#humidity control packs

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 14)

first chapter >> last chapter

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It’s you for once crawling over him in the dead of night and stroking your hand down the side of his face.

Any other night, you would be able to brush off the urge to curl yourself around him and press your lips into the bristly corner of his jaw, but after a long day of waiting and worrying, and a week’s worth of pent up stress and guilt, you have no choice but to succumb to your urges. It’s burrowed so deep inside of you that it’s almost a base need now. You need to be as close to him as possible.

John coaxes you to bed once you finish bandaging his hands. It’s not meant presumptively; you can tell from the deep bags under his eyes that he needs sleep more than anything. 

For a spell, you sleep with the comfort of your husband by your side. After a week of keeping to your side of the bed, body stiff to keep from turning over in your sleep and curling up into his—committed, in your ire, to punishing both him and yourself—you relish the opportunity to snuggle up under his arm. 

The ache between your legs only becomes unmanageable somewhere around the middle of the night. You wake in a daze, sweating profusely, cheek pressed to a hard chest that rises and falls with his breaths. It takes a moment for the fog to clear, but once it does you realize that you’ve rolled on top of him, legs spread on either side of a thick thigh and your sex pressed tight to the muscle, your hips undulating. 

Your lips part enough for your tongue to slip out and wet them. Another wave of need washes over you, making your breath come out ragged. Your vision is still spotty, sleep half-crusted into the folds of you, and with the room still ensconced in darkness, no amount of blinking ever clears it out. 

The air around you feels hot and humid; your skin sticks to his when you lift your head up, your face damp with sweat. John’s hand is loose at your bottom, curved under a cheek to hold you to him. The other is nestled against the small of your back. Your shift is drawn up around your waist, likely riding up when you crawled over your husband in the middle of the night, but it means that only the thin fabric of your underwear is pressed against John’s thigh. Every roll of your hips rubs your clit in just the right way. 

You pant against his chest when you roll your hips again. You’d be humiliated if he woke up to see you humping his leg like a puppy, but you can hardly control yourself. In the month since marrying him, you’ve grown accustomed to a certain amount of relief at your husband’s hands, and to suddenly lose that in one fell swoop has left you, for lack of a better word, frustrated. 

“Hmm…darlin’…” John suddenly groans, hand gripping into the flesh of your backside and grinding your sex down against his leg. 

You still at the sound of his voice, biting back your moan when he shifts his thigh and presses it up into you. He wakes gradually, blinking down at you when you peer up at him. The blood rushes under your cheeks, growing hot when he blinks at you again slowly, realization unfurling behind his eyes like a lotus flower blooming under moonlight. 

“I’m sorry, I’m just…” you whisper, choking back a moan again when his hand slides down your bottom and in between your legs, fingers rubbing against the wet seam of your cunt.

John chuckles, the sound raspy with sleep. “Christ, honey, you’re wet…should’ve told me you needed a good fucking.”

“You n-needed to sleep,” you say, gasping into his chest when John strokes his fingers up and down between your thighs. The sensation is mildly dulled by the fabric covering your center, but his prodding fingers make you jolt anyway. 

“Darlin’, If I’d known, I never would’ve let you go to bed wanting.”

He maneuvers you onto your side for long enough to let him draw your underwear down your legs before rolling over onto his back again and balancing you over his lap. With your knees on either side of his hips, your cunt is spread wide open for his gaze, the soft, dewy folds parting to expose your slick center. 

Words are silken in your head and they slide from side to side as you watch John lift his hips and reach down to pull himself out. He moves with a practiced ease, but the flush high on his cheeks betrays his eagerness. You run your hands through the pelt on his chest as you stare at the glistening tip of his member poking out the top of his grip. 

“We’ve never done this,” you remark, almost a casual observation. Despite your heart beating rabbit-quick, the words aren’t caught behind your tongue. Instead, John's presence acts like a balm, nervousness bleeding away to anticipation. 

“First time for everything, isn’t there?”

“I suppose,” you murmur, eyes locked on the turgid length that he notches against your entrance, impaling you on it so slowly that it almost doesn’t register at first. 

You feel the stretch when he bottoms out though. The last inch comes all at once, winding you. It is a frightening, soaring sensation; a blunt intrusion that takes you to another place. No pleasantries this time because you’re an old hat at this now, you suspect, but still you gasp when his girth stretches you beyond what you recalled. 

“Fuck…there it is,” John grunts, transferring his hands to your waist. “Christ, tightened right up since we last made love, didn’t you, sweetheart?”

His words, while crass, hold true. You can feel every throbbing inch of him.

“It’s not like—” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment, sweat beading around your hairline. “I wasn’t about to, ah… fool around with anybody else.”

“‘Course you wouldn’t, darlin’,” he croons, stroking his hand up your side. “We just had a little spat, is all. I know you’re my good girl.”

His words make you clench up tight, drawing a rumbling groan out of him. 

“N-no, I’m not a good…—I’m just…it just wouldn’t be right. We’re married. I’d—I’d never…” The words come out shaky, punched out because he takes that moment to help guide you up, nearly pulling out of you completely before bringing you back down.

“Knew you were my good girl soon as I saw you,” John muses, his voice low and husky, hands gripped tight at your waist. “Couldn’t wait to make you mine. Wasn’t even supposed to marry you right away—thought we’d get to know each other a bit, but then—”

“You—oh, unf—you dragged me to the courthouse.”

He smiles roguishly. “I couldn’t let you go after I saw you. Had to make you mine, darlin’.”

You ride him carefully at first, unsure of yourself. 

It’s strenuous work taking his cock this way, doing all the heavy lifting yourself. You almost think you’d fight him if you weren’t lost in pleasure, eyes defocusing as you stare down at him. Each time you impale yourself on his length, your breath hitches out of you. A sharp oh, oh, oh; chasing something elusive that wants you after it. 

When your thighs feel strained to the point of burning, you beg him to hurry up. Enough, you blubber, the word almost subsumed into a guttural moan. That makes him grit his teeth, a dark look coming over his face. You hiccup when he plants his feet against the bed and his hips buck up into you, the squelch of your own cunt making your fingers dig into his chest hair. 

All you can do is take it, your hands planted on his chest and jaw dropping open on a moan that you can’t hold back. 

Tears clumping your eyelashes together, a single drop landing in the middle of John’s chest when he forces you all the way down on his cock and holds you there, jiggling the pearl at the apex of your sex with his thumb until you almost struggle to pull away. He always has to fight you through an orgasm, the stubborn thing trapped behind your teeth, begging him to use you how he wants. 

When it hits you though, it’s sharp and hot. It makes you reel backwards, your control slipping out of your grasp so suddenly that the sharp buck of his hips nearly knocks you clean off. He holds you down tight though, keeping you impaled on his shaft. 

“There we go,” John rasps. “That wasn’t so hard, huh?”

After making you come, he rolls you over until your back is pressed against the bed and he hovers over you, nestled between your thighs. He drops down until his face is buried in your neck, a big arm wedging under your back and hooking over your shoulder, the other sliding under your low back and clutching your waist. When he thrusts into you, you realize with a start that he has you locked to his chest. You aren’t going anywhere. 

“Christ, keep squirming like that,” John growls into your neck, sucking at the sweaty patch of skin between your neck and shoulder. 

Each thrust knocks the air out of you. Where your skin isn’t slick with sweat, you itch. Overwhelmed by touch and taste. Teeth clacking when his hips speed up, driven into a frenzy by his own urge to come. And again, there’s nowhere for you to run, not with his arms wound tight around you, all of his strength concentrated on holding you to his chest. You don’t think anyone could pry him off you. 

“I’m gonna—I’m gonna—” you gasp, feeling it brewing under your skin again. The feeling makes you panicky this time though. He’s made you come plenty of times, but never in such quick succession. 

The pitch of your moans goes breathy and high, rising to nearly a caterwaul. 

He licks into the shell of your ear. “Got a little tighter there, sweetheart. Gonna give me another?”  

You can’t answer him. Only intelligible babbling, a high, reedy plea whistled through your teeth. Your hands rake down his back, scoring red lines into the skin, and clutching helplessly, trying to both pull him closer and push him away. It’s almost too much, too soon.  

“Almost there, almost there,” he pants, the sweat on his brow dripping down onto your face. It nearly drips into your eye. You wish he’d pull back and kiss you, sooth the panicked staccato of your heart, but he’s lost in his own need, bucking into you like a beast. “C’mon, give me it, sweetheart. Be a good girl.” 

You’re on the precipice of it, hanging on with clawed hands dug into the muscle of his back. In danger of tipping over, a gale at your back. The intensity frightens you though. You cling to him like digging your hands into the earth to root you in place. 

John’s arms tighten around you as he nears his end. You feel compressed, choked, only a warm slippery thing for him to plant his seed in. 

His breath is hot in your ear when he rasps, “Where the fuck are your manners, darlin’? I said, give me it.”

Then he arches into it, spine going stiff when he empties himself into your cunt. His arms squeeze all the air out of your lungs. You must come more than once, a record, because by the time he pulls out of you, you practically sink into the bed, sapped of energy. Not enough strength to even twitch a finger. 

John collapses onto the bed beside you, tugging you into his chest. It feels so intimate, lying on your side with a leg draped over John’s hip. You shiver when the sweat begins to cool. 

He drags a finger through your puffy, raw sex from the back, scooping up his essence with two fingers. You go cross-eyed when he pushes it back into you, hissing and pushing against his shoulders, trying to dislodge him from between your legs. John doesn’t budge; his eyes barely even flick down to meet yours as he pushes more of his spend back into your hole. 

Your chest goes tight at that. 

After, he sits you upright with your back to his chest and holds a glass of water up to your lips, making you drink until it dribbles down your chest. A big hand rests on your belly. 

“Why do you like touching there?” you ask, taking another sip.

“This is where my babe will sit,” he says, and you choke on your water, coughing until your lungs are clear and your eyes water. “Soon, with any luck.”

“You sure know what you want,” you wheeze, eyes still watering from your coughing fit.

He presses a kiss into your hair. “That I do.”

Two days later, John wakes you up with the news that an incident on a farm a few towns over will take him from you for the next few days.

You frown into your oatmeal. “Why so long?”

He sits at the table across from you with his chair pushed out, scraping off the mud caked on his boots with a dry brush. He sucks his cheek when you ask that question. 

“Bit unpleasant to bother you with the specifics, darlin’, but, uh…suffice it to say that it’s not something we can wrap up in just one day.”

“Did someone die?” you ask bluntly. 

John looks over at you from the corner of his eye, unimpressed. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Was it violent?”

“Jesus Christ, woman, you don’t need to go poking your nose into all of that.”

You roll your eyes at that. If he knew even a fraction of the things you’ve seen, he wouldn’t be nearly so askance at the thought of upsetting your delicate constitution. “But it’ll keep you there for some time?”

He nods. “At least a couple days. Maybe more. There’s matters to be dealt with, arrests to be made…won’t be easy work.”

“Is Simon accompanying you?”

“Both him and Kyle. I’m leaving Soap behind to keep the peace.”

“So you’re expecting to come back to the town in complete disarray then?”

John laughs at that, a big bellowing sound that makes you flinch and then warms your belly with delight. 

Summer is well on its way to being flush with itself now. Katydids in the bushes outside whistle and burr, a raspy, percussive sound. Long strands of high cirrus clouds stretch across the clear blue sky. Spiders weave thick webs into the corners of the windows on the outside of the house, thin, filamentous strands of silk woven over each other until it’s a dense, compact web. Even the sound of the bees buzzing through the air sets you at ease. 

The sound of your husband’s laughter seems to carry all of that in it, all of the fat, flushed joy of summertime. 

“I might need a list of what to take care of around the house while you’re gone. I’ve never…I’ve never managed a house on my own before,” you say into your oatmeal, taking another bite.  

You don’t know why it embarrasses you to admit that. John may not know about your previous circumstances just yet—you’ve never divulged stories of your time working at the estate or the years you spent living with your aunt and uncle—but he must certainly have guessed by now that you didn’t own property back east. 

“The boys and I aren’t heading out from here; gotta meet them in town to settle a couple of things first, but that wouldn’t take too long.” He takes a long sip of coffee before continuing. “Planned on asking Soap to check on you a couple times while I’m gone. He could help with the chores.”

Your irritation flares up at that. You put down your spoon sharply, the metal clanging against the porcelain bowl. “Do you still think I’m going to run away?”

He cocks an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t respond.

“So nothing’s changed then, even after I’ve already apologized. You still don’t trust me,” you sigh, your appetite suddenly gone. You push the bowl away from you, taking a sip of coffee instead. 

John sighs. You glance down at his hands instead of looking up into his eyes. His hands are still lightly ink-stained from reading the paper. The ink imprints onto your hand when he pulls his chair in and reaches across the table to lace your fingers together. 

“You might just see my concern for what it is, instead of fighting me at every turn,” he drawls. 

“Suppose I should say thank you then. I really appreciate being kept under lock and key,” you deadpan.

“Oh, and I suppose you’ve done so much to prove that you’re the staying type?” he teases.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“By my count, you’ve tried to run off twice. You sayin’ you won’t go for three?”

You stay mulishly silent, again going cold instead of deigning to have a conversation with the man. Your hand pulls from his grasp when you go to clean the table, taking the plates with you to the sink to wash. The brisk scrub and rinse betrays your mood, your shoulders tense with displeasure. You feel his gaze heavy on you from where he still sits at the table. 

John catches you before you have a chance to skitter off, hooking an arm around your waist to reel you in. 

“I never get off easy with you, do I?” he murmurs. 

You harrumph, scrunching your nose when he nuzzles into the side of your head. Squawking when he plants a wet kiss there too. 

John sees you off at the door with a kiss to your lips and then one to your forehead. His farewell kiss always seems to linger, as though he were reluctant for it to ever end. A disconcerting ache in your belly follows his departure. More than anything, you wish he’d turn back around and come home. Instead, you’re forced to bite your tongue and watch him leave because there are things more important than your desperate, cloying need for attention from a man that you once swore you’d run away from if given half a chance.

Now, as you stare at the shadow of him disappearing beyond the horizon, you can barely force your feet to take you back into the house.

The ache is a perturbing reminder of the seeds of trust and affection you’ve planted here. Now, they’ve begun to sprout, the buds opening up to tender, fragrant flowers. Those are the thoughts that occupy your mind when you go into the garden to harvest the lettuce heads and tomatoes. You think about all of this while staring down into the garden that John started so very long ago and now you tend. The earth here yields in abundance, but it requires a sure hand, and it rewards your joint efforts with a harvest that’ll last you through the winter if properly cultivated. 

Part of you anticipates company, waiting for Kate or Soap to come down the path on horseback, but when hours pass and neither show up, you have to admit to yourself that perhaps John hasn’t left a guardian to watch over you this time. Your heart trips over itself at the thought.

Trust is a precious, easily spoiled gift. You know it is not given lightly, and you’ve not put in the effort to engender it in recent weeks. You wonder if John wrestled with the decision to leave you alone, weighing your hurt feelings against the assurance of keeping you at home and found the latter wanting for once. 

You spend the better part of the morning gardening and cleaning. It muffles the longing. It’s entirely antithetical to the way you waited for John during the train robbery, but the different circumstances have you less on edge. The situation doesn’t seem as precarious. Never free of trouble, of course, but John hadn’t seemed too worried at breakfast, so you tell yourself that you shouldn’t worry either.

In fact, finding some way to occupy yourself proves the greater challenge. You hadn’t realized how much you’d grown to expect the company of others. The silence swells to a bubble that you itch to burst. 

It takes a great deal of courage to talk yourself into riding Buttercup into town. You hold the reins so tight that your knuckles ache when you finally let go. Still, when the sun-bleached town comes into view and you no longer need to swat repeatedly at the horseflies pestering you, you celebrate the little victory. 

You find Kate in the saloon enjoying a little brandy with lunch. Her eyes crinkle at the sight of you. 

“Didn’t expect to see you here so soon,” she says when you take a seat across from her. 

“I couldn’t clean the house for a third time,” you shrug. 

It’s not an exaggeration. You spent the better part of the morning yesterday scrubbing the floors and sweeping the leaves and mud from the foyer, paying special attention to the caked mud on the sill, where John has a habit of wiping off his boots. You’ll have to remember to pick up a mat for the porch on the way back home. 

“You just missed my company so?” Kate teases.

You roll your eyes. “Who else do I have to talk to?”

“Well, don’t flatter me too much.”

“Anyway—no one, well…no one understands me…quite the same.” You speak evasively because you’re still too much of a coward to just say it outright. Nevertheless, Kate understands, and nods with a gleam in her eye that says as much. 

“Probably best to keep it that way.”

You don’t know why her words make your chest ache. For a beat, you keep silent, ordering a drink and a small meal for yourself from a passing waiter. 

“I’ve considered…telling John,” you start, a hesitant thread in your voice begging to be unraveled. 

Kate glances up at that. “Why would you do something like that?”

“I thought that maybe…well, maybe he might understand…if I explained the circumstances to him.” 

Her hand stills over her glass, face screwed up like she’s tasted something particularly unpleasant. “Seems like a dangerous game to play—risking your freedom on a maybe. It’s better to keep private matters just that. Private.”

Worry makes you wring your hands under the table. “You think he’d turn me in if he knew?”

Kate shrugs. “John’s a good man. He’s a good sheriff too. It’s a risky gambit. I can’t imagine what the trade off would be—I happened to find out by chance, but if you have the option to let buried dogs lie, I would take it.”

“Isn’t it ‘let sleeping dogs lie’?”

Her smile is not cruel, but it cuts. “Not in this case, hun. ‘Fraid we both know that.”

“Oh,” you murmur. 

Her lack of faith leaves you at a loss. It takes you so long to come to terms with it that by the time you open your mouth again, you’re halfway back to the shop, following her step for step. Dark clouds loom ominously off in the distance, just far enough away that you don’t expect for them to reach town for another hour or so, but the sight of them compounds the somber mood you’ve fallen into since Kate’s words. 

You don’t bring up the subject again until the rain begins to fall outside, slate grey like a gauzy veil. From the window, you peer down the street towards where Buttercup stands under the roof of the sheriff’s office, shielded from the rain. You stare morosely at the dirt ground; the rain will make walking anywhere after a hassle.

Kate must notice the general air of malcontent hovering around you because she apologizes to you when the ensuing silence from the morning’s conversation becomes unbearable. “Now, I don’t want you to think I hold John in poor esteem, hun. He’s a good man; I have no reason to think he’d ever turn you in for putting down the man that tried to…well, the man that tried to do you harm. I just don’t want you to regret your decision if I’m wrong.”

You shrug, bad mood not in the least assuaged. “It’s fine. It was a foolish idea. Why invite trouble when I’ve escaped it thus far?”

She doesn’t seem reassured at that. If anything, her scowl deepens. Instead of addressing it, you offer to help clean the shop, sweeping the back room and dusting the shelves. There are items on the shelves that look like they haven’t been touched in years, and you wonder whether Kate holds onto things after they’ve outlived their usefulness out of habit or an unwillingness to part with them. Then you shake your head of the thought. It shouldn’t matter to you. 

Around midafternoon, a few trappers come in to stock up on supplies and spend the better part of an hour talking to Kate. You flatten your lips together to keep from cursing them out for tracking in mud and rain with them, but they studiously avoid looking at you. 

“Morning, Mrs. Price,” one of them says, still keeping their gaze politely trained on the floor. 

You roll your eyes internally. Not surprising that news would spread eventually of John’s new wife. 

The conversation is of little interest to you, but you eavesdrop anyway because the rain hasn’t relented yet and there’s little else to do. Most of their conversation goes over your head, but some parts stick out. They tell her about a mutual acquaintance waylaid by a mountain slide up north forcing them to take another route home, and another who’d recently perished of consumption. Kate seems particularly upset by that, the lines around her mouth more pronounced than ever when she offers her condolences. 

They stay until the rain lets up and then say their goodbyes before heading out. 

“G’day, Mrs. Price,” the same one says to you before departing. 

You smile bemusedly at the door. “I don’t suppose I’ve met either of them before and don’t remember it?”

Kate shakes her head. “Unlikely. Alex and Frank spend most of their time up north hunting and fur trapping. One of them has a cousin in town, but they visit only seldomly. It’s been a year or so since I last saw either of them.”

“Then how’d they know who I am?”

“Well, I imagine they probably read about it.”

“Read about it?” you repeat confusedly. 

“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”

That unnerves you. Somehow, you thought you might fold into history like you’d always been there, but a marriage announcement in a newspaper punctuates the present. Your only reassurance is that the story ran over a month ago and therefore of little interest to anyone these days, at least from what Kate tells you; overshadowed by subsequent issues and stories. Old news, she tells you.

“What’s new news then?”

She ponders that for a bit. “Aside from what Frank mentioned? Hm…Farmer Shepherd’s ewe had a lamb the other night.” 

“Who’s that?”

“A farmer, I reckon.”

You deadpan. “Funny.”

She laughs at that, a husky, amber sound. “Shepherd’s got a farm in the next town over. Kyle and I always stop to buy mutton whenever we’re in town.”

“Oh, that’s right, you were just there recently. Do you visit that often?”

“From time to time,” she says, vague enough to pique your interest.

“Must be good mutton.”

She snorts. “He’s not as good a butcher as Simon, but he’s alright. It’s worth stopping by. I wouldn’t call it a reason to make the journey though.”  

“Then why do you go?”

She smiles a bit wistfully. “I have…a friend in town. It’s worth the trek.”

“Oh. A… male friend?” 

You say the word tentatively, gauging her reaction in case you’ve overstepped. Usually you wouldn’t be so inquisitive. In fact, you’ve made it a habit to know as little about the people you keep company with as possible. But Kate is different. This place is different. Time in this town moves at a slower pace, and it swells in the moments where it seems endless. It makes you talk slower, chew the fat. You spend so much time around these people that it almost feels like a lifetime has passed in their presence. You feel close enough these days that asking doesn’t feel as forbidden as it used to.

“No. Not a man.” 

It could mean nothing at all, but her words have just enough inflection in them that you can't help but meet her gaze. 

“A woman?” you ask, caught between embarrassment at having to ask and curiosity. 

She nods, her smile strained. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. 

You can’t really think of what else to say in response to that revelation, but leaving it like that also feels wrong. It’s nothing you haven’t heard whisperings of before. Boston marriages. Sentimental friends. Spinsters cohabitating in virtuous friendship. It’s perhaps only shocking to finally put a face to the rumors. 

“Well, that’s nice,” you say after another awkward pause. Kate rolls her eyes and her nonchalance vexes you. “What? It is!”

“You don’t need to get all twisted up. It is what it is. There’s no need to go making a fuss about it.”

You frown at that. “I would never.” Then something dawns on you. “Have other people made a fuss before?”

“…A few,” she answers, looking troubled when old memories flicker behind her eyelids. “A long time ago, in another place, but when I…well, I trusted more. There’s no one that could make a fuss about it these days.”

“But surely Kyle knows? He accompanied you to town last time.”

“Kyle does not know.”

“Then why tell me?” you ask, dumbfounded. 

She holds you in her gaze for a few moments at that question, then comes out from behind the counter where her notebook still lies open, a thin strip of fabric acting as a bookmark. 

“You have your secrets and I have mine,” Kate says, leaning back against the counter and clasping her hands loosely in front of her. “The same reason I won’t tell John what you’re running from. The less people that know the things that could hurt you, the safer you are.” 

“You think John would do what—run you out of town if he knew?” you ask, hardly able to convey your disbelief.

“The point is that neither of us know until the very moment when it matters most.”

“But that’s not John,” you stress. 

“It’s the same John that you won’t trust with your secrets either.” And that strikes true. It dumbs you into silence, mouth opening uselessly for words that don’t come. The battering behind your lips like an inch of give, opening then to silence across the open plain.

You want desperately to say something that just won’t come. But how can you say anything at all these days? How does your voice not give out at the slightest quiver of emotion? You speak with a voice plump like fig skin, easy give, and violet bruised. It is always tender when you bite it through.

When Kate notices the way you struggle for words, she takes pity on you, her smile more sympathetic than you’ve ever seen it. “Enough about that though. What say we get you something to eat before you head home?”

When the path of least resistance beckons you forth, you run towards it. 

Your troubled conscience persists however, speaking into your ear even as the first shaft of sunlight pierces through the slate clouds and illuminates the town in a soft glow. It troubles you so fiercely that all you can think about is retreating home and burying yourself under the warm quilt draped over your bed. It has you hastening to say your goodbyes, excusing yourself on the basis of taking Buttercup home. 

Bidding Kate farewell, you step out of the shop to see that the rain has cleared. Everything after that dispels into the thinly perfumed air.

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Stealing 'em off the Jobsite

You're fed up! Those goddamn construction workers have been across the street for weeks now, and they haven't erected anything (aside from the pole in your pants). Your eyes have studied the collection of sweaty bodies each day, always sad when they pack up and leave.

It's determined. Tonight, things will change. Tonight, they'll be coming home with you...

All it takes is a glance at your newly acquired, hypnotic pocket watch: a family heirloom.

Your grandfather probably didn't think you'd be using his most powerful artifact for this, but he's not here to witness the control you exert over the crew. They may laugh at first, but their eyes quickly glaze over the second they actually look at the thing swinging overhead. Their grins falter as the tendons in their face slacken. They're relaxing, just like you commanded them to.

Suddenly, those big muscular men don't seem so cocky and masculine. Their typical swagger is replaced by something else; something more subdued, more bovine, dumb.

You did that to them. You caught them right before they left the job site and flashed that magical pocket watch in their faces. Now they all stand before you like a herd of dumb work animals. It's an unbelievable site: grown men that are reduced to loyal dogs, patiently awaiting the commands of their master. Who are you to keep them waiting?

You order them to follow...

They're good at following the instruction, even if it's just a simple one. The construction workers fumble down the street behind you, grunting and pushing their way past each other like a bunch of braindead zombies. You know they're tired. The sweat of a long day is soaking through most of their clothes, but you rather enjoy knowing how weak their big arms and meaty pecs have become.

Normally, men like this are rowdy and obnoxious, but right now their jaws only hang stupidly. The occasional moan can be heard deep in their throats, but more often comes the unmistakeable sound of gas from their rears. After all, you did tell them to relax, and that command seems to have loosened up their insides as well. More than a few wet farts can be heard in the crowd, but none of them react. Some of the noises are gross enough to suggest they've even shit themselves, not that filling their pants with crap will stop them from mindlessly following you home.

It's almost comical to see how oblivious they've become, but that blank look on their face is getting old. Their heavy slick bodies are hot, but so are their chauvinistic bro attitudes.

Finally at your house, you order them to grab a beer, smile, and file inside for the party...

Watching the crew of hardened laborers snap out of the trance is eclipsed only by the dumb smile that breaks on each of their masculine faces. Just like that, they're beaming at you, treating you like their best bud and slapping you on the back. Can you remember the last time you were at a party, let alone a party full of grizzled blue-collar workers?

Per your instructions, they haul the booze and speakers down the stairs into the basement. They're only too happy to help, and they get even more excited when you tell them to.

Their eyes pop open wider. Any fatigue from the long workday is replaced with a sudden urge to chug a beer and chest bump the guy next to them. The music is turned up louder than the growing volume of the men joking, laughing, and shit-talking with their gravelly bass and baritone voices.

The testosterone is almost unbearable. You can smell the thick funk of body odor mixing in the humid air. You can even taste the salt evaporating off their skin. But, even more exciting, you can feel any inch of them you want. Diving into the bodies packed tightly together, don't hesitate to touch, sniff, and lick anything you want. The men are lost in a euphoria of moving to the music. They only grin when they find you below, slobbering over their muscle tits or fondling their swollen packages.

They sure as hell wouldn't allow this if you hadn't hypnotized them first. You made them eager to accept an intrusive finger down the back of their work pants. With a little more coaching, they've become even more comfortable around their master...

Your wish is their command, so they relax into each other's arms when you tell them to. They've already been told to relax so much that it hardly takes any effort. Before you know it, the men's bodies are being pulled in close embraces with casual smirks. These macho builders don't mind their colleagues getting all up in their personal space, no matter how intimate it gets.

The first pair brave enough to obey seems happy they did so. The hug turns into a more aggressive groping until the larger of the two rips off his partner's ratty old tank top.

This party's starting to look more like an orgy...

The men are happy with this new direction, mostly because you told them to be. Some of them partner up, greedily grabbing their closest bro at work. It's hard to imagine these guys were ever a platonic, straight work crew.

Some of them probably would've gone home to their families tonight, but these fathers and husbands are yours at the moment. You'll let their wives fuss over tucking the kids in. If you can take away all cares from these men with one simple glance at a pocket watch, then why should you care about their families.

All you need to worry about, is choosing which filthy laborer to break in first...

The Foreman. He's on the far end of the basement, but the boys obediently squeeze their beefy bodies together to give you a path.

He might be the big boss on the job site, but the handsome brute drops to his knees with one word from his master. That dopey smile on his face says just how much this bitch wants to please you, and his workers couldn't agree more. Noticing your lust for their boss, they start egging him on, telling him to be a good boy for the master, encouraging him to be the best slut you've ever had.

You command the Foreman to open his mouth. He does so gleefully and accepts your cock surprisingly well. You can feel how relaxed his throat has become.

With that, the orgy of construction workers is officially kicked off! Your commands begin simple enough, telling who to bend over and who to ram it in, but they become more involved as you gain confidence. You tell the men to moan like two-cent whores, and the whole room echoes with deep manly growls. At one point, you instruct everyone to form a line and jerk off onto the Foreman's face, leaving it smothered with the cum of thirty men. Later, you order them all to lower their pants and touch their toes so you can find the hottest ass to peg. Hours go by as you test the limits of your control over these men.

Eventually, around four in the morning, you are drunk, tired, and sore in the balls. Three of the strongest men are still up to massage your shoulders and each foot, but the rest lay on the concrete floor, using each other's bodies as pillows. You fall asleep to the sound of gruff laborers randomly muttering compliments or praise to you, their master.

Just like you told them...

You wake up, and they're still taking turns to commend you. The three blokes massaging you seem ready to collapse from the fatigue.

With a simple order, everyone stops.

You leave them kneeling in the basement, packed together as efficiently as possible. It'd be nice to keep using them, but you have to go upstairs and heal from the hangover.

Before you flip the light off, you take one more look. The construction workers seem totally oblivious to the fact that you're leaving them down there to wait on their knees in the dark. From the looks on their faces, this would seem completely normal to them. Chuckling, you slip the door shut and move on with the day.

Who knows when you'll flip that light switch back on next? Until then, they'll be patiently kneeling in the dark, listening to the sound of thirty bodies breathing around them.

So, what are you gonna do with them? Return them to their old lives of physical labor and unchecked masculinity? Their wives and kids would probably thank you for that. Or maybe you'll have them cut off whatever friends or family they had before? Turn them into true workslaves that are only interested in bringing you the checks they suffer for? That would definitely be a rewarding financial endeavor. For now you'll just leave them to wait in your basement.

After all, you stole them fair and square...

[astrstqr]

☆˙˖ DESIRED REALITY !

things i script for my modern dr. lmk if you want more

⬭ racism, homophobia, ableism, transphobia, islamophobia, anti semitism, misogyny, global warming, climate change, overconsumption, overpopulation, deforestation, habitat destruction etc., used to exist, however they currently do not and will never suffer from them again.

⬭ everyone is treated equal

⬭ no “pro-life”

⬭ people are allowed to have abortions no matter what age they are

⬭ women products are free such as pads/tampons and birth control

⬭ everyone is educated on problems happening around the world

⬭ health care is free

⬭ natives are seen as the founders of America

⬭ south, west, southeast, & central Asians are seen too + people know Asia is not just the east

⬭ having guns are illegal unless your job requires you to have one and there is no other way to get a gun

⬭ periods last a day and are very light

⬭ covid-19 doesn’t exist

⬭ plastic surgery is normalized , isnt look down on but people rarely gets it unless necessary

⬭ children of any age are not sexualized in any form or shape

⬭ in public bathrooms the toilet is always clean, people don't knock on the stall you are in, there is always toilet paper, always soap and a hand dryer

⬭ the Chinese government isn't so harsh & gives the citizens freedom

⬭ people of color’s cultures are RESPECTED, & not appropriated

⬭ foster care takes treats kids nicely

⬭ nobody harms animals and kill shelters are not a thing

⬭ all country leaders are good and honest people

⬭ human trafficking does not exist

⬭ the government never watches you through your phone

⬭ trump never ran for president

⬭ no world hungers

⬭ no one is homeless, and everyone has a home

⬭ world peace

⬭ women and men are equal

⬭ it’s easy for people to make money

⬭ all sickness has a cure

⬭ bullying does not exist

⬭ black history and pride month still exist

⬭ the government isn't greedy and take care of their people

⬭ every country has money, food, isnt poor, etc. etc.

⬭ no toxic parenting

⬭ the Sewol ferry never had an accident

⬭ school shooting doesn’t exist

⬭ minimum wage is $15-$20 an hour

⬭ crimes are punished with justice in mind

⬭ history is recorded correctly

⬭ people can start driving at 15

⬭ Korea is not conservative

⬭ Korea doesn’t have an unrealistic beauty standard

⬭ Korea never divided, it is united and free. But south of korea is like the city part and the north is like rural part

⬭ pollution does not exist

⬭ earth air is clean and easy to breathe no matter where you are

⬭ no acid rain, urban sprawl, ozone layer depletion

⬭ allergies do not exist

⬭ the world is more colorful and not dull looking

⬭ coral reef still has it color

⬭ no water in unwanted places

⬭ grass is always green

⬭ if the population increases the planet gets bigger to produce resources to accommodate the growing population. it doesnt effect the mass of the earth or the gravitational pull

⬭ global warming doesn't exist

⬭ humidity doesn't ruin hair

⬭ the library of alexandria was never destroyed

⬭ apple pencils work on iPhone

⬭ everything is wireless, and nothing needs a cord

⬭ line is always short in stores and restaurants

⬭ buildings and renovating don’t take longer than a wee

⬭ you can book a hotel with being 18 or older

⬭ traffic is always fine

⬭ netflix have more of a large selection of things and dont remove shows/add shows no one wants

⬭ spotify is free

⬭ the switch have a web browser

⬭ tv companies still make tv shows similar to the 2000s and early 2010s , just updated to keep up with the times

⬭ the sims franchise lore is linear throughout the series

the open world features from sims 3 is still present in sims 4

sims 4 is like an updated and better version of sims 3 keeping all the features from the sims 3 (still including everything that is already in sims 4)

non of the games have bugs

every expansion pack etc is just added to the game as an update and no one has to pay for it

⬭ cheap jewelry doesnt tarnish

⬭ washer/dryer cycles are 15 mins

⬭ in the show dancing dolls everyone was treated equally and was never fake to each other.

⬭ people actually do the theme for the met gala and it’s always unique

୨୧⠀˙⠀⠀˖⠀ world aesthetic & vibe

[xxventiswindblumexx]

Here I am. Do not hold back. Write the filthiest Dom! Tighnari in heat smut that you can. Forest chase, aphrodisiacs, primal urge, marking, knotting, choking. Go absolutely ham.

Of course! Sorry it took so long to get this one out! But I hope you enjoy my Smut Soulmate ❤

⚠Warnings:⚠Predator and Prey, Marking, Breeding, Knotting, Choking, Aphrodisiac usage, Hate fuck, Dubcon/Noncon.

You where a forest ranger, you where decent but not near as good as your superior Tighnari and you hated that. He was kind but comes off as cocky a lot especially with you.

You two have been arguing and always fighting anytime he corrected you, couldn't he just let you be? Well luckily you might get just that, the two months he hides away is coming up, it starts in a day and you'll finally have two months of peace.

During his last day the two of you where bickering as usual, you where supposed to survey parts of the forest but you missed some areas and according to Tighnari they where 'the most important area's' and if you hadn’t found the spot by sunrise tomorrow then ‘it wouldn’t make sense to go through it again tomorrow, so you must do it today’. You tried protesting but it only resulted in him huffing and walking back to his hut giving you no room to argue anymore. Great just how you wanted to spend your night, in the dark forest.

You packed what you needed and headed out that night, frustrated and annoyed but vigilant, you couldn't mess up again after all no matter how much you despised him he's still your superior.

Meanwhile at his hut Tighnari was pacing back and fourth biting his knuckles. He knew his rut was starting soon and he was very anxious on it, it always came so suddenly, no matter how much he prepared he was truly never prepared for it.

The thought of losing himself in his rut made him anxious. It was like a parasite in his mind, slowly taking over his thoughts. His brain kept telling him it wasn't going to happen, that he would be strong enough to suppress it, he had control. However it was never enough, so he always stayed in his hut during it, it wasn't too bad until you came around. He hated to admit it but his instincts wanted you, everything about you was perfect, well almost everything. He hated how you retaliated against him, to his animal side it was a sign of dominance and it was very degrading to him that this female he wanted as a mate kept trying to over throw him, he couldn't have that, but he also didn't want to admit he liked you. So he hid it under aggression, even when he was calm.

So tonight before you left to go on patrol he slipped some aphrodisiacs in your water bottles, if he must suffer this lust so should you.

It was late when his rut hit him like a ton of bricks, it wasn't something he could ever ease into, it always hits him at once.

He's on his bed rutting into his pillow, he couldn't get enough, he kept thinking of you, it didn't help the paperwork from your sloppy survey was scented by you. He got annoyed and stood up, he couldn't stop it anymore he needed you. He didn't even bother to put anything on, only wearing boxers. Tonight was the new moon so the area would be pitch black, hiding him well.

Back to you, after drinking almost all your water as you used a flashlight to look around, you noticed yours starting to feel hot, thinking maybe it's just humid you pull off your jacket leaving you in a tank top. But it didn't help, your body was reacting to something but as you looked around none of the flora or mushrooms should have any effects like this. Arousal bubbling in your stomach as you felt a bit dizzy, you continue to walk trying to find your way home as the dizziness made it more difficult.

"You don't look so good, maybe you should let me help" you heard his voice though it didn't seem like him at all. You turn to see Tighnari, well kinda it's hard to see but his green brown eyes shined fairly easily. They're hazed over with lust his voice also spoke of it.

"Tighnari.. i-i don't know what's g-going on its like some flora-"

"I'll give you one minute to run, after that I won't show any mercy to you or your soft body" he spoke as he looked down on you, it was like a predator looking at his pray, drool slightly gathering at the corner of his lips, picking them as he watched.

"But Tighnari-" interrupted again as he started to count down, realizing he was serious you turn and make a run for it, however it was hard to run with your head and body in another place, the dizziness making it hard not to run into something as your legs felt weak, but you continued.

Tighnari followed you but in a walk, he didn't need to run, your arousal was enough of a trail for him to find you easily, that and you weren't that quiet either as you ran. His tail swishing back and fourth eagerly as his ears twitched to every little sound you made.

Though you had more stamina when it came to running then he thought, annoyed it's taking longer he used his Dendro vision to create a root below you, causing you to fall over.

"Too bad you didn't survey the area huh? You would've known of these roots being everywhere" he scoffed, even though he did create this one, it was merely an extension to an already existing root.

You reached out trying to crawl away but was stopped as soon as you felt his body against yours, more roots gathering around your wrists to hold them still as his hands start to pull your clothing off, his claws tearing at them easily. You whine and squirm under him, only causing him to become more aroused if possible "You're not helping your case, then again when do you ever do anything right? " he scolds and degrades as he nuzzled into your neck, licking and biting at spots until he found your sensitive spot, causing you to let out a moan, his tail swaying faster at your response.

His hand traveled upwards slowly to stroke along your skin and he started moving his tongue up against your throat, lapping at your tender flesh. Your breathing grew heavier at the sensation and you tried to fight it but were unable, Tighnari started kissing your jawline and ear lobe and you let your head hang to the side.

He soon grew more impatient as his he wanted to make you his, he couldn't wait as you felt his tip press against your hole

"T-Tighnari wait!" you whined in protest yet he didn't pay any mind slamming himself into you, a low growl leaving his throat as his clawed hands grip your hips, his snapped into yours over and over, causing his claws to leave red streaks behind. With each shove he felt himself getting closer to his goal as his mouth latched on to your neck, teeth grazing the soft skin there as you squirmed under him.

Your hands clawing the dirt and vines holding them, your body felt closer to a release, as much as you tried to hold back you couldn't, his hand holding your throat tightly as he groaned, feeling your walls clamp against his cock, causing him to feel his release coming quickly. As he moaned loudly you couldn't help it, you were about to cum as your whole body tensed up, letting out a scream that you instantly regretted as your back arched as your climax washed over you with force, Tighnari bit your shoulder leaving his mark as you felt his knot swell, shoving it into as far as he could, filling your womb with his seed.

Once you calmed down he laid there panting and moaning,his knot finally going down, his claws digging into your arms which you could now see were covered in red welts. "I'm not finished yet" he said in a dark tone as he slammed himself back in "by the time the sun rises I'll make sure you take, you'll be so full of my pups" His hand grazing your stomach as he picked his speed up once more. Your body spasm as you couldn't stay awake, slowly passing out, feeling that he wasn't slowing down.

[flowerishness]

Hymenocallis (spider lily)

Spider lilies are another tropical plant that wouldn't exist in Vancouver's cooler climate were it not for the efforts of the folks at the Bloedel Conservatory. I proposed to Mrs. Flowerishness in the Temperate House at Kew Gardens and I have seen many glass houses in my time. The Bloedel is typical of these places. Temperature and humidity-controlled, for sure, but if you pay close attention, there's something missing. Where are the tropical insects?

On the Saturday I visited the Bloedel Conservatory, it was packed with tourists. I have carefully edited-out the people to give you the impression that I had the place all to myself. This glass house is also full of parrots and lovebirds flying around, one of which left a lovely, white calling card on my black t-shirt. However, somehow the Bloedel seems to have edited-out the entire insect population.

I can see the Bloedel Conservatory's side of the story. When you take your kids to a major tourist attraction, you don't want to be worried about bloodsucking ticks or life-threatening mosquito bites. However, it does underline the strange feeling you get in this Disneyland of tropical flowers. It looks like reality but it's not. The Bloedel is quite like a tropical rainforest but I think it's missing that essential buzz.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Friendcation (m) | myg | four

It’s the last weeks of the vacation being just you and Yoongi, and you’re going to savor every last bit of it. You do some hiking, relaxing and discover new sides to yourself that you didn’t know existed.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female) → Other characters: Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin. → Genre/AU: best friends to friends with benefits to lovers, non idol!au, camping!au, roadtrip!au, mechanic!Yoongi, humor, slight angst, smut and fluff → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (This is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 → Status: completed! → Word Count: 17,7K (wooops!) → Warnings: smut; exhibitionism, voyeurism, period sex (period blood, but not in too much detail), period cramps, protected sex, unprotected sex, oral (male receiving), handjob, nipple/breast play. → Author’s note: I’m sorry this took longer to post than the previous chapters 🙇 And I’m currently still outlining ch 5 🫥 Moving is harder than anticipated, but we are almost completely settled in, and I began writing again yesterday, so that’s good 🙂It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there.

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

The calendar has ticked its way to the end of August, but Mother Nature seemed to be playing a capricious game with the weather. Just when you thought the days would be getting cooler, a sweltering heat wave envelopes the surroundings, and the sun bears down with relentless intensity. It was as though the weather had a mischievous mind of its own, teasingly extending the summer season.

The unforgiving heat was taking its toll on you. Your body, once energized by the adventures of summer, now ached from the relentless rays and the humidity that clung to your skin.

Agony surges through you, and an involuntary whimper escaping your lips, “Fuck it hurts!”

Clutching your stomach, you feel utterly helpless, as if the pain has taken control of your very being. Yoongi’s concerned gaze never left your face, and you can see the worry etched in his features. 

In that moment, his presence was a balm to your suffering. He leans in closer, his hand moving to stroke your hips in a soothing, rhythmic motion. His voice, a gentle murmur, reaching your ears like a lifeline in the darkness of your pain.

“Can I do anything to help?” 

He asked, his eyes searching yours, as if willing your agony to ebb away. It was a simple question, but in that moment, it held the power to offer you some respite from the torment.

Your frustration knew no bounds as you cursed your forgetfulness. It was a recurring issue, the way your period always seemed to sneak up on you when you least expected it, catching you off guard. The fact that you had irregular periods only added to the challenge, and this time, it had left you utterly unprepared. 

In the midst of your aggravation, you realize you have forgotten to pack any pads or even tampons. Panic starts to creep in as you consider the inconvenience of the situation. It’s a moment that made you wish you had been more vigilant and prepared for this inevitable occurrence.

Your voice, tinged with frustration, anger, and the ache of cramps, sounds like a desperate plea as you confess, “I forgot to pack pads and pain meds.” 

Your words hang heavily in the air, a stark reminder of your discomfort. In that moment, his eyes soften with genuine concern. He can see the pain etched across your face, and it pains him too, knowing he can’t bear the discomfort for you. 

“I can get those for you,” he offers earnestly, his desire to help you clear in his eyes. He can’t stand to see you in such distress; it tugs at his heartstrings.

“You don’t have to, Yoongi,” you insist, your voice trembling slightly as you inhale sharply, a fresh wave of cramps seizing your body. 

Despite your attempt to maintain your independence, you can’t hide the pain in your voice. It was clear that you were struggling, and he couldn’t stand by and do nothing while you suffered. Your words are laced with concern as Yoongi gazes at you, his eyes reflecting his genuine worry. Seeing you in such pain was breaking his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to alleviate your suffering.

“I know you can do it yourself,” he begins, his voice filled with tenderness, “but please, let me take care of you, babe. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.” 

His genuine desire to help you was evident in his eyes and in the way his hand continued to gently stroke your hip in a soothing manner.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you relent, feeling grateful for Yoongi’s caring nature. “Okay, thank you,” you whisper, realizing that sometimes, accepting help was a way to strengthen your friendship, and in this moment, it means the world to you.

With a tender nod, Yoongi steps out of the van. 

“Okay. I’ll be back in an hour or so,” he reassures you, genuine concern still etched across his features. “I hope the pain won’t get worse,” he adds softly before closing the door behind him, leaving you in the temporary solitude of Holly.

Yoongi walks to the nearest store, the warm sun beating down on him during the 20-minute stroll in the early afternoon. Upon entering, he makes a beeline for the section with sanitary products and picks up some pads. As he stands there, he wonders if you use tampons but decides against them.

Then, an idea crosses his mind. He grabs his phone and texts his sister, seeking advice on what other items would be helpful for a woman on her period.

Yoongi [15:35]: I need your help, big sis 🆘

Sis [15:37]: What do you need help with? 😏

Yoongi [15:40]: ___ is on her period, bad cramps. I’m buying her pads and meds. Should I get her something else? What do women want on their period? 🤷

Sis [15:44]: Omg. You are the sweetest! 🥹 Buy her some dark chocolate and chips, I’m sure she’ll appreciate that. I’ll swing by with dinner for you two later 😉

Yoongi swiftly collects the items his sister suggested and makes his way back to the van, a sense of urgency and care propelling his every step.

As Yoongi returns, your face lights up with a mixture of gratitude and relief as you take in the thoughtful array of items he’s brought. 

“Wow, you didn’t have to get all that, Yoongi. Thank you so much,” you exclaim with genuine appreciation, reaching eagerly for the chocolate he purchased.

Yoongi offers you the rest of the items he bought, mentioning his sister’s involvement. 

You raise an eyebrow in surprise and then burst into laughter at his confession. “You actually told her I was on my period?” you chuckle, finding the situation rather amusing. He nods, a bit apprehensive, and adds, “She’s coming by later with dinner for us.” 

You respond with a contented nod, “She’s a thoughtful sister; I wish I had one like her.” You reach for one of the packs of pads, appreciating both Yoongi’s and his sister’s considerate gestures.

You dig into one of your bags and retrieve a fresh pair of panties, relieved to replace the ones you’re currently wearing, which have become uncomfortably soaked — and definitely not with the kind of fluid you prefer.

As Yoongi’s sister arrives, the tantalizing aroma of the food nearly drives you to drool, and you can’t thank her enough for the comforting, warm meal. While you enjoy the delicious dishes in the comfort of your bed, Yoongi takes a seat outside on one of the stools.

“You know what can really help with those cramps?” Yoongi’s sister inquires, her eyes filled with genuine concern. Exhausted from the pain and with the medication not having taken effect yet, you simply shake your head without giving it much thought.

“Sex.” 

She smirks, deliberately saying it loud enough for Yoongi to overhear, then winks at you. Your face flushes crimson, because yes, you’ve considered that option. You’ve even attempted it before in your early twenties, and remember that it can get incredibly messy.

Yoongi, sitting just outside the van, lets out an audible groan. “Aish, don’t say that,” he grumbles, clearly uncomfortable with his sister’s candid remarks. Her teasing seems to have gotten under his skin.

“I’m serious. It helps!” she insists, her tone filled with confidence as she tries to emphasize her point.

“Omg, I don’t want to imagine that,” Yoongi groans again, feigning agony. “I think the pregnancy is making you... horny,” Yoongi adds with a chuckle. 

“True,” she breathes out, her chuckle playful. “But I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” she continues, her gaze shifting from you to Yoongi. You blush and smile, while Yoongi just shrugs, a faint blush tingeing his cheeks.

“God! Something has already happened!” 

She shrieks with delight and jumps out of the van to playfully shove Yoongi on his shoulder. “Don’t mess it up, I like her,” she says with a teasing grin, her eyes warm with affection.

“I’ll leave you two alone then,” she smiles and winks at Yoongi. You catch a glimpse of him rolling his eyes at her, but it’s clear their sibling bond is filled with affectionate banter that warms your heart.

As you lie together, wrapped in his comforting embrace, his hand gently caressing your hair and resting on your tummy, your thoughts begin to race. The warmth of his body pressed against yours stirs desire within you, and your mind inevitably wanders to thoughts of intimacy with him.

With your bodies pressed closely together, you can’t help but let your desire take over. 

You subtly grind your hips against his, eliciting a low groan from him. His grip on your hip tightens as he buries his head in your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. You turn to face him, your eyes locking with his as you broach the topic of period sex.

“How do you feel about period sex, like your sister suggested?” 

You ask, searching his gaze for a sign of his willingness. He groans softly, his fingers tightening their hold on your hip. “Babe, please don’t mention my sister and sex in the same sentence,” he responds with a chuckle. “My boner will go away if you do that.”

As you press into him, you can feel his arousal growing against your back, and it sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. 

You playfully tease him, asking for his thoughts on the matter, and he responds with affectionate reassurance. “If you think it’ll help with the pain, sure,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your neck with tenderness, “I’d never say no to you, sweetheart.”

With a mischievous smile, you express your eagerness, “It will definitely give me something else to focus on.” You continue to search his eyes, your own filled with desire, and then you turn your body fully around to face him, closing the distance between you.

Your kiss is filled with fervor, driven by the anticipation of his touch and the idea of him fucking you in a moment, despite the messiness that may follow. The intensity between you two deepens with each passing second, as you both succumb to your passionate desires.

Your fingers trace the outline of his already throbbing dick through the fabric of his sweatpants, coaxing a delicious, guttural moan to escape his lips. The sensation of his heat and hardness in your hand ignites a thrilling craving within you, intensifying the desire that courses through your veins.

With eager anticipation, you seize the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers, revealing his taut cock. It springs free, proudly standing at attention, and your eyes gleam with hunger as you wet your lips in anticipation. 

Casting his discarded garments to the floor, you then gracefully lower yourself to your knees, positioning yourself before him, ready to devour him.

His longing gaze locks onto yours, aflame with desire, and he leans in to capture your lips in a tender, yearning kiss. 

As your mouths meld together, your hand instinctively finds its way to his dick, your fingers enveloping it in a sensual caress. 

His moans of pleasure reverberate through your mouth, a symphony of desire that resonates deep within you. The intoxicating sounds he makes serve as a powerful aphrodisiac, stoking the flames of your desire.

With a few more tantalizing strokes, you draw your lips away from his, leaving a trail of burning kisses along his clothed chest and abdomen. 

Moving gracefully, you position yourself on all fours above his throbbing length, the air charged with anticipation. His eyes are locked on you, dark with desire, his breaths growing more ragged with each passing second.

You gaze up at him, your sultry eyes locking onto his, a mischievous glint dancing within them. 

“You know,” you purr, your voice dripping with desire, “you have a very beautiful dick.” 

You tease him, letting your tongue playfully out between your lips. Your warm, wet tongue glides sensually from the base of his pulsating cock to the very tip, capturing the glistening bead of precum that had formed there. 

The taste and sensation of your tongue against his sensitive flesh sends shivers of pleasure sourcing through his body, and a low, guttural moan escapes his lips. 

He inhales sharply, a hiss escaping his lips, as you continue to tease and tantalize his dick with your skilled tongue. 

His head falls back slightly, his eyes squeezed shut, and his grip on the bed sheets tightens. A deep, sultry moan reverberates through the van, filling the air with the heady scent of desire and lust. 

Your every movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through him, and he’s utterly captivated by the sensations you’re evoking.

You continue to work your magic, your mouth finally enveloping him with a voracious hunger that leaves him trembling. 

His fingers tangle in your hair, a mixture of gentle guidance and unbridled passion, as he can’t help but lose himself in the exquisite sensations coursing through him. Every wet, sultry suck sends waves of pleasure rippling down his spine, and he finds himself already teetering on the edge. 

His breath hitches, his hips instinctively shifting to meet your mouth, as he moans your name in a fervent plea for more.

As you maintain your relentless rhythm, the urgency in the van heightens. Your hand expertly complements the actions of your mouth, ensuring that no inch of his dick goes unattended. You can feel his breath hitching, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. 

The way his head falls back, exposing the long line of his throat, his half-lidded eyes, lost in a daze of pure pleasure, and the soft sinful sounds escaping his lips fuel your determination to bring him all the pleasure you can. 

It spurs you on, and you relax your throat, as you go all the way down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. Then you hold still and breathe in through your nose, as you hollow your cheeks. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi moans as he closes his eyes for a moment.

Once more, you go back up, and down again, your movement in rhythm with the slurping noises that fill the van. As the intoxicating sounds envelop you, you can feel a flood of arousal pooling between your legs, your initial cramps now a distant memory.

Saliva glistens at the corner of your mouth, tracing a sensual path down his shaft to his balls. Yoongi’s gentle hand cups your cheek, his voice a passionate whisper, “You’re doing perfectly, babe,” he confesses, his desire palpable. 

“But I’m close, I want to fuck you now.” His touch tenderly lifts your face to his, claiming your lips in a fervent kiss, the taste of himself evident.

With a smoldering intensity still in your eyes, you gasp for breath, your voice a sultry whisper, “Do you have any dark towels?” Yoongi nods, his understanding swift as he retrieves a stack of dark towels and a packet of condoms from one of the cabinets, anticipation lingering thick in the air. 

With a silent and fervent agreement, Yoongi gestures for you to shift, giving him space to prepare. He deftly lays one of the dark towels on the bed, his movements quick and precise, while he casually tosses the other one within arm’s reach.

“Come here,” his voice is a seductive murmur, and his lips capture yours once more. 

“Let me ease your pain.” 

His breathy words send shivers down your spine, igniting an irresistible craving that drowns out any trace of discomfort.

With every piece of clothing that falls to the floor, the anticipation in the van builds like a crescendo. He undresses you slowly, savoring the unveiling of your body, and his gaze, filled with raw desire, leaves no doubt about his intentions. 

As he sheds his own shirt and gently lowers you onto the towel, the air becomes electric with the promise of what’s to come.

With your legs gently parted, he admires the intimate canvas before him, his voice a sultry whisper as he caresses your quivering thighs. “You’re absolutely breathtaking,” he murmurs, his words igniting a fiery desire that courses through your veins, intensifying the anticipation of his touch.

He wraps his fingers around his cock, teasing it a few times before skillfully unrolling the condom onto it.  

As he prods at your entrance, a tantalizing mix of pleasure and pain courses through you, intensifying the sensation as he gradually inches deeper inside. 

Your slickness acts as a natural lubricant, allowing him to slip into you with an arousing ease that leaves you gasping for more. The stretching sensation, though initially intense, begins to meld into a delicious ache that only adds to the growing desire pulsating between you.

He finally reaches the hilt, and you can’t help but release a guttural moan. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, your voice a sultry mix of pleasure and vulnerability, “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to your girth. You’re stretching me so good,” you admit, locking eyes with him and gripping his arms tightly, your nails digging into his skin as you savor the exquisite sensation of being completely filled by him.

“You’re taking me so damn well, babe,” he breathes, his voice thick with desire, as he starts to move inside you at an agonizingly slow pace. Every deliberate, languid thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you ache for more, even as you savor the intensity of the sensation.

He withdraws, the sensation of emptiness leaving you yearning for more, and then he pushes back in, each deliberate thrust sending ripples of pleasure coursing through your body. 

You can feel him everywhere - deep within your core and the firm grip of his hands on your hips, guiding every electrifying moment.

You find yourself in a blissful haze, caught between drowsiness and intoxication as he maintains the unhurried rhythm. Every movement is tender, every touch is deliberate, and he seems acutely attuned to the signals your body is sending. 

It doesn’t feel like just sex; it feels like a passionate declaration of love, an intimate connection that leaves you utterly enraptured.

“Does it feel good, babe?” 

He murmurs, his voice a sensual melody that resonates with your desires. As he pushes himself inside once more, he searches for that sweet spot, and when he finally finds it, he teases and tantalizes it with a rhythmic precision that sends electric waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Each deliberate thrust is a symphony of ecstasy, and you can’t help but moan in response, your voice a harmonious duet with his.

“Yes.” 

You pant, your voice trembling with desire as you instinctively move your legs further up his body, resting them on his shoulders. 

With this new angle, he penetrates even deeper, hitting that perfect spot that sends bolts of pleasure racing through you like wildfire. Your arousal surges, a fierce and intoxication wave that threatens to drown you in the sea of ecstasy building within your core. 

As he continues to make love to you with a tender passion, a rush of emotions courses through you, overwhelming your senses. 

The way he moves within you, so gentle and caring, fills your heart with an intense and intoxicating love. It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, as if you’re floating on a cloud of affection and desire. 

In this moment you realize, no one has ever connected with you so deeply and lovingly before, and it leaves you feeling like you’re soaring, intoxicated not just by pleasure, but by the love you have for him.

As your body responds to his every touch and movement, Yoongi can feel your walls contracting around him, a sure sign that you’re getting closer to the edge. 

His experienced hands explore your body, finding one of your breasts and teasing your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. Simultaneously, his other hand ventures lower, tracing a path to your core where he discovers your sensitive clit. 

With deliberate and sensual movements, he begins to rub it in slow, teasing circles, intensifying your pleasure and bringing you closer to the brink of ecstasy.

The moment Yoongi’s fingertips make contact with your sensitive area, it’s as if an electric current surges through your body, setting your nerve endings on fire. 

Your reaction is immediate and intense - your back arches instinctively, yearning for more of his electrifying touch. Each sensation he evokes heightens your desire, propelling you further down the path of unbridled pleasure.

As Yoongi continues to make love with deliberate slowness, his skillful touch ignites an intense longing within you. The combined sensations of his gentle thrusts, the delightful pinching of your nipple, and the rhythmic caresses of your clitoris send you hurtling towards an inevitable climax. 

Unable to contain yourself, you cry out his name, your voice filled with ecstasy as your orgasm consumes you. Your body quivers with pleasure, your inner walls contracting in waves, your abdomen tightening, and your vision briefly obscured by the brilliant burst of light that dances behind your closed eyelids.

As your orgasm washes over you, Yoongi can’t help but be captivated by your exquisite display of pleasure. 

He revels in the sight of your trembling lips, your flushed and contoured cheeks, and the mesmerizing motion of your breasts, which sway with each of his deliberate thrusts. While you ride out the waves of your orgasm, he continues to thrust into you, his own pleasure building as he relentlessly pursues his release, his eyes locked onto your euphoric expression.

He maintains his deliberate pace, keeping his thrusts slow and deep, savoring every moment. 

As you slowly descend from the euphoria of your orgasm, Yoongi leans down to capture your lips in a passionate and tender kiss. Your moans and pants mix with the soft sounds of your kisses as he continues to move inside you.

As your throbbing pussy continues to clench around him, Yoongi’s hips twitch involuntarily and he can’t hold back any longer. 

With one last, deep, and passionate thrust, he releases, filling the condom with his seed. His voice joins yours in a harmonious crescendo of pleasure as he moans your name, the intensity of the moment making it feel like time itself has come to a standstill.

As the waves of ecstasy subside, Yoongi’s ragged breaths gradually calm. 

He carefully withdraws from your pussy, tying off the used condom and discarding it in the sink. His eyes then trace the contours of your flushed, sated form, watching as your chest rises and falls with each recovering breath. 

Gently, he reaches out to stroke your cheek, the soft caress sending shivers down your spine. His fingers weave through your tousled hair, and he lowers his head to place tender, lingering kisses on your neck, leaving behind a few love marks as a reminder of your passionate love making.

“Yoongi, that was…” 

You exhale, struggling to find the right words to convey the intensity of the experience, “perfect,” you finally manage to sum up, your voice laced with contentment and admiration. His laughter dances in the air, a light, melodic sound that fills the space between you, and he places another soft, adoring kiss on your neck in response.

“Anything for you, babe.” 

He says with a warm smile, his eyes filled with affection as he reaches for the towel beside your head. Carefully, he begins to clean you up between your legs, his gentle touch offering both comfort and reassurance. 

You can feel the relief as he clears away the pooled fluids, easing the slight discomfort that lingered. Afterward, he tosses the used towel to the sink, intending to clean it later, and then he finds your panties, placing them back on you, making sure a fresh pad is in place. 

“Thank you, Yoon,” you murmur, your lips finding his in another passionate kiss. 

You draw him closer to you, your bodies molding together as you continue to exchange affectionate kisses. “I think it helped with the pain, it doesn’t feel so bad anymore,” you add, your voice laced with the drowsiness of contentment. 

As the soothing afterglow washes over you, fatigue begins to claim your senses. Yoongi hums in appreciation, his heart warmed by the knowledge that he could offer you some relief from the pain that had troubled you. 

Yoongi retrieves his boxers, slipping them on, and then gently spoons you from behind. His warm hand finds its place on your stomach, providing a sense of comfort and security. 

As he pulls the duvet over both of you, cocooning you in its warmth, you share an intimate moment of connection before succumbing to the embrace of sleep. The night’s passion has deepened your bond, and now, wrapped in each other’s arms, you drift off to dreamland, where your hearts continue to beat in perfect harmony.

The next day, a sense of relief washes over you as the cramps have eased up a bit. 

Still, Yoongi suggests a day of relaxation, cocooned in the comforting warmth of blankets and each other’s presence. You gladly accept his proposal, and the two of you settle into a cozy nook. 

The soft glow of the laptop screen casts a warm, intimate light across the room, painting everything in a gentle, cinematic hue. As you snuggle up to Yoongi, his arms wrapped around you, you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. 

With each passing minute, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this tranquil bubble of shared solitude.

As you both nestle in the warmth of your shared bed, a sense of nostalgia washes over you, prompting a heartfelt conversation about the serendipitous moment that brought you together.

10 years ago

A decade ago, the tapestry of your life bore a different pattern. 

The memory takes you back to a moonlit night when you were navigating the winding roads into Seoul. Your car, a loyal companion until that point, suddenly rebelled with an ominous sound, convulsing like a wounded creature before coming to a lifeless halt. 

Panic surged through your veins as you clutched your phone, dialing the number of your best friend, Jimin, in desperate hope of salvation. 

In hindsight, the absence of roadside assistance on your insurance plan now seemed like a glaring oversight. Inexplicably, Jimin’s response to your predicament was a burst of laughter, an outpouring of mirth that mingled with your frustration and fury. 

He casually mentioned that he knew someone who could help—a mechanic and one of his closest friends. Before disconnecting to make the necessary arrangements, he offered a cryptic piece of advice: "Be nice to him when he arrives." 

Though you couldn’t see his face through the phone, you rolled your eyes instinctively, as if he could somehow perceive your exasperation.

After a seemingly interminable hour of waiting, your irritation had grown into a simmering fury, matched only by the biting cold that had begun to gnaw at you. 

When Yoongi finally arrived, his weary smile greeted you, but your impatience was palpable in your eyes and your curt greeting. You wasted no time in describing the odd sequence of events that had led to your car’s demise—the strange sounds, the unsettling shaking, and the ultimate breakdown. 

Arms crossed beneath your chest, you impatiently tapped your foot on the frozen ground. With a sly grin, Yoongi teasingly asked if you had an urgent appointment, to which you replied with a petulant shake of your head, your only desire being to swiftly resolve the situation and return home to warmth.

As he popped the hood open and began tinkering with the engine, you couldn’t help but steal glances at him. 

He sported army-green cargo pants paired with a once-white t-shirt, though now it bore the unmistakable signs of his labor—stains of grease and oil littering its surface. His short, bleached-blond hair framed a weary but softly attractive face, one that appeared as though it hadn’t experienced a good night’s sleep in ages. His brawny, well-defined biceps flexed with each maneuver, and you found yourself admiring his physique, secretly deeming him quite attractive. 

In another universe, where he didn’t exude indifference and annoyance, you might have mustered the courage to ask him out. 

Ultimately, while he couldn’t perform a miraculous on-the-spot repair, he assured you that a colleague from his garage could tow your car, offering to personally drive you back home. 

You hadn’t anticipated his offer but accepted it nonetheless. The ride back to your home was mostly shrouded in silence, save for the occasional question about how you knew Jimin. 

You explained that you had met Jimin in college, and then an uncomfortable silence settled in the car. The irritation seemed to hang in the air; you couldn’t quite pinpoint whether it was his demeanor that rubbed you the wrong way or if it was simply the cumulative frustration from the terrible day you had endured.

Laughter bubbles up between you as you fondly reminisce about that night. 

“You seemed so cold and like helping me was the last thing you wanted to do,” you recall with a grin, and Yoongi chuckles in agreement. 

“Well, you weren’t any better; you seemed so angry and stuck up,” he playfully teases, which only makes you laugh even harder. 

“My car had just died, and I was freezing!” you retort with a grin, both of you sharing in the joy of that humorous memory.

“Thankfully, you fixed my car a few days later,” you reflect, a warm smile on your face, “and we began to hang out with Jimin.” You find yourself lost in the memories of those early days, where you discovered that Yoongi was not just a skilled mechanic but also a sweet and caring man who deeply valued his friendships and the people around him.

You linger in Daegu for an extra day, savoring the moments, before embarking on a scenic drive to a remote campsite nestled near Juwangsan National Park.

As you cruise along, a faint, unfamiliar noise emanates from Holly’s depths, causing a hint of concern to creep into your mind. You decide to bring it up with Yoongi, but his ears don’t catch the same odd sound. 

He reassures you that everything is likely okay, promising to address any issues should they arise. With his calming words, you ease back into the journey, albeit with a lingering curiosity about Holly’s mysterious hum.

After hours of anticipation, you finally arrive at the tranquil campsite. 

The midday sun filters through the foliage as Yoongi deftly parks the Holly beside towering, lush trees. Together, you unfold the marquee, arranging it to create a cozy shelter from nature’s elements. 

With care, you set up the stools and arrange them around a makeshift table, making the campsite feel more like a home away from home. The aroma of the surrounding wilderness invigorates your senses, and you can’t help but smile as you reminisce about the delicious meal Yoongi had prepared the day before. 

With excitement, you retrieve some cold beers from the cooler, their refreshing chill a perfect contrast to the warm, sun-kissed air. Alongside the beverages, you bring out the leftover food, a testament to Yoongi’s culinary skills that continue to amaze you.

 The aroma of the meal wafts through the air, tantalizing your taste buds and setting the scene for a perfect day in the great outdoors.

As you sit down to savor your meal, the anticipation for the adventures awaiting you in the national park fills the air. Your conversation turns to the exciting possibilities, and you both discuss the sights and trails you hope to explore. 

“I think we’re going to be doing a lot of hiking these next days,” Yoongi’s laughter punctuates the conversation, a reflection of the carefree spirit that camping in the wilderness has brought out in both of you. 

Between bites of food and sips of beer, you share your aspirations for the upcoming days, fully aware that the rugged terrain and challenging hikes will be both physically demanding and incredibly rewarding. 

The midday sun casts a warm glow on your surroundings, making it feel like a special occasion as you enjoy a beer at this unconventional hour.

With a hint of amusement in your voice, you add, “Yeah, I think it’ll be good. We’ve been enjoying some downtime in bed for the past few days.” The memory of both your cramps and  intimate moments and shared pleasures flashes in your eyes as you exchange glances with Yoongi. 

“I didn’t think you’d be up for anything active with your cramps,” he pouted in mock defense, and you playfully shoved his shoulder. “It was good, Yoon. But staying active helps too, and thankfully, I think I’m on my last day,” you almost sing-song, frustration and relief mingling in your voice as you express your disdain for your period—both the flow and the cramps.

You lean into Yoongi’s shoulder, a soft smile on your face. 

“Thank you,” you nudge him playfully with your shoulder against his. “For taking care of me and doing all that. You’re sweet. And you’re spoiling me,” you giggle, your fingers caressing his arm fondly.

“Anything for you, babe,” he says, his voice filled with warmth, and then leans in to kiss you tenderly, sealing your gratitude with a loving embrace.

Before dinner, you decide to embark on a short hiking trail, driven by the curiosity of discovering a hidden gem like a serene river or a picturesque waterfall. You navigate the winding path for about an hour, your anticipation growing with each step. 

Finally, the sound of cascading water reaches your ears, and as you turn a bend, you’re greeted by the breathtaking sight of a small, pristine waterfall – a tranquil oasis amidst the wilderness that leaves you utterly captivated.

You and Yoongi stand there in awe, gazing at the waterfall in a moment of shared wonder. 

The rushing water sparkles in the dappled sunlight, its beauty almost otherworldly. You’re both so captivated by the scene that you decide to capture it in photographs, creating lasting memories of this enchanting moment. 

With your camera, you frame shots of the waterfall: some with both of you, others with just the magnificent natural wonder as the backdrop. 

And, unable to resist the romantic atmosphere, you steal a sweet kiss, freezing that affectionate moment in time through the lens.

Surrounded by a sea of tourists, you and Yoongi remain in your own world, oblivious to the curious onlookers. It’s as if time has slowed down, and nothing else matters except the beauty of the waterfall and the warmth of each other’s presence. You exchange loving glances and share soft laughter, creating a bubble of serenity in the midst of the bustling crowd. 

The world may be watching, but right now, all that truly exists is the magic between you two.

As the sun begins its descent and the sky transforms into a canvas of warm hues, you and Yoongi make your way back to the campsite. The crackling campfire comes to life under his skillful hands, casting a flickering glow over your evening. 

The tantalizing aroma of dinner cooking wafts through the air, making your stomach growl in anticipation. The two of you settle by the fire, and Yoongi takes charge of preparing a delicious meal.

While he tends to the food, you decide to share a glimpse of your day with your friends. 

Your fingers dance across your phone screen as you select the perfect photo of you and Yoongi beside the captivating waterfall (not the one with you kissing!). It’s a moment of pure joy captured in pixels, the smiles on your faces telling a story of love and adventure. 

With a tap, you send the photo to your group chat, allowing your friends to share in your happiness, even from afar.

Jungkook [18:05]: That’s a pretty waterfall! You’re pretty too ___ 😀

Yoongi [18:07]: What about me? 🤔 

Taehyung [18:10]: Nah, you look like something the cat dragged in 😂

Seokjin [18:11]: 🤣🤣🤣

Yoongi [18:13]: That was totally uncalled for…

Namjoon [18:13]: But you asked 😆

Jimin [18:14]: Is that a hickey on your neck, ___? 😚

Hoseok [18:15]: It totally is, I had to zoom in 🤣

Jungkook [18:18]: Maybe her sleep moaning finally got to be enough for hyung and they slept together!

Taehyung [18:19]: I think you’re onto something, Kookie! 🧐

You [18:21]: No! Nothing has happened! 🙄

Hoseok [18:21]: What is this about ___ sleep moaning??? 😳

You [18:22]: We’re not gonna talk about that! 😤

Jungkook [18:22]: Buy some earplugs, just saying 😇

You [18:22]: Kook! 👿

Jimin [18:26]: You can keep telling us nothing happened, but the hickey speaks for itself. 😇

Jimin [18:26]: Congratulations both 🎉 I’m glad you finally get some quality dick, ___. Hyung, be good to her 🙂

Jungkook [18:28]: I’m so happy that my part of the vacation is over, imagine sleeping in the top bunk of the van now 🫣💀

Yoongi [18:33]: We won’t do it with one of you sleeping right above us, relax 🙄

Jimin [18:34]: 👏👏👏

Jimin [18:34]: You know that Holly isn’t soundproof, right? I could still hear you from our tent 🙃

Yoongi [18:39]: Maybe it’s a good idea to buy earplugs then 😏

Namjoon [18:40]: 😳

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you decide it’s time to give your phone a break. 

Your friends in the group chat have already bombarded you with teasing messages, and you can practically hear their laughter through the screen. 

You put down your phone, relishing the feeling of being unplugged from the virtual world and fully immersed in the real one – a cozy campfire, a delicious meal, and the warm company of Yoongi.

As you join Yoongi by the campfire, the aroma of the cooking dinner filling the air, you can’t help but grumble in frustration as your phone continues to buzz with messages from your friends. 

With a dramatic sigh, you pull out your phone, the group chat still alive and buzzing with cheeky comments. You glance at the screen, reading words like ‘earplugs,’ ‘moaning,’ ‘about time,’ and ‘dick,’ causing a mix of embarrassment and amusement to wash over you.

“Why did you have to tell them?” 

You groan, clearly flustered by their teasing. You look at Yoongi, hoping for some sympathy or perhaps an explanation for your current predicament.

“They were going to find out sooner or later anyway. And I think Jimin had a hunch,” he laughs, his shoulders shrugging nonchalantly. His laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but join in, realizing that there’s no escaping the playful banter of your friends.

You set your phone aside, deciding to embrace the teasing and enjoy the moment with Yoongi, who seems to take it all in stride. 

The campfire crackles, and the two of you share a knowing glance, finding comfort in each other’s company amidst the good-natured ribbing from your friends.

As you settle down on your stools and start to savor the meal Yoongi has prepared, the ambiance around the campfire becomes serene. The crackling of the fire provides a soothing background melody, and the surrounding forest exudes a sense of tranquility. 

The two of you share stories and anecdotes, your laughter filling the air as you recount the adventures you’ve had together. The flickering firelight casts playful shadows on your faces, accentuating the intimate atmosphere. 

As you take bites of the delicious meal, you exchange glances, each bite strengthening the bond between you. Underneath the starlit sky, you find yourselves lost in each other’s conversation and the warmth of the campfire, cherishing these moments of togetherness in the heart of nature.

The following morning, long before the sun had a chance to paint the sky with its golden hues, you were already a flurry of activity. 

The anticipation of witnessing the magic of a sunrise from atop the mountain has stirred something deep within you, an irresistible call to adventure that you can’t ignore. In the gentle pre-dawn light, you sit down with Yoongi to a humble breakfast of yesterday’s leftovers, savoring the flavors that still linger from your campfire-cooked dinner. 

Each bite is a reminder of the simple joys that nature and Yoongi’s company bestows upon you.

After nourishing your bodies, you donn your hiking gear. The familiar weight of your backpack, filled with essentials for the journey ahead, settling comfortably on your shoulders. The laces of your sturdy hiking boots are expertly tied, ready to carry you to new heights.

Outside, the air hangs heavy, draped in a delicate shroud of mist that clings to the trees like a whispering secret. It’s as though the forest has donned a mystical cloak, transforming the ordinary woods into an enchanted realm from a fairy tale. 

As you and Yoongi venture deeper into this ethereal landscape, the fog paints the world with an otherworldly charm. The trees, their gnarled branches reaching for the heavens, looms like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the woods. 

Each step you take stirs the damp earth beneath your boots, releasing the intoxicating aroma of dew-kissed leaves and rich, fertile soil.

Your journey commences with each step, retracing the familiar path that led past the captivating waterfall you had encountered the day before. The sound of rushing water serenades you, its glistening cascade illuminated by the subtle hues of twilight. It’s as if nature itself had prepared a prelude for the grand spectacle to come.

As you venture higher into the mountain’s embrace, a gentle ascent that mirrors your anticipation, the world around you begins to transform. 

The inky darkness of night slowly relinquishes its hold, granting way to the soft, ephemeral blush of dawn. The sky, painted in a canvas of purples and blues, seems to acknowledge the imminent arrival of the sun. In the east, a delicate orange ember emerges on the horizon, a harbinger of the magnificent sunrise that awaits you. 

The very fabric of the sky begins to shift, transforming from the tranquil coolness of night into the vibrant warmth of morning. It is a slow and deliberate metamorphosis, nature’s own symphony of colors and light, playing out just for you.

A serene clearing emerges beneath the canopy of the forest, a natural amphitheater carved by the hand of time itself. While it isn’t the highest point of your journey, it offers a vantage point that feels like an exclusive front-row seat to one the cosmos’ most exquisite performances. 

Here, you decide to pause, the world around you falling into hushed reverence for the celestial spectacle about to unfold. The very essence of the morning seems to gather around this sacred spot, as if nature had designed it solely for moments like these.

As you settle down amidst the tranquil embrace of the clearing, your senses seem to sharpen, attuned to the subtle symphony of nature. The forest around you was still, each leaf holding its breath in anticipation. The air carries the earthy scent of dew-kissed leaves, the morning’s first breath imbued with the promise of a new day.

The horizon is a canvas of vibrant hues, a masterpiece of oranges and pinks intermingling with the last vestiges of the night’s indigo. The sun, still an unassuming ember, hovers just below the edge of the world, poised to set the sky ablaze with its radiance.

The sun, casting its golden hues over the world, paints an ethereal dance on Yoongi’s skin. Each ray of sunlight, as if with intention, traces the contours of his face, highlighting the exquisite features that have captured your heart. His skin, kissed by the gentle warmth of the morning sun, seem to glow from within, emanating a natural radiance that defies explanation. The dappled shadows play along the edges of his features, accentuating the depth of his gaze, the curve of his lips, and the line of his jaw.

As you hold his hand, fingers entwine in a silent testament to your bond, you marvel at how he transforms in this soft morning light. His eyes, those windows to his soul, hold a quiet wisdom that transcends words. They cradle the promise of new beginnings, just like the rising sun.

You nestle your head against the crook of Yoongi’s neck, your cheek pressing tenderly against his skin, as if seeking refuge in the warmth of his embrace. A contented sigh escapes your lips, carrying with it the weight of your feelings, heavy with love and adoration.

Your voice, soft and intimate, is a gentle caress, lacing every word with the depth of your emotions. 

“This is nice,” you whisper, the words carrying the essence of the moment—a moment where time stands still, and all that matters is the two of you, entwined in the beauty of the sunrise. His response is a silent affirmation of your sentiment, “It really is.” 

Yoongi’s fingers interlock with yours again, a tangible link that mirrors the bond of your hearts. There’s no need for elaborate declarations or grand gestures; the simplicity of this experience is enough to convey the depth of your love.

You remain in that tranquil embrace for what feels like an eternity, though it is a mere thirty minutes that passes—the very same amount of time it takes for the sun to complete its mesmerizing ascent. As the golden orb inches higher into the sky, painting the world with hues of orange and pink, you’re enveloped by an overwhelming sense of contentment.

“Ah, sorry,” a soft, apologetic voice intrudes upon your reverie, drawing your attention away from the captivating sunrise. Startled by the interruption, you turn to find a passerby, their presence briefly disrupting the cocoon of intimacy you and Yoongi have created.

Breaking the spell, you rise from your serene perch, extending a hand towards Yoongi as you seek to regain the moment’s magic. He accepts your invitation with a nod, understanding your unspoken desire to continue your adventure. Together, hand in hand, you decide to venture further up the trail, in pursuit of new vistas.

In tandem you embark on your ascent up the mountain trail, the path gradually becoming steeper and more challenging. As the elevation increases, so do the physical demands of the hike, leaving you both breathless and perspiring. Each step is a testament to your determination and shared commitment to reaching new heights.

The mountain’s relentless climb seems to conspire against you, testing your endurance and resilience. The air grows thinner, and the weight of the ascent bares down on your chests, making each inhalation feel like a battle against gravity itself. Yet, you press on, fueled by the promise of a breathtaking view awaiting you at the peak.

“We should take a break,” Yoongi suggests, his voice tinged with a hint of laughter as he gently pulls you away from the challenging mountain trail and into the soothing embrace of the forest. 

Despite your determination, the physical strain of the ascent has left you panting and gasping for breath. “You’re a panting and groaning mess,” he says, as you follow him willingly, your face displaying a playful pout behind his back.

In the heart of the forest, surrounded by the tranquil sounds of nature, you find respite from the relentless climb. The cool shade of the trees provides a much-needed refuge from the sun’s unforgiving rays. As you settle down, you can't help but admire how Yoongi’s eyes sparkle with amusement, and you share a knowing smile, appreciating the momentary escape from the strenuous hike.

“And you’re turning me on.”

Yoongi confesses with a mischievous glint in his eyes, as he playfully pushes you up against a tree. 

You can’t help but burst into laughter, utterly bewildered by his comment. 

“How the heck can I be turning you on? We’re just walking!” you exclaim, your amusement clear, but you wince slightly as you rub your shoulder. The impact with the tree isn't entirely pleasant, but thankfully, your backpack absorbed most of the force.

A feral growl escapes from Yoongi’s lips as he closes the distance between you, his gaze intense and hungry. 

His tongue darts out to lick his lips, as if he’s ready to devour you whole. “First,” he huskily begins, his voice dripping with desire, “you’re panting and groaning, and it’s making me think of sex with you. Second,” he continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “your ass in those tights is nothing short of sinful.” 

He shamelessly runs his hand down your body, slowly sliding one of his legs between yours, igniting a fiery desire impossible to ignore.

Your senses are ablaze as desire courses through you, and you can’t help but wonder if he can feel the evidence of your arousal even through your tights. 

You gulp audibly, your heart racing at his word. “Babe, you’re already wet,” he says with a teasing chuckle, his voice carrying a hint of menace that sends shivers down your spine.

Before you can react, he dives in, capturing your lips with a passionate, forceful kiss. 

Your backpack straps fall to your sides, and the backpack thuds to the ground, forgotten. You moan into his mouth, your body trembling as his thigh rubs provocatively against your clothed core, stoking the flames of desire that burn within you, leaving you yearning for him in every possible way.

“Shit, Yoongi, I want you,” you confess, your voice laced with desire and urgency. But then doubt creeps in, and you hesitate, voicing your concern, “But what if someone sees us?” 

Your arousal is undeniable, but so is your fear of being caught doing something intimate in a public place.

“No one will see, and you’ll be quiet, yeah?” 

He insists, pressing his body firmly against yours, his breath hot against your ear. You gulp, your heart racing with anticipation, and nod in agreement. 

The thrill of the risk and the promise of passion in this secret nook overwhelm your senses, making it impossible to resist his advances.

“Turn around then,” he murmurs, delivering a playful slap to your ass as you obediently pivot, your front now pressed against the rough bark of the tree. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel the coolness of the tree against your heated skin, contrasting with the warmth building within you. 

Yoongi swiftly discards his backpack, the thug echoing through the serene forest as it hits the ground. His strong hands find your hips, fingers gripping firmly as he grinds his already hard dick against your ass. The sensation sends a shiver of desire coursing through your body, and you arch your back, craving more of his touch.

“Do you have a condom?” you ask him in between pants.

“No,” he breaths, “did you pack some by chance?” he asks you back, slightly frustrated.

“It’s not exactly standard hiking gear,” you quip between gasps and laughter, your excitement mingling with the absurdity of the situation.

Yoongi chuckles too, a mix of amusement and frustration. 

“Don’t men carry condoms in their wallets?” 

You joke, but it falls flat as Yoongi grunts, “Not everybody does,” he remarks, frustrated as he still feels so aroused and he just wants you now. He’s thinking about fucking you raw, and just the thought alone arouses him so damn much.

“Fuck,” he says as he runs a hand through his long black hair in frustration. “I’m clean, are you?” he asks with a strain to his voice, like it’s taking all of him to hold back.

“Yeah. So what are you waiting for?” 

Your words are laced with anticipation and desire as you surrender to the intensity of the moment, ready to give in to the forbidden thrill of your passionate rendezvous in the secluded forest.

Yoongi doesn’t have to be told twice and he immediately gets to work, tugging his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. 

Then he pulls your leggings down with your panties, and as his hard dick meets your bare skin, the tension between you both becomes palpable. His impatient growl reverberates through the stillness of the forest, intensifying the sense of urgency and longing that courses through your bodies.

“I’m sorry it has to be quick and without prep,” in the hushed tones of the forest, his apology carries a weight of longing and frustration, but your reassuring words fill the air with understanding and acceptance. 

As your bodies align in the dimly lit woods, the anticipation heightens. Each touch and movement sends waves of desire coursing through your bodies, igniting a fire that threatens to consume every rational thought.

He reaches a hand down between your legs and feels your wetness there and he’s thankful for it, because that means he will most likely slide right in. The last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

“Spread your legs for me.” 

The sensation of his hand on your ass sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. His commanding yet considerate touch ignites a spark of desire as you obediently spread your legs, inviting him into the heated embrace of your longing body. 

Each movement, every whispered command, intensifies the anticipation of what’s to come.

Your heart races as you brace against the tree, your body arching in an instinctive plea for more. 

The primal tension in the air is palpable as he spreads your aching pussy and ass wide, the anticipation building with every moment. As he guides himself into your quivering core, the sensation is a heady mix of pleasure and urgency, each inch of his cock claiming you with a possessive intensity that leaves you breathless.

You grit your teeth against the initial discomfort, your breath catching in your throat. 

“I’m sorry. I promise it’ll feel better soon,” his soothing words wash over you like a balm, and you nod, your trust in him unwavering. 

As you both hold still for a moment, you feel the tension slowly ebbing away. Each measured thrust sends waves of sensation rippling through your body, transforming the initial pain into a cascade of pleasure that threatens to consume you. 

“Fuck.” 

You cling to the tree, feeling the rugged bark against your palms, grounding you in the intensity of the moment, as he is fully sheathed inside you.

“Shhh, babe,” he hushes you, “you don’t want anybody to hear us.” 

His voice is a sultry whisper, a tantalizing secret shared only between you and the wilderness that surrounds you. 

Each thrust carries the promise of ecstasy, a stolen moment of passion amidst the serene backdrop of the forest. Your hushed moans blend with the sounds of nature, a symphony of desire that sings with each rhythmic plunge, creating a delicious tension that electrifies the air.

The primal intensity of him, bare and unrestrained, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Every movement, every stroke, feels like a forbidden dance in the heart of the wild, where desire meets nature’s untamed beauty. 

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the mounting sensations, but it’s a futile effort as your body betrays you with involuntary quivers and moans, blending your cries of pleasure with the rustling leaves and whispering trees around you.

“Fuck you feel incredible without a condom on.” 

He whispers in your ear and your mind is a whirlwind of ecstasy as his words send shockwaves of desire through your body. 

The feeling of him, raw and unrestrained, makes you feel more connected to him than ever before. 

You can’t help but respond, you voice a breathy symphony of pleasure, “Yoongi, don’t stop,” you moan, your nails digging into the tree bark as he continues to drive you to the brink of ecstasy. 

His words send a jolt of desire through you, igniting a fiery connection between your bodies. Your inner muscles clench around him, a natural response to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. The sensation is electrifying, like a current of euphoria surging through your core. His hiss of pleasure only fuels you more.

With each powerful thrust, a symphony of sensation washes over you. His primal need for you drives him deeper, igniting a wild, intoxicating connection between your bodies. 

Your grip on the tree tightens in tandem with his unrelenting pace, fingers digging into the rough bark as if anchoring yourself to the moment. 

His head rests against your neck, warm breath brushing against your skin, while his teeth gently graze your shoulder, an instinctual response to stifle his moans.

As Yoongi continues his relentless pace, the boundaries between pleasure and the outside world blur into a tantalizing haze. 

Every thrust sends shivers of ecstasy through your body, and the sensations become your entire universe. 

The wild, unbridled connection between you and him transcends the awareness of the world around you. In the back of your mind, you vaguely notice the subtle symphony of nature surrounding you – the rustling leaves and twigs breaking getting closer.

Fuck. 

Your voice trembles as you speak, the urgency of the situation sinking in. 

“Yoongi, I think somebody’s coming,” you gasp, your words barely above a whisper, but laced with fear and desire. 

The possibility of being caught adds an electrifying edge to the added arousal you feel.

“It’s probably just a squirrel,” he reassures you, his voice strained with the effort to keep his own excitement at bay. 

His relentless thrusts continue, each one driving you both closer to the edge. But in the distance, the sound of footsteps grows louder and closer, a faint but undeniable presence that sends a shiver down your spine.

Frantically, he picks up his pace even more, his hips slamming into you with a fervor matched only by the urgency of the approaching footsteps. 

Your muffled moans mix with his heavy breathing as your bodies move in unison, chasing the euphoria that hovers just beyond your reach. The tension in the air is palpable, a heady mix of desire and the fear of discovery, pushing you both to the brink.

You’re startled by a man’s voice calling out, “Anybody here? Are you alright?” 

Panic surges through you as you realize you might be caught in the act, but strangely, the thrill of being watched intensifies the sensations coursing through you body. 

Your heart pounds, and you feel your orgasm approaching like a freight train, careening toward you with unstoppable force. 

Yoongi doesn’t know if you should answer the man or not, who clearly thinks you’re in distress. He breaths against your ear all the same, “Answer him, babe. Maybe he’ll go away then.” 

His voice is laced with urgency, and he increases his pace, trying to push you both to the edge before the intruder gets any closer.

Does he really want you to speak to someone while he fucks you? You’re afraid that your unsteady voice will betray you, but you really want whoever is closing in on you to go away. So, you steady your voice and yell, “We’re fine,” in a tone that’s slightly higher than usual. The words come out rushed and strained, but you hope they’ll do the trick and make the stranger go away.

As Yoongi thrusts hard into you again, both of you teetering on the edge of climax, he whispers, “Good girl.” 

His voice is strained with desire and a hint of urgency, intensifying the sensation coursing through your body. 

The footsteps don’t retreat as you had hoped; instead, they draw even closer, sending a shiver of anxiety down your spine again. Fuck.

The fear of being discovered intensifies the sensations coursing through your body, pushing you relentlessly over the edge. Your walls tighten around Yoongi’s throbbing cock, and your vision blurs as a wave of pleasure crashes over you. 

Desperate to stifle your rising moans, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. 

Yoongi’s release surges through him in powerful waves, and he can’t help but revel in the overwhelming pleasure. Yet, the urgency of the situation forces him to act quickly. 

He withdraws from your pulsating pussy, still throbbing with desire, and swiftly pulls up his boxers and pants. With equal haste, he helps you rearrange your clothing, his breath ragged and a mix of satisfaction and anxiety in his eyes.

“Hi, I heard weird noises,” a man stands before you, his eyes scanning your disheveled appearance and your flushed cheeks, a bead of sweat trickling down your temple. 

“I wanted to make sure that nobody was in distress,” he says with eyebrows raised in suspicion, appearing genuinely concerned. You and Yoongi exchange a brief, nervous glance, your breaths ragged and your heart races as the stranger’s piercing gaze lingers a moment too long.

The once quiet woods now hum with the echoes of your ragged breaths, a symphony of vulnerability and exhilaration. Yoongi stands beside you, attempting to regain his composure, his chest rising and falling with an uneven cadence. 

You, on the other hand, remain a quivering and panting mess, the aftermath of your orgasm still coursing through your veins. Your backpacks haphazardly discarded on the ground.

“We’re fine.” 

Yoongi eventually manages to say, his voice slightly hoarse from the unexpected interruption. The awkward silence that lingers during the stranger’s inquiries feels like an eternity, stretching time into an uncomfortable pause. As Yoongi speaks, he feels a mixture of embarrassment and relief washing over him. His earlier intense arousal begins to ebb away, replaced by a more composed state of mind.

“Are you sure?” 

The stranger directs his question to you, and your heart momentarily skips a beat. 

You hastily gather your wits, aware of the need for a convincing response. Taking a deep breath, you lock eyes with the concerned passerby. 

“Yes,” you assert, your voice trembling ever so slightly. You feel the weight of the lie as it leaves your lips, and you hope with all your might that it’s convincing enough. “This is my boyfriend – he was just pushing me too hard against the trail, and I’m in really bad shape. That’s why I’m out of breath.” 

You silently pray that your words paint a believable picture, all while Yoongi stands beside you, maintaining a façade of casual exhaustion, the intensity of the recent encounter still lingering in his eyes. The stakes are high, and the act must hold for just a little longer.

Yoongi looks at you with a mixture of astonishment and admiration, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You can see the subtle curve of his lips, hinting at a proud and relieved smile that he tries to conceal. It’s as if he’s realizing just how quick-witted and resourceful you can be in a pinch.

To truly convince the stranger, you instinctively pull Yoongi into a tight embrace, as if seeking refuge in his arms. 

Your lips meet his in a hurried yet convincing kiss, one filled with genuine affection and a hint of urgency. As you pull away, you can’t help but feel the lingering warmth of his lips against yours, a stark contrast to the shivers coursing through your body. 

Beneath your hurried facade, you’re acutely aware of the discomfort caused by the sticky remnants of your passionate encounter. Your panties cling uncomfortably to your sensitive skin, and you can’t help but frown in concern. 

You can feel Yoongi’s cum starting to leak out of your pussy and deep down, you hope and pray that there are no visible signs of it.

The stranger regards both of you for a few more seconds, as if trying to read the truth in your eyes. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, hoping that your hastily crafted lie has convinced him. Sweat beads form on your forehead, and you wonder if he can see through your facade. 

Then, with a subtle nod and a skeptical yet understanding expression, the stranger seems to accept your explanation. 

Relief washes over you, like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You share a glance with Yoongi, and there’s a silent exchange of gratitude and relief in your eyes.

As you and Yoongi hoist your backpacks onto your shoulders, you exchange one last polite nod with the stranger. His gaze follows you, a hint of lingering curiosity in his eyes, but he says nothing more.

With a renewed sense of urgency, you and Yoongi turn away from him, your footsteps falling in sync on the trail. The forest envelopes you once again, the trees whispering secrets and the leaves cushioning your every step.

Silence settles between you and Yoongi for a moment, but it’s a comfortable silence, laced with the knowledge of the thrilling encounter you just had. Your hearts still race, and every rustle of leaves makes you turn your head, half-expecting the stranger to reappear.

“Oh my god, that was my worst nightmare come true!” 

You exclaim, your voice hushed but filled with urgency, as you and Yoongi put some distance between yourselves and the stranger. Your heart still races, and your words tumble out in a breathless rush. 

“I can’t believe we got caught like that.” 

You glance at Yoongi, your eyes wide with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. The two of you share a quick, nervous laugh.

“Ouch, was I that bad?” Yoongi pouts in mock offense, his lips forming an adorable sulk as he glances at you. But before you can respond, he playfully nudges you with his shoulder, eliciting a soft giggle from you. His laughter mixes with yours, the tension of the moment dissipating like morning mist under the sun. 

You playfully slap him across his chest, a mischievous sparkle in your eyes. “No! You know what I mean,” you tease, your voice laced with affectionate sarcasm. “You were incredible,” you add, letting your fingers linger on his chest, tracing invisible patterns, a silent promise of more to come.

“That might have been your worst nightmare, but babe,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I felt how your pussy clenched more as he got closer.” His teasing tone is met with a hint of a smirk as he leans in closer. Your cheeks flush even redder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

You reply with a sly grin, your footsteps quickening as you lead the way up the trail. You look back over your shoulder, catching his eye with a playful glint. It’s a silent invitation for him to chase after you, a wordless promise of more adventures to come.

“Just admit you’re an exhibitionist at heart, babe.” 

He teases with a hearty laugh. You huff in response, but deep down, a rush of conflicting emotions surges through you. A mixture of embarrassment, excitement, and a newfound sense of liberation. It’s as though this unexpected encounter has unlocked a hidden facet of your desires, one you never knew existed.

“Also, can we talk about me being your boyfriend?” 

He asks, his gaze intense and searching, his eyes locking onto your blushing face. In the heat of the moment, you have forgotten your mishap when you spoke with the stranger, and now anxiety bubbles up within you. You stammer for words, your mind racing as you mumble incoherently, desperately hoping he won’t be upset.

He comes to a sudden halt, his fingers gently but firmly wrapping around your arms, and he fixes his gaze deep into your eyes. 

A hint of vulnerability shines through his expression as he says, “I liked it.” 

His voice is soft and sincere. A warm smile graces his lips, and you can sense the honesty behind those words, making your heart flutter with a mixture of relief and affection.

Your tense features immediately soften, and a wave of relief washes over you. You feel yourself melting in his embrace, his touch reassuring and warm. 

With wide eyes filled with wonder, you whisper, “You did?” 

The words hang in the air, heavy with emotion, as you search his eyes for confirmation.

“Yeah. In fact, I’ve been thinking about it for a few days,” he admits, scratching the back of his head, his vulnerability endearing. As you gaze into his deep brown eyes, you sense a whirlwind of emotions, but love shines through, swirling like a gentle current that binds your hearts together.

“I’ve been tormenting myself with this for the past few weeks,” you confess, the weight of your feelings finally spilling out. “I’ve been desperate to define what we are. And, honestly, it didn’t help when you introduced me as your ‘friend’ to your family.” The words hang in the air, charged with the uncertainty and longing that have been building within you for so long.

“If I had introduced you as my girlfriend,” he chuckles, “my mom would’ve started planning our wedding right then and there. And babies? Oh, she’d be all over that.” 

His laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but smile at his words, even if you’re still pouting playfully.

“But didn’t your sister do that anyway?” 

You playfully shove him, joining in on his laughter. “I swear, your family is all about weddings and baby plans.”

“That’s because she’s noisy and has a sixth sense,” he tells you with a playful grin, wrapping an arm around your waist as you both start walking again. “But hey, I promise not to pressure you for babies anytime soon.”

“You’re not pressuring me,” you say with a reassuring smile, looking into his eyes. “If anything, I’ll probably be the one pressuring you about that. I’m almost 30, and I’m not getting any younger. I’m not saying I want kids right now, but in the future, yes.”

He meets your gaze with a soft, heartfelt expression. “I do too,” he says, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability.

“So, do you want to date me, exclusively?” 

You ask, turning your head toward him, your smile radiating warmth. His eyes light up with excitement as he responds, “God, yes.” 

His hands find yours, and you intertwine your fingers, feeling a rush of emotions. In that moment, it feels like your heart might burst with love. He’s finally officially yours, and you are his. 

You turn around, catching his lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing your newfound commitment with a sweet and heartfelt gesture.

You continue your hike hand in hand, reaching the summit of the mountain a few hours later. The view from the top is nothing short of breathtaking, with the sun casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape. The two of you stand there, silently taking in the beauty that surrounds you, feeling a deep connection between your intertwined fingers.

However, a persistent reminder of your passionate encounter still lingers – your damp panties, a consequence of both the intense hike and the thrilling escapade earlier. You can’t help but wish you had packed a spare pair, as you feel a mixture of sweat and his cum leaving you in a constant state of arousal.

The next day, you revel in the newfound bliss of having Yoongi officially as your boyfriend. 

Your morning is drenched in the soft, golden light filtering through the curtains, and you can’t resist the urge to express your love. With delicate kisses, you trace a path along his neck, leaving a trail of affectionate, crimson imprints in your wake, each mark a testament to your newfound love.

After another exhilarating hike, you stumble upon a magnificent waterfall, its cascading waters shimmering in the sunlight. The sheer force of nature’s beauty leaves you in awe. But as the day wears on, your fatigue catches up with you. 

Your feet ache from the miles you’ve trekked in the past few days. Each step back to Holly feels like a triumph over your body’s protests, a testament to the incredible adventures you’ve shared.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm orange glow inside the van, Yoongi suggests a mutual foot massage to ease the fatigue that has settled into your limbs. You eagerly agree, both wanting to give and receive comfort after a long day of hiking.

You settle into a cozy spot on the bed, your legs stretched out, and Yoongi’s foot cradled in your lap. 

His strong, nimble fingers start working their magic, tracing delicate patterns on your skin, expertly kneading away the day’s tension. It feels like heaven as he finds and releases every knot and kink in your tired feet, making you sigh in bliss. You can’t help but marvel at how skilled he is, not just with his hands but in everything he does.

You return the favor, your fingers replicating his motions on his own tired feet. The exchange of care and affection in this intimate moment strengthens the bond between you. 

As you both lose yourselves in the rhythmic dance of your fingers, you’re reminded that it’s not just about the massages; it’s about the love and closeness you share, making each touch all the more meaningful.

After leaving the previous campsite, you decide to explore further, heading north to Yeongdeok. 

There, you stumble upon a hidden gem—a quaint park tucked away amidst nature’s embrace. The park boasts a winding hiking trail, promising adventure and serenity in equal measure.

At the trailhead, you’re greeted by a lush canopy of trees that sway gently in the breeze, their leaves casting playful shadows on the ground. The earthy scent of the forest fills your nostrils as you begin your ascent. Birds sing melodious tunes, creating a harmonious backdrop to your journey.

As you reach the pinnacle of the trail, your efforts are rewarded with a breathtaking view that leaves you in awe. Before you, stretch the endless expanse of the sea, its azure waters stretch out as far as the eye can see. Below, mighty cliffs and jagged rocks rise from the depths, standing sentry against the relentless waves.

The sea’s rhythmic ballet is hypnotic, its waves crashing against the cliffs with both force and grace, as if engaged in an eternal dance. 

You and Yoongi stand in silence, absorbing the sheer majesty of this natural spectacle. It’s moments like these, when you’re surrounded by the untamed beauty of the world, that you feel the most alive, connected not just to nature but to each other.

“It’s really beautiful.” 

Inhaling deeply, you let the sheer beauty of the ocean and cliffs wash over you, filling your lungs with the crisp, salty air. Beside you, Yoongi, his eyes reflecting the same awe you feel, interlaces his fingers with yours, his silent affirmation of the breathtaking panorama before you.

After leaving the serene park, you and Yoongi embark on a short drive to a beach; a local secret with crystal-clear waters that rival even the most exotic of destinations. 

The moment your toes touch the powdery sand, a sense of tranquility washes over you. The sun kisses your skin, its warmth like a gentle embrace, and you slip into your bathing suit, feeling the soft fabric hug your body. Yoongi stands beside you, a grin of pure joy on his face, as you both take in the panorama before you.

The water stretches out, a palette of blues and greens merging in a harmonious blend, inviting you to explore its depths. 

Hand in hand, you and Yoongi walk along the shoreline, the cool, foamy waves lapping at your feet. It’s a sensory symphony—the sound of the waves crashing, the salty tang of the sea in the air, and the soft caress of the sand underfoot.

As you wade into the shallow water, you can’t help but steal glances at each other, laughter bubbling up as the gentle waves playfully tease you. The ocean’s embrace is both invigorating and soothing, a bittersweet reminder that your vacation days are numbered. You’re determined to savor every precious moment together, etching these memories into your hearts before the inevitable chill of autumn arrives.

Following a day of exploration and seaside delight, the two of you stumble upon a charming local restaurant, its rustic façade promising authentic flavors of the coastal town. 

With the scent of the sea still lingering in your hair, you step inside and are immediately greeted by the tantalizing aroma of freshly cooked snow crabs, a local delicacy that beckons to your taste buds. Seated at a quaint wooden table with a view of the bustling kitchen, you and Yoongi embark on a culinary adventure. 

The dishes arrive, each one a work of art on the plate. The first bite of succulent snow crab sends a burst of flavor that dances across your palate, a symphony of sweet and savory notes that leave you craving more.

As you savor each mouthful, you steal glances at Yoongi, his eyes reflecting the same appreciation for the exquisite meal. There’s a shared understanding between you, an unspoken bond that transcends words—a silent agreement that this moment, this meal, is something special. 

The dim, cozy ambiance of the restaurant only adds to the intimacy of the evening. The hours slip away as you indulge in the local cuisine, the flavors becoming more than just food—they’re an experience, a memory etched into your journey. With each bite, you feel closer to the heart of this coastal town and to each other. 

As the sun begins its gentle descent beyond the horizon, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, you and Yoongi make your way to a nearby campground. 

The day has been a tapestry of unforgettable experiences, from the rugged trails to the soothing embrace of the sea. Now, under the canvas of the night sky, you find solace in the simple yet comforting embrace of your campsite. 

With the rhythmic lullaby of crickets and the distant whispers of the breeze in the trees, you set up your cozy haven for the night. The soft glow of your campfire flickers in the darkness, casting dancing shadows that seem to mirror the playful dance of your hearts. The aroma of crackling wood mingles with the scent of the forest, creating an intoxicating blend that fills the air.

You and Yoongi retire to your snug sleeping quarters, cocooned in warmth and each other’s presence. The day’s adventures have left your bodies pleasantly fatigued, and as you lay beneath a blanket of stars, the world seems to fade away. 

The hushed conversations and gentle laughter between you are the only sounds in the stillness of the night.

As you continue your journey, the rhythmic hum of Holly’s engine is suddenly interrupted by an ominous noise again, but more prominent than before. At first, it’s a faint whisper, like a distant rumble, but it steadily grows louder and more disconcerting. The unease in the pit of your stomach mirrors the growing intensity of the sound.

Yoongi’s keen ears catch the disturbance too, and his brows furrow in concern. 

The two of you exchange worried glances, realizing that this is not a good sign. Holly, your trusted companion on this adventure, seems to be voicing its distress in the only way it knows how.

The noise reverberates through the van, making the situation impossible to ignore. It’s a reminder that even the best-laid plans can be derailed by unexpected challenges. The anticipation and uncertainty hang in the air, creating a sense of urgency as you approach Andong, hoping to find a solution to the growing problem.

With each passing mile, the noise becomes a relentless companion, a constant reminder of the unknown. Your hearts beat in tandem with Holly’s disconcerting rhythm, as you brace yourselves for whatever lies ahead in this unexpected twist of your journey.

In the heart of Andong, Yoongi’s determination leads you to a local garage that radiates a sense of authenticity and warmth. 

With a friendly smile and a humble request, he approaches the mechanics and inquires if they might have a hydraulic lift he can borrow for a moment.

The mechanics, deeply rooted in the spirit of their tight-knit community, are quick to oblige. Their willingness to help a stranger on the road is a testament to the hospitality and camaraderie of the place. They nod with understanding and offer Yoongi their trust, allowing him to work on the van in peace.

As Yoongi delves beneath the van’s chassis, the anticipation in the air is palpable. 

You watch him with admiration, the clinking of tools and the occasional muttered words of problem-solving creating a symphony of determination. As Yoongi dives into the task at hand, you find yourself drawn into the rhythm of his work. 

The garage’s dimly lit interior casts elongated shadows as he meticulously dissects Holly’s front wheel section. The metallic clinks of tools and the soft hum of the overhead lights fill the air, creating a symphony of purposeful activity.

With every piece he carefully removes, the mystery of Holly’s strange noise unravels. 

It’s as if he’s conducting a delicate orchestra of mechanics, and you’re an audience of one, enchanted by his expertise. 

His hands move with a graceful precision, each movement deliberate and calculated. In this moment, as the problem is revealed under the probing beam of his flashlight, a surge of relief washes over you. 

You realize how much you rely on him, not just as your partner in this journey, but as the unwavering troubleshooter who turns setbacks into triumphs. 

As the source of the strange noise is pinpointed, a triumphant smile spreads across Yoongi’s face. Holly, a silent witness to your adventures, almost seems to sigh in relief too.

As Yoongi kneels beside the van, his fingers deftly inspecting the worn-out drive shaft cuffs and tightening loose bolts, he begins to explain the intricacies of the van’s inner workings. 

Though the technical jargon might as well be a foreign language to you, you’re completely captivated by the way he lights up when he talks about it. 

His voice, a soothing blend of confidence and passion, weaves a story of mechanical marvels and engineering wizardry. Each word he utters carries the weight of expertise, and as you watch his hands move with the grace of a seasoned craftsman, you can’t help but admire his mastery of the subject. Even though the details might elude you, the admiration in your eyes speaks volumes. Listening to Yoongi, you realize how love can infuse even the most mundane topics with magic. 

The way he pours his heart into this moment, explaining the van’s ailments and the remedies required, makes you fall in love with him all even more.

In this garage, surrounded by the scent of grease and the echoes of tinkering tools, you find yourself not just appreciating his mechanical expertise but also marveling at the depth of your bond. 

As he wraps up his explanation, you can’t help but smile, grateful for the chance to witness his passion and to be a part of this adventure with him.

As Yoongi approaches the garage owners with a confident smile, you can’t help but admire his resourcefulness. It’s one of those moments that showcase his determination and practical problem-solving skills. 

The owners, a pair of weathered but friendly faces, nod in acknowledgment as Yoongi explains his needs. With a swift exchange of money, the spare parts are in his hands, and he’s back at work. 

The tools clink and clank, echoing in the garage like a symphony of repair. As he meticulously replaces the worn-out cuffs and tightens the loose screws, you stand by, a silent witness to his dedication. The rhythm of his movements, the focused look on his face, and the occasional muttering to himself all paint a portrait of a man wholly engrossed in his task.

“I’m done now, thank you for waiting.” 

Yoongi’s voice breaks through the ambient sounds of the garage, pulling you from your quiet contemplation. His beaming smile and the way he wipes his oiled hands on his pants are endearing, a testament to his pride in a job well done.

You rise from where you were leaning against a nearby shelf, your own smile mirroring his. With every step you take towards him, it’s not just Holly that’s been repaired; it’s your faith in each other and your ability to navigate life’s unexpected detours.

He pulls you into a warm, oil-scented embrace, his chest pressed against yours. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring, matches the rhythm of your own.

Unable to contain your admiration, you offer a compliment with a playful smile, “I enjoyed watching you work,” but your cheeks betray you with a blush that rises like a cresting wave, “you look hot.”

His fingers, stained with grease and oil, brush gently against your cheek as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth of his rough hands against your skin.

“My hands are dirty, babe.” 

He murmurs, his voice a low, husky timbre that sends a thrill through your entire body. He attempts to pull away, to spare you from the grime that clings to his skin.

But you can’t bring yourself to care about the dirt when his touch feels like an electric jolt of desire. With a fierce determination, you reach out and capture his hands, fingers entwining with his in a passionate embrace.

“I don’t care,” you declare, your voice breathless with longing. You pull him closer, your lips meet in a fiery kiss that speaks of desire and a bond too strong to be deterred by something as trivial as dirty hands.

His laughter dances against your lips, a carefree melody that sets your heart ablaze. 

You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting his with a mischievous spark. 

“Maybe we should take this show on the road,” he suggests, his voice a teasing whisper that sends a thrill through your body. His playful demeanor matches the twinkle in his eyes as he senses the curious gazes of onlookers.

With a soft chuckle, you lean back, breaking the passionate kiss but keeping your connection alive. You both share a knowing look, acknowledging the audience that has unintentionally gathered around. Some wear frowns, their disapproval thinly veiled, while others struggle to look away, curiosity getting the best of them.

After a heartfelt exchange of gratitude with the garage owners, you and Yoongi set out for a local campground nestled just beyond the town’s outskirts. 

Holly’s engine hums with a newfound vibrancy, the haunting clicks and pops replaced by a reassuring purr, a testament to Yoongi’s skillful repair work.

As you approach the campground, the world begins to transform. 

The air is infused with the earthy scent of the surrounding woods, and the fading sunlight casts a warm, golden hue over the landscape. Tall trees stand sentinel, their rustling leaves whispering secrets of countless stories shared beneath their branches.

Arriving at the campground, you find a secluded spot, the van settling into its new temporary home. 

As the sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink, Yoongi takes charge of creating a campfire. With practiced ease, he gathers dry twigs and kindling, coaxing life into the flames until they crackle and dance in the gathering darkness. 

The firelight cast playful shadows, creating an intimate circle of warmth and light.

Together, you prepare a simple yet delicious dinner over the campfire. The scent of roasting marshmallows and the savory aroma of grilled vegetables fills the air, mingling with the smoky fragrance of the crackling wood. 

The orange glow of the flames paints your faces in a warm, flickering embrace as you share stories, laughter, and the occasional playful banter.

Despite your best intentions, your contributions to the culinary efforts may have been minimal, but the camaraderie of preparing a meal together adds a touch of charm to the evening. 

With satisfied appetites and hearts full of contentment, you both settle in for a restful night’s sleep. The soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze plays a soothing lullaby, accompanied by the distant murmur of a nearby stream. Wrapped in your cozy duvets, you drift into dreams beneath the vast, starlit canopy of the night sky.

The next day, you are eager to immerse yourselves in the rich traditions of Andong, a town steeped in history. 

As you step onto the cobblestone streets, a sense of timelessness washes over you. Andong has a unique charm, an old-world aura that whispers stories of centuries past. Wandering through the town, you discover quaint hanok houses with curved roofs, each adorned with intricate wooden carvings and papered windows. 

The streets are lined with vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the backdrop of ancient buildings. Occasionally, you encounter locals in traditional hanbok attire, a living connection to the town’s heritage.

Though the Mask Festival, a renowned celebration of culture and art, has yet to arrive, the beginning of it was already underway as it is just one week away. Small shops and stalls display intricate masks, some whimsical, others deeply solemn. You can’t resist the allure of these artistic creations and pick up a few as keepsakes.

As the first light of dawn gently kisses the horizon, you wake up to the promise of a new day’s adventure. 

The crisp morning air, tinged with the faint aroma of last night’s dinner, fills your senses. With the remnants of a hearty meal beckoning from the campfire’s embers, you decide to start your day with a taste of yesterday’s flavors. 

Sitting beside the smoldering fire, you savor the rich and comforting taste of the previous night’s meal. The warmth of the flames caress your skin, contrasting the cool mountain breeze that rustles through the surrounding trees. 

Each bite of food is a reminder of the shared moments around the campfire and the anticipation of the journey ahead.

With a satisfied belly, you eagerly prepare for the day’s hike. 

Your hiking gear, meticulously chosen for comfort and practicality, awaits its next adventure. As you lace up your sturdy boots, the promise of rugged trails and breathtaking vistas fills your thoughts, igniting a spark of excitement. Your backpack, loaded with essentials, feels like a trusty companion ready to accompany you on this mountain odyssey.

You have heard whispers of the legendary Byongdae cliff and the enchanting Pine Tree Forest that graces these mystical mountains. The tales have woven a tapestry of intrigue in your mind, and now, standing on the precipice of reality, you feel an irresistible pull to explore these fabled wonders.

Your journey begins amidst the towering giants of the Pine Tree Forest, a cathedral of nature’s grandeur. As you step into this tranquil grove, the air is saturated with the earthy scent of pine needles, a fragrant welcome that envelops your senses.

The sun filters through the dense canopy above, casting dappled shadows that dance at your feet. 

Each step you take feels like a pilgrimage through a sacred woodland, the ancient trees bearing witness to the passage of time itself. You crane your neck to look up, their lofty branches reaching for the heavens, as if sharing secrets with the sky. 

Birds serenade you with their melodic tunes, their songs echoing through the forest like a chorus of hidden muses. With each inhalation, you taste the purity of the forest air, a crisp elixir that invigorates your spirit.

As you wander deeper into this verdant sanctuary, you find yourself in the company of nature’s most exquisite creations. The pine trees stand sentinel, their trunks adorned with mossy tapestries, and their branches, adorned with tufts of emerald needles, sway in a gentle, rhythmic ballet.

Emerging from the woodland, you find yourself at the water’s edge, where the tranquil surface mirrors the cerulean sky above. 

Here, a quaint wooden ferry awaits, bobbing gently on the crystal-clear waters. 

With each paddle stroke, the boat glides effortlessly, carrying you and Yoongi closer to your next adventure.

The cliff looms ahead, a majestic sentinel of nature’s artistry. Its rugged facade rises from the water like a monolithic masterpiece, adorned with mosses and lichens, a testament to the passage of time. The boat docks at its base, and your anticipation grows. 

The ascent up the cliff is a thrilling endeavor, each step revealing a new facet of the picturesque village below. The air is invigorating, infused with the scent of salt and pine, while the distant sounds of village life, like the cheerful chatter of locals and the distant bleating of sheep, waft up to greet you. 

With every upward stride, the panorama unfolds, transforming the village into a living, breathing diorama beneath the vast expanse of the cerulean sky.

As you finally conquer the summit, a triumphant sense of achievement washes over you. 

The world unfolds before your eyes in a breathtaking panorama, a tapestry of nature’s artistry and the village’s quaint charm. 

You find a quiet spot to rest, nestled among the craggy rocks, where the gentle breeze carries with it the scent of adventure and the distant laughter of villagers below. Sitting there, you let the serenity of the moment seep into your bones. The sun bathes you in its golden warmth, the crisp mountain air fills your lungs, and the distant chirping of birds adds a harmonious touch to the symphony of nature. 

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the earth beneath you, grounding yourself in this tranquil haven.

As you gaze from the rugged precipice, your voice slips into a soft, almost reverent whisper, “I’ll miss this so much when our vacation ends,” your eyes tracing the contours of the village sprawled far below.

“Weekend camping trips are always an option.” 

Yoongi suggests, his gaze lingering on the delicate contours of your face, taking in your beauty.

You turn to face Yoongi, your eyes sparkling with stars, and a surge of wonder and excitement infusing your voice, “Really?”

“Yeah.” 

He nods, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek, his finger lightly tracing over your soft lips, leaving a tantalizing sensation in its wake.

Reluctantly, you begin your descent, your steps lighter now, the memories of the panoramic view etched into your heart. The wooden ferry awaits, its creaking timbers echoing with tales of countless journeys. 

As you board, the gentle sway of the boat on the water lulls you into a peaceful reverie. You watch as the cliff recedes into the distance, still an indomitable sentinel against the azure sky.

Returning to the village, you carry with you the sense of wonder and accomplishment that only a day spent among nature’s wonders can bring, a memory that will forever remain etched in your mind.

Your exploration also takes you to a serene temple nestled in the hills. The scent of incense hangs in the air as you marvel at the intricate architecture and the palpable sense of tranquility. Yoongi, always with an appreciation for the cultural significance of such places, captures the moment with his camera, preserving the beauty for eternity.

Fatigued from your adventurous day, you and Yoongi decide it’s time to savor the local flavors of Andong. 

A quaint restaurant beckons with the promise of culinary delights. The warm, inviting aroma of simmering spices and savory sauces wafts through the air as you step inside.

Seated at a wooden table, you peruse the menu with eager anticipation. Your eyes fall upon the legendary Andong Soju, its allure heightened by its formidable 40% alcohol content. With a knowing glance exchanged between you and Yoongi, you agree to indulge in moderation, not wanting to let the potent elixir spoil your evening.

As you sip the clear, fiery liquid from small glasses, you can feel the warmth spreading through your veins. The Soju carries the essence of Andong, a taste that hints at the town’s history and traditions, and it adds an extra layer of authenticity to your dining experience. 

For dinner, you decide to follow the advice of the locals and order the Jjimdak, a delectable dish that embodies the heart of Korean cuisine. Braised chicken and an array of vibrant vegetables, lovingly marinated in rich Korean soy sauce, arrive at your table. The dish is a burst of colors and textures, a tantalizing blend of sweet and savory flavors that dance on your taste buds.

As you dine, you can’t help but admire the cozy ambiance of the restaurant, filled with the cheerful chatter of fellow diners and the soothing melodies of traditional Korean music playing softly in the background. 

The flickering candlelight adds a touch of romance to the atmosphere.

Under the dimly lit Andong streets, you and Yoongi stroll hand in hand, feeling the subtle sway of the evening. 

The Andong Soju, though sipped cautiously, has lent a gentle, tipsy euphoria to your steps. The world takes on a dreamlike quality as you navigate the winding paths and narrow alleys. As you walk, the night envelops you in a comforting embrace. The soft glow of streetlights casts warm, golden pools on the cobblestone streets, guiding your way. 

The air is alive with the distant murmur of laughter and the melodious hum of crickets, serenading your tipsy journey. You steal glances at Yoongi, his features illuminated by the soft city lights. His eyes sparkle with a shared secret, and his smile, slightly crooked from the Soju’s influence, is irresistibly endearing. 

Every touch of his hand in yours sends delightful shivers through your tipsy senses.

As you approach Holly, it stands as a steadfast companion, a haven of familiarity in the midst of the Andong night. You pause for a moment, swaying gently together, and share a soft, lingering kiss beneath the moonlight. 

The taste of Yoongi and Soju lingers on your lips.

With your hearts light and spirits high, you finally settle into Holly, ready for a restful night’s sleep. The world outside may spin with a tipsy enchantment, but in each other’s arms, you find balance and serenity, cherishing the memories created in the charming town of Andong.

A few days before your planned rendezvous with Joonie, Jinie, and Hobi in Daejeon, you embark on a detour to Gumi, a place of natural beauty and tranquility. 

Your destination is the enchanting Geumosan Reservoir, a serene oasis nestled amidst rolling hills and lush forests. As you approach the reservoir, the scent of pine and earth fills the air, awakening your senses to the wilderness that lies ahead. 

The anticipation builds in your chest, knowing that an adventure awaits you amidst the pristine landscape.

Upon arrival, you’re greeted by the shimmering waters of the reservoir, reflecting the azure sky like a flawless mirror. The surrounding hills are cloaked in vibrant shades of green, and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze becomes your symphony.

You and Yoongi don your hiking gear, ready to explore the intricate network of trails that wind through this natural wonder. 

The first step onto the trail sends a jolt of excitement through you as the earth crunches beneath your boots, and you feel the rhythm of nature beneath your feet. The hike takes you along paths that meander through dense woods, opening up to breathtaking vistas that steal your breath away. 

The cool breeze carries the sweet aroma of wildflowers, and the distant call of birds adds a melodic soundtrack to your journey.

Yoongi’s hand in yours provides a reassuring anchor as you both marvel at the splendor of nature. 

Each step forward feels like an adventure, a shared exploration of the world’s wonders.

After a day of hiking, you find a serene spot near the reservoir’s edge to rest. You sit side by side, feet dangling above the crystal-clear water, and share a quiet moment of awe. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the beauty that surrounds you.

“I just love nature,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning gently against your shoulder, his words carrying a sense of serenity, “the tranquility, the freedom to wander and reflect on life.”

You exhale audibly, your voice brimming with happiness, “I completely understand,” you say, your hand finding its way to his thigh, “This getaway is exactly what I needed to escape from the stresses of work,” you add, resting your head against his shoulder and savoring the moment.

He hums in contentment, “Indeed, it sounded like you were in desperate need of a break,” he says, his voice soft and reassuring.

“Yeah, you know I genuinely love my job, but recently the stress has really taken its toll.” 

You say, your voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. You can’t help but feel conflicted about your career, torn between your passion for it and the overwhelming stress it sometimes brings.

“I’m grateful this trip has been a relief,” he says, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. His words carry a warmth that reassures you, making you appreciate the escape from your daily pressures even more.

You exhale softly, your fingers finding comfort in his, and ask, “What’s your next destination in mind?” 

Your eyes meet his, filled with anticipation for the adventures yet to come.

He starts rambling with an endearing enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “I heard about a science center nearby. I know neither of us is a science geek, but I thought it might still be a lot of fun,” he says, his smile revealing those charming gums of his. You can’t help but find it absolutely adorable.

“I’m up for it. Honestly, everything with you is a blast, so I’m all in,” you reply, your voice filled with enthusiasm. You turn your head and punctuate your agreement with a passionate kiss, locking lips with his soft, inviting ones.

Although science has never been your forte, you decide to pay a visit to the local Science Center in Gumi. 

As you step into this world of discovery and innovation, you’re pleasantly surprised by the sense of wonder that envelops you. Together with Yoongi, you explore the center’s myriad exhibits, each one a gateway to the extraordinary. 

The museum’s interactive displays and hands-on activities offer a chance to hold hands with your boyfriend while delving into the mysteries of the universe.

One exhibit captures your attention—a dazzling planetarium show that transports you to distant galaxies. With the domed ceiling overhead, you and Yoongi recline in cushioned seats, your fingers intertwined, and watch as stars and constellations come to life, painting the cosmos with their celestial beauty.

The immersive experience ignites a newfound curiosity within you, as you realize that science has the power to evoke awe and inspire even to those who never thought they’d be interested.

Leaving the Science Center, you walk hand in hand, the spark of connection between you and Yoongi shining brighter than ever.

As the day unfolds, you and Yoongi decide to hit the bowling alley. 

You both step into those classic rented shoes, each pair slightly too large, and claim your own lane, creating a private haven for laughter and competition. The joy of the game isn’t just in the strikes and spares but in the shared experience. 

Yoongi, with his effortless bowling prowess, takes the lead. He patiently guides you, showing you how to hold the ball and improve your stance. Despite his best efforts, your balls still veer off course, but it hardly matters. What truly matters is the closeness you share. With each instruction he gives, his hands gently brush against yours, fingers lingering just a moment longer. 

You cherish these stolen moments of connection, realizing that it’s not about perfect strikes but the perfect touch and laughter that make this game unforgettable. As the pins clatter and balls roll, you’re grateful for the opportunity to have fun together, even if it means embracing your ineptitude at bowling. 

As your journey alone with Yoongi approaches its final destination, you find yourself in Yeongdong, a place where nature’s grandeur unfolds in breathtaking ways. Your destination? 

The enchanting Wolrybong peak, a majestic mountain that seems to touch the sky itself.

The ascent is filled with moments of awe as you navigate through winding trails, surrounded by lush, verdant forests. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, invigorating your senses with each breath. The trail occasionally opens up, revealing glimpses of the surrounding cliffs and pristine waters below, a mesmerizing sight that leaves you spellbound.

Upon reaching the summit, you find yourself standing on the edge of the world, overlooking a vast expanse of untouched beauty. 

Cliffs stand tall and proud, their rugged faces meeting the azure waters that stretch as far as the eye can see. It’s a scene that defies description, and for a moment, you feel like you’re part of a painting, a tiny speck in the grand canvas of nature.

In those tranquil moments, the world fades away, leaving you and Yoongi with nothing but the majesty of nature surrounding you. You take it all in, cherishing this time together.

As the sun sets behind the peaks, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, you can’t help but feel grateful for the opportunity to witness such beauty and to share it with the one you love. 

As the days wind down to the end of your adventurous journey, you decide to indulge in a well-deserved period of relaxation. Nestled in the cozy confines of Holly, you and Yoongi find solace in quiet moments together. The gentle hum of nature outside, the soft rustling of leaves, and the distant chirping of birds create a soothing symphony.

Wrapped in each other’s warmth, you savor the simple pleasure of just being together. The world outside may be bustling with activity, but within your private haven, time slows down, allowing you to bask in the tranquility that surrounds you.

There’s a contented sigh as you lean into Yoongi’s comforting embrace, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat echoing in sync with yours. 

Holly’s interior becomes your sanctuary, a place where laughter, stories, and stolen kisses create an intimate bond that feels like a haven of love.

As the time comes to drive to Daejeon to reunite with your friends, you do so with hearts full of cherished memories and a renewed sense of connection. 

The journey continues, but now it’s not just about the places you visit; it’s about the love and experiences you carry with you, making every mile of the road a testament to your new official relationship.

→ Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I appreciate every like, comment and reblog, and please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think;  your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜 → Taglist: @idkjustlovingbts, @constancelayon, @wobblewobble822, @ktownshizzle, @moonchild1, @ultimatefangirl0, @baechugff, @jimintaemin, @parapiop7, @fckkntired, @iluvfndms, @citypop-princess, @tarahardcore, @bergandysam, @massivelyfullenthusiast, @tatyhend *strikethrough means tumblr isn’t letting me tag you :(

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[akioukun]

Some concept development for something new I’m not a writer so please forgive me: Steve’s never seen anything like the new Summer. Sure, the previous one was  all laid back smiles and carefree attitude; hitting coastlines with bright warm days and gentle breezes. Filling backwater towns with the zest for summer evenings, lounging lazy on deck chairs in the balmy, slow heat.  This ones different. Coastlines are filled with the roar of the ocean, packed tight with people escaping the heatwaves. Evenings filled with the heavy crack of thunder, a promise of humid storms backed by the hum of thousands of cicadas.  Yeah this Summer is fiery, unpredicatable. Fast intense fun one minute, out of control the next. He bowled Steve over on their first Equinox meeting. Said he planned on sticking around so Steve shouldn’t expect an easy handover of the hemisphere.

Said his name was Billy. And Steve wants to know more. 

[woundlingus]

Sabriel needed to happen in the woods in one of those dirty little tents in the middle of the night in the AU world the same night that Lucifer brought Sam back and paraded him around the camp like his prize dog, ringing the bell loud and clear that Sam Winchester is a coward who would submit to the devil and dash any chance Sam would ever get of finding community with these people who already are so wary of angels, now out of all the angels Sam is the devil’s bitch to these people and he brought Satan to haunt their refugee camp because he’s too weak to die like a man.

It happens wordlessly and all at once because when Gabriel comes to check on Sam he can’t find the right words to say because it’s too horrible and he knows it all too personally so he says nothing at all, and Sam is too fragile to try and hand hold Gabriel through experiencing empathy right now, so the silence sits heavy and thick with the intimacy of knowing what the other has seen and experienced and it’s suffocating them and the space is so small they’re already basically crammed together and can feel each others breath, and they thought they were going to die out there and they still just might because it’s dangerous, because Lucifer is outside lurking in their camp, because Gabriel doesn’t have any real intention of surviving this either way.

The first kiss is all teeth and tongue, and barely a spared thought enough to zip the door shut behind Gabriel before he’s pressing Sam into the floor to grind against him with a hunger that says this has been more than an impulse decision and more like a quietly brewing desire that’s lingered in the back of his mind for some time. It’s rough and dirty, grabbing hands, and spit for lube. They’re a mess of trading sadomasochistic tendencies without any real struggle for dominance- neither of them are particularly capable of it after everything they’ve been through but there’s a simple comfort in the giving and taking of pain and passing the roles between them like addicts chasing the next quite literal hit while maintaining that safety net of knowing neither of them are actually going to dominate the other. Gabriel grabs Sam by the throat to hold him down and despite his short stature the guy is packing some surprising muscle under that jacket and it’s enough to subdue even Sam while in his weakened resurrected state, Gabriel takes Sam’s ability to control his own body by holding him down, and in turn Sam rakes his nails down Gabriel’s throat hard enough to draw blood. Sam would come back around with the sweet release of Gabriel’s fingers allowing the blood to reach his brain right before the lights went out, and they would flip their positions so Sam could press sweet kisses to Gabriel’s wounded skin and it would make them both moan when Sam runs his tongue over Gabriel’s injuries to lap up his blood and the mingling grace that rises to the surface to heal the cuts, and consumes it wholly, connecting them in their combined sins, and making a mockery of the hell they’ve both been through at the hands of demons who aimed to own them by taking pleasure in their shared perversion of the agony. It’s hot and sweaty and the tent beads with humidity.

They’re bad people. They’re cowards. They’re weak and created specifically for being dominated. They’re not aiming for there to be a winner here, they just crave the punishment. For leading Lucifer to camp, for not being strong enough to protect Sam to begin with. When you’re so filled with agony and shame there’s a release to being in the presence of someone who doesn’t need you to be pretty about your trauma, and right now in the dark of the night they offer that solace to each other with their bodies.

Gabriel would wind up over Sam and gently shush him when he whimpers that it burns as he fingers him, and Sam would clamp his hand over Gabriel’s mouth to silence him so they don’t draw attention when he finally fucks him.

Neither of them particularly mind the submission to the others acts against them because the sick and broken parts of them say this feels good and normal, the quieter but worse part says that if they like this then maybe they liked all of it all along, but they’re certainly not going to admit that to anyone nor do they have to because Gabriel will stay until the tent starts to lighten with the grey haze of the dawning sun and then he will wordlessly slip out and Sam won’t try and stop him. He wont try and stop him until Gabriel is saying goodbye, and by then it’s too late because Gabriel always knew he wouldn’t be coming home with them one way or another.

At least they had that to Gabriel, at least there was some final comfort in his last days to finally feel like he was no longer so alone in the world, that he let someone else bear witness to his humiliation and they found pleasure in it instead. Sam on the other hand is forced to live with it, because he has duty, because he has family. Sam will go home and his whole body will echo with the emptiness Gabriel carved out inside of him by first filling a hole he had grown to ignore with ease, and then ripping himself back out of it again with a cruelty that came so easy to a trickster. He had been known, he had been known wholly for just a short moment in time by someone other than Lucifer and it had been bliss. Now he’s alone again, and he must continue without

[drapopia]

the flames devour (everything that we are)

pairing: (young) sister imperator x (young) papa nihil emeritus

warnings: SMUT! vaginal sex, vaginal fingering/cunnilingus, groupie sex/mild infidelity, a messy coupling, some light angst and mentioned misogyny, mentioned past murder, set around the late 60's but before the Kiss the Go Goat incident, only Primo and Secondo exist

summary: Control, power, fame. Everything Sister Imperator promised the Clergy that the Ghost Project would culminate and more. But when push comes to shove and Nihil can't look past the packed backstage doors, someone has to put their foot down. (Surprise, surprise. It's not Sister Imperator).

word count: 10.2k

authors note: special thanks to @barelydaisy for commissioning this piece from me! the gratitude i feel towards you makes me ever so fond! i hope whoever reads this enjoys it, comments/reblogs/likes are always appreciated!

MINORS DNI

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Facetious. Flippant. Exaggeratedly stupid enough to make her head thrum with anger on a daily basis. How unfortunate that he be so alluring. 

The motel lobby was stuffy, the air thick and humid with the hum of the heater. She assumed it was the owner’s fault the heat was up so high, the flurries of snow outside swirling across the frosted panes of glass. She looked at the carpet below her, mottled with green and brown in an unappealing combination. It was a struggle to push down the urge to scoff.

Lifting her head, she studied the features in the dimly lit foyer. The furniture was mismatched in an abysmal show of ‘interior design’ skills, a mixing of modern and so dreadfully outdated that it made her want to retch. Resisting the urge to openly huff, Imperator pulled her coat tighter around her. The fur trim tickles against her neck, her hair further up than normal and lessening the chance of it whipping in the wind. The silk scarf wrapped around her head protects her ears, and heightens the anticipation of walking into a room and having all eyes on her. 

She walks closer to the small front office window, peering in a bit more. The urge to ring the call bell and finally get some goddamn service was at the forefront of her mind. The dingy carpet, the thick lining of dust in the creases of the front desk, she could go on about the reasons she wished they were at another motel. To put it lightly, they were shit out of luck. She was no stranger to dingy motels, but the fact that they were better than that was a nagging thought in the back of her mind.

The tour was going well. In fact, better than well. Throngs of screaming fans, clubs and bars packed with people begging for an opportunity to see Papa Nihil up close. From her spot in the wings, Sister Imperator watched with subtle glee. She knew that Nihil was charismatic, but she hadn’t anticipated the reception they had gotten from the public. There were those in it for the music, for Satan, or more overwhelmingly for him. The dingy bars had been acceptable to play, the low tickets quickly piling into more than they had ever imagined possible for the Clergy. 

Sister had fought for the Ghost project, staring down the eyes of men she knew only wanted to see her on her back with her legs spread. Men who wouldn’t shirk the chance to push her down for fun, to throw down her ideas with a lackadaisical “We’ll consider it.” But Sister Imperator had listened to her, looked at her ideas with an interest that led to her taking a young woman with wild ideas under her wing. And now here she was, with her title and her status, a former name now neglected, a shallow grave in the woods at the Abbey that nobody would find,  and a small syringe hidden in a lockbox that she had thrown away the key to. 

But with fame and a message spreading far quicker than anticipated, Sister couldn’t help but wish to stretch the budget in other ways. For once she would like to lay her head in a bed she hadn’t voraciously searched for bed bugs, stripping the sheets to find cigarette burns in the mattress. Nihil hadn’t cared, simply flopping down beside her and mouth opening in an uncaring yawn. Though they had separate rooms, it was seldom that they spent the night away from one another. Though she was loath to admit it, she had grown used to the weight of his head on her chest and the rise and fall of his breath on her nightgown. The road was lonely, who else to turn to but him? Practically any ghoul or stage hand , she thought to herself. But where was the fun in that?

Her line of thought was broken as she heard the waddling gait of the man stationed at the front desk, his non-slip shoes certainly close to slipping on the waxed linoleum. He appeared at the window, the flannel buttoned so tightly around his neck that she was frightened it was strangling him. 

He let out a huff, flipping through the pages of paperwork that the Clergy had sent months earlier in preparation for the tour. Three rooms, two for her and Nihil and one for any reclusive ghouls that didn’t want to pile in on the bus. The man looked at her, locking eyes with an uninterested, if slightly bored, look. “Alright, I found the work in the back. Took me a minute, but it was just tucked away. You have ID, right?” 

Sister nodded, her hand reaching into the mustard yellow vinyl bag she kept her clutch in. After flicking through her pocket change, she found her ID behind Nihil’s credit card. She grabbed it, placing it down on the cracked plastic of the desk and pushing it towards the man. Though she had gloves on, she didn’t trust how clean the man's hands were and didn’t want to risk him staining the crisp white of her faux fur gloves. (She cared little for the plight of the leather industry, but she couldn’t deny the news articles dampened her excitement for a new addition to her closet). 

The man picked up the ID, gave it a cursory glance and nodded his head in acceptance. His hand slid under the desk, looking around for the keys no doubt. She turned around, her arms lightly wrapped around herself as the heater had stopped its incessant blasting. She turned in a half circle, her boots clicking against the floor once and then stopping. Her eyes turned to the window, the flurries coming down as mercilessly as they had been when they had rolled into the parking lot. 

The light from the overhead street light shone hazy light over the parking lot, blending into the dark of the winter night as seamlessly as cream stirred into coffee. The bus was in the distance, the tinted lights only showing blurry shapes moving against the inside of the vehicle. That wasn’t what she glimpsed that snatched her attention away from the moment.

 Leaning against the pillar of the motel was the curved posture of Nihil, his coat wrapped around his waist in a way that posited his sculpted abdomen that anybody would blush at. His makeup was still painted on, though a familiar eye could tell where it was beginning to pill on his neck from the copious sweat that poured down in the stage lights. His legs were crossed behind him, his platforms digging into the swirls of snow that would no doubt accumulate over night. Even through the heat of his body, the flakes of snow drifting down had caught on the unruly strands of hair and failed to melt. That wasn’t what Sister couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from. 

Nihil’s arm was placed along the hip of a woman, unknown to her. No doubt a fan from the way the woman’s lips were curled into gleeful disbelief at her luck. Sister could almost imagine the tittering, the vapid flustering of words that had become so commonplace that all she could do was turn with a roll of her eyes and a tap of her cigarette. The woman’s lips moved, and Sister could see Nihil’s mouth open in a laugh, the easy smile on his face directed at her. The hand on the woman’s hip visibly gripped tighter, pulling her closer to the warmth of his torso. The woman’s hand raised, gripping his clothed bicep and running up and down. Mocking. 

Nihil turned, the woman moving alongside him and his arm curling around her hips, her deliciously full waist. His fingers pulled at the flesh, and his touch was… soft. Unfamiliar and with an air of understanding that no doubt made the woman’s stomach flutter with warmth. Had she ever been touched by a man, a woman? The intoxicating knowledge that she had sealed the deal with Papa Nihil, up and coming star of the Olde One himself. Did she know just how well his fingers moved, how his cock had made so many feel like their world was melting around them? She soon would. 

Sister’s face was blank, her eyes narrowed in contemplation and thinly veiled vexation. Her stomach was simmering with… rage? Unclear. Her gloves squeaked as her hands squeezed together, her arms still crossed tightly together. 

“Ma’am?” A voice said behind her, and she turned on her heel. What now? Imperator thought, her eyes flicking down at the set of keys on the ledge of the desk and her irritation fading. She picked up the key, gripping it in her hand. 

The front desk attendant reached into the drawer, his head tilting up to meet her gaze. “Do you want the other key for your friend?” He motioned his head, leaning on his foot to look at Nihil outside. 

Sister shook her head, her hair weighing heavy on top of it. She still needed to take a shower, unravel the intricate pins around her bun, and unpack her clothes for the morning. She let out a sigh, a careful shrug of her shoulders as she craned her head around to look out the window once more. Still in the cold, Nihil’s arms were wrapped tightly around the woman, his lips latched onto her neck and her mouth open in what was undoubtedly a wanton moan. In the middle of the night, no one was around to see them. But Sister knew he would have done it onstage, at an after party, on an altar at Black Mass for Satan’s sake. 

She swiftly turned her head, meeting his gaze and pointedly dropping a twenty on the cracked plastic once more. “He can do it himself, I’m certain he can manage.” Her voice came out firm and stiff in the quiet of the lobby, and she turned to walk to the door. While she could ignore the way he licked at the woman's ear, turning pink from the bitter gusts of wind, she couldn’t ignore the simmering heat in her stomach. But there was nothing saying she couldn’t try. 

___________________

The heat of the dressing room was sweltering, the push and pull of bodies making Imperator’s lip curl in disgust. The heat of the fire ghoul to her left was making her sweat, and she couldn’t afford to stain the new Emilio Pucci dress she had purchased earlier that day. The pink and green pattern helped to disguise the sweat no doubt attempting to push its way past her slip, the silk cool against her skin in the overwhelming bustle before the show. She was happy she opted to wear her hair in a high bun, the bump in her hair allowing the thin air to waft against her neck. 

As she studied the people (and otherwise) in the room, her eyes landed on Nihil naturally. His hands were steady as he painted the lines across his lips, his mouth open in what would be a gasp if the thought to do so struck him. She smiled, her hand raising to her lips and taking a small drag of her cigarette. She let her hand fall away, tapping the ash into the crowded ashtray to her left. As the months in the tour had gone on, she had felt drawn towards Nihil. Long nights were spent with him nestled into her side, speaking about where they had come from, their dreams, what toppings they would add to a sundae, what colors they look best in. It was hard to deny the way her heart pounded when he drew near, though she hid it behind a stern demeanor and a perfectly drawn on smile. 

The door opened, a ghoul walking in and looking towards Nihil. “Papa? You’ve got a call on the other line, the manager is trying to patch it through to ‘ya.” The earth ghoul spoke in a lethargic sway as he pushed his way through the crowd, the familiar pungent smell of dope stuck to his clothes. Nihil nodded, shooting the ghoul a half painted grin as he set down the brush and reached for the white marbled telephone to his left. He picked it up off the receiver, holding it against his ear. He paused, listening for the feedback of the call. 

“Yello?” Nihil said into the phone, a confused look on his face, though it stretched into a grin as he let the call go on further. “Yes, it’s Papa. I thought you were supposed to be sleeping? Is it not night there, ragazzino? ( little boy).” Nihil’s lips were wide as he snickered into the phone, cradling it to his ear as he listened intently. Imperator could have bled from the ears at the urge to roll her eyes. 

Nihil’s son Primo was sweet, there were no doubts about that. Quiet and intelligent, he was racing through his studies with diligence that was admirable for children his age. However, she couldn’t stop the irritation that fueled her when she saw him, heard his voice. He was a child, for Satan’s sake, she was being unreasonably harsh! But he was part of the bloodline, time would tell if he was worthy of his spot as Papa in adulthood. For now, he would watch Doctor Who and study to be the antipope. What an antithesis, she snorted to herself, pulling her cigarette to her lips for another puff. 

“I will keep you on my mind, make sure to keep an eye out for your little brother. Especially him, I know he has been eating my Cordials. I have eyes on him, the piccola rana. (little frog).” NIhil laughs, his white paint creasing where he had failed to set it. After a minute or so of diligent listening, he shushes into the phone. “Goodnight, tell your fratello I send my love.” A pause, and a look of tired fondness softens his face. “Bye bye.” He pulls the phone away from his ear, placing it back on the receiver with a ring. 

She wouldn’t pry, Sister thought to herself. Though she was never one to shy away from stirring up the mud with a well placed jab, she knew better than to push at the… delicate nature of Nihil’s relationship with his young children. It’s not as though they were all little monsters (She found herself grimacing internally, they weren’t little monsters all the time. But it would be no hard challenge to count on her fingers all the times she’d found leftover Chiclets from Secondo in her purse. Little bastard). 

She rose from her seat, pushing through the ghouls pulling on their clothes for the performance. Walking up to stand behind his desk, she met his gaze in the mirror with a smile barely noticeable in the haze of the dimly lit room. 

Nihil meets her smile with one of his own, his hand deftly gripping the small liner brush to his left and dipping it into the black grease paint. His eyes pull away from hers with a small degree of difficulty, she notices, and looks towards the mirror and continues the small strokes across his lips, above the bow of his upper lip and ending at his full lower lip. Hands rise, resting on his shoulders as she leans slowly down. Sister smiles, pulling in his scent that was so delicately him. How he managed to smell like juniper and basil eluded her, Nihil even going to a point of going into another room to spray his cologne so she couldn’t see the bottle. (“A man has to have some sort of mystery, si?” He had laughed, and she responded with a scoff. It still didn’t stop her from scouring every perfume counter in every city to find it). 

She leaned her cheek against his, his eyes still locked onto his visage in the mirror, but his hands had a perceptible shake to them. “Nervous?” Sister purred, her pink frosted nails tracing along the line of his black leather coat.

Her cheek pulled away from his, her lips turning to the shell of his ear. Her breath was soft and warm on his ear, a tickle against the skin of his neck that pulled the hair on end quicker than the cold outside. Even in a warm room, Sister made him feel as if he’d gone skinny dipping in November. 

“No, I am not. Merely hot.” His voice was soft in the din of the crowded room. “You would think they would have another room to dress in, si ?”  He smiled at her, adding a thicker line to balance the larger stripe alongside it. Her nails continue to trace along his collar, the soft pads on her finger edging along the skin of his neck. Dipping into the countours of his throat, tracing his Adam’s apple with a calculating grace. His breath was steady, but his eyes, not yet coated with black shadow, were lidded with a hazy fondness. 

An excited yelp from the corner by Nihil’s own guitarist shocked her out of the moment, her hands quickly pulling away. NIhil’s smile dropped in disappointment, but it stilled as Sister’s hands returned to tug his collar closer together and quickly fasten a button.

“We have a budget, Papa.” Sister’s voice said softly, though it was said with such finality so as to stop the train of conversation from going any further. Nihil shrugged, setting down the smaller liner brush and reaching across the table for his loose powder. As he opened his mouth, she knew the attempt would go ignored.

He hummed, looking up at her with a playful smirk, “Oh? And our budget includes a new pair of pumps?” At that her smile becomes an even line, her thin eyebrows furrowing as the words drop from his lips. Of course he had to push too far. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand the limits of their spending allowance. It didn’t stop him picking the most upscale restaurants in the area, loosening the buttons on his shirts as more and more drinks were sent to the table, the way his eyes roamed the women who passed by. To her annoyance, he had never noticed the way her hands gripped the stem of her wine glass with vitriol, how she met the gaze of every curious woman and turned their eyes away. 

“Yes. Just as it apparently includes a new coat and- oh? What’s this?” Sister’s hands shot towards him, gripping his wrist with care. She held it with tightness, making sure not to hurt Nihil. Never hurt, she told herself. Sister’s eyes sparked with a curious viciousness, but her stomach burned with ire.

“A new watch? Where could you have possibly gotten this little gem?” She hummed similarly to his own playful song moments beforehand. If there was one thing Imperator could do, she could match someone’s game. In kindness or in truculence. 

Nihil’s smile didn’t drop, but the kidnapped arm rose and cupped her cheek. She sighed, resisting the urge to lean into his palm. The hand remained around his wrist, but she let it it go somewhat lax. The thick curls of hair along his arms were soft, though the wiry swirls of hair along his stomach were similar but not quite so coarse. Her thumb rubbed along his wrist, a gentle back and forth. 

“I want to look nice for you, Sister.” Nihil’s accent and the curiously odd intones of ‘Sister’ made her cheeks tighten with the urge to giggle, and the tight smile made Nihil’s lip lift even further.. “Do I not look nice for you? I try so hard, you know this.” He pouts, the pop of his lower lip making her smile spread further. Damn fool, she thought to herself. Was she speaking about herself, or Papa? She could parcel through these thoughts later in the obscured dark of the tour bus. 

“You do.” Sister said in a low mumble. The way her stomach buzzed was unfamiliar, the compressed feeling around her lungs making it hard to conceive of any thought besides how Nihil smiled at her, the way his hand fit along her hip and how her hand had never felt so drawn to touch someone. His skin was so warm, a sunkissed tan that made her buzz with something unknown. Or maybe she had always known. 

He pulled away, and she fought the urge to jump towards his arms again and pull him to her. No, she wouldn’t stoop to begging. He turned to the mirror, patting the powder into his lips. “Good! The crowd will love it, always so attentive. The doors are open after performances, as always.” His eyes gleamed, the devilish glow of his one white eye gleaming in the muted warmness of this damnedly hot room. Could it compare to the warmth in Sister Imperator’s chest? 

The fuzziness she had felt moments earlier was extinguished in that single sentence, burned by the way she had to stop herself from reaching forward and throttling him right then and there. How stupid could a man be? She was stunned every single day by the utter idiocy of men, going from not knowing how to do laundry all the way to this. She let her face go blank, what other course of action was there? If she followed her emotions, Papa Nihil would be buried in a shallow grave behind this very club. To hold her in his hands, and then casually drop that he wanted to get his dick wet? 

Satan, maybe she should have listened to her mother and just become a lesbian in Boston instead. 

Sister straightened her posture. “Of course they’re always open.” she said coldly. Her hands folded in front of her. They’re always fucking open. 

His eyes look towards her, the grin still on his face but his eyes speak of something she can’t pin. She turns around, pushing through the throng of bodies with the force needed. Nihil has the right to his body, just as she does to her own. She could find any man in this glorified venue, pull them into an alcove and possibly cum. There’s no guarantee of that, she thought, fighting back the mocking laugh that wanted to tumble out of her mouth. 

But she won’t. She won’t do that. 

_____________________

The crowd was loud, though the indescribable energy that had pulsed in the room minutes earlier had fallen as the show had come to a close. Sister Imperator looked from the wings, Nihil was glorious. Sweat dripped from his chin, his eye gleaming in the stage lights as he pranced along the edge of the stage. His shirt was unbuttoned, the ringlets of hair soaked under the fabric. His boots were clinking against the floor, the pointed tips tapping in a calculated rhythm. Women were lined along the edge, their hair curled and their lashes stark against pastel blues and blush pinks. Pink blush against dark skin, similar beads of sweat lining their cleavage that was oh so pointedly pushed forward. All for Nihil. And she knew that he knew, regardless of if he had made the asinine comments earlier. 

She turned, walking along the dark corners. Stage hands were leisurely walking, some carrying side lights and some carrying cords, wrapped in loops and gingerly carried to storage closets nearby. She needed a cigarette before he came back there, shucking his coat off and waiting for women to fall to their knees before him, to curl up in his arms. 

She felt the familiar burn in her stomach of anger, of envy. Where the hell did she put her handbag again? She slid along the walls, feeling her way through the dark as her boots clicked along the waxed floor. The burn of eyes along her legs made her grimace, one more nuisance to deal with. Being honest with herself, all she wanted right now was to be curled up in her blankets back at the hotel, pleasantly sated and sweaty, held in Nihil’s arms and dozing in the glow of the television set. But no, she had to see him go back to his room with one, if not several , women running their hands along his thin body. 

She needed a cigarette.

The space opened, the stairs leading back to the green room intersection between a larger side door. She sighed, the flow of air leveling out in the space, away from sweaty rugged men. Reaching for the door, she felt the sweat at the nape of her neck go blessedly cold. A break was what she needed, it would be another hour or so before Sister had the opportunity to be completely alone with a nice glass of champagne. Damn it all, she’d pay for the room service her fucking self. The last thing she wanted after a night like this was the Clergy treasurer waking her up in the night wondering why they’d been notified by the hotel of another ‘useless’ purchase. 

Imperator leaned against the wall, the high collar of her patterned dress constricting the skin around her neck. She was lucky she had done her hair so high, the beehive allowing her to feel the cold air on her skin as best as she could. As best as she could, the thought mocked her. Out of all the times Nihil had fucked her into the bed, it had been her controlling his moves. Grabbing him by the hair and moans punching out from his throat, riding him until he cried from the sheer ecstasy of the orgasms rung from his overextended body, sucking him down in the shitty tour bus bunks when the ghouls had finally taken the message and left. And here he was, leering over the edge of the stage like he called the shots. 

Sister Imperator knew he couldn’t take initiative if it offered itself up with its legs spread. Why the hell would he start now, she lamented. 

The door to her left opened, the conversation high and energetic. As the door opened, she met the gaze of three women. Their conversation halted, noticing the woman on their right. She doesn’t look at their clothes, what point does it serve? They’re back here now and have come for a reason. At one point, she had made a point to memorize what they wore. How their belts cinched their waists, how their breasts spilled softly from their blouses in an appealing display of warmth. Not that she stewed on it, she would just have a bartender conveniently card them, or they would just so happen to lose their tickets. 

Her eyes meet with the first woman. She smiles, a warm if not curious smile. “Hey, sorry to bother, but could you point us in the direction of the dressing rooms?” Her smile is toothy, Imperator files this knowledge away. 

Sister crosses her arms, steeling her features into a cold impasse. “No, they don’t have one.” Her voice is oppressive. 

The other woman with a pale nude lip, stark against the darkness of her skin and softness of her cheeks blinks and screws her face in skepticism. The confusion is clear on her face. Here’s the thing about Sister Imperator: she doesn’t give two shits about her confusion. Sister is tired, her face baking under the powder she applied earlier that day, her feet burning from her platformed boots.

She’s not quite inclined to point these women towards Nihil and exclaim, “Here he is! His cock is always ready! Would you like condoms, or would you prefer to go raw? Both are enjoyable, I surely would know!” 

At this point in the night, she’s far more inclined to being difficult. 

“They don’t have a dressing room?” The first lady intones, her head tilting as she pouts in confusion. 

“Precisely.” Sister says dryly, her eyes narrowing. Her arms, still crossed tightly, allow her to tap her fingers along her arm in impatience. The woman laughs, smiling at Sister. She clearly hasn’t caught on that Sister Imperator would rather be anywhere but here, especially in front of these other women. 

“So does Papa just get changed in the hallways? That’d be a gas.” She giggles, leaning against the propped door. The other two women ignore her, exchanging a look that spelled their confusion more clearly than if they had spoken aloud. 

Sister scoffs sarcastically, her lips lifting in sardonic aggression. “Yes, it surely would be.” The last thing she wanted was a conversation, just let her get her fucking cigarettes, go home and have a good cry away from where anyone could see her. 

The woman smiles at her once more, looking forward and then turning her head back. “Do you know where he might actually be? We wanted to see him before we ditched here.”

Imperator can feel her smile tighten, shaking her head. Get the hint, lady, good fucking Lord. “He ditched earlier. You just missed him.” Her fingers still rap against her arm, the flickering lightbulb above making one of the other woman’s eye begin twitching. The toothy woman’s face falls, her smile twisting into a pout. 

“Bummer.” She sighs, turning back to retreat back through the door. The third woman, her eyes narrowed, lets her eyes run over Sister’s appearance. She scoffs in dismissal, turning back. But before Sister can sigh in relief, her night continues its downward spiral into her own foray into the question of her own sanity. 

The space is swallowed by the dark leather and painted face of Nihil himself, panting heavily. Though the sweat has been patted away from his face, his neck is red with exertion. Of fucking course. His eyes turned to her, and then to the three women currently staring at him with varying degrees of joy. 

“Oh, hello!” Nihil chimes, his eyes flicking to Sister and then the women once more. “I do not think we have had the pleasure of meeting, no?” The women smile at him, the one in the front walking forward and daringly placing a hand on his arm. 

“We were in the crowd, Papa. You were unreal!” She smiles at him, her toothy grin making his own smile widen. Sister watches as the other two women walk closer, closely inspecting his wide white eye that shined intriguingly off in the shaky light of the bulb above them. 

“Your eye is so beautiful, how do you get it like that?” The woman’s nude lips are wide, her arms wrapped around herself in a way that allowed her to push her tits further together. Sister frowned, her stomach roiling with annoyance. Good grief, just get it over with. Have him grab you by the hips and fuck you in his hotel room, leave the next morning and giggle about it with your girlfriends. 

“A gift, bella.” Nihil purred, his hand rising to cup the second woman’s face. Her eyes widen, her cheeks filling out with a flush as he giggles at her. As much as Sister wants to move, she can’t stop. She hadn’t been wooed, as much as she was loath to admit it. Always the one to walk forward first, she had led Nihil along like a puppy on a leash. Of course she loved it, admired how much he turned to her. Either for kindness or guidance, for a fuck on the road late at night, she remained. But had he ever cornered her backstage and let him lick the sweat from her neck without her gripping him by the lapel? 

“A gift? Not meaning to bug out or anything, but the speech you gave on stage was unreal. We’d love to hear more.” Ah, the usual segue. Begging for guidance on the Old One’s beliefs and then fucking at his metaphorical altar. She didn’t care anymore, she couldn’t stand to listen. It was one thing to see it at the hotel last month, another to hear him imply it earlier, but she couldn’t take the scene in front of her. 

Sister turned, pushing gently past the woman at his side and walking past the gaggle. She walks briskly down the way. 

“Mi dispiace belle signore , but I am unfortunately on a tight schedule. Perhaps you could ask one of the ghouls? I’m sure they would be more than happy to speak to such pretty fanciulle.” She can hear the groans of the other women, and the click of their heels as they walk away. The urge to pause and look is strong, but who knows why he did it? Nihil could have already got his rocks off with someone on the way, or the chance of another rendezvous already scheduled. Fool her once, shame on you. Fool her twice, shame on her. She’s already gotten through a third time, and a fourth would just be pathetic. 

She turns the corner to the dressing room, thankfully clear. The packing up tended to go quicker than setting up, so hopefully things were going to plan. Sister still needed to check in, but first she wanted a damn cigarette. She walks across the room, leaning against the couch and looking behind where she had kept it. A growl released from her throat, couldn’t she have anything go right tonight? She wouldn’t cry. She knew better than that. But the tightness in her throat was beginning to hurt, the anger from earlier receding. And the sickly green feeling in the pit of her stomach was back, mocking and ugly. 

A knock behind her, soft and gentle. She didn’t turn, knowing the click of his boot heels as familiar as her childhood home doorbell. 

“Tesoro?” A soft voice calls into the room, loud in the now silent room. Warm earlier with the countless bodies, the lack makes her skin cold under the long draped sleeves of her mini dress. Even adverse to the company of others, she wishes that someone was here to pillow the moment with a stranger's presence. 

“There’s no need to speak so quietly, Papa. We’re the only two here.” Sister says plainly, pushing the emotion out of her voice. All of this because of jealousy towards some fan? Out of all the shows she could have gotten upset over, this is the one? How demeaning. 

“I am aware we’re alone. I see you after all my shows, yes?” She doesn’t turn to look at him, but his hands come to her hips behind her. Imperator stills, the hot sticky feeling in her stomach still there. Why couldn’t she just let it go? Out of all the times she had seen the way he acted, why is now the time she chose to turn her back? 

“Not all of them.” The accusation hangs in the air, Nihil’s hands tight on her hips through the silk of the dress. The heat of his palm almost scalds her, he burns as hot as the sun, a constant inferno that scorches her when she touches him. It burrows into her flesh, finding nirvana in the way he fits inside her. The thought is swiftly cut off as he sighs into her ear, the shell warming with the outtake of breath. She doesn’t move. 

“Si, not all of them. Concerts can be stressful, after parties and such. But do I not come back to your bed?” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Imperator yanked herself out of his grip. She walks across the room, looking into the dressers of the cabinet for her purse. She could just get her purse and walk out, back to the hotel. As soon as this Ghost Project was over, she could go back to her comfortable office and deal with this from the back burner. No more Nihil, no more bastard children, no more goddamned groupies. 

“Indeed you do.” The words grind out of her mouth like a knife on stone, slamming the drawer closed and straightening up from where she had been crouched down. The heels click against the floor quickly, and she gasps once she feels the warmth of his torso pushed against hers, her back pushed against the dresser quickly. She can feel the ledge of the small desk pushed against the small of her back. Sister looks up towards him, the placid look on her face crumbling into something sour, and surly, and she has to stop herself from pushing him away and leaving without her purse. 

The words had never been said aloud by her. Late nights where she imagined Nihil fucking her with abandon, taking her from behind and treating her like one of the sweet little things that came to pray at his altar. It lingered in the atmosphere until she saw a scene like earlier, like a rubber band being pulled tighter and tighter until the middle burned hot from heat. White hot heat settled in between the space between her and Nihil, in the impasse of their stares. Always looking, across a room or when she kissed the overstimulated tears from below his eyes in the night. 

There is understanding finally in his eyes. The crystal clear realization that maybe his actions did matter, through the smoke and haze of the lights above him as he sang and crooned to women who had never even conceptualized an existence beyond a white picket fence. Maybe he had finally crossed the line that had always been there. 

(Maybe, everything has always been filled with maybes between the two of them). 

“ Innamorata… Maybe I have not been so attentive.” He says softly, his gaze never wavers. That infernal eye never moves from its impassive gaze. His hands grip her waist, and she glares. She feels it like a warm hand against her throat, and she banishes the thought. 

“Attentive? There are things you want… an inexperienced fuck in a cheap hotel room with a fan that doesn’t even know where her clit is. By all means, go for it.” She spits out, the words scraping out of her throat by the fine edge of a knife: the same knife has plunged into her back countless times during this tour. Pardoned by their own lord, sanctified in blood and sin, and here they were. 

“Oh? You think I don’t smell it, tesoro? It’s dripping off of you.” His hand slides from her hip to her cunt, a gasp ripping itself from her throat as he cups it softly through her dress. She knows him, knows the way his eye glows, the way his cock is pressed against her leg and how it throbs hot, hard, natural. Oh, and it feels good. Feels, she finds, even better as he rubs the palm of his hand against it. 

“Dripping off of you, dripping out of you? I can think of many things I want to fill you with.” Nihil chisels a space into the emptiness between them, rasping out a groan into her neck as the silk of her dress catches on slick between her legs. She should push him away, but it feels too good to have him take the lead. It’s burning, hotter than the fires of hell they pledge to have when they leave this mortal plane. When it all burns down, it is always captivating and aposematic.

Through the back and forth of his hand Imperator can feel him lean forward, his mouth latching onto the soft molten skin of her neck. He lifts his other hand not busied with the soft skin below, grabbing the burning flesh of her breast. She has to stop this, take control. She isn’t a woman begging to be let backstage, flashing her tits at the bouncer and hoping that he’ll press his face between her legs. His mouth is an ember compared to the blaze in his eyes, lavascapes in the stark whiteness of blue and white. She could burn, she realized, but she leans into the hand pressing into her softest places. 

Papa’s mouth is soft against the dewy skin of Sister’s neck, the paint so delicately applied earlier is no doubt a parting gift against the paleness of her skin. His breath ghosts against her skin, pulling away. And she pouts at the loss, ichor rushing through her veins. She never quite understood the meaning of hunger until she met Nihil, a hunger for a man and not power. He rips open a vacuum inside of her, a festering hole that is utterly insatiable. A constant ache that drives her delirious with the urge to consume him with her gaping maw. Rapacious charm, never full. 

“How long have you wanted this? For me to take you like a slut?” The words drag over his tongue, and she’s alarmed by the moan pushing its way from her mouth. No, this has never happened. A step closer, her blood burns. The green feeling in her stomach has uprooted itself, destroyed in the endless warmth of his gaze. From where it had been clotted in her throat, for months upon months on tour, and it’s gone. 

He smiles, leaning down and finally taking her mouth in his. His lips are firm, pressing against hers with a deliberate force that she hasn’t experienced. Is this what these women have been packing at the door for? They had surely kissed, but it was her biting and forcing her way into the soft cavern of his mouth. But at this moment, his mouth doesn’t rest. She presses against him, her arms reaching around his neck and pulling him closer. Her hands shake around his neck, the pulsing of wetness and warmth between her legs dizzying. It jars her, head gummy and full of sin. These women wanted this. 

Their mouths press together, Nihil’s tongue pushing against hers in a sloppy push and pull of slickness. He tastes like sin, cigarettes and the heady tang of peppermint gum. He’s rough, a palpable hunger that pulls the last threads of jealousy from her mind. Papa pulls away, his eyes sharper than Sister had ever seen them. A yawning abyss of knowledge, and then she remembers. Women came to him for a reason, an unknown that would snap at the tips of their fingers if they got too close. And Nihil smiles, his hips pushing against hers and a sigh falling past his parted lips. It’s messy, adrenaline from onstage clearly pulsing through the fog of his mind. 

“Do I interest you? Is that why you haven’t set me aside?” His voice is harsh, his eyes lidded and heavy. 

“I could ask the same.” Her head is a slurry of pleasure, her clit throbbing where it meets the harsh bulge of his cock and the back and forth of silk against her body. It’s messy, less defined than anything she had ever allowed to happen. The backstage fumblings of curious women and- 

“Shush.” He makes a noise, condescending and somehow sweet like a cocktail at the dingy bars they had performed at. It punches into her, makes her gasp. Her hips stutter, she’s never seen a sight more damning. If she had been more stupid, she could imagine herself in a crowd. Peering up at him, a smile tugging at her lips and watching him thrust against the mic stand. And by Satan, she realizes it. The brutality of it makes her crush her lips against his, tongue sliding against the wetness of his own slippery muscle. There is embarrassment of course, and there is shame. But she wants it, the horrible emptiness inside of her that wants to let him treat her like a slut. A groupie begging on her knees, her back, for his tongue and cock to complete her. 

His hands return to her hips, lifting her onto the desk without breaking the kiss. The embers spar, blazing, when he deepens the kiss and presses the bulge of his cock into her pussy. She shivers, a whole body chill that has her breaking the kiss and moaning into the air. “Please.” It’s a plea, a whimper that she has never once spoken aloud to Nihil. And the way he chuckles, biting her lip with ravenous hunger that reminds her of the blood that courses through his veins, has her pushing back against him. She can’t resist, she wouldn’t even try. 

“Oh, please?” His voice sings, a derisive coo that makes her keen. He pulls back, his hands lifting her dress to reveal the pale pink briefs beneath. Nihil crouches, kneeling before her and running his hands over her soft thighs. A sigh, and a kiss pressed against the pliable porcelain before him. He had spent hours before, his head pressed between her thighs while she gripped his hair in a domineering grip as she took her pleasure from him. But now simply gripped the edges of the table, her wide eyes meeting his as he grazes his knuckles against the soft skin. Nihil sighs, shaking his head. 

“Have you thought about my head between their legs, tesoro?” The question is clipped, a grin on his face as he lets his palm glide up and down her legs. A hesitant nod, and her legs quake as Papa Nihil presses a kiss to her inner thigh. He lathes his tongue over the small scar at the influx of her thigh. Another whimper pours out as he peppers kisses against her, and she can’t tear her eyes away from his cocky grin. She should hate this, should be pulling him away and reprimanding him for taking control. But with the way he grips her thighs and the way she drips onto the table, she knows she loves this. Sister mewls as Nihil inches further, his eyes meeting her own. 

“I will take my pleasure from you the same as I do from them.” He murmurs, his mouth latching onto her skin. Her hands grip into the desk tightly, keening as he meets her gaze. “A powerful woman, la mia dea. But a slut all the same, begging for my cock.” He growls, and she moans as he presses the flat arch of his painted nose against her clit, his tongue tracing circles into the slickness of her pussy. 

Moans fill the silence of the room, muffled groaning and the slick movement of his mouth against her creating a back and forth cacophony of sin. Nihil’s hands against her thighs continue their back and forth as he takes his fill, his eyes closed in satisfaction. Sister whines as the sucking against her clit intensifies, his tongue swiping against her entrance. The hand against her leg moves, a finger dropping and dipping lightly at her dripping cunt, lightly swirling around the slickness collecting there. She bites her lip, catching the moan that bubbles out of her throat at the way he slurps at her cunt. 

His eyes shoot open, meeting her own with his mismatched gaze. He pulls back, his mouth unlatching from her pulsing clit while his fingers continue toying with her. “Don’t keep your noises from me, I want to hear.” Papa’s finger slides inside, and Sister chokes out a gasp. “Do you think these women hold back their pleasure? Have you not pulled similar noises from me while you choke down my cock, tesoro? ” She should be angry, she thinks to herself, but she can hardly think after he pushes two fingers into her utterly drenched entrance. He grazes a knuckle against a spot inside her, a high moan punching out of her throat as her walls flutter around him. 

“Nihil, I-” Sister Imperator gasps, her lips swollen and her lipstick rubbed off even earlier than now. He pulls his fingers away, and she moans in complaint. His eyes blaze with ire, his frown making her stomach clench in distraught anticipation. He rubs his fingers over her entrance, toying with the slick collected there. 

Nihil shakes his head, pressing a chaste kiss to her clit. “That is not my name. What am I called?” She whines, thinking back to the times they’ve fucked. It had been either Nihil, slut, or even my love. Never had it been- 

“Papa.” She whispers, his lips raising in appreciation. To everyone else, it’s Papa. His fingers slide back inside, the curls of his breath over her soaked pussy making her eyes roll back. Her hair knocking against the wall was probably a mess, her once perfect beehive now more of a honeycomb. While his tongue sucks against her raised clit, his fingers continue to coax burning pleasure that made her thighs shake. She can feel her lips are bitten raw, her knees pressed against her chest and exposing herself to him entirely. She should blush, she’s sure everyone else does, but his huffs and moans of pleasure persuade her to moan. 

She whimpers, and all thoughts are stuck in the burning mess in her head, rendered out into ashes and into cries for Papa, for more. It’s all a puddle of bliss, including her. His fingers brush against a spot inside that makes her cry out, a wail that she’s sure can be heard outside of the room. The thought is knocked out of her head as the pads of his fingers bump into it again, coupled with Papa’s tongue swiping against her bud. Oh, how she needed this, for him to just show that he knew how to please. 

She feels his lips curl against her clit and a muffled chuckle that makes her gasp, Coy, sweet, the type of mocking grin that he shot the crowd at the end of his show. He pulls back, fingers pistoning against her fluttering pussy, “Are you going to cum already, cara ? I thought you were a seasoned slut, opening your legs for any man with an ounce of talent?” He chuckles darkly, timbre drenched in sex and promise. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing in a defiant glare that dissolves as he begins to softly lap at her clit. Sister wants to scoff, to roll her eyes but the breadth of his shoulders spreading her legs wide and the ministrations on her cunt cut the words on her tongue short. 

He circles her clit with the tip of his tongue, lapping softly and moaning against it as he closes his eyes. The makeup around his mouth is smeared, his lips shining with her slick and his spit. His mouth is molten, and she can feel her weeping hole clench around his fingers. It’s hot, the high collar of her dress collecting sweat. It’s messy, the opposite of the nakedness she was used to with him. Debauched, wanton, desperate for him. The desperation is tangible.

“Show me how much you want my cock.” He growls into her cunt, nuzzling his cheek into her thigh as his fingers increase their speed. Imperator moans, her thighs shaking as she feels her climax approach much more quickly than usual. At the speed of his fingers, she can feel the delicious burn of pleasure that nears so deliciously into pain, a wire pulled taut and begging to be released. She arches, canting her hips greedily into his mouth. If he weren't so intent on making her cum, she’s sure he would be grinning like the damn dirty tease he is. 

A particular curl of his fingers sends her over the edge, his tongue laving over her clit and his fingers fucking dangerously harshly against the sweet spot inside of her that has her choking out a moan. She can feel the rings of cum wetting her thighs, the spit that coats her lower half. She can’t help but whimper when she crests the wave, an embarrassing litany of pleads for her Papa, a melted husk of a woman drunk on the high of her orgasm. 

Sister can feel the way he presses kisses into her thighs, the way his fingers have been pulled out of her and she cries at the need for him inside of her. Nothing where she rides him for control, where he begs and whimpers for her to let him cum. She lets her eyes fall open, a quavering moan from her mouth whenever she witnesses him suck her cum from his fingers. His eyes blaze as he stands above her, his mouth stretched wide into a grin that makes her heart swell.

Sister’s eyes flick down, where his bulge pushes against the black leather of his bellbottoms. Her hands shoot forward and reach for the laces, if not a bit clumsily trying to pick apart the laces. She knows he aches for it, and can feel him twitching against the confines of his trousers. His hand drops down, and Papa smiles down at her with a fond, if not condescending, smirk. 

Her hands pull the laces apart, a joined moan between the two of them as his swollen cock pops out. The head of his cock is red, smeared with sticky spend at the tip that aids her as she begins to pump him leisurely. He sighs, a hand gathering in her hair as she looks up at him. “You do such a good job pleasing Papa, you know?” She nods quickly, her hand not slowing. Just as she finds a rhythm, his hands have shot out to stop her. The hardness of his cock in her hand makes the emptiness inside her known, aching even. He steps between her legs, craning her head upward towards him. 

“Will you let Papa fuck you?” He whispers, stepping forward to rub his cock against her soaked folds. A whine forces its way from her throat. God, she just wants him, any way at any time. To say she’s been denying it would be an understatement. She needed him, wanted him near her always. It’s easy to worship him, she thinks to herself through the delirious haze of his weight against her cunt. Easy to kiss offerings into his skin, sing a hymn of praise into the dips of his neck.

“Yes, Papa.” A whisper, heavy and breathless. The way she addresses him makes him moan helplessly, and there’s nowhere else to burn eternally than with one another. Leaning closer, the head of his cock nudges inside her, popping in with such ease that it makes the both of them pause in the sheer buzz of skin on skin. Sister leans back, allowing herself to moan as she feels the heavy weight of him inside her. Nihil chokes on his gasp, pushing slowly inside of her. The head of his dick pushing against something soft in her cunt that makes her clench around him with a whimper. 

The cloying feeling of him on top of her, inside her, makes her keen. Why had she fought this for so long, for the treatment he gave other women? The very feeling of him inside her is dizzying, the way he hovers above her with a self satisfied smile makes her match it. The fuzzy feeling in her stomach returns, her heart lifting from the well it had drifted to earlier. Control was something she had vied for, and couldn't let go. The ebb and sway of how he would let her control him, and this is where he got his kicks. Maybe now he could find his respite within her as well. 

Nihil moans, rolling his hips into hers in a way that makes her eyes roll back. The thrusts are slow, a back and forth that knocks the air from her lungs in the most delicious way. Each time he retreats he comes back home, the tip of his cock kissing the place inside of her that makes her legs lock around his waist tightly. Strings of pleasure lick up her spine, her nipples hard underneath the fabric of her dress. She can smell the heady smell of sex in the air, the wetness between the two of them slick in the cool air of the dressing room. Maybe everyone would hear, hear how he fucked her like a woman, like any woman out there in the crowd. 

His hair is soft beneath her hands, moussed from the sweat of the stage and his lingering adrenaline and the many times she had already gripped it in the space between the two of them. 

“So good for me, you take me so well Sister,” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against her lips in a salacious lick against bitten lips. He tips his head forward as Sister clenches around him, his thrusts grinding his cock into her pussy in a way that makes white hot pleasure tickle her spine. She combs over his face, his perfectly debauched makeup sliding down the smoothness of his skin. A thought passes about what he may look like when he’s older, how the makeup will pool in a similar way perhaps. 

As she clenches around him his dick twitches in agreement, his eyes lidded in pleasure as he continues to fuck her. A hazardous grin spreads across his smeared lips when he catches her gaze, his eyes sweeping over her bent form as he continues to fuck her, spread out and stretched over his thick cock. Anyone can hear her, she realizes, can hear how badly she wants her Papa to fill her cunt, to make her cum, how good he is at making women achieve hedonistic pleasure. A star frontman, an experienced lover. 

He grins, and she can feel his cock brush against a soft spot inside of her that makes her positively wail. His hand drops from where it’s clenched around her thigh, thumb swiping over her clit and she groans, needy and breathless. Sister’s hips work with his own, Nihil’s hips knocking against the silky walls of her cunt. His head brushes deep, her back arching in pleasure that makes her quiver in a profoundly intense ache. As his hand works over her throbbing clit and his hips batter against the meat of her ass, Nihil leans over. A kiss pressed to her neck, a stream of moans into her ear dredged up from a place of love and desperation. 

“Will you cum for me?” A whisper into her ear, a fervent nod answered back. Her heart flutters, a taut softness as she feels her toes curl. It pinches taut as he angles his hips, tendrils of pleasure as he pushes his cock further in. In a moment like this, she couldn’t give a damn about a groupie, some faithless devotee. The devotion is right here and right now, between the one at the altar and the abnormality present. 

“Please. I want to be your whore,” Sister whispers, haze filling the curtain of her gaze as she feels the pleasure ratcheting higher and higher. Papa Nihil feels similarly, she knows this, the desperate high moans against her neck as he visibly fights the urge to call out for her like normal. 

A vicious swipe against her clit sends her over, liquid bliss spuming deep within her and setting her off. The rhythmic clenching of her softness around his cock makes him gasp, his breath choked in her throat as he cums deep inside her. She sighs, eyes slipping closed as he sighed against her neck. Her hands rose to his back, slow careful swipes of her hands on his shirt as he heaved for air. 

The air was warm, and she could feel their shared spend dripping down from her hole onto the floor. The sickly green feeling in her stomach was gone, filled with the deliciously delightful feeling of Nihil in her arms, his hands warm against her waist. When he quiets by the end of her gentle petting, the mushy misty eyed look in her eyes won’t leave. An odd juxtaposition for a woman who could bring Nihil down to size in a matter of moments. 

“You don’t suppose I could have a cigarette after this?” She mumbled, smiling softly as she heard a muffled laugh against her neck. Pulling back, they looked at one another. His makeup was ruined, as was hers most likely. Though they still had the drive back to the hotel to fare with, nothing delighted her more than knowing she could curl up in bed delightfully moisturized and nestled against Nihil. And looking into his eyes, she knew he was just as enchanted at the ending of their night together. His hand drifted to her cheek, his eyes soft in a way that made her stomach flip. 

“Never again, Genevieve. I promise.” And she knew he wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He whispered, a delicate kiss pressed against the tip of her nose. His hand was warm, and she leaned into the soft embrace of it against her dreadfully sweaty cheek. Although her heart jumped at her given name, the irony of it in her current religion a mockery to her sensibilities, Sister sighed.

The sickly feeling of envy an ever looming fear now, she knew she could push through. Though he had two children now, the fear of a third, even a fourth was gone. He was hers, and she was his, even through the possibility of another Prime Mover. Satan forbid a groupie try to coax their way into his pants in the future. 

The thought passed with a drop of disdain in her eyes, and a smile making its way onto her kiss swollen lips. All these months of sweat soaked nights on a bumpy bus, a hand held out in a busy afterparty, the soft breath against her neck as she held him close. A hand held in another hand with care, with no fear to be found. 

“Of course. Never again.” 

[f1-05-writer]

Blurb: Redbull racing welcomes a new doctor to the medical team but she the boss daughter and has caught the eye of max verstappen…

So this is the first part of my story hopefully you like it! It will be a bit of a slow burn!

Part 2 posted!

Length: 1145 words

I brace my knee braced on top of the hard plastic and give an almighty pull of the zipper and yet it still doesn’t budge. The sheer amount of clothes I’ve crammed in are refusing to be contained. “Come on you can do this!” I mutter, trying desperately to psych myself up. With a final burst of brute strength, the zipper eeks closed. “Fuck yes!!” I shout triumphantly settling down on top of the conquered suitcase. I survey my surrounding and settle further into my new position, realising that this is the last thing I have to do. My apartment is now fully packed up. However, the tranquillity of this moment is quickly interrupted by the sweat on my forehead making it's presence known, I grimace as the hem of my shirt comes up wet after swiping it across - Brisbane humidity is not something I will miss. After being here for five years for my medical degree, I'm ready to leave. To do something new. The first stop of that is heading to Bahrain –for the first Grand Prix of the year. Just as I'm about to stand and start wrangling this stupid suitcase out the door of my flat I hear the ear-piercing ring of my phone. Muttering out a curse at the stupid tone and swipe to answer not bothering to look at the name – I already know who it is based on the fucking ringtone.

“Hi Dad, what are you calling for” I query

“Y/N/N,” he starts with, using the shortened version of my name, “I can’t wait to see you again only a few more hours till you are in Bahrain with me! The start of many races together. I was just calling to check that you’re all sorted for the plane – it will be on the tarmac waiting for y-”

I do a double take at that comment and “Wait what! I've already booked my flight you didn’t need to send the plane down – I’ve told you it will make people look at me differently if they see me coming in on the company plane – they will think I only got the position because of you!” I screech, running my hand through my hair, this however, does nothing to sooth my frustration as my fingers get tangles in my mess of curls. Whilst my battle rages with my curls dad continues unperturbed, “Darling, you know that’s not true I had nothing to do with the selection process for Dr Trome.” I finally freed I continue exasperated “I know that dad, but other people don’t! it already hard enough people think I get handouts for being a girl and now people will say I only got it cause I'm RedBull’s Team principles daughter”

My father, Christian Horner sighs “I'm sorry darling, I just wanted to make your day easier – will you at least take the car from Bahrain airport to the track?”

I mull my options over – an Uber on Grand Prix week will cost me and arm and a leg, I know shit about Bahrain public transport and nor do I particularly want to wrangle my luggage around on it. Knowing my options are slim to none I agree to the car picking me up. Pleased with my answer my father finishes the call with a rushed I love you. `

 

I look down at my phone and my heart drops “FUCK” I scream. Frantically I grab everything do a curtesy sweep of my flat – it was really nothing to write home about – despite my very wealthy parents I am determined to make my own way – I want my successes to be mine, that everything I have earned in life is due to my own hard work not my last name, not my parents’ money but my skill. Jumping into a Taxi without a second to spare if I want to make my flight on time, I tell the driver to head to the terminal. An excruciating  25-minute drive later I arrive. With barely enough time to breath, I make it in time to check in. Finally, I have a chance to breath once seated on the plane – I'm always on edge in airports, the sheer mass if people, the lack of control it all sets me on edge. Checking my emails for the details of my position with Dr Trome.

 

Dear Y/N,

 

I hope you are traveling safe and once again congratulations on securing the position

Now that you are on your way, I just want to reaffirm what the expectation and the duties that this position involves –  you are my one of back up team doctors you will be mainly responsible for the wellbeing of your assigned driver – this has yet to be determined but you will be informed once you have arrived in Bahrain.

This includes a whole multitude of aspects but as this is merely an internship with RedBull Racing’s Medical team you will NOT be responsible for making decision merely informing me of your proposed medical plan and talk through the rational with me, we will then decide the course of treatment – this experience is meant to challenge you showing you what life as a team doctor is like – the taxing pace of travel, athletes in their peak physical health and give your hands on training.

When you land at 4pm please come straight to conference room 140E for the run-down of operations.

Once again Congratulations and welcome to RedBull Racing

 

Kind Regards,

Dr Trome

MD, BSc

 

Unable to contain my excitement a wide, slow smile spreads across my face. This is it. The start of a dream. Heading into medical school I was unsure of where I wanted to end up hospital rotations left me feeling drained and unfulfilled – I yearned for travel and excitement. My view of hospitals was probably warped due to the pandemic, but I was desperate not to suffer through that now. When the medical faculty at university had posted about an internship at RedBull racing I just couldn’t pass up, I dared not speak a word to my family about this – I knew my father would inject himself into the situation despite my protests and the obvious ethical violations. So, I quietly applied, not telling anyone and then 3 months ago after the whole interview process was complete, I got the internship. And that’s why I now find myself seated on a plane headed for Bahrain. I look out the window imagine the exciting possibilities that await me when this plane lands

 

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, the current time in Brisbane is 6pm the flight time to Bahrain is approximately 18hours and 45 minutes so settle back, get comfortable and enjoy your flight. We thank you for flying with us.

 

I settle into my seat and get ready for the start of my new life.

[arborix]

my legs and hips hurt from apparently six hours of walking funny with that doomguy armor on but Rose City Comic Con was super fun and good LORD there were so many people there??? the line to get in seemed to be a quarter mile long... plus it just so happened to be a super hot and humid day 🙃

spent six hours there with my group of friends (two from Utah who I met through Lethal Company) and all we did was meander around the art booths because there seemed to be literal hundreds of them, but it was too packed to politely take pictures

Honorable mentions I didn't get pictures of:

Laura Croft with low poly chest DUNE sandworm Splinter and all four TMNTs Several full-body Bowsers Spiderman carrying a skeleton wearing Gwen's clothes Jack Skellington on stilts Life-sized remote controlled WALL-E RED Scout with a BLU Soldier and Spy Abraham Lincoln with Wolverine claws At least two Guy Fieries

[bomberqueen17]

holding it down

currently am being held down in the chair by Chita, who was waiting patiently next to my recliner while i was in the other room packing up my clean laundry. I'm going back to the farm today, and need to leave sometime before noon to arrive in time for dinner. The only productive thing I really did this week is that last night I made a Vat of Borscht that i'm going to bring to serve for dinner tonight so my sister doesn't have to cook. anyway. Oop Chita just had enough of absorbing my body heat / qi (we joke that's what she's after, absorbing qi by sitting on people) and has transferred herself to the other chair, where she will sleep for six to ten hours without moving much. Her life is hard.

anyway wittering on behind cut

my dreamwidth crossposter broke so i should figure out how to set up an RSS thingy there, idk how to do that though. i think tumblr did something that broke how they do RSS and that's why the crossposter went down.

I'm trying Vyvanse again, a slightly higher dose. One pill a day, I can do. Yesterday I just felt scattered and ran around not getting things done. I did go double grocery shopping with Dude, and there was a Pokemon Go thing going on so I was catching cyndaquils while wandering through the grocery aisles, and i just-- sometimes I can feel that what I am doing is really bad for my attention span, and I could super feel that this was not helping me at all.

"I need to meditate," I said, sweating, on the ride home in the car. (It has been so hot. It was so hot yesterday. It was 87 and so humid and even with the ac in the car I was just sweating. ugh.)

"So meditate," Dude said, but I don't know how.

I probably should start writing in my journal again. I had been using a like day planner thing, and I was doing pretty poorly at it-- i'd write goals but they were never concretely connected to anything, and mostly I was writing down what I did after I did it, but at least that tied me to reality somewhat. So I should at least go back to that, I stopped the last week at the farm when things were so fucking hectic I didn't do anything but work, eat, and sleep.

I don't know if it helps but doing nothing doesn't help either.

And it's a lie to say I did nothing this past week. I was very off my game, but I did consult two different medical professionals for whatever that's worth, and I did manage to get past a huge writing block that's been deviling me for over a year really.

The horrible heat is supposed to break, which is good timing, because there is no climate control at the farm, and the only air-conditioned room is insufficiently conditioned and so is usually warmer than the surrounding spaces. I would have had a miserable week if I'd been there this past week, when it was over 90F most days and wasn't getting below 75F at night. (It was 81F here this morning at 6am, but it is supposed to rain and the day's high will only be 82. So.)

I did get some sewing done this week, though not as much as I wanted. I did a bunch of laundry. I did not clean the house or make any progress organizing any spaces, which were things I had wanted to do. But the writing, I can't describe how important getting that writing done was for me.

I'm having trouble being confident in my writing currently, a couple of scenes I feel are not emotionally true to what I was trying to say. I did rediscover some old notes though, and I think I've figured out what was bugging me in the Geralt/Emhyr scenes, and what I should work on with them. (I think the background information that Pavetta was an unhinged little gremlin monsterfucker and that was what formed Emhyr's id is really important and I have to work out how to incorporate that into everything going forward.)

I also keep finding myself yearning to write some original stuff. So we'll have to see, if I can get through the backlog of ideas in the Witcher stuff and start winding some of that up (??!!?!?!) then maybe there'd be some time to poke those ideas.

Anyway. Cat tax, here is what Chita looked like as I began this post, being a feline seat belt holding me into this chair:

[image description: small gray cat, head turned and eyes closed, is lying on my green-clad lap and has one paw outstretched toward the camera, touching the gray arm of the chair we're sitting in, holding me in position.]

[yeehaw-the-vampire]

This Burning Feeling

this is my first fic in a while, so forgive me for the absolute pile of shit i'm about to put in front of you

Natasha x Wanda

wanda is a very cuddly and warm sleeper, so much so it can overheat whoever she is sleeping beside. in this case, it's Natasha, who prefers ice cold to anything else.

1k words, you think it's fluff but you're wrong

It was a warm morning, the first summer had to offer. Natasha’s face screwed up as she slept, mumbling and groaning from the heat building beneath her skin. She had never been a fan of the heat, grateful that the burning waves had rarely reached her during her young years spent in Ohio.

And yet, her tolerance built in those few days spread out on the living room floor, ice packs on her own head and her little sister’s, had long vanished. She felt sticky in the lightest humidity, but the hold of sleep made it far more intense. Natasha tried to kick off the blankets weighing her down, but they were already long gone.

And yet, something else was weighing her down. Natasha pried her eyes open to try and find the source of her discomfort, when she recalled the witch who’d fallen asleep beside her the night before.

Wanda’s arm had slipped over Natasha’s waist as they slept, hand splayed across the soft skin of her stomach, face buried between Nat’s shoulder blades. Natasha took a sharp breath, not wanting to move and disturb Wanda despite her own discomfort.

The witch’s breath was warmer than the air drowning them, but it sent shivers down Nat’s spine nonetheless. Natasha could feel herself starting to sweat, forcing her eyes open to try and figure out if it was possible to slip out of Wanda’s grip without waking her.

She went to reach for Wanda’s hand, but her eyes began to adjust to the harsh light peeking in through her apartment windows, and she saw the little red sparks firing from the tips of Wanda’s fingers.

That explained the heat of the room, which had bypassed Natasha’s AC that she kept at a crisp 50°F at all times. The cold was often the only thing that allowed her the slightest amount of sleep, but clearly Wanda had other plans.

Natasha was unsure if she could even touch Wanda’s hand, if she could pry it off herself without scaring Wanda and causing something more than a heatwave confined to Nat’s bedroom.

‘Wanda,’ Natasha said softly, her voice heavy in the warmth, easing its way into the subconscious of the witch. ‘Too hot, Wanda, wake up.’

The little red sparks were spread all around the room, drifting over the edge of the bed and the mattress onto the floor, creeping higher up the walls the longer Wanda slept. Nat winced as she tried to move, the sweat cascading down her forehead and back making her incredibly uncomfortable.

Hardly able to bear another second, Natasha’s hand slipped over Wanda’s, intertwining their fingers and bringing them both up to her mouth. Natasha pressed her lips softly to the back of Wanda’s hand, and without the weight holding her hostage in her own bed, she rolled over and dragged Wanda into her arms.

As much as she wished she wasn’t so overheated, she could feel Wanda’s discomfort and had to put the other’s needs before her own. Natasha pressed her lips to Wanda’s forehead, jolting back with surprised at the cold skin she met there.

No longer concerned with waking Wanda, Natasha moved to lean up on her elbow, placing her warm hands on Wanda’s freezing cheeks and running her thumbs over those perfect cheekbones. ‘Wanda, love? I’m right here, can you wake up for me?’ Natasha said a little louder than she’d spoken before. ‘God, you’re freezing, sweetheart-’

There was only a soft grumble in response, Wanda’s forehead creasing as she tried to regain control, but couldn’t even open her eyes. Natasha sat up properly, legs folded beneath herself as she ran her hands over Wanda’s shoulders, the sudden urgency of getting her to wake up reaching its peak.

Natasha could see the red glow start to ebb behind Wanda’s eyelids, waning with each word spoken to her in that kind, sultry tone. Tense and worried for Wanda’s safety, Nat finally began to break through. Wanda hummed in weak response, a rush of sparks flying out from her fingertips.

It was Natasha’s reaction to this that finally woke Wanda, the outcry in response to the shocks delivered by those little red sparks. Wanda bolted upright, her long hair a mess across her face, eyes a dark amber ringed by red electricity, embedded in her body. It dulled the moment Wanda’s eyes set on Natasha.

Wearing little more than a grey tank-top and shorts she’d stolen from Clint, Natasha stood by the wall, shaking and staring in disbelief at Wanda. There was smoke coming from the handprints burned into her skin from where Wanda had grabbed her upon waking.

Wanda’s chest heaved in tandem with Natasha’s, deep breaths that sunk all the way to the bottom of their lungs. The longer Natasha stared at Wanda, the heat inside her dissipated, and the fear grew in place of it.

The shine of Wanda’s eyes had become something different, something far unlike the soft green Natasha had become used to. Something else, someone else, had taken Wanda over for a few seconds as a way to protect her. It was protecting her, yes, but it showed the terrified Natasha just a flash of something else.

It gave her a glimpse into the powers Wanda had, something she’d seemed to forget about upon her waking. It started to slip from Natasha’s mind again, but she clung to it, trying to recall just what had transpired the night before.

The longer the seconds dragged on, the less she remembered about how she ended up in bed with Wanda. It wasn’t like they hadn’t slept together before, but never had Natasha forgotten what happened on those nights.

It was then Natasha saw the facade fall, the walls of her apartment melt away, and show where she really was. A cabin, hidden away in a dead forest, falling to pieces around them as they slept. The sight of Natasha scared brought back Wanda, her Wanda, if only for a second.

But Natasha recalled it, the room, the first time she saw it, and the person who’d brought her there. Her Wanda had been gone for so long, she’d seen the corruption building since the unearthing of that godforsaken tome, but it was her Wanda, still buried beneath it all.

She let herself be held there, to bring out the Wanda she’d long been in love with. Even if it was just for those fleeting moments, she clung to her dear Wanda, but it always came back to the Scarlet Witch.

[obetrolncocktails]

Deception | Josh Kiszka X Reader | Part 5

Warnings: Minors DNI (Heavy content): lying, gaslighting, sexual assault, crying, anger/angst, mention of blood, physical assault, miscommunication, violence, manipulation.

Word Count: 3,862

Summary: Nothing is exactly as it seems. Snakes roam in the prettiest of gardens. Be careful or you'll be bitten.

Buying cardboard boxes shouldn’t have been a tearful experience. For many, moving has a negative connotation, but for you, moving was a saving grace. Moving out of college, out of your parents’ house, into your first apartment, and into Josh’s house, they’d all been moments of transition– of growth. And now, moving your knick knacks out of Josh’s house just broke your heart even further. All morning, you attempted to erase any memory of your existence while working with Hailey, Jita and Danny to clear the entire house of your presence, even down to the utensils you’d bought for you and Josh, surprising him with a “y/n warming” present as you moved in. 

Making jokes in your head was one of the few coping mechanisms that made the process the least bit manageable. You thought about functional alcoholism, sardonically asking yourself, I don’t know how people live like that…is it possible to be a functional wreck? Where is the relief?

“There’s about four more boxes of clothes in Josh’s room,” Danny mentioned, taping up one of the dangerously-full boxes in the kitchen. You nodded, setting the last of the supplies in a new box. “Can you help move these to the truck first?” Danny watched your expression, his lips pulling into a taut line. You thought he felt bad for you, but he didn’t say anything else, only nodded and bent to pick up the heavy box he had just taped. It was strange to see how bare the house had become in just mere hours. Seeing the empty shelves reminded you of the conversation that Jake regretted so much, having to tell you that Josh wanted you gone without a word. 

Jake had been especially supportive while Josh was gone, though you didn’t expect it, or even really welcome it at first. Knowing that your entire life with Josh and his family had been destroyed filled you with a dread that was only magnified when you spoke to anyone he was close with. Being outed like you were at the party left you alert with any new interaction or slightly off-color remark. You’d told Jake that as soon as you were packed, you’d store your belongings and drive the five hours to Cincinnati to live with your parents until you could get back on your feet. You’d made the decision after resisting your mother’s invitation over the phone several times, until, late at night when you were in bed alone, the sense of helplessness creeped in and urged you to relent and finally take her offer. 

 Jita stepped into the kitchen, placing her hand on your back as you stood, frozen in your own thoughts.  “Hey,” she said softly. “Do you need to take a break for a second?” Her voice was like warm honey. She was nurturing and kind, her touch pulling you back into the room. You cleared your throat as you stood up straight. 

“I think I just need a minute,” You said, feeling your nose burning from an excess of emotion as your thoughts became too much once again. 

“Okay,” she nodded, pulling her hands to the box that you’d been filling. “Let me help.” You let her continue to fill the box, stepping away and heading outside. 

***

It was blazing hot as Josh landed on the tarmac, the humidity pasting his curls to his head as he plodded through the parking lot to find his jeep. Despite a long, unavoidable layover, he’d had time to think about his time back home in Michigan, and his conversation with Ronnie. He’d decided that his relationship with you was no one’s business, and that he’d work through the issues with you personally. He never wanted to be the one who played games or listened to those outside of the relationship until it was thrown into his face. He’d regretted spinning out of control like he had, and he knew that he’d hurt you just as much as you had hurt him. He loved you, and he knew that you loved him too, and that was enough for him. 

The drive home for Josh was a blur. He felt like he had to race in order to catch you in time. He hadn’t spoken to you, and he knew that his orders to Jake were extremely rigid and angry. He spent the entire drive practicing and altering the same script over and over for what seemed like hours. He knew that he’d forget it all as soon as he saw you, but it made him feel better to do it anyway. As soon as he saw the Penske truck parked, Josh’s gut flipped. Not even bothering to park in the driveway, he pulled to the edge of the sidewalk and stepped out of his car, forgetting to turn off the ignition. Seconds later, he stumbled back out of his jeep, jogging toward the house. 

“Josh! You’re home, I missed you!” Hailey said, her tone especially enthusiastic as she stepped toward him with a full box of your belongings.

***

Covered in sweat from countless trips back and forth from the truck, you hiked the latest cardboard box on your hip as you wiped your brow with the back of your hand, preparing to make another trip outside. Stepping out of the door, you immediately felt the sweltering heat blanket over your body with yet another bothersome layer of sticky sweat. 

Squinting your eyes from the sun, you pulled your gaze upward and froze in your tracks. 

“What the–” Josh exclaimed, turning quickly to you, breaking aggressively from a kiss with Hailey. His eyes were wide with shock, probably from the guilt of being caught. 

“Josh, what the fuck is wrong with you?!” Hailey said incredulously, jumping back from him. her fingertips lifted to her lips where Josh had kissed her. “I’m with Sam, how could you do that to him?” She continued, looking between you and Josh. “And to Y/n!” Hailey moved away from Josh and toward you, pulling you in tightly to her. It made you extremely uncomfortable in the moment. 

“Hailey, what the fuck are you talking about?” Josh attempted. “Y/n, it’s not–”

“Josh, you’ve got problems you need to fix,” Hailey continued. “I understand you might have feelings for me, but to do that right here? Right after you forced Y/n out of the house, and couldn’t even make it in person to break up with her the right way?” She shook her head in disgust. “How low could you get?” She finished. 

“Y/n, she’s fucking lying!” Josh practically shouted, pointing his finger scornfully at her. “I’d never kiss Hailey, what the fuck is wrong with you?” He spat, turning to her, who’s expression remained calm and neutral. 

“I’m not the one who just cheated in front of their girlfriend,” She responded. 

“You literally just assaulted me, and trapped me against the fucking truck. You’re literally psychotic–”

“Both of you shut the fuck up,” you spoke, your voice as cold as ice. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall in front of them as they watched you. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, and I’m going to walk away before I say or do something I regret,” you continued. Turning on your heel, you stepped back toward the house, feeling your heart race, and the tears began to roll down your cheeks. 

Josh held out his hand to catch you by the elbow. “Y/n, please–” 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth, wrenching your arm from his grasp. “Don’t ever talk to me again.” You said finally before trudging into the house, searching for your car keys. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” Jita asked from inside yours and Josh’s bedroom. She paused from laying your clothes on the bed once she saw you crying. 

“Josh–he–he,” You attempted, finding it incredibly difficult to put what you saw in words. 

Jita walked over to the door and closed it, turning the knob to lock it as well. “Come sit,” she said gently, coming to sit at the end of the bed. By now, your tears had moved to choked sobs, and you attempted to keep them as quiet as possible, feeling embarrassed by the vulnerable, and involuntary show of emotion. 

“He kissed Hailey. They were kissing,” You said, your eyebrows knitted together with confusion as the image proliferated in your mind over and over, making you feel worse and worse by the minute. 

“Hailey? Josh and Hailey?” She asked, her tone filled with disbelief, which made you want to dissolve even quicker. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, correcting herself. “I just can’t imagine them–She’s with Sam, though–”

“Josh kissed her,” you explained, wiping at your nose as you sniffled. “He kissed her knowing damn well I was inside, just to get back at me. He wanted to hurt me.”

“Something doesn’t seem right,” Jita blurted. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but Josh wouldn’t do that.”

“You’re wrong,” you argued angrily. “I watched him kiss her.” You bunched your hands in fists, feeling your nails uncomfortably dig into the flesh of your palms.

Jita sat there for a moment, biting at the corner of her mouth, running her fingers through her dark hair. “I don’t know what to say, Y/n. I’m so sorry. This is awful.”

“There’s nothing to say,” you shrugged, swiping away the tears that were beginning to dry on your cheeks. You reached for a nearby pillow and wrapped your arms around it, plopping it into your lap. As you did, you felt something cold and metallic slip onto the bed, and before you could reach it, it slid over the edge, grazing along your bare leg until it landed on the floor with a tinny clatter.

Reaching down, you looped the small chain around your fingers, lifting it up to see. As soon as you saw the small, golden ‘H,’ that hung from the bracelet, you knew it was over. 

“What?” Jita asked, her eyes darting between you and the piece of jewelry. “What is it?”

You shook your head, smiling pitifully through a torrent of silent tears. Your mouth felt dry and hot, and your head pulsed painfully. “He cheated on me,” you could barely pinch out. You sniffled loudly, closing your hand around the gold. “He betrayed me.” Everything you had known over the last eight months had suddenly vaporized in front of you. “He betrayed me,” you repeated, rolling over into Jita’s lap. She caressed your body in an almost-motherly way, her fingers dappling over the bare skin of your arms and shoulders before moving to stroke the softness of your hair while you wept. “I’m sorry,” she had said several times before re-adjusting in her spot, letting you cry while she held you. 

You didn’t have a plan. Hell, over the last two weeks, you’d flown by the seat of your pants, letting your misery float you from friend to friend and house to house; but now, you quite literally had nowhere to go. Over the last eight months, you had isolated yourself into Josh’s circle, and while you welcomed it at the time, now you felt completely alone. The only privacy you knew you’d have was in the safety of your car. 

Stepping out of the bedroom with Jita at your side, you were determined to wear a hardened exterior. You were too exhausted to hide, so instead, you moved forward and kept your head held high. Josh sat on the couch speaking to Jake, who had recently arrived back at the house to finish packing. They both sat with stern expressions, though Josh looked miserable, his fingertips having teased out his usually-neat curls into a puff on the top of his head. “I didn’t do–” he said, before Jake lifted his head toward you, swallowed, and looked back down. Josh pushed himself off of the couch and attempted to step forward before you put up a hand to stop him. 

“I know what it looks like, it’s terrible. But I fucking swear to you, Y/n, I would never–”

You shook your head in response. “Your promises and swears mean absolutely nothing to me, Josh. I’m done.” You crossed your arms across your chest, still gripping the bracelet in your hand. 

“She kissed me, Y/n! She literally jumped on me and kissed me out of nowhere!” He tried, swinging his hands around his body as he spoke. Jake and Jita remained silent, but moved closer to each other as they watched, unsure of what to do. 

“Open your hand,” You ordered Josh.

“What?” He said, narrowing his eyes with confusion. 

“Open your hand,” you repeated, the words coming out monotonous and emotionless. You gripped the metal in between your fingers like a sword with enemy blood dripping from it, yet you felt no power in the discovery of the item. Every second you held it made your anger boil hotter and hotter. Slowly, you stepped forward to Josh, lifting your hand, and dropping the bracelet into his palm. 

“Take this as a learning opportunity from someone who loved you unconditionally. I really hope you find true happiness Josh, but it won’t be with me,” you told him before turning to Jake and Jita. “Send the truck to Cincinnati,” you told them nonchalantly. “If most of it gets there, I’ll be okay with that.”

You walked out of the house quickly, stopping to grab your keys from the kitchen island on the way.

“Y/n, please don’t leave. Not like this,” Josh begged.

You continued walking despite his pleading, clicking the unlock button on your key fob. “Josh, stop.” You told him. “It’s okay. I get it. You made mistakes, I made a mistake too, and I’m sorry, but I can’t continue to be miserable under your influence. I have to be done. I have to walk away.”

“You don’t understand,” he shook his head tearfully. “I was never unfaithful to you and I will prove it. I was coming back to Nashville to tell you I love you and that I was sorry.”

“It’s too late for all of that, now,” you told him, turning in place and stepping forward toward Josh. Taking his hands in yours, you squeezed them tightly, leaned forward and kissed him one last time. You felt the wetness of his tears as they slid down his face and into the kiss.“I’ll miss you, Josh. You were the best eight months of my life,” you admitted. “Just be good to her,” you finished, squeezing his hands one last time before stepping away and getting into your car and backing out of the driveway. He stood there frozen, staring at your car as you disappeared out of the neighborhood. Inside, you let the tears fall, and you sarcastically wondered if and when they’d ever stop flowing. 

***

An hour down the road, you’d decided that you were calm enough to make a call. If Hailey and Josh were going to do something so hurtful together, you’d make sure they did it out in the open. You reached and pressed the contact button on your dash, searching for Sam’s name. Once you found it, you called him. 

The dial tone rang and rang, then went to voicemail. You heard his voice prompt you to leave a message, but you hung up, knowing it wouldn’t be the least bit respectful to tell him about Hailey that way. Knowing that there was a long drive ahead of you, you opened one of your favorite spotify playlists and shuffled the songs, tapping along to the beat as you drove down the hypnotizing interstate. 

Sam’s ringtone blared through the car a while later, forcing you to be more alert. Looking down at the dash, you pressed the green ‘answer’ button. 

“Hello?” You asked in as neutral of a tone as you could muster. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked. “Sorry, Hailey came home crying,” he began, his voice laced with awkward tension, like there was more that he knew. Of course there was. “I’m driving to Josh’s.”

“Not really,” you admitted. “I’m on the way to my parents’ house.” You didn’t want to ask what his intentions were with that, but you could assume. 

“Tell me what you saw with Hailey and Josh. Hailey said that he kissed her?” He asked, more confused than angry. 

“Yes. I saw them kissing. I don’t trust either of them,” You admitted. “Don’t trust Hailey, Sam. She and Josh are cheating on both of us with each other.”

“Hailey wouldn’t do that,” he argued. “She loves me. We’re super happy,” he said. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with Josh, though. I’ll deal with him later.” 

“Listen, I know you don’t like talking about these things,” you continued. “But I just need to separate myself from everything. I just wanted to let you know that neither of them are innocent. I’m tired of the bullshit, so I’m just done.” 

“I’ll update you when I can,” Sam mentioned hurriedly, his tone rising with frustration. 

You hung up with him, sighing as you drove, knowing that you’d have plenty of material to think about on the way to your parents’ house. 

***

Sam had left Hailey at home, not sure how to handle what he had been told. Hailey had explained that Josh had kissed her, and that she had nothing to do with it. What you’d seen played over and over in your head, and as much as you wanted to hate Josh, something deep inside still nipped at your judgment, urging you to think again. Hailey had been a fairweather friend, taking you under her wing when things had fallen apart with Josh. As soon as he arrived again, she appeared again. You’d have three more hours to decide if it was worth it to drag yourself back into the drama. 

***

Sam pulled up to Josh’s house in a flurry, slamming the door to his Tesla carelessly. He furiously stomped up the driveway and blew open the front door, finding Josh standing in the kitchen. 

“You motherfucker,” Sam seethed, yanking his brother up by the collar of his sweatshirt, cocking his hand back and decking Josh clear across the face. Sam’s knuckles blasted with pain as his hand made contact with Josh’s jaw, the anger moving into outright belligerence as he laid eyes on him.

“Sam–” Josh attempted, his hands flying up to defend himself, but Sam did not relent. His hand cracked again into Josh’s nose, then his eye, and his cheek again. He slumped to the floor, stunned and frozen. 

“She’s my fucking girlfriend, Josh!” Sam shouted at him, watching as blood began to trickle out of Josh’s nose and mouth. His face had grown red from the trauma of being hit, his breath hitching in gurgles. “You fucking destroyed Y/n, and now you try to destroy me? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sam reeled back for another blow, but Danny intervened, grabbing Sam off of Josh and pulling him away. 

“Sam! Stop it, that’s enough!” Danny shouted, slamming Sam back into the closest wall. He stood against it, chest heaving as he bunched his bloodied fists at his side. 

Josh lay on the kitchen floor, bleeding from his nose and cut lip, his eyes widened and stunned. Sam and Danny watched for a moment, listening to Josh moan and groan. 

“Josh–” Jake sputtered, rushing into the room, crouching by his brother, lifting him from the floor as gently as he could. 

“I didn’t–do it,” Josh croaked, spitting blood onto the floor. 

“Y/n called me,” Sam said with a spiteful smirk. “She watched you kiss my girlfriend and then pretend like it was all her idea when you were caught.” 

“Sam, go outside,” Danny ordered quietly, but sternly. “Now.” 

Sam didn’t budge from his spot until Danny began to physically remove him. 

“Can you stand?” Jake asked once Sam was out of the house. 

“I-I think so,” Josh began, grabbing onto the cabinets for help to get up, Jake righting him as he stood. 

Five minutes later, Jita had sat Josh down on his couch, prepped with a washcloth, ice, and several bandaids, though by the looks of it, there was nothing they could do to stop the bleeding coming from his nose and lip. The wash cloth had quickly changed color from white to pink, removing most of the blood from his face. It did little to minimize the ugly bruising and swelling that was beginning to set in.

“Danny left with Sam,” Jake announced, coming back into the house. “We’ll worry about his car later.” Josh looked up at his brother, feeling the puffy swelling of his eyes as he lifted his gaze. “Damn you look terrible,” Jake said with a soft chuckle. “I’m so sorry.” 

Josh shook his head slowly as Jita continued to dab at his face. “I didn’t fucking kiss or fuck her,” he repeated. “She’s an evil bitch.” He spat out the words, and Jake half expected more blood to pour from Josh’s mouth from how seethingly-angry his words were. 

“I wanted her and I to be okay. I took the first flight I could find to get back here. Hailey literally assaulted me,” He explained, his expression filled with confusion. “Now she’s lying and gaslighting me. I never did a fucking thing to her.”

“How do we prove it?” Jake asked, coming to sit beside Josh. 

“You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I believe you, Josh.” Jake couldn’t explain why, but the cliché twin-telepathy was true in this case. Jake and Josh were connected through the soul and through the heart, and though Josh wasn’t perfect, he surely wasn’t unfaithful, and Jake knew that at his core. “We need to prove it so everyone else does,” he continued. Jita looked at Jake, then to Josh nodding. 

“How did her necklace get into your pillowcase?” Jita asked, lowering the rag. “You sure you didn’t–” she began, lowering the rag to her lap, taking one last moment to question Josh in case there was any information he was keeping to himself. 

“Not once. Not ever.” He insisted without hesitation. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “You’re going to take a while to heal,” she said, assessing his injuries. “I don’t think anything’s broken. Does this hurt?” She asked, pinching at the tip and base of his nose, moving it left to right. His eyes squinted shut from pain. 

“Yes, but not too bad.”

“Then I don’t think it’s broken,” She decided, lowering her hands. “Take Advil around the clock,” she said with a pitiful smile. “That’s the best advice I have for you. Ice your face once every two to three hours. You’re gonna have one hell of a shiner,” she explained. 

“It’s okay. I would have beaten the shit out of me, too,” Josh explained, chuckling through his teeth. “I’m not mad at Sam.”

“But Hailey?” Jake asked. 

“Fuck her,” Josh answered quickly. “I will never hit a woman, but I really hope she gets what she fucking deserves.”

--

End of Part 5.

taglist:

@doodle417 @watchingovergvf@capturethechaos @sammyfuckingkiszka @ace-harrington @gvfvanfleet @flo-gvf @sacredthefran @jjwrites @jmkho @joshsindigostreak @gold-mines-melting @allieisacrybaby@sammysprincess@gretavansara @dannythedog@demolitionndann @gretasmokerising @sonicbaptism@vixenstail @hearts-hunger@malany-gvf@cal-a-bungaa @rhythm-of-space@alwaysonthemend@meetingthestardust@ageofsinners @katelynn-gvf @ageofwagner @sacredthethreadgvf@takenbythemadness @st4rdust-ch0rds @joshysgirl @gvfvanfleet @gretasfallingsky @madneedshelp @lipstickitty @myownparadise96 @meetingthestardust @vanfleeter @sacredthefran @mini-vann @sacredthethreadgvf@love-and-greta@gretafaninheat @positivegvfthings @loveisonaroll@writingcold @tearsofjosh @meetingthestarcatchers @tripthelightfatality @puzzle-gvf @takenbythemadness @intotheether-gvf @whiterosekiszka

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 3 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Thank you guys again for all your responses!! Here's Part 3 so I hope you enjoy! This one's a bit shorter so sorry about that! But short and sweet...hopefully!

Warnings: Little bit of Fluff

Part 3

It was Friday and after Friday came the blessing of the weekend. That meant plans were being made for tonight. In a place like Small Heath there was only really one place for said plans to happen, The Garrison. (y/n) rarely went out. By the end of the work day, she was always so dead tired. In addition, her colleagues were never encouraging her to join them. However, this Friday Evelyn had done a complete 180. She had been pestering her to go out all day.

“(y/n), come on! It’ll be fun! It’s the Garrison on a Friday night, it’ll be amazing!”

If there was one word to describe the pub (y/n) wouldn’t use the word amazing. From what she could remember it was a dirty, gloomy place. Always full of men that couldn’t control their hands.

“(y/n), please. I need your help. I need you to re-introduce me to Thomas. I’m begging you. Begging.”

And there it was, the real reason. (y/n) didn’t have the heart to tell her that Thomas didn’t seem interested but then again (y/n) wasn’t sure if that was true. She had heard the rumors about his wild ways, the one-night stands, the exotic clubs in London. Thomas didn’t seem scared of stringing along a woman just to dip his fingers in the honey occasionally.  

In the end it was Mr. Beavers who pushed her over the edge, “Yes, I fully support this. (y/n) you’ve been working far too hard these past few weeks. I want you to go out, have a drink, have fun, and let your hair down. It’s an order.”

With that, (y/n) dropped her head in defeat.

“Meet you there at seven.” Came Evelyn’s gloating voice.

To say it was crowded would be an understatement. It was packed. The two women pushed open the thick doors and was greeted with a wave of heavy, hot air.

“Come on, let’s get some drinks first. The rest of the group will be near the back.” Evelyn had to raise her voice to be heard over the rowdy pub.

They pushed their way forwards and came upon the bartender.

“Two old fashions please.” Evelyn ordered for the both of them but (y/n) didn’t mind. She was busy surveying the crowd. It contained both the old and the young but the one thing they shared was their level of intoxication. She kept on scanning until her heart jumped straight from her chest into her throat.

It was those eyes. Ice. Ocean. River. And Sky. At the very back of the pub he was sitting at a table with a few other men. He was staring straight at her. Unmoving except to raise a glass to his lips. (y/n) felt like prey. One of those poor antelopes she read about in the library. Weak creatures who grazed quietly on the plains until they heard a noise, a twig snapping, and then they were running and running. And if they glanced behind, they would see the paralyzing image of a lion, crazed eyes, wide open jaw, the teeth glistening.

(y/n) went against her instincts and turned her back. She picked up her drink and took gulp. She was never going to make it out of this alive. Evelyn guided her through the masses until they reached the corner where (y/n) recognized a group of colleagues. Evelyn made sure to sit right next to her, “As soon as I spot him, I’ll nudge you and we’re going to re-do the introductions, understand?”

(y/n) only nodded. She didn’t really care. She could already feel a headache brewing but she made conversation with Mark from the business section all the same. After an hour (y/n) couldn’t take the humid air anymore she detached herself from Evelyn who was already tipsy and didn’t seem to notice before carefully weaving through the crowd and out the door. She walked up the street a bit and leaned against the opening of the back alley of The Garrison.

She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm against the evening’s brisk air. Winter was around the corner, and she could tell it was going to be a brutal one. Suddenly there was a noise, a metal clang in the depths of the alley. Her head spun around to look into the darkness. (y/n) wasn’t stupid she knew what kind of people hung about at this time of night, but she also wasn’t very keen on going back into the sweat box of the pub. She pushed off the wall to get a better look down the alley; she was hoping to catch sight of a rat or racoon. As she squinted her eyes, she just began to make out the looming figure of a man. Her heart started to thrum in her ears and before she could get another clear look, she quickly took a step back only to collide with something.

(y/n) gasped and twirled around putting her hands up to push away whatever it was. But it was Thomas and before she could hit him, he clasped both of her arms and dragged her towards him, out of the darkness and into the soft lights of the Garrison’s windows. She watched him stare over her head into the open mouth of the alley, daring something or someone to show its face but when she glanced around there was nothing.  

“Not smart for a woman to be out ‘ere alone.”

“I needed some air.”

Thomas stared down at her. She didn’t even realize he was moving before a hand came up off her arm to carefully brush asway some loose hair from her forehead. He hummed quietly in acknowledgment. The way his eyes raked over her face should have been illegal. They scoured the entire plain of her face before briefly fixating on her lips.

“Just like at the platform, eh?” He squeezed her arms as emphasis.

“That was a long time ago, Mr. Shelby.” (y/n) whispered.

“Only a few years.” Accompanied by a small step forward so their chests were almost brushing.

(y/n) swallowed at the proximity. She could count his freckles. She could see the pale skin and dark, long, beautiful eyelashes. The softness he held in his eyes. It all felt so terribly familiar.

Too close. She frantically whispered to herself. Too close.

“Call me Tommy.” He caressed her arms, up and down, “Just once.”

She looked up at him, “Mr. Shelby…”

He shut his eyes and shook his head. His dark hair falling over his forehead, “Please.”

The Garrison doors burst open with a bang and the two of them jumped apart. A gaggle of very drunk looking young men stumbled out onto the street. (y/n) watched them trip over themselves as the clumsily passed them by. They called out and hooted all the way down the dark road.

Whatever moment the two of them had was gone, broken, “I should be getting back, Mr. Shelby.” She couldn’t bring herself to actually look at him. She was ashamed to say she would rather take the sweaty, roaring interior of The Garrison over being alone with Thomas.

And when next week’s Thursday came around it was all forgotten. Thomas acted no different and (y/n) moved on.

But in the night, when she was weak and tired, she would replay the moment over and over. The sight of those lips, full and soft. The delusional feeling of them brushing her own. Feather light but carrying with them the heat of desire. Then down her neck, they would turn hotter, hungrier. They would open and suck and bite and mark and…Stupid girl. She’d say. Stupid girl.

Part 2 --- Part 4

[readychilledwine]

3 facts about your OCs aaaaaand go!

*blinks slowly* all... all my ocs?

Warning - long post

Aelia (Broken)

Her favorite holiday is Solstice Eve. She doesn't care if it's not an actual holiday. She will throw hands over this topic

She's been begging Rhys for sunken greenhouse for a while. He doesn't understand why they'd need it, but he's coming around.

Aelia can control the weather. Happy? Large snowfall. Angry? Blistering heat and humidity. Sad? Thunderstorms all day.

Rhiannon (Requiem for a Dream)

Rhiannon hates hard candy. Which works for Azriel. It's the weirdos favorite.

She's only ever had sex with Rhys. Both due to insecurities from her father ripping her wings off her back, and because when you already fuck a God, why would you settle for disappointment?

Rhiannon became so in touch with the realm during her father's imprisonment of her and Azriel that she began to be able to speak to it similarly to Azriel and his shadows. It caught Rhysand's father's attention, and he forced her to stay close to him. If Hybern so much as pissed near a log during the first war, Rhiannon knew.

Lyria Vanserra (Slow Hands)

Lyria spent 39 years being owned by Rhys UTM. She was the one who'd originally dance for him at parties until Feyre came. Their relationship is complex, loving, and so deeply rooted into both of them, Rhys may have married her had he never met Feyre.

Lyria is Helion's and Beron knows, Lucien he questions, but Lyria he knows. He found out when Lyria was 5. She was cuddling on his lap in his office and annoyed because the sun was in her eyes, preventing her from sleeping on her daddy. She ended up forcing the sun to change position and instantly fell asleep in his arms. That was the first and only time LoA saw Beron cry because of how emotionally hurt he was. Beron pretended not to know he wasn't Lyria's father until she was sold to Rhys. He loved her too much to let her go.

Lyria is also banned from the Summer Court. Cassian destroyed a building. Lyria streaked through one. That building happened to be a temple. She doesn't remember why she's banned. Only that her and Tarquin were having fun until some lady came and yelled at them.

Seren (Death of Peace of Mind)

She's my cuntiest OC in that she serves and is one.

Seren will not wear a dress that costs less than 90 gold marks. It made sewing for her a pain for her mother, but her father absolutely loved showering her with the finest silks, hand-made lace, and furs.

Seren hates chocolate. It's a trait that she's pretty sure actually runs in their family, but Rhys pretends to enjoy it so people don't judge him. Seren doesn't care if you judge her. Your taste buds are wrong. Not hers.

Aerilyn (Flight Patterns)

Aerilyn speaks 20 languages due to how often her and the dragons move. Arguably, she may be the smartest person in the room for that reason.

Aerilyn would rather sleep in the pit with her little pack than on a bed. She's snuck out several times to do it and snuck in to make sure she wasn't caught.

Aerilyn is unaware that she has powers. She thinks her relationship with the dragons is completely normal for a rider.

Kaylee Archeron (Bound by Fate)

Kaylee is heavily based off of snow-white, and I mean that. So spoiler if you know the story.

Kaylee hates wearing pants. Azriel stares too much when she does, and she doesn't get why. She's just Kaylee. There's nothing to stare at. (Besides that ass)

Elain gardens, Nesta reads, Feyre painted, Kaylee does sketches. Preferably animals, and babies. Kaylee loves babies.

Amelia Archeron (Kissed by Fire)

Amelia doesn't have hobbies. She was so busy working in the brothel that for years she lost herself.

Amelia dreams of traveling the world and far-off places. Her drawer on the dresser was painted like a map with autumn leaves in the corners

Amelia and Lucien have a close relationship. Both of them are closer to each other than they are any of their siblings. He's the little brother she always wanted. She's the big sister Lucien always needed.

Seraphina Vanserra (Lollipop)

Sera was raised UTM. She's desensitized to cruelty to where she doesn't even realize it is happening. Seraphina lacks some social skills and cues because of this as well. Cassian adores that.

Seraphina was never allowed to train her powers because she is a female and because Amarantha took them when she was young. She has no clue what she can do or who she is.

She became a hopeless romantic after sneaking out of the mountain one night and seeing the night sky for the first time. Rhysand was the one who found the 15 year old, and instead of punishing her or forcing her back inside, he told her the stories behind all the constellations.

Briar (Suprises)

Briar is the cause behind both Spring and Night losing their previous high lords and their mates. At least she feels that way despite Rhysand telling her that her father was an abusive male

Briar once asked Rhys why they weren't just one giant poly family. The answer was Mor. He said it'd be too weird.

Briar has planned the gardens of Day, Night, and Dawn since she left Spring. She has sketches laying them out every year, and Rhys keeps the old ones safe. He looks at them when she's busy and he misses her.

Irelina (Early Mornings)

Irelina is from the only Illyrian camp that does not clip wings, and she is technically the overseer of said camp. She has hands she trusts to watch it in her place so she can be with Cassian.

Irelina was actually seeing Azriel before the Bond snapped between her and Cassian. She loved Azriel too much to let him go, though, and he loved her and Cass so much that the three became a throuple.

Irelina once had to correct someone for calling Cassian "Irelina's husband." Cassian promptly told them they were correct, and that was his name.