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pastshadows · 4 months

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Shadows of the Past

Chapter 4: Magic and Mischief

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 7K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [not in currently posted chapters; possibly upcoming - I haven't decided] Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions.

You hear the beating sound of wings, and your bed lurches, causing you to drift in and out of your trance. Your eyes flutter, but you continue to bob between the waking world and your meditative state. Pressure on your chest pulls at the edges of your trance, and it crumbles down around you. You groan in lamenting protest at the intrusion on your rest. You urge your eyes to open and see Tara’s round green eyes staring down at you. Her little face is twisted in a fuming scowl.

“Your vampire is in a petulant mood this morning.”

That’s nothing new.

You stifle a yawn, “What do you mean?”

“I was hunting a mouse in his room, and he hurled a pillow at me! The audacity!”

Better a pillow than a dagger, I suppose.

Blinking, you rub the sleep out of your eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Oh yes, he was far too slow.”

Your still half-asleep mind processes her words sluggishly.

Too slow…

Wait.

Too slow?

A swell of unease tightens your chest, causing your heart to palpate sporadically, and worry creases your forehead.

What did she mean by too slow? Astarion was never slow. Unless…

“I’m sorry he did that, Tara. You might want to consider his room a no-hunting zone. I will speak to him.”

Her tail sticks straight up, and her ears pin back, “Be sure you do. That kind of boorish behaviour will not be tolerated.”

She jumps off your bed with a furious huff and skitters out of your room through the small opening of your door, where she no doubt let herself in to apprise you of the vampire’s ill-mannered behaviour.

Too slow…

Tara’s words echo, reverberating off the boundaries of your thoughts. The only time Astarion was too slow was when he was hurt or starving, but he had seemed fine last night when he came to check on you. Without the daylight from the windows streaming in, it’s hard to discern what time it is, but it can’t be much later than early morning.

He typically isn’t even awake this early.

You slip out of bed in a flurry and slip your housecoat over your nightwear, tying it tight around your waist. You trot down the long, dim hallway. The wooden parquet flooring creaks under you, and your heavy footsteps echo off the walls. In your rush, you don’t even bother to light the candles to illuminate the space.

You knock on his door lightly, “Astarion?”

“Go away.”

His voice is unusually tense, bordering on strained. Your perception strikes like lightning, awakening all your senses in a sharp trill of foreboding alarm.

He doesn’t sound like his usual cavalier self.

“Astarion, what’s wrong?”

“Please, just go away.”

Something is very wrong.

“No. I’m coming in.”

Swinging the door open, he scowls at you in a haunting grimace, “I said GO AWAY.”

Did he actually just yell at me?

Astarion had shouted at you before, but not often with such a pointed edge of malice tingeing his voice. If you were not so worried about him, it might have given you pause, but you shrug it off without much thought. Astarion would never hurt you.

Well… not physically or purposefully, at least.

The darkness obscures your vision, and although you can naturally see in the dark to some extent, it limits your ability to see details.

You whisper a cantrip, and fire combusts from your palm, forming a bright glowing sphere that hovers and revolves as if you were holding a small star in your hand.

Astarion barely reacts to the sudden emittance of fire. His eyes squint slightly at the unexpected bright light, and he looks from the fire to you with an unspoken query.

Narrowing your eyes, you peer at him observingly, studying him. His body is taught. All his muscles are tense as if he’s ready to fight. He trembles so violently you can practically feel him vibrating the air around you. His jaw is clenched hard, making the muscles in his neck protrude unnaturally. His eyebrows knit together in a frightening expression that makes your hair stand on edge.

He closes his eyes with a grimace and struggles to make himself appear relaxed, but you can see his knuckles strain and tremor under his death grip on the door. His other arm is bent behind his back, and even though you can’t see it, you know it’s clenched in a tight fist as he battles with himself.

“Darling, please, leave me be.”

You recognize this look. When you had first entered the Shadowlands, you had been so focused on trying to find a way to survive that horrid curse that no one had clued into the fact that there were no animals in this place for him to eat. Astarion never mentioned it to anyone and instead had suffered in silence until you found him in the furthest corner of the camp one night, away from everyone.

You toss and turn on your bedroll. The shadows of this place whisper and taunt from beyond the light that keeps them at bay. The corruption here is strong. It leaves you feeling unsettled, making slipping into a meditative state almost impossible.

Walking around camp as quietly as you can, you check on your friends, hoping it will ease some of the anxiety you feel. You mentally check them off in your head as you walk around.

Shadowheart. Gale. Wyll. Karlach. Lae’zel. Halsin. Scratch. Owlbear cub.

When you get to Astarion’s tent, he’s not there, and you look around the camp, confused for a moment.

Did he go hunting?

But how would he survive the curse?

Wait… What would he even hunt? Nothing survives the curse here, which means even if he could go hunting, there’s nothing for him to eat.

Fuck! How could I have been so blind?

You jog around but refrain from calling out to him. The others need their rest. You had been travelling through this damned land, fighting off all manner of creatures, and everyone was exhausted.

“Withers, where is Astarion?”

You pray the answer out of his mouth isn’t a demand for coin to cleave soul to body once more, but he simply points to an obscured area at the furthest edge of the camp.

You take off in the direction Withers is pointing in a hurry. As you turn a shallow corner, Astarion finally comes into view. He’s lying on the ground, curled up and writhing on the spot. His arms crossed over his stomach, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead creased in the unmistakable grimace of agony.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You skid down and fall to your knees beside him, reaching for him, but he lurches away like a coiled spring, finally snapping free from the pressure.

“Stay away from me.”

“Astarion…”

He snarls at you like a wounded animal trying to protect itself from further harm. His mouth is set in a hard line. His jaw clenched so hard he can barely speak, teeth grating together with such force you can hear them rasping.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?”

“Who’s counting?”

His voice shakes, tinged with a pain you’ve never heard in it before.

“How long, Astarion?”

“A ten-day, give or take a day, or two, or three. Time itself stills in this place.”

“Hells! Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Not important!? You are important! You should have said something!”

You bare your neck to him, “Here, feed on me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no? You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

“You need your strength. In this place, everything is hungry.”

“Don’t be foolish!” You chastise him, “I… I need you.”

You haven’t yet told him about your feelings for him. They remain a secret, sitting uneasily and unspoken in your heart.

“I said no.”

“Please don’t make me do this, Astarion. I’m begging you.”

He shakes his head at you, his arms wrapped around himself as he trembles like a leaf in the wind.

You sigh, “I’m sorry. You leave me no choice.”

The last thing you want to do to him is take his agency away from him, but he cannot go on like this. He can barely speak, let alone continue travelling through this cursed land. You won’t, can’t, allow him to perish here.

With a quick maneuver, you unsheathe his dagger from his hip and slice a deep gash into your wrist. Blood rushes, gurgling out of the wound, dripping onto the dirt. Breath hisses from him harshly as his eyes focus on the bleeding cut.

You bring your wrist close to his face, “I need you, Astarion. Let me help you.”

His eyes dart to yours before he gives in with a growl, and his lips wrap around the bleeding slash. You can feel him draw your blood from you in large gulps. He moans low in his throat, and his body starts to relax, bit by bit, limb by limb.

You can feel yourself start getting lightheaded as he siphons your life out of you. Your skin starts to cool and pale, and your eyes feel heavy. Your heartbeat starts to slow to a feeble thump.

With a snarl, he throws himself back, detaching from your hemorrhaging wrist. Bright red blood is smeared on his lips and dribbles down the sides of his mouth.

He looks at you with alarm in those vibrant scarlet eyes and scrambles back to you. Astarion grasps your wrist tightly, elevating it above your heart. You waver slightly on your knees and then fall backwards into him, eyes fluttering towards him.

“Do you know how stupid that was? I could have killed you!”

He’s angry with me.

“I trust you, Astarion.”

He growls, “You shouldn’t.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of things. It’s never stopped me before. I don’t see why it would now.”

His eyes bolt to your wrist. Despite his death grip putting pressure on your wound, blood is seeping out from his hand, gliding smoothly down your arm, painting your skin red.

“You cut too deep.”

“I’m fine, just a little tired.”

You close your eyes and float.

He jolts you, “No, wake up!”

“It’s okay, Astarion.”

You’re cold, you drift, and you feel your consciousness slipping.

He bellows, “SHADOWHEART!”

Astarion tries to swing the door shut on you, but you slam your hand into it with a loud thud, causing the fire to vanish instantaneously. Scowling defiantly at him, you push past him and barge into his room. The door rattles violently on its hinges as he slams it behind you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He seethes.

His room is dark, and you hurl fire into the fireplace, lighting the room in a warm glow.

You turn on him savagely, “You’re hungry, nearly starving by the looks of you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

He sighs loudly, “I may be a tad hungry.”

“A tad? Look at you! You’re trembling all over.”

You reach out to him, desperate to comfort him, but he backs away. Dropping your hand, you let your eyes dart to the floor so he won’t see the crestfallen look in them.

Why does he always hide things from me?"

“Haven’t you been hunting?”

“Of course! Well… I’ve tried.” He groans, “This damn city is too large and entirely too noisy. There isn’t exactly a ton of food readily prancing about.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I… I’ve visited enough pain upon you.”

Oh, for the love of… Not this bullshit again.

“I am not a child, Astarion!” You roar, “How do you ever expect us to work if you keep treating me like some wounded babe that needs coddling?”

The harsh look on his face lightens, “Us?"

Did I just say us?

You sigh, “You need to stop hiding things from me. I want the truth from you, even when it hurts.”

No more running.

"If you can do that, we will see if there can be an “us” again in the future.”

Astarion runs his hand over his face, “As you wish, my dear. I will endeavour to be more open with you going forward.”

“Good. Now, come with me. You need to eat. You’re grumpy.”

He laughs, “Grumpy, am I?”

“Very grumpy.”

Taking his hand, you lead him to your room and close the door, locking it behind you. You light the candle on the dresser with a whispered cantrip.

“How long has it been since you ate?”

“Oh, not too long.”

“The truth, Astarion.”

“Ugh.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut so hard his forehead creases, “About six days. Why?”

“I wanted to assess which strength Potion of Healing I’m going to need.”

“Healing potion?” He blinks, “Why do you still carry those around?”

“Old habits, I suppose.”

You pull the potion out of your bedside table and set it down before removing your housecoat. Throwing it on the bed, you take a step closer to him. You watch his jaw tense and relax repeatedly, and his hands clench into fists.

“You can’t go on like this. Feed on me.”

“I-,”

“Don’t make me get another dagger.”

He snickers, “You do have awfully terrible knife skills.”

“And Shadowheart isn’t here to save me from my own grave ineptitude.”

“You frightened me that night, you know. I hadn’t been that scared in,” he pauses, thinking, “decades. Not even when Cazador would pull me into the kennels…”

He steps closer to you.

“Astarion…”

“You wanted truth in all things, darling.”

Astarion grabs you by the waist, tugging your body flush against his. Bowing his head, he runs his lips down your neck and along your collarbone. As it always does, the temperature contrast sends shivers shooting up your spine, and you gasp. You roll your head to the side, exposing your neck to him further.

Astarion delicately kisses your neck, “You’re a gift.”

You feel that familiar icy pinch as his fangs sink in. You inhale sharply. The sudden stab of pain makes your hands go to his biceps, anchoring yourself, squeezing hard. The sharpness of the pain dissipates rapidly and becomes nothing more than a dull throbbing ache.

He groans against your neck, and you feel your essence being drawn out of you in steady, calculated pulls.

His tongue laps at your neck, savouring every drop. Astarion’s grip on your waist tightens, and he bucks his hips into you. His arousal is obvious, and he wants you to know it - feel it.

With a moan, you can’t help but gyrate your hips demandingly against him in response. You’re full of fevered need for him while he fills himself with you.

Your life spills into him, and you can feel yourself flowing through his veins, powering his muscles, sating his raging hunger. It’s an odd sensation - like you are one person inhabiting two bodies simultaneously.

Or perhaps that's the light-headedness talking.

Your head swims dreamily, and you close your eyes and let yourself begin to drift into him, enjoying the familiar serenity of this moment. The act of him feeding on you has always felt intimate. Your body shakes excitedly, and your heart croons the siren song of desire.

It feels like it ends too soon as Astarion removes his fangs from your neck carefully. He places his cool palm on the wound, putting firm pressure on it to staunch any residual bleeding. He reaches over to the bedside table and uncaps the healing potion with his teeth before bringing it to your lips.

“Drink.”

You do as you’re told, and Astarion pours the viscous sweet liquid into your mouth in deliberate increments, giving you time to swallow until the bottle is drained.

“Good girl.” He purrs as his thumb slides across your lips, wicking away any drops that may have spilt.

His eyes are lidded heavily with a carnal lust you would recognize anywhere. The crimson hue of his irises is so vibrant that they look like polished glinting gems, and you’re captivated by the dazzling incandescence.

Astarion eases the pressure on your neck momentarily, checking to see if the bleeding has stopped before reapplying it.

“Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “Gentle as a babe.”

The tapered points of his ears are flushed rosy-pink, and his body is no longer clenched unnaturally. He looks happy, the way you like to see him, and you smile at him.

“What are you smiling at, my dear?”

Sighing softly, “You.”

“And why ever would that be?”

“You look happy.”

His eyebrows rise, and he cocks his head, “Perhaps, I overdid it.”

“No, you didn’t.” You bring your hand to the one he’s holding firmly against your neck and slide your fingers around his wrist, “I just like seeing you like this; the points of your ears flushed, your body relaxed, smiling. I like seeing you happy.”

His voice softens into a low, seductive timbre, “Is that so? Do you know when I am happiest?”

“Elbow deep in gore, if my memory serves me correctly.”

He chuckles, “Oh no, my love. I’m happiest when I’m deep in you.”

Promptly, you once again become exceedingly cognizant of his hard length pressed firmly against you. Using his index finger, he gently tilts your head so that you’re meeting his gaze. The passionate intensity in his eyes makes your heart leap, and you draw in a sharp breath. Your lips part intuitively as you stare back up at him, letting your eyes devour his beauty.

I should stop him.

He lowers his mouth to yours in a tender caress, and your eyes flutter closed. Your tongue traces his lips, and he parts them for you with a deep moan, allowing you to taste him. His mouth harbours the metallic tang of you, and it only pushes your arousal higher.

Your fingers nimbly pull the hem of his shirt free from his pants, desperate to feel his satiny, cool skin. Your hand glides up the contours of his lithe body greedily. You let out a shuddering breath as you feel the aching need in your already swelling flesh.

Astarion hugs you firmly to him as he walks you carefully backward until you’re anchored between him and your bedroom wall. His erection presses into you, and you grind against him, desperate for the gratifying friction. He groans, driving his hips further into you with an eager whimper.

He breaks the kiss off, nipping playfully at your lower lip, and looks down at you with heated eyes, half-lidded with arousal.

“Tell me what you want, my love, and it’s yours.”

What do I want?

Him.

Just him… forever.

You tremble against him, and your voice comes out in a breathless pant, “You.”

He trails his finger down your neck, featherlight across your chest and between your breasts.

Oh.

“You’re beautiful like this, you know. Skin flushed, teeming with need, begging to be tasted.”

Fuck.

His finger continues its lazy route down your stomach and over your belly button. Your skin prickles at the sensation, and tension coils hot in your abdomen. You can feel your knees buckle as the walls of your core spasm and contract.

So close.

He continues his relentless teasing advance. His fingers sweep under your night shirt and brush over the silk shorts covering your swollen clit, and you let out a shuddering breath.

“Fuck.” He hisses under his breath, “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.”

“Astarion…”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You feel bashful all of a sudden, heat rising to your face. Your voice quivers pleadingly, “I want you.”

Astarion pushes his hand past the waistband of your shorts, and his finger slips between your folds. You have to stop yourself from crying out at the decadent sensation of his bracing fingers cooling the fiery heat pooling between your legs.

The pad of his finger teases your clit, drawing leisurely circles around the swollen, pulsing bundle of nerves. You moan, bucking your hips, and sag into him.

Your bedroom door rattles loudly, and Gale’s muffled voice rings behind it, startling you, “Are you in there? Tara told me something is wrong with Astarion, and he’s not in his room.”

“Gods, his timing is horrendous,” Astarion whispers near your ear.

Or it’s perfect. I let that go too far.

Your entire body whines with displeasure as Astarion stops the delicious onslaught of sensation and withdraws his hand.

It takes you a moment to regain enough of your composure that your mind can coherently put words together again.

“Just a second!” You finally manage to call out.

You grab the robe hanging over the chair by your bed and slip into it in a rush. Astarion sits on your bed, hiding the obvious erection still prominent in trousers.

Your fingers still tremble from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you fumble with the lock on your door. Gale’s concerned face is awaiting you when you finally manage to open it.

“Were you still resting? I didn’t mean to wake you, but Tara-” He cuts off as his eyes fall on Astarion sitting casually on your bed, “Oh… I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Before Astarion can get a word in, you blurt out, “No, of course not. Tara woke me to say Astarion seemed unwell, so I went to check on him. Everything is fine.”

“Unwell?” Gale eyes the fresh bite mark marring the skin of your neck, “I see.”

Fuck. I forgot about that.

Feeling the need to explain yourself, and by extension Astarion, you continue with your hasty word vomit, “He was just hungry. Apparently, there aren’t a lot of animals roaming the forests around Waterdeep.”

“Hmmm, I’m sure,” Gale says skeptically, eyeing Astarion.

“Your neck is safe, wizard.”

“Yes. I see you’ve already found one to dine on.”

You don’t like the austere intonation of Gale’s voice or the weariness in shaded in his eyes.

“I offered, Gale.”

“Yes, of course you did.”

Astarion stands abruptly, “Thank you for the meal, darling. I’m feeling much less… grumpy. I best get some sleep. I am ever so tired .”

Astarion kisses your cheek and whispers in your ear, “This isn’t over.”

Gale watches Astarion with reservation as he disappears into his room.

“No animals in the forest, hm? And you believe him?”

“He can hear you, Gale.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Yes, I believe him. He has no reason to lie, and we have no reason to doubt him.”

“I would argue that your blood is a rather strong incentive to be untruthful.”

You shoot him with a warning look, irked by the judgemental undertone. It was your neck, your blood and your choice. Whether he believed Astarion or not was inconsequential.

He sighs, “It’s none of my business. You know him better than I, after all.”

Tara lopes down the hallway, rubbing herself on Gale’s legs as she weaves through them.

“Did you speak to the vampire about his conduct?”

“Yes, of course. He said he was ever so sorry, and he won’t throw anything at you ever again. He even promised he would warm your evening milk.” You raise your voice slightly even though you know you don’t have to, “Isn’t that right, Astarion?”

His voice echoes down the hall, muffled by his closed door, and you can hear the displeasure in it, “Indeed.”

Gale excuses himself, proclaiming that he has business in the city he must attend to. Closing your door, you rest your forehead against it, taking deep breaths.

That was too close, but at the same time, not nearly close enough.

Your body is still humming with anticipatory tension, yearning for his intoxicating caress. Your skin crawls with the prospect, and you shake your head, trying to dislodge your titillating thoughts. With a grumble, you ready yourself a bath in the large oval wooden tub and soak in it until the water becomes too tepid.

You spend the rest of your day doing idle chores, trying to keep your hands and mind busy enough that your thoughts stop drifting to what had occurred in your room that morning.

I will never be able to look at that wall the same.

By late evening, you’re sitting by the fireplace in the grand hall, engrossed in your book. Tara lounges sprawled out in front of the hot flames leaping about in the fireplace.

You twitch, jolted by a light kiss placed on the top of your head.

“Sorry. Did I startle you?”

“You could make some sort of noise when you move about, you know.”

Astarion cocks his head, “I could… but where is the fun in that?”

He sits in the heavily padded chair across from you with a cunning smile on his roguishly handsome face.

Gods. He really is something else, isn’t he?

“You delight in scaring people?”

“Darling, I’m a vampire. It’s in my nature.”

You roll your eyes at him, “Did you sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

“Very funny.”

Astarion leans forward and eyes you raptly. The ambient light increases the cardinal lustre of his red eyes. Striking shadows cast bewitchingly over his debonair expression. A small half smile quirks up one side of his lips.

You cock your head at him, “What?”

“Come out with me tonight.”

You close the book, “Do you need help with something?”

“No, darling. I want to take you out… on a date.”

“A date?”

“Yes. Allow me to court you.”

“Court me?” You giggle, “You sound old.”

He chuckles, “Love, I AM old.”

“What would we go do?”

“Go to a tavern, go on a crime spree, rob someone. The possibilities are endless really.”

You nod, “Okay.”

“Truly?”

“You sound surprised. Did you expect me to say no?”

His finger comes to his lips, “Last I checked, friends don’t go on dates.”

I have let my misery shackle me for far too long. I’m sick of being afraid.

“They don’t,” you say bluntly, “But there’s something you must do first.”

“Anything.”

“You owe Tara warm milk.”

Astarion sags in his chair with a loud groan.

Tara’s head pops up, eyes suddenly alert, and her tail vibrates happily straight into the air, “It’s about time, vampire!”

He points at Tara, “This is your fault.”

You beam an angelic smile at him, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Go get ready. I’ll warm the…,” he pauses, “Tressym, her bloody milk.”

“A man of his word.”

He lowers a haughty glower at you, his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile, “Go.”

You trot up the long staircase to your bedroom giddily. Butterflies carouse in your stomach and your heart flutters in tempo with the beating of their wings.

A date? We’ve been out countless times together, but Astarion has never asked me on an actual date.

You slip into a yellow, body-hugging sheathe dress with long sleeves. The delicate fabric is adorned by an embroidered dragon twirling from your chest, down your back and around your midsection. You pick a dress with a high neck to cover the fresh bite marks gracing your skin. Checking the mirror, you comb your hair and freshen your makeup before going downstairs.

You hear Tara scold Astarion, “It’s not warm enough, vampire.”

You have to stifle a laugh as you walk into the kitchen. Astarion is standing with the bowl of milk in 1 hand, and his other is pressed against his forehead, lamenting exasperation, as Tara stares at him scathingly through narrowed eyes.

“Having trouble?”

He hits you with an impatient look that slowly dissolves as his eyes explore you from head to toe and back again.

His mouth drops open, “You look exquisite.”

You giggle, soaking in his praise, “Let me help you with that.”

You slip the bowl of milk from his hand as he stands there in stunned rapture.

Fire springs to life in your palm, and you hover the bowl just above the licking blaze, warming the milk quickly. Placing the bowl on the ground, Tara starts to lap the warm milk with happy, resounding purrs.

“Astarion?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gawking.”

“Right. Apologies.” He bows shallowly, “Shall we go?”

“Lead on.”

You and Astarion stroll through the dozing city. The streets are dimly lit by tall lanterns burning in precise increments on each side of the thoroughfare. You’re thankful this night feels warmer than most, or maybe it’s just your feverish excitement keeping the cold at bay.

You banter back and forth while you make your way into the center of nightlife here in Waterdeep. The walk is long, which takes longer as you and him stroll casually, enjoying each other's company.

The stars shine brightly overhead and flicker captivatingly as you stare at them. You feel Astarion’s hand bump up against you. You smile as his hand slides into yours, and your fingers interlock.

“I can’t believe you had me warm milk for that cat.”

“You threw a pillow at the TRESSYM.”

He huffs, “She was thumping about in my room!”

“I don’t see the problem. You warmed her milk the other night, did you not?”

He nods, “I did.”

“Why?”

“I needed her to deliver a message to a lovely, fiery sorceress. She needed convincing.”

“Why ask her to deliver the message at all?”

“I did not want you to think I ran off again.”

Oh…

He kisses the back of your hand, “You know this city better than I do. Where should we go get ourselves into trouble?”

You flash him a wicked smile, “I have an idea.”

“Oh, intriguing.”

“This way.”

You walk hand-in-hand, leading him through the winding avenues until you’re standing in front of the tavern called The Grinning Lion.

“This certainly looks upscale.”

“This is where the nobles come to overindulge. I want to play our game.”

His eyes widen in surprise, a devious grin stretches across his face, and he drags you, giggling, into the tavern.

The tavern is busy, as it was most nights. The walls are adorned with dark, heavily lacquered wood panelling. Opulent scones decorate them, casting their softly rocking illumination. Cabinets of obviously fraudulent battle trophies line the walls. Finely dressed nobles, patriars, and other well-off citizens pack the crowded room. They hoot and holler, calling out lascivious jeers.

Astarion smiles fiendishly, “Oh yes, this will do nicely.”

Astarion’s hand comes to the small of your back, and he leans close, “What would you like to drink?”

“Something hard.”

“Someone is feeling adventurous tonight. Find us a table. I’ll get the drinks.”

You nod to him and start to meander your way through the befuddled crowd. You turn your head slightly, but not enough to look at him.

Under your breath, you whisper, “And Astarion… Red jacket, blue piping, unsightly hat, greying beard.”

You weave your way through the throng, getting bumped into from time to time by some roaring drunk noble stumbling about. Finding a small table in a dim corner, you sit in the overtly pretentious chair and scan the rambunctious room.

It isn’t long before Astarion walks up and slides your drink over to you. You pick it up and take a small sip. Elquesstria, imported from Evereska - your favourite. He hits you with a striking, playful smile.

You lean back in your chair, “Did you manage?”

“What do you think?”

You hear the recognizable jingle of coin, and he smirks at you with a guileful expression, “We should endeavour to thank him before we retire.”

You giggle, taking another long sip of the succulent liquor. This was a game you and he had invented purely for amusement. You’d pick a mark for him, and he would relieve them of their coin or whatever else was in their pockets.

You point him towards progressively more difficult marks, trying to give him a challenge. If he successfully picks the pocket of every target, he wins; if you point him at someone and he either declines or gets caught, you win. The prize was whatever you two decided on after.

You have never won.

He was too good, an expert Rouge through and through, with centuries of practice and mastery of his skills behind him. His stealth and dexterity are unmatched.

You finish your glass in long gulps when you see the waitress heading for your table. Her eyes graze over Astarion, and her hips start to sway lewdly back and forth. She straightens herself elegantly and tugs on her shirt, revealing more of her ample cleavage. You stop yourself from groaning.

And it starts already.

The waitress puts her hand on the table, leaning close to him, closer than she needs to, “Can I get you something, Saer?”

He glances at your empty drink and orders you another. She nods curtly at him, “And for yourself?”

“Nothing for me.”

He stares straight past her, watching the crowd, and she huffs in frustration and stomps away. You can feel the alcohol going to your head already, and you giggle at her vexation with his complete dismissal of her transparent flirtation.

He cocks a brow at you and leans in, “What?”

Surely, he noticed that, right?

“Nothing.”

“Alright, love. Who is next on your hit list?”

Your finger idly taps the table, and you keep your eyes focused on him, “Light blue shirt, short blonde hair, ugly shoes.”

He nods, “You remember how to play well.”

It was something he had taught you so that you didn’t rouse suspicion. Scan the crowd, but don’t stare at any one person for too long. Pick a mark and watch from your peripheral vision to pick out the details if more are needed.

“I had a good teacher.”

Astarion sips his drink, “The best,” he winks, “I’ll be right back.”

He gets up from his chair and scans his surroundings, no doubt planning his route.

You keep your voice quiet. His sharp ears will hear you even in this raucous commotion, “Astarion.”

He hesitates but doesn’t look at you. He lowers his head and straightens his jacket - a signal to you that he’s listening.

“And the waitress.”

Astarion strides away into the crowd, and you keep your eyes cast down at the table. You want to watch him, but you know that would make it far too obvious. If someone were to notice your intense gaze following him, it would hamper his ability to slink through the rabble.

The waitress reappears and sets your drink down with a loud thud. She looks around, obviously looking for your earth-shatteringly handsome company, and then slaps you with a catty half-smile.

You look at her with the sweetest smile you can muster, “Thank you.”

She takes off with a huff and vanishes. You shake your head, laughing to yourself.

My jealous streak is alive and well, it seems.

Taking another long draw of your drink, you savour the slight burn as it slides down your throat. Your limbs start to tingle, and your inhibitions dwindle. You settle into this moment comfortably without fear and insecurity gnawing at you.

Astarion dodges around a particularly inebriated man awkwardly lumbering and takes his seat gracefully beside you. He grabs his drink and takes another small sip.

“The waitress hardly seemed a worthy target.”

You rest your head on your hand, “Is this your way of telling me you lost?”

He scoffs, “Hardly. A mere observation. I’m curious, why her?”

“She was stripping you with her eyes. I thought it only fair you strip her of her coin.”

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks, “You’re a merciless, jealous thing, aren’t you?”

Taking another gulp of your drink, you smile and shrug at him innocently.

“If you keep drinking like that, the night will be over far too quickly, darling.”

You bring your hand to your chest dramatically, “Are you insinuating I can’t hold my liquor, Astarion?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to carry you home.”

“Unlikely to be the last too.”

He chuckles, “Promises. Promises.”

You glance around the room, “Enlighten me, Astarion. Who would be the hardest mark here?”

His eyebrow cocks, “Asking me to give away trade secrets now? How very bold.” He smirks, sipping his drink, “I’m not sure I should. I do want to win, after all. I have my prize all picked out and everything.”

You drain your glass. You know that look and the suggestion intonation along with it.

The waitress appears at Astarion’s side with a bright grin and a tempestuous, sultry gaze, “Can I refresh that for you, Saer?”

She doesn’t even look your way, let alone meet your eyes, and you feel your palm warm with the unmistakable heat of your envy physically manifesting. You can’t help yourself, and you scoff out loud at her.

Astarion keeps a keen eye on you, ignoring her proximity to him, “Another drink for my wife.”

He takes your hand, placing an affectionate kiss across your knuckles. You sputter, nearly choking on the air, and the heat emanating from your palm retreats with the rush of astonishment.

His wife... Gods, why does that sound so good?

The waitress shoots herself upright, her face flushes, and she backs away from him swiftly, “Right away, Saer.”

She scurries off in an uncoordinated hurry. You would laugh had you not been staring at him in bewilderment.

“Your wife?”

“Don’t worry, friend, you’re all but green with envy, not to mention that twitchy palm of yours. I thought you might enjoy seeing her flounder.”

You stare at him, mystified. The spirits make your head feel fuzzy, and your heart feels like it’s shot up and lodged in your throat. Your thoughts revolve dizzyingly.

The waitress returns and plunks your glass in front of you with a fake smile. He nods to her curtly, and she hurries back off.

You grab your glass and swallow several big sips, draining half of it, before returning it to the table.

Astarion looks around, anxiously glancing away from you and back, “Did I overstep?”

Your voice comes out in a breathy sigh, “No.”

He smiles, “I do not often see you lost for words. What’s going on in your head?”

“Nothing, just…” you shake your head, trying to get a hold of yourself, “Nothing. You were about to enlighten me before we were rudely interrupted.”

“Was I?”

You find your confidence, “Yes, I believe you mentioned something about trade secrets.”

“Oh no, darling,” he tuts, “I mean to win tonight.”

“Consider the game won.”

“I win?”

You nod, “If you teach me what a Rogue looks for.”

“And my prize?”

“We can discuss that on the way back.”

“Deal.”

Astarion reaches over, grabs the spindly leg of your chair, and drags it across the floor until you’re right beside him. He leans in close, and you inhale his intoxicating scent.

“Do you see the man sitting at the large round table in the middle of the room? Tan shirt, sweat stains, grotesquely stiff moustache?”

You quickly scan the room, not allowing your eyes to linger too long on any particular area, “The large man?”

He nods, “The very one.”

You look at him quizzically and tilt your head just enough to see the man in your peripherals, searching for reasons he would be the toughest mark here. All you can make out is that he is stationary, and due to his location in the room, a number of people are huddled around him.

“Care to elaborate?”

Astarion’s eyes are full of beaming delight. He always did love teaching you his craft, even if you were terrible at it. It makes your heart leap.

“Tell me what you see.”

“He’s in the middle of the room, naturally where most of the people congregate, and he doesn’t move from his chair often, if at all.”

“Very good, darling,” he purrs, “he’s in the pathway for the waiters and waitresses, meaning they check in with him most often. The counter is in front of him, so there’s always someone observing. There’s also an oil lamp on the beam to the left that brightens the area, which, naturally, people will gravitate to.”

You nod your understanding and wait for him to continue.

“As you so astutely observed, he doesn’t move often - in the dark, that would be an advantage, but not in well-lit areas. Also, his coat and pants are rather… tight,” his face twists in disgust, “and wet. I don’t have to explain that one to you, surely.”

You giggle at the revulsion twisting his face, levelling a challenging glare at him, “Are you saying you couldn’t do it?”

He snickers, “With time and patience, anything can be done, but I would not touch that man if he had all the coin in Faerûn. He’s positively sodden. I can smell him from here.”

“Even if it meant you would lose?”

“For you, my dear, I would do anything, but surely you don’t mean to go back on our deal?”

You polish off your drink, “No. I am a woman of my word. You win… for tonight.”

“Good. Shall we go? I fear the walk back will take us until sunrise as you stumble about.”

“You have no faith in me, Astarion. I would always cast Fly.”

He snickers at you, “You would likely Fly straight into a building.”

You can’t help but laugh.

He’s probably right.

“I’ll go settle up.”

You nod, “I’ll wait for you outside. I’m not sure how much more obnoxious yelling I can handle.”

“Don’t stray too far, love.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grins and departs, once again lost to the crowd. You twist your way through the unruly horde and let yourself out. The crisp night air feels refreshing in your lungs, and you drink in it. The tavern air felt unnaturally warm, carrying the sour fragrance of stale spirits and body odour.

Chilled by the breeze, you cross your arms over yourself and wander a little way towards the street.

“My wife.”

You hear Astarion’s voice in your head and smile to yourself giddily. Perhaps it’s the liquor influencing you, but you finally feel like you’re ready to stop running from him, from yourself, and your feelings. You hope you wake up in the morning with the same unwavering resolve.

The unsteady slapping of hard-soled boots on the pavement wrests you out of your hazy thoughts.

“Saer, I thought that was you.”

With a cringe, you turn and see a heavily wavering man. He looks almost like a sapling tree caught in a high wind as he sways from one side to the other on his feet, stumbling to keep his balance.

“Aldous.”

Small Notes:

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. It gives me the confidence to keep posting, and I am grateful for the support!

I am SO tempted to write more date nights for Tav because this was incredibly fun!

AO3: [Cross-Posted]

Chapter Master List - Shadows of the Past

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

#astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #astarion x you #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #shadows of the past

138 notes · View notes

bbobpul · 8 months

Text

break my heart again 2 — njm

PAIRING. na jaemin x reader SUMMARY.how's jaemin gonna give back for all of y/n's efforts now that he finally can? it's been years—just how much has everything changed? GENRE. angst, fluff, she fell first 🤭 W/C. 3.5k NOTE. hello, part two is here! so sorry i couldn't make a taglist. i didn't have time to make one. nevertheless, i hope this fic make its way back to you. love u all and thankies sm !!!! also, my requests are open !!!

(⁠☉⁠｡⁠☉⁠)⁠!⁠→ my other works !!!!!! part one here!!

i find it hard to picture myself ever being as dedicated to something or someone again, just like how i dedicated my entire college life to na jaemin.

lately, i've been feeling like i forgot what it's like to actually have a dream. back then, na jaemin was my dream, he was my driving force. i would force myself to wake up so early in the morning just so i could see him (or his car) enter the gates of the university. i would go to school even though i am sick and feel a lot better when i get home because i saw na jaemin. but now two years after graduating, i still haven't found a decent job that i actually enjoy.

it's a common experience that many people go through, and i suppose i shouldn't complain about it. maybe i need to put in more effort and push myself harder. part of me wonders if having na jaemin back in my life would rekindle that same sense of dedication that i once had. but as i say these thoughts out loud, they sound absurd, even to myself. why would i wish for my first love to return just so i could find a decent job? why would i long for na jaemin to come back merely to feel that spark in my life again? it's puzzling why i'm even dwelling on thoughts of him and wondering if he holds the key to my happiness and success.

oh, to dream.

oh, for that old dedication to still burn within you.

if only you hadn't acted so dumb that day. could life have taken a different path? are you even happy now? if you hadn't let fear hold you back back then, if you'd actually been brave enough to listen and follow through, would you be happier today?

but no matter how much you keep bothering yourself with that memory, if people come up to you and ask if you feel bad about everything that happened that day, you'd say no. you don't feel bad at all.

deciding to let him go was one of the best things you did. he seemed happy when you left, and after that, you never heard anything about him. he's like a touchy subject in your group of friends, which can be tough sometimes since you share friends. but does it really matter now? him not being in your life probably means he's happier and more peaceful, right?

are you feeling peaceful? is being stuck in a 9-5 job that hardly brought you joy a happy situation? scratch that. did being in that job make you happy? clearly not, as you've just mustered the bravery to quit. and in doing so, you've never felt more joyful.

did you really make the right decision?

just as you were pondering your own question, your phone buzzed on the bedside table. you grabbed it and saw that the caller was renjun, your incredibly patient best friend.

"y/n," he said, his tone becoming unusually serious. "what's up?" you asked. "do you need money?" "yeah?" "here's the deal: our college is putting together a documentary film, and they've chosen your department. but guess what? your old classmates are bombarding me with messages because it looks like you're ignoring them all. frankly, i can't believe you even answered my call," he griped. "wait, hold on. what film? and why would they pick me? are they searching for someone with a post-college life so sad that it belongs in a documentary?" "well, you were practically a legend back in college, so… and apparently, the director specifically wants you, which leads to… well, another issue…" "what's the problem now?" "it's going to be directed by jaemin."

and just like that, you ended the call. but a few seconds later, renjun's call came in again.

"i'm not going to do it." "you stubborn brat." "why him?" "i have no idea!" "why is he even directing? wasn't he studying architecture or something?" "i don't know, y/n. i haven't heard a single thing about him since your graduation." "what do you mean?" "that's not important now, y/n. you're in need of money, right? seize the opportunity. do it for the cash." “so will you do it or will you do it?” “for the cash.”

...

"y/n, you've moved on, haven't you? what's done is done. i'm pretty sure jaemin has forgotten all about it. this chance is coming your way, so just accept it." "i guess i will."

you're drawn in by the idea of making some extra money and the possibility of catching the eye of potential agents or employers. right now, you're at a crossroads, thinking about how this documentary could be a stepping stone to more job opportunities down the line. this situation is different from what usually drives you – this time, it's not about others, it's about focusing on your own goals and aspirations.

you're deliberately avoiding dwelling on your past. just as renjun mentioned, you've moved beyond it. what's done is done. right now, your focus is firmly on the present and the potential that lies ahead in the future.

what's in the past is behind us, including whatever existed between jaemin and you.

from renjun

tomorrow at lunchtime, they'll be going over the schedules and discussing what to film. if you want, you can chat with the director now. his number is 0825 813 2000.

in response, you simply replied with a "okay."

the night before the lunch meeting, a jumble of emotions has you in its grip. the idea of reconnecting with jaemin, who used to be your best friend and is now someone distant, fills you with a sense of awkwardness. you tell yourself that this is about working together and the chance to grow professionally.

after taking a deep breath, you decide to shoot jaemin a text. your fingers hesitate as you type, and the uncertainty you're feeling seems to seep into your message. you finally press send, and your text reads, "hey, it's y/n. heard we're meeting tomorrow for the documentary. just wanted to check in before that."

in almost no time, your phone buzzes with a response: "hey y/n, good to hear from you. yeah, looking forward to our meeting. let's catch up and chat about the project."

the conversation is polite, but beneath the surface, there's an unspoken layer of complexity. you can feel the hesitation in your exchange, a silent recognition of the shared history that's now a distant memory. as you talk about the meeting and the documentary, the easy flow you once had is noticeably absent.

as the texts go back and forth, a sense of tension seems to hang in the air. it's as though the years of friendship you once had are casting a shadow over your conversation. the effortless connection you once shared now requires effort, and both of you can sense the change.

as the conversation wraps up with a simple "see you tomorrow," you're left with a mix of excitement and anxiety. the idea of seeing jaemin again, especially in a professional context, stirs up a range of emotions. this situation is a stark reminder of just how much things have changed – and maybe how some things can't go back to the way they were.

you believed the conversation had concluded, only for your phone to ring once more, bearing yet another message from him. as you read the words on the screen, "i missed you, y/n," a rush of emotions floods over you.

"what's going on with him?" you mutter to yourself, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion. your gaze remains fixed on the message for a moment, your attention drawn to the three blinking dots in the corner – a sign that he's in the process of typing a response. several more seconds tick by, the dots eventually vanishing, and in response, you shut your phone off. you make an attempt to settle into bed and get some rest, but truth be told, it's hard to claim you managed to sleep soundly that night. an undercurrent of thoughts and emotions keeps your mind restless.

the day of lunch lunch finally arrived. you sat across from jaemin, his words forming a distant hum as your thoughts remained clouded and preoccupied. the lingering impact of his recent message kept you in a state of unease, making it difficult to fully engage in the conversation he was leading.

then, something inside you snapped, and you found yourself abruptly interrupting him with a question that had been gnawing at you, "why me?"

he looked at you, his gaze steady, and his response was quick, "why not you?"

your frustration simmered as his words hit you. he was choosing to be cryptic, and it was only adding to your confusion. pushing past your exasperation, you pressed on, "listen, i know we didn't part on the best terms, but why come back now and act like everything's fine? i mean, sure, it's better than hostility, but why choose me? i'm the one who's no longer part of your life."

his expression remained neutral, void of any emotions as he replied, "that's not true."

you raised an eyebrow, challenging him to elaborate. "what's not true?"

"that you have nothing to do with my life, y/n," he stated firmly.

the weight of his words settled heavily between you two, the gravity of the situation growing more apparent. the lunch table had transformed into an arena for confronting unresolved issues.

you scoffed, unable to hold back your disbelief. "jaemin, i made one mistake, and now you're trying to imply that my actions shaped your entire life?"

his eyes held yours, unwavering. "y/n, it's not just about that one mistake. everything that followed, everything that shaped who i am today… it's all connected to you."

your mind reeled, trying to grasp the enormity of what he was suggesting. the complexities of your shared history seemed to crash over you, leaving you grappling with a whirlwind of emotions and a tangled web of unspoken feelings.

the weight of his words left you momentarily speechless, and in an attempt to shift away from the intensity, you sought to change the subject. "where are the other producers? why is it just you here?"

"y/n…" he began, his tone suggesting he wanted to continue the previous conversation.

however, you opted to sidestep the discussion entirely. you pretended as if the profound exchange hadn't just occurred. "i notice you're taking on the role of a director now. quite the career shift, huh?" you inquired, masking your internal turmoil with a casual demeanor. you acted as if there hadn't been a two-year gap in your connection, as though things between you were perfectly ordinary.

he met your gaze, a faint hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "i pursued another dream when i felt i'd lost the chance for my first one."

"your first dream… not architecture, then?" you prodded, curious about the direction he had taken.

he shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him, leaving you puzzled yet again. "no, not architecture. well, i suppose that just wasn't meant for me back then, but maybe it is now."

the cryptic nature of his response only added to the layers of confusion and intrigue that surrounded him. there was something about the way he spoke that hinted at deeper currents beneath the surface, emotions and experiences that he hadn't fully revealed. you found yourself torn between the desire to push for answers and the instinct to allow him his privacy. the lunch meeting had transformed into a stage for untangling not just the complexities of the documentary but also the intricate web of emotions and history between you and jaemin.

leaving the restaurant, a whirlwind of unanswered questions dances in your mind. yet, for now, you choose to tuck those thoughts away, focusing instead on the looming filming date just a few days away – next saturday.

in the span of time between that lunch and the upcoming shoot, jaemin proves consistent in his attempts to bridge the gap between you two. he regularly reaches out, updating you about his day and proposing get-togethers, which you consistently decline.

the days pass, marked by a series of messages and missed opportunities. despite the undeniable tension, there's an undeniable persistence on jaemin's part, a determined effort to reconnect and reestablish a sense of familiarity. however, your apprehensions and the memories of your past dynamics hold you back, keeping you from embracing his overtures.

as the countdown to the filming day continues, you find yourself in a delicate dance – balancing the unresolved history between you and the prospects of the future. the lines between your personal and professional lives are blurred, and the documentary project becomes a backdrop against which the intricacies of your relationship with jaemin play out.

you find yourself constantly pondering what his intentions could be. his actions leave you wondering, and you can't help but question what he's aiming for. in your perspective, you're merely a negative aspect of his life – a streak of misfortune. you would have expected him to have learned from the past, but his determination remains unshakeable.

as you contemplate these thoughts, your phone lights up once more, bearing yet another message from him. his name on the screen triggers a whirlwind of emotions – a mixture of uncertainty, annoyance, and a hint of curiosity. opening the message, you brace yourself for whatever he might convey this time. the consistency in his attempts at communication only serves to deepen the intricate web of emotions you hold for him, leaving you caught between your shared history and the unpredictability of the present.

"the offer's still there, y/n. :)" "jaemin, let's be real. just because i'm on board with your documentary idea doesn't mean we're suddenly best buds again. a lot has changed." "i want to reconnect, though." "actually, scratch that. i want to get to know you all over again." "jaemin, i appreciate the effort, but let's keep things professional, okay?" “i’m sorry, y/n. goodnight.”

after your straightforward message, his responses ceased. a silence settled in, stretching on until saturday – the day you were set to see him again. the anticipation and uncertainty had been building, and now the moment was finally at hand.

you stepped into the studio and immediately noticed that you and jaemin were the only ones present. your confusion must have been evident on your face, prompting him to address the situation promptly.

"um, the team thought having fewer people in the room would create a more personal atmosphere," he began, his voice carrying a hint of unease. "and, well, they decided to keep me here, you know, being the director and all, and also because we have a history…"

his words trailed off, and there was a subtle vulnerability in his tone. it was as if he was acknowledging the intricacies of your past connection, while simultaneously recognizing the complexities it introduced into your current dynamic. the studio, usually a place of creativity and collaboration, had transformed into a space laden with the weight of your shared history.

"it's okay," you responded, your words carrying a touch of reassurance. as your reply registered, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips – a detail you couldn't help but notice. after all, it was that very smile that had ignited four years of your life, a smile that held memories and emotions you had both shared.

"um, i'll just ask you a few questions, and then you're free to go," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness that didn't escape your notice. this new facet of his demeanor felt unfamiliar to you, a departure from the confident jaemin you had known.

you found yourself disliking this uneasiness, and a thought occurred to you – maybe it was time to rekindle something within him. as he began asking you questions, you decided to respond in a way that would evoke a certain familiarity between you two. it was a subtle attempt to bridge the gap, to draw out the person you once knew.

you had believed that his silence was what you wanted. you had convinced yourself that distancing yourself from him would protect you from the past mistakes. but now, facing the reality of the situation, you realized that perhaps a certain selfishness was ingrained within you. maybe, just maybe, you yearned to erase the distance, to defy your own rationalizations.

in this moment, you found yourself yearning to rekindle what had been lost, to bring back a connection that once meant so much. the conflicting emotions within you painted a complex picture of your desires – a battle between self-preservation and the longing for something more.

however, as you locked eyes with him and saw the lack of any discernible emotion in his gaze, a haunting wave of fear resurfaced within you. in that moment, it was as if time rewound, taking you back to the day of your graduation when your heart and spirit had felt shattered. the memory of that painful experience rushed back, accompanied by the doubts and uncertainties that had plagued you.

if you were to truly confront your own feelings, you'd admit that what you witnessed that night had left you questioning your own worth. the events had stirred up doubts about whether you had ever been deserving of taking risks for, whether you had ever been someone worth fighting for.

"hey, good morning, y/n."

"morning, director."

"how's today treating you?"

"pretty good, thanks."

"hmm, and what's life been like after college?"

"…"

"take your time."

"at first, i felt okay. my friends were all getting closer to their dreams, and i was genuinely happy for them. especially…"

"especially who?"

"especially the person i left behind."

"…"

"i was content being happy for someone else. then another year went by, and i wasn't feeling so great anymore."

"do you really think they're happy?"

"hmm?"

"the person you left behind."

"yeah. and my other friends seem happy too. they've got jobs they love, they're with people they care about, and i only had… renjun *laughs* … but sometimes, i can't help but feel like i'm the one who got left behind, you know? even though i was the one who walked away."

"let's talk about your person."

"oh *laughs* he's not my person."

pausing for a moment, you glanced at jaemin behind the camera. the question lingered in your mind: what was he trying to do? his actions and intentions remained a puzzle.

his expression grew serious, his gaze fixed intently on you. it was as if he had something to convey, something he was holding back.

"the last time i actually saw him was in an instagram post. he was with some girl. it happened on my graduation day. i waited the whole day, hoping he'd appear in the midst of the crowd. when he didn't, i held onto the possibility of seeing him by the gates. but that didn't happen either. my last hope was maybe he'd send me a single message, but by the end of the day, nothing came. then i went on instagram and saw a photo – a warning, i guess. a warning that i should just stop hoping. that… happened a few weeks later, i think. or maybe it was just a few days after our argument, the one where he told me he couldn't love… yeah."

you met his gaze and once again, his face was serious. his eyes were furrowed and his mouth was slightly open. a few moments passed, and he let out a shaky breath. screw it, you thought, it's out there now and i don't care anymore.

your silent exchange was interrupted as he shifted the camera away. confusion clouded your thoughts as you watched him move. he turned back to you, his expression still serious, and then he grabbed a chair from the nearby table. he sat down with his back facing you.

the room felt charged with unspoken emotions, leaving you to question his intentions and actions. it was as if he was peeling away layers, searching for something beneath the surface.

"did you know that…" he began, his voice breaking the silence. "she was his sister?"

"i never told you about her, that's on me," he admitted with a chuckle. "that was her last day, y/n. so i decided to spend the entire day with her. i'm sorry."

you were taken aback. "i'm sorry–"

"it's okay, y/n."

"i know i left you with so many questions that night, but let me tell you… every effort you made, every cookie you baked, i cherished all of it. i loved you. i'm sorry if my actions made you doubt yourself."

another pause filled the air.

"i left when you left."

"you were my dream. architecture wasn't really my passion, you know? i was struggling a lot, but luckily, you were there with me. i decided to chase after what i truly loved when you left, because i realized if i wanted you back in my life, it should be when i'm at my best, right? i wasn't lying when i said i couldn't love. i didn't want to love you when i was broken. i wanted to be the best version of myself for you. i thought that if i wanted you to be with the best person, then that should be me. so i became that person, a director, and then i planned all of this." his eyes finally met yours.

"i was always looking at you."

tears welled up in your eyes, and he seemed to notice. he took a step towards you and enveloped you in his arms.

"i'm sorry for not holding onto you back then, baby. but i promise, i won't let go of you now," he whispered.

"i'm sorry for leaving, jaemin," you sobbed.

"shh, you did what you thought was right."

"do you want to have lunch with me now?" he asked.

a mixture of emotions flooded your heart, and with a nod, you replied, "yes, jaemin."

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rewatching-sam-and-dean · 4 months

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My Commentary on Rob and Rich Reviewing (4x14) Sex and Violence

I was listening to the latest Supernatural Then and Now Podcast (The Siren Episode) and I had to stop it after the Rob and Rich review to write down my thoughts because it annoyed me so much.

The guys both thought the episode was okay, but a bunch of things “bumped” for them. This is fine, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion about an episode, but some of the things that “bumped” for them “bump” for me.

My thoughts under the cut …

Bump # 1 - The Siren turning out to be a man

So, both Rs had an issue with the siren being a man since the lore showed them as women, and I think, because in real mythology they are women. Though they conceded that the a male siren could be a thing too, it seemed to really bother them that the siren ended up not being about a sexual connection with the brothers (though Rich saw the flask sharing scene as flirtatious … because no guys have ever shared a flask, including, Dean and Bobby).

I’m sorry, but the siren targeting the brothers, and using a version of an ideal brother to get to Dean isn’t a plot hole or a “stretch” or something, it’s an interesting choice and it’s exactly the point of the episode. While many men are vulnerable to a pretty woman who is into them, Dean just wants Sam. He wants his relationship with Sam to be better. In particular, he’s so worried about Sam and insecure in their bond that he wants a Sam who likes what he likes but, more importantly, one who listens to him and doesn’t hide things from him. And I know I’ve written about this before on a previous post, but Dean doesn’t NEED the siren to be a hot girl; he can find one of those easily. He needs a Sam he can trust. That’s the whole point. The show is drawing the comparison between sexual intimacy/romantic companionship (usually one of the most desired things in literature/media) to the brothers relationship to show how much brotherhood matters to Dean in particular (in this case).

The way the male siren actor portrays its interest in the brothers, to me, is very much like it’s intrigued and excited that it found a high even better than the sexual desire that it usually feeds off of. When the siren feels how desperate Dean is for the bond with Sam to be fixed, it finds him more interesting than it’s usual target. Dean’s longing for Sam (not sexual) is even stronger than the sexual desire or romantic companionship that the siren usually feeds off of, so much so that the siren changes its entire MO to go after the brothers.

Bump # 2 - The Doctor sleeping with Sam (when she isn’t the siren) is weird

So, the Rs disagreed on the “bumpiness” of this one. Rob thought it was weird that the doctor would just decide to sleep with Sam (at work), while it didn’t bother Rich because … Jared Padalecki. Sound argument (in this case), Rich.

Still, the doctor is a little unusual, and her behaviour is clearly intended to be a misdirect, but the show does a good enough job of suggesting she had a bad breakup (or worse) and is now just sort of living in the moment, so her behaviour doesn’t bother me. Also, Sam is hot.

What is stranger than the doctor’s behaviour, for the audience who knows him, is Sam having sex with her I that moment. Not only that, but Sam is very chill when she’s hitting on him, where in the past, Sam has often been a little shy or awkward with women that he’s been attracted to or interested in. So no, this is not Sam’s usual MO to sleep with the doctor, especially when we know he and Ruby are or were also sleeping together. Sam is not acting entirely like his usual self. And he hasn’t been acting entirely like himself for a while now.

Bump # 3 - The Siren telling the boys to fight each other and saying the winner can “be with” him

I don’t know why they had an issue with this. The siren literally explains that it loves the rush of having people willing to do anything for it, even kill people they love. What the siren tells the brothers doesn’t matter because it’s not like it’s really planning to have a relationship with the brother who wins the fight. And the boys are already infected at this point, so it’s just giving them incentive to fight. It’s not sticky about the sexual-ness of people’s need for the siren, it’s about the desperation they have to be with it (in whatever way).

Bump #4 - Sam dismissing the Doctor after sleeping with her.

The guys were both bothered by Sam not bothering to say goodbye to the doctor, and they mentioned that it seemed sort of old-school (womanizing?). Rob said that Sam dismissing her was more like something Dean would do than Sam. I know that I already said this, but this is the whole point. Sam hasn’t been acting like his old self. This isn’t an accidental writing mistake, where the writer accidentally wrote Sam more like Dean. Sam is different now.

It also isn’t like Sam to call Dean weak, or ridicule him for being messed up from his experience in hell. Season 2 Sam would never, and Season 3 Sam wouldn’t either. Season 4 Sam has changed from the trauma of losing Dean, drinking demon blood, and having Ruby in his ear.

Also, to play devils advocate on myself, Sam has actually left towns before without saying goodbye to the girl he had a connection with, maybe not after sleeping with her, but it’s not wholly out of character for him to leave without saying goodbye (I’m not criticizing him for this). Also, I really don’t think that doctor was looking for anything more from Sam beyond hooking up in her office, so this doesn’t bother me much.

Final thoughts

Anyway, I’m not arguing that everyone has to love every episode, or even like all the ones that I do. I’m not even arguing that people need to like Sex and Violence because it really can be a little uncomfortable, and there is a bit of a sexual undercurrent to it all, even though that’s not the sirens intention with the brother. That’s also not exactly new on Supernatural. However, it’s weird to me that so many of the things that “bumped” for Rob and Rich seem to me like very deliberate choices by the writers, not careless mistakes or pointlessly out of character. This episode reveals a lot about where Sam and Dean are at this point in the season, both individually and in their relationship.

Granted, I have the benefit of watching the episode and knowing where it’s all leading, but this is what sort of bothers me about hearing people discuss the show who are doing it for a purpose and are probably only half-invested in the story. They miss things that seem like they should be really clear. Also, it’s funny when they find things uncomfortably sexual in relation to Sam and Dean (they didn’t outright say that, but I think it was implied in what they said) and act like it’s a surprise or out of place. Again, this isn’t new. They obviously listened to too many hellers if they didn’t realize that Sam and Dean are weirdly close at times or that the show makes some pretty blatant parallels between them and couples or makes quasi-incestuous connections between Sam and Dean.

I have nothing else to add here. This was mostly just a rant, but feel free to add your two cents if you made it this far.

#supernatural #my thoughts #Rob and Rich critical #mildly #Sex and Violence #SPN Then and Now

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kingofbodyrolls · 5 months

Text

Friendcation (m) | myg | six

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist | next →

Summary: Your vacation is coming to an end but your thoughts are spiraling and filled with anxiety as a tiny mishap makes you question your future with Yoongi.

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin.

Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.)

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Status: completed!

Word Count: 11.3K

Warnings (general): angst, anxiety, talk about feelings and future, teasing friends and mention of pregnancy. Warnings (explicit): explicit sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, protected sex, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, nipple/breast play, ass slapping, hair pulling.

Author’s note(1): Wow, these last weeks have been hard on me to be honest. For a moment I really struggled with dwindling engagement for the series, and it honestly made me want to quit the whole thing and not finish it… I had to realize who I write for (I concluded it’s for me) and whatever I receive is just a really nice bonus 🫰I felt like the decline in engagement meant you didn’t like the series (which is fine if you feel that way), but it hit me hard. I understand a part of it can be the recent long chapters (I’m truly sorry and I’ll be better at keeping it at 10K for a smoother reading experience in the future). I have so many stories in my head that I just want to put to paper, so I’m going to keep doing that. I think I’ll keep posting whatever new stuff I write in the future, because I think it’d just be a waste to have a full fanfiction parking in my Drive.

I tried to pour my heart into the last chapters, and I’m really proud of it. To be honest, it’s mostly smut (and sexual teasing) – because well 🤷

I really hope you enjoy this chapter (and the final one). Love you 💜

Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend, @gimeow *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :( **you can still be added to the taglist, just drop a comment here, on any chapter or the masterlist and I’ll add you 🌸

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

These past couple of days have left you with a strange, unsettling feeling.

It’s not just the relentless banter from your friends, teasing you about what they term as ‘sickening love and adoration’ between you and Yoongi.

No, there’s something more, something that eludes definition but refuses to be ignored.

As your friends continue to jest and joke about your relationship, a knot of unease tightens in your stomach. It’s not a matter of their words bothering you; rather, it’s a lingering doubt, an unspoken concern that seems to dance at the edges of your consciousness.

Your mind is filled with tension, and you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right.

It took an unusually long time for the realization to sink in – the absence of your period.

How could you have missed something so significant?

Perhaps it was the whirlwind of fun and excitement, the joyous moments shared with Yoongi and your friends, that allowed this crucial detail to slip through the cracks of your awareness.

As the truth settles over you like a sudden storm, a wave of introspection crashes upon your thoughts. Why had you not noticed sooner?

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of your stomach as you meticulously do the math, tracing back to that one moment you and Yoongi had sex without protection in the forest.

The pieces fall into place, forming a picture of uncertainty that leaves you standing at the crossroads of emotions.

Regret, fear, and maybe a hint of excitement swirl in a tempest within your mind. The weight of the realization becomes a stormy sea, tossing your emotions like relentless waves. You grapple with conflicting feelings, torn between the potential of new beginnings and the fear of the unknown.

For years, you made a conscious choice to steer clear of hormonal contraception.

The decision wasn’t made lightly; it was a journey of self-discovery and resilience against the societal norms that often dictate women’s reproductive choices. You recall the moments when hormonal contraception wreaked havoc on your body, the side effects casting shadows on your overall well-being.

It was then that you decided it wasn’t the path for you. The journey to this decision was marked by personal reflection, moments of doubt, and a fierce determination to take control of your reproductive health. Condoms became your chosen method of both contraception and protection. The decision was not just a practical one but a statement of agency over your own body.

Sure, you’re a grown woman, and you should have been more cautious.

The irony isn’t lost on you; after all, it only takes a few determined swimmers to set the wheels in motion for a baby.

The realization brings a mix of emotions — surprise, anxiety, and a touch of disbelief. You can’t help but question your own judgment.

As the weight of the situation settles in, you find solace in the fact that it’s with Yoongi, a man you not only adore but love (even though you haven’t spoken those words to him yet).

The history you share, the years of friendship and the open conversation about future possibilities soften the unexpected blow. He’s expressed openness to the idea of children down the line, creating a glimmer of hope in the midst of uncertainty.

As the revelation sinks in, your mind becomes a battlefield of conflicting emotions.

The foremost among them is the relentless uncertainty that echoes through every corner of your thoughts.

Did Yoongi genuinely mean what he said about wanting kids, or were those words spoken in the heat of the moment? The weight of the questions threatens to drown you, leaving you grappling with the unknown.

In the tumultuous sea of your mind, the uncertainty stands out as the dominant wave. You find yourself questioning the timing— is it too early in your relationship to venture into such uncharted territory?

The prospect of an impending headache looms, a physical manifestation of the mental strain that accompanies the myriad thoughts swirling within your head. The room feels suddenly smaller as you navigate through the maze of emotions.

Each question begets another, creating a web of doubts that threaten to entangle your sense of clarity.

Who knew a tiny stick could unleash a whirlwind of chaos in your mind?

You can practically feel your thoughts spiraling faster than a rollercoaster, and you haven’t even taken a goddamn test yet! It’s like your brain decided to host its own circus without your permission.

The prospect of a simple test morphs into a mental acrobatics show, complete with somersaulting doubts and high-wire uncertainties. You catch yourself mid-thought, berating the overthinking brain of yours— Calm down, it might be nothing, right?

As you camp in the serene outskirts of Gunsan, surrounded by the symphony of nature—crickets singing their nightly lullaby and the earthy aroma of the rural landscape—you find yourself at the crossroads of revelation.

The revelation, however, is a delicate secret that you’re hesitant to share, not with your friends and certainly not with Yoongi, at least not until you’re certain.

A few more days, and you’ll leave for another city, and hopefully you can sneak in a pregnancy test at a store without anyone noticing.

Amidst the bustling thoughts of your mind, your boyfriend’s voice cuts through the noise like a familiar melody. His warm, loving smile, revealing those endearing gums you adore, welcomes you back to the present.

“Hey, babe, are you coming?”

His voice, tinged with affection, carries a hint of playfulness. His eyes, like windows to his soul, flicker with concern as he notices a shift in your mood. A subtle furrow in his brow goes unnoticed, replaced by a comforting smile that stretches across his face.

“Yeah,” you nod in response to him. His silhouette is framed in the doorway of Holly, and the tantalizing aroma of barbecue chicken and pork wafts into the air, teasing your senses.

The savory scent wraps around you, awakening your appetite.

A playful breeze carries the distant sounds of laughter and clinking utensils from the gathering outside. The chatter of friends intermingles with the sizzle of the grill, creating a symphony of anticipation.

With a soft smile, he holds the door ajar, casting a warm invitation into the confined space. The golden hues of the setting sun paint the scene, casting long shadows that dance on the interior of the van.

“I’ll be right out,” you assure him.

As you step into the outdoor feast, the savory fragrance intensifies, enveloping you in a culinary embrace.

As the sun begins its descent on your next-to-last day in Gunsan, the air becomes infused with the tantalizing scent of barbecue. Yoongi and Seokjin, the culinary maestros, have orchestrated a feast of flavors, transforming the open fire into a canvas for their culinary artistry.

The crackling flames dance beneath skewers laden with an assortment of barbecue delights – succulent chicken and pork, each morsel dripping with savory juices. The aroma, a symphony of spices and char, teases your senses and ignites a ravenous anticipation within. The sizzle and hiss of meat meeting open flame create a hypnotic melody, luring everyone closer to the culinary spectacle.

As you emerge from the cozy confines of Holly, the brisk evening air kisses your skin, carrying with it the mingling scents of grilled delights and the lively chatter of your friends. The crackling sounds of the open fire draw you closer, promising a reprieve from the whirlwind of thoughts swirling within your mind.

A sense of gratitude swells within you. God, you love their cooking. It’s more than a meal; it’s a celebration, a manifestation of the bonds that tie you all together.

You settle into the chair beside Namjoon, the sturdy wood offering a welcome support beneath you.

A cool beer materializes in your hands, a gesture from Namjoon that elicits a small, appreciative smile. As the effervescent bubbles dance in the amber liquid, you find momentary distraction in the tactile sensation of condensation on the cold bottle.

The ambient hum of conversation surrounds you, friends exchanging anecdotes and laughter. However, their words become distant echoes, mere background noise, as your mind undertakes a journey into the realm of more pressing thoughts. Could you be pregnant?

The crackling of the nearby fire, the occasional gust of wind rustling the leaves, and the laughter of your friends create a symphony of sounds. Yet, within the symphony, your thoughts stand out like a solo, demanding attention.

As you take a sip of the cold beer, you suddenly remember that maybe you shouldn’t and put down the beer as you catch a fleeting glimpse of Yoongi, his eyes meeting yours with an unspoken understanding – does he somehow know?

Namjoon’s voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, his concern palpable in the furrow of his brow and the gentleness of his inquiry.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his words a lifeboat in the sea of your turbulent thoughts. The concern in his eyes is mirrored by the gaze of your friends, a united front of worry that surrounds you.

“I’m fine,” you offer a weak smile, the words slipping from your lips as easily as a silk thread. The campfire’s glow dances in your eyes, casting flickering shadows that betray the turbulence within.

You catch the subtle exchange of glances among your friends, a silent language they’ve perfected over the years.

Namjoon arches an eyebrow, a silent question lingering in the air.

Hoseok’s voice breaks through the haze in your mind, and you blink, realizing you’ve been somewhere else entirely. He wears a furrowed brow, a genuine concern etched on his face.

“Did you even hear what we were talking about?” Hoseok’s question hangs in the air, a lifeline thrown to a drifting mind. He glances around at the others, a silent plea for confirmation that you’re still tethered to the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” you admit, a genuine apology tinting your words. You glance around at the concerned faces of your friends, a slight frown forming on Namjoon’s forehead.

“No, my mind was elsewhere,” you confess, your eyes momentarily dropping to the beer bottle in your hand. A swirl of conflicting emotions dances in your gaze – the weight of unspoken worries, the fear of the unknown, and the delicate balance of a secret you’re not ready to share.

“Something going on?” Seokjin’s question hangs in the air, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. Normally, their fond and caring hearts would be a source of comfort, but at this moment, you wish for solitude.

The weight of immense turmoil presses against your chest, and you offer a weak smile to mask the turbulence within.

Your heart flutters, caught between the comfort of their understanding and the fortress of secrets you’ve built around yourself. The crackling of the fire seems to intensify, a background chorus to the unspoken truth lingering in the night air.

“No, I’m fine,” you assert, but your attempt at a reassuring smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The weight of unspoken thoughts sits heavily on your shoulders.

“Just tired,” you add, stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to shake off the invisible burden. The forced yawn escapes, a theatrical touch to your performance.

As you exhale, the weariness is palpable, not just in your body but in the weary creases that temporarily mar your forehead.

You catch Yoongi’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes betray a hint of concern. It’s a silent exchange, a language only the two of you understand.

Worried stares linger for a moment, probing, questioning. You deflect them with a half-hearted smile, a feeble attempt to reassure both yourself and your friends. Thankfully, they relent, returning to their earlier discussion with an air of nonchalance. It’s a welcome diversion, giving you a momentary respite from the mounting unease.

But as your friends immerse themselves in chatter, your attention is captivated by Yoongi. His gaze, softer and more perceptive than the others, lingers on you with an understanding that goes beyond words. In the depths of his eyes, you sense an unspoken connection, a recognition that he, too, perceives the silent storm brewing within you.

As the aroma of grilled meats fills the air, your thoughts drift away, carried on the scent of uncertainty. The upcoming days loom ahead, casting a shadow on your once carefree demeanor.

Each passing moment feels like a countdown, the ticking clock resonating with the pounding of your anxious heart. The idea of taking a pregnancy test, a seemingly simple act, now carries the weight of your fate.

A symphony of laughter erupts, a harmonious cacophony that almost mimics a melody. Your gaze sweeps across the group, catching each friend lost in the infectious mirth. Their joy is palpable, manifested in hearty belly laughs and eyes crinkled with delight.

However, as your eyes dart over to Yoongi, you notice a stark contrast.

His demeanor doesn’t mirror the jovial atmosphere; instead, his expression remains stoic, a subtle tension etched on his features.

Your gaze flits from one friend to another, their laughter echoing in the warm air. They share an inside joke, a moment of camaraderie that has eluded you. A subtle unease settles in your chest, the feeling of being adrift in a sea of amusement, disconnected.

Caught in the undertow of your own thoughts, you find yourself lost in the laughter, unable to decipher the humor that dances between them. It’s not just a missed punchline; it’s a fleeting moment of connection slipping through your fingers.

Hoseok’s eyes light up like twin stars as he bursts out, “Now, that’s a brilliant idea!”

His voice, brimming with infectious enthusiasm, resonates through the campsite, attempting to suppress the laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. His shoulders shake slightly with restrained mirth, and a mischievous gleam dances in his eyes, hinting at the amusement he’s struggling to contain.

The air crackles with the energy of the moment, as if Hoseok’s excitement has sparked a lively current that electrifies the entire campfire. The others catch on, their own laughter simmering beneath the surface.

You turn your gaze to Hoseok, brows furrowed in both wonder and confusion. “What’s the brilliant idea?” you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity, as if you’re about to embark on an unexpected adventure.

Hoseok grins mischievously, his laughter evolving into soft chuckles. “We were thinking of giving you and Yoongi some alone time tomorrow,” he suggests, the glint in his eyes hinting at a secret plan.

Seokjin smirks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“So you can,” he begins, drawing out the words with a pause for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes at his theatrics, but then he raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Suddenly, your ears and cheeks flash red as you realize the implication of his words, and the campfire bursts into laughter, leaving you caught in a delightful mix of embarrassment and amusement.

They all burst into laughter, and you catch Yoongi rolling his eyes with a mock sigh.

You wish the ground would just swallow you up, but you manage a playful glare in his direction. “Thanks for the moral support,” you mutter under your breath, earning a teasing grin from Yoongi, who clearly enjoys the banter as much as the others enjoy the spectacle.

Yoongi nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, his ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ attitude on full display. You’re well aware he truly doesn’t care about the teasing, but no matter how many times your friends crack jokes about your intimate life, it never gets less awkward.

You shoot Yoongi a sideways glance, raising an eyebrow.

“Really? This again?” you quip, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. It’s a game you all play, and deep down, you know it’s all in good fun. Yet, you can’t help but wonder if they’ll ever tire of it.

“You seem like you could use it,” Namjoon adds, his voice laced with concern as he gently nudges your shoulder.

You’ve buried your face in your hands, hoping the shield of your palms could protect you from the lingering embarrassment. The laughter of your friends echoes around you, but you can’t bring yourself to look up just yet.

The warmth of Namjoon’s touch seeps through your hands, a comforting gesture amidst the teasing storm. As you finally gather the courage to peek through your fingers, you catch a glimpse of his reassuring smile, a silent understanding passing between friends. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate the bonds you’ve built, even if they come with their fair share of playful ribbing.

“Please don’t say stuff like that.”

You plead, the cringe evident in your voice as you instinctively recoil. A shiver of discomfort crawls down your spine, and you find yourself desperately wishing for an escape from the awkwardness that lingers in the air.

The weight of their words presses on you, and you subtly shift, trying to distance yourself from the subject at hand. The vulnerability of the moment tugs at your conscience, leaving you exposed in the face of their laughter.

“With that stunt you pulled at the restaurant, I think you have a lot of pent up sexual frustration.”

Hoseok chuckles, and the teasing tone in his voice causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, memories of that daring encounter at the restaurant flooding your mind.

The heat rises in your face as you recall the unexpected aftermath, as you had walked out to the table with Yoongi’s cum on your face, and a wave of self-consciousness washes over you.

The campfire suddenly feels too warm, and you find yourself desperately wishing to change the subject. Hoseok’s laughter lingers in the air, a constant reminder of that daring escapade, and you try to suppress the vivid images that threaten to resurface.

“And we would rather not be here when you let off some steam,” Seokjin adds, his laughter echoing through the air. You roll your eyes playfully, a mix of amusement and embarrassment coloring your expression.

The teasing banter continues, and you sense the warmth of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

A fleeting glance at Yoongi reveals his nonchalant demeanor, his composure unbroken. Inspired by his cool attitude, you decide to take a page from his book. With a smirk and a playful glint in your eyes, you raise an eyebrow at your friends, challenging them to bring it on.

“Thanks,” you say with a mischievous glint in your eyes, looking around your friends.

“I could definitely use a good fuck and Yoongi’s thick cock just hits all the right spots,” you chuckle, adding a playful wink to your statement. The campfire falls silent and it’s almost deafening.

“So thank you so much for thinking about my vagina and Yoongi’s dick. It’s really appreciated and we’ll look forward to tomorrow.” You say with a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

As your friends sit in stunned silence, you bask in the unexpected power of your words.

With a confident grin, you raise your beer and offer a casual shrug.

“What can I say? You asked for it!”

Your tone exudes a mix of playful confidence and nonchalance. Meanwhile, Yoongi’s proud gaze intensifies, and you can almost hear him whispering, ‘Well done’ without uttering a word.

As the weight of your words settles in the air, Namjoon breaks the silence with a low whistle. “Well, I guess that’s one way to shut us up,” he chuckles, shaking his head in both disbelief and amusement.

The group erupts into a mixture of nervous laughter and awkward glances, uncertain of how to respond to your unexpected boldness. You’ve found a bottle of ice cold water and take a sip of it, maintaining your confident demeanor, and exchange a knowing glance with Yoongi, who seems thoroughly entertained by the unfolding scene.

The remainder of the meal unfolds in a symphony of laughter, shared stories, and the clinking of utensils against plates. Conversations shift seamlessly between topics, from future plans to nostalgic memories. The camaraderie of your group takes center stage, overshadowing the earlier teasing.

Each moment is filled with genuine connection, reminding you of the unique bond you share.

The midday sun casts a warm glow over your lunch with friends, the flickering flames of the campfire dancing in the background. Laughter intertwines with the aroma of yesterday’s leftovers, creating an atmosphere that is both familiar and tinged with anticipation.

As you savor each bite, you can’t help but feel a subtle tension in the air, a delicate undercurrent that stems from the impending alone time with Yoongi.

Your friends, oblivious to the internal struggle you’re facing, continue to share stories and jokes, but your mind keeps drifting back to the unspoken dilemma that lingers like a shadow.

The prospect of finally being alone with Yoongi excites you, yet the fear of him unraveling your internal turmoil weighs on you.

The crackling fire mirrors the conflicting emotions within you, casting shadows on the faces of your friends. You steal glances at Yoongi, wondering if he senses your unease.

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a golden hue over the campsite as your friends bid you farewell after a satisfying lunch.

There’s a subtle understanding among them, a shared unspoken decision to give you and Yoongi the precious gift of time alone. As they discuss their plans to explore the nearby town, you can’t help but appreciate the warmth of their friendship and the unspoken support they provide.

With cheerful goodbyes, your friends set off, leaving behind a trail of laughter that gradually fades into the distance.

Now, as the tranquility of the campsite settles around you, there’s a palpable shift in the atmosphere. The rustling leaves and distant chirping of birds create a serene backdrop, underscoring the anticipation of the solitude that awaits you and Yoongi.

Turning towards each other, you and Yoongi share a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of the precious moments ahead.

The air is charged with a mix of excitement and intimacy as you prepare for this secluded interlude, grateful for the thoughtfulness of your friends who understood the significance of this time for you and your boyfriend.

As you and Yoongi cocoon yourselves in the comforting confines of Holly, the air becomes infused with a sense of tranquility.

The soft glow of his laptop casts a gentle illumination, creating an intimate bubble within the vehicle. The flickering light from the laptop dances across your faces, casting shadows that playfully intertwine with the laughter and stolen glances.

As Yoongi’s lips graze the delicate expanse of your shoulders, a shiver dances down your spine, eliciting a delicate sigh of contentment.

His nuzzles become a tender exploration, mapping the contours of familiarity that make your body a cherished landscape for him. The warmth of his touch creates a cocoon, enveloping you in a sanctuary where time seems to linger.

You revel in the softness of the moment, the gentle pressure of Yoongi’s affectionate gestures making you feel cherished and understood. The rhythmic pattern of his nuzzles mirrors the quiet cadence of your breaths, creating a silent language that speaks volumes in the tranquil cocoon you’ve woven together.

Yoongi’s fingers, like skilled maestros, trail a symphony of comfort across your shoulder, their tender dance ascending to the curve of your neck.

As his touch transforms into a soothing massage, you feel the knots of tension unravel beneath his fingertips. The rhythmic kneading becomes a balm, dissolving the worries that had taken residence in the recesses of your mind.

In the gentle cadence of his strokes, you find a haven where each movement is a whispered assurance, a silent promise that you’re not alone in whatever may be troubling you.

The warmth of his hands carries an unspoken invitation to share the burdens of your heart, creating a space where vulnerability is embraced. As his fingers work their magic, the stresses of the day seem to dissipate, carried away on the currents of his affectionate touch.

The sensation is both physical and emotional, a tangible reminder that you have someone by your side who cares deeply for you.

Yoongi’s voice, soft and laced with concern, further reinforces the sanctuary of this moment.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

He inquires, his words a lifeline thrown into the sea of your thoughts. The genuine curiosity in his eyes invites you to open up, to let the weight of your troubles be shared and lightened by the strength of your bond.

In the cocoon of Yoongi’s touch, you find solace and a momentary escape from the complexities swirling within. His fingers, tracing soothing patterns on your shoulder, evoke sensations that transcend the physical.

As you sink deeper into the bliss of his massage, the barriers around your heart momentarily soften, allowing vulnerability to seep through.

“I don’t want to talk about it yet.” You confess, the words slipping from your lips like a whispered secret. The timbre of your voice, tinted with a mixture of fragility and desire, hangs in the air. In this moment, you feel pliable, molded by his care and affection.

With a tenderness that mirrors the flickering warmth of a candle, Yoongi turns your gaze toward his, locking eyes with a sincerity that speaks volumes. His touch is both a reassurance and an unspoken promise, a reminder that within this cocoon of shared vulnerability, there exists a haven for your thoughts and emotions.

“Okay.” He utters, the word carrying the weight of understanding and patience. In the silent exchange of glances, there’s a recognition that time unfolds at its own pace, and the space he provides is a canvas for your unspoken words to manifest.

As he cradles your face in his hands, his touch becomes a conduit for reassurance, a silent pledge that he’ll be there when you decide to unravel the intricacies of your thoughts.

“I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”

The depth of his gaze invites trust, assuring you that this haven isn’t bound by a ticking clock or the urgency of spoken words.

In the quiet cocoon of Holly, gratitude for Yoongi blooms within you like a delicate flower. His intuitive understanding, the way he navigates the uncharted waters of your emotions, is a testament to the depth of his love. It’s more than just appreciation; it’s a profound acknowledgment of the bond you share.

As you rest against him, the subtle rise and fall of his chest a comforting rhythm, the weight of your feelings finds solace. His ability to read the unspoken nuances, to dance with the ebb and flow of your emotions, is a symphony of understanding.

It’s not just about giving you space; it’s about crafting a sanctuary where vulnerability is met with patience, and time is a gentle companion.

In these moments, the love you harbor for him swells, an ocean of emotions that transcends the need for words. His presence becomes a balm, soothing the edges of uncertainty, and you find yourself enveloped in a warmth that extends beyond the physical.

You revel in the simplicity of his knowing glances and the way he respects the sacredness of your thoughts. It’s the silent assurance that he’ll stand by you, unmoved by the passing seconds, until you’re ready to unfurl the chapters of your heart.

“I can help you take your mind off whatever’s troubling you?”

His lips linger on yours, leaving the taste of warmth and affection as a gentle reminder that in his embrace, solace awaits. The simplicity of his offer carries a wealth of unspoken understanding, a silent promise to be your anchor in the sea of uncertainties.

As he speaks those words, his eyes, windows to a soul that intimately knows yours, search for a sign in the language only you two share.

There’s an invitation in the way he holds you, an unspoken pledge to share the weight of your troubles.

Perhaps, in the sanctuary of each other’s presence, you can find respite from the storm brewing within. His touch, a soothing melody, offers an escape into a realm where words are unnecessary, where the language of love becomes a salve for the wounds of the heart.

You consider his offer, the genuine concern etched on his face, and for a moment, you allow yourself to be carried away by the prospect of a temporary reprieve.

The weight of his desire reflects in the shadowed depth of his gaze, a silent confession that transcends words. His eyes, normally a window to his soul, now betray the subtle dance of passion and want. As you lock eyes with him, you find yourself ensnared in the magnetic pull of his longing, a current that sparks anticipation.

The soft droop of his eyelids harbors a secret world, one where desire takes the lead and whispers promises only lovers understand. There’s a languid rhythm to the way his gaze caresses, each blink a heartbeat echoing the pulse of the moment.

In the subdued light, the flames of passion flicker within those dark orbs, leaving an indelible impression of the fire that smolders beneath the surface. You feel the intensity of his silent plea, a plea that beckons you to acknowledge the uncharted territory where your desires intertwine.

“I wouldn’t say no to that.”

A playful chuckle escapes your lips, a mischievous melody that dances in the air, echoing the lighthearted rhythm of your connection.

As you lean in, your teeth graze the edge of his bottom lip, not just in a tease, but in a silent declaration of your shared desire. The playful nip is a prelude to the symphony of sensations waiting to unfold.

His responding grunt is a low, primal note, a testament to the delicious tension building between you.

As you pull away, a knowing glint in your eyes, you leave behind a promise lingering in the air—a promise of the unrestrained passion that simmers just beneath the surface, waiting to be set free.

“Then lay down and let me make you forget your own name.”

A surge of anticipation electrifies the air as his words wrap around you, a sultry promise that sends shivers down your spine. The confidence in his voice resonates, a magnetic force pulling you deeper into the allure of the moment. You surrender to the rhythm of his suggestion, feeling the weight of the world lifting as he guides you gently to recline.

His eyes, dark pools of anticipation, reflect a hunger that transcends the constraints of time. There’s a deliberate slowness to his movements, a silent vow to savor every nuance of pleasure that unfolds between you.

As he expertly slides down your sweatpants (you did not steal those from Yoongi, you swear!) he unveils your desire-laden form, leaving you in nothing but your panties. The room seems to hum with a charged energy as his eyes meet yours, the spark of lust reflected in that magnetic gaze.

Your longing gaze locks onto him, capturing the fiery essence of your arousal. His long, ebony locks frame his handsome face.

“You know you’re so damn beautiful, right?”

He murmurs, his fingers orchestrating a slow, tantalizing symphony as they traverse the path from your toes, ascending with deliberate grace up the landscape of your legs. Each stroke is a promise, a prelude that sends a shiver of anticipation racing through your veins, your skin awakening with goosebumps.

The sensation is electric, every inch of your skin tingling with anticipation. The journey of his touch creates a symphony of shivers that dance in harmonious tandem with your rising desire.

Your cheeks flush with a rosy hue as his gaze lingers on your legs. Feeling a twinge of self-consciousness, you stammer, “Um, don’t pay too much attention to my legs. I haven’t shaved recently,” your words escape in a hushed admission, and you instinctively attempt to shield your face from his gaze.

His fingers delicately peel away the protective shield you’ve built with your hands, revealing your blushing cheeks and the vulnerability that lingers in your eyes.

A soft hiss escapes his lips, and his gaze intensifies with a fiery determination. “I don’t care,” he declares, his voice a low, husky murmur that hangs in the air, “every inch of you is beautiful.”

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your eyes with an affectionate gaze. He reassures you, his fingers tracing a delicate path along your jawline, his touch a comforting affirmation that transcends the superficial.

There’s an intensity in his words, a raw honesty that sends shivers down your spine.

A soft moan escapes your lips in response to his words, the praise sinking into the depths of your being. Your breath quickens, and a tingling warmth begins to pool between your thighs, a visceral reaction to the arousal ignited by his intimate acknowledgment.

The air around you thickens with anticipation, and you can feel the subtle friction as your panties cling to your skin, a tactile reminder of the desire that courses through your veins.

His hands, like gentle phantoms, trace tantalizing patterns over the fabric covering your core. The teasing caresses send shivers down your spine, creating an electric dance of anticipation on your skin.

As his fingers weave through the unseen pathways, you find yourself instinctively arching your back, a silent plea for more, a desire that threads through the very fibers of your being.

Each feather-light stroke becomes a whisper of promises, a seductive invitation that beckons you to surrender to the impending ecstasy. The subtle friction against your clothed core intensifies the yearning, creating a magnetic pull that draws you closer to the edge of desire.

The anticipation in the room crescendos as Yoongi, his eyes heavy with desire, firmly grips the edge of your panties.

A subtle yet deliberate tug sends a thrill through your body, and you instinctively arch your back, offering yourself to him in a silent dance of longing. Your ass lifts in a graceful surrender, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words, inviting him to unveil the secrets hidden beneath the fabric.

He slowly peels your panties down your legs, each inch of exposed skin kindling the flames of desire. His unhurried touch is both a torment and a pleasure, awakening a craving within you that only he can satisfy.

The fabric trails over your thighs, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. As your panties reach your ankles, you find yourself teetering on the edge of vulnerability and excitement, the cool air of the room caressing the newly exposed skin.

The pace is torturous, yet the sweet torment only adds to the fervor of your need for him. Your breath catches, and your heart pounds in rhythm with the silent crescendo of desire, as he takes his time, savoring every moment of the seduction.

Yoongi’s lips descend with a feather-light touch, igniting a cascade of sensations that ripple through your core. The warmth of his breath, coupled with the gentle press of his lips against your clit, creates an electrifying dance between pleasure and anticipation.

“Already so damn wet for me.”

His words, a whispered declaration against your skin, send a jolt of desire straight through you. The tenderness in his kiss contrasts with the building heat, a delicious paradox that has your body responding eagerly to his every move. Your body aches for the touch of his hands, for the intimacy that promises to follow his seductive declaration.

As he explores the delicate contours of your pussy, his hands expertly coax your legs apart, allowing for an unhindered journey into the realms of ecstasy.

The velvety caress of his tongue on your most sensitive spot sends shockwaves of pleasure cascading through you. Your body, a canvas for his artistry, responds with an involuntary moan, a testament to the electric connection forged between you.

Each languid stroke, each artful flick, becomes a brushstroke painting a masterpiece of desire.

With an artful blend of tenderness and hunger, he delves into the intimate landscape, leaving no territory uncharted. The sight of him, a devoted architect of pleasure, navigating the peaks and valleys of your pussy, etches a sinful image in your memory, a visual symphony that resonates with the raw, primal energy between you.

His exploration is thorough, a sacred pilgrimage that transforms your most intimate sanctuaries into altars of pleasure.

As his tongue dances with purpose, each exquisite movement sends ripples of pleasure through your body, eliciting gasps and moans that punctuate the charged air.

Your fingers entwine in the velvety strands of his midnight-black hair, a tactile dance that blurs the lines between pain and pleasure. The sensation of your grip sends a seismic shiver through him, a tangible expression of the fusion between your desire and his arousal.

His groan, a harmonious blend of both agony and ecstasy, resonates in the intimate space between you.

His adept tongue orchestrates a tantalizing symphony, each rhythmic stroke sending waves of pleasure through your core. The artful dance of his lips and tongue creates a crescendo of desire, a masterful performance that leaves you gasping for breath.

As he delves deeper into the artistry of your desire, his movements evoke the most primal and exquisite sounds — a melodic fusion of slurping and sighs that harmonize with the symphony of your escalating pleasure.

In the languid exploration of your body, his tender touch becomes a testament to the depth of his affection. Each deliberate caress is a celebration of intimacy, as if he’s unraveling the layers of your being to expose the essence of your bond.

The unhurried pace of his movements whispers of a profound appreciation for the canvas of your skin, savoring every nuance as if committing the map of your body to memory.

The love you feel for him, and the love he showers upon you, intertwine like vines, creating a tapestry of shared passion that envelops both of you in its rich, intricate patterns.

As you lie there, engulfed in the warmth of his adoration, an unexpected realization strikes you — he possesses the qualities of an extraordinary lover and, perhaps, an incredible father.

Your mind, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, begins to spiral. It’s not a descent into chaos; rather, it’s an ascent into your possible future. The thought flickers through your mind like a gentle flame, casting a soft glow on the image of your shared moments. How loving he would be towards a child, how amazing he would be. You can feel the telltale signs of anxiousness slowly seeping into your body.

In this moment, you can’t help but acknowledge the depth of your feelings for him. Damn, you love him so much.

As Yoongi tenderly explores the landscape of your pussy, your mind, like an unwelcome guest, insists on revisiting the uncertainties that have been haunting you. The touch that should be a remedy becomes a battleground between the present moment and the lingering worries that threaten to steal your focus.

In this emotional tug-of-war, you find yourself caught between the desire to surrender to the sensations and the compulsion to confront the uncertainties head-on.

As Yoongi’s skilled touch ventures into your warm walls, your senses respond with an electrifying awareness. The moment he slips a finger inside, a surge of pleasure cascades through you, momentarily eclipsing the persistent thoughts that have plagued your mind.

The explicit bond between you and Yoongi becomes a lifeline, grounding you in the immediate sensations that demand your attention.

“Ah, fuck,” you moan, wanting more of his electrifying touch.

In a slow and deliberate rhythm, Yoongi withdraws his finger, creating an exquisite tension that leaves you yearning for more. The anticipation builds as he re-enters, his finger becoming a conduit for both pleasure and promise.

With every measured thrust, the world around you blurs, and the only reality is the electrifying connection between you and him.

As his finger dances within you, the dual sensation of his intimate exploration and the tantalizing strokes on your clit forms a harmonious symphony of ecstasy. It’s a delicate balance between sweet torture and the promise of release, a dance that makes you teeter on the edge of losing yourself entirely.

Your mind, once clouded with uncertainty, now revels in the intoxicating sensations he elicits.

Each stroke of his finger becomes a stroke of liberation, freeing you from the shackles of doubt and leading you into a realm where pleasure reigns supreme.

As he introduces a second finger into the dance of pleasure, a new dimension of sensation unfolds. The subtle stretch sends tendrils of pleasure through you, and you find yourself instinctively meeting his every thrust.

His fingers, now working in tandem, navigate the depths of your pussy with an intimate familiarity. Each calculated movement is a testament to his skill, an artful exploration of your most sensitive realms.

As he delves deeper, you can’t help but surrender to the crescendo of pleasure building within you. The hunger for more intensifies, an insatiable craving that propels you both into uncharted territory.

The precipice of pleasure looms ever nearer, a tantalizing edge that threatens to consume you entirely. Every caress, every thrust brings you to the brink, and the intensity becomes almost overwhelming. The electric current of desire courses through your veins, a pulsating reminder of the ecstasy that hangs in the air.

Your breaths come in shallow gasps, mirroring the urgency of your body’s response to the impending release.

“Yoon, I’m so close!”

The words escape your lips in breathless pants, carried on the wings of passion that envelop both of you in a cocoon of desire.

The room is filled with the husky hum of satisfaction as he skillfully introduces a third finger into the delicate equation, causing your breath to hitch in a symphony of pleasure.

The subtle, rhythmic sound of your mewls, like a sweet melody, harmonizes with the intoxicating atmosphere of shared desire.

A whirlwind of thoughts engulfs your mind, a tempest of emotions and musings that dance in a chaotic waltz. It’s as if a storm of contemplation has descended upon the landscape of your consciousness, leaving you breathless and slightly disoriented.

His teasing suction on your clit becomes a rhythmic pulse, each pull and release sending ripples of sensation through your body. Your spine arches involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the pleasure that courses through you like a current.

Your breath catches in your throat, a melody of moans and gasps escaping in harmony with the rising pleasure.

You’re losing yourself in the cadence of pleasure, surrendering to the rising tide that threatens to pull you under.

As his fingers expertly navigate the landscape of your pussy, seeking out the elusive treasure of your G-spot, the anticipation within you becomes a taut string, ready to unravel in the most euphoric crescendo.

Each deliberate stroke against your G-spot is a seismic pulse, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core.

The knot in your stomach tightens with every rhythmic press of his fingers, the tension reaching a point where it can no longer withstand the impending release.

As the wave of climax crashes over you, every muscle in your body tightens, a testament to the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The sheer power of the moment finds its voice in a raw, unrestrained scream of his name, a primal melody that reverberates through the van. The sound is a visceral release, an unbridled declaration of pleasure that echoes in the air.

Simultaneously, your vision blurs, the world reduced to a kaleidoscope of colors as tears stream down your cheeks.

In the aftermath of your climax, Yoongi moves with a swiftness that speaks volumes about his care and concern.

He withdraws from your core, his face adorned with the glistening remnants of your orgasm. The concern etched across his features mirrors the tenderness in his touch as he strokes your cheeks, his fingertips collecting the tear-streaked evidence of your emotional release.

“What’s wrong, babe?” he inquires, his voice a gentle melody that resonates with genuine care.

As the haze of passion begins to dissipate, you become acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face, each droplet a silent witness to the complex interplay of pleasure and emotion.

It’s a realization that unfolds gradually, like the petals of a delicate flower unfurling under the touch of the morning sun.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Yoongi’s concerned gaze, the soft orbs reflecting a myriad of emotions—care, tenderness, and a silent inquiry. The unspoken question hangs in the air, inviting you to share the intricate tapestry of feelings that now envelop you.

As you tenderly cup his face, the warmth of your touch conveying a myriad of unspoken emotions, you draw him into a soft, lingering kiss. The sensation is a delicate dance, a symphony of lips meeting in a silent exchange that transcends the need for words. In that fleeting moment, the world outside ceases to exist, and all that remains is the intimate connection between your souls.

As your lips meet, there’s a subtle play of emotions on his face—confusion mingled with a growing awareness. It’s as if your kiss serves as a revelation, unraveling layers of uncertainty and paving the way for a deeper understanding.

“I’m…” you choke on the words, the weight of them hanging heavy in the air. Your voice trembles, a symphony of vulnerability as you muster the courage to confess, “I’m late.”

He sits up on his knees, the subtle play of emotions flickering across his face—confusion, concern, and a tinge of fear that he’s trying to mask.

The world around you seems to pause, caught in the gravity of the revelation. The soft glow of the room casts shadows on his features, emphasizing the lines of his furrowed brow and the intensity of his gaze.

“My period.” You exhale the words, each syllable a confession carrying the weight of uncertainty. The air in the van seems to crystallize as the truth hangs in the space between you two, a revelation that both defines and challenges the contours of your shared reality.

There’s a palpable shift, a seismic ripple that traverses the emotional landscape.

As you release those two words into the room, you can almost sense the burden lifting from your shoulders, the unspoken fears and the silent cacophony of questions dissipating.

Yoongi’s ‘oh’ escapes his lips like a subtle revelation, a key turning in the lock of understanding. His laughter, a melodic cascade of mirth, breaks the tension that hangs in the air, diffusing it like a gust of wind through a dense forest. As he laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners, and you can’t help but be captivated by the sheer joy that emanates from him.

You turn to him, an arched brow, an unspoken inquiry, a silent prompt for an explanation to unravel the mystery of his amusement.

“Is this what has been on your mind lately?”

Yoongi’s chuckle resonates in the air, wrapping the room in a light, casual ambiance. As the sound tickles your ears, you find yourself frowning, an unexpected twist in his reaction catching you off guard. This wasn’t the response you anticipated, and it leaves a flicker of confusion in your eyes.

His chuckle, like a riddle yet to be unraveled, compels you to seek clarity. The lines on his face soften into a playful smile, but you sense there’s more beneath the surface—layers of emotion waiting to be uncovered.

You gracefully sit up, your hands instinctively finding support behind you. As you rise, there’s a subtle grace in your movements, a dance of poise and strength.

His voice, a soothing melody, envelops you in a comforting embrace as he reassures, “It’s okay, babe.” There’s an innate understanding in his tone, a blend of empathy and strength that makes you feel seen and supported.

As he utters those words, his eyes become a safe haven, inviting you to share the weight of your concerns. You notice a subtle glint of concern, a reflection of his genuine care for your well-being. It’s not just a question; it’s an invitation to share the burden, a bridge to traverse the uncertain terrain together.

“Have you taken a test yet?”

Your head shakes with a slow, deliberate motion, a silent admission that echoes in the stillness between you two. “We haven’t really been close to a store these couple of days,” you mumble, your words carrying the weight of circumstance and a touch of vulnerability.

Yoongi’s voice carries a soothing cadence, a melody of reassurance that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

“Then you can take one when we get to Ansan, and then we’ll know, okay?” His words resonate with a mix of tenderness and practicality, casting a lifeline of certainty in the sea of uncertainties.

Your voice trembles with genuine curiosity as you turn to Yoongi, searching for the calm center in the storm of your emotions.

“How are you so okay with this?” The question lingers in the air, heavy with the weight of your uncertainty.

“I told you before. I want kids, so I don’t mind. And I love you,” his voice, filled with a sincere tenderness, caresses your ears like a cherished melody, a symphony of reassurance. As Yoongi’s words wash over you, carrying the warmth of his love, you find yourself enchanted by the sincerity in his voice.

“I love you too!”

Your words spill forth like a cascade, infused with a passion that dances in the air. The sincerity in your voice creates a melody that resonates in the space between you and Yoongi, a sweet harmony of shared emotions. He can’t help but chuckle, a tender sound that mingles with the affectionate atmosphere, like a secret language only the two of you understand.

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together. Pregnancy or not, I want to be with you,” he declares, sealing his words with a kiss that carries the weight of unwavering commitment.

“Now lay back down so I can make sweet love to you,” he murmurs with a playful slap on your ass, drawing a light chuckle from you. As you comply with his request, the air crackles with anticipation, and the van seems to buzz with the shared energy of desire.

With your tears now dried, a renewed sense of elation washes over you, lifting you into a state of weightlessness. The earlier worries and anxieties have dissipated, leaving behind a serene anticipation for his tender touch.

With a subtle yet confident movement, he draws you back up, skillfully assisting you in shedding your shirt. The air crackles with a charged energy as he guides you back down, each motion deliberate and unhurried.

As he hovers above, fully clothed, a sudden intensity sweeps over the room.

He descends urgently, his lips finding yours in a searing kiss that eclipses time. The embrace is fervent, a fusion of desire and hunger. He bites your bottom lip, a delicious intrusion that elicits a gasp, and as your mouths meld, tongues entwining in an intricate dance, the van seems to vibrate with the electric charge of longing.

His moan reverberates within you, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

His hands travel down your body, his destination becomes clear as his lips find your breasts. A wave of pleasure courses through you as he takes one of them into his mouth, his tongue dancing with a rhythmic intensity. Simultaneously, his hand expertly caresses and squeezes the other, creating a symphony of sensations that leaves you breathless, lost in the exquisite rhythm of his touch.

His mouth envelops your nipple, coaxing it into a hard bud as he skillfully circles his tongue around it. The teasing bites send electric pulses of pleasure through your body, and you can’t help but moan in ecstasy.

A surge of arousal courses through your body, igniting every nerve and leaving you acutely aware of the growing intensity between you and Yoongi.

It’s as if a tidal wave of desire has been unleashed, sweeping away any lingering tension and leaving only the magnetic pull drawing you both closer.

Yoongi shifts his attention to your other breast, and a shiver runs down your spine as his skillful tongue creates a tingling sensation that sends waves of pleasure through your body. Each gentle bite and swirl of his tongue feels like a carefully orchestrated symphony, and you can’t help but arch your back in response to the electrifying pleasure he’s unleashing.

Your breath quickens, and the anticipation of another orgasm builds within you.

Yoongi, attuned to your heightened arousal, allows his free hand to navigate the landscape of your pussy. With deliberate intent, his fingers find your throbbing clit, and a jolt of pleasure courses through you as he gives it a teasing pinch.

The dual sensations from both his mouth on your breast and his skilled fingers dancing on your most sensitive spot send shivers down your spine, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“Ah!” an involuntary cry of pleasure escapes your lips, a raw and unfiltered expression of the ecstasy coursing through your body. Your breaths come in ragged pants, each exhale a testament to the overwhelming sensations Yoongi is coaxing from you.

His fingers dance skillfully over your clit, expertly pushing you closer to the edge. Simultaneously, his warm tongue flicks sensuously across your nipple, intensifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

In a crescendo of sensation, the knot in your stomach unravels, and you succumb to the powerful waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

Ecstasy courses through every fiber of your being, causing your toes to curl involuntarily. Your breath comes in hurried pants, and the world around you blurs into a hazy abstraction.

As you slowly open your eyes, you find yourself ensnared in the gaze of Yoongi, his eyes reflecting an ocean of love that threatens to engulf your very soul. In those deep pools of affection, you sense an unwavering connection, a silent promise that transcends words.

“I don’t think it’s fair that I’m the only one completely naked,” chuckling, you playfully swat at Yoongi’s sculpted chest.

With a surge of desire, you sit up, pushing him backward. The room crackles with anticipation as you grab his shirt, flinging it haphazardly onto the bed. Your lips crash against his in a hungry kiss, an unspoken urgency that reveals the depths of your longing for his touch.

Your fingers trail a fiery path down his chest. The heat between you intensifies as your hands venture lower, reaching the confines of his pants where a pronounced bulge yearns to be released—a silent plea echoing the passion that simmers beneath the surface.

In a fleeting moment of daring desire, you tease him with the tantalizing touch of your hand through the fabric, evoking a frustrated moan that hangs in the air. With an intoxicating mix of boldness and anticipation, you deftly pull down his pants and boxers, unveiling his throbbing dick.

As the last barrier of clothing drops away, leaving him gloriously exposed before you, he joins in the mirth, a playful chuckle escaping his lips. With an affectionate gleam in his eyes, he guides you back down, eager to continue the symphony of passion that has only just begun.

As his lips meet yours in a tender dance, his eyes lock onto yours, a silent exchange of emotions passing between those beautiful orbs. In that moment, it’s as if the entire cosmos is reflected in the depths of your gaze, and the world outside fades into insignificance.

As he reaches for a condom, you raise a questioning eyebrow at him.

“One last time before we find out if you’re pregnant or not?”

With a playful smirk, Yoongi holds the foil in front of you, his question hanging in the air like a sweet promise.

As the anticipation lingers in the air, you find yourself questioning the necessity of the condom. The unspoken desire for a deeper connection, to feel him without barriers, tugs at your thoughts. Yet, you understand the significance of this moment, a delicate balance between shared passion and the impending revelation.

It’s a bittersweet dance, the choice wrapped in a poignant acknowledgment of the unknown future, making this last embrace all the more meaningful.

“Fine, one last time then.”

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you surrender to the shared decision.

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you wrap your fingers around his impressive hardness. A playful stroke elicits a deep, appreciative moan from him, resonating in the air like a sweet melody of desire.

His breath hitches, and he whispers, “You don’t have to, babe,” the words laced with desire.

“I still want you to forget your name,” he whispers against your ear, his breath creating a delicate dance of sensations that sends shivers down your spine.

You hum, a pleased and sultry melody resonating through your words. “But I want to. Please let me suck you; you taste so good.”

He pants, his breath hitched with a blend of desire and amusement.

“Fuck,” he mutters, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “How can I say no to those sweet eyes and that dirty mouth of yours?”

With a languid motion, he settles back on the bed, creating an inviting space for you between his well-defined legs.

You crawl between his legs, a mischievous smirk playing on your lips. Slowly, sensually, you run your tongue along the length of his throbbing dick, savoring the moment before releasing a teasing droplet of saliva that glistens in the soft light.

You take him into your mouth in one smooth, deliberate motion, the warmth and wetness engulfing his cock entirely. A primal hiss escapes his lips, a symphony of pleasure echoing in the van as you work your magic.

With determination, you savor the taste of his precum, deciding to be bolder. You inch your way down, taking him deeper until your nose brushes against his coarse pubic hair.

As you breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, the obscene sounds escaping him become a symphony that resonates through your core.

His fingers entwine in your hair, tugging gently, a visceral reminder of the intimate connection between you.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, the praise dripping with desire and approval. The sensation of his touch, both tender and possessive, sends shivers down your spine, creating a delicious tension in the air.

As you pull away, a satisfying pop resonates in the room, accompanied by the symphony of your shared breaths. Gasping for air, you meet his gaze, and a playful chuckle escapes his lips, filling the space like a melody that only the two of you understand.

You plunge eagerly, your tongue tracing a sinuous dance around his length, creating a tantalizing symphony of pleasure. As you hum with a subtle vibration, the sensations reverberate, amplifying the intensity of the moment.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice a low rasp as you feel his dick twitching in your mouth.

You pull away once more, savoring the moment, and playfully trace the contours of the head of his dick with your tongue. Without further delay, you take him back into your mouth, the shared pleasure deepening with each devoted stroke.

You sense his hands in your hair, a gentle yet urgent pull, as he tries to guide you upward.

“As much as I love your mouth on my dick, I really want to make love to you.”

He murmurs, drawing your head towards his, initiating a fervent kiss. The taste of himself on your tongue is a fleeting reminder, you know he doesn’t mind, it only fuels the passion between you.

He presses you gently into the sheets, the heat between you intensifying. With a swift motion, he retrieves the discarded foil from the tangled sheets, tearing it open before expertly rolling the condom onto his cock.

As he lines up his dick with your eager entrance, a shiver of anticipation courses through both of you. With deliberate slowness, he eases into your folds, a dance of pleasure that draws out the exquisite tension in the air.

The languid pace of his movements creates a sweet agony, a tantalizing dance that turns seconds into eternity. His unhurried rhythm, though almost maddening, speaks volumes of his desire to etch this time into the very fabric of your memories, turning the passage of time into a canvas for your passion.

Ecstasy courses through your veins as he delves deeper, the exquisite stretch sending a shiver down your spine. A symphony of sensations unfolds, and a breathy moan escapes your lips, a testament to the delicious ache that accompanies the perfect alignment of your bodies.

With each rhythmic thrust, he unearths your most sensitive places, creating a euphoric melody that resonates with the primal rhythm of desire.

Your voice, laced with a desperate plea, dances in the air as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you moan, the words a fervent hymn to the ecstasy that engulfs you.

His grunt reverberates through the van, primal and intense, echoing the raw desire coursing through both of you. He begins to thrust with a tantalizing combination of slow, deliberate movements and rapid, passionate surges.

Every deliberate movement is a languid dance, a symphony of intimacy orchestrated by his tender touch. The deliberate pace allows you both to savor every sensation, each gentle thrust a declaration of his love and desire.

As he descends to capture your lips, it feels like a plunge into a world where time stands still. The kiss leaves you breathless, suspended in a moment that defies gravity. It’s not just a meeting of lips; it’s a celestial dance, leaving you weightless, floating in the ethereal connection between you and him.

Your thoughts dissolve into an exquisite haze, the only clarity emerging from the waves of pleasure he orchestrates. It’s as if the symphony of sensations has drowned out everything else, leaving only the echoes of ecstasy reverberating through your mind.

The knot in your stomach, a manifestation of building pleasure, tightens with every deliberate and passionate movement. Your hands instinctively seek solace on his biceps, anchoring you to the reality of the intimate dance unfolding between your entwined bodies.

As he bends down, his warm breath tickles your earlobe, and in a husky whisper, he confesses, “I’m close, babe.”

The words, laden with raw desire, send a delicious shiver down your spine.

In the heated passion of the moment, his kisses are fervent and demanding. As his hands explore your body, a surge of desire courses through you when he skillfully pinches both your nipples with his calloused fingers. The sensation makes you arch your back, an involuntary response to the electrifying pleasure that his touch ignites.

In the throes of ecstasy, you can’t help but vocalize the overwhelming pleasure. Your breathless confession, “I’m close too. It’s so good, Yoongi,” escapes in a sultry melody, a raw expression of the intense pleasure coursing through your veins.

With a skilled move, he shifts his hand from your breasts, seamlessly guiding one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle intensifies every sensation, his every thrust reaching new depths, causing you to release a symphony of moans that echo the escalating pleasure pulsating between you.

“You feel so good around me,” he murmurs, the praise mingling with his ragged breaths. As he maintains the unhurried rhythm, his skilled hand works wonders on your breast.

An electrifying surge courses through you, an unstoppable wave of pleasure crashing into every nerve, leaving you breathless and temporarily adrift in orgasm. As the echoes of ecstasy reverberate through your body, you find yourself in a cocoon of bliss, tethered only by the warmth of Yoongi’s presence above you.

“Fuck!”

Ecstasy courses through him, a guttural exclamation escaping his lips as the rhythmic clenching of your warm walls becomes his undoing. He succumbs to the wave of release, finding solace in the intimacy you both share.

As he releases your leg, it descends gracefully to his side, a silent testament to the shared intensity that just unfolded. Your bodies, now entwined and damp with shared desire, settle into a momentary stillness. His head, heavy with the weight of shared pleasure, finds a resting place atop yours.

He seals the moment with a lingering kiss, a sweet echo of the passion you both just shared. Gently withdrawing from your pussy, he eases himself down beside you, and discards the condom to the floor.

You witness the rhythmic dance of his chest, an intricate ballet choreographed by the ebb and flow of his breaths. Each rise and fall seems like a silent symphony, a testament to the shared intimacy that still lingers in the air.

You gracefully position yourself on his lap, catching him off guard with the sudden move. The subtle sway of your breasts becomes a tantalizing dance, drawing his gaze irresistibly. A mischievous smile plays on your lips, a silent promise of the passion that’s about to unfold.

As you bask in the afterglow, a surge of emotions overwhelms you, and you can’t hold back the confession bubbling within. “I love you so much. No matter what. I’ve loved you for so many years,” you whisper, laying bare the depths of your heart.

His eyes mirror your affection, and a serene “Me too,” escapes his lips, carrying the weight of years and years of longing. With a tender smile, you lean into him to seal the moment with a soft, lingering kiss, sealing your love in the quiet intimacy of the shared space between you two.

Hoseok’s frustration spills out as he declares, “I told you it was a bad idea to take Joonie there; he breaks everything!”

The edge in his voice carries a hint of irritation, directed at Seokjin. As they make their way back to the van, the tension in the air is palpable.

Namjoon, wearied by the perpetual reminders of his purported clumsiness, rolls his eyes. It’s evident that the narrative of him breaking everything has grown stale, and his expression reflects a mix of resignation and mild exasperation.

His steps come to an abrupt halt as the mesmerizing sight unfolds before him. The camp comes into view, revealing a sight that seizes his attention – you, cradled in Yoongi’s arms covered in blankets, perched on a stool by the flickering warmth of the campfire.

The scene, painted with the hues of the dancing flames, captures a moment of intimate togetherness that momentarily holds him captive.

He playfully smacks Hoseok’s chest, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Look at that,” he chuckles, his finger extending to showcase the van standing proudly in the distance.

Seokjin’s eyes soften with warmth as he gazes upon your tranquil figures. “Aw,” he gushes, captivated by the peaceful scene before him.

As you gradually awaken in the cocoon of Yoongi’s warmth, your eyes flutter open to find the circle of your friends seated on stools beside you. Their eyes meet yours, each reflecting a unique blend of affection, camaraderie, and unspoken stories.

Yoongi grunts a sleepy “hi,” his voice carrying the weight of the peaceful slumber you both shared.

Hoseok’s laughter rings out, breaking the serene night air. “Hi, sleepyheads,” he chuckles, searching for a beer in the dimly lit surroundings.

Namjoon’s voice breaks the quiet night, daring to remark, “You look tired and glowing.”

You release a soft breath, snuggling deeper into Yoongi’s pectorals, fingers intertwining with his.

Seokjin begins to utter, “Did you finally f–” but you abruptly cut him off, declaring, “If you finish that sentence, I’m gonna skin you alive and wear your dick like a party hat.”

Your words hit like venom, leaving Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok gasping, their eyes widened as if about to fall out of their sockets.

Yoongi’s chuckles resonate underneath you, the melodic sound wrapping around you like a warm embrace, a symphony you wish would play on a loop for eternity.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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yakuzacanons · 9 months

Text

How They Would Confess Their Feelings To You - Yakuza 0-4

Adding yet another boy to the party. Get ready for my longest post ever.

Kazuma Kiryu: “I don’t know how else to say it... I just... really... like you. I really like you.”

The very definition of palms sweaty. Regardless of your answer, he’s never been more nervous in his life. Honestly wishes he could just hug you and let that alone convey everything he’s ever wanted to say.

He’d try to plan it out, down to picking a day and time and place. He feels a little more confident if he can at least run through how it would go in his mind knowing he picked out the plans for it himself.

Even so, he’ll fumble a little somehow, likely stumbling over his words and kind of just sputtering out his feelings, simultaneously trying to reign it in and let it all out at the same time. He WILL blush.

Majima Goro: “Ya know ya only won ‘cuz you’re cute. Ah, did I just call ya cute? I mean, ya are. Ah, shit, cat’s outta the bag now.”

As upfront as he can be, he’s not stupid either. He likely won’t bothering confessing if he doesn’t think you’d be interested or unless he’s just that crazy about you that he can no longer physically keep it to himself.

He will ask Nishida and Saejima and even Kiryu for advice and then proceed to ignore all of their advice. Secretly, that’s his way of delaying the inevitable because he’s a little nervous.

In the end, he’ll just blurt it out in the heat of the moment. Probably when it’s just you two hanging out, maybe at the batting center, and you beat him at a game. He’ll say something about how it’s a good thing you’re cute or he’d be so mad about losing and then immediately realize what he just said and try to play it cool. If you tease him and say something like “I’m sorry, what did you say?”, he’ll eventually corner you, pull you close and just tell you the truth, almost completely hushed as if he thought you would just disappear once he told you how he really felt.

Saejima Taiga: “I think you’re wonderful and I really like you. You mean a lot to me. I understand if you don’t feel the same. I just wanted you to know.”

When he first realizes he has feelings for you, he’d be all nerves. There would likely be a few times where he would seem unusually unable to speak to you. However, once he finally resigns himself to the truth, he will be composed and calm again.

If Majima catches wind of his feelings, he will absolutely try to give Saejima advice or to try to bug you to see if you feel the same. He’s absolutely into the drama of it all. Saejima pretends it isn’t happening.

His confession will be upfront and to the point. If he’s feeling particularly sappy, maybe he’ll bring flowers. Otherwise, the two of you will meet at a typical hangout spot and when the sun starts to set, he’ll sit you down on a nearby park bench, take a deep breath, and tell you.

Akiyama Shun: “So, I know you already know. I guess I’m still going to have to say it, huh? I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long, long time.”

He’s not exactly a subtle person so at some point you’ll realize he’s at least mildly interested in you. Even though he still hasn’t fully processed his romantic past, he’s also very prone to falling hard and fast for just about anyone. Akiyama just loves love.

By now, he knows you know but he’s afraid to straight out make the first move due to his past. It’s not that he doesn’t think you’d reciprocate. He knows if you weren’t interested, you’d have said so by now. He’s just worried it’ll go south in the end like it always does and he doesn’t want to feel that pain again or put you through all that trouble.

You’ll likely catch him on the rooftop at Sky Finance, having a smoke. He’ll strike up a conversation with you and when there’s a pause, he’ll let you know that he knows that you know. He’s as coy as ever but deep down he secretly hopes you’ll just grab him and hold him close.

Tanimura Masayoshi: “Look, I’ve got to get something off my chest. I don’t know what this is or what to do about it, all I know is I want you by my side.”

Inexperienced and it shows. It’s not that he’s never gone on dates or had crushes or “done it”, so to speak. He’s just never thought very long or hard about serious relationships and the idea of getting serious with you is enough to make his head spin.

As an orphan, he’s used to being so independent but he’ll likely find himself relying on Mei Hua and Zhao for advice. They suggest telling you in person but the thought of getting rejected face to face makes him want to cry.

It may seem cowardly, but he’ll do it over a phone call. He’ll say he has something to tell you and from there the words will just fall out. His stomach will be so full of butterflies that he’s worried a real butterfly might just fly out of his mouth instead of the sound of his words.

Ryuji Goda: “I’m not sure what else to do at this point except tell ya: ya got me wrapped ‘round your finger. No matter what happens, ya have my heart. I’ll always be there. I promise.”

He will absolutely hide his feelings and keep them to himself for as long as possible. Not a single person in the Omi Alliance will know he’s even capable of romantic thoughts. The downside is that means he can’t just ask anyone for advice. Not that he would anyways. Or at least he’d never admit that he needs the help here.

Always the showstopper, he’ll try to flaunt his way into a confession. He’s hoping that flashy gifts and nice dinners will get the point across. Eventually he will realize he’s just going to have to man up and say it.

One night after a lavish dinner, which isn’t out of the ordinary when you’re friends with a man like Ryuji, you’ll be sitting in his private car and he’ll just silently take your hand. The silence will hang in the air for a few brief moments before he finally tells you how he feels.

Mine Yoshitaka: “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t think someone has ever meant as much to me as you do, right here, right now.”

He will secretly envision how his confession will go, even daydreaming while he’s on the job. If he’s brooding quietly in his office despite having no work to do, he’s mentally working out all of the potential options trying to decide what’s the best way to go about this.

Out of all of the boys, he’s the most confident in just accomplishing this himself regardless of the outcome. No advice or help needed here. Mine’s precise and calculating in his approach. As long as he makes his intentions clear to you as openly and honestly as possible, he’s satisfied.

In the end, he decides on inviting you out to his place late at night. He’ll serve up your favorite drink and as he hands it to you, his hand will purposely touch yours and linger for a moment. From there, the words will flow naturally, direct and true but never overly flowery or emotionally overrun.

Daigo Dojima: “I never expected any of this. Suddenly, you came into my life and everything isn’t the same anymore. Truthfully, I’m glad. I never want things to go back to the way they were before I met you.”

Running the Tojo Clan has kept him so busy that he honestly hasn’t found time for love. Despite being one of the youngest members in the clan, his job has greatly limited his chances of exploring the dating scene. A confession is a completely alien concept to him.

For you though, he’s more than willing to try. It’s honestly gotten to a point where the thought of you is outweighing the thought of his work and that’s a problem for more people than just him, especially if you also happen to work for the Tojo Clan. If he doesn’t find a time to tell you, it might just slip on accident and he can’t have that happen, at least not in front of others.

He’ll call you into his office since he can’t get out of work much. It’s also one of the only places where he can be alone with you. He’ll avoid eye contact at first, clearly nervous. If you ask him what’s bothering him, he’ll snap into eye contact with you and just say it effortlessly as if a moment ago he wasn’t nearly wringing his hands in agony at the thought of rejection. His calm gaze won’t leave you until he’s finished talking.

Nishikiyama Akira: “I like being with you... I wish I could be near you like this all of the time. I hope you want that too.”

History has shown that Nishiki isn’t actually that great when it comes to confessing his love. If he waits it out TOO long, you might think he’s disinterested and try to move on. On the other hand, he’s worried he’ll misjudge the situation and move things to fast.

He’ll consider asking for help but decide against it. He’s a man and he’s going to do it his way by himself, rejection be damned. Secretly, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to survive being rejected by you.

Knowing him, he’ll get you a gorgeous necklace and use it as a means to finally tell you. Always one for big gestures, he’ll even go so far as to put the necklace on you himself, standing behind him and gently clasping it before he leans over and gently whispers his true feelings to you. He says it so quietly, unusually so for a man that’s typically so confident looking, as if these words were only for you to hear.

Tachibana Testsu: “I’m glad I got the chance to talk to you alone today. I need to tell you... you’re very important to me. More than you could ever know.”

Always calm and collected, romantic feelings are unusual for him as he rarely gets them but it’s not enough to fully rattle him. He will simply wait for the right time to get you alone and tell you.

He’ll drop hints beforehand, things like a small gift or offering to drive you home. It’s not his way of testing how you may feel but more so to see if he’s going too far by offering those kinds of gestures. If he gets the sense that he’s too much into your personal space, he will back off.

Like Daigo, he’ll likely invite you into his office as he can almost guarantee it’s just you two and he can finally let his guard down. His voice will be calm and smooth as ever but in reality his heart is totally pounding out of his chest. Will simply smile softly if you reciprocate.

Nishitani Homare: “I’m just going to say it: you’re cute as hell. I like ya a lot. Do with that what you will.”

He will definitely flirt with you in an attempt to test the waters. Once he knows he’s got a chance, then it’s only a matter of time before it just slips out. He’ll just feel that comfortable around you that it won’t matter when or where it happens.

Absolutely not a planner. He lives life to the fullest and to an extent his feelings are the same way. When it comes out is when it comes out and if it’s meant to be it’s meant to be. He won’t pressure you at all.

Rejection isn’t a worry for him. He knows he’s just so out there that most people, platonically or romantically, are not sure what to do with him. He’s used to it and honestly expects rejection romantically at this point. However, if you reciprocate, he’ll nervously rub the back of his neck and let out a small laugh, relieved that you feel the same. Now he can really be himself around you.

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captain-mj · 9 months

Note

Sorry I drank a bit more than I wanted/should have and this message is going through a translator so if it's incomprehensible ignore me.

But the last few days have been a lot for me, that's why I can only now bother you with my questions, I said it before I want to bother you now and then with my questions but I'm sorry it took so long (the simple farmer here btw)

Do you remember Mage Horangi and the monster König that was very nonverbal.

If you're interested how about cocky horangie who roams around the common living area without any underwear and König who tries his best to keep it together but in the end doesn't.

🙂❤

Hopefully this is the one you meant! Nice to see you again farmer!! And you're never bothering me friend!! Part 1 even though it can be read as a stand alone

(I'm sorry if this isn't it, it's just the only post I could think about that matched your description)

König watched Horangi like a hawk. He watched the way he moved around the area, hips swaying.

The only thing he had on was a short robe. It went to his upper thighs and that was it. He also left it open, chest and thick fucking thighs right there for the taking.

König wanted to be good. He was a guest in this home. A pet or decoration. Right now, he had clothes on. Fancy ones. Horangi was trying to civilize him apparently.

It wouldn't work. Especially when he acted like this. Whatever cruel and unusual punishment this was for, he'd stay strong.

Horangi was a good actor. He bent over the desk and the robe pulled up to show his beautiful ass. Gorgeous and soft. Perfectly shaped to fit in König's hands.

He shouldn't. Horangi would scold him.

His voice droned on and on. Usually, König would be enraptured, hanging on every word, but all he could think about was fucking into him. Not letting up when Horangi whimpered or told him he was too sensitive. Working him over until König felt satisfied with himself.

Horangi smirked up at him. "Pervert."

König didn't like that word. Horangi called him that a lot. His fingers twitched.

"If you ask, maybe I'll say yes."

König bit his tongue.

"Shame."

Horangi pulled away. He went to do other things. Flaunting his body.

König plotted. Something he rarely did anymore. Most of the time he could relax in Horangi's home and enjoy himself. But that didn't make him any less sneaky.

So he kept the oil he'd need on him. Just in case.

Horangi continued. He laid on the couch that König liked sitting on with his robe open. The book in his hand must've distracted him enough for him to not notice König approaching. And that König had once again ditched the fancy clothes he had been shoved in.

His soft underbelly sat on display. Beautiful. Perfect to bite.

So König did. He ignored the panic from Horangi in exchange for put his legs over his shoulders and biting more at his soft belly. Horangi started to hit him and thrash but he kept him steady. His tongue flicked out to lick over the scars and now freshly bruising skin.

"You perv!! Don't to-"

König licked up his cock and Horangi quickly moaned instead. He huffed for a moment longer before motioning for König to just continue.

Happily, he kept licking. Slowly taking maybe an inch into his mouth before pulling back when Horangi tried to buck up further. He bent him in half, ankles by his head, with one of his hands and glared down at him, hood only making him more menacing.

Horangi flushed all the way down as he looked up at him, clearly not expecting that.

König pulled the oil out and poured it over his hole, watching it drip down his stomach and then down his back. Carefully, knowing that Horangi needed to be warmed up, he started to push in one of his fingers, watching him take it. He started to squirm but König gave him a glare that made him settle down.

With all of the oil, the slide was easy. Horangi groaned as König worked him open, getting his finger in further and further.

"Tight."

"Just wanted you to ask for it! To talk!" Horangi hissed before breaking out into a whimper as König slid a second finger into him. He felt so warm and tight. Perfect for the taking. His hole clenched around him as he forced himself in deeper and deeper. He pressed his prostate and watched Horangi writhe.

Once he felt he had done his due diligence, he pulled his fingers out and put his hands on his ankles, keeping him pinned in this position. He rubbed his cock against his body, not quite pushing in, but enjoying the warm slick slide of it.

Horangi tried to angle himself, to do anything to get the upper hand so he could be fucked how he wanted. König simply smacked his thigh and kept rutting, enjoying himself. He purred and then finally pushed into Horangi. The tight walls and heat made him groan as he tried desperately to fit the rest in.

"König." Horangi whimpered just a little and clenched around him.

It was harsh. Fast. König claimed him. Wanted to own him inside and outside. He thrust in harder and harder into him. Finally, finally, he got all the way inside him. Spearing him open.

Horangi wailed as he finally slid home and pressed right against his prostate. He bit his lip, eyes unfocusing.

König licked at his mouth until Horangi let him get entry, moaning as his tongue pushed into him. They moved in tangent now instead of König controlling him. He tried to thrust back into each one, desperate to let him further in. To be claimed.

The robe ended up on the floor where it belong as König lazily kept thrusting, hand tangled deep in his hair to keep him still. He enjoyed the tight and wonderful feeling. Enjoyed the connection between their bodies.

Little kisses pressed against each other's hot skin. Warmth. Pleasure and harsh taking in equal measures.

Horangi held on to König's. His nails digging deep into his skin. He started to pant and whine, clearly getting closer and closer. Lost in the feeling.

König loved the power he held over him. The way he could string him along. He didn't tease, even though Horangi deserved it. He didn't have the patience either. Wanting to come there and then. Now. Now. Now.

König stroked Horangi slowly and he spilled immediately, covering his chest. He came inside him, feeling it drip out around his cock.

"Gorgeous."

Horangi huffed and looked up at him. "You too, big guy."

#Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare II #Konig #König #Horangi #Körangi #König x Horangi #Horangi x König #modern warfare ii #könig modern warfare #könig call of duty #könig cod

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 10 months

Text

In the Shadow of a Suitor’s Gift

Summary: MC has received something in the mail, and it’s got Sebastian acting strangely. (Sebastian Sallow x f!MC (no house specified))

Rating: G

Word count: 600

Warnings: None

A/N: I was equal parts inspired by this post and getting a new perfume today. So I gift to you a jealous Sebastian Sallow.

—

MC turned the box over in her hands. Of all the things she might have expected in her morning mail, a bottle of perfume wasn’t one of them.

“Where did you get that?” Natty asked.

“My mother sent it,” said MC.

Poppy picked up the note that MC had set to the side and read it aloud. “This is a gift from your Mr. Royce. I thought I should send it along.”

“Royce?” Sebastian asked. “Isn’t that the muggle you said was trying to court you over the summer?”

Pink crept into MC’s cheeks. That was some private information she didn’t really want the whole Great Hall knowing. “Er, well, yes.”

“Oh.” The single word out of Sebastian’s mouth was clipped, and he fell unusually quiet for the rest of the morning. He had hoped that would be the end of it.

It wasn’t Ominis’s fault that he mentioned it. He hadn’t even been in the Great Hall when MC’s package had arrived. His best friend simply had the worst timing when he walked into the Undercroft and asked, “Has MC been in here? I smell Jasmine.”

“Jasmine?” Sebastian asked, his voice dripping with irritation.

Ominis matched his irritated tone. “Yes, it’s her perfume. Jasmine and orange. Hadn’t you noticed?”

Sebastian had not noticed. He had caught the scent of dittany on her fingertips when she touched his cheek. Delighted in the dewy aroma of sweat clinging to her hair after a duel. Tasted the sweetness on her lips after a trip to Hogsmeade. But perfume? Jasmine and orange? These were not things Sebastian related to MC.

And now that everyone was talking about perfume, it was all he noticed. Sitting next to her in the library, he couldn’t concentrate. Instead of history of magic, all he could think about was the floral and citrus scent coming from his left. How the delicate, bright scent reminded him of everything he loved about MC. Reminded him that he did not deserve her.

One day she would realize she could do better, and the Mr. Royces of the world would be waiting.

Sebastian snapped his book shut and stood, walking briskly out of the library without word. “Sebastian?” MC hissed after him, but still he didn’t stop.

She caught up with him as he reached the door to the greenhouses, planting herself in front of him. “What’s wrong?” She demanded.

“That perfume of yours is a bit strong. Just needed some air.”

“I hardly think so, Sebastian. What’s gotten into you these past few days?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I just don’t know why everyone is making a big deal about your new perfume, that’s all.”

“Sebastian, are you bothered that another man has given me a gift?”

“What bothers is me is how much I like it on you. But whenever I smell it I’ll just think of the muggle who tried to steal you from me.”

There was a pause, and then MC laughed. Sensing Sebastian tense, she tried to stifle herself by covering her mouth with her hand.

Sebastian folded his arms. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s not the same perfume, Sebastian.”

The indignation on Sebastian’s face was replaced with confusion. “What?”

“I’m not wearing the perfume Mr. Royce gave me. I’ve never worn it. I gave it away, actually.”

Sebastian found himself unable to meet the amusement in MC’s gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know I needed to.”

Sebastian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry I snapped. I was just-“

“Jealous?”

“No,” Sebastian quickly. Then he said. “Maybe a little.”

MC smiled at him, taking his hand in hers. “At least I know you care.”

“Hang on, if that’s not the the perfume Royce gave you, were did you get this one?”

MC just rolled her eyes and pulled him back toward the library.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow x mc

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fili-urzudel · 11 months

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Dating Bofur Headcanons

This may be a bit unusual, but I'm inaugurating my blog with a Bofur post because he does not get anywhere near the love and appreciation he deserves. Also, I have a lot of headcanons for a lot of characters. I'm not running out for a while.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, inebriation

Word Count: 0.7k

- You first meet when the party has stopped in a town along the way near the beginning of their journey

- They're in the pub, making the worst sort of ruckus but at least their food and ale will make a pretty piece of coin for the barkeep

- He's... a little intoxicated when you get to know each other

- But that's really just because he's been (very obviously) staring at you since you walked in

- You think it's a bit strange that a dwarf is showing such obvious interest in you, but you'll go with it

- Unlike many other men who have shown interest, he keeps a respectful distance, no touching

- He's just attempting to flirt with you and flushing when you flirt back

- "You're quite funny," you giggle, oblivious to the way his companions stare at the interaction with confused awe. "Emil, some more pints for me and my friend here," you call to the bartender, settling a hand on his shoulder.

- You hardly even noticed that you brushed past the end of his braid

- When you look back at him, he seems to have temporarily frozen

- "You alright?"

- He gives you a tight grin and nods before laughing nervously. "Aye, just... may have had too many pints already," he excuses.

- "Ah, is there any such thing?" You joke.

- He chills out again pretty quickly (you know, with the central nervous system depression and all)

- As Thorin is rounding them all up to go find someplace to sleep, he decides he wants to leave you something to remember him by

- He pulls a mostly-finished whittled doll from some pocket in his coat, you weren't watching close enough to see exactly where it came from

- "Here," he says, nearly slurring, pressing the doll into your palm. "It's a gift for you."

- You raise your eyebrows with a smile, studying the doll from every angle. he was quite talented, actually

- "Thank you, Bofur," you say, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek

- Mans goes RED

- You think he stutters out a good evening before he's dragged off by Bombur and Bifur

- He tags along with Bilbo on his way back to the Shire

- When Gloin asks why, he has one simple answer

- "Well, my friend, I believe I made a long-term deposit of my own," Bofur replies, briefly removing his hat to smooth his hair.

- He knows, he knows it's a long shot

- You're a human and you might not even remember him

- But there's something about that night, the way you kissed his cheek, that he just can't shake

- And he wants to get as far away from the place where his king died as he can

- He just so happens to see you entering your house as he comes into town, your hair conveniently worn in just the same style as when you first met

- He wanders around for a few hours, not wanting to bother you when you've only just returned home or seem too eager

- When you open your door for whomever is knocking, you have to look down to realize that someone is actually there.

- "Good day, las--my lady," the strange dwarf says, hat pressed to his chest.

- "Good... day?" You greet. "I'm sorry, have I met you?"

- His face falls for a moment before he seems to have an idea

- He secures his hat back on his head, smiling up at you hopefully

- "Bofur!" You cry, surprised and delighted.

- "At your service, my lady," he bows briefly

- "Whatever are you doing here?"

- "I still have your figurine," you proclaim proudly, showing him in. "I hope you don't mind too terribly, but I made her some clothes..."

- You get to talking and, well, your town has always needed a toymaker

- So he sets up shop right next to your business; you're close enough to some mountains, at least

- You two become sort of local legend, in the "they're the strangest bunch we've had around for a long while" kind of way

- Not that either of you mind

- You love your eventual husband that's quite a bit shorter than you

#lotr #lotr fanfic #bofur the dwarf #Bofur #bofur x reader #the hobbit bofur #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit fanfic #Bofur x OC #Bofur x Reader #headcanons #bofur headcanons #lotr headcanons #the hobbit headcanons #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x y/n #mae writes

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j0hnj4ej3n · 10 months

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i crave for some nct dream's angsty imagines🥺 can you do it if you are free? thank you in advance!

nct dream falling out of love with you

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: angst angst angst, some of them really are red flags and assholes but this is just a work of fiction we all know our 7dream boys are a bunch of sweeties, curse words, mentions of drinking

Notes: anon asked for an angsty post and i am here to deliver one! and honestly i think the writing style is a little different? it's a bit more stream of consciousness vibes but yes, i am also an angst lover so this was quite fun to write :”) i am so sorry that this took a while, i’ve been really busy but i am back to posting more regularly now~ so continue to send in more request if you have any! until my next post, be well and take care my loveys <3

𔘓 Mark:

mark has been so busy but at the same time, he loves his job. these days, he much rather spend time working than anything. or maybe these are all excuses for himself to justify why he hasn't been making time for you. it's getting easier and easier to forget the plans you've made or the things you've said. seeing you at the end of every day used to be something he looks forward to, he remembers how he always gets so excited. when he finally sees you, when he gets to just soak you in at the end of his busy day. it relaxes him, he'd look into your eyes, tell you he loves you and everything just feels right. but now, even when he gets to go to sleep next to you, it just isn't the same anymore. you still look at him with so much love in your eyes, but it's been harder and harder to return your 'i love you's while meaning it. he doesn't know what went wrong or if anything went wrong in the first place. did the two of you move too fast? was it because you had thoughts of settling down and mark didn't have the heart to tell you he wasn't ready? is the pressure of marriage getting to him? or is it the fact that he never really wanted to get married at all? it kills him to admit it, knowing how much you love him still. but it's been a while since he noticed that his love for you has faded. and he wonders if it'll be kinder if he just lets you go.

𔘓 Renjun:

renjun has always been a fighter. you mean it in the best way, it's not unusual for you two to get into fights. everytime you do argue, it almost makes you love him more. he has always fought for your love, and you do the same. that's why he loved you so much. you two would never let each other go to bed upset. despite being quick to anger, he always reminds you that the two of you are on the same side. "i'm not trying to fight with you. it's us against the problem, not me against you." so really, you don't know when it started. the longer you've been together, the harder it's been to solve your problems. "why are we even fighting about this again?" "cause you just can't seem to let that shit go" "me? you're the one who-" "let's just stop, i'm not going to argue with you again" renjun is growing tired, it's easier for him to just walk out sometimes. you've gone to sleep angry and crying. "where the hell are you going at this hour?" "can't sleep, going out for some fresh air. don't bother waiting up." and some nights renjun never comes back at all. he usually goes to drink his thoughts of breaking up away, he doesn't want to be the one to say it. but he no longer wants to fight, maybe it's better this way. to stay with you till the end, until you say you're tired too and you can both part ways.

𔘓 Jeno:

is love supposed to be like this? it never used to feel like this. jeno has a lot on his mind. with you, he used to always feel like his floating. on cloud nine. really, you used to be the person who could put him in a good mood just by looking at him. so what changed? when did this love you shared start to feel burdensome? when did it all get so heavy? jeno isn't usually phased by burden, he has carried loads throughout his life. but for some reason, this load is one that he doesn't want to bare. love isn't supposed to be unpleasant like that. has he fallen out of love with you? is that why it's so difficult to leave his friends to meet you these days? it never used to be a problem, he'd always run to you in a heartbeat. he caught himself sighing when his phone lit up and it was a call from you. a frown found it's place on his face because he had to pause his game to pick up your call. and you didn't even have anything important to say. "i miss you jen" "mm, me too" he hated how easy it was to lie to you like that, he promised to always be honest. maybe it's true, his friends always used to tell him that your first relationship never lasts long. and perhaps it's time for him to be cruel to be kind, he'll break your heart sooner than later. he believes you'll come to thank him some day.

𔘓 Haechan:

"you really don't see why i'm upset?" "no, no i really don't," haechan tells you, annoyance laced in his voice. "it makes me uncomfortable, i don't like the idea of you going to lunch with her so often" "it's just lunch? i need to eat, don't i?" "so why don't you ask me then? it's not like i was busy?" "babe, i was already with her! we just went to get lunch after class, what's the big deal?" "it's not about just... lunch," you tell him, trying to stay calm even though your eyes are already stinging. "then what is it? all i'm hearing is that you're jealous. can't you trust me when i say we're just friends?" "yes. so what if i am jealous? you've always known that i'm insecure and that i don't like the idea of you hanging out with girls one on one. and you promised me you wouldn't, we made a deal, and you broke your promise..." "oh my god...." "h-how do you expect me to trust you when you keep going back on your word?" haechan takes a deep breath, he's so sick of having the same god damn conversation with you. he runs his hands up and down his face, before running them through his hair. "okay, fine. i'm sorry... i'm really sorry, you're right. i fucked up again... i'm the bad guy." haechan stares at you as you shake your head, beginning to break into sobs. it's like the two of you are stuck in an endless loop, never escaping this miserable cycle. and his heart used to break seeing you cry like that, knowing that he was the cause. but now his hooded eyes are tired and empty. so he stands up and walks to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of wine, before he comes back out to join you on the couch and turns on the TV.

𔘓 Jaemin:

you and jaemin both knew long distance wasn’t going to be easy. that much was clear the week leading up to jaemin’s departure, the two of you spend every waking hour together. sometimes even breaking into tears over the fact that you two would be miles and miles away from each other. but they always say distance makes the heart fonder right? so you and jaemin, you two were going to be fine right? it’s been 4 months since the two of you started long distance and jaemin is literally on his wits end. everything was going well initially but now he just thinks you’re asking for too much. he is literally on the other side of the world, trying to begin a new, exciting chapter of his life. and of course he misses you too but that doesn’t mean he has to sacrifice his sleep every night, choose staying at home to pick up your call instead of hanging out with new friends and going on new adventures. he’s trying so hard to just begin chasing his dreams and it’s like you’re doing everything in your power to hold him back. he knows in his heart that you’re not doing this on purpose but he can’t help but grow annoyed at you. he’s growing comfortable to this new life, without you. and he begins to wonder if you’re just another chapter in his life, one that doesn’t last till the end.

𔘓 Chenle:

chenle thinks he made a mistake. yes, he really did find you attractive. and yes, he really really did like you, very much. but maybe he was never really ready for a relationship. it was, to him, just too much commitment for right now. it definitely helps him feel less lonely but it was more of an inconvenience than anything. it wasn’t like he wanted to have other casual relationships or anything, mainly, he just wanted to be free. free to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and not having to be accountable to someone all the time. but it was nice to have someone care for him like you do. he doesn’t think he has anyone around that loves him like that, he can tell you love him and it makes his heart ache a little. because he came to realise that he mistook his infatuation for you for love. but it was too late to retract any of these things without breaking your heart. chenle is conflicted, he thinks he could choose to love you if he wanted to. love isn’t just mere feelings after all. but he doesn’t really want to, chenle doesn’t really want to be in a relationship anymore. you’re a beautiful girl, both inside and out, who deserves a lot more than he could offer you right now. and he knows you know it too. you might be naive, but you weren’t an idiot. you could tell that something in your relationship shifted, though you weren’t sure what exactly did. and maybe one day, when chenle gets the courage to finally settle down, maybe then he could be someone deserving of the love you have so readily given to him.

𔘓 Jisung:

when the two of you just met, jisung thought you were the most interesting person he has ever met. you were so different from him, from your passions to your personalities. and personally, jisung saw that as a great thing. afterall, opposites attract, right? yes, the two of you were indeed really attracted to each other and eventually fell in love enough to get into a relationship. but that only began to test each of your patience towards each other. a relationship is hard work and it proves to be even harder when both partners simply fail to see eye to eye. “but ji, you’re not listening to me,” you kept telling him. “baby, i am… but i just don’t agree with you”. it’s really draining, when the two of you are so persistent and stubborn in your own opinions. after a while, jisung just doesn’t feel very happy being together anymore. things seemed to be better when you two were just friends, maybe things should have stayed that way. it saddens him to even think like this, because he still likes you so much. but he sees how destructive this could eventually become. you’re already beginning to say hurtful things to each other just to try to get the other person to understand. you’re both unhappy and the feelings have definitely begun to fade. would it be better to just call it quits? jisung doesn’t know what to do but he wants to do something before it’s too late and it comes to a point where even being friends becomes impossible too.

#nct dream #nct dream scenarios #nct dream reactions #nct angst #j0hnj4ej3n

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dustofthedailylife · 2 years

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Happy Birthday, My Love

→ Masterlist

Summary: It's your birthday and Ayato had an idea how he could surprise you

Pairing: Ayato x Reader (gn!)

Warnings: None; Just domestic fluff, comfort and crack at the end

A/N: This is a repost because the post I scheduled on the day of my birthday the 7th did not show up in the tags at all... yay? Anyway - Happy birthday to... me - Haha, yup, I basically wrote this for myself as a comfort piece and to get back into writing after my exams... and as a purely self-indulgent comfort fic (and I'm not sorry). Hope you enjoy this as well :3

When you woke up the first rays of sunshine peeked through the closed curtains of your shared bedroom. A look to the right revealed that the other side of the bed was empty - which was nothing unusual, you assumed your husband had already started working again and was hunched over his desk in the study, working through the endless piles of paperwork.

You sat up and stretched out your limbs, wiping the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand before you got up. You opened the curtains to let the warm light seep into your pores and basked in the cozy comfort of the sun of the early fall morning. You could see mist rising up from the forest near the Kamisato Estate and the air smelled like fallen leaves and morning dew.

It seemingly was a perfect and comfortable fall morning but the absence of your husband today specifically bothered you more than you liked to admit and the reason for that was quite simple - today was your birthday and admittedly, you were just a little disappointed he didn’t even take today off to spend it together with you. Did he seriously forget?

You sighed deeply as you attempted to shrug it off. It was just another day, right? It wasn’t that important and you had him around every single day of your life after all.

You kept searching around the estate, in the courtyard and in his room, yet Thoma was nowhere to be found. Just as you walked towards the study of your husband assuming Thoma would happen to be in Ayato’s study as well and assisting him with his extensive paperwork, you ran into Akari, one of the maids of the estate.

You walked out of your bedroom to see if you could find Thoma, maybe he’d have time to go grab breakfast together with you in Inazuma City. You could technically also go and ask Ayato but you did not wish to disturb him. You knew how busy he was due to the immense workload that was constantly weighing him down.

“Oh! Good morning, Akari!”, you greeted. “You wouldn’t coincidentally know where Thoma is at?”

“Good morning, Mx. Kamisato! I’ve seen him head to the kitchen earlier, I think.”

Of course, how come you didn’t think to check there yet, the kitchen was almost Thoma’s second room after all.

“Thank you!”, you slightly bowed your head down before turning around on your heels and heading for the kitchen.

“Oh excuse me, Mx. Kamisato!”, Akari called out for you, making you halt in your tracks and look back over your shoulder. “Happy Birthday!”

“Oh, thank you!”, you smiled while simultaneously feeling a slight lump form in your throat because it made you realize that even the staff remembered your birthday but not your husband. You were just slightly disappointed but it wasn’t that important. Right?

The closer you got to the kitchen, the more the air smelled like flour, warm and aromatic. Someone was definitely baking something and your mouth started watering at the mere thought of some pancakes or your favorite cake for your birthday breakfast.

“Thoma!”, you cheered as you slipped into the kitchen. “Would you like t–”

You halted in your tracks at the sight that greeted you instead. Not Thoma but Ayato was standing behind the counter. Speckles of flour were sticking to his forehead and cheek, he was wearing his kimono loosely, which also didn’t manage get out of his baking attempt unscathed, his hair was still messy from sleeping and the entire kitchen was thrown into complete disarray. Several bowls were standing in the sink, flour was covering the entire countertop and all sorts of opened packages were standing around loosely.

Ayato was just coating a delicious looking cake with chocolate and sprinkling some sakura shaped sugar pearls on top of it.

You were so stunned by the scene in front of your eyes that you had forgotten what you came here for in the first place and were too baffled to speak. You looked up to Ayato, scanning his face and looking deep into his loving lavender eyes and holding back a chuckle as you reached for his cheek, wiping away some stray speckles of molten chocolate. How did he even manage to completely smear all sorts of ingredients of the cake in his face, on his kimono and all over the kitchen?

“My love! You’re already awake?”, he asked in surprise as he turned around toward the door where you stood, before wiping his hands on his kimono. That certainly explained how all the stains on it came to be.

He headed over to you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Ayato looked over to the clock on the wall before smiling lightly. “Seems like I’ve already been up for longer than I had thought”

“What are you doing here?”, you asked amusedly.

“Baking a birthday cake for you, of course.”

“You made this for me? All on your own?”, you remarked as you could feel some tears of joy form in the corners of your eyes. You already thought he had forgotten about your birthday, yet he had gotten up so early to bake a cake to surprise you with.

“Well… in all honesty. Thoma gave me the recipe, but I insisted on baking alone and I think… it turned out quite excellent, if I do say so myself.”, he smiled proudly, taking you by your hand and leading you over to where the cake stood on the counter. He pulled out the stool in front of it for you and motioned you to sit down, while he cut a piece of the cake and stuck some candles into it which he then lit.

“Happy Birthday, love. Make a wish!”, he held the cake out in front of you with a proud shine in his eyes. Everything was so perfectly ridiculous at that moment that some happy tears glistened in the corners of your eyes as you blew out the candles and wished to spend many more moments just like this one together with him. You thought it wasn’t possible to love this man even more than you already did but he had proven you wrong once again.

“I had already assumed you had forgotten about my birthday when I saw you had gotten up already.”, you admitted.

“Nonsense! How could I ever forget about you!”, he replied, playfully acting offended at your accusation and handing you a fork. “Dig in!”

You grabbed the fork and put a big piece of the cake in your mouth. At that moment the first anticipation dissipated into thin air. When the spongy cake came in contact with your tastebuds you expected light sweetness but instead all you could taste was salt.

You involuntarily scrunched your face up while Ayato’s facial expression completely derailed into a mix between shock and concern, which made you chuckle in amusement.

“Is anything wrong?”, he asked with evident worry in his voice.

You held out the plate for him as he took a bite of the cake himself, mirroring the exact same scrunched up expression you've just had as well when you had tried it.

“Honey, I think you might have mixed up some ingredients. Did you happen to try the batter before you put it in the oven?”

“No I-...", he huffed, scratching the back of his head displeased. "Well, that most certainly was not sugar.”

“Nope'', you chuckled.

“I’m so sorry, love, I-”

“Shh! Be quiet!”, you put your finger on his lips, effectively shutting him up before pulling him closer and replacing your finger with your lips, softly sharing the taste of salt that now lingered on both of your lips. “I love you!”, you whispered as you smiled against his lips, feeling the butterflies flutter about in your stomach just like they did on the very first day you met him.

“I love you, too. More than you know.”, he whispered in response, smiling at you lovingly while brushing softly over your cheek with his thumb and resting his forehead against yours. Both of you basking in each other’s comforting presence.

“So uhm… what are we going to do about the cake?”, you inquired after a short moment of silence. Ayato scratched the back of his neck awkwardly while eyeing the cake with a slight frown.

“I guess, I’ll just give it to Thoma.”

“Oh, archons…”, you laughed out loud. “You should really give him a raise if he actually eats this.”

“Yeah… maybe I should.”

Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #ayato x reader #genshin x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines #genshin x you #ayato x you #ayato x y/n #genshin x female reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x y/n #genshin scenarios #kamisato ayato #🍁 dust writes

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allmoshnobrain · 6 months

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 20 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2235 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly. I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

✦ summary: After coming back to Los Angeles, Nore has to deal with Dave's reaction when he gets to know about Metallica's new album.

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angry sex, (light) spanking, jealousy, angst

✦ a/n: I'm back! First of all, I would just like to say I'm really sorry it took me this long to post a new part. My life's been crazy busy and I was a bit burned out from writing, so I just had to take a break for a bit. But I took a few weeks to rest and now I'm ready to keep writing the story :) I hope you guys like this new chapter! The dynamics in Dave and Nore's relationship are starting to get a little more complicated, and we'll see how this plays out soon. Feedback is welcome! ❤

I rolled back into Los Angeles the next morning. Having a motorcycle as a birthday gift from my parents sure had its perks, like getting around town without suffering the rickety old buses. The ride from San Francisco to LA was a trek, and it got me thinking about those not-so-distant days when Cliff would cruise from San Francisco to Long Beach just to hang out with me.

Man, I was already starting to miss him.

Los Angeles was its usual chaotic self, just like I'd left it the day before. But coming back after my San Francisco escapade was a whole different deal. I couldn't help but wonder if the concert and everything that went down afterward had stirred up a whole lot more in me than I was ready to admit.

Dave wasn’t in when I got to our apartment, so I dropped my bag and the presents on the couch and hit the shower to unwind after that exhausting trip. As I was getting dressed, I heard the familiar jingle of keys at the door, letting me know he had just arrived home .

It was kind of unusual for him not to swing by and say hi right away, but it didn't take me long to figure out why. After I got dressed, I headed into the living room and there he was, looking at the new addition to my vinyl collection with a frown.

"Dave...?" I said, nervously. I wasn't entirely sure how he'd react to the sight of the new Metallica record. I probably should've thought about it before leaving it lying on the couch, but I was so beat from the trip that it didn't even cross my mind that he might not be thrilled with my gift.

He looked up at me, and I could tell he was torn between anguish and something tougher that made me swallow hard.

"I had no clue they dropped the album," he commented, expressionless. Somehow, his effort to act like it wasn't a big deal just seemed to make it worse, the tension in the room growing like a bubble about to burst.

"It was a gift," I mumbled softly. He snorted, arching an eyebrow, and I felt my face turn beet red. My voice wavered, "I didn't know they had released it either; they told me just recently. It's just that..."

"Did you know they used my music in this crap?" he growled. I blinked in surprise.

"What?"

"Jump in the Fire? Metal Militia? Phantom Lord?" he snapped, shaking the vinyl's booklet in my direction, seeming on the verge of blowing a gasket. "I helped write all this shit. And they didn’t even credit me! I told them not to use my stuff. I fucking told them!"

I opened my mouth in surprise, my heart clenching with anguish and anger. That was just wrong. Dave had confided in me how he'd asked the guys not to use any of his songs or solos. I didn't know what was worse, them ignoring his wishes or not even bothering to inform us.

"Dave, I... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought this," I murmured, stepping closer and placing a hand on his arm. He looked at me, his gaze softening ever so slightly.

"It's alright," he muttered, though his voice still carried a trace of annoyance. He wrapped his arms around my waist, nuzzling into the curve of my neck and giving me a tight hug. "It's okay. It's not your fault if they used you to get to me."

I furrowed my brow, my body tensing at his words. I pulled away slightly, locking eyes with him.

"Dave... I don't think that's what happened."

He arched an eyebrow at my words, and I pulled back slightly when I detected a flash of hurt in his eyes, though it quickly turned into a cold, almost icy expression. It was evident that he was hurt, but it wasn't just that; having his songs used without his permission had pushed him over the edge. He was seething with anger.

"You're being too naive," he said in a low, chilling voice I hadn't heard from him before. I swallowed hard, feeling my heart race uncomfortably in my chest.

"Dave, it's Cliff. He wouldn't do that..."

"They used my fucking songs!" he snarled, his voice growing louder. I took a step back, and he exhaled deeply, now visibly angry. "You're fooling yourself. Do you think they're nice guys? They didn't care about me, so why would they care about you now?"

"It's not like that..."

"Of course, it's like that," he laughed, a bitter and painful laugh that made me flinch. "You don't realize, do you? They don't think I'm good enough, but you are! I bet Cliff would be thrilled if we broke up now. Have you ever thought about that?"

“But I don’t want to break up with you,” I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. This was going much, much worse than I had expected. Of course, I knew Dave's reaction to seeing the album wouldn't be great, but somehow, I always ended up trying to convince myself that he would handle it more calmly.

I should have known that Dave Mustaine's anger and resentment would be anything but calm.

"This isn't about what you want, it's about what you do! Why did you have to bring this here?" he shouted. His voice held more distress than anger, and it pained me. Beyond the pain of our argument, I couldn't bear to see him like this and know it was my fault. I could have avoided all of this if I hadn't been blinded by my own happiness in seeing my friends again, in seeing a glimpse of the happiness we used to have together. "Why do you have to keep hanging out with them? Don't I matter to you? Don't you care about me?"

"You're getting it all wrong," my voice quivered as I fought back my tears. "You can't say these things, Dave, you're hurting me!"

"Well, what about me? Can't you see you're hurting me too?"

"I thought I told you not to make me choose."

"I'm not making you choose! "

"Yes, you are! I asked you to trust me..."

"I do trust you, damn it! I love you!"

"Then act like you love me!" I shouted. I gasped in shock as he swiftly closed the distance between us, pulling me close to his body furiously, and kissed me, his tongue invading my mouth with a fervor I'd never felt before. I moaned into his kiss, my legs going weak as I clung to his arms. His embrace tightened around my waist, his other hand gripping the base of my neck just enough to leave me breathless.

"If you want me to prove that I love you, then I'm gonna prove it now," he growled, anger smoldering in his eyes like poison. I pulled him into another kiss, my body burning like wildfire as he undressed me and we stumbled towards the bedroom.

"Is this what you wanted all along?" I mumbled, my lingering frustration from our argument making me bolder as I hastily removed his shirt, his lips seeking mine in a desperate hunger.

"Don't test me, Burton," he snarled. I let out a surprised gasp as he spun me around, firmly placing me on my knees at the edge of the bed. One of his arms held my waist, pressing my back against his chest, while the other hand gripped the nape of my neck, his lips and tongue aggressively exploring my soft skin.

“D… Dave…” I closed my eyes, a muffled moan escaping my lips as his hand on my waist moved down to the wetness between my legs, his fingers penetrating me without warning and curling inside me. He rumbled against my skin, holding me closer to him, his lips gliding up my neck until they reached my ear.

"Do you want me to stop?" he whispered, a hint of concern evident in his voice despite his tension. I shook my head “no”, pressing myself against him, and he chuckled softly before pulling my waist tightly against his own, pushing my shoulder until I was on all fours on the bed. I moaned softly as he caressed my ass slowly before giving me a slap that made my skin crawl all over, pain and pleasure mixed together as tears gathered in my eyes. He grunted quietly, seeming pleased with my reaction. “Do you like that? Answer me. ”

“Y… Yeah… Ah! ” I flinched when he slapped me again, and he laughed. I felt my heart speed up when I heard him take off his pants and felt him climb onto the bed, his hands slowly caressing my waist.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his fingers penetrating me again and moving inside me. I moaned softly, my skin still tingling with the pain of his spanking, contrasting with the increasing pleasure that the movement of his fingers made me feel.

I moaned as he pressed his cock against me, my clenched fists gripping the bed sheet tightly as he entered me slowly. Dave let out a low moan, holding my waist tightly as he began to move. I closed my eyes, reduced to a mess of muffled moans as I felt him move, pushing deeper and deeper, making my whole body shake with pleasure. Right then, I knew he was taking out all his frustration and anger on me — and I loved every second of it.

"You're mine," he rumbled, his voice low. He drew me in closer, guiding me up again as he pressed my back against his chest, still holding my waist with one hand as he thrust faster and faster inside me, his lips eagerly seeking mine. I moaned into his kiss when his tongue invaded my mouth, taking one of my hands to my clit, massaging it in circles while burying my other hand in his hair. He brought his other hand up to my face, pulling away slightly and tracing the outline of my lip with his thumb as he looked into my eyes, his lips parted and his eyes out of focus as he lost himself in pleasure. “You’re mine,” he murmured, feverishly, his hips moving faster and faster, hitting all the sweetest spots inside me. I shuddered, moaning loudly as I felt my body contract, our peaks approaching together. “You’re mine, Nore. Mine.”

“Ah… D-Dave!” I closed my eyes, letting him press me against his body as my orgasm swept through me in a shock wave that made me contract all over. He groaned, burying his face in the crook of my neck as he came with me, his movements becoming sloppy as his seed filled me.

I sighed, shakily, as he pulled out of me. I laid face down on the bed, letting out a groan into the pillow. He gently pushed my hair aside, planting a soft kiss on my shoulder before settling down beside me.

"Is everything alright?" he inquired in a hushed tone while his fingers gently traced my cheek. I opened my eyes and gazed into his concerned expression, mustering a faint smile.

"Everything's fine," I mumbled, reaching my hand up to his face. He furrowed his brows, suddenly recoiling as he seized my wrist.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice tensing, his eyes locking onto my knuckles. I blinked in surprise. In the heat of the moment, I had forgotten momentarily that my hand was still a little swollen, the skin turning a soft shade of purple as the bruises from the previous day's punch began to appear.

"It wasn't a big deal, Dave," I said, and he gave me an incredulous look. I blinked, feeling my face flush. "Just some jerk who tried to hassle me after the gig yesterday. So, I gave him a punch."

"You did what?" he asked, sounding genuinely shocked. I chuckled softly, but Dave frowned, concerned, as if he didn't quite buy my reaction. "Nore, this is serious! Did he do something to you?"

"Dave, it's alright... Cliff helped me." I stretched the truth a bit. I didn't want to bring up James' help, not after Dave and I had our spat about the album. Especially not after recalling last night in the kitchen and the way James had held my hand, his eyes locking onto mine for just a fleeting moment before Leanne and Cliff interrupted us.

“You go out solo once, and this is what happens?” Dave grumbled, and I chuckled as I cradled his face in my hands. He sighed before drawing me nearer, planting a slow kiss on my lips. I sighed happily, feeling myself melt into the warmth of his kiss as I nestled in his embrace. He pulled back, gently gripping my chin. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have been so mean to you.”

"It's okay, Dave," I murmured, softly. "But you've got to trust me. I'm with you because I love you."

"I know. I'm sorry," he replied, his voice gentle, burying his face in my chest and pulling me into a tight hug. "You're mine," he whispered, his arms embracing me as if he needed to reassure himself that what he said was true. "Everything's alright. You're mine."

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princekoo · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk x reader

Genre: smut

Trope: city girl x farm boy

Warnings: bondage, name calling, bad writing

Word count: ~4.4k

A/N: yeah I have no words this came to me randomly while I was listening to country (something I never do) so here’s my first smut piece lol I haven’t written anything in MONTHS, so here is my baby I wrote in like 2 hours (also something I’ve never done before)💀 this is badly written bc it’s 2:30am and I cannot be bothered to proofread sorry

What does a woman running late for her job with less than a quarter gallon of gas and a horse have in common? Well, eventually they both run out of gas. Or was that just you? Probably. Here you were on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere trying to contact your job, your friends, anyone really. So much for a support system since your cries for help went unanswered before you completely lost battery. Yeah, you forgot to charge your phone after a night out with your friends, go figure.

You let out a resigned sigh as you sit in your car with the door open as the beautifully unpleasant waft of cow dung and freshly cut grass assaulted your senses. Fully giving up, you reach for the coffee you made 2 hours ago, grimacing at the relevation that it was now more like a nice cold coffee. Looking at the scenery, you tried to make yourself feel better. Hey, at least the cows are cute right? They’re staring at you with their beady little eyes, nothing behind them as they chewed away at some of the grass you strongly smelled. Just then, a cow came up close and you almost considered touching it like you would your cat Oreo, the sweet little thing. You refrained, of course, as you hadn’t hit a complete mental rock bottom at that point yet.

Just then, the cow took a huge dump right then to you, the smell from before intensifying due to obvious reasons.

You cursed the damned cow and fled the scene locking your car. That was definitely the motivation you needed to look for help nearby. Cows meant farms, right? And farms meant people. People that could help you get home. To Oreo. Or your dead end job. As you walked along the worn down fence separating you from the not-so-cute cows, you really took in your scenery. This was always a busy road as cars would often zoom by due to the scarcity of police officers in such a rural area as well as the naturally high speed limit of 60.

Nobody wants to get stuck here.

Literally no one.

It may be in the middle of nowhere, but it was quite nice. There was this thing called nature all around you if you ignored the 6 lanes that were present to your left, the 6 lanes you were speeding through only minutes before. The most of nature you usually get is the trees planted between pavement in front of your apartment building and your little cacti named Kiwi. This was kind of a nice change of pace, even if you hated to admit it.

Walking through dirt in heels is not ideal, but it had to do as you couldn’t stand the thought of dirt clinging to your feet, unknowing when you’d next take a shower. Even though you walked for an eternity, you could see no sign of life other than the few animals scattered throughout, which definitely didn’t calm your nerves.

You stopped for a second and leaned against the fence post, ignoring the possible germs it could bring with it, and blew raspberries as entertainment. You were really teaching your whits end. You may ask yourself, why don’t you flag down a car? Well, no. That’s why. We don’t do that around here.

Moving on, you continued your trek and went on for a bit more, thanking your decision to get comfortable heels. In the faint distance, you could see some sort of house structure. You squinted to better make it out and you realized it was a farm! It was quite a stellar incentive to increase the pace of your steps and you got to the entrance in only a few minutes.

You groaned in discomfort at the unusual amount of physical exercise you had to do this early in the morning and fixed up your appearance. Bun, redone. Skirt, straightened out. Shirt, saved from wrinkling. Sweat, gone. You marched up to the front door and knocked on the door only to be met with silence. You waited a few minutes until you knocked again. Met with the same reaction, you walked away and noticed an open gate. You walked towards it and sank into mud. Internally crying you marched on and looked out to see different farm animals. Horses, cows, sheep, pigs, anything you can think of was there. Whoever was running this shit meant business, you thought.

You struggled through the viscous mud and rounded a corner only to your greatest joy to find a person! Finally! With renewed vigor, you splashed until you could get in earshot of him.

“Hey! Hi! Uhm I broke down down the road and I was…” you trailed off as he turned around and you caught a glimpse of your possible savior. You were so consumed in your will to go home you never even surveyed who you were approaching. He had long, fluffy black hair that spilled over his forehead in curtain bangs and gorgeous silver dangling from his ears, nose, mouth, and eyebrow. A beautifully strong neck with a gorgeously buff body peeking out from the loosely hanging overalls he had on. His Timberlands were covered in mud and possibly fences but that didn’t deter you from appreciating the beauty of this specimen you found while you should’ve been at work. You almost were glad you broke down, if the consequences weren’t as bad as they are with your job. Almost. A goth cowboy farmer boy? You were signed up since the moment he turned around. His beautiful doe almond eyes shone as they looked at you in seemingly both surprise and concern.

“…iss? Miss? Are you okay?” You blinked a few times and willed yourself to snap out of it. You weren’t a teenager for goodness’ sake! You smiled bashfully and apologized, then explained your situation to the best of your ability. He nodded along and gasped at the right parts and you didn’t forget to include how your coffee had gone cold untouched. Offering his deepest condolences, he offered to make you coffee while you were tracking a bead of sweat running down his hairline onto his chest bones.

“Miss? Is everything alright? I think you’d better come inside, the heat could be getting to you.” You considered declining for a good few seconds before deciding, fuck it. You might as well. You took him up on his offer and he took you into his home. It was nicely decorated in almost a modern barn house way, but instead of white, the most common color was black. From the front door a loveseat was poised in front of a old-looking TV with an equally antique radio which emitted something you remembered from your ballet dance recitals you used to do. You nearly cringed, but kept scanning your eyes around. Next to you, on the opposite side of the living room area, was the dining room. Dark oak wooden chairs paired with a beautifully crafted table. What caught your attention was the fact that each table leg and every chair had intricately carved details, stories you remember you’d read as a child. You lightly grazed the nearest chair, admiring the craftsmanship before the man turned around after taking off his shoes and saw you halfway through his home.

“You like ‘em, miss?” You turned around a blushes slightly, caught in your act. You nodded, “yes, it’s gorgeous. Ive never seen something like this. Who made it?” You looked at him expecting a designer’s name or something like a neighbor gifted it to him but instead was met with, “oh I did, miss. My pride and joy. Spent a few months and then some on each piece.” Your eyes grew in size as your shock increased. You weren’t expecting it, but it also wasn’t too surprising. There’s not a single soul for miles around, after all. He chucked at your reaction.

“These are absolutely beautiful, uhm…” you looked at him in question. He lit up remembering he never told you his name, a shining smile crossing his face.

“Ah, name’s Jungkook, miss! Jeon Jeongguk. Sorry for not introducing myself sooner. And you are…?” You told him your name and smiled back, albeit a little more reserved than he was. He offered to make you some food and some coffee to replace the one you couldn’t drink, something which you pretended to ponder accepting before you gave him a resound yes. You’d take anything he gave you. Poison, food, a place to stay, his bed, his cock. Woah. Okay. Take a step back partner. You rounded the wall which separated the living room from the kitchen and surveyed the area once more. To your left there was a fairly new-looking kitchen with a table and two chairs. It definitely seemed like it had more worn and tear compared to the beautiful craftsmanship you’d had the opportunity to touch. The dark theme continued even with the fridge being a darker steel, the other appliances following. It all seemed pretty high tech, so it got you curious.

“Hey, do you have good electricity here?” He looked over at you from where he was whisking up something for you to eat and smiled, looking back down.

“Well, kinda…? Nothin’ like what ya get at the city I’ll tell you that, missy. Still works well enough, anyway.” You wondered how he got so much metal on him if he seems to speak like he’s never gone to the city, so it prompts you to ask, “how’d you get so many piercings this far out? If you don’t mind me asking of course.” He lets out a chuckle and turns his attention fully to you.

“Well, I have city friends. They come every once in a while. I been a country boy since I was kickin’, if ya wanted to know.” He humorously smiled and went back to his task. You sat down at the table, feeling everything shift slightly under your weight. You took out your phone and tried to see if by some miracle it started working, but to no avail. Looking up and seeing you, he remembered something he was going to tell you, eyebrows rising.

“Ah, missy! I forgot to tell ya! I got a land phone with connection you can use! It slipped my mind. And yeah, no, I don’t got any chargers. Sorry.” He answered quickly before you could even think to ask, but you were grateful for at least having a method of communication. You took him up on his offer and searched your brain for a possible phone number you could call. He took you to the antique method of communication and you dislodged it from its rightful place. The phone beeped as you punched in the numbers into the number pad. At least it isn’t a rotary phone. It rang for a few seconds before the other person picked up.

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Hey mom, it’s me,” you informed.

“Oh my goodness, my darling! Ive been trying to reach you!”she exclaimed, worry evident in her voice.

“I know, I ran out of battery. A nice guy lent me his phone and I was able to call.”

“A nice guy, you say?” Her voice took a suggestive turn, a stark contrast to her earlier one.

“Mom, please. Im stranded like forty minutes away from the city.” You begged, hoping you could reason with her. Yeah, you were 25, but you didn’t need to settle down at that age! If only your mom didn’t think otherwise.

“Right. Well, I can go get you if you tell me where it is possibly uhhh…tomorrow? Tomorrow mornin—no! Afternoon! Sorry, work. Yeah.” You could hear her nervously scrambling to correct herself, knowing this was just some ploy to get you to know the guy.

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about! Now hang tight and make a friend! Loveyoubye!” “Mo—!”before you could get another word in, she hung up. The line went dead and you hung it back up, leaning against the wall. You grimaced for the second time that day. She was really doing this to you. Well, the more you thought about it, the less bad it seemed. You were stranded in a farm with a hot goth boy who carved as a hobby and seemed to know how to cook. What’s better? Good in bed? God, how you wanted to find out.

Walking back towards the kitchen, you caught a glimpse of what you could only guess was his bedroom. His bed was dressed in black silk sheets which reflected the afternoon light and the rest of the room followed the dark theme. Before you took too long, you willed yourself towards the kitchen and sat down with a huff.

“What’d they say?”

“My mom said she can’t pick me up until tomorrow afternoon,” you groaned. He awwed at the statement and finished the preparations to his “simple meal”. He brought 2 plates and a cup in front of you, which you thanked him for before you surveyed the plates. The first bigger plate contained some what looked like chicken and a salad while the smaller plate contained a prettily plated apple pie. The cup, beautifully enough, contained some steaming coffee. Your eyes almost watered as you thanked him and began eating.

“Sorry I cant offer you anything better, miss. If i had know a pretty little thing like you would break down and need my help I would’ve been better prepared.” You blushed at his statement and commented on how good the meat and veggies were.

“Raised the meat and got the veggies from my garden myself! All pretty fresh, since I only killed the poor thing a day ago.” He exclaimed proudly, a sad quality to his voice after the second part. He cheered up pretty fast and said,” and I baked the apple pie a few hours ago actually! I hope you like it, too.” He finished. He was almost bashful. You complimented his food and he informed you he still had some stuff to do out in the farm.

“Ah! If you need any fresh clothes you can look through my stuff and find something,” he finished with a smile. You thanked him and continued eating as he walked out the house and went on with his day. The house was now silent save for the occasional animal noise and the movement of grass with breeze. Finishing your last bite of apple pie, you got up with the coffee and headed towards the assumed bedroom. He didn’t mention where it was, but you doubted he cared whether you looked through his stuff or not. Not like he was here anyway. You set the cup down on one of his dressers and rummaged for something to wear. The uniform was getting pretty stuffy in the heat of the house, so a nice shirt and some pants would do the trick. You took off all your clothes and considered taking off your underwear too. What if something ends up happening? You want to sleep with him so bad. Ultimately, you took everything off. Naked, you took his most see-through-looking white shirt and a pair of his boxers, the only bottom part that fit after tying it a bit. You ran your hands between your thighs to quell your excitement at not having any undergarments and lowly squealed. You hoped your pressing didn’t show how wet you were. You went out to find him with his shoes on, even if they didn’t fit. Hey, they felt like you were wearing your dad’s shoes, but it got the job done. You found him feeding the horses at the stable before what seemed like bath time, soap and a hose ready to go.

“Hey!” You exclaimed. He looked your way and immediately almost choked in surprise, his face turning red.

“I see you… uhm… got comfortable, miss.” He choked out. You internally grinned and nodded,” yeah these fit best and they’re quite nice. Is it okay?”you feigned innocence, pretending like you didn’t elaborately search for both of these pieces with a goal in mind. He shook his head and informed you he was doing exactly what you thought, bathing the horses. It seemed like he was doing that before you got here as he was on the last horse. You asked if you could help and he accepted, smiling humorously. At what, you don’t know. He let the hose run over the horse for a bit before he shut it off, something that gave you an idea. You were going to make it as messy as you could and try to get yourself completely wet, making the already almost see through shirt stick to your body. The perfect plan, if anyone asked you. It would make him want you, you were sure. At the very least start wanting you. What you didn’t know, is that he was restraining himself to the highest degree from pouncing on you right now. You were beautiful from the moment he saw you and he could tell you found him attractive. This act of dressing up in these kinds of clothes just further confirmed it. You lathered the horse in its special soap and made sure to stick to it accidentally, dampening your shirt. Your nipples poked from the cold and wetness and you could even see the pink of them. Jeongguk turned on the hose and you “accidentally” didn’t move out the way. You exclaimed in pretend shock and he immediately shut off the water and ran over to you. You were completely soaked and you feigned sadness over being all wet. He knew what you were getting at. He knew it wasn’t a mistake. He was onto you.

“Oh no miss! You didn’t move out the way! Sorry.” He feigned as well. You sulked a little and went to go back to giving the horse a second coat of soap when he caught you by your waist. He pushed your body against his and got close to your face, so much so you could count the freckles on his cheeks. You only squealed lightly from shock.

“I know what you’re trying to do, miss. You know, trying to be innocent doesn’t work on me,” he breathed out, voice husky. You blushed, not thinking you’d be found out so quickly.

“Let’s say we skip this part and get straight to business. What do you say?” He inquires, a raises brow making his piercing shine in the light. You nod and he presses harder.

“Yes. Or. No,” he presses. You breathe out a “yes” and he immediately smacks your mouth against his. His tongue makes his way into your mouth and both of your tongues dance together. He pats the horse and it starts to trot away, almost as if understanding it was a moment not for its eyes. He walks you back, still making out, until you reach what you think might be hay and he breaks the kiss only to press you down against it. Breathing heavily, he goes back for another kiss and begins moving his hands over your body. He touches your tits and squeezes them both, arousing a surprised moan from you. He breaks the kiss and begins flicking your hard nipples through the fabric.

“This is what you wanted, right? Right, little miss?” You moan in response and he spanks your tits.

“Give me and answer, missy.” You flush answer, “yes, this is exactly what I wanted please don’t stop.” He lowers his head onto your nipples and begins sucking them and moving them around, playing with them like they’re joysticks. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on. You can physically feel your juices dripping down your thighs. You moan feverishly, almost like you’ve never been touched by a man. He then, bites your nipple and stretches out before letting it go. Without warning, he presses against your center and you let out a choked moan.

“Look at you. I can feel how wet you are, baby. You haven’t had anyone as good as me, now have you?” He asks and you answer with a resound no. No man has ever been able to make you into a pool of goo and have you waterfall from your pussy like he has. He returns his assault on your clothed boobs while keeping pressure on your cunt and you cant take it anymore. You begin rubbing against his leg and he stops his manouvers completely. He stares at you as you rub against his leg like a bitch in heat, leaving a noticeable dark spot on his denim overall pants. He chuckles darkly and removes his thigh causing you to whine. He urges you to open your eyes, something you didn’t even know you had done, and held your face firmly to look straight at him.

“Did i say you could use me to get off? Hmm? You were rubbing against me like a fucking whore. Are you that desperate, huh? You wanna get fucked that badly?” He spoke so disrespectfully to you, but god. You fucking loved it. It was only a few seconds before you started to beg. “Yes, I’m your whore. I want your cock so badly, please.” He hummed at your answer and left you altogether. You protested only to be told to shut up. You did so, and was incredibly turned on in the process. He came back with what looked like restraints.

“I usually use these with the horses, but who would’ve thought I’d have to use them on some pretty little slut who stumbled across me today,” he smirked. You whined and playfully fought against his restraints, only to have his seat at your ass. The spank caused you to let out a long, lustful moan and it only made his Cheshire grin bigger.

“Oh? My sweet little bitch likes to be spanked too? Fucking look at you.” He finished restraining you, leaving your arms and legs unable to move.

“This is what you get for using me to get off without permission, missy. You left me no choice.” You whined and moves your pelvis up and down, trying to show him where you wanted him. He smirked and walked away again. You groaned in frustration again and he answered back,

“I’m gonna wash my hands, pretty. Im sure you don’t want any infections.” You simmered down and waited for his return, one that was swift. He smiled and looked at you only for a frown to overcome his face. You inquired him what was wrong and he said, “you’re wearing too many clothes.” Immediately after, he ripped his shirt apart and the boxers, both ruined garments falling limply besides you. He licked his lips looking at your body and surveyed your pussy, finding it dripping. He chucked and spanked your clit, something that made you jolt and moan.

“You’re dripping, baby. I’ve barely even done anything, too… hmm, well you’ve taken your consequences quite well, so why doesn’t little missy get a reward, eh?” You nodded enthusiastically and he smiled, ruffling your hair. Immediately he plugged up your begging hole with two thick fingers, causing you to howl in pain. Its been a while since you had anything in there. Soon enough, though, the whimpers of pain turned into moans of pleasure as he fingered you at a fast and hard pace while rubbing your clit. He was repeatedly hitting your g spot and you felt like you had to pee. Afraid to pee on him, you urged him to stop.

“H…hey J—Jeongg…ungh… Jeongguk…. I think I’m gonna… gonna… pee!” By the end of your sentence you were screaming as you watched clear juices spill out of you. That was new. “What we’re you saying?” He inquired with a smirk. As you panted, he lowered himself and began licking at your pussy. He ate you out with vigor you never knew in your life from past partners until he made you cum with just his tongue, without needing the aid of anything else. As you came down from your orgasm, he came up and kissed you as your juices ran down his chin. He looked you in the eyes and asked almost shyly, a stark change in demeanor, “you think I can fuck you?” You breathlessly chuckled and answered, “fuck yeah.”

He took off his overalls as soon as you said that, grinning madly. The lowering of the overalls showed his beautifully sculpted abs and pecs clearly and the lower he went the more you realized he wasn’t wearing any underwear. His dick sprung to life leaking precum from its pink tip. He took his hand and jerked himself a little before he lined up at your entrance and looked at you questioningly. You nodded and he went in slowly. Your juices made the ability for friction disappear and soon he started pounding into your weeping pussy. He reached down and choked you lightly as he began stimulating your clit again and you screamed in overstimulation. He didn’t give up and eventually you began feeling pleasure and his cock rammed into you relentlessly. He panted as he fucked into your cunt and your pussy squeezed his dick. You moaned in pleasure, despite your restricted air flow and he groaned from the feel of his dick fucking your pussy. Soon enough, you came to your end squeezing his dick like a python and he pulled it out. He jerked off and came over your stomach and tits covering them entirely.

“Fuck, if I had a phone I would’ve definitely taken a picture of this. You look beautiful like this, miss.” He panted and you chuckled breathlessly. You both stared at each other attempting to catch your breaths in silence. He was the first who broke it.

“So… wanna take a shower?”

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #farmer!jungkook #dom!jungkook #yeah this was completely unplanned #idk how i squeezed it out of my brain #bts smut #bts x reader #fanfic #jungkook fanfic #smut

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