls you closer, encircling your waist tightly with his muscular arms as he attached his lips on the juncture of your neck. Breathing synchronized, you feel his fingers tap, tap, tap on your spine, playing notes of an unknown song that you can't decipher.
You like the feeling of his fingers everywhere, but the most amazing is when he plays his imaginary guitar against your warm skin, a song blooming into the surface which would be one of the hits. He composes while being with you, his mind probably divided into two, half for you and half for his new song.
That's what he's doing right now, only this time, he's humming too, humming while he trails kisses along your neck to your collarbone. You tilt your head and grips his hair tighter, making him hiss. He stops humming and bites a patch of your skin hard, a strangled moan escaping out of your parted lips. He pushes you against the wall harshly, your back arching in pain. It hurts, hurts like hell and anyone would've hit him right now, but you, you've been through worse and what he does is okay, is fine because it reminds you that he's the only one that can make you feel like this. This feeling of being alive.
You moan his name as he rocks his hips against yours, creating friction through both of your jeans that has seen better days and crashes his soft lips into your own soft ones, tongues entangling quickly. You can feel his hands slipping under your leather jacket to your shirt and hisses at the coldness of his hands against your skin when he grips your waist roughly.
He pulls away from the kiss, telling you to “moan my name, seung” as he rocks his hips against yours in a more fast pace. Your reply was to pull him closer, sticking your body against his as you moan a “junhyung, shit” out of your sinful lips. When he again bites your neck, this time harder and breaking the skin, you cursed out all the curse words you know while he soothes the wound.
But you don't mind. You'll never mind. What is there to mind if it's the one you love who's doing it to you?
Nothing.
Because in the end, you'll think that “he's yours, you're his and you live to love each other” which is one of the things you hold on to.
FIN.
pg-13
one shot: 781 words
What's there to mind about him?
an: this is so random and I don't think it makes sense at all, so you know. this is somewhat connected to "i'll smoke what you sigh". I kind of liked writing this, so yepp~
The both of you run down the streets of some city, adrenaline rush pumping through both of your veins and you basked in the feeling. You like feeling like this. Being reckless and feeling freedom, there's nothing else that you can wish for.
You look at him as you two pause in a dark alley, the only light illuminating you two is the one far from you, flickering on and off. You smile at him, smile that beautiful smile that makes him lost just for a tiny bit and dazed off into some unknown world in his mind. You don't mind, you never mind. What's there to mind about him?
Nothing.
Nothing 'cause he's the one supporting you. Your heart, your soul, your all. Funny how you sound so dependent on him right? But you aren't the only one.
You're his everything. The reason he run away from home, the reason of his smiles, the reason of his motivation to play. You're his reason.
So you two depend on each other, leans on each other, cries together, laughs together and probably will die together.
You don't mind. You'll never mind. What is there to mind if you're with the most important person in your life?
Your life has been such a mess before he stepped into it and made everything alright. He taught you your love for music. Your singing was encouraged by him. Your bass playing was all his work, with a bit of yours, of course. You're nothing without him. You know that, he knows that, everybody probably knows that.
But you don't care. You let them know with a smile that you're with him. That you would never question anything he does because it's all for you. He told you this before and repeated it a million times through ragged breathes and warm sweaty skin.
He'll whisper an “I'm yours. You're mine. I live to love you.” and you'll repeat what he says between moans and groans until you arch your back and screams his name in ecstasy.
Now, now you're standing in a dark alley with him, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck and tangle your fingers on his messy hair. He pulls you closer, encircling your waist tightly with his muscular arms as he attached his lips on the juncture of your neck. Breathing synchronized, you feel his fingers tap, tap, tap on your spine, playing notes of an unknown song that you can't decipher.
You like the feeling of his fingers everywhere, but the most amazing is when he plays his imaginary guitar against your warm skin, a song blooming into the surface which would be one of the hits. He composes while being with you, his mind probably divided into two, half for you and half for his new song.
That's what he's doing right now, only this time, he's humming too, humming while he trails kisses along your neck to your collarbone. You tilt your head and grips his hair tighter, making him hiss. He stops humming and bites a patch of your skin hard, a strangled moan escaping out of your parted lips. He pushes you against the wall harshly, your back arching in pain. It hurts, hurts like hell and anyone would've hit him right now, but you, you've been through worse and what he does is okay, is fine because it reminds you that he's the only one that can make you feel like this. This feeling of being alive.
You moan his name as he rocks his hips against yours, creating friction through both of your jeans that has seen better days and crashes his soft lips into your own soft ones, tongues entangling quickly. You can feel his hands slipping under your leather jacket to your shirt and hisses at the coldness of his hands against your skin when he grips your waist roughly.
He pulls away from the kiss, telling you to “moan my name, seung” as he rocks his hips against yours in a more fast pace. Your reply was to pull him closer, sticking your body against his as you moan a “junhyung, shit” out of your sinful lips. When he again bites your neck, this time harder and breaking the skin, you cursed out all the curse words you know while he soothes the wound.
But you don't mind. You'll never mind. What is there to mind if it's the one you love who's doing it to you?
Nothing.
Because in the end, you'll think that “he's yours, you're his and you live to love each other” which is one of the things you hold on to.
FIN.