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#the silence is so so pivotal

jinx-you-owe-me · 1 month

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PART 20

of the dfk 2023 audiobook translation

@cnka

Narrator (audiobook): Robert puts another piece of wood on the trunk and swings the axe.

Bökh: „And you never wanted to get in touch?"

The Nichtraucher picks up a piece of wood.

Silence.

Nichtraucher: „Why should I? We didn’t see each other for the past ten years either.“

He rips the piece of wood apart with his bare hands. While holding eye contact with Justus.

Silence.

Justus lowers his head.

Jo: „Uh.. weren’t you-" Martina, quietly: „Jo, leave it. Lets go.“

Martina, louder: „We need to go! We still have something to do.“

The kids leave. Jo and Martina are holding hands as they walk away.

Bökh: „Yeah… Thank you, kids.“

Jo, whispering as they walk away: "What was that just now?!"

Robert picks up the chopped wood and walks back to his wagon. Justus looks after him.

Narrator (audiobook): If the two friends will find back together? Matze isn’t so sure of that.

Matze, sarcastically: „Well, that was a great success!“ Jo: „Yeah, so much for friendship between Internals and Externs.“

Narrator (audiobook): At least Robert granted Herr Bökh access to his wagon. He looks around lost in thought more or less, while Robert washes the dishes.

Dishes clatter. There is silence otherwise.

Justus stares wistfully at Robert while he washes the dishes.

Justus takes his eyes off Robert and starts looking around while Robert continues to ignore him.

Bökh: „I thought you were living in London.“ Nichtraucher: (silence) Bökh: „It's nice here.“ Nichtraucher: (silence)

Justus starts walking around.

Bökh: „I told the kids about our friendship.“ Nichtraucher: „As a cautionary tale?“ Bökh: (chuckles/scoffs) „No. Of course not.“

Narrator (audiobook): Bökh spots the poster of „the Bandits“, the same one hanging in his apartment.

Bökh: „The 'Wild Dog' that we always played in is still there.“

Nichtraucher: (silence)

Bökh: „Should we meet there sometime? For a beer?“

Robert looks up.

He lets out a small huff, almost like an incredulous laugh or a scoff.

He dries his hands on a towel and folds it.

Nichtraucher: (silence) Nichtraucher: „I don’t know what we would have to say to each other.“

Bökh: „Hm. Well. A lot of time has passed.“

Narrator (audiobook): Robert sits down at the table and lights himself a cigarette.

Justus turns as well and starts looking around again.

Nichtraucher: „Why didn’t you come to Marie’s funeral back then?“

Nichtraucher: „You didn’t even get in touch.“

[„You didn't even get in touch“ -> parallels to „And you never wanted to get in touch?“]

Justus is silent. He starts fiddling with his jacket and pulls it off his shoulder. He lets out a deep, shaky sigh and is silent for another few moments.

Bökh: „…I don’t know, you met her and… and suddenly you were gone.“

[Parallels to „suddenly your closest loved ones are gone“]

Bökh: „As if everything -our friendship, the band- as if that had all just been a dream.“

Justus turns around and looks at Robert.

Bökh: „Wir zwei. Wir hatten doch Pläne.“

Bökh: „That really hurt me.“ Nichtraucher: „It hurt you.“

Silence. Just the music.

Bökh: „Yes. Very much back then.“

The Nichtraucher lets out a soft incredulous laugh again, almost like a scoff.

Nichtraucher: „I see.“

Long silence. Justus stares out the window. Finally, he turns and walks to the door.

Bökh: „You know where to find me.“

Justus leaves the wagon. Robert nods to himself silently.

Narrator (audiobook): And with these words, Herr Bökh leaves his friend’s train wagon. If the two will ever see each other again?

#das fliegende klassenzimmer #dfk 2023 audiobook translation #dfk #das fliegende klassenzimmer 2023 #mine #this is the most scene of dfk 2023 to me. i am having so many feelings and thoughts about it #there is so much to unpack #i really hope this did it justice... the whole. silent staring obviously doesnt translate #the silence in general doesnt translate #i would recommend to actually watch the scene #the silence is so so pivotal #another addition;#ach gott ich nehm grad neue bilder auf weil diese szene hq wirklich wert ist #und ich komm immer noch nicht darüber hinweg dass justus den nichtraucher allen ernstes 7 SEKUNDEN LANG ANSTARRT WÄHREND DER SPÜLT #ich hab hier wirklich am image limit gekratzt #tbh mit dem foto von den kindern kann ich nichts anfangen aber es scheint nicht unwichtig zu sein so i included it #it cant be robert and justus cause these kids are waaayy too young #if robert and justus met in school #these kids are like. idk. 9??#and i assumed they met when they were around the age of the kids in this movie #but maybe i got it wrong??#its so funny at some point i dont even talk about the Main Things of this scene anymore and focus on the most miniscule details instead #thats probably bc ive watched it maybe 10 times now and literally know this scene by heart. but let us PLEASE talk about the Main Things #i am so ready to have endless discussions about justraucher #hopefully the last addition of tags;#ok honestly i made almost as many edits to the tags as i did to the post #cause i kept changing little things so my comments werent up to date anymore #i think this part will be my magnum opus out of them all. but who knows theres still 9 to come #i think it shows that this is my favourite 🙃#oh yes i also added mentions to the parallels. felt like these were significant

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yellowocaballero · 2 years

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The newest chapter of good luck Jake makes me feel like I've chewed stained glass, it's so pretty but I am bleeding. Honestly Jake's whole arc this fic reminds of that quote that's like: there's a period when you've gone wrong but continue. sometimes theres a luxurious amount of time before anything bad happens. Honestly that's the vibe for the whole system and I am so deeply excited and dreading watching that moment arrive because it is looming the goddamn horizon. ＞︿＜ 💜💜💜

Yes hello getting back to your comment has been on the to-do list jkalsdfj. I think I got halfway through and then got lost in my thoughts and then decided to save all of us the horror of another essay in the comment section.

But thank you for the insanely lovely comments & for the ask! Looking back at my Tumblr promos for my fic I noticed that my favorite chapter is usually the second-to-last chapter, since that's where shit normally hits the fan emotionally. The last chapter is where shit tends to hit the fan plot-wise. The last chapter actually does a shitton of wrap-up character work, because I realized that I had to wrap up emotional arcs from two stories/120k words, but it's all pretty positive stuff. Jake's had His Big Realization, and we just have to see what he does with it. It's a happy ending this time! I think it's probably a sign of how weird this story was that the central relationship of the story and the relationship that has to be 'solved' and put to rest at the end is a one where the both parties do not exchange a single word the ENTIRE story. I think I pulled it off though. Maybe.

I think there are certain kinds of people who continuously and persistently create their own problems. Marc is one of those people, except he also has other magical problems. People who have extremely maladaptive coping mechanisms for life struggles will continue to wreck things until they hammer out those shitty behaviors. And the fictional satisfaction about this, I think, is that irl these shitty behaviors can be so constant and low level that they can just go unchecked for years, and they persist for an insanely long time. In fiction I can do things like "force a confrontation" and "have a guy's friends walk in on him murdering someone" and "have the Avengers hold an intervention" that bring these behaviors to the crisis point and force the main character into a catalyst moment where they have to make a life-changing choice. In fiction this causes an upswing where they get better, in life you just kinda tend to struggle along.

That's part of why the premise of the first fic was Marc having a relapse. It happens. I guess you really have to thank Jake - if it wasn't for his extremely loud and attention seeking behavior, then Good Luck, Jake! would have been nothing more than Marc's very bad depressive episode just struggling along. Maybe the other joy of fiction is that in real life life just always goes on and things go back to normal no matter how wrecked up you are inside. In fiction your bad thing is exemplified through a cabbie that repeatedly murders people until somebody gives you emotional attention. Thanks for the comments & the ask & tolerating the off-topic answer!

#my writing #god i want to respond to your other comments rn bc there's SO MUCH to say but i have to practice this presentation #sentences you say while you're in a class but sentences you also have to say when you're teaching it #god this week's been a fuck #sometimes terrible tragedies happen at work and you and your coworkers are insanely depressed about it #so you awkwardly sit in silence before pivoting to the next thing you have to do because we're busy and we still have a job to do #you just gotta take things as they happen & then stop thinking about it and pretend it never happened I guess.#my method.#oof back to work

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godzexperiment · 1 year

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tonight's specialty class of brain rot *not as had been planned* -is handed being totally normal about nix being scarred as fuck outwardly and it's like .001 of what he's gone through/all that he Sees on his skin plus not accounting for internally-

: )

#<<insomniac vampire speaking>> mun post #(i am refraining from just spamming my literally vibrating from so many things to say about it)#(especially! ahhh nix scrambling to pivot attention from it and the dead silence 'oh shit' when it fails)#(probably just wanting to go far far away and being frozen waiting for comment of any sort)#(trembling violently from the inability to just flee the situation)

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azrielhours · 28 days

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Tight Enough

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Reader needs help tightening her corset and no one's around to help but Azriel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit,” you breathed, pulling at the laces awkwardly around your waist, trying and failing to tighten your corset. You shifted them around your shoulders, hoping it’d provide sufficient pulleying. You bowed forward, yanking.

Still not enough.

You huffed. You’d been at this for upwards of twenty minutes, hauling and tugging in all kinds of positions til your hands shook.

For all the gentlemanliness and compassion in Rhys and Cassian, you entirely refused to ask mated men to assist you.

Tying the laces onto the doorknob, you tried letting your body fall in the opposite direction. Your feet slid against the tile as you pivoted, nearly tripping. “Shit.”

This was so fucked.

A gentle knock on the door startled you. “Y/N?”

Azriel.

Fuck.

You scrambled to untie the laces from the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Cass and Rhys stepped out for a bit. Are you alright?”

Fuck.

You scrubbed at your face. This was the outcome you’d been avoiding above all. Worse than the mated men. Mated my ass. You should’ve bit your tongue and asked Cass for help.

“Y/N?” he asked again at your silence.

“Sorry,” you breathed, heart racing.

You cracked open the bathroom door, peering up at him. He searched your eyes patiently as you searched for your courage. “I can’t get my corset on,” you admitted quietly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, eyes marginally widening.

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you said quickly, voice tight. “I’ll just—I’ll try—”

“I can help,” he offered softly.

You looked up at him again, eyes pleading. Turn him down. “I—” you swallowed. Turn him down. A glance at the wall behind him with a clock revealed you were even later than you thought. Turn him down. You bit your lip and steeled your spine. Fuck. You were really doing this. “Okay,” you whispered, like you could hide the admission from even yourself.

He gave a slight nod of encouragement, stepping aside to let you come out.

“I—let me—one second,” you stammered, closing the door.

You were still undressed.

Right.

Another huff of indignation as you yanked on a slip to cover your bare legs. This was fine, right? It was just help he was offering. Necessary help.

You took a steadying breath and walked out of the bathroom.

Azriel had moved to stand near the fireplace, watching it with his back to you, like it would offer you privacy. He could surely see your panicked mortification.

You padded to him, placing a hand softly on his elbow to let him know you were ready.

He turned, face carefully neutral as he took in the sight of you.

Where corsets were typically worn over shifts, this one was fashioned to sit directly upon your skin. So you stood before Azriel, flushed cheeks and fidgeting fingers in just your corset and a skirt.

Azriel focused his gaze strictly on your face, didn’t dare let it fall to where the flesh of your breasts generously spilled over the delicate lace trim adorning the hem. Didn’t allow a glance at the thin shift mercifully—barely—covering your legs.

He’d never seen you so undressed.

You shifted your weight between feet beneath his hefty gaze. “Usually, Nuala or Ceridwen or Mor help me,” your voice was still tight. “I’ve never had to do it by myself.”

Azriel nodded. Your skin had a slight sheen to it in the light of the fire. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of your intricate upswept style, curling at the nape of your neck. Azriel might have bitten back a laugh at the endearing sight, at the physical evidence of your struggle—had you not struck him dumb with how beautiful you looked.

How you allowed him to bear witness to your exposed skin, to this intimacy.

He was no stranger to corsets—hell, he’d taken women wearing lingerie that made your attire look like a priestess’s robe, and yet—

He shook his head. This was just help. No matter how lovely you were.

He cleared his throat. He needed you to turn. “Would you—” He twisted a finger in the air, unsure how to ask.

“Oh,” you breathed, still donning that pretty blush on your cheeks. You took another step toward him, turning at last.

With the absence of your imploring gaze—one he’d scarcely forget—Azriel exhaled, allowed himself an assessing glimpse down your form presented before him. He bit back a curse. The laces across the length of the corset were haphazardly pulled. He wondered how Rhys overlooked something like this that clearly required assistance. The spaces between the undone laces revealed your bare back, curving all the way down to the slip resting on your backside.

He didn’t know how to begin touching you.

“Az?” you asked, voice still thin, your nervousness anything but subtle. But you’d been comfortable enough to ask him for help, and that made his heart soar.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat again. Raised his hands hesitantly; a silent deep breath, and he began.

He carefully pulled at the laces starting from the top of your corset, loosening them to correctly adjust their security. Azriel keenly tried his best to pick up each lace without touching your skin. Tried not to consider how creamy it felt when he did graze skin, how warm and perfect. When he’d finished working his way down, he began tugging at the string to tighten it properly.

At the first firm tug, you gasped, stumbling backwards into him. “Oh,” you stepped away hastily. You’d landed directly onto his abdomen, trapping his hands between your bodies. Your own hands had landed on his thighs, bracing yourself. “I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“It’s alright.” Azriel tried not to think about how your softness felt. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t recall the last time he’d helped a female with her corset.

You looked at him over your shoulder, doing funny things to his heart again with your eyes. “We need a bedpost.” There was sheepish mirth lighting your eyes, displacing the anxiety from before. He managed a reassuring smile back and nodded.

You walked to Cassian’s bed in the inn room you were sharing, gripping the post for stability. Azriel dutifully returned to your back, and you tried not to think about how the warmth from his body radiated so easily into yours from your proximity. How careful he was being with his hands, doing everything to make you more comfortable.

He yanked gently in warning. When you remained sturdily in your spot, his pulling grew stronger, working his way down. When he neared the base of your spine, he began tying the lace. Your hands moved to your waist, feeling snug but not quite as tight-laced as you’d wanted.

You turned to peer at him over your shoulder again. He met your eye in question. “Um, I was hoping to wear it a little tighter,” you admitted.

“Tighter than this?” His brows rose.

You nodded.

He undid the knot, pulling the laces tighter as per your request, waiting for approval.

Once again, you caressed your waist, pushing the corset to feel its give.

“Is it tight enough?” he asked, voice gravely.

“Can I have one more inch?” you asked, and he internally composed himself.

“I don’t know if it would work,” he said.

“Here,” you released your waist, reaching behind, wiggling your fingers for his hands. Azriel extended his hands to hover on either side of your waist, allowing you to guide them on your waist. You pushed onto his hands, making him squeeze your waist. “Can you hold it there?” you asked.

Azriel swallowed, holding your waist tightly, pressing the corset tighter to your body as you reached behind, pulling the untied lace. He tracked your every move, every careful twist of your fingers, how your arms brushed against his hands. Your hands worked dangerously close to his body as you worked to secure the ties at last.

When you finished, he regretfully released you, allowing you to turn, standing between him and the bedpost. He braced himself for the onslaught of your stare, the way he knew you’d look up at him.

Where there’d previously been jittery nervousness, there was something in your eyes now that set his nervousness off. A sense of open depth that swallowed him whole as you took him in. “Thank you,” you breathed. A small smile tugged your lips up.

He wanted to admit something stupidly vulnerable, like thank you for trusting me. So instead, he took a step back, ducked his head, and said, “You’re welcome.”

That pretty, trustful look returned to your eyes, a look he’d do anything to keep others from seeing. “Maybe you can help me zip up my dress too?” Your playful glint had him smiling back.

“Of course.”

You hurried to the bathroom and rustled for a bit before returning to him with the top half of a floor-length, black evening gown hanging off your torso. You stood before him, more confidently than before, and Azriel took his time zipping it up, tucking away the corset. Tucking away the knowledge, the memory of it. It was all his to cherish.

As you put your heels on, a knock sounded on the door. Azriel opened it to find Rhys and Cassian conveniently ready to go, all smug smirks.

“Sorry for making us late,” you said, rushing up behind Azriel. “I had a hard time getting dressed.” Azriel stepped aside, allowing you to exit, taking Cassian’s arm.

Rhys mockingly tsked. “Sorry to hear that. How’d you manage?”

“Azriel helped,” you said over your shoulder.

“Well, thank goodness for Azriel,” Rhys winked at him.

Azriel stood stunned, staring in disbelief at Rhys until you looked back at him blushing, a shy smile knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Yes. Thank goodness for Azriel.”

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(lmk if your urls changed, sorry some of them don't work!)

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel/reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azrielhours #azriel fluff

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screampied · 2 months

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YOHHH I JS READ UR NEW POST, IM GONNA LYK HOW MUCH I LOVED IT LATER 😭😭😭

i do got a request tho 😻 soft dom toji talking the reader through her first orgasm, or hate sex with toji !! you can choose either !!

—pearl anon <3

Ⳋ᧙ : having hate sex with toji.

warnings. fem reader, hate sex, shower sex, dirty talk, praise, choking, breath play, mdni.

“fuck you, toji.”

you scoffed, yet little did you know how quick you’d be eating up your words. you slip off out a small gasp once he quickly spun you around in the shower. as water raced down your back, you were met with toji pressed up firm against you, parting your legs.

“fuck me?” he mocks your tone, and you almost slip off a moan once he runs a hand between your legs, brushing two fingers against your drenched slicked folds. “fuck me but y’er this fuckin’ wet?”

“that’s just the water.”

“that’s just the water,” he mimicked your voice, butchering it entirely. you were close up against the shower wall, and toji’s warmth went all over your body. “if y’er gonna talk to me like that at least face me. but you can’t do that in this position can you?”

it was pure silence.

“what i thought. no fuckin’ back talk, brat.”

“you talk so much,” you spat, only to whine once he gives your pussy a brief squeeze. it felt good, your breath soaks against the wall as you panted before you bit your lip. “just fuck me already.”

“got some nerve tellin’ me what to do,” toji scoffs, and you moan once you feel the tip of his dick graze against your folds. he was so thick, just the sole fat tip was enough.

you felt beads of sweat run down the sides of your neck as you stood still.

“bet me havin’ you like this is getting you all wet. knew you were always nasty for me.”

your eyes roll for a bit before you part your thighs a bit more.

toji makes you arch your back for him. he wraps a hand around his girth of a length before you feel him starting to realign himself.

a soft whine flew past your lips once he teasingly starts to slap his tip against your slick entrance.

“audacity,” he hisses in a low tone.

the base in his voice made you pulse—you felt so hot, the steam of the shower wafting in the air, ringing started to form in your ear from the droplets plopping down amongst the floor.

“…audacity to say ya hate me with a pussy this drenched.”

toji’s dirty talk never failed to make you throb, yearn desperately for more.

he was so filthy, his mouth was especially. he knew no bounds.

all he knew was rhat he could say just about anything to make you drip all right between your thighs.

rough hands of his roam all over your body before he brings your ass right up against him.

“f-fuck you,” you whine, his girth completely stretching you out. he was so big, it was almost too hard to fathom — too hard to process.

toji’s wet body rocked in such a sensual way, all it took was for him to wrap a hand around your neck, ghosting a middle finger near the passageway of your throat.

he leans up close to your ear, pivoting his hips before you’re met with a rude thrust. “you fuck like a girl.”

“you couldn’t be funny if you tried, girl,” he whispers, sneaking a kiss towards your neck. once you start being fucked behind by toji, he grunts at how the sheer ruthless smacks your ass feels. just thwacking and thwacking back against him in response. “yeah. try ‘n hide those pathetic moans from me.”

as he was pressed up against you, toji teasingly brings a hand towards your ass. you gasp, feeling the sharp sting his palm presents you.

he maintains a tempo before you moan, the thought of becoming fucked from behind turning into a reality for you.

he was all up close, even being a tease to bite against your neck—you moan once he pivots his hips just to reach that spot.

“nothing to say now, huh,” he scoffs, bringing two rough hands towards your ass.

you shiver from his touch, feeling the droplets of water that raced down him dance against your skin. for a few seconds, nothing but silence was your initial response before he chuckles. “hate me yet here you are. bent over of me like some slut.”

“s-shut up.” you grouse, the temple of your cheek being pressed up against the slick tile wall.

toji raspy laughs against your ear, “make me. oh right, you can’t.”

and his tone was filled with such tease—you moaned once he pulls your ass up a bit, getting such a thorough angle that he’s reaching so deep. you gripped back against him and it made you bite your tongue to not produce such loud whiney moans. “say ya hate me but y’er pussy says otherwise.”

he always sounded so sure of himself, the pure smoothness that ran off toji’s touch — it never failed to make you soak right between your legs.

his cock was so thick, you felt it reach just about every spot, every crevice with such ease. it left you with your maw practically dropped, such moans escaping your lips.

the way his vigorous hips maintained such speed. you whined, feeling your right thigh start to bounce. fingers of his wander against your skin, tracing the outline of your figure just to watch you shiver from his touch.

“such a sensitive girl,” he purrs, right beside your ear. you moaned, feeling the edge of his mouth, the side where his scar ran across his lip swipe gingerly against your cheek. toji’s so mean with his thrusts, it leaves your mind empty — brain just roaming with all kinds of filthy thoughts. “should see y’erself for me right now.”

he knew every inch of your body, every spot to make you tingle and whine out in pleasure. toji positions his hips in a way that you feel the girth, the stretch he continuously makes against your cunt. he groans, looking down to see how your slick departs from him again and again.

“fuckin’ messy,” he groans, and you feel the heftiness of his base thwack against you. just a simple gesture of that makes your ears rings before you arch just a bit more, dumbly moaning and whimpering for more. you sounded desperate, which you were. “looks like someone’s getting close.”

“t— toji,” you mewl, entire body being drenched from the water. toji too — his body heat radiated amongst you, him being so close and personal this much towards your body made you pulse.

he snickers, bringing a smack towards your ass. “don’t give me that. thought you hated me, baby.”

toji smiles, knowing you were probably pouting from his witty response. you felt multiple nerves stir up inside you, and your breathing started to becoming heavy and irregular.

each time his tip prodded against that particular spot, you let out a cute noise, chasing your incoming orgasm.

“jus’ let me cum,” you whined, fully disregarding what he was saying. you were so close—you squeezed your eyes shut for a brief moment, transmitting into a world of total ecstasy. toji brings his hands towards your waist, pressing two thumbs against your skin before he shoves you back and forth against him. he was so thick, your mouth remained open before you start whimpering, not knowing how long you could hold out. “pleasepleaseplease.”

“say pretty please,” he starts, and that’s when you feel his hips slow down. as his voice trails, you frown once his sudden sloppy pace goes to an abrupt halt. “in that cute voice of yours.”

you whine, clenching around him before murmuring out a sweet, “pretty please toji.”

“good girl,” he maunders lowly, his tone made you pulse — it was embarrassing. whenever he did that thing where he pitches his tone, the bass that hid behind it. especially whenever he praised you. toji fixes your posture, skimming a finger down your back before kissing the back part of your neck. “go ‘head. give it to me. i guess...”

you couldn’t see him, but you’d bet money he’d just given you an eye roll. once you came, it was so much — you moaned from the shockwaves that ran out of you. “f-fuckkkk,” you spat, convulsing all on his shaft.

even whilst standing up, your legs felt so numb. butterflies resided in your tummy, and once he let you compose yourself, he turns you around.

toji’s smirking at you visibly, and your eyes were all low and half lidded — you give him a glare before he leans in to kiss your neck and slowly raise your leg up against him. he whispers right against your skin a rasp, “uh huh. that’s what i thought.”

#★vegasbaby.#pearl anon #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #anime smut #female reader

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goodluckdetective · 5 months

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I finished the Hbomber guy video and as someone who pays quite a bit of attention to grifters, I think there’s a solid chance that James will re-appear after his silence with a right wing pivot on how the “tolerant left canceled” him and “betrayed” him and he makes reaction videos just dunking on them.

I don’t want to be right here, but it isn’t an uncommon pivot, so I thought it best to state it for the record and hope Apollo’s dodgeball does not hit me.

#iz rambles #hbomberguy #james somerton #Given his opinions on women it wouldn’t be a hard pivot either #also it’s the one place he could pivot where people wouldn’t give a shit he plagerised cus he plagerised people they fucking hate #same with ivana trump: they don’t care it’s stolen cus he’d be triggering the libs #frankly they’d probably think his grift is super funny

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ponderingmoonlight · 5 months

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gojo x wife! y/n where megumi slips up and calls y/n mom since she helped raise him and gojo starts thinking about how they would be as parents?

Got ya! Love this request, hope you enjoy <3

Megumi accidentally calling Satoru's wife "mum"

Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader

Word Count: 1,4k

Synopsis: basically the request above lol

Warnings: this is pure fluff so enjoy, wrote this on my way to Disneyland so look over any spelling mistakes lol

Tags: @arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld @dazaisdick @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @mokoartpost @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul

Megumi always admired your tenderness. Since the day he met you when he was just a kid, you have grown on him like no one else. It seemed like you genuinely cared about him and his sister throughout this entire time, standing up for him when needed while leaving him for rest when he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

Despite being the longtime girlfriend and now wife of a chaotic person like Gojo Satoru, you never lost your spark, your cool temper, your striking beauty. You are simply always the (y/n) he knows and secretly admires from head to toe. He never truly admitted it, but to him, you are like a mother, one of the most important people in his life, the pivotal point of his decisions.

It shouldn’t have been such a big surprise then when he accidentally called you mom in front of basically everyone.

A brief moment of thoughtlessness in the middle of pure chaos. He didn’t put much thought into his words until they eventually slipped off his tongue with no turning back.

“Can we talk about this later mom?”

Gojo stand right by your side, hand casually placed around your hip like usual when his eyes dart towards Megumi immediately. Did he hear that correctly? Did Megumi-chan just call you “mom”?

“What did you just say, Megumi-chan?”

Fuck fuck fuck. A wave of embarrassment rolls over Megumi immediately, gaze fixed to the ground. He just called you mom. Fuck, he just called you mom! Not only in front of Gojo, but Yuji, Nanami and Nobara. This is bad. Very very bad.

“Megumi…”, you breathe out, tears stinging in your eyes immediately.

While you were always keen to give Megumi the best life possible in this cruel world, you never imagined that he’d see you as someone this important in his life. You it’s not always easy, living with Satoru and you. After all, he is the most chaotic person you know while you are the complete opposite of him. It never seemed as if Megumi enjoyed your company this much. While staying with you more than with Satoru, nothing like that ever slipped off his tongue.

But right now, he called you mom. He really called you mom.

“Sorry”, he mumbles, turning away from your widen eyes.

Fuck, how embarrassing. You must think he’s a total freak for saying something like that. Especially given the fact that you and Satoru don’t have any kids yet. Was has gotten into him?

Nanami’s eyes are darted towards him in silence, Nobara and Yuji giggling to themselves while all Megumi is able to do is hiding his blushing face in his uniform. He needs to get away from here. Fast.

Faster than any of you are able to react, he storms out of the room, leaving especially Satoru and you in pure shock.

“I think he really called you mom, darling”, Satoru breathes out.

You wipe your eyes, tears threatening to fall down your eyes.

“I never thought he’d see me like this. It might seem a little stupid, but…Megumi is like a son to me. To know that he feels the same about me is just…so overwhelming…”

Satoru can’t help but admire you. That little blush that creeps up your face, how you smile into yourself like a little child. All these nights you spent by Megumi’s side, caring for him and his sister when sick, having serious conversations with him when he caused trouble.

It dawns to him. You’d be such a good mom. In fact, this is what you already are to Megumi. All this time, Satoru never thought about having his own kids. Still being young, putting you and potential kids in the risk of this cruel world. But seeing you like this, all flustered by Megumi’s innocent words, totally amazed by the word “mum”. Maybe, just maybe…The thought of a baby in your arms crosses his mind, how you hold its tiny hands while humming it to sleep.

“I will look after him”, you announce, fumbling with your hands nervously while everyone around you just stands there bamboozled.

“Hey”, you greet him gently, sitting down beside him on the bench that overlooks the whole area.

His head rests in his hands, gaze fixed on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to say that”, he begins rapidly.

You bring your legs up, hugging them tightly while smiling down at him.

“I don’t have a problem with that at all. It’s just that…I never thought you’d see me as something other than Satoru Gojo’s wife. But I don’t want to interpret too much into it. After all, it was just a slip of your tongue, right? Just wanted to make sure you don’t feel bad or something. Don’t worry about it.”

With one gentle rub of his back you get back up, ready to leave when he suddenly grabs your hand.

“This wasn’t an accident. I never got to know my biological mum. And since the day I’ve met Satoru and you, you were always something like a mother to me. I really admire and appreciate you, (y/n).”

Oh. Your eyes begin to water all over again, you can’t help but swallow him with your arms.

“I feel the same, ‘Gumi”, you matter against the crook of his neck, careful not to touch his hair.

“Now now, what’s going on here? Are you stealing my girlfriend, Megumi-chan?” Satoru’s voice suddenly questions from behind, making Megumi jump out of your grasp in an instant.

“You know you have a real talent for ruining someone’s moment, right?”, you comment dryly.

“See you, Megumi.”

With Satoru’s hand holding onto yours tightly, you wander down the way to Jujutsu High. What a precious boy he is. You couldn’t be prouder of Megumi. And knowing that you had such an effect on him…You feel like crying all over again.

“I hope you told them not to make fun of Megumi for saying that”, you break the silence, earning a little chuckle from Satoru.

“Nanami did that for me, don’t worry. What did you talk about earlier?”

“Just wanted to make sure he isn’t embarrassed and that I know it was just a slip of the tongue. Nothing to put too much thought in. But it seems like he really sees me as something like a…mother figure, I guess.”

“Doesn’t surprise me the slightest.”

Huh? Your eyes dart towards him, feet stopping right in their tracks.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, when he had to draw something, it was always the dogs, you and him. You holding his hand, you cooking, you kicking someone’s ass. Don’t you remember how everyone always thought you are his mother? All those years he looked up to you. It doesn’t surprise me that he sees you as his mum. But I should have seen it sooner, what a great mother you’d be.”

His explanation makes your heart skip a beat. Over the last years, you never lost a word over something like kids or being parents. After all, your situation was clear: you live in a world full of danger and death. No child should have to deal with this right from the start. But the way he looks at you with a warm smile, hand holding onto yours tightly. Does he mean…?

“I don’t know, Megumi’s words made me think about having our own kids.”

“Our own kids?”

You can’t believe your ears. Even though you never admitted it towards Satoru, the thought of having children definitely fills your heart with nothing but joy. And especially his kids…

“You already have been and would be such a great mother. What do you say, (y/n)? Mind if we try it?”

You aren’t able to answer. Instead, you let yourself fall into his already opened arms, giggling like an idiot. A child with Satoru Gojo, the love of your life. Yeah, this doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, this sounds like heaven itself.

“I take this as a yes.”

“I’d love that”, you breathe out, pressing your lips against his longingly.

“You’d be such a great dad. I just know it”, you huff against his mouth, heart jumping up and down in joy.

“Even though I told Nobara and Yuji to make at least a little fun of Megumi-chan?”

“YOU DID WHAT?”

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stevebabey · 7 months

Text

Eddie is beginning to wonder if he’ll ever reach a point where Steve couldn’t reduce him to this state.

This state being… transfixed. Eddie is sure he must look like a lovesick cartoon. In fact, if he could manage to drag his gaze away, he’d probably find red hearts circling around his head in a halo, popping like little bubbles.

But Eddie can’t move his eyes. Can’t even close his mouth either.

Steve’s talking to him too, which is most definitely worse — he’s totally missing every word. He can see Steve’s lips moving, pink plush lips wrapping around words but fuck, that was a total trap because now Eddie is just looking at his lips. He tries to refocus, to listen. His eyes just wander back to what he was staring back at the first place.

Was Steve like this all the time? Just a walking around looking so damn delectable?

Or is it Eddie, just a starved man who’s been living off stolen glances, for as long as he can remember? For once, he’s learning, he’s allowed to look.

And by God, is he looking.

Steve’s not even doing it on purpose either, which probably makes the whole thing funnier. Eddie knows what his boyfriend (boyfriend! he thinks giddily in his mind) looks like when he’s cleaned up to impress. He can spot the way Steve preens beneath Eddie’s lingering gaze.

This is not that. Today, Steve is just cleaning, a usual Sunday morning ritual.

He’s got some old sport shorts on and he’s clearly grown a bit since he first got them— unless Hawkins has always been giving out slutty little shorts to the basketball team (They haven’t. Eddie would know if they did.)

He’s wearing one of his wife-beater singlets too. It’s a little on the scrappy side though, considering it’s nearly see-through with how worn it is.

Honestly, in Eddie’s humble and gay opinion, it’s stupidly hot. The dark hair dusted across of Steve’s chest is visible beneath it, the shirt showing off the shape of his broad chest. Even better, his happy trail is visible and goddamn, if that doesn’t make Eddie happy, he doesn’t know what will.

But it’s not even that.

Quite frankly, Eddie’s rather embarrassed that he’s basically blue-screening because Steve is pulling out the cord out from the vacuum cleaner.

But… but he’s yanking it up towards his chest, slow and strong repetitive motions— that take enough effort to make his biceps bulge with every tug.

Eddie can’t stop watching. The cord must be several metres long and he’s not sure if he should be cursing it or thanking it for the view he gets; Steve’s tan arms flexing and rippling. Try as he might, Eddie can’t help imagining how they must look when Steve’s got his hand aroun—

“—hello? Are you even listening to me?”

Steve’s voice cuts into Eddie’s dangerously side-tracked thoughts and he pauses his tugging at the same time. It’s the thing that finally allows him to break his lustful stare at Steve’s arms. Oh God, he just got all hot and bothered over his boyfriend doing the vacuuming.

“Hello.” Eddie says back, because that was the first word to register in his brain. “I mean- yes. I’m—”

Eddie decides mid-sentence that he’s not getting away with the lie. He pivots. “Okay, no, I didn’t hear that. Would you please tell me what you just said, oh lovely sweet man of mine?”

Ever the butterer-upper, he was. Thank God it works on Steve. He rolls his eyes a little but there’s an adoring grin on his lips.

“Man of mine,” Steve mutters amusedly under his breath. He drops the vacuum cord on the carpeted floor and leans down the grab the handle of the vacuum. “You just kinda froze when you came in. I was asking if everything was okay? I’m just doing this room then I’ll be done, if you don’t like the noise.”

Eddie adores that Steve’s taken his silence as though he might be afraid of the vacuum cleaner or something. He nearly snorts aloud at how far from the truth it is.

“Uh huh.” Eddie nods, not bothering to correct him. He jerks a thumb behind him, pointing at nothing. “I’m just gonna…”

He spins on his heel and exits left stage, fast as he can while still looking normal (he’s unsuccessful, as he leaves a baffled Steve behind him.) As he enters into the kitchen and decides to fix them both a pot of coffee, Eddie lets himself giggle over the pure absurdity of what just happens.

It’s mortifying. It’s hilarious. He can never tell Steve.

Except, when Steve comes to find him in the kitchen and trades a kiss for some coffee, Eddie can’t help it. All he ever wants to do is make Steve laugh.

He decides it’s worth the embarrassment when Steve laughs so hard coffee comes out his nose.

Steve teasingly promises that he’ll to try be less distracting, then rescinds his words at Eddie’s abject reaction (“Don’t you dare.”) looking far too smug— in a delighted sort of way. Preening, in that way Eddie loves.

Their first kiss, as Eddie slides onto Steve’s lap and loops his arms over his shoulders, fingers dancing on those tasty arms, tastes a little bit like coffee. Their mugs grow cold, untouched.

Eddie doesn’t mind — he’s too busy finding out that the rest of their kisses taste like something between sunlight and Steve.

#have; the thought i’ve been having every time i vacuum #i’m one of those bitches who just like pulls out the cord the whole way when i start #and now i say so is steve #just a lil ficlet to get my writing brain up again #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #it’s always just fluff with me innit #<3 #i dunno how active we all still are…… 🧐#guess i’ll find out

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astralnymphh · 1 month

Text

making ellie ur anal princess ౨ৎ

𓆩.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝𓆪: subbottom!ellie, bit of a brat obv, spanking ofc!! rough n' nasty, sorta soft, an iota of lore buildup tbh im not doing all that, some fluff at the end i think, 2.4k+ words . BIG TEXT VERSION . MASTERLIST . DAILY CLICK . IMPORTANT TLOU POST . PALESTINE INFO . ART BY LOTTIE

Wintry brumes swept through Jackson this week had to have carried some alteration of spores, for Ellie to even chew her teeth over the word yes. Bizarre as the idea should strike— "Wanna try it from behind?"— recoiling lips over her ear rim, sunken in a seat behind, and masticating denimed ass with your honed nails; Ellie was all in, blushed to the bone.

Was she at all candid originally? No, that goes without saying. Humdrums and spectrums of explicitness on your part pervade each crack and inept cough of chatter that she starts days beforehand, throat literally cracking whenever the topic emerges on dreary mornings or alive nights. Twiddly of her thumbs or knees, breaks the thick silence on a spitty click— uncalled for finger jabbing you to see if you managed to evade sleep long enough, "Um, so— it really won't hurt if I.. god— this is so fuckin'.. uh, keep.. practicing?"

Practicing. One way to say it. You assured Ellie; "Yeah, unless you're a masochist praying for a death wish." which maybe could've been articulated nicer, but she's your girlfriend, and one of her major ground-breakers for falling smitten with you— your humor. Spankin' her butt the second she spanks yours, (In turn making her the butt of the running: "That's gonna be you on Friday." joke), or nonchalantly slipping the notion that she'd "Look hotter than a V.S model." in a black thong, flopping your head and averting casual gaze to blank spaces undeserving of your eyes as if your comment wouldn't fuck with her brain for the ticking remains of daylight. Just crude humor, and not serious concepts, right?

So beyond the shadow of doubt, of course, when she's bare lain, spreadeagled of her legs caging you in, maraschino face smudged flat to her bed, perky ass in yours and teased by the caphead of your plastic dick— you give all the humor that girl can get, and fourfold.

"Don't need to clench, baby. Your butt isn't going anywhere."

Ellie clenching for her oh so cherished life felt more like she was squeezing the nervous nectar out, pearly bullets brought upon by all that foreplay— or anticipation— bedazzle the creased parts and frowns she knits as you wrap a grip on your lubed length and brush the tip against her asscrack. It prods at her, mentally. Pokes her to open up, literally.

A drawn-out whine, low and wispy, breezes her throat, "Shut up," jaw tensing grit conjointly, "You're such an ass— and don't you dare make an ass joke, I swear." you suppose she attempted to rein in some essence of control with that suppressed tone of threat, cute threat if we're mincing no words, but it's futile. Can't rise above when you're pinned below.

You snicker, contrary hand swerving over and beginning to palm her butt's half-taut half-doughy feel, and yielding it to a pull, "Hmhm." the soft heat of your touch inciting her muscles to relax, just a slight. "Want you to put it in, set the pace for me, mkay?" your voice curls at the end, tilting your face even if she couldn't exactly see.

"Huh.." she releases a breathy chuckle into the mattress, then shimmies onto her ruddy, pockmarked elbows to allow a pivot of her head. "Makin' me do all the work, can't you just do it already?" she gripes, teetering between frustration and impatience, and nearly hissing, "Fuck me already." instead. Fair skin contours along her shoulder blades as she reaches back, little dimples you wanna deepen with presses.

Muggy fingers skid the bends of your knuckles, "Ts' cute when you do." and you slacken your grip, the harness lacing your hips tugging in nooks as she takes you and levels it to her hole, not quite inserting it before another scoff unbinds from her throat.

"Uh-huh, totally." the brat card was the only thing she could play, Ellie being Ellie— plus, fuck you for shoving such a vulnerability into her by eclipsing over her body and deciphering which touches and words made her tick into a, "Yes ma'am." this past week, making her eager to get piped dumb already, even if the thought conflicts with humiliation.

Intrinsic carnality, had her whipped subconsciously. Hot blood always pooled at her cheeks whenever the mere prediction of how this would go down flashed her mind, having to mosey out of her place for a contemplative stroll. Contemplate, contemplate, ooze her eyes into the raw white, winter void, "Fuck." she couldn't help but moan, and throb untouched.

Bands flex across her grasp as she tries pulling you inside, but her body is a bit too.. antsy, taut. "Babe, it's not— mmph, it's not going in. I think we have to—"

"Have to.. what?"

"Fuck!" a rushed moan tears as skin slaps, harsh and bridging on real tears. Of pain, or by pleasure? Ellie can't convey, but her thrust into the spongy bed and toss of head begging to get strung in your fist impart the guess that fuck— you've stretched her deep, bottomed in perfectly.

You let her hole familiarize the girth for a second prior to drawing out and slamming back in, "Uh!" plush globes rippling wherever the skin spilled on top of your hip bones jamming into her. The pressure clamping you in causes a tiny kickback against your folds, chafes your clit underneath. "Fuckin' tight, aren't you?" you're a damn taunt, winching that whisper ardent to her neck. Evilly; wicked as lusty spirits tempt.

"Holy fuck, holy fu— uhh, uh uh, shit!" streams of nasty and broken up groans hike out of her gaped mouth with each pump into her, poor girl having a gouge out with the bedsheets as a means of taking you, "It's so— uhn! So fuckin' bi— I can't, hhn'can't.."

Musing sighs blur into a pitying coo, you reply, "Mhm, you can. Play with 'urself baby."

"Okay, okay—" Ellie unfolds a breathlessness, "—unhh babeee, fuckkk me." and runs it into straught curses as her tatted forearm lodges in the narrow space separating her from drenched cotton, and forks her pussy lips open, rubbing her neglected bud in sloppy strokes. Her teeth bore into her soft, coral lips when her fingers tug just right, so delectably right she could come undone then and there with your added penetration, waning from pain to indeed— pleasure. Diverts her fingers a moment to massage all the dripping slick and lube through her labia 'till it drew pretty webs between, and resumes again, noisily as ever, "Ghnna' cum, guhhh— ohh my goodd." and so nasty; dribbles of thin saliva traversing the swell of her chin.

Goddamn, she's loud. Sure, it's adorable how you pump her into a blathering mess on your cock, but this was unforeseen; surrendering her every moan to get bumped out nonsensically. Because or for you, both possibly, or definitely. "Already? Aww." you pity, muffling your speech to render your voice into thorns of mock disappointment, but in reality, you just quickened your humps. Shown audibly in the squeaks of her bed frame squawking under your combined weights.

Two splotchy flowerbeds of crimson brim at her asscheeks, owing to how intense this had began and trickled into. Hmm, could make it redder if we so wished.

Wish it is.

Quietude holds, and relents in a hard snap; a sting pricks the entirety of your palm crashing down on her butt, watching as the gentle red gains a series of richer rays and hearing the result of said slap punching through her larynx.

"Ughnn!"

Continuing: you slap once, slap twice, times it by thrice, and drive her into a quiver, procuring those wails that have your goosebumps downright rigid as the earth.

"Uh— uh— agh!"

Retiring your hands thriven of ache, they find oasis curving in the shape of her waist. "So good, isn't it Els? Can tell by how loud you're being, my sloppy girl." praised you, silkily sweet upon the lacy edge of slamming your cockhead rough on her walls.

"Yes, yessh. Make me shl— make me.. fuck— make m'your sloppy girl.." past her grace, is a side long since cowered. It's like you molded her brain to abruptly covet the feeling spurting inside her pelvis. From her spine, unto her clit, a ticklish string invokes its fray, flitting her eyes to darker heavens within her skull.

You coast your knees further up until they parked aside her hips, slanting your groin so you could plunge her wider and deeper, ending up with a draw of lubrication landsliding out. Sheer size alone— she's spread her on your strap thickly enough to stimulate certain sweet spots, and god can you tell when you do hit them. Resistance punts the strap base viciously back, dragging a yelp from your lungs. All the squelches coming from her two holes, egged you to an insatiable fucking. Arousal scorched the curves of your cheeks, in love with that sound, infatuated with her pussy, her ass, how ace of a learner she is.

Ellie's calves give upon sensation and hurtle up, rotating her ankle downwards and pushing cinched toes smushed on your bouncing hind— because that infamous pinch now consumes her fattened clit, riding her sleek-glistened fingers doggishly to pursue that heavenly itch. An oncoming recital of whines and growls coats her timbre, "Baby, uhh— babe— m'gonna cum now, dammit.. 'cum all over you— yeah." pleading for you to hasten up in buggy nudges of her heel, butting your ass.

"Oh yeah?" you swirl muse, arching your thumb into the arch her spine slowly welds into, swooning when her head lies atop her ear and a suffused, smiling expression meets your behold.

"Mhm, hmph!" a hitched gulp interrupts her, "You're too fuckin'— mhh, too fuckin good at t-this." inching into a cocky laugh for a blink in time, then swallows it returned to a screw of overwhelm in her facial muscles. She snakes her free paw under yours set on her waist, collecting it and dragging you to grope a handful of her breast, erect nipples flicking stripes due to your humps jostling her.

Weepy eyes bordered by remnants of her past tears cried inflict a bridge between pride and more praise into the pleasure points of your body, and you had no clue before this that she cried. It felt.. gratifying, seeing freckled flesh resemble pebbled waters in spring, ribbons of light warping along her cheeks.

"Those tears for me?" even so, you lower your lips and lap the pellucid stain up, puckering a smooch in its wake.

But you keep ramming a flood out.

The nod she bobs is swift, swifter than her gullet will ever deliver in this state— nor could now, a contort bolting her face inwards subsequent to a mouse-pitched moan leaving the luring lips of your lover bearing pressure into squirting her orgasm all over you, "Oh fuck! Fuck!" she keens and cants her ass on you, jerking swipes over her clit wildly to fufill the ecstasy piping through her pussy. A timid and weak spray noises below— and then came the webs of liquid pearls cascading around her clit, connecting to her fingerprints as she delicately taps the beady bud.

She got thrashy, and clenched your cock in, having bitten off more than she could chew— and it thrilled your cunt to know that; fire catches, and so does the knot twisting your insides. Relish leaves your mouth as you finish base-deep in your girlfriend, imposing her to your skin-bulged grip of her soft breast melting into your palm lines as you cum, "Ohh, yes baby— good girl, good girl.. fuckk." imprinting her mind with how good that felt in your every reaction, forcing that fervor into her existence.

"I fuckin' love you, babe, I love you so fuckin' muh— yes yes yes.." Ellie reciprocates passion received, unto passion given; parting her muck sweat face from the bed and sundering that space in front of yours, suckling your bottom lip into your mouth and sharing the excess teardrops streaked upon her top lips, unlocking to simply just— breathe onto your mouth, straining the last of her orgasm in gradually dwindling moans.

One last peck at her lips charged by a high, you both temper your elation strewn throughout and become aware of the loss for air in your lungs, inhaling the scent of each other done up in exertion. The stillness sustains for a bit, kind of just drunkenly staring 'till one of you broke into a lopsided smirk— no doubt Ellie, and you just had to mingle lips again. So, you slide out carefully with the expected threads of lube following after, and you roam your damp palms away from her ass and chest and branch them on either side of her clammy waist. Her contagious giggles inspire you to mirror the same sounds as you slink behind her and spoon her, smushing the ball of your nose into her hot nape reeking of sweat.

"Was that everything you imagined— or a pain in the ass?" quiped you, quick rolling kisses on her skin, specks of your spit smearing.

Cringe compels her to split lips from you, chuckling, "Really? Right now?" a row of notches digging between her brows, and a shuffle of her legs rub at the filthy wetness layering her groin, "You've got to be kidding me."

"So it was a pain?"

All you get as a response is her shoulder blades swelling as she breathes in, and shies her face away, giving you the hair-in-your-face treatment. "Guess.. after that, 'could go for a couple snacks. I'm hungry."

You squint, "By snacks, do you mean your two-course aftersex meal?" retorting.

"Yeah! That's like, the best thing to do right after." and, her enthusiastic claim isn't all that spoiled. Ellie commonly does it, and she fucking loves it. Hot meals under some wacky or heartfelt discussion, sometimes checking in on the other person, sometimes asking how they felt— but this time, confessions would stay an enigmatic afterthought to ponder about, as really, she fucking loved what you did to her. But that's— forward. Give her a couple days and a couple hours toppled above the usual hour she knocks slumped into somnolence, and she'll admit that. Sappy sweet on the lobe of your ear, indifferent on whether you're wide awake to overhear or not.

"You felt good, uh, by the way. It hurt at first, but, I think my butt's healed from the trauma. Chair isn't uncomfortable to sit in anymore, hmph. Love you, don't ask me about it in the morning. I'll pretend you don't exist. Night, babe."

Something tells me she wants you to do it again.

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konigbabe · 8 months

Text

frosting of my cake

DAY 5 ⇢ Breeding Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader Word count: 1.2k Tags/warnings: no y/n; smut; breeding kink; manhandling; mating press Summary: You want a baby. Satoru is determined to give it to you. [Part of NSFW Gojo Week 2023]. Divider by @benkeibear [source].

event masterlist • masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

"My last, third wish," you put up three fingers, "want a baby."

He looks at you in silence, not quite comprehending the request you've just made. Casual over the breakfast bowl in your hands, hair still all messy and tangled from sleep.

"I was thinking you'd say more of a food play when you said you got the idea when grabbing lunch with Shoko…or another threesome. Both would be acceptable."

But this...this was unexpected. You've surprised him for once, made him speechless.

"Is baby not acceptable," you query, setting your breakfast bowl on the kitchen island.

Satoru shakes his head quickly and puts his breakfast on the table. "No–god no," he moves to stand beside you, one of your hands in both of his. Yes, it might've been sudden, but Satoru can't deny his heart skipped a beat when your words reached his ears – body shaking with anticipation and excitement, mind already running ideas of how you could make a baby.

"It's acceptable. Of course–completely acceptable. Very sudden but that's it."

"So…do you want a baby with me?" you suddenly feel timid. Even though this conversation has been long overdue.

The question seems to linger in the air. You remain still, staring into his face. Waiting.

"I do–yeah," he exhales oppressively, squeezing your hands between his own in a reassuring manner as if he knows exactly what you're thinking without ever having to say a word.

And so you get to work.

You should've seen it in highsight–

Satoru's determination – no matter the cause – has always been unwavering. Perpetual and steadfast, he's committed to his goals regardless of the situation or objective, whether in the jujutsu world or your love life. And if it involved you, Satoru Gojo has become anthropocentric.

–so when those words left your mouth a few days ago, you should've been more aware of the consequences.

It's also the reason there's a calendar on his nightstand, today's date circled in red – ovulation.

And why your cries resonate through the dimly lit bedroom. Sheets sticking to your back, slick with your sweat as Satoru pivots his hips into your quelching cunt. Puffy and swollen; already leaking his release, creating sounds that would make your face burn with shame if it weren't for the pure greed in his hungry eyes..

"Satoru–," his name flows out of your mouth, head fuzzy and unable to comprehend no more, "agh–feels so good."

Satoru's hand settles on the dip of your knee, pushing the leg into your chest more as his chest presses against your legs.

"Fuck," his hips roll into you with fervor devotion, "squeezing me so tight."

Once more you utter his name in a shattered tone. Satoru's response an unsteady thrust of his hips. It makes your back to arch in his grasp, toes curling as he relentlessly batters that sweet spot that sends waves of ecstasy crashing over your senses.

His thumb brushes against your slick, swollen lips, and his kiss is a wild, intoxicating mess. Sloppy. Messy. Unhurried with languid strokes of his tongue against yours. An oasis in the storm; a brief reprieve from the intensity that throbs between your legs. Satoru's hand drifts to your breast, cupping it like a precious gem, as he slows down.

The pressure moves from your breast, trailing along the curve of your waist until it presses against your throbbing clit. Small, filthy noises escape from the back of his throat as his lips meld with yours; a satisfied hum that spreads through your body with each thrust he gives you.

"Ahg–I'm gonna cum, Satoru–"

A guttural moan rolls over his tongue, past your lips. A rumble of approval that makes your stomach flutter with glee.

Your limbs pinned, unable to do anything against the relaxation that overcomes your body. And in this position, even if you could move, you wouldn't. You savor the leisurely gliding thrusts, the euphoria and warmth flooding your veins, the sensation of his body covering yours and the breathless sound of his moans against your lips.

"I love you so much," it's barely above a whisper, lips brushing against your skin as you feel his mouth curve into a smile against your neck. Satoru's name tears from your lips, fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder blades, legs straining painfully as he folds you in half.

It's your third time today and your second time in a row. A record for you. The sheer amount of energy you've expended almost unfathomable. A few minutes of rest to catch your breath is all it takes to has Satoru all hot and bothered again.

His name a constant thread beneath your breathless lips, heart racing so fervently that it threatens to burst from your chest before it's pulled back into your throat.

"Fuck–fuck–love you s'much," he babbles, feeling your pussy flutter around him. helpless to resist the temptation as your slick warmth pulls him in again and again–

The white stars in his eyes have always been mesmerizing but when he's close – about to blow – you've never seen anything more stunning.

–milking him dry when he reaches yet another climax.

(Fourth, you think. But given the passage of time, you wouldn't be surprised if it was even more.)

Satoru waits until you calm down, limp and pliant in his arms, before he lays a palm over your abdomen.

"I think we need more."

Satoru stretches his muscles as he rolls onto his back, his arm extending beneath the bed. Fumbling around in the dim light, searching until his fingers close around a thin, lightweight book. The image of a newborn on the cover already gives away the content, so it comes as no surprise when you read the title: BABY MAKING 101.

With an almost magical swiftness, Satoru produces a pen from somewhere and flips the publication open to its last page. You watch as he scribbles inside for a moment, his actions causing a curious intrigue to build within you until you can't help but ask, "What is that?"

He glances at you, his cheeks still sporting a faint pinkish hue. "A book. It has a list of all the best positions for breeding. Look, "and he turns the open page toward you, revealing a bulleted list of various positions—missionary, reverse cowgirl, wheelbarrow, waterfall, mating press—some of which you've never heard of before.

You raise an eyebrow and notice that some of the positions have a star drawn next to them. "Should I be asking why some of them have a star next to them?"

Satoru grins mischievously, and the tip of his pen clicks against the word "lotus" on the page. "For future reference," he says playfully. "My personal favorites."

You can't help but chuckle before he continues, "It even has tips and research on how to make babies."

"I'm pretty sure I know how babies are made."

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deunmiu-dessie · 16 days

Text

ⅸ▬ ⁽ 𝑔𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃𝓈 ⁾

𝓌𝑜𝓇𝒹 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓃𝓉 ♡︎ : ₂˖₇ₖ ˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ♡︎ : unedited, short, gangbang (??), NSFW, explicit content, teratophilia, goblin/human, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, dubcon, rape/noncon elements, sloppy writing, rushed.

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა ʳᵃʷʳ ⁿᵒᵗᵉˢ : this is literally the shortest one-shot in the entire monster fucker series of mine, and that's because it's rushed. i didn't feel like adding plot at all either. but hey, if it got my coochie wet, it should get your coochie wet. ( feeding ya'll so you guys don't starve waiting on the dragon one-shot )

𝓈𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎 ♡︎: after the death of your brother, it's now your sole duty to provide for you and your mom--- but the woods can be a very scary place.

꒰male!goblins₊⊹ afab!reader꒱

"𝑀other! I'm leaving! "

Silence draped itself over the house, as if time itself had come to a halt. Your mother's voice remained absent, and the absence of anyone bidding you farewell left you with a heavy heart. A gentle sigh escaped your lips and with a tender touch, you closed the weathered wooden door, shouldering the weight of the knapsack upon your back. As your eyes met the foreboding darkness that veiled the forest, a disconcerting feeling settled within the depths of your chest.

In the absence of your brother, who had always been the pillar of support for both of you, you found yourself embracing the role of a caretaker. Your mother, overwhelmed with grief, was unable to fulfill the basic necessities of sustenance and safety. She remained motionless on the bed, her tears flowing ceaselessly, as the days and nights blended together. It was now your turn to rise above the despair and take charge, to bring solace and stability.

With a firm grip on the handle of your short dagger, you fortified your nerves and ventured into the gloomy forest, your knife clenched tightly in a state of restless eagerness. Although the weight of your backpack was as light as a feather, it bore down upon you like an immense burden. Swiftly pivoting, you remained on high alert, ensuring your guard was steadfastly upheld.

Into the heart of the sprawling forest you ventured, your footsteps dancing upon the moss-covered ground, carrying you further away from the gentle glow that had guided your way. The once comforting sense of security dissipated like morning mist, leaving you engulfed in an eerie darkness. The comforting sense of security that had embraced you earlier now vanished into thin air.

The path you had treaded upon vanished, leaving no trace of retreat, yet your determination remained unwavering. You pressed on, driven by the desire to reach the berries nestled amidst the dense foliage, and then eventually find your way back home.

As you ventured deeper into the woods, your brother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting melody. He warned you about the goblins, elusive creatures that supposedly roamed the shadows, waiting for unsuspecting intruders to cross into their domain. Despite the ominous tales, he assured you that they were harmless. The image of a goblin, with its peculiar shade of green and diminutive stature, danced in your imagination. How strange it was to think that such creatures existed in the same world as you, yet remained hidden from your sight.

Ever watchful, your gaze remained fixated upon the intricate engravings adorning the tree trunks. A circular insignia defiantly marked with a decisive strike, served as your guiding beacon. Hopeful, you pressed on, faithfully tracing the trail laid before you.

As the gentle breeze whispered through the foliage, a symphony of rustling leaves enveloped the air. Time seemed to slow down as you cautiously pivoted toward the bush, your trembling hands betraying your anxious state. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, igniting your nerves like a blazing inferno.

Suddenly, a deep growl pierced the tranquility, resonating through the very core of your being. Despite the weapon clutched tightly in your grasp, an inexplicable terror seized your heart, threatening to consume your every thought. In an instant, instinct took over, propelling you to turn swiftly and flee, your nimble form weaving through the dense forest, effortlessly evading the entangling vines and treacherous rocks that dared to impede your escape.

You're unsure of how long you've been running but the searing pain in your lungs prompted you to slow your pace, seeking refuge by leaning against a sturdy tree. Your hand brushed against a peculiar marking, distinct from the familiar circle with a slash. You look up quickly, this time, an imposing 'X' catches your eye, accompanied by a haunting message etched jaggedly below: 'go back'. A shiver runs down your spine as the unsettling awareness of being observed, hunted even, envelopes you.

In a moment of desperation, you tightly shut your eyes, as if trying to shield yourself from the malevolent forces that surrounded you and pray. Whispers of wicked laughter dance through the air, reverberating within the depths of the expansive forest. With a quick swivel, you scan your surroundings, hoping to catch a glimpse of any flicker of life amidst the shadows.

Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through your body, causing you to gasp. Your eyes widened as you felt a sharp object pierce your ankle, momentarily stealing your breath away. In a reflexive response, you released your grip on the dagger, allowing it to fall to the forest floor. Bending down, you gingerly extracted the needle-like object.

Yet, as if a veil of mist had descended upon your eyes, your once clear vision became hazy and indistinct. With a determined shake of your head, you attempted to dispel the fog that had insidiously infiltrated your thoughts. Grasping the dagger once more, you struggled to regain your balance, stumbling clumsily as you rose to your full stature.

Alas, the forest floor seemed to twist and twirl in a dizzying dance before your eyes, causing you to succumb to its disorienting spell. In a sudden and unexpected motion, you found yourself sprawled on the ground, the knife slipping from your grasp and soaring away from your reach.

As the atmosphere grew thick with sinister chuckles, it became evident that you had unwittingly stumbled into the realm of the mischievous Goblins. Overwhelmed by frustration, tears of despair trickled down your cheeks, while your determination urged you to inch closer to the gleaming blade.

Suddenly, a force seized your trembling leg, causing you to cry out in fear. Frantically, you thrashed about, employing erratic kicks in a desperate bid to dislodge the mysterious grip.

It seemed that whatever the Goblins had put on that needle was finally kicking in. Gradually, your valiant resistance waned, your feeble attempts to resist their hold proving futile. A haunting laughter reverberated near your ear, causing you to cautiously shift your gaze towards the sound, tears streaming down your face as you found yourself ensnared by the gaze of large black eyes.

Abruptly, the creature's mouth parted, emitting a series of chitters that harmonized with the surrounding Goblins, creating an otherworldly symphony of communication. You plead with them, your tears cascading down your face and finding solace in the crevices of your hairline. The Goblin closest to you inches forward, its head tilting inquisitively, while its its gaze fixated on the shimmering trails of tears.

The soft murmur of their conversation is the sole sound that penetrates the deafening thump of your heartbeat. You have no clue what they're saying but the delicate caress of a hand on your cheek offers solace as it brushes away the tears that stream down your face.

In total, it appears that there are four figures surrounding you, two positioned near your feet and one on either side. Despite the fact that they are armed, they exhibit a sense of nonchalance, keeping their weapons idle by their sides.

As you begin to relax a bit, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, and you that they perceive you as harmless and decide to leave you here. A gentle warmth caresses your cheek, prompting you to slowly turn towards its source, only to recoil in fear at the looming presence of the monstrous being.

Its mouth, without warning, descends upon yours, planting a sloppy kiss that catches you off guard. Your eyes widen in shock, and you instinctively attempt to pull away, tears welling up in your eyes.

As if in a surreal reverie, a slimy appendage gently prods against your quivering lips, the creature displaying an unsettling indifference toward your futile resistance. Abruptly, a hand gropes your breast, its jagged nails tearing through the delicate fabric.

A gasp escapes your lips, mingling with the invasive kiss, and the intruder's long and thick tongue slides down your throat effortlessly. Paradoxically, this unwelcome intrusion only serves to ignite a fierce determination within you, intensifying your struggle against its grip.

Like a peculiar elixir, the mingling of the goblins' sweet saliva and your own descends upon your flushed cheeks. In that fleeting moment, you relinquish your futile attempts to escape their clutches. Your limbs refuse to obey your commands, and you find yourself overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. After all, if their intention was to end your life, they could easily do so, just like they had done to your brother.

Amidst the haze that clouds your sight, you find solace in the notion that this situation could have been far more dreadful. This kiss, though not your first, stands out among the many others you've experienced from the boys in the village who seem to always disregard your lack of consent. Hell, it might be the drug affecting your thoughts, or perhaps it's the overwhelmingly sweet taste of its saliva, but you don't particularly object to your current state.

Your eyes pop open at the sound of your bindings being ripped, exposing your breasts to the crisp breeze. Your nipples perk up and harden, as if beckoning one of the mischievous creatures to come and taste. Your thighs clench, clit pulsing as a hot mouth descends around your areola, suckling strongly, teeth delicately grazing your tender skin.

A wave of pleasure crashes over you, your moans escape into the Goblin's mouth. Your eyes remain shut, lost in a world where only the sensations matter. The impish creature, with clumsy hands, explores your other breast, teasing and coaxing your nipple.

You realize briefly how aroused you are, how slippery your cunt is ( so much so that it’s almost uncomfortable) and your cheeks flush in embarrassment. It's a secret that you'll hold dear forever, how these monstrous beings awaken a desire within you that far surpasses anything that men from your village could ever offer.

Riiiip

You quickly break away from the kiss, gasping for air, only to find yourself staring at the two Goblins by your feet. Your pants are torn, the hasty stitching coming undone effortlessly. Your knickers, worn and slightly tattered, had not been replaced in some time, but you always made sure to keep them thoroughly clean.

Your head is turned back, and before you can react, those lips are on yours once more. Your heart races as you feel your knickers being tugged down your thighs, your legs pushed up, exposing your dripping cunt.

Your pussy quivers as a rough tongue swipes across the expanse of your slit. It has you grinding wantonly against its eager mouth shamefully. The Goblin seems to like the way you taste because it grabs your thighs and heaves them over its small shoulders, burying its face deeper into your cunt, lapping excessively and for a moment you're seeing stars.

You arch your back, offering yourself up to its insistent mouth, lost in a haze of bliss. It devours you with a fervor that leaves you breathless, each lick sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. At that moment, nothing else exists but the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by pure, unadulterated lust.

Your eyes flutter closed, and the relentless flick of its coarse tongue against your throbbing clit makes you pulse needly. The kiss stops momentarily and you take that time to breathe deeply, chest heaving as the other Goblins take their time suckling on your breast and eating you out.

A wet sensation brushes against your lips, prompting you to extend your tongue and savor the warm, bittersweet taste. With a soft moan escaping your lips, you gaze upwards, feeling your cheeks flush at the sight of the Goblin's cock hovering above your mouth.

The girth is thick but it's not long, a good 4 inches at best. Slowly, it guides itself into your hot mouth, and you savor the intoxicating sweetness of its precum on your eager tastebuds. You obediently bob your head, your cheeks growing even hotter as the Goblin's hands entwine in your hair, dictating the rhythm at its own whims.

A surge of electricity courses through your hips as your clit is slurped on harshly, your eagerness taking over as you gyrate your hips with increasing fervor against the skilled tongue, craving more of its enthralling touch. The sudden, forceful thrust of the other Goblin’s cock down your throat elicits a mixture of sensations, from a deep gag to an overwhelming sense of pleasure and your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around the Goblin's head, as you cum with a soft, high-pitched moan.

With a hint of jealousy, the other one shoves the Goblin away and eagerly plunges his tongue into your throbbing core, chittering at the taste of you. You find yourself utterly vulnerable, incapable of reaching down to push his head away, cunt sensitive and pulsing.

You suddenly heave as its cock hits the back of your throat, bittersweet thick, sticky cum shooting into your mouth. You gulp it down, the viscosity coating your tongue as you eagerly suck on the bulbous tip to get every last drop of it. The Goblin lets out a guttural moan before pulling away, collapsing onto the lush greenery.

A gentle breeze caresses your sensitive nipples as the other mischievous Goblin frees them from its warm mouth, straddling your stomach and pressing your breasts together, sliding its cock in between the valley and thrusting. Your lips part, eagerly enveloping the swollen tip as it reaches your mouth.

The Goblin that had decided to eat you out first had maneuvered itself to your head. With a perverted gaze, it pleasures itself, mesmerized by the sight of its tribe member's pulsating cock disappearing into the velvety embrace of your breasts and then past your fleshy lips.

You let out a squeal of surprise as a painful thickness pushes into you, tears immediately wetting your cheeks at the discomfort. You attempt to move your hips back, trying to get away from the intruding cock. The goblin grabbed the fat of your hips, anchoring itself. Its clumsy fingers dance over your clit, soothing the ache with each teasing stroke. Pushing in until its small balls rest against your plump ass.

And as soon as it noticed your body relaxing, it began to thrust, its head thrown back in wicked laughter, before glancing downwards, captivated by the sight of its green cock disappearing inside you, marveling at how tight your pussy was gripping him. Oblivious to its actions, the Goblin intensified its circular caresses on your clit, overstimulating your bundle of nerves. You cried out, cunt spasming and quivering around its cock, you came once more– leaving a pearlescent ring of cream around the base of him.

The mischievous creature nestled between your breasts finally cums, tiny hips faltering as its seed trickles down your chin and breasts. Succumbing to temptation, you welcome the tip into your mouth, savoring every last drop of. Its taste was nothing short of addictive.

A thick warmth fills your cunt, coating your gummy walls in a sticky fluid. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, you feel so full and sated. The weight of the two Goblins pressed against your skin, sends a shiver down your spine. Darkness creeps in, but you welcome it, too lost in the moment to care, and whatever they gave you hadn't worn off yet.

The moment your eyes fluttered open, a blanket of darkness surrounded you, the gentle chirping of crickets filling your ears and the icy touch of the night air jolting you awake. Sitting upright, you realized you were situated at the forest's edge, your cozy dwelling just a short distance away.

Gradually adjusting to the lack of light, you discovered an array of food spread out before you, your hunger pangs intensifying as your stomach rumbled. Without hesitation, you indulged in the succulent berries, pondering whether it was all a mere dream. However, the lingering sensation of the cold breeze caressing your exposed nipples and the stickiness clinging to your thighs contradicted that notion.

Gathering as much food as you could carry, you stood up and made a swift exit, calling out for your mother. You looked behind you, the feeling of being watched overwhelming. Tomorrow, you vowed to return and express your gratitude to those unseen eyes.

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elvirable · 7 months

Text

Ambrosia (Act 1)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 2k | status: ongoing themes/tags: vaginal sex, feelings realization, denial of feelings, light smut.. for now, and a whole lotta angst, will add more smut tho in the next chapters, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act ———–

Astarion would never tell you, though - it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, starting with the day he met you. *will update description at some point. ———– A/N: i wrote this as a peek into Astarion's mind throughout Act 1. plan to continue as i progress throughout the game. lmk what you think and if you like this style!

-------

Grief had a penchant for wearing different masks.

Phantom faces that slithered through shadows, white-hot wrath that clawed at the throat, an endless gnawing that swallowed one whole: all faces of a primordial monster that had existed before time itself.

Astarion knew all this.

He had met them all – intimate with its simplest form, a cold polarizing solitude; a loyal companion for two centuries, teaching him to lick his wounds with malice. Others had taken everything from him, or they were too weak to lift a meaningful finger. It took several lifetimes to finally mend his precious pride back together. Why should he practice mercy when no one had shown him any?

And by some stroke of luck, he was free – at least for now. Opportunity had fallen before his feet; he could chase after power, clutch revenge in his pale fingers, walk amongst the sun. Red eyes clung to the light glimmering across the water and wavering leaves. A desperate urge pulsed up his spine, insisting he memorize each saturated detail before it faded away like the most ethereal dream. The exhilaration rose wildly before plummeting to the pits of his stomach.

Huh, that was odd. It had never dawned on him that grief could also bloom in the slow, golden sunlight.

Languid beams washed against his flesh and through the faint hem of his shirt. Every fiber of his skin ached, dull and shallow, at the sacred warmth that had been a stranger for so long. He felt this haunted and holy gift – the vigor of life from each ray of light running over his fair face. Reunited once again, like long-lost lovers.

It was the sound of boots thudding against dirt that pulled him back into the world, on the ravaged beachfront.

With straight posture, a hollow smile painted itself across his lips. ==

“You have your mother’s eyes, you know.”

No, he didn’t know.

Quiet was this small voice that, for some odd reason, had grasped onto his conscience the night he died. It had sung loud in the beginning, but now it was just a whisper. Everything else had reduced to dust, long-buried beneath the cold earth.

But if he could conjure the ghost of his mother, he couldn’t be bothered to. Astarion envisioned a sharp tsk , a scowl dripping with disgust if she could see the creature he was today: a thrall to his own hedonistic desires, wielding manipulation and seduction as an instrument. A vampire , taking solace amongst the shadows and draining the life around him.

Maybe he was the same, just calloused and rearranged by the fate spun for him.

However, there was no need to exhume the past. It proved futile anyway; he couldn’t even recall the previous hue of his eyes, much less run his hands over his reflection. The only thing worthy of concern was survival. Memories had been shrouded by the same pivotal virtue, the one that carved the habit to become shapeless – to cater to every impulse and whim of those who could serve useful. Those who could protect him, at least for the time being.

And that was exactly what he tried with you, as his breath was inches from your slender neck and your eyes widened in hazy alarm, catching him by surprise.

“Shit.”

You scuttered to your feet in the frantic silence, dozens of excuses fluttering to Astarion’s tongue. The fatigue of bloodthirst hindered his wit, but he raised his palms in reservation.

He had already taken note of your misleading presence – you were small, but heavens , would you put up a fight. Other companions had already turned towards you for guidance the past few days, and you were carved with a beauty that could intimidate. Though, there were cracks underneath that facade – ones with darkness in between.

Peering into these cracks was his only outlet to earn your trust; after all, it was paramount for survival.

“I – I wasn’t going to hurt you,” exasperated breaths pushed from his throat. “I just needed, well.. blood.”

Basked in the dim firelight, your wary gaze studied him for what he really was: a vampire, a slave to sanguine hunger. He caught the stutter in your furrowed brows before they eased. Smug delight settled in his nerves when you, although with apprehension, allowed him to taste you.

Astarion eagerly obliged, immediately losing himself in the euphoria– the sweet vigor of your blood, how silky and rich. A low hum vibrated in his throat, and he barely registered when your palms pushed his broad weight off of you. Lush satisfaction that quenched his blood-thirst still coursed through him like a stimulant, but he still caught the tail-end of your groan.

“I don’t care that you’re a vampire. Just –,” you paused briefly to reel from your daze. “We’re all a team now, so I have to have some trust in you. Just ask next time.”

He felt happy, more alive – not only from the fresh blood still lingering on his tongue, but that you trusted him. Maybe not entirely, but the anchor had already been dropped; one step closer to wrapping you around his finger, even if you weren’t entirely flexible. He could feel it in your gaze, in the little quivers that rolled through you while his fangs sunk into your soft skin.

Once you had returned to sleep and his frenzied nerves quelled, he mulled over your parting words. You weren’t phased’ that he was a vampire, instead placing emphasis on trust. You were full of surprises – especially when the entire world met him with repulse.

Something that had been fossilized inside him tremored, as if it began to thaw. ==

There was a thin chill in the evening air, in the way nature prepares for a new season. And he hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you – frankly, he couldn’t get enough of you; that was the issue.

You plagued his thoughts like a helpless addiction, better yet like a mirror; one he had repeatedly peered into, struggling to find the right angle and when he did – he was left staring at you.

Those careful eyes – a mocking reminder of everything he could have been. So different, so resilient, so disgustingly kind.

Since the day he laid eyes on you, he was the first to glimpse at your secret hidden in plain sight. Your habit of hiding yourself from everyone you came across, retreating behind stone-bared walls and tailoring a facade just enough to avoid drawing attention. Reserved lips were a mere confirmation you sealed away a vault of grief that you didn’t want – or need – clumsy, temporary hands to pry open.

That discreet resolve particularly made you the sour dagger twisting between his ribs. Grief had been your companion as well, but its mark never trickled from anywhere else – not a warbled voice or frustrated bout. It was only noticeable through a fleeting glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, he had made this medley of rage and anguish his armor. It had fused to skin, and he no longer knew how to scrape it off. Astarion dedicated decades to cursing the Gods. You ignored them.

He knew he should despise you and eagerly await the day he could shatter this mirror you were – but all bitterness dissolved in your presence. You had become his wonderfully terrible affliction; withdrawals could damn near kill him if they were to happen.

Ribbons unraveled from his chest with each conversation, whether it pertained to the graveness of the journey or a simple ‘good morning’ from your lips. Strange yet blissful, he could feel himself surrendering every bitter pang for the peculiar sensation of… comfort .

Once laced with such harshness, his mind eased with familiarity. An interesting chord of harmony, he thought, the two of you. From the start of the journey until now, you shared an enriching balance. He would encourage you to be more outspoken, while you stirred him to be authentic and soft – even if you weren’t aware.

You were stable like bedrock; never once expecting to be selfless or pious, instead only demanded transparency – at least to the extent he was willing to concede. Aside from the occasional brow-raise or retort, judgment never twisted your face. Respect was a new sensation to him, as you gave him yours.

This dynamic, this balance ; it was irresistibly and invariably warm.

The rendezvous sort of just fell into habit.

Every night he would savor the ambrosia from your neck, and one evening tension gave way to carnal desire. Whether it was a simple cathartic release or not, he didn’t care; tender moments bathed in amber firelight or the hush of the night had always left him craving more.

“You’re such a tease .”

You’d whisper those words every so often those sacred nights, and a rakish grin would slide across his face without fail. Lust gripped him, but never once weaved with routine; the way your legs parted to invite him in left Astarion with an insatiable urge to indulge in everything you were willing to give him. He could spend the entire evening with his head between your thighs, cold hands steadying your quivering legs as his tongue lured you to new heights of pleasure – giving you exactly what you needed.

When he was with you – skin pressed together, desperate hums like honey – he began to relish in taking things slow.

He preferred the nights where your bare body writhed beneath him and melted against his, while he eagerly coaxed wispy whines from your lips. No matter how wet and ready you were, his girth always met resistance as he parted your warm, sensitive walls. Your skin buzzed at the sensation of his cock splitting you open, like every time was the first you’ve been touched.

Desire laced every word he whispered into the curve of your neck, each encouraging and soft. His pace was slow, pushing into the depth of your core, buried deep enough to kiss your cervix with each thrust. Low, guttural grunts left his throat as your body’s natural instinct clenched around his throbbing cock.

Despite his centuries of experience, he found himself struggling to restrain from succumbing to the all-consuming euphoria of it all: your lashes wet from your tears, precious gasps warm against his skin, the desirous ache to fuck you the way that pretty face beckoned to be fucked.

The unbridled intimacy – which felt so real and tender was enough to send him over the edge. His veins hummed with yearning as he drank in the vision beneath him; your skin flushed, shaky whines that sung his name as he pushed you to pleasure. And when you wrapped your legs to press him deeper – he surrendered to the white-hot bliss.

Although Astarion would never tell a soul, his most treasured moments were spent after desperate breaths calmed and the entire world stilled.

It was never long before you lulled into sleep, and your weight slacked against his broad chest. He lingered over each detail with softer eyes; the gentle curl of your lashes, a freckle he had missed the last time. Peace graced such beautiful features, ones that were usually still with resolve. There had never been another face quite like yours in the two centuries he had lurked amongst the earth.

Your chest rose and fell slowly before you would eventually fidget, still deep in slumber, to slink an arm over his waist. His gentle hand grasped the one that rested against his chest, careful not to stir you, as he ran his fingers over your silk skin. Such delicate hands, he mused, that had to grapple their way through life.

He pressed a silent kiss against the back of your palm before laying it back on his chest.

In the silence, something washed over him – that rousing feeling that he never knew quite what to make of.

His eyes swept once more to watch the shuffle of your face, buried now against his side. Your hazy sighs warmed his bare skin. Astarion could almost laugh, imagining your face reddening if he ever shared how affectionate you were in your sleep.

Though he would never tell you – it was his little secret, one he hid away just for himself.

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eilidh-eternal · 4 months

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Nasty Man™️ Johnny MacTavish would cross every line and break every rule of a lap dance.

He'd see you from across the club and is already plotting ways to get you alone in one of the private rooms so he can have his hands all over you and help you “relax” 🥴

he's a lil’ creep :)

(18+ MDNI, dub-con/non-con themes)

You can’t even remember why you’re here.

It’s loud, bass thumping in the hollow of your chest, the warmth of writhing bodies weighs heavy in the air, and flashing lights seem to follow your eyes everywhere you look without reprieve. That’s why you don’t see him, don’t notice him staring at you from across the club, and now your friends are whistling and whooping at the dark stranger climbing the steps into your alcove.

“This is the guy I told you about,” Kari leans over to whisper-shout, cupping a hand in a feeble attempt to speak over the music pouring out of the speakers overhead.

Ah, that’s right. Kari wanted to see if the dancer from the near constant stream of videos she inundates the group chat with is here tonight. Seems tonight is her lucky night, because when he steps into your circle he pivots towards the two of you, long legs rippling the slash of cut muscle and tanned skin on display beneath ripped jeans slung low on his hips, obliques bunching and flexing with the subtle tilt of his hips with each measured step. Swaggering.

And he comes to a halt—right in front of you. It’s a long way up, craning your neck at an awkward angle to look up at the silhouette of him against strobe and colorful spotlights. You don’t know what you were expecting. The black leather harness straining over his chest and distressed jeans feel fairly standard, as does his physique and rugged handsomeness, but the warmth that ripples off his body feels like a riptide instead of the languid roll of lapping waves, dragging you under and filling your lungs with the scent of sea spray and brine, the musk of his sweat mixed with whatever he’s oiled his skin with.

“Ooooo girl!” Kari grips your arm, acrylic nails scratching over your skin, and it pulls you out of your dumbfounded stupor enough for you to register the hand he’s holding out to you. “If you don’t go, I will!”

Go? With him? Where would we-

“Ye look a bit overwhelmed, lass. Think somethin’ more… private, might be your style.”

Oh…

Kari snakes her arm between your back and the tufted faux leather of the bench and bodily pushes you forward to the edge of your seat, towards his outstretched hand, and you’re caught wholly off guard when gentle fingers hook under your chin, tipping your head back at an uncomfortable angle to meet his gaze.

The brightest blue of a searing flame feels gelid in comparison to the heat that dances and flickers in his eyes, and they feel sharp as knives against your skin, boring into you, slicing through layers of trepidation and apprehension to get to the core of you.

“Promise ye wilnae regret it.” The pad of his thumb brushes across your lower lip, a slow, exploratory movement that sends a shudder trickling down your spine.

Goading shouts of ‘Go!’ and ‘Get some, girl!’ permeate the hazy bubble you’re floating in with him, echoing and bouncing off of flimsy boundaries.

“I- I don’t know… You should take Kari, she-” You’re silenced by the press of his thumb to your lips again, mouth still parted on half-spoken words, and you can feel the swipe of his flesh across the front of your teeth.

“-She’s not the one who needs help relaxin’. You are,” he finishes for you, and it sounds more like a command than an observation. The fingers under your chin tug upwards, straining the muscles of your neck, and you lift subconsciously from your seat to ease the tension. He takes advantage of this and slots a hand under your arm, pulls you up and firmly against him, and turns your head to the side to whisper low in your ear, “I’ll take good care of ye, lass. Dinnae need to worry.”

There’s a collective gasp from the group around you, excited squeals and peals of laughter that ring out over the music. ‘Go!’ they all chant in a cult-like mantra. Go to the private room with the handsome stranger.

Go to the private room where the lights don’t hurt your eyes and the music isn’t so loud.

His hand still holds your face, cups your jaw to draw your attention back to him, and the hand on your ribs has drifted down to your waist, thumb rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress.

“Ok…” you cede, voice a meek whisper and eyes darting away from his to settle on his lips, feeling too scrutinized, laid bare, under their watchfulness.

It shouldn’t be possible but his smile is somehow brighter than the flashing lights, disorienting enough that you blink a few times until the spots across your vision fade. The hand at your waist slides easily around you, tucking you into his side as he leads you away from the alcove, through throngs of patrons and dancers towards the roped off rooms at the back of the club with velvet lined walls and thick curtains across each doorway.

He guides you down onto the sofa that wraps around the entirety of the room, downy upholstery tickling the back of your legs as he draws the curtain closed, and your eyes mimic the motion with a gentle sigh as you sink into the softness that dampens the sound beyond the room, filters out the harsh light in favor dim ambiance.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you just need to sit here for a moment away from…. Well, away from all of it. Take a moment, and just-

“Och, look at ye… just need a bit of quiet, hm?” The low purr of his voice right in front of you causes you to jolt, eyes snapping open to find him knelt down at eye level with you, arms braced against the sofa on either side of your knees.

You start to apologize but he shakes his head, one big hand sliding over your knee in a soothing gesture.

“None of that. Here to help ye relax, bonnie.” His hand drifts higher up your leg, strong fingers kneading at the supple flesh hidden beneath ruched fabric, and you think distantly that this feels more intimate than a private dance should. “Close those pretty eyes and just focus on the way it feels. Can ye do that for me?”

In the dim lighting the warmth in his eyes blazes bright and fervent with an eager insistence, an illuminating display of hunger and want that burns through your nerves like wildfire.

You take a deep, steadying breath and let your eyes fall closed once more, and the answering growl that rumbles in his chest in response to your submission pools unbidden warmth between your legs.

“Good girl, so good for me. Gonnae take such good care of ye.” Something warm and hard presses against your legs, and before you have time to think about how good that feels, both of his hands find the back of your knees and pull. They force your knees apart, yank you forward to the edge of your seat so that he’s knelt between your legs.

He clicks his tongue at the flutter of your lashes, eyes trying to open and make sense of the jarring repositioning of your lower extremities, and says, “‘S okay, keep ‘em closed. Just need t’ get a bit closer.” It is a dance afterall. But still, the notion that something about it isn’t quite what it should be festers at the far reaches of your mind.

“Give me yer hands.” It’s softer this time, his voice when he makes the request, but the demand and expectation there is clear–he’s leading, and you’re following. With tentative movements you reach out blindly in front of you until you feel the warmth of his hands enveloping and guiding yours, placing them against something rough that scratches between your palms.

His face, you realize, as your thumb brushes over the stubble on his jaw, tracing the strong line of it from his chin up to his ear. The hair is short there too, shorn close to his scalp, but it feels softer, pleasant against your fingertips. He hums, whether in approval or simply in reaction to your clumsy exploration you can’t decipher, and you can feel the way it vibrates in his throat against your hand lingering on his jaw.

Lost in the new sensation of him you don’t immediately realize where his hands have settled on you, palms rough with callouses gliding over exposed skin and up the expanse of your thighs to capture your hips, long fingers only just grazing your rear. He pulls you closer, closer to the edge, and your arms instinctively wrap around his shoulders, seeking balance and support from the broad expanse of them.

With his hands splayed across your ribs on either side he presses his face into your neck, dragging his nose up towards your jaw and breathing in long and deep, the shuddering exhale of his breath zapping against your sensitive skin in tantalizing currents.

“Had my eyes on ye all night,” he murmurs, and you can feel the brush of his lips against skin that's begun to warm beneath his touch.

Odd, you think, for a patron to catch the eye of a dancer. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? A lot of this should be happening inversely, or perhaps not at all. It feels like a violation of the rules, a breach in etiquette, to have so much contact with him–to be touching him.

“Need to know, pretty thing. Need to know… what ye taste like.” He’s panting when he voices that particular desire, voice rough and breathless, and it feels funny that he should be the one short of breath when you haven’t taken one since he put his hands on you, still holding onto the dwindling supply of air and withering sense of propriety.

This… this should not be happening, you think as he tips you back, big hands pushing you down onto the couch again and this time your eyes do more than flutter, opening wide as your back meets the cushion beneath you.

“Sir, I- this isn’t what-”

“I ken it’s not what ye thought it would be, bonnie. Doesnae change the fact that it’s what ye need,” he cuts you off, gruff and adamant in his assessment of you.

What you need? You don’t need this. The privacy is nice, yes, and he’s certainly a welcome sight, but this isn’t a dance. This isn’t what you agreed to.

He must be able to see your confusion, the warring thoughts in your mind written on your face as plainly as a line drawn on a battlefield. How your mind struggles to reconcile the sudden shift. How that line in sand has been trampled beyond recognition and you don't know which side of it you're standing on anymore. He has to know because he laughs, a warm flutter of breath ticking across your inner thighs.

The gasp that tears from your lungs when his teeth sink into the meat of your thigh, fanning dormant embers of desire you're only now becoming aware of, only seems to amuse him further. Makes his lips, pulled apart in a grin, vibrate against your skin before biting you again. You try to pull away from him but he curls a massive arm around your leg, holding you firmly in place for his tongue to lave over the imprint of his teeth on your skin.

“Just as sweet as she looks,” he remarks, more to himself than you, and his hands push the fabric of your dress up past your hips. You squirm in his grasp but he just wraps the other arm around you and coos sweet sounds between your legs, hooks them over his shoulders and clamps his hands around your hips once more. “Jus’ need some attention, hm? Poor girl, cannae breathe with these, can ye?”

Is he… talking to your pussy?

You get your answer when you feel the hot press of his mouth over the thin scrap of lace.

What the fuck is happening?

Not normal. This is not normal. This should not be happening.

It makes your head spin, the steady stream of realization that trickles in through the haze of… You don’t want to admit what you’re feeling. Don’t want to admit that amidst your panic and confusion, how suddenly the situation escalated, you never said no.

You aren’t saying no. You should be saying no.

“Such a pretty wee cunt,” he lilts as a hand trails down and pulls your panties to the side, revealing the most intimate part of you to him.

You can feel your body's betrayal of your emotions, the cooling sensation of his breath against the slick gathering between your thighs. It sends tumultuous sparks of pleasure up your spine and makes your fingers flex against the couch beneath you, seeking purchase and finding none. He coos at this, digs his fingers into your hips and presses his lips to your folds like he’s kissing your mouth, tongue flicking out to taste your slick and teeth nipping at the soft flesh.

It’s maddening how good it feels, how tormented you are about even remotely liking it. He’s taken you here under false pretense and forced himself upon you. You should be angry with him. But it's hard to separate the confusion from the adrenaline, the fear from the lust that addles your senses.

“Ye’re thinkin’ too much. Relax.” His voice is rough, pitched low and graveled by his own desire, and he digs his thumbs into your hip flexors, smoothing out the muscles wrought with tension. “‘S’posed to feel good, bonnie. Let me take care of ye, work ye over how ye need.”

You open your mouth to protest, to say someone might hear, might walk in and see you, separated by only a curtain from the rest of the club. The words die on your tongue when he cards his through your silken folds in one broad stroke, warm and wet and so fucking good, illiciting a string of breathy moans in place of your objections. A growl of assent rumbles in his chest again, rocking through you in wicked bolts, nerves firing in tandem with the movements of his tongue lapping at your entrance like a man starved.

Despite how your mind still kicks and thrashes, desperate to pull your head above water and think clearly, your body can't help its response to him, surrendering to the undertow that pulls you further into the hazy depths of pleasure with each fervent swipe of his tongue.

“Tha’s it sweet girl, doin so good.” He has no right, none at all, to make you feel this way. Warm and wanting, squirming closer, trying to find more friction. He doesn’t deserve the sniveling whimpers that crawl up your throat, the hands that blindly seek the shock of messy hair to pull him closer and beg for more.

And he gives it to you, focuses his attention on your aching bundle of nerves in tight, precise circles, coaxing you closer to the swell that’s building at the base of your spine.

“Gonnae come for me?” His teeth wrap around your clit and you keen, cry out wantonly at the sudden sharpness of the sensation, the additional pressure, and a litany of yes’s flows forth from lips parted on a moan.

He’s relentless in his pursuit of your climax. Desperate, even, to feel your body go taut with pleasure, pressing his face so far between your legs you wonder if he can even breathe. Each flick of his tongue, scrape of his teeth, pushing you closer and closer until the tension breaks, a cresting wave of pleasure crashing over you and drowning your senses in liquid fire.

He works you to the point of overstimulation, until the drag of his tongue feels like a blade against your skin and your thighs burn from the scrape of his stubble. Only then, does he give you a reprieve, panting when he pulls back and peppers kisses over the raw skin.

“Such a good girl, did so well for me. Knew ye’d be good for me, bonnie.” He gathers you up, rights your undergarments and pulls your skirt back down your thighs before he helps you sit up, and his hand feels warm against your cheek, thumb swiping away the mascara running in inky trails down your face. “Gonna get ye some water, dinnae move,” he murmurs against your temple, lips pressed against your skin in a comparatively chaste kiss before all that warmth pulls away and you're left on your own.

You couldn’t go anywhere if you wanted to, knees too weak to even think about moving off the couch, lest you look like a wobbling faun stumbling back to your friends. But when the curtain opens, bright light from a flashlight shining into your eyes, you panic, eyes closing against the offending light and you push up onto your feet. You don’t stay up very long, however, as a wave of dizziness crashes into you full-force, sending you back down onto the couch in a clumsy heap.

“Oh, shit- are you alright? Hey,” The man in front of you crouches down, hands on your shoulders to hold you upright. He has a badge on his shirt. Security. “Do you know where you are?”

You rattle off the name of the club and some of the worry bunching his brows lessens.

“Have you had anything to drink?”

“He’s getting me water.”

“He? Your boyfriend?

“The dancer, his name-” You never did get his name, from him or Kari. “-he has a… a harness? And jeans. I think he has a mohawk too.” There's a funny look on his face now, like he doesn’t really believe you.

“Honey, we don’t have any dancers here tonight that look like that.”

��️Eilidh-Eternal.2024 ~ The intellectual property of Eilidh-Eternal is not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

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yunhoszn · 2 months

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save a horse, ride a cowboy

PAIRING jeong yunho x f!reader

WORD COUNT 12.25k

GENRES fluff﹒angst﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, reader is a city girl but i tried not using too many gendered terms, cowboy!yunho RAHHHHH, mentions of food, reader has a boyfriend for most of the fic (an oc) but there’s no real infidelity, reader embarrasses themselves on what i’d say is a few occasions too many, yunho is down bad, masturbation (m! and brief f! receiving), lowkey voyeurism, a really bad dad joke, horse riding scene bc i feel that’s pivotal for a cowboy fic, lots and lots of kissing, marking, teasing, vaginal fingering x2, oral sex (f! receiving) x2, multiple orgasms, very slight edging, praise, pet names (baby, babe, and princess oops), unprotected sex (BE SAFE PLS I BEG), cowgirl position, pull out method, missionary position, creampie lol, ending is cute but also kinda up for interpretation? i guess <3

SUMMARY when your grandparents decided to retire and take a summer’s long vacation in celebration, they leave their house in your care. at least you don’t have to worry about feeding the farm animals. but you do have to worry about the tall, handsome cowboy who does.

MORE AND SHE’S DONE oh my god, this fic actually pulled so much out of me i think i was the one seeing stars by the end.. 😭 but i’m so proud of it and the goals i tried meeting while writing. first of all the length??? insane for me. i can hardly get myself to write anything longer thank 5k 😞 THATS ENOUGH ABOUT ME THO,,, this fic was heavily inspired by the django performance if u couldn’t tell by the banner 😝 and i’d first like to thank the academy aka @kimsohn for encouraging me to write this and fueling my delusions ilysm maya <3 i’d also like to give a huge thank u to @bro-atz TYSM FOR BETAING AND HELPING WITH SCENES BRO ur my life saver fr <3 PLS PLS PLS REBLOG IF U ENJOYED!!

Growing up, you weren’t the biggest fan of trips to your grandparents’ farm in the rural countryside.

You were born in a big city, full of all the glitz and glam. There were bright lights that lit the skyline at night, distracting from the stars that illuminated above. The wide open space was blocked by high towers and large skyscrapers. You were accustomed to the sound of bustling pedestrians and the obnoxious honking of cars in the streets. There was seldom an evening of complete silence.

Everything was so tightly packed together, within walking distance if you didn’t feel like hopping in a car for a fifteen minute drive. You appreciated the insanity of the train station in the mornings before school, the metro so busy with students and working class individuals. You came into contact with numerous strangers throughout your day to day life.

However, every summer until you were a senior in high school was a different story.

Your parents wanted to keep you humble, you supposed, shipping you off to your grandparents’ for three months. Living in the city kept people too sheltered, too primped and polished for the real world. They wanted you to have that exposure, to experience what it was like to live without the fanciness of urbanization. The nine months out of the year that you spent in the city stunted that exposure, though.

When you’d arrive at their farm, luggage stacked like you were taking a trip to London or Paris, you felt like a glorified version of Regina George. Maybe Blair Waldorf. Elle Woods? You weren’t even rich like that. Your parents were nice, middle class people. There was just something about cow manure and the fear of stepping on a freshly laid egg that made it difficult to adjust to the setting.

It was most likely your stubbornness throughout your childhood that held you back even as you got older and more educated. You thought after graduating high school, the three-months-long “retreat” would come to an end. You’d only need to visit when necessary, maybe a week max. And that was true to an extent. During your university years, you only visited the farm around once a year. You were too consumed with school to even go home sometimes.

And then your grandparents decided to retire.

Their farm had supplied the town over with produce and other home-grown items for as long as you could remember. But they were getting older and no one in the family was willing to inherit the farm or its responsibilities. In celebration of their retirement, they planned a grand vacation to visit multiple countries. Their itinerary spanned an entire summer, just like your trips to the farm when you were younger.

Because you were the only one familiar enough with the area, they enlisted you to housesit while they were gone. You tried to get out of it, but they didn’t trust anyone else as much as you, despite your convictions about country life. So you reluctantly agreed, packing up your things to prepare for another grueling summer at the farm one last time.

But there was a bit of a setback.

”What do you mean someone’s living in the farmhouse behind their house?” You shriek into the receiver, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear as you zip up your final bag. Your mom sighs on the other end.

”Your grandma just only now told me, apparently it slipped her mind,” you can hear the sympathy in her tone. “He’s this boy who grew up in the town and he’s gonna take over the farm for them on the condition that they still live on the property. She said he shouldn’t get in your way and he’s expecting your presence. You’ll only see him if you ever actually go out to the farm and when he brings groceries to the house.”

”Great. Another thing I didn’t sign up for.” You mutter, giving your bedroom a once over to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. “Is there anything else I should know before I get there, like a secret pet or maybe a family living in the attic?”

”Watch the attitude, Y/N,” she warns, and you shut up immediately. “Look, I know this isn’t ideal. You’re a grown adult and you’d rather spend your summer going out with your friends, but you already told your grandparents you would do this for them. It’ll be over before you know it.”

You sigh, nodding even though she can’t see it. At least you didn’t have to worry about caring for their farm animals. It was time to think of this as a staycation rather than torture. Sure, your friends were going to be living it up in the Bahamas for a week and your boyfriend was going to be here while you were surrounded by nothing but flat landscape for acres.

Perhaps it was good for you that there would be someone else on the property. You might’ve started to feel scared being alone in the middle of nowhere for so long. Though, your boyfriend probably won’t be the biggest fan of you staying within the vicinity of another man for three months. You’d just deal with that later.

The drive to your grandparents’ farm is actually more peaceful than anything else. Driving for long periods of time wasn’t your favorite thing to do, but doing it by yourself with nothing but your music filling your ears was a sort of therapy. It allowed you to come to terms with your fate for the summer and what it could entail, even if it wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Seeing the lush greenery for miles upon miles as you neared their home evoked a sense of tranquility within you. If you kept a positive outlook on your situation, you would make it through these next few months unscathed and your sanity still intact. Maybe you despised the wide open space for years when you were a kid, but now that you’re an adult, you think you could learn to appreciate it and its beauty.

As long as the guy living in the farmhouse didn’t bother you like your grandmother said, everything would be—

Oh.

You pull up in front of the house, already thrown for a loop by the tall, very handsome stranger walking his dog back from the mailbox. His dark hair obscured his eyes, a bandana tied around his neck to match with the one hanging off the Border Collie’s collar. The two turn around at the sound of your engine, stopping in their tracks once you’ve parked.

He brings a hand up to shield the sun from his eyes, watching cautiously as you park slowly. You don’t know why you’re so anxious, it’s not like you’ll be interacting with him much during your stay anyways. There’s something about his slender figure and the fact that he was so clearly dedicated to what he does upon first glance that it makes you feel shy. You suck in a sharp breath before deciding to exit your vehicle, wiping clammy palms on your denim shorts. You’re starting to regret not dressing a little cuter, a little more presentable.

His features soften upon recognizing you, the pretty granddaughter that your grandparents showed him prior to leaving for their trip. The hand sheltering his face falls to his side and he gives you a warm smile, somehow warmer and brighter than the sweltering summer sun. You’d always been told not to talk to strangers, to keep your distance for your own safety, but you can’t help mirroring his expression with a small wave.

“H-Hi,” your voice wobbles and you kind of want to die just a bit. “I’m Y/N. My grandparents mentioned you lived in the farmhouse out back, but didn’t give me a name or face to expect.”

He extends his arm out and you shake his hand, albeit slightly nervously. His eyes squint when he glances between you and his dog. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’m Yunho, and this is Yeoreum.”

The name is fitting for the red and white colored Border Collie, her tongue sticking out as she stares up at you with big eyes that almost resemble her owner’s. You bend down to pet her, patting the soft tufts of fur on her head and appreciating her licks of excitement. Yunho laughs, whistling to catch her attention.

“Yunho and Yeoreum,” you repeat, a tiny grin on your face. “Befitting. Does she come with the property?”

“Unfortunately, no. She’s spoken for,” he teases, a pout on his features. “But she can visit whenever you’d like. Jokes aside, did you need any help moving stuff into the house?”

”That would be great, actually!” You scratch the back of your neck, lips pursing. Yunho waits for you to unlock the trunk of your car and places Yeoreum’s leash in your possession, making quick work transporting your bags inside. What was just supposed to be some light assistance, has evidently become him doing everything on his own while you stand and look pretty with his dog.

You didn’t bring too much with you since you didn’t have plans to leave while you were housesitting and your grandparents weren’t so old fashioned that they didn’t have a washing machine. Still, you felt useless allowing this stranger you’d just met to do all this manual labor on your behalf.

”Does he always do this?” You murmur to the Border Collie, falling to a seat on the lowest front porch step. She doesn’t give you a response (not that you expected her to), but pants happily in lieu of one, craning her head so you can scratch the spot behind her ear.

“You’re a guest, it’s just good hospitality for me to help.” Yunho says as he comes out of the house, stationing himself in front of you with his hands on his hips, thumbs in his belt loops.

“There’s a difference between helping and doing the work yourself. You’re just being modest,” you push yourself up to hand him Yeoreum’s leash. “But thank you anyway, that was really nice. I’m so tired from driving up here, so I think I would’ve collapsed doing all that back and forth.”

”You should go rest,” he glances at the house behind you. “There’s a whole three months of farm life ahead of you, so don’t wear your pretty little self out just yet.”

Yunho salutes to you and takes his leave, walking around your grandparents’ house toward what you assume is the farmhouse. Your eyes are wide and your cheeks feel hot, and you’re well aware that it’s not because of the summer heat. Your fingers clutch at the material of your t-shirt and you shake it to fan yourself.

It seemed like you were in for a bumpy ride these next few months. But like you reiterated prior to arriving, everything would be just fine so long as you and farm boy went your separate routes and lived your separate lives.

Yeah. Things would be alright. You hope.

It’s a week into your stay on your grandparents’ farm when you bump into Yunho again.

You’re toweling your neck after getting out of the shower, heading into the kitchen to make yourself another bowl of cereal for breakfast. So far the only downside has been your inability to cook a decent meal. Takeout or your boyfriend sleeping over were usually your saving grace, but without having either of those options, you’ve stuck to microwaveable things.

The sight of Yunho unloading groceries onto the counter has you squealing and nearly jumping out of your own skin. He flinches at your volume, knocking over the bag of rice resting against the vase in the center. Thankfully it was still sealed shut, if not there would’ve been a mess of rice grains all over the island counter. His clumsiness has you slapping a palm over your mouth to silence your giggles, not wanting to embarrass him.

”Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you…” You apologize sheepishly, folding your towel over your arm and placing it on a barstool nearby.

“N-No, you’re fine! I shouldn’t have just let myself in, it’s kinda just a habit. You deserve your privacy without having to worry about whether or not I’m gonna barge in unannounced.” He dismisses your apology with a wave of his hand. “I’ll just put these up for you and then I’ll be on my way.”

”Can I help?” You waddle over to him, fingers laced behind your back. “I’d feel bad watching you put my groceries away for me after going out and getting them.”

Yunho gestures for you to occupy the space beside him with a small smile that takes solace at the corner of his mouth. The two of you do everything in complete silence, still not entirely used to each other’s presence because of the lack of crossing paths. As you’re finishing up, you start grabbing the items you need for your cereal. He raises an eyebrow at you.

”You don’t want something a little more filling?” He suddenly questions, jutting his chin at your bowl.

”I would love that if I knew how to cook,” you laugh. “Ironic isn’t it? The granddaughter of two farmers can’t cook to save their life.”

Yunho shakes his head with a chuckle, ruffling his hair. “Well, I don’t have to feed the horses for another hour if you’d like for me to whip up something better than a bowl of cereal.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows furrow. Despite growing up with the mindset that you were above the farm life your grandparents tried to impose on you, you hated feeling like you were coming across as entitled. You didn’t want Yunho to think you were lazy or that you were too good. “You don’t have to do that. I can survive on instant ramen and cereal, I swear.”

”Y/N,” he says your name with a certain authority to it, and you’ve never loved the sound of your name coming out of someone else’s mouth so much before. “I want to. I’m not the world’s greatest chef or anything, but I have a couple tricks up my sleeve.”

”Okay, then,” you nod, taking a seat at the island. You watch in awe as he dances around the kitchen and prepares something for you. It’s weird, not in the sense that you feel awkward around this complete stranger, but because you feel the opposite. You feel comfortable around him, like you’ve known him for a while. It’s almost like Yunho has been a casual part of your life for much longer than a week. He’s easy to get along with, easy to mold into what you’re used to.

And that’s weird because you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who cooks dinner for you most nights, but somehow has never made you feel this taken care of. It throws you off. That should definitely not be the case. How is this man doing this in one week and your boyfriend couldn’t in two years?

The guilt settles in the pit of your stomach quickly. Sure, your boyfriend might’ve had a habit of forgetting important dates and didn’t give you half as much attention as he should’ve, but did that warrant the emotions brewing in your chest? Could that excuse this notion that maybe it was time to finally call it quits?

You zone out as Yunho finishes cooking your breakfast, too inside of your head to even fawn over the doting and slight coddling he was doing. Maybe you need to have a long conversation with Seojun about your relationship and where you want it to go. Perhaps it was a nice idea to invite him out to visit the farm, it could do you both some good.

“Ta-da!” Yunho holds out a plate to you, the sparkle in his eyes effectively pushing out any thoughts of your boyfriend and the shame that was picking at you. You can’t help but reciprocate his expression when you see how delicious the food looks.

He’d made you omurice, the ketchup on top in cute squiggly lines to form whiskers and a little dog face. You accept the plate gratifyingly, your fingers brushing as you do so. He smiles shyly, eyeing you carefully while you take the first bite. You don’t remember the last time you had a home cooked breakfast, accustomed to the occasional muffin at the coffee shop near your house.

”’Not the world’s greatest chef’ my ass,” you grumble, pouting at his humbleness and his inability to be bad at anything. “I might just ask you to have breakfast with me every morning if you can chef it up this well.”

That melodic laugh of his rings in your ears, his elbows resting on the island and his chin in his palms. “I’m sure Yeoreum would appreciate a companion who isn’t me.”

“How long have you had her?” You ask, shoveling more omurice into your mouth. If you weren’t so hungry and so appeased by how delicious it was, you’d feel bad for ruining his hard work. The ketchup no longer looked like a dog, but rather a splatter of red all over your plate.

“Almost four years now. I had her for a year before I met your grandparents. She adores them, so it’s no surprise that she likes you too.” He has this fond gaze in his eyes as he talks about his beloved Border Collie and it makes your heart ache.

The fact that he has such a good relationship with your grandparents seals the deal for you. Well, it would seal the deal if you were single. Yunho is like the ideal man that every parent would want their daughter to bring home. He knows how to cook, knows how to clean. He’s adept around the house, skilled in yard work and other random jobs like fixing leaky pipes and installing new appliances. He’s gentle, but doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

Your parents would never meet him, though. After the summer was over, you’d be back in Seoul and he would still be here, a distant memory. You forcibly laugh away the thought, excusing it as your response to his words and continuing the conversation about his dog.

Perhaps this stay would be harder to get through than you thought.

As the weeks pass you by, you find yourself becoming more and more infatuated with Jeong Yunho.

Cooking breakfast for you in the morning has become a regular thing. Monitoring him at the stove with sleepy eyes and a mug of fresh coffee in your hands has ingrained itself into your routine. Yeoreum called the spot beneath your stool her own now, laying there as her owner made your food. You think the transition from seeing him as just this comforting presence, this kind individual, to wanting something more was almost too smooth.

Especially right now as you sit on the back porch sipping on some lemonade, admiring the cowboy as he transfers bales of hay from the bed of his pickup truck to the pigpen and the cattle pen. He pauses in between trips, stripping off his flannel and tying it around his waist. He lifts the hem of the white tank top he’s wearing and uses it to wipe sweat from his forehead, revealing the toned abdomen he had been hiding from you up until now.

You feel like you’re going insane, trying to pretend like you’re reading your book as you not so subtly gawk at his muscles straining with each bale he lifts. It’s crazy really, the effect he has on you doing his fucking job. You’ve made it a habit to sit out here and stare at him under the guise of various other things. Aside from being borderline obsessive, it’s horrible because you’re still very much in a relationship.

Most people would feel a hell of a lot worse than you do, like their entire world was crumbling between their fingertips just for finding someone else attractive. But for some reason, as time has continued to roll on, that guilt— that self-preservation— has faded. You’re dipping into another emotion that you’re too scared to explore.

Yunho takes a break from his labor to guzzle down a bottle of water, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Had you been paying attention to anything other than the view of the handsome man, you would’ve noticed the glass sliding out of your grasp, the condensation becoming far too dense to keep a solid grip on the cup. In the midst of drooling over him, your lemonade falls to the ground with a loud clanging noise.

Your reflexes are only swift enough to save your book, but the drink spills everywhere else and you wince at how embarrassing the situation is. You hurry inside to grab a towel before he can see the mortification enveloping your features. He seemed like the observant type, like one scan of your face could tell him everything he needs to know without a single word exchanged. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter, blowing a raspberry while you attempt to regulate your blood pressure.

Through the window above the kitchen sink, you make out a confused Yunho, brows furrowed as he looks in the direction of the house. He worried over you entirely too much, particularly when you take into account the fact that all you did was think about him in manners not necessarily safe for work. Maybe you were just delirious. That was the only logical explanation for why you’re spiraling.

The high temperatures of the summer coupled with your surroundings are contributing to your change in behavior. Yes. That made sense. You weren’t crazy.

With a bit more reprieve, you’re able to grab a tea towel and head back outside to clean up your mess. (Not unaccompanied by a couple glances in Yunho’s direction, but that’s fine. Perfectly healthy even. It’s normal to check up on a friend. At least, that’s what you tell yourself, but who’s holding you accountable?)

“You know you’ve been making me breakfast every morning without asking for anything in return,” you speak up one morning, chin resting on the island. “Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

Yunho purses his lips as he hands you your plate. “Nah, I like cooking for you.”

You try to ignore the way that has your heart fluttering in your chest, try to ignore the warmth blooming beneath your skin. Your eyes glance down at your food to avoid eye contact, bringing your chopsticks up to your lips. “Okay, well I wanna do something for you.”

Despite mumbling the words, he hears you anyway and smiles to himself as he takes a sip from his mug. He rolls up the sleeves of his denim button up, reaching down to scratch behind Yeoreum’s ear, the area that you’ve learned is her favorite. She pants joyfully, jumping on his leg excitedly. He looks between the two of you.

”Missy here needs a bath,” he says, cooing at her. “I was gonna give her one later, after I cleaned out the stables, but if you don’t mind doing it.”

”I’d do just about anything for that precious girl,” you nod enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

This is how you end up out back, dog shampoo in one hand and the water hose in the other.

Yeoreum’s signature bandana and collar lay on one of the rocking chairs on the porch, the dog looking so different without her accessories as you prepare to bathe her. You wet her fur generously, squeezing enough shampoo into your palm to lather it on. Compared to your childhood pets, she’s pretty well behaved.

She’s probably one of the only dogs who’s ever actually enjoyed taking a bath, sitting still for you while you scrub and rinse and repeat. You take your time with cleaning her, wanting to make sure you do your best as a thank you for every plate Yunho has ever made you. Usually, this isn’t something you would jump at the opportunity to do. Somehow, being back at the farm this past month or so has done everything your parents tried to do when you were younger.

It could’ve had to do with the desensitization of being here every summer for so long that it just never stuck when you were grade school age. But now, fully grown and experiencing this all over again on your own, with new faces at your side, it’s like you’re being exposed to something different. You can see why your mom and dad didn’t want the city life to become a dependency.

You preferred the view of cabs and cafés over cows and chickens in the past, but now you found a sense of familiarity in them. You’d always want to go home as soon as you got here. Unlike other kids, you wanted your summer to be over as quickly as possible. You couldn’t imagine going home after this, though. This unveiled attachment to the farm you detested when you were younger could only be accredited to one person, and it was a little frightening.

He constantly brought out parts of you that you didn’t know existed. This enigma, the one that emphasized how big of a role he’s fulfilling in the short period of time you’ve been here, drills itself into your brain every day. You knew you had to acknowledge it sooner or later, but it was just less of a hassle to act like it wasn’t screaming at you. Your fear of change was a more pertinent issue to ignore, so you let it consume all else.

While getting lost in your thoughts, Yeoreum starts shaking and startles you, causing your hold on the hose to loosen, water spraying everywhere. The diversion has you losing your footing and slipping in the mud. You shriek, though it does nothing to block the stream that drenches you, your clothes getting wet. The universe decides it’s not on your side, because you happened to wear a white shirt. Why you chose to do that when you knew you were bathing a dog, you have no clue, but it was a little too late for regrets.

Yeoreum jumps out of the basin you had her in and runs to the farmhouse just as Yunho’s walking out, fresh from the shower. You forgot that he was cleaning the stables at the same time you were giving the Border Collie her bath, but now you’re starting to wish you waited until afterward just in case you needed the assistance. And well, you definitely needed the assistance.

Plucking the tail end of the mishap, Yunho’s initial reaction is to laugh at your misfortune, but the closer he gets to the scene, the laughter dies out in his throat. Your top is sheer enough that he can map out the outline of your black bra. It leaves very little to the imagination and he thinks he might fall to his knees right here.

Since your grandparents told him that you’d be house sitting while they were away and proudly showcased a photo of you, he’s been enthralled by you. You had the face of an angel, or maybe a really enticing demon, he hasn’t cogitated it much yet.

He swallows thickly, hoping to keep his composure as he makes his way to you. His hand is a little shaky when it reaches to take the hose from you, squeezing his eyes closed and switching off the water. He stays there for a few seconds to mentally prep himself for an up-close-and-personal look at you, even going as far as holding his breath.

“Uh— you— um— you should go inside and dry off before you catch a cold,” Yunho keeps his eyes cast downward. He’s grateful that you don’t note how red the tips of his ears are, or how he thinks the sky is suddenly much more interesting than your face.

Your head cocks to the side in confusion. “What do you mean ‘before I catch a cold’? It’s, like, a million degrees out.”

“The temperature drops at night and the sun’s setting soon. I’ll handle it from here. Yeoreum ran off, so I gotta chase after her anyway and I don’t think you want her to soak you more than she already has.” He’s insistent on shooing you away and getting you inside of the house. You huff.

”Okay… If you say so…”

Reluctantly, you spin around and traverse back. The draft of the air conditioning has you shivering, rubbing up and down your arms as you enter the bathroom to inspect the damage. Your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets when you finally see yourself. No wonder Yunho was so adamant on staving you off like you were the plague.

In your defense, you didn’t think the hose won the battle by that much. You assumed you’d just gotten everything above your shoulders wet, but no. You were practically doused head to toe. And the clear display of your brassiere under your clothes was the last thing on your mind.

He was stronger than you. Actually, he was a more respectful person than you. You would’ve gawked at him shamelessly if the roles were reversed. But at least you’re self aware! Right? The first step in recognizing that you have a problem, is admitting that you have a problem. That’s what you think they say in those addiction commercials, but you could be wrong.

Wow. Now you were comparing him to drugs. Though, you suppose there isn’t that huge of a difference. Both had equal success rates in terms of getting people high and then making it hard to wane off their effects.

You really had to quit it with the metaphor usage.

It’s around midnight that night when the lightbulb in the bathroom goes out, halting you from finishing your bedtime routine.

You’re exhausted to say the least, face damp from washing it and one of those fuzzy hairbands with the animal ears perched on your head. You were ready to crash out, but there were still a couple things you needed to do before that. It was proving to be a little difficult in the pitch black bathroom. The window above the shower was too narrow to provide any sufficient moonlight.

With a low grumble, you shuffle into your slippers and make the short trek from your grandparents’ house to Yunho in the farmhouse. You hug yourself when a strong breeze blows past, your flimsy t-shirt and sleep shorts doing hardly anything to block the cool summer night’s air.

A piece of you feels a little bad for bothering him so late, but you have no idea how to change a lightbulb. You don’t even know where the lightbulbs are. Besides, you think you’d electrocute yourself if you made an attempt to do it on your own.

You huff out a sigh and bring your knuckles up to knock at his door, waiting patiently for a response. He’s not asleep, you know this because he’s mentioned that his internal clock doesn’t turn off until two in the morning. Circadian rhythms were an odd concept, so to each their own.

“Yunho! It’s Y/N! Open up!”

When a few minutes have passed, you try the knob. Maybe it was a bit… too presumptuous of you to enter his home without explicit permission. Yes, you’d known each other for the better part of a month and a half, and yes, you’d gotten very close in that timeframe, but did that constitute your actions?

Whether or not the answer to that question was a yes or a no, you really wish you would’ve just waited outside. As you venture further in search of the cowboy, you stumble upon something you shouldn’t have.

Standing in the hallway on the other side of his bedroom, the door ajar at least an inch, you catch a glimpse of him on his bed. That white tank top you’re so used to seeing him in is between his teeth, eyebrows knit together in pure pleasure as he fists his cock with a purpose. His nostrils are flared and whiny moans escape from behind the fabric.

His head falls back every now and then, eyes fluttering shut when he runs his thumb over the slit. He’s so focused that he doesn’t notice you, too entranced with chasing his high. Your lips part as you watch him fuck up into his hand, his shirt slipping from his mouth when he groans out a curse.

Just as quickly as you become distracted by the sight of Yunho jerking off, you become aware of what you’re doing. You flee the scene before you get yourself caught, exiting the farmhouse as quietly as you can. The lightbulb can wait until morning, it wasn’t that important, honestly. You’re in a daze the entire walk back to your grandparents house, goosebumps littering your arms and the image of him in such an obscene state burned into your brain.

You fall backwards onto your bed, staring at the ceiling in hopes of willing away the path your mind is beginning to wander towards. All you can think about is the sight of him so desperate for release, large hand wrapped around his dick, abdomen contracting with need. You know you weren’t supposed to see, weren’t supposed to bear witness to something so personal.

It’s difficult to push out the nasty, inappropriate thoughts clouding your head. His expressions contorted into absolute bliss. His slender fingers could probably do so much more than your own, could probably reach places you’d never even dreamed of. And fuck, his dick, prettier and bigger than any other you’ve ever seen.

Your chest blushes with heat, an embarrassment washing over you when you realize you’re turned on. You should feel terrible for intruding on Yunho’s privacy like that, especially without him knowing, but all you can do is want him more than you already do. That craving for something deeper, carnal, fans the flame engulfing you, dragging you further into the sick and twisted hell you’ve created for yourself.

Yunho has been nothing but welcoming, kind and gentle with you, someone he didn’t even know the name of until last month. Someone who’s done everything in their power to repress this lifestyle for so long. And for some reason, it just comes so easily with him. You don’t feel forced to enjoy living on the farm. He makes you laugh and puts a smile on your face effortlessly. He has you wondering if life can actually be this simple.

But when all is said and done, there will be somebody else waiting for you back home. Somebody who doesn’t know how to whip up omurice with freshly laid eggs. Somebody who isn’t even a dog person, who thinks pets are nuisances. Somebody who doesn’t live in the farmhouse behind your grandparents’. It’s a bitter pill to swallow.

If you touch yourself with tears streaming down your cheeks to the thought of the man who has eyes that resemble the night sky, well that’s between you and whatever higher being exists out there.

You sit across from Yunho with bated breath, afraid that if you opened your mouth he would know your dirty secret. You avoid his eyes for the same reason, like one good look at you would reveal what you were trying to hide.

Yunho himself was doing his best to pretend like he hadn’t masturbated to the thought of you last night. He liked to think he was good at keeping his feelings under wraps. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were in a relationship, he’s heard you on the phone before. He stays silent as he fries rice in a pan and has some bread in the toaster. The only sounds in the kitchen are sizzling and the pants coming from Yeoreum under your stool.

In the time that you’ve been here, never once has it been awkward between you like this. The conversation usually doesn’t stop flowing, rolling on and on and filtering into things that don’t pertain to the original subject. He rarely has his back to you for too long, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a grin every here and now.

Both of you go to speak at the same time as a means of salvaging the morning from eternal strain. You stare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Truly, you were two birds of a feather, or however that saying goes.

”Sorry, I don’t know why I’m being so quiet today,” Yunho says, though he knows it’s a lie. “I guess I had a long night.”

”Oh, that reminds me,” his mention of the previous night has you recalling the reason you went out to the farmhouse in the first place. “The light in my bathroom went out, do you think you can fix it for me?”

“Yeah, for sure,” he begins preparing your plate. “Actually, I have this joke about lightbulbs. You wanna hear it?”

Your lips curl into a smile, already attempting to hold back your laughter. With a raised eyebrow, you respond, “What is it?”

”What did the lightbulb say to the light switch?” He asks nonchalantly, taking a bite from his own piece of toast. You’re failing miserably at acting like you don’t think the joke is funny, although he hasn’t even told you the punchline yet.

”I dunno, Yunho, what did the lightbulb say to the light switch?”

“‘You turn me on.’”

There’s a pregnant pause as the joke resonates and you can’t stop yourself from cackling at how stupid it is. He joins in, but mostly because your laughter is contagious. His chest swells with pride at his successful landing, feeling like he’s on top of the world just for bringing a smile to your face. God, he was down tremendously bad.

Your spoon clatters onto the counter as you lean over, a hand clapped over your mouth as your boisterous laughing simmers into a giggle. Yunho leans into you slightly, matching your energy as he munches on his toast. This is what has you conflicted, so at war with yourself. The proximity should have you pulling away, but something about him always reels you in, despite the consequences that await.

And unfortunately, those consequences come to a head today.

“Are you fucking serious, Y/N?”

You and Yunho jump back, whipping towards the source of the voice. Seojun stands there, his bags at his feet and his face crestfallen, disbelief written all over it. He shakes his head and turns to leave, you stumbling off of the barstool to follow behind him. The guilt you’ve only ever felt momentarily settles deep in your chest and deep in your stomach, though you technically haven’t done anything wrong.

Your abruptness startles Yeoreum and she’s up in a heartbeat, tailing behind you curiously. Yunho has to rush to stop her, but a part of himself wants to do the same. No matter how much he likes you, he’s never wanted to be the cause of your relationship falling apart. He wanted you organically, not like this.

”Seojun! Wait!” You call after him, holding up a hand to block out the harsh sunlight, tripping over your slippers. He scoffs.

“What am I waiting for? You to spew some bullshit about how nothing’s going on between the two of you? I’m not fucking stupid, Y/N. I’m not blind.” He pops open his trunk and throws his bags in haphazardly.

”You’re being unreasonable,” you exclaim, rounding the car so you’re directly in front of him. “There is nothing going on. We’ve just gotten to know each other since we live in the same vicinity. Did you want me to stay here for three months and hole myself away with no other human contact?”

“He was just supposed to be the guy who lived in the farmhouse. He wasn’t supposed to bother you. That’s what you told me, remember?” Seojun is losing his patience, something that has always been the root of the problem when you’ve gotten into past arguments. “How do you expect me to react when I come to surprise you and see you being so close to another man?”

“I was laughing at a joke he told me. You’re making this a bigger deal than it is and blowing everything completely out of proportion. I’m sorry that it never came up that we became friends, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve never once cheated on you in the three years we’ve been together and for you to accuse me of that is so fucking low of you.” You’re not going to cry, not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s won. He thrives off of seeing your vulnerability and you won’t let him have it.

“I saw the way he was looking at you,” he seethes, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I know that look because that’s how I used to look at you.”

A laugh devoid of any humor leaves you and he blinks. “That’s how you ‘used to’ look at me? When did you stop? And why am I just finding this out?”

”That’s not— that isn’t what I meant, Y/N—“

”No, Seojun. You did,” you glance away from him, nipping at the inside of your cheek. “We’re grasping for straws. We aren’t going anywhere anymore and we haven’t for a while now. That’s why we're standing here arguing over this. I just want to know why you didn’t just tell me.”

”I’m too complacent,” he sighs, breathing through his nose. “I was too comfortable with you and I didn’t know how to let you go or walk away. But you’re right, there isn’t anything for us to save, and it seems like we’re both ready to move on.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw how you were looking at him, too. You might not have acted on it, but you have feelings for him. I’m not gonna stay and hold you back.” Seojun unlocks his car, opening the door. “And for what it’s worth, you won’t be wasting your time.”

You don’t respond, instead humming and letting him drive off. Once his car is far enough out of your view, you go back into the house. There’s an indescribable emotion that hostages you, binding your wrists and tying you down metaphorically. You can’t seem to shake it.

Yunho is still in the kitchen, sitting on the floor with Yeoreum to keep her calm. He gazes up at you expectantly and you feel the tears you were suppressing from Seojun bubbling up. If you weren’t going to cry in front of your (now ex) boyfriend, you definitely weren’t going to cry in front of him.

With a trembling exhale, you force yourself to say, “I need to be alone.”

He understands empathetically, clipping on Yeoreum’s leash and leaving the house in the same breath. That in itself has you crying like a baby the moment you’re all by yourself. You hold your face in your hands, body shuddering with each sob you release.

I saw the way he was looking at you.

I saw how you were looking at him, too.

You had a lot to think about, and everything always seemed to circle back to Jeong Yunho.

A couple days escape you before you register you haven’t seen much of Yunho. After your breakup with Seojun, you really did need a bit of room to process it all, but you hadn’t realized just how much you depended on the cowboy’s presence until you were missing it.

You hadn’t meant to push him away, if that’s how he saw it. A night of bawling your eyes out with a pint of ice cream and The Vow was enough to cure you. However, it appears that he thought you needed more, going as far as putting a pin in your daily breakfast ritual. You aren’t sure how to extend an olive branch when you weren’t even trying to cause a rift between you in the first place.

Being with someone for three years may not seem like a lot, but that fraction of your life is stuck with you, like a thumbtack that refuses to come out of the wall. You’d had boyfriends before Seojun, but they weren’t nearly as serious. There weren't formal introductions between parents, no late night conversations that bleed into early mornings, no sleepovers and quick kisses before work.

Of course, after a certain point, those had just become habitual. You weren’t doing them because they evoked a sense of love or care anymore, but rather because you were familiar with them. It was safer to continue the pattern of waking up and falling asleep to Seojun on the other side of the bed, the intrusion of sunlight and the cacophony of traffic outside your window, even if you didn’t really want to.

And then you came here.

Somehow, returning to your grandparents’ farm was exactly what you needed to break through that cycle. As much as you would love to attest it to your location and discovering the appreciation your family wanted you to feel for it, you know the real reason. It’s all thanks to a certain cowboy.

Yunho’s feelings for you run far deeper than he could’ve imagined. He doesn’t know the extent of what happened with you and Seojun, but he thinks putting distance between you is better in the long run anyway. On the off chance you’re still together, he wants to preserve his heart. He’s handed it to someone else too easily in the past and he doesn’t want to make that mistake with you if you don’t feel the same.

But even on the off chance that you’ve broken up, he still wants to stop himself from falling further and harder than he already has. Without ill will, he doubts that you would give up the life you have in the city for this, for him. He’ll be perpetually chained to being a faint imprint on your memory of the summer. You’ll think back to the months you spent here and he’ll have played only a minor role.

It was wishful thinking, too hopeful of him to presume this would lead to a happy ending. You were from different worlds, led different lives. It was time for him to be realistic. And that meant implementing the space that was supposed to exist between you from the get go.

Though, you make it difficult when he bumps into you on the way back from the mailbox. Déjà vu, anyone?

Yeoreum is excited to see you, jumping onto her haunches to lick your face when you kneel to her level. You giggle, squeezing one eye shut as you balance yourself and hold her still so her weight doesn’t clamber you both onto the ground. Your fingers pet to top of her head softly as you coo, “Who’s a good girl?”

Yunho physically winces when his chest tightens at the sight of his two favorite girls. The word ‘distance’ bounces around his head like a pinball, reminding him what he’s supposed to be doing. He just can’t bring himself to walk away. Especially when you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours.

“Hey…” You start, steeling your tone to ensure it’s even. “I’m sorry if it seemed like I was avoiding you or something. I needed some time to myself to figure things out. It wasn’t my intention to shut you out and put you on the back burner.”

”No, it’s okay. I had to figure stuff out on my own, too,” he uses his bandana to dab at the sweat perspiring on his forehead. “Did you sort through whatever you needed to?”

“I did,” you nod, standing upright. “Seojun and I broke up, so I had to sit with my feelings for a bit. We’ve been together for so long, I think I needed to remember what it was like to be without him, and then I realized that’s basically what I’ve been doing since I came here.”

”Oh.” Yunho’s lips form an ‘O’ shape, hands dragging down the sides of his pants. “I’m sorry— um— about your breakup.”

”Don’t be,” you smile, dismissing his sympathy. “It was a long time coming, honestly. We weren’t really in the relationship wholeheartedly anymore. There wasn’t a point in stringing it along, you know? But that’s enough about me, did you figure your own things out?”

”I thought I did,” he says, which is true considering he’d been mulling over what to do with his emotions subsequent to your argument with your ex. “And then I kinda steered off course. It’s alright, though, I think I like the new conclusion I’ve come to a lot better.”

You might be on the same page now, but there was an entire discussion that had to happen to solidify that. Following a very emotionally charged past couple days, you could do without that today. You’re both just glad that the air is cleared and you can resume building the bond that began forming the moment you stepped foot onto the farm, no restrictions whatsoever.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

You glance up from your book, this time genuinely reading it as Yunho fed the chickens and cleaned up their coop. He towers over you while he asks the question, his shadow thwarting off any direct sunlight. Your nose scrunches.

“When I was in, like, middle school? It’s been a minute,” you answer, making sure to bookmark the page you stopped at. “Why?

”Would you let me teach you how to do it again?” He nips at his lower lip, like he’s nervous you’ll say no. The truth of the matter is you’d say yes even if he asked you to commit arson, which is kind of a problem.

“That sounds fun,” you shrug. “What time should I be ready?”

”Uh, now?”

Okay, so sitting on a horse did not seem this scary when you were twelve.

It probably had to do with you being fearless and whatnot, but also because you did whatever your grandparents asked just to appease them. The faster you got off the damn horse, the faster you could go back inside and situate yourself in front of the TV. They thought they were making progress with you, but really you were outsmarting the outsmarters.

Sweat glazes on the underside of your hands, disrupting the security of your grasp on the reins. Yunho thought it would be wiser if he stayed on foot, guiding you and the horse around the perimeter of the pen. You hoped you didn’t look as afraid as you were, but you’re certain the slight quiver of your bottom lip gives it away.

“You’re doing fine, Y/N,” he reassures, maintaining a comforting amount of eye contact with you.

”Am I? Or does it just seem that way because you’re pulling the horse?” You quip, gripping the reins tighter when it steps over a rock and you sway a little. Your tone is laced with sarcasm, something Yunho hasn’t heard much of from you since you’ve met, but he thinks it’s cute that you resort to violence when you’re scared.

You notice the quirk of his mouth and how he’s trying not to laugh at your terror. It pisses you off solely because his humor isn’t unwarranted. You are being a bit over dramatic. He unties his bandana from around his neck and tosses it to you. “So you don’t callus your hands.”

He’s too thoughtful, too considerate for his own good, but that’s what roped you in. Even when you met for the first time, he had you figured out. The longer you stare at him, the more you realize just how perfect he is. If you were still in school and you were tasked with writing an essay about the summer you spent here, you’re sure the words would flow onto the pages flawlessly, without skipping a beat. Your prose would be so beautifully written, that even the most notable authors would be envious of your experience.

The only downside of this was the fact that time was beginning to seep through your fingers. There was mutuality in your feelings for each other, that was almost unequivocal. You were both just hesitant in taking that first leap. The uncertainty lied with that goodbye at the end of August, the one that’ll hurt a lot more than it was supposed to. But you know that postponing your unceremonious declaration of feelings would just do more harm than anything else.

One consistency you’ve singled out since coming back to the farm is this common theme of divine intervention, or fate, whatever you want to call it. Right when you’re on the brink of an epiphany, you’re always forcefully shoved into it, like a freight train crashing into its platform traveling at full speed. This moment is no different.

Yeoreum barking at a squirrel on the other side of the pen scares the horse who’s back you were currently on. It bucks up and you release the reins in alarm. You fall quickly, but Yunho’s quicker, catching you in his arms like it’s been a childhood dream of his to be a superhero. He searches your face for any indication that you might be hurt, a hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The eyes you’ve grown to adore examine your own with so much care that you find yourself melting in his hold. Your face instinctively leans into his palm, fingers still clutching the fabric of his shirt like he may drop you.

It’s nearly second-nature to minimize the gap between you.

You never understood what novelists meant when they described kissing scenes. And you think that’s because you’d never truly had a kiss like this before. It was as if they were all talking about this second, this blip in time. The sparks that shoot from where your lips meet to the tips of your fingers, the thump-thump-thump of your heartbeat in your ears, the sensation of never wanting to escape, never wanting to stop.

Yunho’s hand snakes behind your head, tangling in your hair to deepen the connection. It’s hungry. It’s desperate. It’s too much. It’s not enough. Everything that had been stacking on top of each other was leading to this, the collision that rivaled the Big Bang. You whine into his lips, an invitation but also an inquiry.

He parts from you just so he can catch his breath, his forehead resting on yours. “Can I take you inside?”

You nod fervently. “Yes. Please.”

He wastes no time hauling you to the farmhouse. His grip on your wrist is gentle as he pulls you into his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and trapping you between his legs. Your restraint wears thin, nimble fingers fumbling with the rest of the buttons on his denim shirt. You push it off of his shoulders, a bit shell shocked when you discover that he’s wearing a regular t-shirt as opposed to his usual tank top.

“You would pull something like this today of all days,” you laugh breathily, untucking the shirt from his pants. He reciprocates the sentiment, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck while you undress him.

“Is it evil of me to say I was sorta hoping this would happen?” He speaks into your exposed collarbone, nipping, sucking, biting the skin. Your appreciative sigh goads him, his tongue gliding across the abused surface as a form of relief.

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head, fast to yank off his shirt and run your nails down his abdomen. “I’ve been waiting for this for too long.”

“Yeah?” Yunho flips the two of you easily so you’re the one on the bed now. He pushes up the hem of your shirt, pecking your stomach to your clavicle as he shows more and more of your skin until the fabric is removed from your body. “Can’t believe I finally get to have you.”

You involuntarily moan, completely untouched and because of his words alone. Every part of you feels like it’s lit ablaze, burning with want and need and everything in between. This ran further than just what-ifs and late night fantasies. Your relationship with Yunho tiptoed on the edge of something you’ve never known before, and that makes this so much more special.

He glances up at you when his fingers reach for the button of your shorts, a silent ask for permission. You give him the green light and hold yourself up on your elbows, watching with your breathing trapped in your throat as he rids of your panties along with them. His hands push your knees to your chest, kissing your inner thighs and right around the place you need him most, but never there.

“Yunho…” You warn, but it comes across as a broken whimper rather than an establishment of authority. He laughs and then his lips are pressing to your clit, a sweet kiss that has all rationality taking a vacation from your brain. Your head tips back and you fist at the sheets.

He drags his tongue through your folds, swirling it around the sensitive bundle of nerves each time it makes its return. It’s almost criminal how good it feels to have his mouth on your cunt, eyes already heavy lidded with pleasure. He sucks on your clit at the same time he decides to insert a finger into your entrance, curling it experimentally just because he can. Like you predicted, it reaches that spongy spot at the crook of your pussy, brushing it once he’s sure he’s found it.

While you walked in on him fucking his fist, the only thing on his mind was you. He was so absorbed in the mental image of what you would look like beneath him, wiggling, writhing, squirming with indulgence. His social awareness was at a zero. This replayed over and over until he came, his thoughts so vivid he could’ve swore it was real.

But this, the actual thing, was so much better; his forearm pinning your hips down, his middle finger curling and uncurling inside of you, his mouth working overtime to inch you towards the edge of that steep cliff. He moans when your eyebrows practically coalesce, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You look so gorgeous like this, so disoriented all because of the bliss he was providing. The vibrations of the sound have you arching your back, uncontrollable whines running from your mouth.

“Feel good?” Yunho asks, disconnecting his mouth and replacing it with his other hand, ring and middle digits swiping across your clit with practiced pressure.

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, eyes on the brink of rolling to the back of your head. “Feels so good, Yun… Just like that, ‘m almost there.”

That’s all he needs to hear, switching his hand and mouth once again, focusing on alternating harsh and gentle sucks of your clit, adding a second finger to pump in and out of your hole. The doubled change in stimulation knocks the wind out of you, the precipice of your orgasm so close you can taste it. You’d never been brought to the summit this early in the past, and you think Yunho deserves some sort of reward for being the first to do so.

You’d worry about that later though, because you’re blindsided by it before you can even conjure your next thought. You cum with a cry, tears springing to your eyes from the immense amount of ecstasy coursing through your veins, swimming in your bloodstream. Yunho coos at you, not stopping until you’ve relaxed in his hold. “That’s it, baby, you’re doing so well.”

The praise makes your head feel airy, like empty space unoccupied by anything. If you paid attention in chemistry, then you’d know that’s highly impossible, but you didn’t. The only chemistry you even remotely care about is the one between you and Yunho, the tension that has piled higher and higher for days on end until its crescendo now.

You sit up to kiss him roughly, savoring the taste of yourself on his lips. He smiles into it, a hand raising to caress the underside of your jaw. He climbs onto the bed, scooting you up so you’re positioned by the pillows. It doesn’t take much effort for your bodies to swap, his back to the headboard. You clumsily seat yourself on his lap, a knee on either side of him and sighing wistfully when his mouth trails down your throat and sternum, slender fingers sneaking behind you to unclasp your bra.

He aids you in removing his pants, still simultaneously prioritizing kisses all over your bare chest. When you’re both fully naked, you take your time admiring his cock. It’s just as pretty as you remember, long and thick. Your hand wraps around it gingerly, stroking the length as you lean down to kiss him again. You don’t think you could ever get enough of his lips on your own.

“I’m not exactly getting any action over here, so I don’t have any condoms,” he says into your kiss, voice no louder than a whisper.

“That’s okay,” you run your fingers through his hair. “Wanna feel you anyways, all of you.”

”Fuck, Y/N, you can kill a man with those words.” He groans, nails digging into your hips. You giggle, but it’s interrupted by him sitting you fully, his dick slipping through your lower lips. A whine brushes his ear when the tip catches your clit, repeating the movement until you can’t stay still.

The closest you’ll ever get to Heaven on earth is Yunho’s cock pushing inside of you, filling you up so deliciously you think you could die like this. Your jaw slackens, hands coming up to support yourself on his shoulders. Even if this is a one time thing, something that never happens again during your stay at the farm, he wants you to remember this when you go back home. He wants you to recall this sliver in your timeline and never forget it, wants his name engraved in your memory like a branding iron.

Once he feels you’ve adjusted to him well enough, he pulls you off of him almost entirely, just to ram back in without mercy. He punches a voluminous moan from you, eyes watching where he disappears in you and reemerges. You’re tighter and so much warmer than he dreamed you’d be, but it’s perfect. You suck him in like a vacuum, as if his cock was made to be inside of you, as if you didn’t want him to part from you.

“You’re s-so deep, Yun,” you mewl, pulling him in for another headache-inducing kiss. “Don’t wanna stop.”

He exhales through his nostrils, mumbling out a curse when your walls squeeze around him. He wanted to last a while for you, wanted to hold out and prolong this moment until you were both on the crest of passing out. But you feel like a glove, your silk-adjacent cunt begging for more and more.

“Think I might cum soon, princess,” he groans, tossing his head back and just about losing every ounce of his sanity when your lips start marking the column of his throat.

His big hands move under your thighs, holding you in place so he can fuck up into you. The pace at which his cock drills in and out of your pussy has you seeing stars, eyes snapping shut and nothing but colorful spots decorating your vision. You were already abhorrently sensitive following your first orgasm, so it didn’t really take much to introduce the second.

Your hips stutter and it washes over you like a tidal wave, your body shuddering and collapsing into his top half. He pulls out of you quickly, mouth stationed by your ear as he jerks himself off until he’s painting your backside. He moans, a lot like the sounds he was making the other night, and you feel the need to just kiss him again.

Your lips lock sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous actions. Yunho curves a hand on your cheek, seperating from you the smallest distance so he can admire you. The smile that etches onto his expression makes you dizzier than anything else. However, the cutesiness can only span so long before the setting gives way.

Yunho’s hand snakes in between you, his forefinger sliding up and down your slit teasingly. Your breath comes out shaky, your face finding purchase in the crook of his neck. He replaces the digit with his middle finger, parting your pussy lips in search of your clit. It doesn’t take him very long to find it, rubbing tight circles into the engorged skin. You moan into his shoulder, resting your forehead on it to see the way he works your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Have I not fucked you enough?” He whispers into your ear huskily. Yunho talking dirty to you is something you didn’t know you needed in your life. His finger slips downward, thrusting up into your hole with ease. He keeps massaging your clit with his palm, the stimulation making your head woozy.

“Mmmph— Yun, god. Feels too good.” You whine, gyrating your hips on his hand.

“Is that right, babe?” He encourages, adding a second finger and increasing the speed of their thrusts, almost like you hadn’t been in this position already. “I can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy around my cock again. Gonna fuck you harder than the last.”

Your whimpers raise in volume, focusing on the way he curls his digits in you, applying pressure with the heel of his palm to the circles he’s rubbing into your clit. You can sense your third orgasm approaching, warmth flooding your cheeks at how embarrassingly fast he worked you back up. Your walls clench around his fingers, alerting him of how close you are. He pauses, worming his body down so his face is eye level with your cunt again.

Yunho does the whole teasing thing a second time, kissing and suckling the hot skin of your belly, knowingly denying you of your release. You grab a handful of his hair, tugging at the ends to spur him on. He groans, giving into you and licking a straight line up your slit. He inserts both fingers again, this time using his tongue to manipulate your swollen clit.

The heat of Yunho’s mouth makes your insides ache, the necessity to cum intensifying. You keen loudly, desperately, needily, the sight of the brunette between your legs so incredibly arousing. He sucks on your throbbing clit, his long fingers as deep as they can go, and you crumble.

“Oh my god— oh my god— I’m cumming! I’m—” You cut yourself off, convulsing under him. He laps up as much of your juices as he can, coating his chin with your release. You moan as you pull him towards you to unify your lips, a mixture of your saliva and cum connect your mouths in strings. At this point, the sex is messier than anything you could’ve plucked from your wildest dreams.

One hand trails down your body, using your nimble fingers to play with your sensitive clit when he starts fisting his cock in preparation to enter your pussy again. You use your free hand to scratch at his contracting abs. He hisses, propping himself up with one arm next to your head and his eyes trained on the way you finger yourself at the same time. You can feel his breath on your cheeks and being in this proximity to him fuels your yearning.

“Please, Yun… Need you back inside of me,” you whimper. Rubbing your clit with your own fingers isn’t satisfying enough, not with him here in front of you, not when you know how good he can make you feel.

“Fuck, baby, when you beg like that I don’t know if I can hold back.” He chuckles lowly. It rumbles from his chest, shooting to your core.

“So don’t,” you rouse. “This is more than just a one time thing for me, Yunho.”

His eyes widen just a bit, your confession catching him off guard. That’s all he needs to line himself up with your hole, hooking his forearm under your knee as he slides in, stretching your cunt so perfectly with his perfect cock. “Shit— you’re so tight, princess… It’s almost like I didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life.” He moans and spreads your legs wider. He bottoms out with a grunt, throwing his head back from the feeling of your velvety walls. A near deafening cry is ripped from your vocal cords. He nips at your neck, starting to piston his hips.

His thrusts don’t slow but become calculated, speeding up and diving deep simultaneously. It only took a short amount of time to figure out what you liked and he used it to his advantage. Yunho hikes your knee to your chest, groping your tits with his free hand. He twists and tugs at your nipples just hard enough that it contributes to your pleasure rather than hurts you.

It’s as if he doesn’t feel buried inside of you sufficiently, because he decreases his pace to press and fold your other leg up, his hips ramming into your ass with each thrust now. The tip of his cock kisses at what feels like your cervix. That familiar coil begins to fasten again, keening with every drive into your cunt. The squelching noises would’ve made you cower in shame with anyone else, but with Yunho it turns you on further.

You moan, and he flattens his hand on the lower part of your stomach. Yunho groans, biting the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Your fingers find your clit again, circling insatiably to get yourself off.

“You gonna cum for me again?” He rasps, his hold on your legs almost painful. The backs of your thighs burn, but you endure it for the sake of the moment. You reach up and behind yourself, grabbing at the headboard in an attempt to match his force.

“Oh my god, yes— yes yes yes yes,” you babble, the syllables blurring together like your mind. “Gonna cum so hard for you, Yunho. Keep going, please.”

His lips attach to yours, tongues tangling sloppily. The position you’re in is on the opposite end of the spectrum from how you were expecting this summer reunion to go. Had you not been made aware of Yunho living here at the last minute, you probably would’ve backed out of your commitment to staying. Deep down you’re a little too thankful that your grandmother mentioned him when it was too late to reconsider.

“I think I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Yunho whispers into your mouth.

You let go of the headboard, cupping his jaw and kissing him lovingly. “Me too.”

Your fingers speed up and so do his thrusts, perfectly timed with each other to shove you both towards your highs. You’re on the cusp of falling apart, arching into him to close the gap between your bodies.

“Wanna cum inside you. Can I?” Yunho grunts.

“Yes yes, please. Fill me up, Yun, want all of you.”

He continues to abuse your cunt, pounding into you like his life depended on it. You sob, clamping your walls around him. He freezes, suddenly spilling into you. “Come on, baby, cum on my cock.” The warmth of his release and his words coax your orgasm, the fluttering of your cunt milking every single drop from him that it can. Even with his dick plugging you up, you can feel it dripping out of you and onto the sheets below.

He rocks into you languidly until you’ve calmed down enough for him to pull out. His forehead is flush on your chest, rising and falling with it, both of you so spent from the intense physical activity you engaged in. You stare up at the ceiling with heavy eyelids, carding your fingers through his hair to soothe him.

“You meant what you said right? About this not being a one time thing.” Yunho says hesitantly, like he’s afraid of permeating the atmosphere you created.

“I don’t think I can go home at the end of the summer and forget the way I feel for you, Yunho.” You admit out loud. There had been a constant struggle in your head over whether or not to follow your heart, but as he looks at you with those sparkly eyes of his, you know your answer. And you feel a little stupid for ever considering the counter.

“And what exactly are those feelings?” He pushes, folding his hands on your sternum and laying his cheek on top. You giggle, brushing his hair out of his view. As tempting as it was to divulge your theatrical journey in assessing your emotions, you’re too exhausted to stay awake. It would have to wait for another day.

“You have the rest of the summer to find out, cowboy.”

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