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bloodyserratus · 6 months

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aural fixation

pairing: nanami x fem!reader word count: 11.5k synopsis: kento never knew that ino had a sister. and when he finally meets you, he can't help but feel like there's something so familiar about you... themes/warnings: SMUT! mdni. she/her pronouns, reader is a virtual sex worker (erotic audios, camming, etc.), dommy!nanami, subby/bratty!reader. lil bit of daddy kink, mentions of restraints, domesticity/apron kink? there's a lot of smut and plot. phonesex.

a/n: ...how did this get so LONG?!?!! 😵‍💫 i'm so happy it's out of my brain.

You tapped your chin as you scrolled through notifications. A handful of comments, two new subscribers, and two direct messages. The DMs were spam, so you went to check the results of your recent poll for top tier subscribers. It was time for your monthly, limited audience live stream and you had offered up a few dates and times. The results were quite split this time, which concerned you, but Friday at 7:30 pm had won by a few votes, so you went ahead and created an event.

A smile snuck onto your lips when you noticed that ken73 had voted for the chosen timeslot. It was probably just confirmation bias, but you felt like ken73 always voted when you put out polls. Part of this was likely because he was your longest time subscriber, so you were most familiar with his username. Reality or not, you were glad for the support. He had been a consistent lifeline when you’d first started this work out of necessity to support yourself and your younger brother, Takuma.

Takuma was older now, and though you didn’t exactly understand what his job was, it meant he could be self reliant. Similarly, you really didn’t need the income from virtual sex work anymore, but something about it kept you engaged. Whether it was sheer boredom or the freedom of being able to explore your sexuality on your terms, you’d stayed active enough to generate a decent little income stream while it still stayed fun.

‘see you next friday!~’ you captioned a photo of yourself.

In it you were wearing a new set of lingerie. In the grand scheme of things, it was relatively modest, but you hoped it served the purpose of piquing your subscribers’ interest.

…

Kento loosened his tie as he walked into his apartment. It had been a long day. Meetings with Principal Yaga and training with the students at Tokyo Jujutsu High. The training really wasn't nearly as challenging as dealing with Gojo, their teacher. As much as Kento cared for and trusted Gojo, he had never not found himself irked at the end of the day by his shenanigans.

He sighed as he scrolled through his notifications. He made quick work of it, marking items read and flagging things for follow up. His eyebrows raised when he saw the notification for your livestream. Friday at 7:30 pm. He quickly created an event on his calendar so as not to forget.

A soft smile settled on his lips as he examined the photo you’d posted with the announcement. He’d been subscribed to you for so long that the swells and curves of your shape were familiar like old friends and yet, like an old friend, it still brought him joy to see them. His eyes traced the lace lines of your lingerie, but ultimately he found himself fixated on the shape of your chin. For all of the suggestive and sexual ways in which he’d been able to consume you, he had never seen your face. He understood the safety boundaries that you had to maintain, but it didn’t mean he didn’t wonder.

Wonder whether your pleading and begging would be accompanied with round, doe eyes, like he imagined, or a shape more similar to a cat or fox. Wonder what color hair he might find himself with a handful of, in an alternate universe where he was lucky enough to enjoy you in the flesh. Wonder exactly which kinks were yours and which were just good customer service.

“Hmm,” Kento exhaled and stood to pour himself a drink. All this thinking had left him straining against the front of his briefs.

He set his glass tumbler down before undoing his belt buckle. The tendons in his fingers flexed deftly before it came undone with a quiet ‘shhhhhk’. He popped open the button at his waistband before sitting back down. Kento turned on the television in his living room and cast photos from his phone onto it. An album of his favorites was easily summoned at his fingertips and he palmed himself through his zipper as he flipped them.

“Shit,” he groaned, hips bucking slightly, as he arrived at one of his favorites.

It was actually a screenshot of one of his favorite streams. You’d just been in the middle of checking comments, so it wasn’t the most explicit image that he had of you, but something about the way your tits threatened spilled out of your bra as you’d used the mouse had entranced and haunted him until this day.

Kento took his glasses off and set them aside before he unzipped himself slowly. He felt the teeth of the zipper unlatch, delaying gratification slightly, before he pulled himself out. He was thick and heavy in his own palm and already shiny with precum. He spread the slick across his tip with the pad of his thumb and inhaled sharply at the sensation. He dragged his fingers up and down his hard shaft slowly, thinking of how soft your hands would be compared to his. His thighs tensed as his precum spread, making each pass silkier and smoother than the last.

After a few more thrusts up into his face, Kento needed more. He navigated to your audio scenarios and pulled up one of his favorites. ‘Don’t Be So Mean to Me…it Makes Me Really Wet’. Kento had to roll his eyes a little at the title, but it was one of his favorite flavors of you. Whiny, submissive, and playing right into some kinks that he was slightly in denial about having. He scrubbed through the intro…he’d heard it so many times that he could’ve recited it for you.

‘s-stop’ your recorded voice sounded in his apartment.

‘do you always have to tease me like that?’

“You like it,” Kento growled, fist tight around his cock at your airy moans.

‘you’re right, I do’ you giggled, ‘is that bad of me? you’re so mean to me and it just,’ your voice hitched here, ‘...it just makes me leak.’

Kento closed his eyes and shook his head.

‘no? you…you know it does?’ you asked, surprise clear in your voice. ‘do you…do you do it to me on purpose? i-’

He imagined your eyes flashing up at him, eyes wide and pupils wider as you squirmed below him.

‘why?’ you asked in a tiny voice.

“Because I need you to be soaked if you’re ever going to make this fit,” he jerked his cock forcefully.

‘oh! oh…i get to? get to have this?’ your voice was sultry now and the sound of rustling in the audio put him fully into your imagined context. ‘it’s so big, though…’

His brow furrowed as he slumped back into his chair further.

‘you’re going to make it fit?’ you purred excitedly, ‘show me’

Kento’s imagination ran wild. The way he would pick you up and toss you over his shoulder. Or bend you over the back of this armchair. Not in a rush, though, he would allow himself to enjoy the sight of your wet lips soaking through your panties between the plush landscape of your thighs. He might even allow himself to kiss up the backs of your legs from the pits of your knees to your slick inner thighs. You would wiggle impatiently, but his firm hand would keep you pinned over the back of the chair, toes barely able to brush the ground beneath you.

‘ohhhh, you’re one of those.’ you sighed as if frustrated, ‘can’t you be a little more…excited? that you get to have me this way? all puffy and swollen for you?’

He smirked. You were an impatient little thing, at times.

‘don’t you just want to sliiiiide that big cock into my little cunt? or…at least your fingers, right? it would be so easy with how wet you’ve got me’ you coaxed so sweetly.

Kento bit his lip, letting off with his hand for a moment. As a verified enthusiast, he could confirm that you did have the wettest little pussy that he’d ever laid eyes on. The way your lips split prettily around your fingers always made him think about how much deeper his could reach and stretch.

‘i thought so’ you giggled as you slid into yourself with a wet gush. ‘god your-, your fingers…they’re a lot bigger than mine,’ you sighed contentedly.

‘but i think you should really show me how much bigger that cock of yours is. if you think you can last, that is.’

Kento’s lip curled at your bratty teasing. He had no doubt that he could outlast a wanton little slut like yourself, but he so enjoyed the way that you egged him on.

‘i know…the sight of me creaming all over your cock…it’s enough to make anyone bust a nut. but that’s what i was hoping for anyways. as soon as i saw you, i thought, ‘hmm…he looks big and strong. i bet he would hold me down on his cock and breed me. breed my pussy. maybe that would finally satisfy me and make me less of a cockstarved little slut.’

“Doubtful,” he snickered, thrusting forcefully back up into his fist again. But he’d be happy to try. Fuck load after load of his cum into you. Listen to you moan and arch for him like a bitch in heat until each thrust did nothing but push his creamy ropes of cum back out, dripping down to your knees.

Kento’s balls tightened as he listened to you fuck yourself, your moans growing louder and less restrained. Little gasps and hiccups peppered your dirty words and he anticipated the moment that sent him over the edge each time without fail.

‘am…,’ you sniffled ‘am-, am,’ you struggled to speak between thrusts of your dildo. ‘am i being a good girl?’ you sounded so unsure of yourself and that flipped something deep inside of Kento’s brain.

“Fuckkkkkkkk,” Kento let out a deep, primal groan. “Yes,” he panted, about to burst. “Such a good girl. Such a good girl letting me fuck you like this,” he praised through gritted teeth before his cock jerked. Spurts of cum shot out onto his crumpled dress shirt and tie. His chest heaved with deep breaths and by the time his cock had deflated, he had also recovered.

A light flush covered the bridge of his nose as he peeled his shirt off and cleaned up. He was always a little embarrassed at the way he unraveled when listening to you. He considered himself to be an upstanding citizen, so how it was that you unlocked this crazed, unhinged version of himself, he still didn’t quite understand.

Checking the watch on his wrist, Kento sighed. Another day of sorcery work awaited him in the morning so it was time for him to go to bed.

…

Ino looked at Nanami Kento with admiration. They were on their way back from exorcizing a handful of Grade 2 curses. Ino had been able to handle them with minimal assistance from Nanami, which had his chest full of pride.

“Nanami-san, do you have any plans for the weekend?” Ino asked his mentor as they rode the subway.

“...no,” Nanami answered after some thought.

The most exciting thing he had planned for this weekend was your livestream on Friday, but he certainly wasn't about to share that with Ino.

“Do you?” he asked the younger man, a gentle look on his face.

“Not yet, but, oh!” Ino’s face lit up suddenly, “That reminds me, I need to call my sister back. She had asked about having a meal together this weekend.”

Nanami’s eyebrows raised. He wasn't aware that Ino had a sister.

“Do you mind if I do that now?” Ino asked when they got back to street level. “I'm worried I'll forget again.”

“Go ahead,” Nanami shrugged. They were just walking back to Jujutsu High.

“Hey sis! Yeah, yeah I know,” Ino grew sheepish as he spoke to his sister on the phone. “I’m sorry I forgot! But yes we should get dinner this weekend. How about Friday?”

Nanami smiled. Ino’s boyish nature showed through as he talked and something about it tugged at his heartstrings.

“Oh, you’re busy Friday? Hm, okay how about Saturday? Okay, Saturday then! Let me know where we should go. My treat!”

Nanami heard the voice on the phone protest at this, but Ino insisted.

“All set?” he smiled when the younger man slipped his cell phone back into his pocket.

“Yup! Seeing her Saturday,” Ino flashed a bright smile at Nanami.

“Are you close with your sister?” Nanami found himself asking.

Ino received this question with a look of surprise. Nanami was not prone to small talk, so this caught him quite off guard. He blinked a few times before standing up a little straighter and launching into a monologue about you.

Apparently Ino and his sister were quite close. He explained that his sister had largely raised him due to the significant traveling required by both of his parents’ jobs. She had encouraged him through school and taken on part time jobs in order to help support him. Nanami could tell that Ino felt a great deal of admiration towards her and perhaps that he owed an unpayable debt to her too. He wondered if you knew details of the line of work that Ino was now in or anything about the jujutsu world at all.

“We’re here,” Nanami decided to keep those questions unasked for now. “I have a meeting with Principal Yaga. Good work today.”

“Thank you, Nanami-san!” Ino bowed, brimming with happiness.

…

You checked the clock. Ten minutes until you started your stream. You checked your appearance again in the mirror and tried to reassure yourself that you looked fine. You were dressed in an oversized sweater with lingerie underneath. You wondered how many of your top tier subscribers would tune in today.

“Here we go,” you whispered to yourself before starting the stream. “Hi guys!” you greeted the virtual room.

A few logins dinged as you checked your framing to ensure that your face was out of view.

“Hi Todo, Hi Ken~,” you greeted a few of your regulars as their usernames popped up.

todollyawesome: ‘damn ken, the way she says your name’

ken73: ‘hi cinnamon roll’

You giggled at the nickname. The pseudonym you used online was Cinna and some while ago, fans had taken to calling you their cinnamon roll. Ken was one of the only ones who still used it and it made you feel warm and fuzzy with familiarity.

“I said hi to you too, Todo!” you protested playfully, watching as the viewer numbers ticked up, but only slightly. For an exclusive subscriber stream, it was to be expected, but you were grateful for everyone that did show up.

todollyawesome: ‘yeah but not like the way you say ken73’s name. its fine i get it, he’s dreamy’

You chuckled heartily at this. todollyawesome was another loyal subscriber of yours. Not quite as long as ken73, but he had a personality that certainly stood out. He was playful, boisterous, and always cracking jokes.

“Small group today then, I guess,” you cocked your head to the side. “What’s on everyone’s minds?”

todollyawesome: ‘you and your big juicy ass’

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘work tomorrow’

“Work tomorrow? On Saturday? Yuck,” you stuck your tongue out with distaste.

Kento nodded in agreement. He didn’t chime in to the chatterbox and instead took the time to observe you. You were dressed in an oversized, cozy sweater with part of the collar off-shoulder. This exposed one black bra strap and a generous view of your collarbone. Kento found himself wanting to suck and bite, marking you up.

“Shall we relieve some stress?” you asked, “Or do we just feel like chatting?”

It was a genuine question. While you were technically a sex worker, sometimes your smaller group streams did just naturally end up as chatting with a few friends.

“Aside from piercing, do other folks have weekend plans?”

todollyawesome: ‘hanging out with my best friend, yuj’

“Nice!” you smiled. “What about you, Ken?”

Kento’s eyebrows raised at the direct call out.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘RIP cinna’s not even tryna hide her favoritism anymore’

todollyawesome: ‘man we been known that he was her favorite, old news’

“I mean…,” you laughed softly at the direct call out, “He’s been with me the longest,” you shrugged.

It was silly, of course, but you did have your favorites. Aside from being your longer subscriber, he also quite liked his personality. It was straightforward and though not as colorful as todo’s, it stood out to you just as much if not more.

In conversational settings, like now, he was quite reserved. While others liked to draw your attention by being ostentatious, Ken rarely did that. In sexual settings, however, he seemed to change completely. His messages were domineering, demanding, and downright filthy. You recalled clenching while reading them more than a few times. Ken struck you as someone who knew very clearly what they wanted and articulated it.

The personality that you'd fabricated for him was one of quiet confidence and unbridled, raw sexuality. A heady combination.

Kento swelled at the simple explanation for why he was your favorite. A sort of possessive pride filled up his chest at this subtle confirmation.

ken73: 'you're my favorite too.’

todollyawesome: ‘dude they're flirting 👀’

p1ercing.c0ck: 'don't mind me just watching 👀’

“Oh you're both into watching, huh?” you teased, eyebrows raising off screen. “How do you feel about that, Ken?”

Kento considered this for a moment.

ken73: ‘i'm not sure, to be honest’

You grinned. This was a very characteristic answer. Open and honest.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘i just know it's big zaddy ken’

This had you cackling. You really did adore your top tier subscribers.

Kento flushed at the compliment.

“Speaking of big,” you hummed as you looked over your toy collection. “What do we think of this one?” you selected a dildo and brought it on screen. It was sizable to say the least. Girthy with a bulbous head, it was one of your favorite toys because of the way it popped inside of you initially.

todollyawesome: 'oh fuck yea! gonna show us how you take it?’

ken73: ‘love seeing you spread open around it’

“Piercing’s hands are too busy to type, I guess,” you teased as you stood up and readjusted. You moved the camera down to the floor and adhered the suction cup on the base of the dildo. You straddled it and flipped your skirt up.

“Oh I'm wet, guys,” you moaned, tugging your panties upwards so that the fabric outlined your puffy lips more clearly. A damp, dark spot was obvious.

todollyawesome: 'fucking super soaker 🥴’

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘on my computer screen but never on me 😔’

You rocked your hips, grinding your clit against the taut fabric. A warbled moan left your lips and the chat box popped off again.

ken73: ‘you sound so gorgeous’

todollyawesome: ‘that voice makes me NUT every time, without fail’

“Hah, thanks guys,” you smiled as you let off your clit slightly. “Can I please sit on it?” you cooed.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘PLEASE GOD YES’

todallyawesome: ‘i’m gonna pass out if you DONT. ON GAWD’

ken73: ‘...do you think you’ve been good enough?’

Your chest fluttered. Ken was so withholding and it drove you wild.

“I think I’ve been good,” you pouted, “Don’t you think I’m a good girl, Ken?”

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘bro…should we leave?’

todollyawesome: ‘y’all need to do a 1:1 stream FR’

Your eyebrows perked at that. You weren’t not interested.

“You’re right, I’m singling him out, aren’t I?” you relented. “Well, I suppose I should sit on this thing and give you what you came for,” you teased, singsongily.

You angled your hips back so that the tip pressed against the wet fabric of your panties.

“Hmm, panties off or pushed to the side?” you asked your audience. “To the side, it is!” you grinned at the easy consensus.

A soft moan left your lips when you pushed your panties to the side. The slick juices caused the elastic to roll across your clit in a way that had you reeling. You glanced quickly as you positioned yourself over the bulbous head. It was a gratuitous upskirt shot as you lowered yourself on the toy slowly.

Kento groaned, hand fisted around his angry erection as he lowered it in time with you. His eyes were glued to your shining lips and the way they spread to accommodate the toy’s girth. Even just after one pass, it was coated with your slick ooze.

“So nice,” you exhaled dreamily when you reached the base. “So full.”

ken73: ‘good girl’

todollyawesome: ‘i’m dead. i died.’

Kento rocked his hips up into his fist as you worked yourself up and down on the toy. You were so fucking wet that a ring of froth was starting to collect at the base. God what he wouldn’t give to see that around his own cock. The swollen, dark head disappearing into your lovely folds as you utterly coated him with your arousal.

“Oh fuck,” you panted, your nipples tightening as your bounces grew sloppier. “I-, hmph!”

ken73: ‘gonna cum already? desperate thing…’

“It’s so wide,” you tried to explain, “The head. Feels so good,” you moaned wantonly.

“I love,” your breathing grew labored, “Love that fat tip,” you cried desperately as it raked against your sensitive spots.

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘god it’s so good when she gets like this’

Kento agreed. So aroused that you could barely string together sentences. He threw his head back and milked himself faster. The tendons in his forearm and hand flexed deliciously as he applied firm pressure to his cock. His thumb brushed over the tip occasionally, which caused his whole body to tense and shudder with pleasure.

“I-, I’m,” you spoke through your panting, “Gonna cum,” you whined just before your body tensed. The orgasm shot through your body with a shudder and a long, satisfied moan wrenched from your lips.

Kento grunted as the sound of your release triggered his. His heavy balls tightened and cum spurted through his stranglehold onto his tummy and chest. He continued stroking lazily, half hard, as he watched you rock through a second orgasm, this time with the toy stuffed deeply inside of you with shorter up and down motions. Ken wondered how many times he might be able to lazily pump you through orgasms until you tapped out.

“Thank you guys for tuning in,” you smiled as you supported yourself with your forearms planted in front of you. “I had fun, as always.”

p1ercing.c0ck: ‘thank you you beautiful goddess!!’

todollyawesome: ‘MARRY ME PLZ CINNA’

ken73: ‘thank you, princess. i think todolly was joking, but curious if i may in fact DM you about a 1:1 or custom audio? if you’re open to it’

Your heart skipped a beat at Ken’s message.

“Please do!” you smiled, blowing a kiss at the camera before ending the stream.

…

You huffed after checking your email. The past twenty hours had seen you searching for a notification from your streaming platform that never came. Perhaps ken73 hadn't been serious, but he didn't strike you as the type to ask that question flippantly. Shaking your head, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and you scanned the area for Takuma once more.

“Hey sis!” you saw his beanied head emerge from the crowd suddenly.

“Takuma!” you waved at him excitedly. When he got close enough, you folded him into a giant hug. It had been too long since you’d last seen him.

“How are you? You look great,” Takuma complimented you genuinely.

“Well thank you,” you laughed. Takuma hadn't changed.

“Aren’t you going to tell me I look great too?” your brother asked cheekily.

You leaned your head back and let out a belly laugh.

“I don’t know,” you teased, “This beanie…I don’t know if I dig the look.”

Takuma crossed his arms and huffed in protest.

“I look cool!”

“You always look cool,” you patted his head affectionately. Takuma had outgrown you in height now, so you had to reach up to do it, but he was still your little brother. “Hungry?”

“Yes! Always.”

“So how are things with your…work?”

You had a blurry understanding of the jujutsu world. When Takuma had first enrolled in Tokyo Jujutsu High, Principal Yaga had met with you as a courtesy to help you understand exactly why Takuma had been chosen. Takuma had excitedly kept you apprised of his training and ascension through the levels, but after graduating and becoming fully fledged, the sharing had ceased. You certainly understood the need to keep secrets too, so you never pushed too hard. So long as Takuma came home safe, you were satisfied.

“Really good!” Takuma beamed, “I had an assignment with Nanami-san this week. I learn a lot when I get to work with him.”

You smiled. This Nanami had become a mentor of sorts to Takuma through the years. It was clear that Takuma looked up to him and perhaps even idolized him to a degree.

“How are things with you?”

“Good,” you flipped through the menu, “Things at the office have been surprisingly calm and not much has changed.”

“That’s good,” Takuma smiled.

Dinner passed quickly with Takuma filling most of the silence with stories about the new students at Jujutsu High. You listened to him happily. Even if you didn’t share much in common anymore, these days, you were glad to see that Takuma hadn’t lost any of his positivity. It seemed that this Nanami-san was doing his best to take care of him and for that you were truly grateful.

“That dinner was not good,” Takuma shook his head regretfully as you left the restaurant with him.

“I have to agree,” you felt bad saying it, but it was true. “How about I cook for us next time?”

“I would love that! I miss your cooking,” Takuma beamed at you.

“Let me know what you want me to make!” and you chuckled at the speed with which your brother started rattling dishes off the top of his head.

…

‘You have (1) new messages!’

Your eyebrows raised. You clicked on the hyperlink in the email which brought you to the streaming platform.

ken73: ‘I apologize for the delay. Following up on my comment from earlier. I would love to discuss commissioning a custom audio from you.’

You were a bit surprised. You would’ve expected a 1:1 video session to be more interesting, but alas.

sweetcinna: ‘of course! I was starting to think you weren’t serious ;)’ sweetcinna: ‘full transparency, I haven’t done any custom audios to date, but am willing! if you have a script already or a scenario with some themes in mind, that would be really helpful’

Along with that, you sent some rough ideas of pricing that were mostly a wild guess.

Kento stared at his phone. Scenarios and themes…his mind went blank. All he could think was that he just enjoyed hearing you moan, but that wasn’t anything that you could go off of. He tapped the side of his phone as he thought.

If he let his mind run wild…what would it come up with? He certainly enjoyed your playful and sometimes teasing nature. Your little exhales of surprise made him think he would quite enjoy putting you in your place, manhandling you if needed. Looking up from his phone, the tie on his dresser from the day prior caught his eye. He would love to see you wear it and he wondered if he would enjoy binding your wrists with it.

ken73: ‘I enjoy it when you’re playful and tease. I imagine myself manhandling you a bit when you need to be put in your place. Lastly, I wear a tie to work every day…’

A delighted smile crept up your lips. So a little bit of a brat tamer and perhaps some shibari or bondage interest. You could work with that.

sweetcinna: ‘hm, ok! does an office/workplace scenario interest you?’ ken73: ‘Candidly, no. I prefer not to think about my job during off hours.’ sweetcinna: ‘that’s totally fair, I get it.’ sweetcinna: ‘hmm, how about something more domestic? like welcoming you home after a long day of work.’ ken73: ‘That sounds quite nice.’ sweetcinna: ‘perfect…also what would you like me to call you in this audio scenario?’ ken73: ‘You can keep calling me Ken.’ sweetcinna: ‘sounds good, ken :)’ sweetcinna: ‘let me mull this over a bit and flesh out the scene a bit more. i’ll send you more plot points as I think of them!’ ken73: ‘Great. Thank you, princess. And payment should already be to you.’

This surprised you. You checked and it was indeed already there in your virtual tip jar.

sweetcinna: ‘thank you sugar daddy! ;P’

Kento’s eyebrows raised sharply.

Daddy…

…

You tapped your chin with a pencil as you looked at the sheet of paper in front of you.

playful/bratty character

brat tamer? Ken

welcoming him home from work

his tie

You huffed. Maybe this custom audio thing was tougher than you had expected. How were you supposed to come up with something out of thin air? You laid down in your bed and closed your eyes, allowing your mind to roam for a bit.

You wondered about Ken. He seemed somewhat stern, but he had to have a wild side if he was following you. You wondered what he looked like. You imagined someone tall and strong. You weren’t sure if the 73 in his username referred to his birth year, but you had assumed that he must be a bit older. You wondered if you should play into a bit of an age gap fantasy…a lot of men tended to enjoy that. Your eyes popped back open as an idea struck you.

“Aha!” you ran back to your desk and scribbled down a few more bullet points.

Ken coming home from work

I’ve been teasing him all day with suggestive texts and explicit pictures

Ken is frustrated and has been aching to get home to reprimand me

I welcome Ken home dressed in nothing but an apron

Ken is stern, ties my wrists together to a bedpost. spanks and overstimulates me until i apologize

You did some more workshopping of the phrasing before sending it off to ken73. You were delighted when he wrote back that he loved the scenario.

…

Kento couldn’t wait to get home. He had received your audio file in his email earlier in the day and he had rushed through the rest of the day in a blur. Exorcizing curses seemed much more tolerable when he had something to look forward to at the end of the day. Gojo’s antics hadn’t even bothered him as much as usual, which was exceedingly rare.

He shrugged off his jacket and harness while he slipped off his shoes. It wasn’t much longer before he had your file open and was pressing ‘play’.

‘hi baby, welcome home!’ your voice greeted him, sounding slightly far away as some background noise accompanied it.

‘i’m in the kitchen!’

Kento closed his eyes, imagining walking through a set of hallways, slightly on edge from your teasing throughout the day.

“You’re acting awfully chipper,” he greeted you with a cool, terse voice. “When you’ve been acting like a needy little slut all day.”

‘who me?’ you giggled breathily.

“Yes, you,” he growled, stepping through the final doorway to the kitchen. His eyes glanced over your and they widened upon finding that you were dressed only in an apron.

‘hi Ken,’ you greeted him shyly.

Ken’s jaw ticked. Did you think there weren’t going to be any consequences for your actions?

‘i missed you today,’ you stepped towards him, but were stopped.

“You pissed me off today,” he imagined gripping you by the wrists firmly.

‘oh? i-’

“I had a lot of work to get done and I was able to accomplish practically none of it. Sending me all of those pictures and texts…”

‘oh did i distract you?’ you giggled, toying with him. ‘you know i can’t control myself when i get like that’

Kento snorted. This was indeed true. When you were turned on, there was practically no stopping you.

‘maybe you need to teach me a lesson,’ you wondered and he could hear the smirk on your face when you’d said that.

“Maybe I do,” Kento responded to your taunt. Maybe he needed to tie your wrists together with his necktie and spank you until you apologized for your behavior.

‘where are you taking me?’ you asked

“To teach you that lesson,” he replied.

‘you’re-, you’re tying me up?’ your voice sounded like a purr of a delight.

Kento imagined binding your wrists to his headboard, lifting your legs up by the ankles, and folding you in half so that the backs of your thighs were exposed to him. Then you’d have to count. To ten.

‘one!’ you cried at the sound of a spank.

Kento was surprised. You really made it immersive. By the tenth and final spank, your voice had grown airy and you had melted into the bed. He wouldn’t be surprised if you were soaked by now. Soaked and ready for him.

‘ken I need you,’ you moaned desperately. ‘i’ve needed you all day, please’

“So desperate,” he found himself teasing as he palmed himself through his slacks.

‘baby pleeease? can i please have that cock?’

It was too easy to melt at your request. He pulled himself out of his zipper and stroked, nodding to himself.

‘i can’t stop thinking about you,’ you confessed before wet sounds sucked Kento fully into the fantasy.

Your mouth and your pussy were used freely and you came loudly for him several times. He was proud of himself for lasting until the end of the audio, but the sounds of you hiccuping and begging for him to cum inside of you ultimately pushed him right over the edge and he exploded magnificently into his own hand.

Kento breathed deeply for a while before he tidied himself up. You were addicting.

ken73: ‘Thank you so much for that, sweetheart. Incredible.’

…

Why were you flustered by a message?! You wanted to smack yourself. The message you had received from Ken had been so simple and yet you found yourself melting at his praise.

sweetcinna: ‘thank you!! i really enjoyed making it.’ sweetcinna: ‘may I ask you? do you find yourself responding to me in the scenario? i often wonder that about my listeners, but haven’t ever asked!’

Ken was surprised at your question. He hadn’t even really been expecting a message back, since the transaction was technically complete.

ken73: ‘It sounds silly, but I do respond sometimes. You are very talented at creating an immersive scene, so I can’t help it at times.’ sweetcinna: ‘thank you very much.’ sweetcinna: ‘would it be odd to share that i’m curious what you sound like? like what types of responses come to your mind when you listen to me?’ ken73: ‘Would you like to hear my voice?’

Your heart leapt into your throat. His directness really grabbed you, for whatever reason.

sweetcinna: ‘yes, but i understand if you find that odd! i was just talking’ ken73: ‘No, I would like that very much. Take some time to think about it and let me know.’

Your heart was pounding.

…

You stared at your phone nervously. You had thought about it, probably too many times, before confirming that you wanted to do a phone call with Ken. You’d picked a day and the time had flown by.

ken73: ‘I’m running a bit late, but I will be home very soon.’ sweetcinna: ‘no rush!’

You decided to pour yourself a glass of wine while you waited. It wasn’t excessive, but the little bit of alcohol helped to ease your nerves.

ken73: ‘I am home. Here’s my number for you to call.’

You dialed and listened to the ring tone, full of excitement and anxiety. It rang just twice before he picked up.

“Hello, this is Ken.”

“Hi,” you did your best to keep your voice level. “How are you?”

“I’m good now, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“It was good,” you thought for a moment, “Work was not too eventful and now I get to talk to you!”

Kento smiled. He was incredibly pleased that you had agreed to a phone call. It was one thing to listen to your audios, but getting to interact with you in a more live fashion thrilled him.

“You have a nice voice, Ken,” you observed, interjecting into his thoughts.

“Ah, thank you,” he found himself flushing and chuckling at your words.

“You have a nice laugh too,” you pressed. You found yourself wanting to hear it again.

“You’re very complimentary, aren’t you?”

“Only when I have reason to be,” you shrugged.

“Consider me flattered,” Kento loosened his tie.

“Are you getting undressed?” you asked, hearing the rustling of fabric on his end.

“Not quite,” Nanami let out a hearty laugh. “Just loosening my tie.”

“Ah,” you nodded, “The tie that you’d like to tie me up with?” you flirted shamelessly.

Nanami tensed at your direct suggestion. Minx.

“I think you deserve it, don’t you?” his voice got lower somehow.

You let out a nervous, airy giggle. His voice was so attractive.

“Answer me,” he insisted.

“Please Ken,” you bit your lower lip and squirmed.

“That’s a good girl,” he exhaled, palming himself through his zipper.

“Your good girl,” you corrected him and you were rewarded with a soft growl.

A streak of possessiveness ran through him.

“That’s right, isn’t it?” he mused, “I’m the one who gets to enjoy you like this, aren’t I?”

“Uh huh,” you giggled. It was true after all, he was the first and only subscriber of yours to cross over into something more.

“My good girl,” he groaned and you purred in response.

“Are you hard?” you asked, hand snaking down to tease your inner thighs.

“Very,” he chuckled.

“Wish I could see,” you pouted.

Kento was struck with the sudden realization that he was more than willing to show you. In lieu of that, for now, he could try and paint you a word picture.

“Greedy girl,” he teased, “You’d love to feast your eyes on my cock, straining in my pants just from listening to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you exhaled breathily, “Would want to feel it, rub my face on it, and then ask you if I could take it out.”

“So polite,” he leaned his head back. “Polite little thing.”

“Sir, may I touch myself?” you asked.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he clicked his tongue, he wanted to tease you a little bit longer.

You let out a whine of disappointment that was music to his ears. You were so expressive and he loved that he was wrenching these sounds out of you.

“You’re going to get on your knees and watch me play with myself,” he decided.

You pouted, even though he couldn’t see you. Your cunt clenched at the thought. The denial was frustratingly arousing.

“Yes, sir,” you answered him, shifting to your knees.

“God you have me aching,” he exhaled shakily as he undid his pants and pulled himself out. His cock was heavy and thick in his hand.

“Would you describe it to me?”

“Naughty girl,” he grinned, “It’s decent sized,” he considered himself. “Six or seven inches with a wide, bulbous head. Veiny and,” he circled his fingers around the shaft, “Fairly thick.”

“Oh fuck,” you sighed contentedly, “You have a pretty cock.”

“Pretty cock for my pretty girl,” he chuckled at your description.

Your thighs squeezed together at his praise. You so desperately wanted to touch yourself…do something to relieve the throbbing ache between them.

“How long do I have to wait?” you squirmed, the crotch of your panties pressing against your clit torturously.

“Go ahead, baby,” Kento relented, “I know you’re not good at being patient.”

You flushed at the soft dig, but thanked him anyway and reached down to rub your aching slit.

“If you were here, I would have you suck my cock while you waited, but alas…,” his rich voice filled your ears and your toes curled.

“I would love that,” you breathed, “I would love to taste you. Feel that beautiful cock on my tongue,” you moaned wantonly.

Ken groaned as you described how you would lick and suck his raging erection. Nibble your lips along the underside, suckle at the bulbous tip, and swallow him down until you gagged on him. He felt like he could burst.

“Get me nice and hard with your pretty mouth,” he sighed, his chest heaving as he stroked himself to your pace. “So you can sit on it.”

You purred excitedly at this thought.

“May I?” you sat up, wanting to grab a toy.

“I think you must,” he chuckled.

You grabbed a dildo with a suction cup at the base and stuck it to the ground. You kneeled and positioned the head at your entrance before lowering yourself slowly.

“Oh fuck!” you whined at the pleasurable stretch. “Ken, fuck…”

Kento’s balls tighten when you moaned for him. He filled in the second syllable of his name in his mind as his hips bucked of their own accord. God, you made him want to bully his cock deep inside of you.

“So good, baby,” he groaned through gritted teeth, “So good taking it for me.”

You whined, bouncing your hips lower and lower on the dildo. Your nipples tightened as you approached orgasm.

“Hng, Daddy, can I cum?” you pleaded without thinking, desperate and wanton.

Kento’s body betrayed him.

“Yes, fuck!” he managed to answer before he came violently. His abs contracted forcefully as he shot ropes of cum onto himself. Your sounds of orgasm melted into his as you both reached your highs together.

“You came?” you asked after catching your breath.

“Yes,” Kento answered, his body slumped down in his chair.

“I should’ve asked you about the ‘daddy’ thing first,” you realized suddenly, “I’m sorry if I caught you off guard with that.”

“It…,” Kento paused. As loathe as he was about admitting it, he felt like he could with you. “I don’t…hate it.”

“But do you like it?” you insisted.

“...yes,” he finally answered.

“Okay good,” you exhaled with relief.

“Do you have other plans this evening?” he asked after a small gap of time.

“No, not tonight. Later in the week I need to get groceries, but nothing today. Do you?”

“Luckily no. Will take care of a few things around my apartment. Cook dinner.”

“Ah, do you enjoy cooking?”

“I do,” Kento nodded. It was a relaxing activity and a welcome reprieve from his job, which was filled with insanity.

“Me too. When I have time, I love to bake.”

“Ah, is that so?” Kento’s ears perked up. He loved baked goods. “What do you like to bake?”

“Oh almost anything,” you settled into your pillows. “Bread if I’m feeling ambitious. Muffins or something else if I’m short on time.”

“Cinnamon roll indeed,” Ken remarked with a chuckle.

A soft warmth flushed through you. Considering that Ken was a technical stranger, it was incredibly comfortable being on the phone with him. Maybe this was how your subscribers felt about you despite knowing very little. It was interesting to be on this end of a parasocial relationship.

…

You looked up from your pot of soup when you heard the buzzer for your front door. Takuma must be here! You let him in and then went to set the table. As usual you had cooked too much food, but you intended for him to pack most of it away anyways.

You answered the door and were surprised when your eyes landed on a tall, blonde stranger.

“Oh…, hello?”

“Hey sis!” Takuma greeted you from behind the stranger with a wide smile. “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Nanami-san!”

Nanami wished a hole would open up in the ground underneath him. It wasn’t like Ino had railroaded him into joining for dinner, but he had insisted quite adamantly and caught Nanami in a moment of weakness.

“Ah? Ah!” as the name finally triggered recognition and you bowed politely. “Nanami-san, wonderful to meet you! Please come in!”

“I-,” Nanami paused, “Ino, I thought-,” he turned to the younger man with a stern look on his face. Ino hadn’t been quite clear about the invitation, but you clearly hadn’t been expecting Nanami.

“Please, Nanami-san,” you insisted, a soft smile on your face. “I have been wanting to thank you for taking such good care of my younger brother. I would love it if you joined us for dinner.”

Nanami found his cheeks growing warm at your genuine smile. Your eyes were locked directly on his and he found himself struck by your appearance. He noted some subtle similarities to Ino, but mostly he was reeling from how pretty you were. Preparations must’ve still been underway as you were wearing a scallop-edged apron that was tied back in a way that emphasized your shape.

“Ah, thank you,” he bowed before stepping through the doorway.

Takuma helped hang up Nanami’s jacket and leather harness while you added another place setting to the table. You ladeled out three bowls of miso soup and brought them to the table with the other dishes that were already laid out.

“Itadakimasu!” Takuma beamed at you before digging right in.

“Tch, impatient,” you clicked your tongue at him with a fond smile.

“Itadakimasu,” Nanami bowed his head at you as well before picking up his soup spoon. “This looks and smells wonderful.”

“Hopefully it tastes good too,” you winked at him.

“YN is a good cook,” Ino remarked to his mentor.

Nanami’s eyes widened after a few bites. It was delicious.

“This is wonderful,” he complimented you genuinely.

“Thank you,” you grew a little under his heavy stare. He was so serious. “Ah, I forgot!” you stood suddenly, “Would you like anything to drink other than tea?”

“Nanami likes whiskey,” your brother answered helpfully.

“No, you don’t have to,” Nanami put his hands up in protest.

“Ice? No ice?” you asked, ignoring his niceties.

“One ice cube,” he relented and you nodded.

“Let me play house for you, Nanami-san,” you grinned playfully at him when you returned with the glass. “It’s in my nature as an older sister, after all.”

Kento blinked at your teasing. There was something familiar about it. His eyes were glued to you as you untied the apron and hung it on a hook.

“Well, tell me about yourself, Nanami-san!” you demand cheekily as you started in on the food as well. “Considering how many times Takuma has mentioned you, I don’t think I actually know anything about you!”

“Of course,” the tall gentleman nodded, “Nanami Kento. I am twenty-eight years old working as a Grade 1 jujutsu sorcerer.”

You chuckled at his formal introduction.

“Ino YN,” you returned the introduction. “Working as a personal assistant at the Tokyo courthouse. Very nice to meet you.

Nanami found himself smiling at you. You were obviously teasing, but he found that he didn’t dislike it…at all.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked of Takuma as you also started eating.

Without fail, your younger brother launched into enthusiastic storytelling, which allowed you to observe both him and his mentor. Nanami’s blue shirt pulled taut across his shoulders. He wore a spotted tie, which seemed to be in contrast to the rest of his stern appearance. You smiled…it was a nice touch. His hair was parted sharply and his face was full of similar lines and planes, but he was handsome nonetheless.

Nanami looked up during your observation and caught your eye. He was watching you too. Particularly he found himself fixated on your chin and mouth. He felt crazy for even thinking it, but you reminded him of SweetCinna. He even felt that your voice was similar, but perhaps he just found himself attracted and projecting.

“How was your day?” Takuma’s voice cut through the tension. He glanced between you and Nanami and then grinned.

“It was good,” you smiled. “I did some reading in the morning before getting groceries and cooking for dinner.”

“What are you reading?” Nanami asked.

“Land of Milk and Honey by C Pam Zhang. It’s…,” you thought for a moment about how to describe the work. “Interesting. It’s near future dystopian, lots of references and imagery around food.”

“Interesting,” Nanami’s eyebrows raised. “How are you finding it?”

“Hm,” you looked at him head on. “I’m not quite far enough yet to have a strong opinion.”

Nanami nodded. That certainly made sense.

“Do you enjoy reading? I’d be happy to lend it to you when I’m finished.”

“I do,” he nodded, some of the tension seeming to leave his shoulders. “It’s probably my main source of leisure these days.”

“Ah! Me too,” you beamed at him with delight. Nanami smiled at you and your breath caught. There was something satisfying about seeing his stern facade drop.

Takuma look on at your interaction with Nanami, over the moon. This wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d extended the invitation, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“How can I help?” Nanami asked once everyone had had their fill.

“Help me bring the dishes to the sink?”

He nodded and started stacking empty plates and bowls together. You put your apron and gloves back on and placed everything into the sink.

“Shall I dry?”

“That’s not necessary!” you shook your head, chuckle when the image of Nanami in your apron and gloves popped into your head.

“There’s nothing I can do to help?”

“Oh, actually,” a thought did pop into your head. “Can you help me tie my hair up?” you gestured to the hair tie that was laying on the counter.

Nanami blinked at the request, but nodded, grabbing the elastic. His fingertips brushed along your scalp as he gathered your hair into a bundle. He struggled a bit, but managed to get most of it tied up in the band. You’d tried to bite it back, but Nanami had heard what sounded like a soft purr when he’d tugged a little too hard.

He really felt like he’d heard that before.

…

Nanami tapped his foot impatiently on the train. It had to be you, right?

After the meal with you, he’d tried to put things out of his mind unsuccessfully. The thought of you being SweetCinna had nagged and nagged at him until he’d finally relented and gone over your audio collection with a fine toothed comb. He’d listened and listened to your honeyed voice, painfully hard, until he’d found a clip that made things fall into place.

‘tch, i’m not a brat!’

The click of your tongue had been so similar to your admonishment of your brother.

As he continued to wonder whether he was valid or crazy, his phone chimed with a notification.

sweetcinna: ‘any chance you’re free?’ ken73: ‘I am actually. Anything the matter?’ sweetcinna: ‘no? does something have to be the matter for us to talk?’ ken73: ‘No not at all, angel. I just wasn’t sure if it was a one-off last time.’

You regarded your phone with a look. You supposed that was a fair assumption, but after your slip up with Nanami’s hand in your hair you’d found yourself with an excess of sexual tension that you wanted to work out…with Ken.

sweetcinna: ‘would you be interested in chatting on the phone again?’ ken73: ‘Of course. Give me a few minutes and I’ll let you know when you can call.’

“Hello!” you greeted him sunnily.

“Hi angel,” he smiled at the sound of your voice.

“How are you?”

“Very good,” he nodded.

“Very good?” you laughed, “And why’s that?”

Kento paused before answering in a way that wouldn’t give himself up quite yet.

“It was just a good day,” he shrugged. “How about you? How was your day?”

“It was actually quite good as well,” you answered honestly, “I had dinner with my younger brother and that was a lot of fun.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yes!” beamed as you recalled the meal. “He actually invited a colleague of his who I’d never met before. He talks about him often, so it was nice to meet the gentleman.”

“It must’ve been a bit of a surprise then?” Kento asked.

“It was, but not in a bad way,” you shook your head, “He was quite handsome,” you giggled as you thought of Nanami’s tall, broad form again.

Kento was almost jealous for a moment before he remembered that you were actually referring to him.

“Is that so?” he raised an eyebrow, feigning jealous anyways.

“Quite,” you answered honestly. “Are you jealous?” you asked, catching the slight edge in his voice.

“Should I be?”

“I don’t think so,” you answered giddily, “I probably won’t see him again. And it’s not like he’s made me cum just with his voice, right?”

Kento let out a sharp laugh. You were quite skilled at flattery.

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement, “And is that why you called? So I can remind my slutty little princess just how hard I make you cum?”

“Maybe…”

“Ask me for it, pretty girl,” Ken’s voice was low and thick in your ear.

“Hng…Ken, please,” you relented with a soft whine.

Kento squeezed his eyes shut at this noise. You were so alluring. He would have to tell you…he wanted to tell you, but for now he needed to hear you cum, fall apart for him and only him.

“Very good girl,” he hummed, pleased.

You squirmed. It was ridiculous how so few words could have you clenching for him. Your nipples were pebbled through your thin shirt and you brushed your fingertips over them with a soft hiss.

“Tell me what you’re doing,” he demanded, palming himself through the front of the sweatpants that he had changed into.

“My nipples,” you panted, “Teasing them, through my shirt.”

“Imagine, my tongue on them. Lapping with my tongue wide and flat and then teasing with the tip, getting the fabric damp and wet so that when I blow on it, it grows cool.”

“Oh fuck!” you arched instinctively, images of Nanami popping into your mind. His mouth working at your puckered nipples as Ken described.

“Make a pretty wet spot to match the one that I know is on your panties.”

“Ken!” your chest heaved with ragged breaths.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

“I need,” you squirmed, “I need…something.”

“Have you been waiting for me?” Kento asked, slightly fuzzy in the chest at your obedience, despite your obvious desire.

“Yes,” you nodded, “I'm being good, I swear.”

“Can you wait for me just a bit longer? I’d like to take my time tonight.”

Kento heard you nod and he imagined the breathless expression on your face, this time in full clarity. God, he wanted you. To push your knees apart. To tie your wrists together above your head. To feast on you until he'd had his fill.

“Fuck,” he threw his head back and groaned. He hadn't thought it was impossible, but his cock was harder knowing who you were and that you were potentially in reach.

Your toes curled as you pulled your knees to your chest. Your cunt was aching and dripping at Ken’s rough, deep voice and you wished he were there to bury himself inside of you and fuck you within an inch of consciousness. You wished to be drooling and mindless, stuffed full of his fat erection.

“Daddy please, I can't wait anymore,” you cried.

Kento growled at the moniker.

“Go ahead, baby,” he coaxed you. “Go ahead and touch that pretty pussy for me. I know you need it.”

“Thank you thank you thank you,” you murmured as your fingers stroked over your soaked lips. “Fuck I'm so wet,” you giggled, relaxing with relief.

“God I want to taste you,” Kento moaned. “Eat you until it's dripping down my chin. Until you're crying.”

“Fuck! I’m gonna,” you choked at his fervent words, “Can I? Please?”

Nanami’s vision went red. So. Fucking. Polite.

“Cum for Daddy,” he coaxed.

Your body jerked. Hearing him refer to himself that way triggered a deep and primal response in you that had you crying out for him as you snapped.

Nanami’s pupils dilated as he listened to you come apart. You were so loud, so clear, so gorgeous…for him.

“Beautiful,” his voice was almost like a whisper now.

“You haven't cum yet?”

“No, not yet.”

His self control was really something else.

“Good, because I need you to cum in my pussy,” you declared.

Kento’s eyebrows raised. Little brat.

“Oh is that so? How do you figure that?”

“Because I'm you're good little slut,” you insisted. “Don't you want to fill me up?”

Kento barked out a laugh that sent a thrill down your spine. He wanted to grab a fistful of your hair and pull you to eye level with him.

“Babygirl. Listen to me carefully now,” his voice was hard, “I will cum where I want, when I want, and you will be happy with it.”

You melted audibly into your bed with a fluttery sigh and Kento smirked. You were perfect.

“You're lucky I'm in the mood to pump you full of my cum tonight,” he remarked and you felt yourself gush again.

“Please,” you nodded. You felt like you were floating. “I need you to fuck your cum into me with that fat cock, please!”

Kento grunted, hips bucking up into his fist. The dark, swollen head disappeared and reappeared repeatedly between his thumb and pointer finger as his hip flexors worked.

“Kento,” your tongue slipped as you ground your clit against the heel of your palm. “I'm co-oming!” your breath hitched in your throat as you did.

“Hah,” his panting was throaty. He tensed at the sound of your second orgasm and the mental image of being balls deep inside of you pushed him over the edge with you.

You listened to each other breathe as your minds returned to your bodies.

“Did that scratch your itch?” Kento finally asked, a content smile on his lips.

“Very much so,” you nodded, eyelids growing heavy with relaxation.

“You should sleep,” he murmured after hearing a yawn.

“Goodnight, Ken,” you muttered.

“Goodnight, YN,” he whispered after ending the call.

…

You checked your wristwatch again. The train was more than a few minutes late today. It had been a reasonable day at the courthouse, but you were ready to go home.

Eventually, the train car doors slid open with a squeak and you stepped inside. Glancing around, you were surprised when you saw a now-familiar silhouette.

“Nanami-san!” you found yourself moving towards him.

“A-ah, Ino-san,” he greeted you with a surprised expression.

“Nice to see you again. Are you headed home?”

Nanami nodded and you reached up to grab a handhold as the train pulled out of the station. The car jerked slightly and you stumbled, hand wrapping around Nanami’s flexed bicep instead.

“Shoot!” you squeaked as you tried to steady yourself. You almost jumped out of your skin when a warm hand met the small of your back, helping you regain your balance. “I’m sorry,” you turned away, slightly mortified.

“Quite alright,” Kento found himself pleased at your self-consciousness. His hand was splayed across your back and he let it linger for a moment or two longer than necessary. “How was your day?”

“It was a little busy, but not bad,” you looked up at him. “And yours?”

“It was a fair day. Did some training with students. Have you gotten any further in your book?”

“Oh I have!” your face lit up and you turned to face him. “It’s quite interesting. The language is very beautiful.”

“Hmm,” Kento nodded and you shared more of the plot and your opinions on the work.

“Oh, my stop is next,” you interjected with realization. You turned to him with a look in your eye that was almost regretful.

“May I walk you back?” Kento found himself asking. “I’m enjoying this conversation.”

“A-ah, of course!” you nodded. Heat prickling up the back of your neck.

Nanami fell into step with you as you led the way to your apartment. You found yourself truly enjoying his company so you took a few scenic options.

“Has Ino ever shared much about his special technique with you?” Kento asked.

“No,” you shook your head. “And I suppose I’ve never asked.”

“I see.” Nanami nodded. He inhaled deeply, now was as good a time as any. “There are a wide variety of techniques. One of mine involves creating weak points at a set ratio of 7:3. Some refer to me as the 7:3 Sorcerer.”

You stilled for a moment. 7:3? Nanami Kento, the 7:3 Sorcerer?

You heard an almost comical screeching sound in your mind as the pieces puzzled themselves together. Could Nanami be ken73? Surely that would be too coincidental.

Nanami had kept walking, so you found yourself several paces behind him when you snapped out of your thoughts. You jogged lightly to catch up, shooting him a furtive glance as you did so. You certainly wouldn’t mind it if he was. Imagining all of the phone calls that you’d had, those words coming out of Nanami’s mouth, had a fiery heat building steadily in your belly.

You were rendered quiet until you reached your building. You paused at the sidewalk and tried to keep your face straight as you bowed politely.

“Thank you for walking me back. I enjoyed our conversation today.”

“Likewise,” Nanami nodded. He looked you over from head to toe. You were doing a remarkably good job of staying composed, so he was not sure whether you had picked up on his clues or not. As you turned to enter your building, one last thought entered into his mind.

“YN…are you a fan of cinnamon rolls, by chance?”

Your mask fell. Your mouth fell into a circle and you turned to face Nanami again, eyes searching. He had taken his glasses off and his gaze bore into you, heavy and hot.

“Ken?” you murmured in disbelief.

His lips curled into a smile and relief curled through his chest.

“How?” you shook your head as he stepped towards you.

“I’ve been subscribed to you for years, remember? It is so surprising that I could identify your voice?” his eyes flicked over your face. “Plus you are an insufferable tease in real life too.”

You felt like there was steam coming off the top of your head. You had wondered in the past what it might feel like to be discovered, but it was always more doomsday-y than this. Having Kento find out felt more like relief and nervous excitement. You wondered what he was thinking.

“I am wildly attracted to you, both physically and mentally, but I don’t want to presume anything on your end because I understand that our virtual connection was also your job.”

“You’re not,” you answered honestly. “I-, it was meaningful to me too.”

Kento nodded.

“May I take you out on a date?”

“You don’t think we could skip that?” you reached for his tie playfully.

“I don’t-,” Kento’s mind stuttered at your touch. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea by doing things out of order.”

Your chest squeezed. He was so proper…until he wasn’t.

“Can’t you make an exception for me?” you cooed, running your hands along his lapels.

His hands clutched your wrists and stilled them. There was a tick in his jaw that hadn’t been there before.

“If I tell you no, would you be a good girl for me and wait?”

“Yes,” you sighed, relishing the pressure of his strong grip.

“Good girl. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner, then,” he decided and then stepped back. Almost as an afterthought he added, “And don’t even think about touching yourself before then.”

You almost let out an anguished wail at this. He was going to make you wait to have him. And you would.

…

You were vibrating with anticipation when Kento picked you up. The night passed torturously slowly with soft grazes of his knuckles against your calves, his fingertips trailing across your hips and lower back, and his warm breath curling around the shell of your ear when he spoke.

Nanami had watched proudly as you had held back shivers and bit down moans as he’d teased you through the evening. He couldn’t get enough of touching you. Watching you barely hold it together, just for him. Keeping up his gentleman’s facade he walked you to your front door, kissed your knuckles and then moved to leave.

“Kento, please,” you begged softly, looping your arm around his torso and resting your forehead against his back. “I need you,” you whispered, voice growing frayed as your sanity unwound.

Kento swept you up into his arms and pressed a kiss to your temple. You grabbed him by the necktie and pulled him into a ravenous kiss as he backed you into your apartment. Your hands pushed the suit jacket off of his shoulders and explored his broad form. For a moment Kento was caught off guard by the ferocity of your kisses, but he adjusted quickly.

“Shall I put on the apron?” you teased, lips brushing against his. The groan he let out was well worth it.

“Later,” he pressed you down onto the bed and grasped you by the ankles.

He pressed a kiss against your left ankle before he set them on his shoulders. His hands traced down your calves and pushed your skirt up over your plush thighs. It was like unwrapping a present. He found himself kneeling until your legs were hooked over his shoulders and his face was buried against your quivering, needy cunt. You had leaked completely through your panties through the course of the date and your inner thighs were slick with shine.

“All for me, princess?” he teased, before diving in. He dragged his nose along your core and kissed you languidly through the fabric. The noises were so wet and gushy, music to his ears.

“Kento,” you arched up against him, desperate for more. “Please fuck me,” you begged, the words coming out in wet, hot little pants. “You can torture me later, take your time later, but please I need you to fuck me right now!”

Kento smirked against your pussy. He had really done a number on you.

“Since you asked nicely,” he relented, peeling off his disheveled clothes. Your eyes feasted on him as he pulled off your panties and set your ankles back on his shoulders. His pupils dilated as he watched your juices coat his fat tip. His eyes rolled back as his cock slipped past your impossibly tight lips with a ‘pop’.

“God you are fucking tight, princess,” he marveled as he rocked into you. “Your pussy is gripping me.”

“Kento, more.”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to your calf again before he stroked himself deeply into you. You let out an embarrassing noise as he filled you up. Your eyes rolled back and your hips canted to meet his thrusts. Wet sounds of him burying himself into you mingled with wet pants and low groans. A coil tightened in the pit of your belly.

“I’m,” you gasp punctured the air, “I’m close.”

He nodded, keeping up his pace as you clenched around him.

“Are you?” your wild eyes sought his out, “Together?”

Kento’s eyes widened as his stomach clenched at your breathless request. Together. Yes, he wanted that too.

“A little more,” he answered, “Hold on for me.”

You nodded furiously, stifling your orgasm as Kento rutted himself deep inside of you. His cock stroked deep and thick inside of you until he tensed.

“Now, princess!” he whined, his hips stuttering as his cock twitched deep inside of you. His heavy balls shot ropes of cum into you until his body sagged atop yours.

You pulled him close and pressed kisses across his jaw and over his nose while he recovered. He grew shy at this peppering of affection, which only served to endear you to him more.

“Shall we change my nickname to cream pie instead of cinnamon roll?” you giggled, brushing some hair out of Kento’s eyes.

Kento started laughing so hard that his shoulders shook. You wrapped your arms around them and basked in the sounds of his joy.

#nanami smut #nanami kento #nanami fanfic #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #serrated writing

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bon2bonn · 6 months

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This City

2022!F1 grid X female!driver!reader

Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Max Verstappen, Carlos Sainz, Charles leclerc X female!driver!reader.

Words count : 1.2k

*the song belongs to : Sam fisherr , and the version I chose features Anne Marie , it's one of my favourites, and in a way it reflects how the female!driver felt through her 22 season and I saw that it fits with both Charles struggles with Ferrari through 23 , and Danny's through his journey after red bull till he went back in 23 , so I hope you enjoy it ✨. If you have anything to say, add or thoughts on this au! share let me know .

*First side/extra chapter of Weathering Your Storm au! (WYS) ✨

Lando sat back as he returned from refilling his drink for the second time that evening , the chatter of his friends going around him as they conversed and joked with eachother , not long ago they had dinner , all of those who could attend argued on who'll do the dishes and he unfortunately lost the rock paper scissors to both Daniel and Max, along with Charles who lost to Carlos and y/n . Both of them grumpled under their breath as y/n (the host for the night) teased them about breaking her dishes .

Their monthly dinner started off as a spontaneous get-together but extended to turn into an ongoing tradition , everyone took turn to host it once a month for whoever is available to attend , hosting or going out in lando's case (he almost burned his house down, twice) except for Christmas where it's almost mandatory to attend the end of year dinner .

This month it's y/n's turn and she did not disappoint, a decent homemade meal along with desert's and everyone's favourite drink of choice . now they scattered around catching up on what's everyone is up to , Carlos and Charles along with Max, Daniel and himself were the ones who stayed back as Seb , Lewis , Mick ,Lance , Pierre and yuki left earlier all having flights to catch the next day , but the rest opting to stay and enjoy the rest of the night night .

After few drinks Charles took a seat at her Grande piano, playing some tunes but still engaged in a conversation with Max and Carlos , arguing while they both shook their heads in denial, Daniel had his guitar (that he always leave at her place and she'd always jokingly say that she'd sell it to a junk yard if he keeps on leaving it behind) strumming it mindlessly as he and y/n who sat next to him with her feet kicked up on the table before them were talking about something that Danny nods at , his eyes are focused on her as she went on explaining before turning to Charles who started off a new tune getting his attention along with the others as he called "I know this song" before humming for a moment then strumming the stings following up the tune Charles started .

He turned to y/n who started humming along to the music stopping to nudge her to sing along "com'on , it's one of your favourites " , she shook her head " I can't sing to save my life" he gave her an eye roll scoffing as he say " you keep saying that but we all know that not true , and anyone who can sing better than lando is a great singer " earning a cushion to the head from the offended driver as everyone around fell into a fit of laughter agreeing to Daniel statement , but also ushering their friends to sing . As she finally obliged they restarted from the top . Lando took it as a chance to set his phone on one of the shelves adjusting the angle to get everyone in the frame " I'll send it to the group chat later" before sitting down .

Daniel started the first verse softly :

"I've been seeing lonely people in crowded rooms

Covering the old heart breaks with new tattoos

It's all about small screens and cigarettes

Looking through low lights at silhouettes

But all I see is lonely people in crowded rooms"

Nodding at her to start the chorus along with him :

" This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong ?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart"

Letting her carry on with the second verse :

"Monday through Friday I don't do so well

I wanna call you but I stop myself

And you're the only one I wanna run to , yeah

Cause I've been drinking lately , so I forget

Wondering what this place will give me next

Cause all I see are lonely people with broken hearts"

This time Charles joined in the chorus all three sang in harmony :

" oh This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong ?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart".

Her and Daniel joined together in the third verse :

" She's got a hold on me

I got a hold on you

She got me wrapped round her fingers

Yeah, yeah , yeah

She got a hold on me

I got a hold on you

She got me wrapped round her fingers".

She hit every high note with ease as everyone joined them in singing the last chorus :

"This city is gonna break my heart

This city is gonna love me then leave me alone

This city is got me chasing stars

It's been a couple months since I felt like I'm home

Am I getting closer to knowing where I belong?

This city is gonna break my heart

She's always gonna break your heart

I didn't mean to break your Heart"

Letting Danny strum the last note before adding softly:

"I didn't mean to break it ".

They all applaused at the end whooping and whistling as she joined them before covering her face as they turned to her with compliments and praise , groaning into her hands as lando passed her to grab his phone back .

Danny nudged her with a playful smile " if racing didn't turn out well , we could flip a coin and start a band , what do you say ?" she shoved him away "like hell I'd let anyone hear me sing in public!" Then turning to lando who looked like he saw a ghost tilting her head in question" what's wrong?" For him to look at her with guilt then showing her his screen that displayed an Insta live going with her own face now looking back at her , with comments flooding the side of the screen , frowning for a second trying to process what occurred before snapping her head to lando in disbelief , the rest came to take a look in curiousity all fitting in frame as comments rolled up before turning to lando who backed up in attempt to flee the scene .

The screen shook before it changed to Carlos holding the phone along with Max both trying to shut the live down (more like them reading comments and greeting fans instead) , lando is seen screaming for his life in the background where he got tackled by y/n on his way to the door , Danny and Charles trying to prey her off his back .

Max turned to them after reading some comments a hand on his hip as he called aloud over lando's screaming "y/n! Seb said You can't kill him , the live is still on! " Carlos added a second after "Fernando said do it" turning back to the screen right before it's turned off.

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postpunkindustrial · 9 months

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Pink Noises: Women on Electronic Music and Sound by Tara Rodgers

Get it from my Google Drive HERE

Pink Noises brings together twenty-four interviews with women in electronic music and sound cultures, including club and radio DJs, remixers, composers, improvisers, instrument builders, and installation and performance artists. The collection is an extension of Pinknoises.com, the critically-acclaimed website founded by musician and scholar Tara Rodgers in 2000 to promote women in electronic music and make information about music production more accessible to women and girls. That site featured interviews that Rodgers conducted with women artists, exploring their personal histories, their creative methods, and the roles of gender in their work. This book offers new and lengthier interviews, a critical introduction, and resources for further research and technological engagement.

Contemporary electronic music practices are illuminated through the stories of women artists of different generations and cultural backgrounds. They include the creators of ambient soundscapes, “performance novels,” sound sculptures, and custom software, as well as the developer of the Deep Listening philosophy and the founders of the Liquid Sound Lounge radio show and the monthly Basement Bhangra parties in New York. These and many other artists open up about topics such as their conflicted relationships to formal music training and mainstream media representations of women in electronic music. They discuss using sound to work creatively with structures of time and space, and voice and language; challenge distinctions of nature and culture; question norms of technological practice; and balance their needs for productive solitude with collaboration and community. Whether designing and building modular synthesizers with analog circuits or performing with a wearable apparatus that translates muscle movements into electronic sound, these artists expand notions of who and what counts in matters of invention, production, and noisemaking. Pink Noises is a powerful testimony to the presence and vitality of women in electronic music cultures, and to the relevance of sound to feminist concerns.

Interviewees: Maria Chavez, Beth Coleman (M. Singe), Antye Greie (AGF), Jeannie Hopper, Bevin Kelley (Blevin Blectum), Christina Kubisch, Le Tigre, Annea Lockwood, Giulia Loli (DJ Mutamassik), Rekha Malhotra (DJ Rekha), Riz Maslen (Neotropic), Kaffe Matthews, Susan Morabito, Ikue Mori, Pauline Oliveros, Pamela Z, Chantal Passamonte (Mira Calix), Maggi Payne, Eliane Radigue, Jessica Rylan, Carla Scaletti, Laetitia Sonami, Bev Stanton (Arthur Loves Plastic), Keiko Uenishi (o.blaat)

#book #tara rodgers #annea lockwood #pamela z #le tigre #ikue mori #Pauline Oliveros #Pink Noises: Women on Electronic Music and Sound

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jkabbi · 4 months

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bewitched | chapter 02

╰┈➤summary: Former neighbors turned lovers, your enchanting romance with Jungkook takes a magical turn. A spell to protect him shapes your past, and now, as a flower shop owner, an unexpected reunion brings buried secrets to light. Past and present collide in a captivating tale of love and mystery.

╰┈➤pairing: jungkook x reader (f)

╰┈➤genre: cf2l, fluff, angst, magic au

╰┈➤warnings: cursing, salem (deserves his own warning)

word count. 10.9 k

╰┈➤note; we are already in the second chapter! i am very grateful for the support you have given me and to all the people who have decided to give my story a chance <3 i hope u guys enjoy this

prev | series masterlist | next

Despite the passage of three days since your rather embarrassing encounter with Jungkook, little had deviated from your usual routine.

Happy for your mental health, you haven't encountered him unexpectedly on the street or elsewhere again.

Presently, you found yourself engaged in the familiar task of cleaning your home, punctuating the process with the addition of protective spells – a regular practice that brought you a sense of security.

Engaging in thorough cleaning bi-monthly, your diligence stemmed from a subtle paranoia, fueled by the looming threat of an old adversary with formidable abilities. Despite the intricacies of this routine, the current impetus for your meticulous cleansing arises from an underlying fatigue that has settled in recently.

As you meticulously attended to your chores, Salem lounged indifferently by the window, his attention fixed on the world outside.

“You do realize those cat paws of yours could lend a helping hand – or paw – with the cleaning, right?” you chided, irritation evident in your voice.

Ignoring your remark, Salem continued gazing out the window, uninterested in your domestic concerns. Frustrated, you used your magic to make the window fly open with a simple touch of your fingers.

“Hey!” Salem protested, his discontent palpable.

Now it was your turn to dismiss him. After tending to the cleaning, you sank wearily into the armchair next to the window, grateful for the modest size of your apartment.

“Did you know our neighbors moved?” Salem piped up.

“Yes, you mentioned it. Why?” you responded wearily, still staring at the ceiling, exhaustion lingering in your every movement.

“Because there's a moving truck. I guess someone else will occupy the apartment next door,” Salem remarked with a touch of boredom. “I'll miss the dramatic fights of our former neighbors.”

Before you could engage further in Salem's observations, your phone interrupted with its insistent ringing.

Your bestie fired off a text, checking if you were a go for the Wednesday meeting. “Who is it?” your nosy cat chimed in, strolling over. “Just Yoongi,” you mumbled, deep in thought “He’s asking about the Wednesday thing”

“Oh, the social shindig! Are you gracing it with your presence?” Salem asked, eager for the scoop. You tore your gaze from the phone, observing movers weaving outside the apartment like a chaotic ballet. “I'm on the fence,” you confessed. “Feels like a recipe for disaster, doesn't it?”

As your cat claimed dominion over your legs, he vented, “You know what's truly disastrous? Replying 'you too' to a waiter's 'enjoy your meal.' It's like living in a cringe-worthy sitcom moment in real life.”

Salem, seemingly unfazed, played with dust bubbles, offering a quip as if participating in a cosmic comedy.

Frustration building, you sighed, “Can we be serious here? This is more significant than a sitcom faux pas.” Salem, with an innocent look, glanced up, feigning detachment.

“Why are you upset? It's happened to me countless times! It's embarrassing,” Salem retorted casually.

“I'd rather repeat that to a waitress a thousand times than risk losing my dignity to Jungkook's charming white commercial smile!” you exclaimed passionately.

Salem, raising a dismissive paw, sought to diminish your sentiment, “Don't think you're special; it happens to everyone. It's just a barbecue among friends. What's the worst that can happen?”

Annoyance etched on your face, you retorted, “What's the worst? You know exactly what could happen. I can't risk the spell being broken.”

Salem, nonchalantly, replied, “Bah, if the spell breaks, put it back on. Simple.”

Your gaze, sharp as daggers, could have sent Salem six feet under. “It's not that simple, and you know it. Playing with someone's mind is risky business."Blah, blah, blah,” Salem replied with an air of boredom. “You humans care so much about rules and consequences.”

Your eyebrow arched in curiosity, “Maybe that's why we're not punished and made to look like a ball of hair for eternity.”

A playful smirk danced on your lips as you sensed you might have struck a nerve with the proud feline.

Before you could engage in a verbal sparring match with your fur-covered companion, a peculiar sight outside the window seized your attention.

Through your apartment window, you observed movers delivering high-quality appliances and furniture to your apartment complex.

Perplexed, you couldn't help but wonder: Why would someone affluent willingly choose to move into your less-than-ideal dwelling, plagued by mold, electrical issues, and water problems?

Confused, you and Salem, were equally captivated by the sight unfolding outside your window. “Apparently our neighbors are rich,” Salem mused, settling at the window. “What are they doing in this poor excuse for an apartment?”

Agreeing, you shook your head, still gawking at the street where movers were unloading opulent possessions. Salem, always the dramatist, remarked, “With that television, imagine what my Turkish novel nights would be like?!” His excitement was palpable.

As you continued to watch, your attention was suddenly captured by the arrival of a dreamy bookcase, adorned in dark and elegant wood. Unable to contain your enthusiasm, you exclaimed, “Imagine having that bookcase!”

The absurdity of the situation struck you, and you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a tinge of embarrassment at the spectacle you and your black cat presented to any passersby. A disheveled girl, mouth agape, and her feline companion – not the most polished image.

Salem, ever the provocateur, couldn't resist teasing you about past suitors. “Sometimes I wonder why you didn't marry that Kang boy,” he commented. “If you had, those,” he gestured outside, “would be our belongings.”

Annoyed, you pushed him. “You know damn well why not! The guy was a complete idiot!”

Salem, undeterred, retorted with a swipe of his paws. “He was an idiot, but an idiot with money.”

Rolling your eyes, you crossed your arms. “Oh, come on! As if you don't hate him either! Remember that time he said you were useless because you failed with your plan for world domination?”

Salem's ears perked up, and you seized the opportunity to stoke his anger. “And then he said he could do it better because he was the son of the High Priest of the Church of Night.”

The mention of Kang Hyung, the insufferable figure from your school days, visibly enraged Salem. “That damn brat! I had forgotten what an idiot he was,” Salem exclaimed angrily, displaying his claws. “As if the little shit hadn't failed the final aptitude test against you!”

You smiled, grateful to have Salem as a comrade in your shared disdain for Kang Hyung, the arrogant tormentor who not only made your school life unbearable but also sought to bind you in an unwanted marriage to hinder your progress within the Church of Night.

Chills coursed through your veins, triggering a wave of unpleasant memories and emotions as the recollection of the Church of the Night consumed your thoughts. Salem's observation cut through the internal turmoil, “Now that I think about it, that bastard must have been partying when you left.”

You nonchalantly shrugged your shoulders, masking the deeper complexities of the emotions that stirred within you. Delving into the past wasn't a habit, especially when it involved the social circle you had left behind—the realm where tradition and ancient customs overshadowed individual freedom.

In that stifling environment, your opposition to conformity had been a constant struggle throughout your childhood and adolescence. The battle against a system that restricted your authenticity intensified when your human friend, and eventual boyfriend, became a permanent part of your life. It was like pulling the trigger on an invisible conflict that escalated into a war against your own kind.

Though the notion of dating a human seemed trivial to you, it was forbidden in the eyes of your coven. This strict rule, which you found utterly senseless, triggered a cascade of opposition from your aunts, peers at the academy, and even some magical texts. You couldn't fathom how something as natural as love could be deemed heretical.

Your father's relationship with a human, resulting in your existence, added another layer of irony to the situation. Yet, for the high priest of your coven, your liaison with the human boy disrupted his plans to marry you off to his son, maintaining a supposed line of purity.

The revelation amused you, considering your own mixed blood, with a human mother. The absurdity of their insistence on purity evaporated when you reflected on your father's heritage—a former pastor of the Church of Night, one of the most powerful warlock in recent generations, and the unique mediator between humans and magicians, showcasing the absurdity of their narrow-minded views.

A surge of memories triggered a headache, prompting you to physically shake them loose. It was a conscious effort to purge the lingering thoughts from your mind. The mantra echoed within – your past, a source of mental distress, held no relevance now.

The chapters of your old life, once defining, had lost their grip on your present self. Reminding yourself of this, you cast aside the weight of bygone years. The rules that once constrained you, now faded relics, held no sway in the canvas of your current existence. This deliberate detachment marked a symbolic liberation, a decisive break from the constraints that had defined your past.

The weight of your past choices no longer haunted you too, the passage of time had rendered them irreversible. Over the past decade, you've learned that being overly harsh on yourself hinders personal growth and happiness. This realization became particularly profound when reflecting on decisions driven by love and the instinct to protect those dear to you.

Your inner circle may be small, a deliberate choice. Yet, it doesn't diminish the depth of your commitment to those within it. You've proven time and again that you'd go to great lengths for the sake of your loved ones. This unwavering loyalty has been the guiding force propelling you forward through these ten years of personal evolution and resilience.

Because after all, in the tapestry of devotion, you'd rewrite the stars and reshape your destiny for your loved ones.

Fifteen years ago

The soft radiance from the lamp bathed the room in a gentle glow, casting shadows that danced on Jungkook's superhero sheets, cocooning you in a comforting embrace.

If someone would ask you how home feels like, you would describe this.

The room's door swung open noiselessly, heralding Jungkook's return, cradling a steaming cup of your favorite hot chocolate. He handed it over with a gentle warning about its temperature, and as your fingers brushed his, you felt the stark contrast between his warmth and your cold, trembling ones. With a shy smile, he settled beside you. Gratitude filled your expression, not just for the comforting cup but also for the sparring clothes he had thoughtfully provided, considering your pajamas were smeared with mud and damp.

Despite the impending weight of an awkward conversation, you opted to divert your attention to his window, a bit distant from the bed but offering a serene view of the outside world.

The once-turbulent wind had yielded to a gentle breeze, causing leaves to rustle in the trees. The rain had ceased its rhythmic drumming, and residual droplets now dripped from the roof outside Jungkook's window. Sensing the boy's restlessness, you took in the quietude of the scene.

“Do you feel better?” Jungkook's voice, a melodic whisper, filled the room. A sense of shyness tinged your response as you glanced at him, softly admitting, “Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't want to bother you.”

With an encouraging look, he reassured you, “It's not a bother.”

The intensity of his gaze prompted you to shift your focus to the cup in your hands. “Was it a nightmare?” he inquired slowly, his words a gentle balm as if speaking to a frightened creature. Shaking your head, you kept your gaze fixed on the cup, grappling with the words to convey the complex emotions.

After a brief silence, you found the courage to continue, “It was something akin to a lucid dream. It doesn't happen frequently, but when it does, it's intensely vivid.” Sipping the chocolate, you revealed, “I struggle with sleepwalking problems, and at times, it coincides with these dreams.”

Jungkook maintained a respectful silence, his attentive eyes inviting you to share more. Emboldened by his patience, you felt a surge to elaborate. “It's like a distant memory from the past, but not mine – someone with a profound connection to me. This time, I woke up in the general cemetery. And when I looked around…” A shiver coursed through you, and in response to your fear, Jungkook placed his warm, slightly wounded hand atop yours, offering a reassuring and firm grip.

The room held a hushed atmosphere as you shared the unsettling details of your encounter. “There were some people hanging... from the big tree in the middle,” you said, each word measured. “I think they were women. Then they started saying some things that I couldn't understand, and when I wanted to escape, they surrounded me... trapping me.”

In the shadowed stillness, Jungkook nodded attentively, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and understanding, urging you to continue.

“I don't know what I did; I just know that I threw myself on the ground and used my dad’s necklace as a talisman. I think that kept them away,” you explained, gently touching the pendant around your neck. “Then they disappeared, and I ran away as fast as I could.”

Apologizing for the midnight disturbance, you added, “I'm sorry for waking you up. I didn't want to be alone.”

Jungkook's smile, radiant even in the dimness, melted away the shadows of fear. He reassured you, “The truth is that I'm happy you came here. I wouldn't have liked you to be alone after something like that.” His fingers found yours again as he continued, “When something like that happens again, come find me, no matter what, deal, Daisy?”

In those vulnerable moments, you couldn't help but appreciate the warmth of his caring nature. His presence was a comforting haven, a solace in the midst of the eerie tale.

Opening the window for you in the dead of night wasn't an ordinary gesture. Not when you were resembling a scene from a horror movie—soaked by rain, caked in mud, and wearing an expression of sheer terror.

As you poured your gratitude into a whispered acknowledgment, you found yourself caught in a contemplative gaze. Jungkook's eyes crinkled at the corners, and his smile deepened, revealing a sincerity that resonated through the dimly lit room.

The room felt like a sanctuary, insulated from the outside world. And in that sanctuary, you acknowledged the intricacies of your feelings. You cherished him not only as a friend but as someone who had unknowingly captured your heart.

For Jungkook, love was a sacred expression, an unfettered commitment. You admired the way he loved—wholeheartedly, without reservation. His love embraced his family, enveloped his friends, and echoed in every act of kindness he bestowed upon others.

As you looked at him, you couldn't escape a twinge of envy for his ability to love fearlessly. It was this very quality that made him a beloved figure in your school and community—a beacon of happiness, responsibility, and altruism.

Witnessing his gestures, whether helping elderly neighbors or playing with children, you marveled at his genuine kindness. It painted a picture of a person who not only shared joy but also had an innate understanding of the needs of those around him.

Yet, amidst all this admiration, a poignant reality lingered. You yearned for more than friendly smiles and shared camaraderie. You wished to be the one capable of sparking an indescribable fervor within him, to have your presence elicit a symphony of emotions.

But a sobering truth anchored your heart. In his eyes, you remained a cherished friend—someone seen through the lens of platonic affection.

The dialogue drifted into a contemplative silence, each heartbeat resonating with a subdued acknowledgment. “Okay,” you eventually replied, the word carrying a depth that echoed your gratitude and an unspoken acceptance of the emotions that swirled within. “Thank you,” you added, the words whispered with a blush coloring your cheeks—a subtle testament to the complex tapestry of feelings that entangled you in the midst of the night.

A gentle sigh escaped you as you snapped out of your contemplative thoughts, deciding it was time to return home. Just as you were about to rise from the bed, Jungkook's grip on your hand tightened, a silent plea for you to stay.

“Stay,” he whispered, his breath warm against your face. The proximity between you two ignited a flurry of emotions within, and a subtle but palpable pressure began to build.

“Kook, it's okay. It's late, and we have classes in the morning,” you reassured, attempting to mask the nervousness that tinged your voice. Yet, he shook his head, his hold on your hand unwavering.

“I won't be able to sleep if you leave,” he admitted, his eyes holding an intensity that defied description. Caught in the sincerity of his gaze, you nodded slowly, acknowledging the unspoken connection between you two.

Pleased with your response, Jungkook rose from the bed, gracefully taking your empty chocolate glass and placing it on his desk. Turning back to you, he approached the bed with a certain vulnerability in his demeanor.

“Is it okay if I sleep in bed with you?” he asked, a delicate blush gracing his cheeks, his hand nervously tousling his hair. “It's okay if you don't want to! I just know how much these 'episodes' affect you, and I don't mind sleeping…”

Interrupting his anxious rambling, you gently reassured him, “It's fine, Kook. No problem.” A sigh of tranquility escaped him, and a silent understanding passed between you.

“Okay,” he nodded, settling down beside you. “Should I leave the lights on?” he asked, his gaze filled with genuine affection.

Shaking your head, you responded, “It's not necessary. You are enough.” In the soft glow of the room, your unspoken connection and deep affection lingered, an intricate dance between two souls who harbored profound feelings for each other yet struggled to articulate them. Love and protection remained unspoken, concealed in the hesitant glances and tender gestures, painting a delicate picture of two shy hearts afraid to voice the depth of their emotions.

He extinguished the warm glow of his lamp, and in the ensuing darkness, Jungkook settled down beside you. This nocturnal rendezvous wasn't unfamiliar terrain – sleeping beside Jungkook had been a cherished tradition since childhood. Pillows, often arranged as a makeshift wall, served as a quaint barrier, yet by morning, the pillows would be strewn about, and some part of him would inevitably find solace in proximity to you.

This shared ritual had dwindled as adolescence unfolded, hormones and societal expectations introducing an unspoken distance. You attributed it to the complexities of growing up, and perhaps, a lingering sense that Jungkook felt awkward about these intimate moments. Overheard whispers of school friends teasing about your close bond only fueled that perception.

Nervousness lingered as you embarked on this night together. The last time you shared a bed was months ago during an impromptu camping trip, an accidental convergence beneath the stars. You both fell asleep, and you awoke the next morning realizing you had unconsciously embraced him on his mattress.

If Jungkook felt any unease about these moments, he masked it well. Turning onto his side, he wished you goodnight with a hoarse voice. Your expectations remained tempered; you understood the limits of your friendship, acknowledging that Jungkook cherished you as a companion, nothing more.

In return, you whispered a reciprocal goodnight, surrendering yourself to the embrace of Morpheus while stealing a glance at the silhouette of your childhood friend. Longing to wrap your arms around him and cradle him as you slept, you were acutely aware that such desires were confined to the depths of your heart. Instead, you hugged yourself, creating an unbridgeable distance to prevent the impossibility of touching him. The night unfolded, a delicate dance of unspoken emotions and the quiet poetry of unrequited feelings.

Flowers, steeped in a rich history of symbolism, serve as messengers of emotions across diverse customs and cultures. The choice of a specific bloom carries nuanced significance, dictated by the occasion, the intent behind the gift, and the sentiments shared with the recipient.

While the tradition of presenting red roses to convey love and yellow roses as a symbol of friendship remains widely known, the floral lexicon extends far beyond these familiar territories. Sunflowers, for instance, embody the essence of loyalty, a cornerstone of enduring friendships.

In the floral haven where you work, offering guidance becomes an integral part of the service. Customers seek advice to ensure their floral gifts convey the right message. With a keen understanding of the language of flowers, you assist them in selecting blooms that align with their intentions.

Presently, your skilled hands are meticulously crafting a bouquet of white peonies, fulfilling a special request from a mother for her daughter's birthday. White peonies, known to attract good luck and health, symbolize youth, beauty, and a cultivated spirit, creating a meaningful tapestry of sentiments within the arrangement.

Meanwhile, at the inn, Yoongi extends his expertise to an elderly couple, providing thoughtful suggestions for their floral needs. The day unfolds with a semblance of calm, punctuated by a slightly increased influx of people. You attribute this to various ceremonies taking place, ranging from graduations to personal achievements, infusing the air with an undercurrent of celebratory joy.

Engrossed in your world, you hum along to the tune emanating from the store's black radio, a companion to your almost five years of experience in the floral industry. Your hands move with a seasoned precision as you cut and arrange the flowers, each movement a testament to your craftsmanship.

Amid this tranquility, the store's phone rings, momentarily disrupting your peace. Observing that Yoongi is still engaged with customers, you wipe your hands on your flower-patterned apron and answer the call. A young woman on the other end, her voice brimming with happiness, inquires about the store's availability.

“The store is open, don't worry,” you assure her professionally, absentmindedly playing with a pencil nearby. The joyous laughter on the other end piques your curiosity. Who could be so delighted about visiting a flower shop? Yet, in this business, you understand that each customer brings their unique story, and money, in the end, is money.

As the conversation concludes, you approach Yoongi, who seamlessly transitions between the roles of a responsible and kind worker. His cheerful demeanor while assisting customers adds a touch of warmth to the shop's ambiance. “Don't worry. The order will be ready for your granddaughter's graduation,” Yoongi reassures the departing elderly couple, their intertwined hands painting a poignant image of enduring love.

Observing the tender moment, you playfully remark, “Wow, I can't wait when that's you and Jimin.” Yoongi responds with a smile, showcasing his teeth. You continue, teasingly noting, “Although I imagine Jimin will age much better than you. Have you seen his skincare? I'm so jealous.”

Yoongi chuckled in response. “Oh, I'm well aware. Living with Jimin means witnessing his extravagant purchases. Just the other day, he splurged on what he claimed was the most expensive face mask in existence. I'm convinced he fell for a scam,” he shared with an amused smirk.

You reciprocated the laughter, understanding Jimin's penchant for acquiring things, particularly those aimed at enhancing his personal well-being. “Well, Jimin's bank account doesn't exactly suffer,” you quipped, acknowledging his financial success stemming from a business and finance degree and a thriving career at a technology company.

Yoongi, engaged in arranging items on the work table, responded, “True. He probably has enough money to buy both you and me.” A playful smile lingered on his face as he contemplated the idea.

Amused, you expressed your thoughts, “I'd gladly be bought by him. I could enjoy your paradise apartment and eat in your beautiful dining room every day.”

Yoongi let out a snort, teasingly considering the notion. "Perhaps you both could adopt me as a pet or something," you continued, playfully imagining an unconventional arrangement.

“Why would we want you as a pet?” Yoongi questioned, leaning back on the counter and adopting a casual posture. You shot him a mock-offended look as you returned to the work table, where your partially arranged flowers awaited completion.

“Because I'm fun and spontaneous!” you asserted, seizing the scissors in your hand with playful defiance. A hint of mischief sparkled in your eyes.

“Why would that be a sufficient quality to adopt you as a pet?” Yoongi stretched, his movement reminiscent of your cat Salem's languid stretches at home. The peculiar similarity between your feline companion and your best friend didn't escape your notice.

Undeterred, you retorted, “How about I roll around on the floor and juggle? I'll present my case, and you can decide if you want to adopt me.”

Before you could jokingly threaten him with the scissors, the melodious chime of bells at the front door rang, signaling the arrival of visitors and momentarily diverting your attention from the playful banter.

A swift turn brought both you and Yoongi face to face with unexpected visitors. As Yoongi began his polite greeting, his words trailed off, halted by the sight that met your collective gaze. The expressions mirrored between you and Yoongi spoke volumes, an amalgamation of surprise and curiosity.

Standing before you were Jungkook and his girlfriend, Jiwoo. Her smile, radiant from side to side, was matched only by the astonishment etched across Jungkook's features. An atmosphere of unexpected reunions and unspoken questions hung in the air.

“Hi, guys!” Jiwoo's cheerful exclamation pierced through the initial silence. “I'm so glad I can see you two again.” You and Yoongi, still processing the surprise, responded with a slightly awkward smile, caught off guard by the unforeseen encounter.

The curiosity in Jungkook's eyes couldn't be contained as he blurted out, “Do you guys work here?” The surprise lingered in his voice, and Jiwoo, seemingly aware of the intrigue, interjected with a playful shake of his shoulders. “Of course, honey! Jimin recommended this flower shop to us.”

While they continued their conversation, you and Yoongi shared a quick exchange of glances, silently conveying a mutual 'what in the fuck?!'

Thanks to the soft daylight, you took a closer, more deliberate look at Jungkook's fiancée—an opportunity denied during your initial encounter in the fleeting darkness. She stood tall, radiating a slender grace that hinted at regular gym visits, showcasing a toned and lithe physique.

Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, impeccably kept and reaching her waist. A beauty illuminated her face, with flawless, radiant skin free from any discernible imperfections. Even beneath the subtle makeup, her complexion remained perfect, highlighting her delicate features.

The delicate nuances of her face were accentuated by a touch of light and rosy fashion makeup, giving her an elegant allure. As if that weren't enough, she effortlessly pulled off a chic two-piece jacket and skirt set, a trend you had observed on various fashionable girls.

Each passing second of analysis chipped away at your self-esteem. Placed side by side, the disparity was painfully evident

She emanated a sense of chic fashion and beauty, reminiscent of those flawless girls showcased on social media. Meanwhile, you felt like a relic from the past, lacking both the financial means and the physique to confidently adorn those fashionable clothes. The mere thought of comparing yourself to her beauty became a battle you knew you had already lost.

Unable to bear the mental torture, you reluctantly averted your gaze, a pang of inferiority and a hint of jealousy settling within you.

Jungkook, still taken aback, said, “I just didn't know you guys were in charge of this place.”

Jiwoo, maintaining her infectious smile, turned her attention to you. “___ dear, can you help me with my order? I think we changed our minds about some things,” she said, as if you were long-lost friends, releasing Jungkook's hand to link arms with you.

“Order?” you asked, genuinely bewildered. The revelation that Jiwoo had placed an order caught you off guard, and you glanced at Yoongi, finding him equally perplexed.

“Of course! I placed the order a few weeks ago, Jiwoo continued, her grip on your shoulder conveying a sense of familiarity. “For a wedding? Outdoor?” Her words triggered a mental light bulb, and suddenly, you remembered the discussion you had with Yoongi about a potential wedding order.

“Of course,” you mumbled, still slightly shocked, but your legs instinctively guided Jiwoo towards your cluttered work table. Jungkook approached Yoongi, initiating a conversation as you apologized, “Sorry for the mess. I was preparing an order.”

The pervasive sense of inadequacy weighed heavily on you, particularly in your workplace, where the disparity between you and her became glaringly evident. She seemed as though she had never encountered the grit of physical labor, while your calloused hands bore the unspoken testament of hard work and perseverance.

Organizing your work table, you made space and grabbed your book, where meticulous notes of orders were kept. Jiwoo stood nearby, shaking her head reassuringly, “Don't worry. It's your work, and it's also very pretty,” she complimented, gesturing towards the unfinished bouquet of peonies.

Surprised by her compliment, you just nodded.

Opening the book, you located the latest orders and found Jiwoo's for a wedding. “Im Jiwoo?” you confirmed, and she nodded in affirmation.

Setting aside the inner turmoil and the pangs of inferiority, you gracefully donned your professional facade. After all, this is your job.

As you delved into the details of her request, you inquired about any changes or additions. The original order included a Bride's Bouquet, a Bouquet to throw, 2 Boutonnières for the bride and groom, an Arrangement for the altar, 2 Pedestals of 1.70 for the altar, and 80 twigs for the pews.

Jiwoo pointed delicately at your notebook, expressing her desire to add a flower arch. “That's a good idea,” you agreed, jotting down the suggestion. “What flowers are you thinking of for that arrangement?”

“I really don't know. I've seen some ideas online, but I'd like the help of a professional,” Jiwoo admitted.

“Sure, don't worry. I'll help you,” you assured her, maintaining a professional demeanor. Jiwoo moved closer, expressing her happiness that you could assist her. She admitted, “I'm very nervous, and Jimin told me that you were perfect for this.”

Surprised, you looked at her as she continued, “I was a little worried. Jungkook's group is all men, and I missed the female presence. You seemed to fall out of the sky for me. I hope we can be friends.” She looked at you expectantly and friendly.

The unexpected warmth of her words caught you off guard. Despite any initial reservations, Jiwoo's sincerity made it clear that her intentions were genuine.

Tinged with a subtle guilt for harboring feelings of jealousy and inferiority towards her, you met her gaze. Her eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness, darting from your face to your hands, as if she held back from initiating any physical contact.

“I know we haven’t held a conversation but I sense you're a good person, and Jimin holds you in high regard. I genuinely want a positive relationship with my fiancé's friends.” Her nervous tic, a lip bite, revealed a vulnerability that you couldn't ignore. “Don't feel pressured!” she exclaimed, quickly adding, “It's just that I don't have many friends. From what Jimin has shared, you seem genuinely nice, and it sparked a desire to be friends with you. Unfortunately, I missed meeting you at previous gatherings because Yoongi mentioned you couldn't make it.”

Her infectious cheerfulness and nervousness momentarily dispelled any lingering doubts you had about her character. It's not every day you find yourself befriending your ex-boyfriend's fiancée, —especially when your feelings still linger. Yet, with a strange but confident smile, you interrupted her rambling, embracing the unexpected bond.

“ I would love to,” you responded genuinely, your smile breaking through any hesitation. Her shyness melted away as she eagerly took your hands, exclaiming, “What a thrill! We are friends!”

However, a sudden realization struck her, and she looked at you with a hint of horror. “I mean, no! I mean, yes! Ugh, I mean, we're going to be friends.” The awkward stumble in her words added a touch of endearing charm to the moment.

Caught in the moment, Yoongi and Jungkook glanced your way, and you sent them an apologetic look.

As the conversation shifted to wedding preparations, Jiwoo sought your expertise on floral arrangements for the arch. She expressed a preference for a neutral color scheme that wouldn't overshadow the rest of the décor.

With a thoughtful expression, you brought your fingers to your chin. “A floral arch for an outdoor wedding could be enchanting with a combination of roses, peonies, and gypsophila. To create a fresh and romantic atmosphere, consider soft tones like whites, pinks, and greens. We can customize it based on your preferred color palette and the wedding style.”

Jiwoo nodded, her gaze drifting towards your partially finished arrangement. “I'd love something like these,” she pointed, “perhaps in white.”

“Those are indeed peonies, and we can incorporate white roses as well,” you suggested, emphasizing the elegance of the choice.

The idea resonated with Jiwoo, and she clapped her delicate hands in approval. “It looks perfect to me. White exudes elegance!”

You nodded in agreement, adding, “Since it's an outdoor wedding, the white will provide a beautiful contrast against the lush greenery of the surroundings.”

Jiwoo's smile widened. “Exactly! I'm aiming for a sober and neutral style. Most of the decorations will be in white.”

“Perfect, then I'm going to add this modification to the order. Anything else you want to change?” you inquired, diligently noting down the ideas in your notebook. Jiwoo rested her hands on the wooden counter, a contemplative look in her outlined eyes.

“The truth is that I had ordered roses, but I would like another variety of flowers. What other flower do you recommend for the missing decorations and the twigs for the benches?” she asked, seeking your expertise.

Setting your pencil aside, you surveyed the flower shop for inspiration. “Orchids, hydrangeas, or calla lilies are excellent options,” you suggested. “These flowers are commonly used in weddings, and considering their white versions should work seamlessly for your theme. Unless you have a preference for another color, which is entirely feasible.”

Jiwoo played with her shiny engagement ring, a detail that caught your attention just now. “I trust you. I think they are good options. Add them to the order,” she replied, a sense of confidence in her decision.

You nodded, jotting down the final details. “Okay, then an arch of roses and white peonies, and orchids, hydrangeas, and calla lilies for the other decorations,” you named to ensure nothing was overlooked. “Will these last ones be white?” you asked, and Jiwoo nodded. “Perfect. Anything else?”

“No, that would be it,” Jiwoo smiled, and you mirrored her expression. “Then it would be ready. If you have any queries or questions, let me know.” Jiwoo gratefully touched your arm before turning towards where your friend and her boyfriend were engaged in conversation.

“Dear!” she exclaimed, drawing their attention. “It's ready! ___ helped me choose the last details; come here so you can check them!”

Suddenly, your lunch, which you devoured an hour ago, seemed to threaten a return from your stomach. Handling Jiwoo alone was one thing, but facing Jungkook, especially in the presence of his girlfriend-fiancée, was another challenge entirely. Guilt gnawed at you for still harboring attraction towards him.

In an attempt to divert your attention, you focused on the succulent on the counter, nurturing the offspring that were emerging. You had rescued it from near death in a store window, choosing to see it as a rescue rather than theft.

Witnessing your discomfort from afar, Yoongi, a comforting presence, walked behind Jungkook.

As Jiwoo embraced Jungkook by her side, a peculiar sense of discomfort washed over you, prompting a quick diversion of your gaze towards your best friend.

“Did you already choose what you wanted?” Jungkook asked Jiwoo, his comforting gesture a stark contrast to the internal turbulence you felt. Your eyes sought solace in Yoongi, who had positioned himself beside you.

While the conversation unfolded between Jiwoo and Jungkook, Yoongi leaned in, whispering in your ear, “Are you okay?” You responded with a nod, squeezing his hand for reassurance.

“All good,” you assured him, attempting to dismiss the intensity of the situation. Yoongi reciprocated with a knowing nod. “She looks too intense,” he remarked, and you couldn't help but snort in agreement.

“Don't be like that,” you hushed him. “Although you're right, she is,” you added in a conspiratorial whisper.

Yoongi chuckled. “I'm sorry I couldn't save you. She just kidnapped you.”

You acknowledged his comment. “She did, but I genuinely believe she means well. A bit too cheerful for my taste, but I think she's a good person.”

As Yoongi absentmindedly played with the loose strands of your bun, he continued sharing his thoughts. “Yeah? The truth is that I don't know how to feel about her. I think she has too much personality. Every time I see her, she takes my energy away,” he admitted.

Understanding Yoongi's introverted nature, you empathized with his sentiments. Jiwoo's aura appeared clean and clear, devoid of any negative vibes thanks to your discerning skills. However, her vivacious personality could indeed be overwhelming, particularly for someone like Yoongi, whose energy was easily drained by social interactions.

In consideration of his well-being, you had crafted a bracelet with stones known for preserving energy, a thoughtful gift from you. Yoongi currently wore it on his wrist, unaware that it was more than a mere accessory. You had discreetly given it to him the first year you met, recognizing his need for energy preservation. It remained a secret that the bracelet wasn't just a trinket but a genuinely effective tool against energy depletion.

The flower shop's ambiance seemed to shift as Jiwoo's voice permeated the air, interrupting your quiet exchange with Yoongi.

“___ gave me the idea of the flowers we could use,” she shared, and Jungkook's appreciative smile was directed your way. The discomfort lingered, an unwelcome companion as you handed the conversational baton back to him. A quiet reminder that you were intricately involved in preparing the floral arrangements for the wedding of the person you still held a deep affection for, even if he was to wed another.

“What do you think of orchids and peonies?” Jiwoo queried, seemingly oblivious to the emotions simmering beneath the surface. “I know you love daisies, but you told me you don't want to use them for our wedding. So I think the options ___ gave me are good.”

The mention of daisies prompted your head to lift in surprise. Beside you, Yoongi shared a similar reaction, although perhaps for different reasons. Memories associated with the flower brought an unexpected wave of emotion, momentarily distracting you.

“Daisy?”

The boy smiled happily.

"You saved me in a field of Daisies. It's fitting. You're going to be Daisy.”

“They're fine,” Jungkook responded, his indifference a stark contrast to the internal turbulence you were experiencing. “They're cute.”

The necklace around your neck felt like an anchor, grounding you in the reality of the situation. Determinedly, you steadied yourself at the table, attempting to shake off the surge of memories that threatened to overpower the present.

'Come on, girl, it's just a memory,' Aunt Yoon's reassuring voice echoed in your mind, offering a momentary reprieve.

“Peonies are perfect for weddings,” Yoongi interjected, skillfully redirecting the attention away from you. Grateful for the subtle intervention, you lightly touched his arm in acknowledgment.

“They are very beautiful!” Jiwoo exclaimed, her enthusiasm evident as she squeezed Jungkook's arm. “Look, babe, ____ is making a beautiful arrangement with them.” She pointed to your unfinished bouquet.

Jungkook's gaze shifted to you, and a soft comment escaped his lips. “You have a talent for this.”

Intimidated by the unexpected praise, you nodded shyly and looked away, attempting to shield the warmth that crept onto your cheeks from Jungkook's discerning eyes.

“She does!” Jiwoo responded “I'm glad that you are the ones who take care of this for our important day.”

Both you and Yoongi exchanged smiles, though if nerves and tension hadn't gripped you, you might have found humor in the way you two stood still, akin to statues—almost like the infamous standing guy emoji.

Jiwoo's phone rang, offering a welcome interruption to the somewhat awkward atmosphere. She waved apologetically and retreated to the far side of the store.

“How long have you two been working with flowers?” Jungkook asked, his curiosity evident as he absently played with his lip piercing. Observing your still semblance, Yoongi took the initiative to respond. “Professionally, about five years for me,” your friend shared, casually leaning against the white wall. “Although this kid,” he pointed at you, “has been dedicated to them for much longer than me.”

You mentally cursed Yoongi for drawing Jungkook's attention towards you. Trying to play it cool, you simply shrugged, hoping the moment would pass without much scrutiny.

Contrary to your expectation, Jungkook pressed the issue further. “How long has it been?” he asked you, locking eyes directly with you.

Feeling a bit flustered, you toyed with the edges of your brown skirt. “All my life, I guess,” you admitted shyly. “I've had a knack for this since I was a child.”

Jungkook offered a kind smile. “It fits you perfectly.”

Confused by his remark, you looked at him, but before you could inquire further, Jiwoo returned.

“I'm sorry, it was my boss. She wants me to give her some documents,” she apologized, rejoining Jungkook and linking arms with him. “You know, the fashion industry doesn't rest! Anyway, thank you for helping us! It was a pleasure to see you... see you tomorrow!" she said, moving Jungkook along to say goodbye to both of you.

She gave you a kiss on the cheek and a half hug, repeating the gesture with Yoongi, who couldn't refuse, even if his poker face hinted at discomfort when she kissed him on the cheek. In contrast, Jungkook offered a simple half hug and a sincere smile to you and a handshake to Yoongi.

Distracted by the proximity and the unexpected hug from Jungkook, you didn't realize they were leaving the store. Jiwoo's voice from the entrance brought you back to reality: “___, remember that you are invited to the wedding!” With that, they left.

You and Yoongi exchanged dumbfounded glances, shrugging your shoulders in mutual bewilderment. The weight of the day, now felt long and heavy, lingered in the air as you reflected on the unexpected encounter with your past and the impending involvement in Jungkook's wedding preparations.

In the echoing silence of your kitchen, Salem's mocking laughter lingered as you diligently prepared the food. The sardonic feline couldn't believe the news about the wedding invitation, his disbelief evident in his amused voice, “She befriended you and invited you to the wedding? Bloody hell! Your luck is worse than mine,” he quipped, reveling in laughter.

“And you have to prepare the flower arrangements for them?” your cat continued, clutching his belly in amusement. “What a laugh, for Satan's sake, I have to write about this on my Twitter! It's so funny.”

Irritated by the recollection of Salem's mocking laughter an hour ago, you took out your frustration on the onions, chopping them with visible anger. The sharp knife sliced through the layers, absorbing the weight of your annoyance.

“Woah, what did the onion do to you?” Yoongi commented as he entered your compact kitchen, holding freshly purchased meat. Ignoring him, you continued with your task, determined to drown out the lingering echoes of Salem's laughter.

Yoongi chuckled, “You've been like this for an hour.” Unresponsive, you persisted in your culinary efforts.

Stupid Salem, you cursed internally, I hope you fall in the toilet.

Sensing your irritation, Yoongi decided against further teasing and turned on the small radio hanging by the window and above the refrigerator. The kitchen filled with the comforting hum of a radio show, providing a backdrop to your cooking and dinner preparations with Yoongi, a routine that brought a sense of warmth.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi's question cut through the rhythmic sounds of chopping as he prepared the meat beside you.

You looked at him with curiosity, “What do you mean?”

“These last few days, you've been more tired and pale,” he noted, his gaze fixed on the meat as he skillfully sliced it. “Do you feel sick?”

Yoongi's perceptiveness caught on to your exhaustion. In recent days, waking up and going to bed tired became routine, and the dark circles under your eyes grew more pronounced. Makeup became a necessity to hide the visible signs. You attributed it to recent events, but even Salem, your astute feline, began to notice. He insisted you consume a peculiar green liquid, its origin shrouded in mystery, as a potential remedy for your strange condition but still had no effect.

Unable to deny Yoongi's keen observations, you admitted, “Something, but I guess my anemia may have returned.” The mention of the past diagnosis prompted memories of the treatment you underwent.

Yoongi nodded, concern etching his features. “You should go to the doctor; if you want, I'll go with you.”

Yoongi consistently stands by your side during hospital visits, interpreting your unease as a typical fear, perhaps of needles, remaining unaware that the true source lies in spectral encounters. Your aversion is rooted in the haunting presence of departed souls and the near-dead that once relentlessly pursued and shadowed you within those clinical walls.

Acknowledging Yoongi's usual support during hospital visits, you replied,

“It's okay. I'll go if it gets worse,” tossing the cut onions into the pot of simmering water. The culinary task provided a brief distraction from the mysterious fatigue that had settled over the past few days.

Yoongi's nod was a tacit agreement as he brandished the knife in your direction. You reciprocated with a nod, diligently focusing on preparing the vegetables. “Don't worry, old man,” you teased, and both of you immersed yourselves in the culinary activities. An hour later, satiated and reclined on the couch, Salem peacefully nestled between you, the atmosphere was content.

Observing a wildlife documentary on TV, where a snake devoured a mouse in slow motion, Yoongi mused, “Wildlife is so...wild?”

You keep your eyes closed and waited for the unsettling scene to pass, snakes not being your favorite due to haunting memories of a dreadful person.

“That's the law of the jungle, my friend” you replied. “You're not even looking, Daisy,” Yoongi retorted. “I don't think watching a snake swallow Ratatouille is the best after-dinner programming,” you countered. “Come on, it could be considered one. Anyway, the snake is having raw mouse for dinner,” he remarked. You made a disgusted face, lamenting Ratatouille. As your gaze shifted to the ceiling, annoyance struck you at the sight of cobwebs around the light.

“Letting Ratatouille leave this world with dignity, tomorrow's plan still stands right?” Yoongi queried. Turning to him, you realized he was already scrutinizing you. Trying to sound nonchalant, you replied, “I guess? Why is it so important for me to go?” Distracting yourself, you stretched your bare legs on the coffee table, wiggling your toes. Yoongi snorted, “It's not that it's important that you go. It's just that you've avoided going to my home like it has the plagues of Egypt or something.”

Raising an eyebrow, you defended, “I haven't avoided your home! I told you I couldn't come.” Yoongi wore a mocking expression. “As far as I know, the only times you've refused to go to our meetings have been these last few weeks, since Jimin introduced his friend.”

His inquisitive gaze probed for clues about your thoughts or feelings. Uneasy, you played with your necklace. “It's just a coincidence,” you insisted, “It’s not weird at all.” Yoongi's eyes locked onto yours, searching. “Do you have a problem with them?” he asked pointedly.

Feeling like a child under parental scrutiny, you shifted uncomfortably. “No,” you asserted, attempting sincerity. “I don't believe you,” Yoongi countered, leaning in your direction. Uncomfortable, you fidgeted. “Why do you think I lied?” you asked. “Because I know you,” Yoongi confessed softly. Offended, you sighed, “I have no problem with them, it's just that these weeks have been strange, okay?”

"It's fine if you don't want to tell me" Yoongi pulled back. “I don't want to bother you, I just want to know what's wrong.”

You felt burdened by guilt and weighed down by regret.

You quickly took his hand “I know, I don't want you to feel bad, but I'm not ready to tell you, is it okay yet?”

He smiled and opened his arms. You throw yourself into the middle of his arms happily.

You stayed in each other's comfort for a while until Yoongi interrupted the quiet moment.

“Daisy, before I forget, do you have the botany book that you offered me? I want to read it”

You nodded, stepping out of his arms. “Yes, let me go get it.”

You got up from the couch and headed towards your room.

The botany book that you had offered to Yoongi was a relic, something that your aunt Binna had given you on your tenth birthday, something that belonged to a very talented witch in the field of botany and that helped you study and learn much more about plants. (For your good fortune, it had no vocabulary or a wink towards witchcraft.)

Arriving at your room, you took it out of your bookcase and shook it, removing the dust.

Luckily for you, the material on the outside was hard and durable, so it didn't spoil so quickly.

The botany book was almost in perfect condition—if it hadn't been for all the times you used it and that was evident in the marked corners.

You calmly returned to the living room and handed the heavy book to your friend who was petting your cat.

“You're leaving?” You asked when you saw that he got up from the couch and began to collect his things.

"Yeah, it's getting kinda late, and I think Jimin would prefer if I swing by to pick him up," he casually mentioned.

“Wait a bit! Let me pack some leftover food from dinner for Jimin” you said as you headed to the kitchen.

Swiftly, you grabbed a storage bowl, transferring the remaining delectable contents from the pot with practiced ease.

Ignorant of your surroundings, you turned around and were surprised to see Yoongi, who had something in his hand and was looking at you with a grim expression.

Before you could ask what was wrong, Yoongi interrupted you.

“Why do you have a photo with Jeon Jungkook in your book?” he said furiously, showing you what he had in his hand.

In the photograph, a radiant teenager Jeon Jungkook embraced you warmly, cradling you against his chest with evident joy, while your smile radiated, revealing the gleam of your teeth. This memorable snapshot was captured by Jungkook on the day of your first date, etching the moment in your memory.

Upon viewing the photo, you accidentally let slip the storage bowl, causing it to tumble to the ground.

Yoongi's gaze intensified as he confronted you about the unexpected photo with Jeon Jungkook. The air grew tense, and you felt a knot tightening in your stomach. Memories flooded back from your childhood and teenage years, and you hesitated before responding to his inquiry.

“I... I didn't expect you to find that,” you stammered, your eyes avoiding his accusing gaze. The photograph captured a moment frozen in time, a reminder of a past connection that you hadn't shared with Yoongi.

Silence hung in the air as Yoongi waited for an explanation, his expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

The tension tightens its grip on you as you grapple with how to explain your connection with Jungkook without unraveling the truth about your other life. Thoughts race through your mind, haunted by the fear of choosing between maintaining the lie and losing Yoongi, who would undoubtedly seek answers alongside Jungkook, deepening the confusion. The option to explain everything presents itself, but the looming risk of losing Yoongi forever casts a shadow. Could you reveal fragments of the truth without jeopardizing your present? Your relationship with Jungkook appears enigmatic without broaching the delicate topic you've concealed for years. Internal fear intensifies as you desperately search for a solution to preserve the present without unraveling the fragile threads of your hidden history.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to open up about a part of your life you had kept hidden.

“Jungkook and I were close friends back then, but things changed over time,” you began, carefully choosing your words. “It's a complicated story, and I didn't want it to affect us. I should have told you earlier.”

Little pieces of truth, you remembered yourself

Yoongi's stern expression softened slightly as he listened, but the tension lingered.

The weight of the unspoken details pressed on you as you tried to explain yourself.

In a desperate plea, you emphasized, “He's completely unaware of who I am, okay? Trust is crucial here. You can't disclose anything to him.” Swiftly interrupting any potential response, you added, “This is linked to a major secret, one that could pose a danger to you if known. I pledge to reveal all, but I need time. It's essential to verify that everything is in order, ensuring your safety. Once that's confirmed, I'll lay bare everything, addressing all your inquiries promptly.” The urgency in your words mirrored the gravity of the situation.

Yoongi's demeanor shifted from frustration to a more understanding tone. Finally, he broke the lingering silence.

“I'm bothered, ____. But for now, I'll let it slide. However, whether you like it or not, you'll have to fill me in on your connection with Jungkook,” Yoongi's words cut through the air and though you nodded frantically, the use of your name instead of your nickname stung.

“I understand; you have every right to be upset. You don't deserve to be lied to, but I need you to trust me,” you yearned to approach him, yet he instinctively took a step back. The physical retreat mirrored the emotional distance between you, a painful acknowledgment of your transgressions.

Before he could articulate his feelings, Yoongi's phone rang, momentarily diverting his attention. After a brief glance at the caller ID—Jimin—he returned his gaze to you. “It's Jimin. I have to go,” he declared, devoid of emotion. You nodded with your head lowered, absorbing the weight of the moment.

Witnessing Yoongi's anger was an unfamiliar sensation, intensifying the hurt of the situation. But before you could dwell further on your remorse, Yoongi was already at the door. Without a chance to say goodbye, he left abruptly.

Salem, who seemed to be feigning sleep, opened one eye and surveyed the room. Sensing your lingering distress, the cat extended a paw towards you.

"Well, that was terrible," Salem commented. Unwilling to engage, you retreated to your room with your head hung low, grappling with the aftermath of a fractured trust.

As Yoongi left, you couldn't shake the sense that this conversation was a turning point, and the aftermath would shape the dynamics of your relationship with him.

Gratitude washed over you for the ingenious creator of clocks as you swiftly vacated your room. The shrill reminder of your alarm spared you from succumbing to unintended sleep, a silent savior in the early hours.

Yet, another restless night haunted you, a lingering aftermath of the recent clash with Yoongi. The turbulent evening left its mark, a shadow cast upon your sleep. Hastening through a shower, you changed attire with an almost mechanical precision, dabbing on makeup to disguise the pronounced dark circles.

Ensuring your floral dress adorned you perfectly, you dashed to the kitchen, snatching your trusty emergency fruit snack – a ritual for mornings when lateness trumped the luxury of a proper breakfast

A brown leather bag swung over your shoulder, you glanced at the hallway mirror, verifying that your short hair retained its neatness.

Keys in hand, you hurriedly exited your abode, only to be halted abruptly by your neighbor from across the hall. Mrs. Hwang, a kind elderly lady who lived alone, emerged simultaneously. Her penchant for gifting cakes or sweets, citing your resemblance to her granddaughter, added a sweet touch to your encounters.

Resignedly closing your eyes, the inevitability of tardiness loomed as Mrs. Hwang spotted you. It wasn't disdain for conversation that plagued you; rather, it was the extended duration of each exchange. Pleasant as discussions about gardening were, the prospect of an hour-long dialogue felt like the worst timing possible.

In a conflicted moment, you weighed the courtesy of Mrs. Hwang against the ticking clock, realizing that the upcoming conversation, though delightful, stood as an obstacle in your race against time.

“It's my beautiful daisy!” she sweetly greeted you, and despite the inner turmoil caused by your delayed departure, you offered a warm smile.

“Mrs. Hwang,” you responded as she approached, her steps limited by the weariness in her legs. “Every day I see you, you get prettier,” she complimented, prompting an internal eyebrow raise. Uncertain if her kindness veiled the truth of your tired appearance or if she needed stronger glasses, you maintained your pleasant demeanor.

“Don't be like that,” you replied shyly, “You're the one who looks pretty. Did you change your hair color? It looks good on you.”

Mrs. Hwang adjusted her glasses, clearly pleased with your compliment. “Likewise,” she responded, “I went to the hairdresser yesterday.” As she delved into the details of her salon visit, you subtly checked your watch, each passing minute intensifying your internal distress. If Yoongi was upset with yesterday, he wouldn't be pleased today. He despised unpunctuality.

In your mind, escape plans took shape. Triggering the fire alarm was considered and promptly dismissed due to the potential chaos of an evacuation. A subtler idea surfaced – turning on Mrs. Hwang's television or radio, objects she detested in the mornings. You could bid your farewell as she turned it off, then make a swift exit.

Concealing your hand behind your back, you snapped your fingers, and moments later, the television inside Mrs. Hwang's apartment blared to life. She grimaced. “I hate the electricity in this place. It always turns the television on or off without my permission. Just a moment, my dear, I'll go turn it off.”

Exhilarated by the success of your diversion, you seized the moment. As Mrs. Hwang began her retreat, you promptly exclaimed, “I'm sorry, Mrs. Hwang, but an emergency came up. We'll catch up later. Good morning!” The words, premeditated but delivered in the heat of the moment, were your cue. With purposeful energy, you swiftly dashed down the aged hallway as if tomorrow hinged on every hurried step.

Without casting a backward glance, you descended the stairs in haste, aiming for the second floor. However, your progress was abruptly halted as a dog leaped onto you midway up the staircase. As you grappled with the unexpected canine intruder, you realized it was none other than Bam.

You stopped for a second, if Bam was here, then his owner was…

The echo of a male voice, filled with agitation, reverberated through the tiled space with a resounding “Bam!” In a swift maneuver, Jungkook ascended the stairs, his figure materializing before you in less than five seconds. He scolded his pet for running without permission, oblivious to your presence until he reached the halfway point, where he noticed your brown summer sandals.

Seizing the moment, his gaze lifted, locking onto yours. A mix of surprise and joy animated his features. “Daisy!” he exclaimed, catching you off guard with the nickname. Instinctively, you checked your necklace, confirming the spell's persistence. Uncertain whether to embrace the relief of its continued efficacy or acknowledge a tinge of disappointment at his apparent lack of recognition, you hesitated.

“Daisy?” you exclaimed, caught off guard. Jungkook, with a hint of surprise in his eyes, responded, “That's your name, right?” He nervously played with his lip piercing, mentioning, “Yoongi and Jimin call you that. It's okay, isn't it?” Concern was evident in his voice.

Still taken aback, you nodded and explained, “It's my nickname; everyone calls me that.” Jungkook, slightly anxious, touched his neck, asking, “Is it okay if I call you that, or do you prefer your actual name?” Observing his fidgety leg movements, you recognized his nervous tic.

“It's not that I'm unaware of your name; it's just that the nickname is endearing,” he began to ramble. “And it makes sense, you know, like you're this flower girl…”

You interjected, realizing he wouldn't stop unless you clarified the uncertainty.

“It's okay, I prefer to be called that. Don't worry.” Wanting to ease his nerves, you added a small smile. Jungkook, visibly relieved, sighed, “That's good. I thought I offended you.”

He tenderly caressed Bam's head, and a smile formed on your lips as you observed the affectionate scene.

Curiosity laced his words, “What are you doing here?” you looked at him, mildly surprised.

Nonchalantly, you replied, “I live here,” as if it were the most evident fact in the world.

His stunned expression prompted you to confirm, “Do you live here?” You nodded, mirroring his disbelief. “Yeah?”

A few seconds of silence hung in the air as you and Jungkook exchanged looks. Breaking the stillness, you decided to inquire, “What are you doing here?”

His surprise mirrored yours, “I live here,” he responded. You couldn't conceal your astonishment, “As?”

Unfazed, Jungkook explained, “I mean, I've been living here since today. I just moved.”

You internally prayed for an available apartment other than the one next to yours in this worn-out complex. However, your hopes dwindled as Jungkook revealed, “I moved to the third floor. Apartment E65?” He attempted to persuade you with a hopeful expression.

‘Oh, for hell’s sake!’ you mentally exclaimed.

Your luck took a peculiar turn as your apartment turned out to be e66.

The name of the apartment wasn't just a coincidence; you couldn't help but grin mentally because, yes, you deliberately chose the apartment with the striking resemblance to 666. It became a private joke between you and Salem, and while you might claim it had nothing to do with the reference, the sly smile on your face everytime you read it hinted at a mischievous decision when you picked that particular unit.

In this moment, recalling the name of your apartment only stirred up fear and annoyance. Whether it was a cosmic prank or sheer fate, having Jungkook weave into every aspect of your life lately has reached its breaking point.

Dealing with him as part of your common group of friends and begrudgingly handling floral arrangements for his wedding were one thing, but having him as your neighbor crossed a line. You stood frozen, still wearing a surprised expression.

Curiosity laced Jungkook's inquiry, “What apartment do you live in?” The universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke, and you contemplated whether to cry, throw yourself down the stairs, or express your anger at this twisted fate. Unfortunately, you settled for the last option.

“Apparently, we're neighbors,” you tried to sound casual, but the attempt failed masterfully. Jungkook's head lifted upon hearing you.

“Really?” he asked, and you couldn't ignore the overly happy tone in his voice. Your carefully crafted plan to keep Jungkook at a distance crumbled.

“So it seems,” you blurted out, your tone edged with a touch of sarcasm. The realization hit – your hopes of maintaining distance from Jungkook had gone down the drain, and you couldn't escape the impending proximity.

In that moment, an unsettling thought crept in—was this twist of fate payback for erasing Jungkook's memories of you a decade ago? The cosmic irony hung heavy, and you couldn't escape the feeling that destiny, with a wry sense of humor, was unfolding a new chapter where past actions came full circle.

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #magic au #bts #jungkook fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook and reader

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boringkate · 7 months

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I don't think cohost (which hides follower counts and reblog counts etc) was able to convince me that hiding all analytics was the right move.

But bluesky (which shows everything and bc of the invite system is exclusively used by clout chasers (I can say that bc I'm a clout chasing weirdo too)) was able to convince me that hiding all analytics was the right move.

The vibe difference is stark.

And! To be fair! Cohost is an absolute ghost town! But the approximately five posts that show up on my dashboard over there each day are bangers! And I think the people using it know it's a ghost town! Which is cute!

People on bluesky seem to think that bluesky is not only the future (it may be (that's why I'm on it)), but that it's also the present (it is not lol). They're talking about hypothetical careers being made and lost over structural changes causing imagined declines in engagement and needing to organize to methodically promote each other. They don't know they're in a ghost town.

Meanwhile. Tumblr (this shuffling corpse of a social media platform) (this laughing stock of a website) apparently has literally like a hundred times more monthly active users than bluesky has total registered accounts (and there's a lot of accounts on there that haven't been touched in a month).

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aimeedaisies · 11 months

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The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in June 2023

01/06 As Colonel-in-Chief of The Royal Logistic Corps, Princess Anne attended the Freedom of the City of Winchester Parade at the Guildhall to mark the 30th Anniversary of the Corps, followed by a Service of Thanksgiving in Winchester Cathedral. 🫡

03/06 Princess Anne departed from Heathrow Airport for Canada and was received at Calgary International Airport by the Lieutenant Governor of Alberta. 🇨🇦

As President of The Duke of Edinburgh’s Commonwealth Study Conferences, HRH met with delegates and later attended a Dinner at the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity. 🌍

04/06 As President of The Duke of Edinburgh’s Commonwealth Study Conferences, HRH attended the Opening Plenary of the Commonwealth Study Conference. She departed Calgary Airport for the United Kingdom and arrived back on 05/06 🇨🇦

06/06 As Royal Patron of Motor Neurone Disease Association, attended a Care Forum at Boughton House, Kettering. 🦠

As Master of the Corporation of Trinity House, HRH attended a Younger Brethrens’ Dinner at Trinity House, Tower Hill, London EC3. 🍽️

07/06 As Master of the Corporation of Trinity House, HRH attended the Trinitytide Anniversary Annual Court Meeting, Church Service and Luncheon at Trinity House. 🥗

The Princess Royal attended the Canadian Armed Forces Day Reception at the High Commission of Canada in the United Kingdom, Canada House, Trafalgar Square. 🇨🇦

08/06 The Princess Royal, as Honorary Air Commodore of Royal Air Force Brize Norton, attended a Parade to mark the retirement of C-130J Hercules and the disbandment of 47 Squadron at Royal Air Force Brize Norton. ✈️

Her Royal Highness, As Royal Patron of the Security Institute, HRH attended a Careers Fair at the Victory Services Club 💼

As Patron, International Students House, attended a Reception. 👨‍🎓

12/06 As Patron, of the British Nutrition Foundation, Princess Anne visited Washingborough Academy in Lincoln, to mark the 11th Healthy Eating Week for Schools. 🍎

As President of Carers Trust, HRH visited the new Facilities for Carers at the Carers’ Support Service at the Old Waterworks Office in Grimsby. 🩺

As Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, HRH held a Dinner at St James’s Palace. 🍽️

13/06 Held an Investiture ceremony at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

The Princess Royal, As Chairman of the International Olympic Committee Members Election Commission, held a Members Election Commission Meeting. 🤸��♀️

14/06 Held two Investiture ceremonies at Windsor Castle. 🎖️

Received His Excellency Sir Rodney Williams (Governor-General of Antigua and Barbuda) and Lady Williams. 🇦🇬

15/06 The Princess Royal as Colonel of The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons) carried out the following engagements;

Attended the parading of the new Sovereign’s Standard to the Regiment followed by a Reception at Hyde Park Barracks.💂‍♂️

Attended a Household Cavalry Council Meeting at Hyde Park Barracks. 🐴

The new Sovereign’s Standard to The Blues and Royals was presented by HRH to HM in the Quadrangle of Buckingham Palace and was received with a Royal Salute. After the new Standard was consecrated, The Parade subsequently ranked past HM and HRH. 🚩

As President of the Royal Commission for the Exhibition of 1851, attended the Fellows’ Reception at the Royal Geographical Society. 🌍

16/06 The Princess Royal, as Colonel of The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons), presided over a Conference attended by the Colonels of the Regiments of the Household Division. HRH subsequently attended the Senior Colonels’ Dinner at Clarence House. 🫡

17/06 In her role as Colonel-in-Chief of the Blues and Royals and Gold Stick in Waiting, the Princess Royal along with Sir Tim and other members of the royal family attended King Charles first Trooping the Colour Parade as monarch. 💂‍♂️

His Majesty was followed by The Prince of Wales (Colonel, Welsh Guards), The Princess Royal (Colonel, The Blues and Royals, Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons) and The Duke of Edinburgh (Royal Honorary Colonel, 1st Battalion London Guards) on horseback down the Mall towards Horse Guards Parade. Duchess Sophie, Sir Tim and the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester travelled in carriages and the Duke of Kent (Colonel, Scots Guards) followed by car. 🐎

The troops on Parade, under the command of Lieutenant Colonel John Livesey, Welsh Guards (Field Officer in Brigade Waiting), received The King with a Royal Salute. 🫡

After the Parade, the RF rode back to Buckingham Palace on horseback, in carriages and by car. The Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment and The King’s Troop, Royal Horse Artillery ranked past The King on arrival at Buckingham Palace. 🐴

The royal family stood on the balcony of Buckingham Palace and witnessed a fly-past by aircraft of the Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force. ✈️

19/06 The Princess Royal and Sir Tim with other members of the royal family and other members of the Garter attended a Chapter of the Most Noble Order of the Garter in the Throne Room, Windsor Castle.

They all later attended a Luncheon Party for the Companions of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. 🥪

An Installation Service was held in St George’s Chapel at which two new members were installed in the order. 🪶

20/06 As Colonel, The Blues and Royals (Royal Horse Guards and 1st Dragoons), attended a Dinner at Drapers’ Hall. 🍽️

Unofficial Attended day one of Royal Ascot with Zara and Mike Tindall, Peter Phillips and Lindsay Wallace 🐎

21/06 Unofficial Princess Anne, Sir Tim, Zara & Mike Tindall and other members of the RF attended day two of Royal Ascot. 🐴

22/06 Unofficial Princess Anne, Sir Tim, Zara & Mike Tindall and other members of the RF attended Ladies Day, day three of Royal Ascot. 🐴

23/06 Visited the Royal Highland Show at the Royal Highland Centre in Edinburgh where she met exhibitors, farmers, animals and sampled local food and drink. 🐮🐑🧀🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

24/06 Attended the Icelandic Horse Society British Championships and Summer Festival at Washbrook Farm, Aston le Walls. 🇮🇸🐎

27/06 Attended the opening ceremony of the World Equestrian Festival, CHIO Aachen, Germany. 🇩🇪🐎

28/06 Toured behind the scenes and met team GB at the World Equestrian Festival, CHIO Aachen, Germany. 🇩🇪🇬🇧

29/06 The Princess Royal, as President of Carers Trust, accompanied by Sir Tim, attended a Reception in London SW1. 🦽

Princess Anne as Patron of United Kingdom Sailing Academy, accompanied by Sir Tim, attended a Founders’ Club Dinner at the Corporation of Trinity House. ⛵️

30/06 The Princess Royal presented Prize Day awards at the Royal School Haslemere. 🏆

Total official engagements for Anne in June: 40

2023 total so far: 262

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in June : 6

2023 total so far: 56

#princess anne #princess royal #monthly engagement count #june 2023 #hardest working royal 🫡

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avatarrecom · 6 months

Note

heyy gurrl just wanna let you know that i frickin love your fics so much ❤😊! also i'm feeling like sweetheart so maybe you should write about poly recoms x very sweet, friendly human reader ???

feel free to ignore this 😊❤

Sweet reader

Pairing: Poly!recoms x Human!reader

Word count: 482

A/N: Thank you 💙! Sorry for the long wait, I totally forgot your request 🫣. I wrote some headcanons instead of a one-shot, I hope you don't mind! And I hope that you're still feeling sweetheartish.

You’re the sweetest little human they’ve ever met.

Whereas almost everyone called them zombies and other mean shit behind their backs (because no one's stupid enough to say shit to their faces).

But you were so sweet and kind to them.

You always smile brightly at them in the hallways.

If they’d return from a mission you’d greet them and fuss over any potential injuries, insisting that they drink and eat some before reporting to the boss.

If they were about to leave for a mission, you would always see them off, insisting that they’d be safe.

Eventually they all fell in love with you.

At first, it was awkward when they realized that they all had a thing for you.

But they came to the agreement that they would share you.

When they eventually sat you down and explained everything they felt, you were overwhelmed at first.

They suggested a polyamorous relationship, but you didn’t know what to think about it.

You really liked them, but you felt like you would be a slut if you engaged in a relationship with them all.

You eventually confided in Z-dog and Walker about your feelings.

They assured you that none of them would think that and that if anyone said something like that to you, they’d kick their asses.

So eventually you let the squad know that you were open to be in a relationship with all of them.

They’d be so protective of you.

If someone was bothering you, suddenly one of them showed up behind you with the others some distance away, glaring at whoever it was.

The recom who shows up behind you glares at them, daring them to continue.

They’d definitely see him as a problem.

Until you managed to convince them that they were leaving you alone.

One day they definitely announced in the cafeteria that you were theirs and theirs alone.

They glare at everyone who looks at you a second too long.

You have to convince them to back off multiple times (a day lol).

But they always do whatever you ask.

You need a cuddle? No worries, Prager will hold you for hours.

Are you on your period? Z-dog and Walker have cleared out their day to spend with you.

Is some guy creeping you out? He gets sent back to earth (or his oxygen mask mysteriously malfunctions when he’s working outside)

Quaritch holding you close when he’s doing paperwork.

Z-dog and Walker having a weekly girls night with you.

Ja teaching you medical stuff because you want to be able to help when they’re injured.

Researching new recipes with Mansk.

Holding a monthly book club with Ja and Prager.

Hiding Brown and Fike when they get in trouble because of their latest prank.

Watching telenovelas with Lopez.

Laughing at Lyle’s stupid corny jokes.

Weekly movie night with them all, rotating between everyone for cuddles.

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reikaryu · 1 year

Text

“ come back, please ”

— a kim mingyu x fem!reader one-shot ! you think your fiancé is cheating on you.

GENRE. angst (fluff ending), established relationship

WARNING(S). mentions of infidelity, miscommunication

WORD COUNT. 2.2k words

A/N. I actually hate this but I’ve got to keep my activity up <3

It’s been more than a week since you talked to Mingyu. You come home late every night due to work and see him already sleeping peacefully on your shared bed, cuddling a pillow which you assume was there in place of you. Every morning, he wakes up an hour earlier than you and has already left by the time you get out of bed.

The two of you are at that point in life where work would bother you every single day, yet you can’t stop just yet. You are, and have been, engaged for close to a year already, and you would’ve thought that your monthly savings of half your pay — as well as Mingyu’s — would suffice for your wedding and the aftermath of it, but you still continue. You know very well you’re doing this only because you’re paranoid, but as for the man you’ve been in love with since high school …

Unfortunately, you haven’t really had the time to talk. A week prior to the current one, all of your conversations with Mingyu consisted of basic caring questions from fiancé to fiancée and one word replies; maybe the occasional kiss to the lips or warm hug you had grown used to.

You had every right to assume he was seeing another woman.

As much as you don’t want to, it is a possibility — and one that you can’t get out of your head. You refuse to believe the little voice pestering you to pack up and leave. You can’t. You need him, and maybe that little voice was lying all along, and in reality, Mingyu needs you, too. He told you that every time you had petty little arguments, no matter if it was you or him apologising first.

You’re sitting on your couch, alas having emailed your boss for a half day at work. You were let off rather easily, seeing as you’re one of the more loyal employees amongst people of your age, who tend to change jobs every few months for the ‘experience’.

It is six o’clock in the evening. You’re expecting the beep of your digital door to sound, as it does whenever the pin entered in was correct and the door was unlocked. And as the door opens, it is revealed that your fiancé has come home from work.

The scene happens exactly as you wished it to. You wait patiently as Mingyu enters the door code and walks into the house with his suit jacket hung over his left shoulder. You notice that he’s holding a few bags in his right hand and walk over to him swiftly to set him free of their weight.

He mutters a quiet ‘thank you’ and once his shoes as well as tie were off, he pulled you into a hug. You stay that way, encased in his arms, for a minute, before he tilts your head up to catch you in a sweet kiss — one that was more passionate than any other in the past month or so. But you feel odd.

“Are you sick?” Mingyu tenderly questions, stroking your hair as a force of habit. “You’re not usually home this early.” I’m tired and I want to find out whether you’ve been bringing another woman into this house whenever I’m not around.

The words get stuck in your throat as the little devil on your shoulder took over you for a split second. You compose yourself quickly and reply, “I wanted to see you. It’s been a long time since we got to spend time with each other.” Not a lie — never a lie. You will yourself to believe it was truer than what your little devil was so insistent on standing by.

Your fiancé chuckles, and you realise how much you’ve missed him. Not just his laugh that was music to your ears, but his comforting presence, his warm smile and the saccharine pecks he would leave on every surface of your body he could reach.

Mingyu kisses you once more, then proceeds to say a little guiltily, “I’m gonna take a shower. You may have taken one already, but the door’s always open if you want to join.” He squeezes your shoulders and you leave a peck on his palm when you manage to grasp it for a second.

This is what your love with him is. Hugs, soft words and many, many kisses. You want it back.

But when your fiancé comes home the next day with a woman all drunk and wasted after you made the effort to come home earlier than usual, everything you hoped for came crashing down.

He shoots you an apologetic smile as he lays the woman down on the couch, ensuring that she was comfortable. Your heart clenches as you remember the infinite number of times he had done that to you before.

You retreat into your shared bedroom, unable to stand the sight any longer.

Once the woman is settled, Mingyu comes brisk-walking into the room, immediately on his knees to apologise for the sudden guest.

“Seokmin invited her and she got too drunk and I was the only one sober enough to drive a car but she fell asleep the moment I buckled her in and I couldn’t wake her up and I didn’t know her address so I brought her here instead and I— I’m so sorry, I should have asked—”

You cut him off with a finger to his lips, and his eyes widen just a little bit in shock.

You’re mad. And Mingyu is being so caring to a woman you don’t even recognise and have never heard of before. You are fully aware that you’re feeling jealous and overprotective about the most trivial thing ever, but you just can’t help it.

In your defence, he had gotten jealous a whole lot of times when you were dating, too.

“It’s alright,” you whisper warmly to him, despite your true emotions. You can tell that Mingyu’s confused by the way you responded. He knew you would be upset by his actions; he was so sure you would rage out on him for bringing a woman into your shared home.

In disbelief, your fiancé changes his position so that his hands are holding yours. He’s much closer now. “No, it’s not alright,” he says with worry, confident that other emotions lingered behind that undoubtedly fake smile. “Sweetheart, what’s the matter? You never hide anything from me—”

“How would you know I’m hiding something?” you remark, supposedly in a teasing tone, trying to set aside the doubts you have about Mingyu’s infidelity. “Don’t worry so much, love.”

You know he doesn’t believe you one bit now. His brows narrow. “You’re lying—”

“Then what do you want me to say, Gyu?” You don’t normally use his nickname anymore. It was always terms of endearment — until now, at least.

You stand from your place at the edge of the bed, now towering over Mingyu’s kneeling frame. He looks up at you with confusion. You want to slap his handsome face so badly, but you can’t bring yourself to hit him when you aren’t entirely sure he was seeing someone else.

Tears start to build in your eyes, threatening to spill at one blink. You will yourself not to. “It’s almost been a year since you proposed to me, and you’ve gone well over the amount we planned to save for the wedding,” you begin explaining in a strained voice that was likely going to break any time now. “I don’t see the amount of your savings increasing anymore — ever since three months ago. And three months ago, you began ‘going to work’ earlier, when we would always go together.”

Mingyu had been standing since you finished your first sentence, waiting for a moment to explain his actions that were obviously misinterpreted. But you don’t let him cut off your train of thought. You have so much that you need to say and get off your back.

“Kissing is normal in our relationship, but nowadays I don’t feel any emotion in your kisses. Your hugs are still as comforting as they always were, but I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one on the receiving end of them.” Your voice breaks at the last bit, and right after that, a tear falls from your eye. A single tear, which rolls down your cheeks and drops silently to the carpeted bedroom floor.

Mingyu wants to pull you into his embrace and tell you ‘it’s okay’, but he’s the culprit now. He is the subject of the infidelity you were suggesting. He knows it doesn’t work that way. He can’t bring himself to say anything.

You take that as a sign of guilt. Maybe whatever you’re saying is true?

“We didn’t talk for a week, Mingyu,” you somehow manage to form coherent words, what with the increasing need to fall to the ground and let your tears flow uncontrollably. “And I’ve seen multiple women’s contacts flashing across your screen consistently, one more frequent than the others.”

At this statement, your fiancé’s hands are immediately on your upper arms, eyes searching yours for something. He looks frantic. “Sweetheart, it’s not what you think …” he trails off, toeing the line hesitantly, waiting for your signal to continue.

When you don’t say a single word or move an inch, he says, “I’ve had my doubts, too. I know you come home late because of work — you always do — but you never wake me up when you come home. You used to prod me everywhere whenever I fell asleep before you came home.”

You don’t seem like you’re going to say anything.

“I’ve been … saving up more than we’d planned, only because I wanted to surprise you. You’ve talked about getting cats ever since I could remember, but your parents never let you. The cats are supposed to arrive soon, but … Why have you been staying out so much on the weekends? You normally work from nine to one.”

Your breath hitches at the revelation. You don’t know how to reply to him. You realise you were both in the wrong. “Your parents are in town, and they have been for— for the past two months.” You raise your hand to wrap your fingers around his forearm, grounding him before he breaks down like you did.

Mingyu’s relationship with his parents is not favourable in the least. They neglected him even though he was their only child; compared him to others who were “much better than him” and “on a totally different level” than him. He managed to get rid of them when he moved to a new place during high school, where he met you. He hadn’t seen them since.

“They want to restart.” Your words are careful as you deliver them. He has been through so much with his parents that he never thought of seeing them again.

Mingyu shook and lowered his head. It was his turn to allow tears to flow down his cheeks. “I can’t,” he whispers in a broken voice — one that makes you flinch just a little. It’s been years since you heard this version of his voice.

“Where did we go wrong?” he pleads, desperate to fix the problems he doesn’t even know exist.

You reach out your free hand to wipe his tear stains away with your thumb, then you caress his cheeks for the first time in weeks. “This is normal,” you whisper, alas realising everything at once. The two of you lacked communication due to work. Then you interpreted everything wrongly and started overthinking because you think you’re drifting apart.

“It’s okay now. I understand you, and I know you understand me, too,” you mutter, leaning in to rest your forehead on his shoulder. His hands find themselves positioned on your waist, where they would always be when the both of you were hugging. “You don’t need to know why it all happened just yet. I figured it out, but you can do that later. I want to fix things now.”

You sniffed, the result of your crying earlier. “Come back, please. I want to act as if we’re teenagers again, without a care in the world. I want the undying love we promised each other under that starry night sky. I want the old you to come back. Clumsy, immature Gyu.”

Mingyu, surprisingly, laughs a little at your last statement. “I’m sure you don’t mean that,” he says in a quiet voice, still recovering from the unbelievable words that came out of your mouth previously.

“It was much better than whatever this is anyway.” He tries to suppress a hurt expression but fails miserably. You catch it before it disappears and add, “Don’t get me wrong. I love being engaged to you.”

His entire face lights up at your reassurance and you swear his previously tear-stained cheeks dried from the brightness.

As if nothing had happened and you two didn’t ever fall apart somewhere, Mingyu brings you in for a kiss. One that had all the emotion and feeling you were looking for. One that spoke all the unspoken words from the both of you. One that stitched your thread of love back together like a simple, tiny needle.

It was so easy to get back together, to finally understand the other point of view.

You worry about what would happen when one of you really starts to lose interest.

But for now, you’ll bask in the moment and enjoy your time with your lover, your fiancé and your best friend.

reblogs are appreciated ! ♡

taglist — @i520sn @piakae @enhacolor @yourfavoritefreakyhan @f3v3rs @wonwoospartyhat @lesdevoeux @wonuulvr @svtcaratlove @amazingly-amazing-loser @ckline35 @enhacolor @woozarts @famouspoetrydinosaur @kokoiinuts @reverbtunes @starnight-charmer @bimbo4jotaro @zonked_times @ahnneyong

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#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu reactions #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu fanfic #kim mingyu #seventeen #raena writes

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sailoryooons · 2 years

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Suga's How-To Guide | Interlude One | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Camboy!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: Min Yoongi has been a cam boy for a few years now. The work is easy, the money is good, and he has loyal viewers. When he approaches you and asks if you want to be his muse for a ‘how-to’ series, your view on the infamous Yoongi changes.

☾ Word Count: 9,165

☾ Genre: Friends to lovers, pwp

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit language, light mentions of insecurity from reader, explicit sexual content including unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (m. and f. receiving), ass play (small disclaimer: there's no verbal convo / visible discussion about practicing safe rimming - as with any sexual act there's a risk factor so pls don't take this as end all be all), fingering (asssss), nipple play, a lot of spit and cum and bodily fluids idk fam they fucking, recreational drinking (neither party drunk before sex), use of a color system, slut / sex worker shaming (lightly / implied)

☾ Published: October 7, 2022

☾ A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble series but it has turned into a little more. Like I have said - this does not specifically have a plot but there will be a pinch of problem solving etc in the next chapter. Reminder: this series doesn't have a goal and I'm updating it whenever I feel like it. There aren't scheduled updates for it, they just sort of happen when I'm vibing with it. Anyway, this feels like it took me 500 years to write but my god I haven't really written a chapter of something in almost a month, though I've done some oneshots. It feels really good to finally have a finished product of something, so thank you for being patient with me. Also I actually edited a chapter LOOK AT ME GO. But if you see errors well I'm not perfect lmao

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

The door to Seokjin’s apartment opens as you lean on the counter of the kitchen, drinking wine as a group of your friends pick at an exquisite charcuterie board. Taehyung swings his legs back and forth where he sits on the counter in a heated debate with Namjoon over books while Hoseok and Seokjin both move around one another in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Will you go see if that’s Yoongi?” Seokjin asks you over his shoulder. “He’s supposed to be bringing a bunch of wine, he might need help carrying it.”

Pushing yourself off the counter, you nod. “I didn’t know Yoongi was coming.”

“Yoongi always comes,” is Seokjin’s answer, though you’re pretty sure that your best friend didn’t explicitly name Yoongi in the list of people he invited over for dinner.

Monthly dinner at Seokjin’s two-story home has always been a thing. As you wander through the door toward the entryway near the living room, you try to think if Yoongi has ever missed one of the monthly dinner parties.

You’ve never noticed before.

Of course, before there wasn’t a reason for you to notice. Before, you weren’t secretly hooking up with a long-time friend on camera for his viewers. Before, you were confident where you stood with Yoongi: a good, albeit a little distant friend that you’d never really consider doing much one-on-one with, but comfortable enough to pair up in crowds.

Now as you see him hanging a rain-slicked jacket, shaking droplets of water out of his damp, ink-black hair, you have no idea what to do. Before was easy. Now is a little bit confusing, especially because you haven’t really spoken much from his little how to give a blowjob segment.

Yoongi looks the same as he always does: t-shirt stretching across a broad slope of shoulders, dark hair curling beneath his ears and resting against milky skin, his onyx eyes fixated on you where you stare at him. All forms of greeting vanish from your brain in a snap.

“Hi,” he offers, eyes dragging up and down your frame. That one look makes your fingers tighten on your wine glass with almost enough pressure to crack it. “Can I bother you for some assistance?”

Yoongi nudges two cardboard box crates full of wine with the toe of his boot. “That’s what Jin sent me for. Holy shit, where do you get all the wine?”

“Friend of a friend owns a winery and they let me pick out two bottles every month. I’m not much of a wine person but they’re great gifts and even better for dinner parties.”

Walking to where he stands in the doorway, you bend at the knee to grab one of the crates by the handle. It’s a hefty weight as you lift it, grunting slightly. “I don’t think we needed a dozen bottles of wine tonight.”

“They’re not just for Jin.” Yoongi smirks as you turn away, stomach flipping. “I brought some for you.”

“Me?” He hums in agreement as you both head toward the kitchen. “For what?”

“Helping me, obviously.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And you said you liked red sparkling wine. I happen to have a few.”

Noise from the kitchen drowns out any response you can think of. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you haul the crate up onto the counter, careful not to knock over the glass of wine next to Chaeyoung’s hand. Yoongi sets his next to you and surprises you by not moving away.

Yoongi starts pulling bottles out and assigning them to friends around the room. Taehyung takes his with greedy hands, eyes flashing as he reads the label and settles back against the counter.

When Yoongi doesn’t touch the second crate, Taehyung notices, pouting. “What about those?”

“Not for you,” Yoongi grunts, focused on pulling the cork from one of the red bottles he’s selected. Hair presses against his neck and temples where it’s still damp. Suddenly, you have the urge to reach out and brush the strands from his skin, but you don’t. “I’m sorry, was a vintage French wine not enough for you?”

Taehyung cradles the bottle to his chest and you have the answer.

Conversation settles around you. Yoongi takes your now-empty glass of wine as he asks Seokjin questions about work, filling the glass with a fizzy red. You watch him curiously. He doesn’t look at you as sets your glass down, corking the bottle.

The wine is sweet and bubbly against your tongue, with a hint of depth and a little bit of cherry. You immediately like it, wrapping both hands around the glass and nursing it like a cup of tea as you exist between the multiple conversations in the room.

In all, your group dinners usually waver between ten and eleven people. Currently, you’re eight strong with conversations ping-ponging across the room and glasses being slid across the countertop in a fashion that would rival Manhattan’s subway systems.

When you had arrived earlier to help Seokjin set up for the gathering, you’d come with shaky hands, breath held, and winced every time he began to ask you something. But Seokjin never asked you the question, which led you to believe your best friend doesn’t know you’ve been hooking up with Yoongi for his cams.

Taehyung’s arrival had been another test. The younger had been your close friend for about as long as Seokjin, and is the only member of your group who has hooked up with Yoongi both on and off camera. There’s no love lost there – they were friends during and remained friends after, completely uninterested in the other romantically.

Thankfully, Taehyung never asked you about Yoongi. He was all smiles with an already-opened wine bottle, purple-stained teeth, and a little smudge of wine on the corner of his mouth.

It is a well-known fact that if anyone is going to be a walking callout and accountability police for your group of friends, it’s Taehyung. And yet he doesn’t even look suspicious when Yoongi leans over the counter to reach for a folded piece of prosciutto, placing his hand delicately on the back of your shoulder for balance.

Yoongi’s touch is only there for a moment and yet you come alive underneath your shirt. Your heart races as you take a few gulps of wine in an attempt to steady your nerves. The room feels hotter and you shift back and forth on your feet, heat creeping into every part of you.

If he notices, Yoongi says nothing. He pops the piece of meat between rose-red lips and frowns at something Namjoon is saying.

Studying his side profile is devastating. Even from a side view, he is exquisite, the soft slope of his nose the perfect compliment to round cheeks, a plush mouth and cat eyes.

Yoongi catches you staring. You clear your throat and look upward at the light fixtures, sipping your glass of sparkling wine to look busy. He leans his elbow on the counter, facing you completely and you know you’ve caught his attention.

Shit.

A direct conversation outside of whatever you’ve been doing with Yoongi on your weekends is exactly what you want to avoid. You’re unsure how to talk to him, unsure if you’re friends or if he’s doing what you guys are doing with other people – he is well within his right to do so and you know that.

But lately, thoughts of Yoongi have been haunting your every waking thought. The way his rough hands brushed over your supple thighs and gripped them tight when he went down on you, or the greedy way he liked to suck your tongue into his mouth just after you’ve come on his tongue or the way he gets breathy just from kissing the expanse of your neck.

The list of things you think about with Min Yoongi is never-ending and they don’t go away. On more than one occasion when your phone has gone off, your heart leaped at the thought that maybe it was him wanting to do another feature. But since the blowjob, you hadn’t really heard from him.

That’s okay. You’re friends, but you aren’t the chatty kind of friends. At least, you weren’t before. Now you have no idea what you are, and the thought of having to navigate it right there in the kitchen, surrounded by other friends makes you put your glass of wine down and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

Heart hammering, you follow the steps to Seokjin’s guest bathroom blindly. The way isn’t hard to find – you’ve walked this place a million times.

With the door shut behind you, your nerves unwind a fraction. Turning a faucet, you splash some cool water on your neck. It smells like eucalyptus and mint thanks to the plugged-in scent that doubles as a nightlight. You’ve never been happier to have helped Seokjin pick them out, closing your eyes and letting the smell help you relax.

Getting so worked up over Yoongi feels ridiculous. The rush of the water past your shaking fingers relaxes you and the nervousness you felt at Yoongi’s easy touch peters out.

Being around Yoongi and doubting yourself is hard. You don’t know how to stop thinking about the one thing that has been haunting you more and more, especially when he’s in the same room as you.

You want more.

It feels like a poison, increasing in severity as you acknowledge that your interest in Yoongi has shifted from sexual curiosity to… something else. Something that makes your breath catch when he murmurs baby against sweaty, sticky skin. Something that makes you shake when he puts the weight of his hips on yours as he swallows you whole, consuming you until there’s nothing left but want.

Want want want want.

You always want him and you have no idea what to do with it.

A knock on the door startles you. You stare at the door, hands dripping over the sink filling and draining with water.

“You okay?” your stomach flips when the voice you suspected comes through the door, low and soft.

“Yeah.”

“You sick?”

“No.”

Too shaken to lie, you turn off the faucet and wipe your hands on a towel before opening the door. Yoongi is standing in the dim hallway, eyes shadowed by the lack of light. He smells like his cologne and a hint of mint.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you offer quickly. His brows pull together and you flick the light off in the bathroom to signal you’re done. “Strong wine.”

“You’ve been weird since I got here. Do you want me to leave?” Yoongi doesn’t move. Surprise fills you as you look up at him. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable or if friendship isn’t something you’re interested in anymore.”

“No!” You wince at how loud your voice is.

Thinking better of it, you flick the light of the bathroom back on and pull him inside. His hand is warm and rough in yours and you immediately don’t want to let go after he closes the door with his other hand, but you do.

“No,” you murmur and pause. Yoongi is close, the shared space is smaller now that he’s filling it with you. He leans against the tiled wall, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps strain against his shirt sleeves and you fight off a shudder. “I just… I’m sorry, you make me a little nervous.”

He hums. “You’ve been in a relationship for a while, is it safe to assume you haven’t really hooked up with a friend casually?” You nod. He offers a soft smile. It’s not as cocky and self-assured as his smirks are. “You can just be yourself. I really like you that way.”

Your eyes flit up to him. “It’s hard.”

“Why? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No! No. It’s…” You blow out air, looking up at the ceiling to take the pressure off of you. His gaze is intense. Yoongi still looks unperturbed. It feels like everything comes easily to him. “I just like spending time with you and it’s a little confusing where we stand.”

Realization settles on Yoongi’s features when you peak at him. He takes a moment, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to contemplate your words. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you decide you’ve said the wrong thing and you’re about to leave when Yoongi says, “Come home with me after dinner.”

“What?”

He smiles. “Come home with me after dinner.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to. But I’d like you to. Off camera.”

Your heart flutters and you stare at him, mouth open slightly. “Off?” You clarify. “Off camera?”

“Just us.”

“Really?”

His laugh is deep, brushing against parts of you that make your toes curl. He reaches for you, fingers gripping the bottom of your shirt and giving you a sharp yank. A gasp escapes you as you crash into his chest, hands pressed against the firmness of him as he looks down the slope of his nose at you, lips twitching.

Yoongi is beautiful, but up close you can’t focus on anything else but the way his eyes glitter, or the way the wine stains his lips the perfect shade of red or the way he has the barest hint of freckles across his cheekbones.

The way he looks at you says thousands of things and you don’t know what any of them are, but you want to. You want again.

“Yeah.” His words are barely audible. “Really.”

Without warning, Yoongi closes the space between you, pressing your lips together in a soft kiss. Before you can enjoy the sweet taste of wine and the warmth of him against you, his mouth is gone, leaving you flustered and hungry for more.

Yoongi laughs. “Don’t pout. Later. Come on, I was supposed to see if you’re sick. Dinner is ready.”

Dinner is easier after your conversation with Yoongi. Between Seokjin and Yoongi, you’re more involved in the conversation than you were earlier. As the chatter dies down after dinner and everyone enjoys their wine, you feel Yoongi’s arm press against your back as he rests it against the back of your chair.

The room is warm as you lean back, sliding your eyes to look at Yoongi. He’s not looking at you, completely wrapped up in a conversation with Chaeyoung. His arm is looped casually, skin against the back of your shirt warm through the fabric. Heat creeps up your neck into your face and you bite down a smile as you turn back to Seokjin.

If Seokjin notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Taehyung, however, definitely notices.

Taehyung’s sharp gaze is laser-focused on you, capturing your attention beyond Seokjin. His eyes meet yours and flicker to Yoongi’s hand where it rests against you before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your mouth feels dry for a split second before Taehyung grins and wags his eyebrows at you. He throws a wink your way before turning away.

A quiet, slow breath of relief escapes you. Taehyung knows something is different but doesn’t care. That is at least one less hurdle to overcome, though you know he’ll needle you about it later.

That is if he doesn’t do any digging around on Yoongi’s cam profile.

When dinner is over and there are buzzed, soft goodbyes happening at the door, you find yourself next to Yoongi who claps Seokjin on the shoulder, informing him that Yoongi will drive you home. You’re not drunk, but you hold the giant carton of wine Yoongi has dedicated to you while you kiss Seokjin on the cheek and say your goodbyes.

Taehyung presses a kiss to your cheek, slips toward your ear, and murmurs, “You’ll have to fill me in.”

You bite your lip but nod, feeling nervous as you shuffle out of the apartment with Yoongi at your back.

It’s cooler outside, the air a relief against too-warm skin. Yoongi takes the carton from you, heaving it far easier than you were as he walks down the stairs easily. Rain-scented air greets you in the parking lot, the pavement still damp. You jump around puddles, navigating to his nondescript, black car.

Yoongi opens the door with a cheeky grin. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you answer, rolling your eyes. His grin spreads when he shuts the door and rounds the vehicle to place your wine in the back and slip into the front seat.

Inside the car is meticulously clean and smells faintly of cologne and leather. Music plays softly in the background, almost imperceptible over the hum of the engine and the buzz of the tires on the highway as he drives toward his apartment.

The city is made up of stars spilled on a black canvas, winking in the night as he drives with one hand firmly on the wheel. The other slips to your thigh, giving you a squeeze. The gesture tugs at your heart and your fingers shake with a touch of excitement as you look over at him.

“How was your week?” he asks, slipping into a simple conversation.

This feels easy. You tentatively let your hand rest on top of his against your thigh. When his thumb brushes over your jeans you feel hot. You know there are goosebumps under the material, popping up every time his thumb strokes back and forth.

Though it feels wrong to compare Yoongi to your ex-boyfriend, you can’t help it. You don’t remember the last time you felt an intimate hold on your thigh or hand while driving. You don’t remember fielding questions about your favorite movie – Spirited Away – and why.

Yoongi and your ex are very different. Maybe he was different at the beginning – it was college and it’s hard to remember. Yoongi was always different though, a comforting and quiet presence in plenty of your memories.

Now Yoongi presses against your mind like glass, leaving fingerprints everywhere he touches. You don’t mind, especially when he grips your hand tight after helping you out of the car, leading you up to his apartment.

Linked hands swinging in the cool night, bottles of wine clinking softly and the squeeze of Yoongi’s fingers around yours before he lets your hand go to open his door is something you could get used to.

The thought is terrifying. There is no routine here. Nothing familiar except the smell of his candles long put out, and the dark softness of a familiar apartment. But you’ve never been here when there is no camera set up in his room. You’ve never been here without the bright halo of a ring light.

Yoongi turns on a lamp, leaving most of his home in mood lighting. He gestures to a bottle of wine and you nod, sliding onto a stool at his island countertop. He moves around his apartment silently, feet scuffing on the title as he slides a bottle out from your gifted crate to pop the cork. You grin as he pours you a modest glass.

It’s different from the wine you tried before – it’s on the drier side, but there are still notes of chocolate and heady fruit. The bubbles tickle your tongue as Yoongi pours himself a glass, coming around the counter toward you.

Genuine surprise sparks through you when Yoongi doesn’t take the seat next to you. Rather, he walks behind you wrapping an arm around your waist as he hugs you to his chest, slotting his chin against your shoulder while he sets his hand and wineglass on the counter next to yours.

Heart hammering, you turn your head to the side slightly to look at him. You can only see an up-close visual of the side of his face, but he’s stunning nonetheless. He has to be able to feel the way your heart slams against your ribcage as he squeezes you slightly, lips turned upward. His heartbeat is a steady rhythm against you, his breathing deep and soothing.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi.”

“Missed having you around.”

“You could have called.”

He shrugs a bit and lifts his wine. You watch as he struggles to sip correctly with his chin on your shoulder, making you giggle a bit. He places the wine back on the counter. “I wasn’t sure if you would want me to without the invitation of helping me out.”

“Really?”

“I mean – we’re friends but we’ve never hung out one-on-one until you started helping me. I didn’t want to push a limit by asking you to come over if that wasn’t what you wanted.”

It’s true – it was the exact same fear you’ve harbored all week. Hearing Yoongi repeat back your own anxiety melts you, the remaining stress leaving as you press your weight back into him, pivoting slightly in your seat so that you’re angled a bit better.

Long lashes blink above starry eyes. His cheeks are a touch pink – cotton candy against tan skin. Berry lips smirk at you, so close you can smell the sweet wine on his breath. You imagine his mouth tastes like dark cherries and a hint of chocolate.

“What do you want?” Yoongi’s words are breathy against your warmed skin. “Just curious. You don’t have to answer. You don’t even have to know. But I get the sense that you want something.”

“I don’t know,” you admit, eyes zeroing in on his. You could fall into those depths and keep falling forever. “I just- I just know that I want. It’s a feeling I can’t get rid of. I don’t know what to do with all of this want.”

“Give it to me,” Yoongi answers. “Give all of it to me.”

Before you can formulate a response, his lips are on yours. He turns you to face him fully, slotting himself between your thighs as his hands grip the sides of your neck. He pulls you in and you feel that want bloom again. He tastes just as you expected, sweet like wine. His kiss is hungry, matching the desire that has been gnawing at you for weeks.

Yoongi licks into your mouth, tongue ravenous as he tastes you. He pulls away for a moment, teeth pulling at your bottom lip as he catches a short breath before melding his mouth to yours again.

His hair is silk between your fingers, slipping easily as you pull him closer and closer and closer. Want pools low in your belly and you squirm in the seat. One of his hands moves toward the base of your throat, fitting his fingers perfectly on either side to give a gentle squeeze.

Both of you part slightly, exchanging breath as you pant, lips an inch apart and glossy. You open your eyes to look at him. His pupils are a little blown, looking at you like he wants to devour him. You would willingly crack yourself open for him and let him have his way with you, the craving for him overriding every anxiety and instinct you have.

“Color?” he asks, breathless. You feel lightheaded, your fingers wrapped firmly in his hair to keep you from floating away. His grip on you is firm but you want more. “I need to know.”

“Green,” you whisper. You tug his hair gently. “Please.”

It’s the only word you can think of. It’s the only word you need.

Yoongi understands. He asks nothing else of you as he reclaims your lips, nose brushing against yours as your tongue tastes the softness of his lips.

Kissing Yoongi always takes you somewhere else. You no longer feel like you’re in his kitchen, pulling and clawing at one another against the marble countertop. You feel like you’re in a place in-between, tangible and yet not quite there.

Floating forward, you let Yoongi pull you from the seat. His hands are on your waist, waltzing you toward his room. You know the steps. There’s no need to open your eyes, navigating the dark space as you slide your hands under the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin.

Yoongi’s stomach is soft, muscles jumping under your touch. He breaks the kiss, dragging spit-slicked lips across your jaw. He catches your skin between his teeth in soft nibbles, a soft sting followed by a soothing tongue.

Running your hands under his shirt, you flatten your palms. He feels warm and thrumming, full of life. You tilt your head backward, letting him suck and bite and moan into the soft flesh of your throat.

Everything is spinning. You feel unbalanced as he clutches you by the waist. You bow into him, Yoongi pressing you further and further as his teeth trace the bottom of your neck.

It feels like the bubbles from your sparkling wine are trapped in your veins. Yoongi’s hands slide to your ass, kneading you over your jeans. He pulls you in tighter, presses every part of you against him. It feels hungry and desperate, drawing a gasp from your mouth as you crush yourself against him.

A pat on your ass is your only warning as Yoongi bends slightly at the knee. You jump as he hoists you and turns, sitting on the bed with you in his lap. Your hands fly to his shoulders as he gives you the higher ground, your face hovering above his as he casts his head back to look at you, pupils blinking at you like twin moons.

For a moment, you don’t initiate kissing again. With one hand on his shoulder, you use the other to trace the veins in his neck, feeling his pulse throb under your fingers for a brief moment as you drag them upward.

Yoongi is a work of art. He lets you map the canvas of his face with the tips of your fingers. Soft, round cheeks. A strong brow bone. Gentle, rounded nose. Plush, pouted lips. You trace the faint freckles, almost invisible in the darkness of his room. You’re so close you could count his lashes as they flutter closed, a hum escaping him as your fingers brush his bottom lip.

“You’re so beautiful,” you murmur. The accidental admission makes your touch freeze, eyes flying to his to see if there is any rejection there.

Yoongi doesn’t open his eyes when he says, “Why’d you stop? Feels nice. Your touch always feels good.”

Lips twitching into a smile, you continue, finger following the curve of his jaw. Your eyes keep flickering to his mouth, though, and soon you’re diving in for more, pressing your lips to his as you give a tentative rock of your hips, grinding into him.

Yoongi’s reaction is immediate. He hums in delight, the hands resting on your ass giving a generous squeeze. He lets you play with him – fingers teasing the hair at the back of his neck, your mouth exploring the areas you’ve already traced with your fingers, your hips rocking slowly at whatever pace you desire.

Arousal pools in your stomach, low and sinking. You break briefly when he pulls your shirt over your head, a glossy line of spit connecting your mouths for just a second, broken by the shirt.

Every brush of his hands on your skin brings fire. You’ve never known touch like this, never thought you could want something so much. You want everything from him, you want to scream, you want to collapse into him on the bed.

Yoongi’s mouth is ravenous, sucking the swells of your breasts as he pulls your bra off of you. you lean backward, chest pushed toward his mouth, head cast back and eyes closed. Yoongi knows what you want, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. A moan escapes, his tongue flicking back and forth over your pert bud while his other hand comes up to squeeze your other tit generously.

Every flick of his tongue, pluck of his teeth and his moans vibrating from his lips to your chest sends you spinning. It’s an effort to cling to his shoulders, keeping you sitting in his lap instead of tumbling backward. You feel like if you let go, you wouldn’t even fall – you’d just float upward toward the ceiling, toward heaven.

The world tilts. Yoongi lays backward, careful to keep you balanced against his hips. You gasp, equilibrium thrown and feeling like you’ve crashed into another dimension. You sit up for a moment, dizzy and looking down at Yoongi while you straddle his waist. His hair fans around him, lips swollen and dark from kissing. His chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes half-lidded but pupils blown.

With possessive hands you pull at his shirt, making a sound somewhere between a huff and a whine. He chuckles, his traditional sideways smirk taking over his expression as he leans up, helping you remove his shirt.

In your dreams, you remember what Yoongi’s skin feels like. It pales in comparison to the warmth of him now, firm chest under your adventuring fingertips, his heart jumping as you lean down to teeth at his collarbone.

Under you, Yoongi is a vision. Little curses escape his lips, almost like he can’t stop them. He rolls his hips into yours, seeking friction, drawing out moans from your lips, breath drifting across his skin.

Yoongi is flushed all over and his patience for your seeking mouth is at an end. He rolls the two of you, making you squeal as your back hits the mattress and his weight sinks on top of you. It’s heavy and the air is hot between you, his lips brushing your earlobe as he nips you.

“Color?” his voice is deeper.

“Green.”

For a moment he doesn’t answer. Instead, he sucks gently on your ear, breathing low and soft as he exhales. “Turn over,” he instructs gently. “Jeans off, perfect ass in the air.”

Pulling away from you, Yoongi gives you space to pull at the button on your jeans. He joins your shuffling, tearing at his own jeans. In moments you’re both kicking the material from your ankles, giggling as you lose balance and he catches you by the elbows, placing a kiss on your nose.

“Cute,” you hum.

He grins. “Ass up,” he reminds you.

With an eye roll, you do as he says despite the excitement shooting through you. You’re on your knees shuffling to your elbows when he slaps your ass with a loud crack, making you gasp more from surprise than pain. His hand is quick to rub over the stinging flesh, pressure in his fingers firm as he massages dimpled skin.

“Sorry,” he snickers. “I couldn’t help myself, I should have asked.”

“I liked it.”

He hums and smacks your ass again, much lighter, though. “Noted.” His hand drifts toward the apex of your thighs, thumb pressing firmly over your clothed hole. The pressure is a surprise, making you moan out loud, forehead dropping to his sheets.

“Fucking wet.”

Yoongi is right. You’re soaked, the thin material of your cotton underwear clinging to your folds. The pressure of his thumb gently drifting up and down your pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back, breathing becoming shuddered as he absently plays with you.

His thumb leaves you and your eyes flutter open, already missing the pressure. He distracts you when his hands drift to the elastic waistband and asks, “Color?”

“Green.”

“Mmm. Good.”

Yoongi all but rips the underwear to your knees. He leans forward and bites the apple of your ass lightly, making you laugh as he waits for you to lift one knee at a time to slide the material off.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he asks, pulling his teeth away. The air cools your skin where you can feel his spit. “I said I like your ass.”

“So you try to eat it?”

He pauses long enough that you frown, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

It’s a vulnerable position, your knees spread apart with your aching pussy on display for him. You squirm slightly, seeing him look at you with an expression between inquisitive and hungry. “Has anyone?”

“Has anyone what?”

You shiver in the cold room, unable to sit still as the cool air hits you between the legs. Your eyes flutter lightly and you desperately want him to close the distance between any part of him and your heat.

“Eaten your ass?” That makes you open your eyes. You shake your head no and he grins, shuffling close to you. His hands go back to your round cheeks, rubbing his palms over chilled skin to warm them again. “Can I? We don’t have to. I definitely want to eat this pussy.” A hand sips between your legs, fingers deftly brushing up your wet slit. “Wanna play with your ass too.”

“Are you…” the words drift off as you lick your lips.

No one has done that before. It isn’t that you’re afraid of someone’s mouth being there or afraid you won’t like it. It’s just different and no one has offered it before and it never occurred to you to ask.

But it’s Yoongi asking now, and your curiosity is piqued.

Yoongi must sense your nervousness. He squeezes you. “We don’t have to, forget I-“

“I want to,” you cut him off. You chew your bottom lip. “I think. I don’t know what it feels like.”

He smiles. “I like it. We can always stop if you’re not enjoying it. If it’s not good, tell me.” His pointer finger presses to your clit, making you sigh as pleasure shoots down your spine at the pressure. “First, this.”

Yoongi vanishes from your vision. You feel the bed dip where he leans, his hands skating from your ass to your thighs, rubbing up and down. Your eyes close and you sink your face into his bed as he places chaste kisses on the back of your thighs.

Fear of imperfection does not exist here. None of your previous concerns cross your mind with Yoongi – not anymore. Especially when he digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs and strokes his tongue slowly up your slit.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you whine, unable to help yourself as pleasure shivers through you. It feels different from this angle as Yoongi slowly laps at your cunt with his tongue, mouth giving your pussy a gentle suck. “Yoongi- nnn.”

His hum vibrates through you as he leans in to gently pull at your clit with his lips. “My favorite fucking pussy.”

Even if you could respond, you don’t. Yoongi shoves his face in your cunt, tongue licking slowly and greedily. You can feel yourself dripping, fingers knotting in his sheets as he mouths at you.

The feeling that twists in your stomach is so tight that you feel like you sink further and further into his mattress, turning boneless. Yoongi uses his fingers to spread you wide open for him, alternating between fucking his tongue thoroughly into your clenching hole and giving broad, slow stripes up your entire pussy.

If there is one thing you can tell Yoongi enjoys, it’s eating you out. He doesn’t hide his enjoyment, his mouth messy and loud as he sucks at you. His hands do all the work holding you up as he continues to push his face into you.

Unyielding hands skim up to your cheeks. Yoongi spreads you a bit, pressing you into the bed further with the weight of his grip. With another long lick from clit to hole, Yoongi licks past your dripping entrance to tentatively flick at your perineum.

The feeling is different, making you hold your breath. His tongue continues with a few tentative licks and one of his hands leaves your ass, drifting to your clit. Your legs tremble as he applies gentle pressure, circling your clit with his fingers as he flicks his tongue against that new spot again.

It feels… nice.

A sigh leaves you as Yoongi drags his tongue upward, pressing it flat against your tight hole. You sigh as he curiously flicks over the unfamiliar spot. Each new pass of his tongue makes you shiver. You feel a little high, your cotton-candy-mind fuzzy and drifting.

Everything nerve feels like an exposed wire, sparking and jumping as Yoongi presses the flat of his tongue against your rim. The pressure feels good, something you didn’t expect. You relax further into the mattress, melted and mindless.

Noises fall out of your mouth. You're unable to stop them, lips parted and breathing sharply. Sometimes your breaths form his name, a curse, or something in between. The orgasm building in your stomach is white hot, your insides squeezing tightly as you begin to dig your fists into the bed, trying to release the tension.

“Color?” Yoongi asks. You mumble something incoherent, eyes rolling backward under closed lids. He presses a finger harder to your clit. “Color, baby. Try to tell me.”

“Green.”

You think it comes out something like grnn or gren – it's hard to tell with your words muffled in his dark sheets and the heavy feeling of your tongue in your mouth.

“All fucked out?” his words are deep as he kisses your ass cheek. “Feels good?”

“Mhmm.”

“You gonna be able to take my cock?”

You nod desperately. You want to feel the weighted slide of Yoong inside you, want to feel the pleasure as he sinks in. But you haven’t even cum from his efforts with his mouth yet and you feel dangerously close to passing out from delight.

But you want him. So you search for some clarity and come to, clearing your throat and getting up to your elbow as you gently push your ass backward him. “Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Mmm.” Yoongi dips his head down and gives a quick prod with his tongue. You drop your forehead to the bed, panting heavily and arms shaking. He pulls away briefly before spitting, making your muscles spasm as you gasp. “Cute little hole.”

You hear the grin in his voice. “Fuck - Yoongi.”

Carefully, Yoongi’s fingers go back to your clit, circling faster. Your stomach lurches. Warmth spreads over your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut, shoving your ass backward to meet his hungry mouth. It feels like you’re going to explode, your pleasure so tightly wound that you know you’ll snap at any second.

Everything clenches all at once. You gasp and hold your breath. Your orgasm rushes out of you, pussy pulsing against Yoongi’s mouth as he hungrily sucks and licks at you. You can feel his hands rubbing up and down your thighs, the press of his mouth firm and unrelenting as you tremble against the sheets.

Catching your breath is hard. Yoongi pulls away from you as your legs give out on the bed. His palms are steady, kneading the flesh of your ass as he lets you claw your way back to the world of the living. Everything feels thick and heavy in your head as you roll over, breathless.

Yoongi kisses your knees and thighs, hands never pulling away from you. You look at him and you twitch through another shiver. The air is cold against your body but you feel over-warmed by your orgasm and the heat of his gaze as he stares at you.

Surging forward, you reach for the hem of his boxers, hardened cock straining under the dark fabric. Yoongi watches with lips curved upward as you sit up and shuffle to him, hands hanging loosely at his side. You feel the burn of his gaze as you brush your fingers up his shaft, feeling him through the material of his briefs.

Yoongi hisses, making you glance up at him as you use a finger to delicately trace the outline of his straining cock. His eyes are closed, head tilted toward the ceiling in prayer. You grin, gripping him firmly through the fabric, the curve of him heavy and warm in your hand.

“Mm don’t tease,” he mumbles. “I didn’t tease you.”

“This is fun, though.” You dip your hands under the elastic waistband and grip Yoongi’s cock firmly. His hips twitch and he opens and closes his fists, his breath coming out shaky. “You’re pretty.”

Carefully, Yoongi helps you take his briefs off before letting you mouth at him. He hums in response but otherwise remains to kneeling with his eyes closed, letting you do what you want.

Watching Yoongi’s minute expressions and body language as you pull him out in full is fascinating. His lips and brows twitch when you take his cock in your palm, stroking to the tip to gather the precum there. You work your hand up and down firmly, lubricating his cock with gentle twists.

Little sounds escape Yoongi’s mouth, making your grin spread. Everything he does pulls you in. His hips thrust lightly into your hand, his mouth is parted, neck shining with a light layer of sweat. It’s addicting, the way he loses himself at your touch, completely at ease and safe in your hands.

Surging forward, you take the crown of his dick into your mouth, swirling your tongue around. He curses loudly, a hand shooting to your head. His fingers are firm against your scalp, not pushing but clinging to you desperately as you low the spit in your mouth to dribble down the sides of his cock.

The salty taste on your tongue spurs you further, sliding down a little further each time you bob your head. It’s slick and messy but you don’t care, using a combination of your tongue and hollowed cheeks to slurp at Yoongi generously. You hum around him as you pull away from him with an audible pop, a string of spit chasing you.

Yoongi, though appreciative, has had enough. He surges toward you, pulling you gently by the hair to lay you back as he crawls on top of you, lips going to your neck and jaw. He presses himself between your hips. Your thighs spread wider to accommodate him, hips sticky with sweat and leaking arousal where your skin presses flush together.

For a few seconds, Yoongi’s mouth leaves you to reach for a drawer. You don’t know what spurs you still is movement, hand wrapping around his forearm firmly. He glances down to see you, your eyes round and hopeful.

“No condom?” he asks, arching a brow.

“We exchanged test results,” you murmur. It’s true – you had done that before hooking up with him in the first place. “And I’m on birth control. I mean – we don’t – sorry. I realize that’s not-“

He interrupts your thoughts with a soft kiss. “I want whatever you want.”

“I just…” his breath is hot against your face, his nose brushing against yours. “I realize that you may have other partners, I didn’t mean to assume and-“

“I don’t.” You stare at him, heart beating wildly. “It’s just been you since we started. I’d tell you if I was sleeping with more than just you.”

“Oh.”

You feel his smile more than you see it, his lips pressing against your cheek. “So you want me to fuck you raw, huh?”

You laugh at the way he says it, shoving at him slightly. He doesn’t budge, nipping your chin. “Just wanna feel you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” His hands scrape up your sides, cupping your tits as he licks and sucks the flesh around them. “How do you want it, hmmm?”

Instead of answering him, you roll, pressing your ass toward him. Yoongi kisses up your back, hands coming to either side of you as he cages you in with his chest.

“Mmm.”

Yoongi gets to his knees as you shift to all fours, looking over your shoulder at him as he shuffles behind you. His chest is pink and red, splotchy with warmth, and flushed from effort. He strokes his proud cock a few times, your eyes zeroing in on the motion. His tip is flushed scarlet from your teasing and slick with spit and precum.

His other hand comes to dip between your legs, teasing your clenching hole lightly. You whine and shimmy your hips, pressing toward him. He tsks at you but grins before pulling you open a little more. He has your knees spread far apart as he grips the base of his heavy cock to prod your entrance.

“Fuck.” You go down to your forearms, ass higher than your head. He makes a sound between a laugh and a moan as he slips his cockhead further, running it up and down your pussy to gather your slick. You’re a dripping mess and you don’t care. “Yoongi.”

“Yeah?” He asks as he slides his cock past your entrance again. You clench around noting, frustration building. “Want it, hmmm?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you’ll get it.”

Even though he warns you, Yoongi catches you off guard as he glides his cock forward, making it a point to slide in this time. Your breath gets stuck in your lungs as you breathe in sharply, the pressure of him sliding in on one thrust sending you spinning.

Yoongi’s cock is thick, filling every part of you as he sinks to the hilt. You feel his hips pressed against you, still for a moment as your pussy flutters around him. Your hands twist in the sheets, trying to ground you as you breathe through pleasure with the barest hint of pain.

“You okay?” his voice is deep and rumbling, pulling you back to reality.

You nodded your head, forehead pressed to the bed. “Feels so fucking full.”

Yoongi let’s out a breathy sound as he pulls back, the slide of him glorious against your walls before he thrusts in again. He glides without resistance, each slow pull sparking in the softness of you. Moans drip from your tongue.

Every roll of Yoongi’s hips is measured, setting a deep, gentle-stroked pace. It feels so good, like the tip of his cock is in the deepest parts of you.

When you start to thrust your ass back to meet him, Yoongi grunts, picking up the pace in earnest, fucking into you with force. You feel the weight he puts behind it, his cock brushing your spot each time and fuck you swear his cock is hitting the depth of your stomach, so deep you’re delirious.

“Oh god,” you gasp, trying to get a single, steady breath in. It’s hard, breathing past the electricity humming along each vein and the pleasure curling its fingers in your stomach. “Fuck – holy shit – fuck.”

“Pussy feels so fucking good,” Yoongi growls. He’s fucking you harder now, the slap of his hips against your ass audible. “You’re so wet, just fucking drooling on my cock.”

“Deep,” you manage to moan out, the only word that rolls around your rapidly emptying mind.

Yoongi changes the angle, hiking a foot up so that he’s almost lunging over you. His fingers claw into your hips, pulling you backward to spear you on his cock over and over and over. It feels so goddamn good that you should have known you would be a goner for him.

And then he introduces a thumb pressed firmly to your ass, the pressure on the nerves there enough to make you fall forward. Your breath gets caught in his sheets as Yoongi’s thumb circles your tight rim, not slipping in but playing with it enough to send your eyes back in your head.

You’re unsure if you’re even participating as you skyrocket toward another orgasm. You can’t say anything, can’t think anything – you’re helpless and whining as you suddenly go taught like a bowstring, pussy clenching around his cock as you come.

Yoongi is vocal, grunting as you squeeze him. He fucks you even harder, elevating your high. A squeal escapes you as you shake from overstimulation, the pleasure blinding you momentarily and making you go numb.

Everything flips as Yoongi pulls out and rolls you. It’s not graceful, but your tangled limbs follow his hands and movements as he spreads you out on his bed, breathing hard. His hair sticks to his forehead, slick cock bobbing against his stomach as he stares down at you. In return, you blink back up at him. You’re on the border of something like subspace, the pleasure sending you into a dark, fuzzy corner of your mind.

“Color?” he asks, hands soft on your spread thighs.

“Green.” You lace one of your hands with his, squeezing. Hair sticks to the back of your neck and the sheets beneath you smell like sweat and cum but you don’t care. “Green.”

“Can you give me one more? Wanna see your face when you lose it.”

You nod and reach for him. He seems confused but leans down, letting you brush sweaty hair from his face. His eyes close at the soft touch, letting you press the pads of your fingers into damp skin as you trace the shape of his features again.

“Wanna see you too,” you admit softly.

That earns a smile from Yoongi, the kind where he ducks his head shyly and it’s all gums and crinkled eyes. You love when he smiles like that. It makes your heart flutter, interrupted only when he thrusts back into you without warning.

You gasp and he chuckles. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you manage to grit out. You arch your back as Yoongi pauses to lean back, grabbing your right leg, lifting it and shifting your position so that both of your legs are pressed together, draped over his shoulder as he leans into you. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he pants, setting a hard and fast pace as he fucks into you. “I know.”

The angle is divine. Your thighs pressed together make your pussy feel tighter. You swear you feel every ridge and vein of his cock as Yoongi fucks into you hard. His thrusts are shallower and he bites his bottom lip, focusing on the way his cock disappears inside your heat.

In this position, you can watch him. His stomach flexes with every movement, muscles jumping and twitching. His hips are glossy with sweat and cum, but he doesn’t care. One hand grips your half, fingers dimpling in your skin while the other holds your hip.

One of your hands shoots to the hand at your hip, gripping his wrist as your eyes roll back into your head. You feel your orgasm again, rapidly approaching though not as strong as the second one. You can’t remember anyone ever making you cum over and over like this, but Yoongi is relentless, chasing after it.

“Touch your clit for me baby.” He’s busy holding your legs and hip to do the work for you. He kisses your calf, gentle in comparison to the way he’s throwing all of his weight into his thrusts. “I’m so fucking close.”

Following his instructions makes you squirm. You deftly circle your throbbing clit with your fingers, the stimulation making you shudder and whine. He laughs and encourages you to keep going.

The sensitivity is replaced with mind-numbing pleasure. You can feel your third release on the horizon, your breath hitching, and your moans coming out as high-pitched staccatos.

“Shit,” he curses, head ducked down. “Fucking squeezing me.”

Something about the way he’s fighting to stay composed sends you over the edge. You almost don’t feel yourself come, everything going white-hot and tingling at once. Yoongi come with you, losing his rhythm, curses laced with your name.

Time seems not to exist in the space between you. Yoongi pulls out – you only know because you suddenly feel empty. Cum drips down your entrance to the bed, the sticky feel of it slightly uncomfortable as you lay with your head to the side, unsure how to move or do anything else.

There are no thoughts. There’s just contentment and trying to catch your breath. Everything feels hot all over, like there is a fire burning under your skin. Yoongi collapses next to you, a human furnace. You don’t move away from him though, a hand automatically seeking any part of him to keep the connection between your body.

You find his collarbone, splaying your hand across his skin. His heart thuds underneath your touch. He lays a hand on top of yours, palms sticky with bodily fluids.

As your breathing slows, you don’t know how long you lay there. It feels messy but you’re tired, and just as you begin to teeter into the depth of sleep, Yoongi stirs and nudges you. A whine escapes you, but you let him pull you out of the bed, careful hands guiding you through dim light to shower.

Yoongi doesn’t turn the lights on in the bathroom. A single salt lamp casts a soft glow, more than enough for you to safely step into the glass shower. The spray of hot water uncoils already loose muscles. Your knees buckle a bit when he leaves you, but Yoongi makes sure that you’re standing safely before he steps out briefly and vanishes into the bedroom.

Steam fills the room. You touch sore places of your skin, feel the indents left by teeth and fingers. There’s an ache between your legs – battered pussy begging for sleep, you think.

When Yoongi returns, there is a soft exchange of touches. Yoongi presses soap into your skin, you scratching shampoo into his hair, a brush of swollen lips.

Somehow it feels more intimate than the sex.

After the shower, Yoongi wordlessly gives you clothes of his. You raise a brow but he waves it off, sitting on his bed and peeling back the covers. It’s a sure sign that he wants you to sleep there, and you’re so spent that you don’t think you could fight even if you wanted to.

The shirt and pants combo smell like him and you grin, sliding into the space he’s made on his bed for you. It occurs to you that he changed the sheets and grabbed a new blanket, the ruined ones balled up in a corner near the hamper.

For a moment, you feel hesitation. Yoongi’s bed for sleeping is foreign territory to you, and you’re unsure how he sleeps: does he cuddle, or does he not like to be touched, what side does he lay on what-

Yoongi reaches for you and pulls you toward him, stopping your stream of thoughts. He tucks you into his side as he lays on his back, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you tightly.

Sleeping curled into Yoongi’s side is the best sleep you get in months. But when you wake up the next morning, flinching at the bright screen of your phone to check what time it is, everything is long forgotten when you see a single text from your ex.

So what? You’re a pornstar now? Disgusting.

You lock the phone.

Sit in Yoongi’s room as he sleeps deeply behind you for a moment.

And then you get up and leave without a second thought.

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#min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #suga bts #haliiimedewrites #bts fanfic #minors dni #bts smut #suga fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #mdni

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somer-writes · 3 months

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gday campers i decided to do a fun thing where i do a monthly wrap up. so heres the second uhhhh somers dodecannual monthly beat down

WORD COUNT: 100,005 words.

WORKS (either new or continued): 59