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libbybee · 1 month ago

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THE BENEFITS OF CARING — SA

◜pairing: astarion ⨯ fem!healer!reader ◜rating: MDNI 18+ ┊ wc: 13K ◜cw: fluff, sweet-dirty talk, wounds caring, previous sexual tension, feelings, rain, porn with some plot, first time sex, body worship, bodily fluids, piv, masturbation [F, M], blowjob, cock warming-riding, creampie, overstimulation, aftercare, morning talk.

▹ summary. one brow arched. “oh, really?” he asked sarcastically. “then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”

A/N. english isn't my native language, sorry if there are grammar mistakes.

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‘He was foolish. Reckless. Utterly stupid.’

Those words spun like a storm in your mind as you watched Astarion dash into danger. All because Gale, with one of his grandiose schemes, asked him to be a distraction—a distraction, of all things. The sheer absurdity grated on you, especially after that cocky, charming smile Astarion showed.

For all his talk of survival and his centuries-old staying alive, he seemed oblivious to the risks he took, as if he actually believed he was invincible. That careless swagger, that excitement in his eyes—it frustrated you to no end. Why does he have to be like this?

You were the only one in the camp capable of tending to wounds after Shadowheart decided to go off on her own because of a disagreement. And he knew it all too well.

He’d charged straight ahead of a group of Flaming Fists, who’d been hell-bent on killing you all after a disastrous misunderstanding. How you’d managed to escape with just minor injuries was still beyond your reach, but one thing was clear: if his recklessness didn’t kill him, you might do it yourself.

When he came to you later, sheepishly asking for a hand with his wounds, you were ready to refuse—but then he looked at you, with that pleading puppy look in his eyes that seemed to make all your frustration melt in an instant… and you just gave in.

You stepped out of your tent, dressed in your camp clothes and carrying a small bag with bandages and supplies. The moment the cold night breeze swept over your face and bare arms, you regretted your clothing.

But you headed towards Astarion’s tent. And as you crossed the camp, the faint patter of raindrops began to break the silence, with cool droplets striking the ground. You quickened your pace; the last thing you needed right now was to catch a cold.

The flap of the tent swayed gently in the breeze as you lifted your hand to brush the canvas aside and stepped in.

Inside, there was a warm setting given by some candles, and the rich scent of Astarion quickly enveloped you—hints of brandy and rosemary. And there he lay, reclining on his bedroll against some plushy pillows, with an opened book resting idly in his hands, though he wasn’t reading. His crimson eyes lifted rapidly to meet yours by the moment you entered, his brow raising slightly in surprise before a smile spread on his lips.

Astarion set his book aside with an elegant flourish, sitting a bit as his hand reached to help you enter in. “Ah, my darling... at last. I was beginning to think you’d leave me alone all nigh—” His words cut off abruptly as your palm connected sharply with his cheek.

“That’s for risking your life like a fool.” You snapped as you sat beside him on his bedroll.

He lifted a hand to his cheek and soothed the stinging sensation, shocked but faintly amused by your unexpected reaction. Before he could even part his lips to say something, you raised a finger to cut him off while dropping your bag on the bedroll with a firm thud.

“Honestly, Astarion, what in the hells were you thinking?” You demanded, already taking a cloth from your bag. You didn't even wait for him to reply and just reached for his arm, where a nasty wound marred his porcelain skin. “Running in like that without a second thought...” You murmured to yourself, furrowing your brows in worry.

Letting out a sigh, you carefully wiped the wound. “What if I hadn’t been there? Or if you’d got ki—” You shut yourself, swallowing down the knot of anxiety that had lodged in your throat since the fight ended. Memories of that night at the Tiefling’s party appeared in your mind—when, just for a moment, he’d looked at you beyond his enchanting demeanour. And how that left you feeling fragile in a way you weren’t ready to confront.

After a moment, you spoke more calmly, “You can’t keep doing this, Astarion. You can’t keep risking yourself as if you don’t matter.”

As you dabbed carefully at another cut, his face tensed in a grimace, and you couldn't hold back any longer. “I don’t care how bold you think you are, Astarion—there’s no excuse for being so imprudent. You’re not some disposable distraction, no matter what Gale or anyone else thinks.” You noticed how one of his eyebrows raised with that glint in his eyes. “And don’t even think about giving me that look.”

For once, he simply fell silent, watching how your hands moved in his arm with the cool cloth with... perhaps an affectionate expression. Then his voice dropped, gentler than you'd ever heard it. “I didn't realise you cared about me... quite this much.”

Your hands froze briefly, feeling a heat rising to your cheeks. You controlled your feelings. “Well, someone has to keep you in line, and I’m fairly certain neither of our lovely friends would be up to the task.” You clarified, somewhat exasperated, but with some gentility in your tone.

You heard a soft chuckling from him, as he was aware of the truth in your words. Gently, his hand reached out to caress yours. “It means... more than you think. To have someone caring.” As your eyes dropped to his hand and then his face, you saw past his charm for a fleeting moment, past his sly smile to the man who hadn't known kindness in far too long. “Thank you.”

Your eyes widened while your cheeks rose even more, quickly looking again to his arm as you wiped another open wound. You cleared your throat. “Just... try not to make me need to patch you up every time we get into trouble, alright? For my sanity, if nothing else.”

He gently caressed the back of your hand one last time before letting his hand fall to his lap. “Oh, and miss all the attention you give me?” He looked into your eyes, pouting a little but taking in the seriousness in your face. “Fine. I’ll be more careful, love.” His voice was laced with a teasing warmth, easing the sting of worry in your chest, making it almost worth it.

The rain began to fall harder, the deafening through of it slapping against the canvas. When you looked at his shirt, there was something about how it had dark patches of blood through that caught your attention. You could almost see the bruises starting to form and the scratches beneath the fabric.

You glanced up at him again. “Astarion, take that shirt off; I need to see what’s under it.”

He raised one of his eyebrows. “Eager, aren't we?” He smirked. “I suppose I can indulge you, darling...”

You gave him a soft smile for his tease, speaking exasperated but amused. “I’m sure you’ve got wounds under there, Astarion. Just take it off.”

His smirk widened, clearly enjoying. “Such impatience... Very well, love. You’ve earned the right to see what lies beneath.” Then he reached for the hem of his classic white shirt, the delicate fabric gathering in his hands before he tugged it over his head in one fluid move, slightly disheveling his curls.

The shirt slipped away, revealing his chest and the sharp definition of his collarbones. The flickering candlelight danced across his skin, casting shadows over the subtle contours of his physique. His movements were unhurried as he was offering you a glimpse.

As he tossed the garment aside carelessly, it landed in a heap near the edge of the bedroll. The air between you seemed to shift. His crimson eyes showed a slight hint of vulnerability that he quickly masked with a smirk.

“Better?” He drawled, his usual charm creeping back. “Is the view satisfactory, or are you planning to strip me further?”

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth blooming in your cheeks betrayed your mock tiresomeness. “Oh, stop. I’m only trying to see how severe the damage is. Not everything has to be an invitation for your theatrics.” With the cloth in hand, you pressed it gently to a scrape on his shoulder.

Trying to focus solely on the task at hand, you tried not to stare too long at the sight before you, but the way you moved closer left a sense of intimacy that you couldn't quite ignore. The quiet hum of your fingers tracing his chest and the lines of his abdomen made you feel the way his skin seemed to breathe beneath your fingertips. And you could swear that you heard almost inaudible sighs from him when your hands brushed over particularly tender sites.

The storm raged harder, hammering relentlessly against the tent as if the heavens insisted on being heard.

The wounds were worse than you thought—a mixture of gashes and dark bruises, a few of them with a touch of infection already setting in. Your eyes faltered briefly when your heart tightened at this sight as you moved from one injury to the next, cleaning them.

Astarion's gaze remained fixed on you, changing between your hands and your preoccupied expression. For once, the usual, confident, and charismatic vampire who normally danced with danger and seductiveness had taken his mask off. Showing the face of someone who, for once, truly trusted in someone else and allowed you to take care of him.

His breath caught when you reached a particularly deep gash along his abdomen, and you had to steady yourself to not flinch with him. The sound of his discomfort sent a tremor through your hands. Still, he kept his endurance and didn't flinch away from you; this only made your chest ache more.

He broke the silence with a low mutter with an odd weariness. “You should stop doing that.”

Your fingers froze, halting mid-motion. “Stop what?” You asked, but not looking up, trying to maintain your focus.

“Caring so much,” he replied quietly. “It doesn’t suit you.”

You stilled, taken aback by his words, before you finally looked up to meet his gaze. “You’re a fool.” You shot back.

He let out a soft laugh, but it wasn’t the usual mocking sound; no, it sounded with a subtle trace of gratitude, or perhaps something far more complicated for him.

“You know,” he added after a long moment, his voice lower now, “I’m not used to this. To someone looking after me.”

You let your hands rest on his waist, looking up once more. “I’m not doing this because you’re special,” you replied with a snark tone. “I’m doing it because you’re an idiot, Astarion. And if you keep getting yourself hurt like this, I might just tie you up next time to keep you out of trouble.”

His lips showed that smile of his again, though more tenderly. “Ah, my very own personal keeper. What would I do without you, darling?”

After you grabbed and secured a bandage around his waist for his deep wound, you allowed your hands to stay on his body moments longer than necessary. You could feel the enveloping air between you; the silence was tense, though neither of you moved or said anything. Astarion's pupils were dilated looking at you, and they held a certain depth that seemed to pull at you.

Your mind was still so wrapped up in the care you'd given him that you barely noticed the shift in your own position until you relaxed to adjust the posture of your body. That's when the realisation hit you like a punch to the gut—you were straddling him.

Your knees rested on either side of his hips, and you could feel the constant pressure of his pelvis against yours in a way that felt far too out of place.

A sharp breath caught in your throat, and you instinctively stiffened while a rush of hotness flooded your chest. Your mind started to race: ‘How long have we been like this? How had I not noticed this before?’ The tightness of your hips against his, the way your bodies seemed to fit together so... naturally—it was impossible to ignore.

But Astarion? He didn’t falter even for a second. His body remained relaxed beneath yours, with some sort of steady confidence, like he had no intention of acknowledging the shift in the dynamic. There was the faintest shift in his posture, a barely perceptible tightening of his grip on your thigh, but it went away in an instant.

“Getting comfortable, darling?” He spoke smoothly, with a dangerous and devilishly enticing tone. His lips curled into that signature grin of his, but this time it was different; there was no teasing edge, no light-hearted mockery. Instead, there was a subtle weight to it, as it appeared to hold more meaning than it usually did.

“I must admit, I didn’t think you’d be so forward, love.” He purred. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his voice, the quiet thrill touring his body of the intimacy at that moment.

The hand on your thigh slowly slid to your hip, allowing his fingers to linger there briefly before trailing up to your waist. You straightened up immediately, your face flushing while your pulse hammered in your chest because you had never been this close to him before—really close. Too close.

“I wasn't... trying to be forward...” Your voice tumbled, feeling a nervous tension twisting in your gut. Your words stumbled over each other, sharper than you meant them to be. “I was just trying to—”

“Trying to cure me, I know,” he interrupted, his soft chuckle rolling over you like a sensual caress. “Though, love, such a delicate position for a healer. Wouldn’t you agree?” His voice dipped, low and molten, sharpening his smile into something far more dangerous. His eyes were locked on yours, unfaltering, almost daring you to react.

Everything else blurred into insignificance. All you could hear was the erratic pounding of your own heartbeat and his breathing, far too steady for the situation.

“I...” you started, but the tightness in your throat made it difficult to say a word. You didn’t know what to say; you didn’t even know if you wanted to break the silence hanging between you. “We should probably...” The sentence fizzled out, as useless as your resolve to push away the growing tension.

Before you could even think of anything else, the heat of his touch burnt through the fabric of your pyjamas, making your skin tingle in its wake. His hand slid up your side, grazing your ribs and the curvature of your breast with his thumb before setting at your waist to grip it firmly. The way his thumb slowly began to stroke the curve of your waist only made your nervousness get worse. His touching wasn't just casual—it was as if he wanted to test your reaction.

A rush of sensations made it impossible to think clearly, your body betraying you. His posture—his other elbow propped for support—the constant pressing of his crotch against yours, his hand on your waist—it all pulled you into a current you weren’t sure you could fight.

“Go on,” he purred with the faintest hint of mockery. His gaze moved to your lips, as though he could draw out the answer with nothing but his stare. His fingers flexed slightly against your waist, the pressure sending a ripple of heat skittering through you. “What was it you were saying? Something about what we should do?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes, instead focusing on your hands as they rested awkwardly near his chest, fingers twitching. The heat building between your thighs crept upward, spreading through your belly like a forest fire. You felt flushed and shivering, not just from the closeness but from the way he was glancing at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth his attention.

You weren't prepared for this; you hadn't anticipated that the barriers you thought were between you would collapse into nothing so abruptly.

Astarion’s voice cut through your thoughts like a blade. “Are you going to keep me here all night, love?” His tone kept low, almost a growl.

You struggled to string together coherent thoughts before saying something. “I didn't know you wanted... I didn't think...” The words stumbled out again, barely audible as your voice betrayed you.

His smirk deepened, and his crimson eyes held a predatory gleam that made your stomach twist and flutter all at once. “Don’t play coy with me, darling.” His voice was velvety enough to bury each word into your ears. “I know you’ve thought about this—about me. I can see it, feel it. You want this as much as I do.” You tried to look away to escape his gaze, but it was impossible. His eyes held you captive, burning with something raw and unapologetically ravenous.

Your eyes widened as he tugged you closer with a calculated ease that made you perfectly aligned with him—causing your pussy to rub directly on his cock. The feeling made every inch of you stand on edge, your body betraying you with a tremor you couldn’t suppress. Then he reclined back against his pillows more comfortably before his other hand glided up your thigh. “Relax, darling...” He purred lowly, his tone a sensuous command that curled around you like smoke.

You became instantly conscious of the burning sensation beneath you—the growing hardness pressing insistently against your cunt. Your thoughts whirled, panic and desire colliding in a tumult. ‘How did I end up like this?’ But the answer was painfully clear—he had led you, and you’d followed without resistance for being distracted caring for him.

“I... I wasn't planning... this.” You forced yourself to meet his gaze, but his eyes—bold and piercing—made it impossible to hold.

One brow arched. “Oh, really?” He asked sarcastically. “Then perhaps you can explain why you’re straddling me like you are, love.”

His hardening length was impossible to ignore, even through the barrier of clothes, the sensation making heat surge through you in torrents. You swallowed hard. “I… It’s only because you moved me—” You tried to protest, but Astarion pressed a finger to your lips to silence you before leaning in to kiss your neck. “Moved you, did I?” He teasingly whispered against your skin. “Then don’t even think of moving, love... you're not going anywhere.”

Those words echoed in your ears. You knew you’d been fighting with your feelings since that night with the tieflings—when you’d seen him in his tent with his wine focused entirely on you, ignoring everyone else. You’d told yourself it was just the wine, the moment, but now you could hardly keep up the pretence.

For a hesitant moment, you thought about pulling away—but then his expression softened, almost looking if his black pupils were begging for you to stay with him, to kiss him when he noticed your intentions as you stared at his lips and slowly you hovered them with yours; the distance seemed endless.

With a small effort, you leaned in and kissed his lips, and you could feel how he smiled, clearly delighted by your boldness and the way your hand curled at his nape to draw him to you. The motions of your lips were slow, unsure. But as soon as you felt his opening slightly against yours, the shyness began to fade.

His hands clamped on your hips to pull you closer until there wasn't any space for doubt or even space untouched between you, and you could feel him—all of him. The pressure of his cock perfectly aligned with your entrance provoked you to gasp against his mouth; even in the hesitation, he gave you no choice but to lean into him, to crave more and push past the uncertainty that had held you back.

He just seemed to want more, that he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth felt as if it were burning yours. The kiss started slow and tentative, but that didn't last. His lips grew more insistent as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and parting yours with ease to slip his tongue between your lips in a hurry. This made you pant by the initial shock of it, racing your heart. Your thoughts began to dissolve, leaving only the moment, and you simply surrendered to the sensation.

The swipes of his tongue weren’t gentle at all. He was implacable, exploring your mouth, moving deeper. His kiss wasn’t just a kiss—it was an invitation, a way to encourage you. And as you accepted, you met his tongue with your own, unconfident at first, but he gave you the courage to match his boldness. Astarion groaned softly, a deep sound that reverberated in your lips, sending an intense pulse of arousal to your pussy.

There was no going back now, and you knew it. This was it—the pull to him, the demand of his touch, and now you could feel the indescribable connection that had been building between you from the very first time your eyes had met.

His lips pulled away just enough to speak. “You’re mine tonight.” He groaned roughly as his hands drifted to the sensitive space between your inner thighs, cupping your pussy and slowly kneading it with his fingers. “And when I’m through with you, you won't even remember what it felt like to be without me.”

Your chest tightened as his words hit hard, but you found yourself barely able to even think, unable to do more than just nod as you looked down at him. Your lips parted while you took your breath, while his hand moved with a voracious elegance, dragging his fingertips along the seam where your trousers joined. The air was charged and burning before he did what he did.

With a sharp tug, Astarion tore the fabric between your thighs. The sound was violent as the seams of your trousers gave way under the force of his hands, almost merciless. The rip clearly was strategic—exposing just enough to reveal what was hidden.

But the regret rushed over you the moment the cool night air hit your exposed area. You hadn’t been wearing any panties, and now, with nothing to shield your nakedness, you felt scandalously vulnerable. You cursed yourself for all the nights you decided against wearing anything, thinking no one would notice. Now, the decision turned painfully foolish.

His eyes dropped, and his pupils dilated further at the sight of his no longer hidden treasure, curling his lips with delight. A low laugh escaped his throat. “Well, well,” he purred, distinctly pleased. “It seems you’ve been planning this all along, haven’t you? No panties? How deliciously bold.”

You mentally damned your stupidity, your cheeks heating in embarrassment. The simple choice of not wearing underwear before going to sleep now felt like an invitation, one he seemed all too eager to accept.

The shock of it left you momentarily motionless and without words, feeling the cool air kissing the exposed skin of your thighs and your core. His hand brushed over the tear he had just created, grazing his fingers very close to where your pussy was.

“I can still see that shy little spark in you, even now.” He talked again, locking onto you. The playful smirk on his lips softened as he watched the blush across your cheeks. “It's almost... adorable.”

You tilted your head slightly, trying to escape his penetrating stare, a nervous pout forming on your lower lip as your hands clutched at his shoulders for some sort of stability. But a sudden gasp escaped your lips when his middle and ring fingers slid between your folds with smooth precision, parting them easily. His fingers let your clitoris be positioned right between both; your sensitive bud responded instantly after so many winters without another’s touch, and your grip on his shoulders only grew firmer.

When they finally clamped on either side of your clit, his fingers massaged it with a slow back-and-forth motion, sending an uncontrollable shiver through your nub. Your hips instinctively moved due to his stimulation, causing a soft tremor in your pelvis as the tingling sensation built. The exact pressure he exerted made you melt further, caught in the heat of it and masking your timid instincts.

All swipes of his fingers coaxed your body to react in ways you could barely control. Astarion's smile widened as he enjoyed watching the last traces of your shyness slowly dissolve beneath his touch. Eventually joining his thumb to the dance, finally rubbing directly over the skin covering your bud before pressing down in slow circles that made your thighs tremble against his hips.

“Just like that…” He murmured approvingly. “Feels good, doesn't it?”

His fingers slid forward slightly, pressing his palm against your clit while his middle finger traced the outline of your entrance. The anticipation held you captive, instinctively arching your hips, silently urging him to end the wait. And then, with tantalising slowness, he slid one finger inside you, the feeling both stimulating and exhilarating all at once. The filling was perfect—gradual but firm—and soon, a second finger joined to push in and out without pulling them out entirely.

With each slow thrust of his fingers, his palm rubbed on the skin of your clit, adding a delicious, pleasurable dual stimulation that sent spasms through your pussy, making it impossible to stay still. The strokes were maddeningly controlled, his fingers reaching and curling deeper with every smooth push, as though he knew exactly what you needed and how to give it to you. Astarion’s gaze never left your face, his piercing crimson eyes bright with pleasure, absorbing every sigh and shiver you produced.

“How sensitive, darling...” He breathed softly as he drew closer to meet your lips with his, causing a sweet pulse to your core, intensifying your throbs.

He angled his hand just slightly to reach deeper, and you gripped him tightly. You found yourself helplessly following the increasing tempo he set, encircling his neck with your arms to pull him closer and losing one of your hands in his silky curls.

Astarion's smile turned avaricious against your mouth, sensing your walls vibrate and deliciously clench around him, drenching his hand in just a few minutes. He curled his skilled fingers inside to stimulate a sensitive spot you didn't know was there, just perfectly, his touch implacable against your clit while he fucked your cunt.

Your mouth was being claimed with an eagerness that made your blood boil—he was devouring you in the kiss. His smooth lips moved against yours, insistent and hungry, coaxing you to open for him as he gently bit your lower lip. As you complied, his tongue rapidly swept in, tasting your saliva mingling with his. It was dizzying; your senses flooded with the taste of him and the coolness of his pale skin, creating a high contrast against your hot, wetting pussy and just adding to the sensations.

A low groan gurgled in his chest as his lips pressed harder, the tips of his fangs grazing your bottom lip before pulling back slightly. Just to slam his mouth to yours again with even more fierceness after taking his breath. His fingers curled more rapidly against that delicate spot within you, utterly submerging you in the magnetic pull of his caresses and the incredible hunger in his kiss.

He pulled away, his lips brushing against yours as he did, a soft, breathless hum escaping him. “I wonder,” he began, “how long it will take for you to break, darling.” His eyes glinted as he continued. “But I’m in no rush. We’ll savour this. I will…”

Your grip on him tightened, slightly pulling his hair as your hips rocked back and forth with the pace he set, lost to the growing pleasure he built for you. His touch was relentless, almost coaxing you to the brink, but every stroke was carefully calculated, carefully slow to keep you teetering, hovering in a blissful tension that left you frustrated.

Astarion watched you with predatory attention, centred on the slightest whimper that escaped your lips, as well as that exquisite pussy between your thighs. The very sight of you brought him as much pleasure as his hand brought to you.

Your breathing grew ragged as your body instinctively sought more of the pleasure he promised. The fullness of his fingers, though they were quite close to what you needed, only left you aching for more. You could feel your desire intensifying with every subtle movement, letting your hands drift lower in his chest with the need to touch, to claim him as yours. ‘At least for tonight’.

“Astarion... more, please... I want your cock inside me.” You pleaded, looking into his eyes with desperate want. “Take off these trousers...” You added, letting your fingers trail down his abdomen to where his waistband circled just below his waist, urging him to remove the last barrier between you.

He held your gaze, his eyes smouldering as a slow, indulgent smile appeared on his face. “Oh, you’re even more delicious when you beg...” He honeyed with approval, pulling his fingers out of your pussy and watching with keen interest as you trembled at the loss, the delicate quiver of your hips only adding to the pleasure he found in your vulnerability.

Before doing so, he slowly brought his dripping fingers from your cunt to his mouth, taking great pleasure in licking them clean and savouring the sweet, intoxicating juices made by your body. A soft, pleased hum escaped him as his eyes gleamed with wicked glee as he drank in the sight of your flushed face.

Only then did his hands drop to the waistband of his trousers. He didn’t rush, of course; instead, his movements were maddeningly slow as he began to slide the fabric down. The gleam in his eyes told you everything—he was savouring every second, drawing out the moment just to test your patience, fully aware of how much it would irritate you.

But just before sliding them for once and for all down, he stopped within a second. His eyes trailed their way down to your breasts, marked against the cloth, still covered while his torso was bare since you made him take off his shirt; the contrast stirred something within him. His fingers gently trailed along the fabric of your shirt, brushing down and against the edge, before his hand slid inside to grip your waist.

He looked back up, meeting your gaze with desire and playful intent. “Darling,” he purred, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you join me in shedding the rest of my clothing?” His eyes gleamed as he showed his damned puppy-like eyes for the second time that day. “I want to feel all of you against me,” he added, his tone rich with faked sorrow as his lower lip made a soft pout. “Take it off, my love...”

Oh, this definitely made you smile, feeling a spark of mischief as you looked down at him. You could tell he hadn’t quite anticipated the thought that crossed your mind.

You let your fingers drift along his bare chest again, savouring the coolness and smoothness of his porcelain skin before cradling his cheek, taking in every detail of his expectant look.

“Well,” you leaned close, letting your lips just a few inches away from his. “After tearing my favourite trousers,” you whispered, trailing your thumb teasingly across his lower lip, “don’t you think it’s only fair that you ask me—politely—to take the shirt off?”

Astarion raised one of his brows; his smile wavered for only a moment as he considered your request. Then, his expression softened, his smirk playing again on his lips as his hands slid up your sides under your shirt. “Oh, I see,” he replied smoothly, “you want me to beg, do you?”

You narrowed your eyes playfully. “Yes.” You savoured every single letter that slipped from your lips. “I am dying to hear you beg, Astarion.”

A moment passed before he gave a soft chuckle, and his gaze, brimming with delight and want, locked with yours. “Please, my love.” He said lowly, needy. “Let me see those surely precious breasts you must have. I’ll be good, I promise.” He pleaded sweetly. “Take it off... just for me...”

His words only made you want to tease him more.

The diabolical glow in your eyes grew as you leaned forward, letting your thumb trace the line of his chin. You could feel the light tension in his posture, the way the red in his eyes darkened, his lips parting just a bit as he waited for... maybe a kiss? He wasn't quite sure with you. His hands on your waist tightened to pull you a bit closer, but you resisted, holding him at bay.

“Good, you say? I’d like to see that.” You tilted your head as if considering his plea. “Are you sure you’re capable of it?” Your fingers slid down his chest again, skimming over his nipples with your fingers just enough to provoke him a small shiver.

“More than capable.” He replied roughly for the restraint you demanded of him, but not being entirely sincere.

You breathed slowly as you caught his lie, but somehow, your desire for him only grew, knowing he didn’t intend to ‘be good’ with you at all.

Your hands went down to lift the hem of your shirt, but you didn’t pull it up yet. Instead, you let your fingers there. “If you want it so badly, Astarion,” you said softly, “you’ll have to ask again. Nicely.”

His expression shifted to one of purely wanting as he tightened his hands on you. “Please, my love,” he replied in a low tone. “Take it off.”

Finally, you slowly lifted your shirt to reveal your torso and the defined curves of your breasts, drawing the fabric over your head to set it aside on his bedroll and finally being completely naked to his eager stare. Astarion’s eyes glistened with a glow that spoke volumes as he devoured every detail of your flushed skin like a long-awaited treat. You couldn’t help but arrange your hair and adjust your bracelets; you felt a mix of nerves and exhilaration at his intense attention.

Astarion’s hands reached for your breasts with a speed that almost startled you, sinking his fingers into your supple flesh as he kneaded it and leaned forward. His lips found one of your nipples, capturing it along with a portion of your breast, sucking passionately before planting a warm kiss above your nipple. He repeated on its twin, savouring your body before finally looking up; the surprise etched on your face, the blush on your cheeks, and the widening of your eyes seemed to light pride in his gaze.

Astarion revelled in the comfy warmth of your flesh under his cool hands as he continued to knead and massage your breasts as thoroughly as it was slow. Trailing his lips down to run messy kisses along your sternum before returning to one of your breasts once more. He opened his mouth, homely, to get your flushed breast inside, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it, rumbling an eager hum. His hands went to your waist and your other breast to take care of it too, holding you as you leaned against him with a soft moan escaping your lips. He seemed almost like a starved child desperately seeking milk from his mother's breast.

After a long, leisurely moment, he pulled away with a final and slow brush of his tongue over your nipple; his lips glistened with saliva from his attention. A desire that seemed to consume him was burning in his eyes, and when they met yours, a slow smile spread across his face. “You know,” he murmured, “I could lose myself in you like this, so easily.” His fingers slowly contoured your waist. “But I’ll need more than just this beautiful view.” He leaned in to graze his lips on your ear and whispered, “Imagine, darling, how it’ll feel when I’m deep inside you—how I’ll make you forget everything else, until all you can think of... is me.”

Your body received a delicious tremble, an almost inaudible moan escaping your lips because of the intensity of his voice saying those words to you. Your fingers tangled in his hair to pull him closer, feeling yourself getting wetter. The simple thought of him inside you, fucking you until your legs couldn't respond any more, grew your pulse faster.

As his hands wandered lower, the ache between your thighs grew unbearable—the need to have his cock growling in your throat; you could barely stand it. Impatiently, you moved to straddle his thighs, finding with your hands his waistband.

“I need you, Astarion.” Your plea spilt out unprocessed, begging for him to end the teasing and give you what you craved. “Please take them off. I can’t wait any longer. Finish what you started.” The final word fell from your lips almost like a cry, leaving no doubt that you were beyond ready, beyond wanting. You needed him—now.

Astarion chuckled as he looked at your hands, tracing his abdomen. He laid back slightly against his soft pillows, clearly enjoying how you were so eager for him, but he didn’t move anyway. Instead, his eyes flickered to your fingers as they were about to start tugging his waistband, and his lips curled up.

“Please, Astarion.” You pleaded again. “I can't take it any more. Stop teasing me. Take them off. Please.”

He hummed, amused, with a wicked glint in his crimson eyes. “Ah, so desperate, are we?” His eyes slid downward, pausing to take in the way your pussy soaked through his fabric, already dripping as you set yourself on his thighs. “Look at that sweet little cunt of yours, dripping for me already.” As soon as he finished speaking, he let out a soft chuckle. “Can’t wait to feel me inside, I see.”

You furrowed your brows in some annoyance at his incessant chatter that only made your patience thinner. But then, his demeanour shifted nonchalantly, capturing your attention when he propped his hands up on the bedroll and lifted his pelvis fluidly, giving you room to slide his trousers out of his legs.

“Help yourself, darling.” He purred softly with that grin on his lips.

You couldn’t stop yourself from glancing down, captivated by his posture. When your eyes fell to his crotch, where your hands had settled either side, you saw the clear shape of his rigid cock outlined beneath the fabric, straining against the material and angled a little to one side. The thickness and length were evident, making your entrance painfully clench around nothing and heat your cheeks.

‘How didn't I look at it before?’ Your breath hitched at the graphic, raw sight of it—exquisite and so irresistibly tempting. The aching sensation in your pussy grew, not just from the visual but from the rush of desire that quickly followed. Despite yourself, your eyes went back to his face, finding that same teasing, excited expression as though he were daring you to take the next step.

As you began to slide your fingers inside the waistband of his trousers, you brushed lightly his skin, sending a shiver to your fingertips.

And then, pulling his trousers down, you slowly revealed more inches of his pelvis and his white curls, and you could feel his intense gaze smouldering into you. His cock twitched against the fabric, building your excitement until it sprang free, making you inhale sharply at the sight. Your eyes traced his exposed skin as you slid the fabric the rest of the way down his legs. A soft rustle marked their removal from his ankles, and he lay naked before you.

His erect length was blushed and visibly soft, with subtle veins running up from its base, contrasting sharply against his swollen, rosy head. The pale expanse of his skin was almost luminescent; only the tip of his cock seemed all the more vivid. And there was precum already seeping from its slit, a trail that slid down to his sac.

For a brief, delicious moment, you simply stared. The long shape with a slightly tapered head was just stunning, and it made you realise just how perfectly he would enter and fill you. You couldn’t help but let your fingers drift to your clit, stimulating lightly to ease the relentless ache building. The wet heat spread between your thighs, growing stronger as you took in every detail.

A subtle sigh left your lips, caused by the strong beating of your puffy bud against your fingers. You traced the ridges of his hips with the other hand before brushing over from the base to the tip of his cock. It was warm, soft but firm with the ridges of its veins, and the precum that gathered there only added to its silkiness.

Your mind raced with thoughts you hadn’t fully allowed yourself to process—how new this was, how thrilling and unfamiliar it felt yet so drawn by it. Astarion was nothing like the lovers you had before. You didn’t have a long list of conquests, and that made your inexperience clear. But the way he looked at you and how his moves commanded every piece of your attention drew you deeper into something you were both eager and frightened to experience.

Without thinking any longer, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, feeling its thickness as you slowly began to stroke him in sync with your own stimulation, smoothing with your thumb the head with each pass. His lips allowed a low, appreciative sigh to escape him, sending a wave of emotion through you and racing your pulse. And with one final glance up at his face, you slowly positioned yourself between his thighs to lay down and let your stomach rest on his bedroll.

As you let your lips hover near the tip of his cock, you could feel the heat radiating from him and smell the intoxicating scent of his arousal as he smelt yours. You could almost drool at the sight before you—how you see the shift in his expression—from humour to impatience. The anticipation was exhausting for both of you, but you didn’t rush. Instead, you kissed the tip tenderly, feeling the weight of him against your lips before letting your tongue slip out where his glans started to the high point. Tasting the warmth and saltiness of his cock because of his precum.

You felt the coolness of the storm kissing you and of the bedroll beneath your stomach, grounding you as your hands remained on him, steady and assured. Astarion’s thighs tensed under your touch, caught between the impulse to take control and the pleasure of simply letting you explore at your own pace.

Each time your thumb swept over his tip, his cock twitched, responding to the rhythm of your touch and your lips. You swirled your tongue around his head, licking clean the precum that had gathered there and along his length. The taste was different than you expected—rich and heady, like a Vermentino wine, lingering on your tongue in a way that was deeply intriguing.

The low sounds slipping from his lips spurred you on as you pressed messy kisses to his length and tip, tracing with your tongue the subtle lines and ridges of his shaft. His sharp intake of breath told you just how deeply he felt every small touch, and the sheer pleasure in that knowledge emboldened you further.

“Mm, look at you,” he purred, honestly surprised and pleased. “Not so shy now, are we, darling?” His words were meant to tease as always, but the note of admiration was unmistakable, making clear just how captivated he truly was.

Your eyes met his quietly before slowly lowering your mouth to take him inch by inch. The stretch of him filled your cavity as you went deeper, feeling his rigidity slide against your tongue. You let inside more of him until you felt his tip reach the back of your throat and the hair on his pelvis brushing your nose. His reaction, the involuntary twitch, and the low hum from him sent a thrill through you as you adjusted him inside your mouth, savouring the moment.

As you set a slow up-down with your head, Astarion’s lips started to make soft, broken sounds that were like a lyrical to your ears, urging you to continue. His hand reached out to rest on the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he let out a silent growl. The anxiety in his grip was obvious, yet he kept his touch gentle, guiding without forcing and letting you take the lead, trembling under your care.

You slid your hands down his thighs, feeling the taut muscles beneath your fingers and feeling how his body responded to you. Each time you drew him deeply, your tongue caressed his lower vein, lavishing attention on every inch of him that his cock met with an appreciative palpitation.

Astarion moaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “Slow down, my love... Let me enjoy this.” He breathed as he allowed you to fully take him, his hips flexing slightly. His fingers tightened slowly in your hair, a silent encouragement for you to continue as he gave himself completely over to you.

With one hand still supported on his thigh, you drifted the other to his sac to massage it gently inside your palm. The action caused a louder moan from him, his hips jiggling involuntarily as you kept your mouth moving steady and more slowly, never breaking your rhythm. His low groans came quicker and even rougher, sounds of pleasure spilling freely now like an invitation to go on, filling the tent and dispersing the strong rain outside.

He moved his hand from your hair to your cheek and stopped you momentarily, cradling it in a surprisingly tender gesture as he glanced down at you. “Look at me while you do it, my darling...” He sighed, gently caressing you. “Feel how hard you make me...” His head fell back once more, unable to hold back a guttural growl as you continued with an intensified sucking, feeling his cock pulse and grow impossibly hard against your tongue.

With a measured squeeze, you tightened your grip on his sac, rolling it delicately with your fingers while your other hand remained anchored on his thigh. They trembled involuntarily, just like his cock, each movement drawing a delicious reaction until he could no longer keep still, his hips instinctively arching towards your mouth.

His hand returned to the back of your head, gripping tightly as your tongue traced the underside of his cock. All of him seemed to shiver under your touch, and he still allowed you to take control, guiding him into this sweet, little death.

But, after a few moments, you let his cock slip free from your lips with a slow drag, watching it emerge slick in your saliva and instantly cling to his lower belly because of its hardness. The dampness left a glistening trail between your mouth and him, breaking only as you leaned back, lifting a hand to wipe the last of the moisture from your mouth. He let out a disappointed sigh at the loss of you, then looked down to watch how you had left him all reddish-coloured with a sheen because of his precum mixed with your saliva.

Without a word, you rose on your knees and moved to straddle his hips, feeling the firm press of his thighs beneath your ass cheeks as you settled your weight onto him. His hands instinctively moved to your waist, gripping your sides in a way that felt almost impossible to avoid.

You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing between your folds—a solid, delicious presence. Each pulsate of its head against the own palpitations of your puffy bud felt incredible.

Bracing your hands against his chest, you pressed down gently and took a moment to enjoy the feel of him, tracing the lines that defined his chest with your fingers. His eyes were locked on you, watching the way your pussy just wrapped around his cock.

Gradually, you began to move your hips, grinding down your clitoris onto his glans with a slowed tempo that turned faster. The friction was amazing as you brushed against his slick skin, adding a sensuous layer of lubrication as you moved back and forth against his perfectly nestled cock. You could feel yourself drenching him wetter, mixing your juices with the slickness left from your previous oral.

His hungry gaze roamed over your pelvis, tightening his grip on your waist as he let out a rough sigh, savouring the way your pussy slid so enticingly along his shaft until you leaned forward. Repositioning your weight on one hand, you reached down to trace your fingers along his length, wrapping around it to guide it upwards. You pressed the tip on your entrance, dragging it slowly along your slit, feeling it start to pulse against your inner lips. His lower lip formed a slight pout as you continued to tease, drawing the moment out with almost cruel patience.

But with a final pass, you positioned him straight to your entrance, vacillating just on the edge, and looked at his face to watch his reaction—the way his eyes were focused on your pussy, waiting for you to cut the last bit of separation. Then, with a slow downward, you began to sink him inside, feeling the exquisite stretch his tip made as he filled you, inch by inch, making your walls instantly clench around him for the sudden fullness.

He let out a pleased moan, now holding harder your hips as you settled onto him completely, feeling so deep and stretching you deliciously wide after so many years of solitude. The warm pulse of him between your walls, every subtle movement of his length—an insistent throb—made you simply sit there for a moment. Letting yourself adjust to the sensation of him fully within you and the friction of your clit as it rubbed against his silvery pubic hair. He flicked up his eyes to meet yours with an intensity that made his eagerness clear as he waited for you to move.

You gently cupped his face and caressed his pointy ear, the other hand resting over his shoulder. You softly brought his face closer to yours, locking your eyes on his.

“Astarion...” You whispered. “Can you feel it? How incredible this is?” You gave him a dulcet smile before closing the distance, pressing your lips against his as you traced the line of his cheekbone and chest, feeling his pulse beneath your fingers.

Gently, you lifted yourself just slightly to sink back down, the exquisite friction sending a burst of pleasure through both of you. Astarion’s grip on you tensed again, tightening as his hips surged up to meet yours, letting out a low, throaty noise. Your lips remained together, deepening the kiss as your mouths moved in time with your bodies, setting a slow, constant pace where you rose and fell smoothly over him.

The sounds of your bodies intertwined moving together began to fill the surrounding little space—the slapping of skin on skin, the lewd, sensual noises of your pussy swallowing his cock over and over again blending with the muffled moans, and the relentless raindrops against the canvas.

He forcefully gripped your hips to dictate you, abruptly being the one controlling the pace as he broke the kiss to catch his breath. His lips hovered close, both hot exhales mingling as you rested your forehead against his, matching your rhythm. The tantalising climax drew closer and closer with every thrust, making everything else seem distant, the storm outside being insignificant compared to the tempest building between you.

His hands roamed over your body, tracing your spine before one circled your waist and the other gripped the back of your shoulder to pull you closer, urging you to press down against him more fully.

The deeper you sank, the more you felt him smack against your vaginal walls so passionately. You leaned forward, your hands wrapping either side of his waist and slightly digging your nails into his skin as you picked up the pace. The position shifted just enough to drive him pleasantly deeper in each downward stroke, with a perfect angle that made his tip hammer against your cervix.

Suddenly, the hand against your shoulder gripped your cheeks, pulling you down to capture your lips in another hungry kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, both tasting the other's mouth, becoming something truly addicting, as if he just seemed to want to devour you whole, and you couldn't satisfy your own craving. His hand slid to your nape as the kiss deepened, just like the rhythm of both pelvises grew faster.

Every thrust proved how he was losing himself, both of you spiralling higher and higher. He whimpered against your lips, a sound that vibrated deep in your mouth, feeling the tension coiling tighter within your lower belly, your body feeling worn out as it yearned for release.

His hands were everywhere—guiding, pulling, encouraging. You couldn’t help but moan against his lips, the pleasure overwhelming as your movements grew more frantic. He was holding you just right, pressing his open thighs up against your ass cheeks, lifting you just enough to make you feel perfectly aligned with his cock.

His lips parted from yours with a shaky groan as he looked up at you, consumed by the burning need you were becoming. At that moment, with the weight of your hips moving over his, your voice came out shaky, broken by the effort of holding yourself glued to him. “Am I... am I doing it right?”

The question left you trembling because of its vulnerability, making your pulse race as though the very act of asking had laid bare everything you hid beneath that little girl you were for him. You felt so desperate for his confirmation, for him to tell you that this was all he wanted.

For a moment, he looked as if he was caught off guard, eyes widening just a fraction before he composed himself.

Then his hands tightened his grasp on both your ass cheeks with determination. He pressed your hips down more strongly, making his cock burry inside you to the hilt and making your lips crush against his pelvis. “Do you feel that?” He kept pressing you down harder, grinding his hips up to meet yours. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, and it’s perfect. Move just like that—don’t stop.” The words slipped out raw and unfiltered, as if he couldn’t hold them back.

The way he said that broke whatever fragile restraint you’d managed to hold onto, unleashing a fierce, unstoppable heat within you. The only thing that existed now was him—all of him—buried balls deep inside you, turning every nerve in almost an animalistic way.

An uncontrollable need surged through you, overtaking all thoughts, as your hips immediately started to move impulsively, slamming down against his. Your body was just demanding to take everything from him, driven by a thirst he had created that couldn’t be denied. The ache of his cock stretching your entrance open and filling you that much was the divine sensation of him, the incredible pleasure of his flawless body moving exactly in time with and inside yours.

You were in pursuit of more—more of him, more of this satisfying connection. You let out a series of desperate moans, each one of them spurring you both deeper into your carnal urges, neither of you able to stop. The immediateness of it overtook you both. Your breathing was ragged as the intense pressure built, feeling him fully as he lifted his hips to force his cock impossibly inside you, aligning you just right, so deep that you could feel it in your very bones. The edge of your release was so close.

His hands dug into your ass, pulling you more forcefully against him to guide your frantic pace and stoke the fire on your clitoris as his pelvis writhed beneath it. “Just a little more...” He growled, strained, like a man on the edge of breaking. “I’m so close, love…” His words were almost a pleading cry, a raw reflection of the need that overtook him because of you.

You could feel it, see it—his control slipping away, his body trembling beneath yours as his hands gripped your hips now to urge you on, both bodies acting just like animals in heat do with an almost agonising intensity that could leave your womb aching for days. You both moved harder and faster, slapping together with an unbreakable pace. The pressure in your core was unbearable now, so close to snapping that it made your legs shake in both of the sides of his hips with the effort of holding on.

Suddenly, one of his hands slid between your bodies, finding your clitoris to circle his thumb over the painfully swollen nub with expert knowledge. Just like if he was already aware of how to trigger your sensitive spots to push you to the heavens. The friction was impossible to bear in the best, perfect possible way, making you cry in pleasure, unable to control the whimpers that tore from your throat.

You couldn’t hold back any more. His touch, the pressure, the movements of his body—it all became too much. The tension inside you snapped, and with a loud and uncontrolled moan, your walls tightly clenched and pulsated around him, your climax crashing over you in pure, consuming pleasure. Hitting you so hard that you felt like you were floating, holding on to him with the tremors of your hips.

But Astarion didn’t stop. He never ceased the maddening stimulation on your clit or fucking your cunt, coaxing another renovated sensation from you, pushing you past the point of stimulation. You tried to pull away to catch your breath, but his hands clamped down, forcing you to stay in the moment, allowing him to draw even more from you. He was relentless as the need to overstimulate you took control.

“Don’t stop, not now.” He gasped, his voice breaking as he thrust up into you harder, his thumb continuing to rub and circle your bud, trying to force your body into another climax. “I need you, my love. Please…”

The words were the spark that made you give in with a desperate cry as ecstasy crashed over you, smashing everything. You felt him pulsating and releasing with a ragged, almost feral growl, leaving his sweet lips, his body quivering beneath yours as he exploded into you, the rush of his climax pushing you to the edge. The sensation of his warm semen spurting against your cervix and filling you sent you into your second release of the night, the new pressure in your body finally exploding in waves of sheer. The powerful sensations of both of you reaching that peak at the same time made your vision blur.

Every spurt of his release throbbed deep within your womb, drawing low, tired moans from your lips as his cock continued its task to fill you, spreading his seed inside you with each pulse of the head. You pressed your hips down, grinding to take him impossibly deeper as your labia were already crushed against his damp pelvis, letting you feel every twitch and tremor between your aching walls. He groaned softly as he tightened his grip on your hips, and you fucked his cock instinctively in answer to coax out every last shudder from him.

His hands guided your hips to keep you pressed down hard as his cock stroked every sensitive inch of your walls, filling you in a way that made some of his cum slowly spill out from your pussy. Your bodies met again and again, making him feel unable to resist the pull of you as you moved perfectly up and down, simply feeling lost in you as you milked him.

Then, you both collapsed together, sweaty bodies shaking with the intensity of your simultaneous culmination and the aftershocks of your climaxes, leaving you both drained. Your breaths came intermittently, laboured, and it felt as though the camp outside had momentarily ceased to exist. The air between you was impregnated with the smell of sex and your scents, but there was also something tender about the way your bodies were embracing each other that made you feel... nice.

Astarion’s hands moved with a strange gentleness now, gliding up your back with soothing strokes in the cosiness of the moment. His lips pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, his breath still unsteady with a warmness that contrasted the freshness of your lovemaking and the way his cock kept pulsating while softening within you.

He dragged you against him. “Are you alright, darling?” His voice abruptly soft, touched with... care, concern; an unknown tenderness that caught you by surprise.

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yes…” you murmured, fluttering closed as exhaustion settled in and the comfort of his presence lulled you, feeling his quick heartbeat beneath your ear. “Just... give me a second.”

A sweet smile tugged at the corner of his lips, looking at you with adoration as he brushed a damp lock of hair away from your face, fingers running gently over your neck. “I’ll admit, I didn't think I’d be the one left wanting more… but here I am.” He said quietly. “That, my love, was truly something else for someone so lovely.” He pressed another sweet kiss to your cheek, remaining just a little before pulling away.

You let out a shaky laugh, the closeness between you both grounding your still-tingling nerves. Lifting your head slightly and reopening your eyes, you met his gaze with a warmth that made your heart swell. “You know,” you started, “I might just have to keep you around a little longer. You’ve made it hard for me to want anyone else, Astarion.” You reached to cradle his cheek as your hidden confession floated in the air between you.

He leaned into your touch, his hand hovering over yours in a loving gesture. “You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” Astarion said, feigning frustration, though his eyes softened with a rare sincerity in his voice. “I had plans, you know. But it seems I’m not allowed to have anything for myself any more.” He let out a mock sigh. “Guess I’m yours, darling. For now. Don’t get too comfortable with it.”

You smiled softly, tilting your head. “Oh, how tragic,” you teased with mock frustration as well. “I didn’t realise you had such grand plans, Astarion. How terribly cruel of me to steal you away from them.” Your fingers gently traced the edge of his ear, a smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it. Just try not to get too comfortable, either, darling.”

Astarion let out a soft chuckle, his fingers leaving your hand to cup your cheek tenderly. “Well, well, what a vile little thing you are,” he said with a playful smirk, grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Using that sweet face of yours to get your way... You really do enjoy this, don’t you?” His laugh was light, almost like a caress, before he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow kiss that left you aware of all the emotions he couldn’t express using words.

He held the kiss for a moment to savour your lips before pulling back to rest his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in the shared closeness.

After that, he slowly adjusted your position so that you lay more comfortably against him. Once settled, he pulled a soft blanket over you both, wrapping his arms around you snugly.

“Rest now, my love.” He murmured softly. You felt his words settle over you like a soft lullaby, and you snuggled closer to place yourself against him, wrapping your arm gently around his waist.

There, in his embrace, you let yourself fully relax in the quiet comfort of the moment with the rain outside. The feeling of his skin against yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, the gentle sweep of his fingers through your hair and your arm—it was everything you needed, a perfect, tender end to the passion from minutes ago.

With a contented sigh, you pressed a soft kiss against his chest before your eyelids started to grow heavy as you drifted into a peaceful calm in his arms.

As the hours passed, the heat of the night slowly faded, leaving you both tangled in each other’s embrace. You both drifted into sleep, your bodies still flushed and sweaty from the intensity of your passion that night. Astarion’s arm was wrapped around you, pulling you closer. The odd warmth of his body against yours was comforting.

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the tent, the storm was now nothing more than a distant memory, and a sudden weight pressed down on you.

Your mind, still slow to fully wake, started to be flooded with vivid recollections—the sex, the words shared, the undeniable connection you felt...

A sharp pang of awareness hit you as you became acutely aware of every quiet sound. 'Had I really just done that?' The question lingered in your mind, though it wasn’t that you regretted it—not with him, not when everything felt so unexpectedly right. But still, a knot tightened in your throat. You’d never been this irresponsible before, never allowed this kind of situation with someone you’d only known for a couple of months.

You slowly pulled yourself from Astarion's embrace. The warmth of his body left a mark on your skin nonetheless. As you sat up, the blanket tangled around your hips, and a sudden rush of cool air hit your naked chest, causing an uninvited shiver to you that woke you a little more.

Your eyes drifted to him, still peacefully asleep beside you. His bare chest rose and fell in slowly, and his expression was soft and relaxed in the morning, a sharp contrast to the intensity of your previous night.

While you stood there, tracing with your eyes his form, the weight of what had just happened was still pressing heavily above your shoulders. Embarrassment crept in, not just for the passion you’d shared but for the place you were in—his tent, in camp, with your friends only a few meters away. The unsettling thought wormed its way into your mind: what if they’d heard you?

Your eyes flicked towards the opening of the tent, a bead of cold sweat rolling down the back of your neck. You pressed your palm to your forehead, the reality sinking in. What if they had? The embarrassment felt like it was growing, and you had to swallow back the rising anxiety carving in your chest.

The thoughts swirled and twisted in your mind. Reaching for your shirt, you slowly sat up a bit more; you felt a sting pain in your muscles from the night’s activities. Your fingers fumbled clumsily to the fabric as the weight of your thoughts made everything feel more difficult. You tried to dress as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the fragile calm of his slumber.

The texture felt harsh against your sensitive skin, while the cool morning air grazed over the parts of you exposed and between your thighs as you raised the shirt over your head to dress it.

Just as you finally managed to pull it into place, you caught a soft shift beside you. Astarion’s eyes fluttered open, his vision still cloudy with sleep, but his attention immediately locked onto you. He didn’t speak right away; his focus was on the way you moved.

He curved his lips into a small, lazy smile. There was a softness in his expression now that you didn't see before. “Good morning... sneaking off already?” He sighed with the remnants of sleep in his tone. He looked down to where your fingers grabbed the fabric of your shirt, then back to your face, his smile growing wider. His hand reached out to grab your arm, pulling you back towards him gently. “Didn't peg you as the type to leave me after our first time, darling...”

The way he still wanted you close stirred something within you—a warmth despite the storm of emotions inside you. You couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought. “I wasn’t going anywhere...” You replied quietly.

Astarion’s hand moved to your waist, his touch fierce yet tender as he pulled you closer, guiding you to lay back completely against his body. His chest pressed against your back as he nestled his chin in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses there. You could feel the weight of him, enveloping you in a way that was both comforting and deeply intimate.

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, drawing you even nearer as he gently adjusted his position, making sure you were comfortable. You could feel the tension in your body melt as his movements spoke of quiet care, though the nervousness inside you didn’t entirely dissipate.

He must have sensed the shift in your mood. “Is everything alright?” Astarion murmured softly, concerned. His lips brushed over your ear as he spoke, a gentle kiss to your cheek that seemed to reassure you, though you couldn’t quite shake the lingering anxiety that clung to you.

“I... I just—” You broke off. “What if they heard us, Astarion?”

“We’re safe, darling,” he murmured, his voice a soothing caress that chased away the remnants of your worry. “No one knows a thing. The storm was our shield last night.”

Astarion’s hand lingered at your waist as he shifted his weight, guiding you gently. And with a slight motion, he turned you to lie on your back and face him fully. His gaze locked onto yours, his crimson eyes glimmering with something unspoken. He propped himself on an elbow beside you, sliding his other hand from your waist to cradle your cheek.

Seeing the faint worry lingering in your eyes, he offered a small, tender smile. “You know, love,” he began, “this is different. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t. I never imagined I’d feel like this—like I’d actually want this... someone.” His thumb brushed softly over your cheekbone, as if the gesture alone could convey what words struggled to express. “Last night wasn’t just indulgence, not with you. It was... real.”

The way he looked at you then was as though he’d laid down his armour, revealing a part of himself you’d only glimpsed. “I’ve spent centuries taking what I was told to, living by someone else’s twisted desires. Wanting something—someone—for myself? I’d almost forgotten what that even felt like.” He hesitated. “But here we are... and being with you, feeling this... it’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

Your breath caught, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest feel both heavy and light at once. You swallowed, a warmth blossoming where your anxiety had been. “I want you to know that I meant every word,” he whispered against your ear.

As he drew back, his fingers entwined with yours, and he gave you a small smile, one filled with that rare sincerity he reserved just for you. “So, let’s not let the world outside intrude on this, hmm?” His eyes gleamed with a quiet plea. “Not yet.”

The words hung in the warm morning light, soothing the unease within you. Astarion shifted slightly again to recline back onto the soft bedroll, pulling you with him. You instinctively wrapped an arm around his waist to hold him close.

But as your fingers traced along his side, you brushed against something you forgot. A faint crease formed between your brows as you looked down. There was the bandage you had tied the night before, stained with a faint bloom of red where his wound lay concealed. A quiet ache of worry unfurled in your chest as your hand rested against the edge of the bandage.

Without thinking, your fingers traced lightly over his abdomen, avoiding the more sensitive area near the bandage. “Astarion,” you called softly with a new urgency. “Are you... alright? I might’ve moved too much last night.”

Astarion’s eyes opened a bit more as he recognised the genuine concern in your voice. “Oh, my love,” he purred with a smirk on his lips as he glanced down to where your hand rested on his stomach. “If anyone could survive your... enthusiasm, it would be me.” His tone softened as he covered your hand with his.

You bit your lip, the persistent worry stirring as you recalled the intensity of the night before. “Still, I should've been more careful with you,” you replied with a faint blush warming your cheeks. “I didn’t even think about it last night... I just... wanted you.”

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer until your foreheads touched, his lips barely brushing yours as he spoke again. “Believe me, last night... was everything I never knew I needed,” he said, with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You've given me a moment of calmness I never thought I’d experience again.”

Your hand pressed lightly against his chest; he let out a quiet, contented sigh. His own hand drifted down to rest against your waist, drawing you even closer.

He brushed his lips softly against the tip of your nose, placing a sweet kiss there before he spoke. “The truth is, I’m not used to someone worrying over me. I’ve learnt to dismiss my wounds and to push through the pain alone. You make me feel seen, darling…”

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he leaned back just enough to catch your gaze, reaching with his hand your cheek to rub his thumb along your cheekbone in a gentle, absent-minded swipe. Your heart softened as you wrapped your arms around him, letting yourself melt. You nestled closer to him, the soft heat of his body a constant pull as your fingers traced lightly over his skin, careful not to touch the bandage.

Astarion’s fingers moved in slow strokes along your back, his touch lingering at the small of your waist. The quiet way his body urged you nearer made your pulse race in a way that was both comforting and thrilling. You could feel the passion of the night still lingering in the air between you, a magnetic pull that only seemed to deepen the longer you were in his presence.

“You know,” he murmured lowly, his velvety voice wrapping around your thoughts. He leaned in, his lips brushing over yours as he closed his eyes briefly. “I find myself wanting more.”

A small shiver of anticipation ran through you. He moved slightly, shifting his body to bring you closer, his hand sliding down your side until he could grab one of your buttocks. It stirred something inside of you—something that made it hard to breathe, hard to think.

You pressed your lips to his to give him a soft kiss before pulling back to meet his eyes. The intensity in his look made you ache with longing. “Astarion, are you sure you’re alright?” You asked softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing with something dark and intense, and then he leaned forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that was slow and sensual, tasting of the night and everything you’d shared. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet eagerness, and you let yourself melt into him, your hand sliding to his waist, feeling the bandage beneath your palm.

But you pulled back slightly, concern flitting through your mind again. Astarion’s eyes glimmered, his expression a blend of amusement and something achingly vulnerable. “Darling,” he replied, his voice a rough, affectionate murmur. “I can handle anything you give me.”

You leaned into him, grazing your lips with his as you spoke, “I just want to make sure you're alright... I don’t want to push—” Without letting you finish, he leaned forward to kiss your lips again to silence you. His mouth moved against yours with a quiet desperation, a demand for attention.

Astarion’s hands slowly roamed your sides as he shifted, positioning himself above you on the bedroll. You could feel the warmth of his body radiating into yours, his thighs pressed tightly against yours.

Your hands moved instinctively, sliding around his waist, bracing yourself against his lower back, feeling the curve of his muscles tense under your touch. The kiss deepened, slow and calm, as if he tasted every inch of you, pushing any lingering uncertainty away.

One of his hands moved to catch your hand and entwine his fingers with yours before pressing your hand down against the pillow. His other hand found your other wrist, lifting it gently above your head and pinning it there, his grip firm yet laced with a sensual care that only deepened your wanting of him. His thighs pressing tighter against yours.

Astarion’s breath was shallow against your lips as he finally broke the kiss to meet your gaze, his pupils wide with a need that mirrored your own, his mouth curving into a wicked smile as he held you in place. The subtle weight of him, combined with the feeling of his fingers interlocked with yours, created an undeniable sense of belonging, a wordless claim that ignited every nerve.

“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured roughly because of his desire, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Just stay here. With me. That’s all I need.”

‎

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anantaru · 9 months ago

Text

⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ i like the way you kiss me, i can tell you miss me

synopsis. ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ your ex boyfriend childe recently found out that you've been seeing another guy lately. // ꒰ᐢ⸝⸝⸝⸝ᐢ꒱ ♡

cw. jealous! childe, rough & needy, exes missing each other but not admitting it, hinted at a previous toxic relationship between you two, fem! reader ♡

"did he touch you like this?" childe mumbles against your ear as his hand slowly slid over your curves, touching your body.

the impact this brazen question had on you made your body shudder in embarrassment, not only that but you could feel your own blood being forced to frenziedly race through your shape with every new drag of his cock dashing ripples of glee into you.

he knows what he's doing, he's planned this.

the harbinger knows everything apparently, or perhaps he's actually made up an entire different story to what he thought happened on your date.

he cups your cheek and runs his thumb across your bottom lip reverently, "or was he rougher?" slower?" he taunts, and there's an instant jolt of pride up the harbinger's spine when he notices how you're embarrassingly averting his satisfied gaze.

he hasn't lost his grip on you yet, he's sure of it, and he welcomed that you're so easy to read, to the point where you'd choke on a cry consistently, more so when he rushed through that one spot he would never forget to stimulate.

"w-why does it matter?" your words come out quicker than your mind could've properly processed them as you whimper out wetly to him.

you quirk up a brow, feeling a tender hold of confidence aid your frame, "aah— it's not like we're dating anymore or anything,"

that breathy, almost belittling laugh that tumbled over your parted mouth reached his heart, fracturing his vitality.

"we're broken up, ajax, please," you shuffle your arms around his neck before abruptly pulling him towards you, so your lips could brush against his ear shell as you whisper seductively;

"i can fuck whoever i want,"

tilting his head, instead of falling for it, childe confidently cocks a brow before planting a wet kiss on your cheek, "huh? archons, what a mouth you got on yourself," as he spreads, burns and dominates your glistening walls until he's certain you're where he needed you to be— vulnerable to him, perhaps even admitting the truth and stopping your bratty mouth to spill anymore wrongs.

"come on, will you? come on," he laughs manically, his hips jerking hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs as your breasts bounce in tandem with his ruthless thrust, "don't pretend like he'll ever catch up to me, fuck— baby..." he grinds deeper, watching how a nasty ring of white covers the majority of his base.

you roll your eyes but know he's right— because no one could ever unlock the love you've had for ajax before you two had broken up. those rough hands of his were your everything, in comparison to how he used them against his enemies, towards you, he wielded them lightly.

you squeeze and squeeze him, practically telling him that yes, you've missed him so much but no, you're not willing to ever get in a relationship with him again. for that, you've put in too much work already to forget about ajax, the man you loved so unconditionally.

"doesn't matter," your voice echos like a soft whimper as you hug him, desperately wanting to feel how all his inches were painfully throbbing while squeezed by your walls, "we. don't. work." concurrently to his sultry rolls, you pant out a crushing reality.

childe didn't want to hear that, not now, not ever again.

he pushes inside and groans out hot against your ear, before forcing himself to move his hips slower, despite the expanded lust inside of him wanting to slam right into you, fuck— the harbinger was aggravated, frustrated and saddened at the same time. not because of you, yet due to the fact that primarily, it was his fault that things ended on how they did.

a candid confession should never find its way inside of a situation this unrepeatable, "i love you," he whines, his cock plunging with passion as if to emphasize his spelled out words.

your mouth opens instantly for a rebuttal as he swiftly runs a hand down your breasts, pinching your nipples, desperate to swallow up your mewls and keep them stored within him.

foreheads pressed against each other, no words said out loud.

childe regrets everything right now, because you are just his everything, his all.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin Impact smut #childe x reader #childe smut #childe x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months ago

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Nine Months

John Price x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: established relationship, light angst, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), breeding, creampie, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), mating press

Word Count: 1.5k

With John leaving for an extended deployment, you ask him to leave you something to remember him by while he’s gone.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 collection masterlist

The orders are a brand on the kitchen table. It’s just white paper. Black ink. It’s such a simple thing, and yet it aches every time John brings one home. Some orders are like this—physical. Other times, it’s a phone call in the middle of the night, and John peels himself from your arms to dress and depart with a quick kiss.

“When do you leave?” you ask, wrapping your arms around John’s torso and resting your head against his broad chest.

You don’t dare look at the paper yourself. You want to hear it from your husband’s lips.

“Three days from now,” he replies softly, responding to your touch by wrapping his own arms around you, holding you close to him.

Leaving is always the hardest. It’s the fear of the unknown—of what might happen when John is not in sight. With returns, you know he’s alive and well. The relief is palpable. This is sour. Dreadful. You hate it every time.

John squeezes slightly—a comforting hug. He loves his work, but even he doesn’t enjoy leaving you alone.

Three days.

That is all the time you have with him.

Three days. And then John will be gone for nearly six months. Perhaps longer.

It’s happened before, but you’ve never understood why. There are some things John does not share with you, and the realities of war are not one of those things. Things happen. Plans change. You are aware of this even though it’s utterly out of your control.

You turn your face toward him, and John greets you with a kiss. It’s slow. Tender. And you seek more. John gives them, allowing you all that you wish to consume. They shower upon you like raindrops, and you eagerly catch them with your tongue.

There is a hint of cigar smoke on him. A dash of whiskey. Indulgences he loves but not as much as you.

“John,” you breathe, threading your fingers through his hair.

His response to his name on your lips is a contented groan—one that vibrates against your chest and has you pressing closer to him.

“I want to feel you,” you murmur against his lips. “Feel you for the next few months.”

You want to ache between your legs, to remember him for a bit when he’s gone. Every parting could be the last, and nothing is more urgent that spending time with him as a husband and wife should be.

“A few months?” he chuckles, seeking another tantalizing kiss. “I’ll give you something you’ll feel for the next nine.”

His admission leaves your breathless. You start to pull back, but John’s groan is low and feral as he grasps the back of your neck and hauls you back to him. He claims your mouth, dominating until you surrender to him, melting into his arms.

Hands roam. John is everywhere. Touching. Seeking. You know you’re clawing at him, fingers digging in, but you’re too absorbed in his touch to know where the two of you begin and end.

John’s hands slide over your hips and then circle to your ass. He squeezes hard, landing one sharp slap to the left cheek before he delves further. Clamping down on the backs your thighs, John bends slightly at the knees, and then you’re in the air as he lifts you from the ground. Instinct has you wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, and your heels hook over his ass.

His lips never leave yours as he walks. There is only his taste and the strength of his hands gripping the undersides of your thighs. The kitchen is a distant memory. You don’t remember the hallway at all. There is only John and you—and then your feet on the ground again, John’s gaze a burning thing that turns your insides into an inferno.

“Take off your clothes,” he says, an underlying roughness to his tone.

You fall into the command without thinking as John takes a step back, observing your undressing. While you’re eager for him to be inside you, there is no quickness in the way you reveal yourself to him. But you do not take your time. It is steady, and yet your fingers are on the brink of shaking, the need to have him a buzzing between your bones.

There is a deep ache—a longing that you wish to fill. It burrows and expands until your heart pounds in your ears.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs once you’re entirely undressed.

John takes a step forward, his hand rising, fingers lightly brushing over the curve of your waist and hip to trail over your stomach. His touch is feather-light. A shivering thing. Between your thighs is a slickness. A need.

“On the bed,” he instructs. “Spread those legs.”

Then it is John who is undressing, removing pieces of clothing as you settle back on the bed, sliding backward until you’re comfortable, thighs spreading to show him how wanton you are.

Broad shoulders, strong arms, and a thick chest with brown hair is revealed to you. Then it’s muscled legs and large feet. The last thing to go gives you an uninterrupted view. John is bare and delicious, his cock already hard and jutting.

There is nothing left between the two of you. There is only air. Distance.

John steps forward, one knee resting on the edge of the bed. Between that and the moment his hands brush over your knees feels like an eternity. But it stretches and then comes crashing forward as he slides down onto his stomach and tongues your pussy like it’s his last meal.

With his arms locked around your legs, you are at John’s mercy. He teases and tastes, sliding his tongue into your pussy before swirling up to play with your sensitive clit. Your fingers dig into his scalp and arm, your hips undulating, riding his tongue as your body responds to his attention.

It is a crushing thing—splitting. The orgasm is sharp. A blade across the skin.

You cry out. Come off the bed. And even then, John continues to tongue you through it. The first turns into a second. Or, perhaps it’s the same, and John is drawing it out. Whichever it may be, it is enough to turn your cries into wheezing gasps.

Your breath is retreating. Escaping. The world is spinning.

Everything is overly sensitive. On edge.

You need air. You need calm. You need to come down and have a moment of peace before anything else continues.

John’s hold on your legs loosens, and your legs collapse to the bed. Your chest heaves, and a bead of sweat rolls down the back of your neck.

Easing up from between your legs, John guides them open and up, pressing them toward your chest. He settles between, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive pussy. You whimper, hand reaching between your bodies to grasp him, guiding him to where you want him the most.

John groans, and sinks in.

The stretch is always a shock at first no matter how much he preps you for it.

“That’s it, love. You can take me,” he croons softly, rocking his hips, feeding you more. Inch by inch he disappears. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy. Over and over again.”

His first thrust is a test. The next is not. You are pinned to the bed, and John is over you, his hips snapping against your own. It is loud in the room, eclipsing all other noise.

“Gonna fucking breed you,” he grunts between thrusts. You grasp the backs of your thighs, drawing your legs wider. John adjusts, one large hand planting itself above your head on the bed.

“When I come back, your belly will be swollen with my child.” It’s not a question. Not even a suggestion. “Do you want that, love? Do you want me to fill you up?”

“Please, John.”

He groans loudly, his thrusts becoming erratic and wild. You are pinned. Trapped. Completely at his use and will. It’s a lovely sensation to be under him like this—to allow John whatever he wants.

John’s breath hitches, and then he’s grinding forward. His release bursts from his cock, filling you, making everything slicker and wetter between your thighs. As he retreats, your legs start to fall but John clucks his tongue.

“No, love.”

He snags a pillow. Guiding your hips up, he slides the pillow beneath, and then supports your legs, keeping you elevated.

“Don’t want to lose any of that.”

John keeps you elevated like this for a bit. You think he might be done for now, but it’s hardly the start. Over the course of several minutes, you watch as his softening cocks begins to harden again.

He notices you watching him in that moment. And his grin is knowing.

“Want more?”

There is only one answer. And that is yes.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @taysarchive

@saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @ravenpoe67

@tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @ninman82 @lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg

@yawning-grave81 @burn1ngw00d @azkza @haven-1307 @voids-universe

@itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep

@statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @iloveslasher @sammysinger04 @dakotakazansky @suhmie

@jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos @marispunk

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@ash-tarte @eternallyvenus @kessi-21 @sw33tsnow @ghosts-hoe

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creamflix · 1 month ago

Note

Hi there! Long time reader, first time asked 👀

I saw your requests were open, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to do a Nanami drabble? Literally ANYTHING, your writing is so good, I trust you 100000%

💖 Even if you don't, thanks for considering anyway 🙏🏻

content: established relationship with nanami, female reader [implied to be shorter than nanami], fluff and crack thank you for the request anon! hope you like it <3 i wasn't sure if you wanted an nsfw one or not, so i just decided to keep it a lil' silly. — general masterlist ☆

nanami paused mid-action, the knot of his tie still undone, as he watched you drag a footstool across the floor with great determination. his brow arched ever so slightly, curiosity piqued.

you weren’t exactly the tallest person, and that stool seemed to be your weapon of choice for the grand gesture you were planning.

"what exactly are you doing?" he asked, his tone flat, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"don’t worry about it," you replied, climbing onto the stool with the kind of focus one might reserve for scaling mount everest. you wobbled slightly, and nanami instinctively placed a hand on your waist to steady you.

"hand me your tie."

his brows rose higher. "my tie?"

"yes, your tie. give it here."

"you do realize i can tie it myself, right?"

"where’s the romance in that, kento?" you countered, managing to look smug despite balancing precariously on your makeshift podium. "besides, i watched at least fifteen youtube tutorials last night. i’ve got this."

nanami sighed, equal parts amused and intrigued, and handed you the tie. he wasn’t in any particular rush to leave — not with this level of entertainment unfolding in front of him.

you grabbed the tie with all the confidence of a seasoned expert, draping it over his neck and starting to work the knot. "okay, step one: cross over... or was it under?"

nanami’s chest shook with a quiet laugh. "you don’t sound very sure."

"shhhhhh," you replied, glaring up at him. "let me concentrate."

you fiddled with the fabric for a moment longer, but as the knot began to resemble a crumpled ball rather than a tie, your expression shifted from confident to mildly panicked. "wait. no, no, no — this isn’t right."

"are you sure you watched fifteen tutorials?" he teased, tilting his head slightly as he watched you unravel your work.

"don’t mock me, kento. i’m in charge here."

"of course you are," he replied, but the amusement in his tone was unmistakable.

you tried again.

and again.

by the fourth attempt, your frustration was palpable. "why is this so hard? i swear i practiced on a scarf last night, and it worked perfectly!"

"maybe the scarf was more cooperative," nanami offered, lips twitching as he fought back a grin. "or perhaps it had better supervision."

"you’re not helping," you huffed, tugging the tie free and starting over yet again.

"i’m sorry, darling," he said, though his voice was anything but apologetic. "please, continue. i’m thoroughly enjoying this."

on your fifth — and final — attempt, you managed to produce something that vaguely resembled a proper knot. you stepped back triumphantly, admiring your handiwork, and looked up at nanami with a beaming smile.

"there! perfect!"

he glanced down at the tie, then back at you, his expression soft and indulgent. "it’s a little crooked," he said gently, reaching up to adjust it.

you smacked his hand away. "noooooo, it’s not. it’s charming. and you’re leaving it like that because i worked hard on it."

he chuckled then, the sound deep and warm. "as you wish," he said, smoothing down the tie but leaving your imperfect knot intact.

as he grabbed his briefcase and prepared to leave — five minutes late, but not that he’d ever complain — you trailed after him. "so, how do you feel, mr. nanami? pampered? loved? dashing in your wife-tied tie?"

"all of the above," he replied, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. "though next time, perhaps we’ll start a bit earlier."

"next time, i’ll have it perfected," you promised, hands on your hips.

he smiled as he stepped out the door, his heart feeling just a bit lighter. five minutes late was nothing compared to the joy of watching his wife stand on a footstool, determined to make him feel cared for in the cutest way possible.

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tohakumaru · 8 months ago

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[project page]

>walk away, go with the nomad. i love you.

since you cannot cry, you make an effort to push the stale air out of your lungs, a poor imitation of a sigh - i guess bad habits really die hard. if the nomad has noticed, then it pays you no mind and simply carries on. casting one last lingering glance at the water and the sky above, you dutifully follow. after a short while, it becomes clear that something has changed. the nomad has picked up its pace, moving in erratic strides. here and there, you find it dashing across the sand, beak and head angled upwards, as though searching, or following an invisible thread in the air, one that you can feel, but cannot quite grasp, like a long forgotten name - always on the tip of your tongue, yet never to be spoken aloud. at times, you struggle to keep up. it's so hard, you're so tired, it's too much. your eyes burn with fatigue. you want to scream, to beg the bird-thing to slow down, but the words evade you everytime you open your mouth, and the nomad does not so much as look at you. a hot and bitter pressure builds behind your nose and muffles your ears. once again you feel yourself falling apart - but the blanket wrapped around your frame and the water sloshing in your hollow stomach seem to work against your body's trajectory to disintegrate, two forces swirling inside and all around you, like a wicked pendulum that propels you forward despite, despite.

i won't let you go, should have known that from the start.

---

tenderly her eyes made their pilgrimage across the mounds of glass and steel, mourning perhaps hunger is a cure for insanity, shut-you-up-real-nice knowing full well being alive is a horrendously beautiful thing while the dogs, blood stained snouts dig out the madness, turn it into a five course meal heaving, a still-beating heart melts like butter on their lips as poorly clipped nails fumbled and fussed,

just enough to make a day-ride.

---

in this fashion, you and the nomad dance across the white sand for some time, until a hillside comes into view. upon closer inspection, you are awed to realise it is made entirely of roots. at the foot of this strange hill, a grove - an incredible indent in that tangled mass that is the tree-hill - opens up and presents an even more curious sight: 12 creatures, each bearing the likeness of a bird, but is clearly not one. they stand stock-still and solemn, with multitudes of dried flowers and glittering gemstones at their feet. their faces, elongated and coming to pointy, beak-like ends, are not dissimilar to the nomad, but much more haggard; and so immobile, it is easy to mistake them for statues, has there not been the occassional puffs of dusty smoke and shrill noises, like a kettle boiling over, coming from their beaks and throats that betray any hints of liveliness about them.

the nomad slows its steps, and looks down. it keeps its eyes to the ground as you get nearer to the grove. it occurs to you that it is avoiding the living-statues' gaze. surprisingly, they reciprocrate the gesture. Ever so slightly each of them turn their head, so their eyes fall off the nomad, and onto … you. you, who does not belong you, who comes on a leash, believing it to be choice you, who dies, and nothing changes

to your bewilderment, the statues came to life, all at once. they grovel at the flowers and gems, and toss them in handfuls at you as the nomad leads you through the grove, leaving a trail of petals and stones. when you pass the 12th statue and come to the end of the opening, everything suddenly shifts: slowly, mechanically, the roots shape themselves into a winding stairway, leading you up the hill.

calmly, the nomad signals you to go up.

what do you do?

[previous chapter]

#illustration #fiction #drawing #impossible nomad #writing #storytelling #prose #poetry #poll #stories #ocs #creatures #monster #art #artists on tumblr

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soullessdianthus · 1 year ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 "𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭" 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲

Summary: Your boyfriend returns from the latest deployment and you're ready to spend a nice evening together. But his past haunts him especially during the night while you lay in his arms.

A/N: I needed comfort, okay? HE NEEDED IT. That's it, just snuggling and stuff. Enjoy.

Warnings: generally comfort/fluff, mentions of miliatry and related PTSD, a hint of past intercourse

Word count: 1.3k

When he finally arrived at the apartament and locked the doors behind his hunched back, Simon let out a loud sigh. The tips of his coarse fingers brushed against the blonde hair on his occiput. He put down black hockey bag and made his way to the living room.

━ Simon!

A voice so familiar and heartwarming made his tired body spark with a dash of joy. He turned around to face you just in time, as your legs wrapped around his hips in a cheerful hop.

He caught you by your thighs and hoisted even higher to secure your form.

━ Missed you too, luv. ━ Simon stated happily, when you pressed a soft kiss onto the new scar on his jawline. Perhaps, it was one of the old ones, but you hadn’t noticed it earlier? You couldn’t remember, if the little detail was there before his deployment on the other side of the world.

Simon slowly put you down onto the floor, a subtle smile forming on his lips. You, on the other hand, were a breathing and living spark of joy.

━ Go take a shower, I’ll be waiting with dinner. ━ You instructed him, as your eyes roamed over his toned body, searching for any serious injuries.

━ I reek, eh?

The blonde man placed his palms over the sides of your pretty face just as he leaned to kiss your forehead. Riley inhaled the lovely scent of your hair - it made him feel home.

━ Just a little ━ you said jokingly, looking up into your boyfriend’s dark eyes. His almost black gaze usually scared people, reminding them of nothingness. But you thought he had beautiful eyes. The most beautiful you’d ever seen. ━ Go on.

You gently pulled his hand towards the cozy bathroom, encouraging him to take a warm shower. The room was still steamy as you ran a bath for yourself not so long ago. The ends of your hair still curled due to wetness.

Simon took a look over the counter and saw already prepared clean clothes, folded impeccably and smelling of your favorite detergent. He looked in the mirror and reminded himself how lucky he was to have you.

Around fifteen minutes passed and your lieutenant joined you in the kitchen. His strong arms sneaked from behind, entangling around your waist. Simon hummed, being curious about the delicious smell.

━ It’s just some pasta with pesto, something easily digestible for the night. ━ You explained, sprinkling the ingredients with some grated cheese. Simon never complained about your cooking, it was impeccable. The two of you enjoyed preparing meals together if his work allowed some time for that.

Both of you sat down to the dining table, close to each other. He ate and listened patiently as you flooded him with the latest gossip from your work, neighborhood or mutual friends.

You never asked him about his missions if he hadn’t addressed the subject himself. You knew the toll the work had on him. And not only the military assignments. Simon went through a lot of tough things in his life, leaving him with a post traumatic stress disorder that resurfaced in the most random moments.

But you were there for him, always.

━ You wanna pick out the movie? I’m going to change, okay? ━ You suggested your boyfriend, when you finished the meal and cleaned afterwards. Simon nodded, approving of such plans.

He was a man simple to please.

You returned to him - a blonde man sitting comfortably on the couch, his eyes lingering up and down your form - particularly your hips flirtatiously swaying to the sides. You changed into the pastel blue nightgown he bought you last year. It was silk, a material which poured between one’s fingers.

Just like you, between Simon’s fingers on a stormy night, when he pressed his forehead to yours, taking in each short breath you gasped out in pleasure. He savored them, so the lieutenant could recall them when he was away on a mission.

You sat down on the couch next to him. But before you could make yourself comfortable, Simon pulled your bare legs over his lap. Your cheek rested upon his collarbone, a delicate palm spreaded across his chest.

Oh, how much you missed him. All of him.

His body was pleasantly radiating warmth. Simon’s slowed and steady breathing, which raised the ribcage of his, eventually lulled you to sleep. It was a tough week for both of you.

You meant to spend that evening with him, talking about the things he missed while deployment. But it was hard to fight the sweet sleep, when Simon snuck one of his hands over your scalp and began to gently rub your head.

It wasn’t long before he noticed - your body stilled, muscles absolutely relaxed against him. Simon let you lay beside him until the movie ended. It was the right time to go to bed.

You woke up, feeling his arms scooping under your knees and head. The urge to shift and stand up on your own legs was suppressed by his calm approach.

━ I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to fall asleep. ━ You apologized to him, the tone of your voice dreamy, half-asleep, while he carried both of you to the bedroom.

━ ‘s okay. I’ve got you.

The night was calm. Beside the pouring rain, heavy droplets banging on the windows and its sill - a charm of the country you lived in. The tapping melody brought the both of you a deep sleep, your body clinging to Simon’s chest.

It always felt safe - falling asleep next to him, when the person was the most vulnerable. At the beginning of your relationship, the soldier found it hard to sleep through the whole night peacefully. But as the time passed by, he grew to be more comfortable around his partner. Such thing as sleep was… quite intimate to lieutenant Riley.

But there were nights, more difficult and frightening than the others, when the horror of Ghost’s past resurfaced.

He was sweating, each muscle flexing for a painful amount of time. But it was his heavy breathing, muffled whispers that woke you up.

You slowly pulled away and sat on the bed beside him. Always next to him. At first, you wanted to rub his tattooed forearm, but deep down you knew, that sudden touch can startle him even more.

━ Simon? ━ Your sweet, sleepy voice echoed somewhere in his consciousness, slowly pulling him out of the bloodshed. ━ Simon. You’re home.

Simon.

His dark eyes finally shot open as he inhaled sharply. Almost like he just had sleep apnea’s attack. Which you knew wasn’t the real cause.

━ Fuck ━ the blonde groaned, wiping his eyes. ━ Sorry, luv.

━ It’s okay. Do you need something? Water, pills?

You offered him help, at least as much as you could actually help to ease his pain. Now, when he was awake, your gentle touch began to caress his arm.

━ Just you.

Simon waited until you laid back down. And when you did so, he pressed his head into your collarbones and cleavage. Both of his limbs wrapped around your upper body, pulling you closer. His nose was almost squashed with your ribcage, but it didn’t matter. As long as he could feel your sweet smell.

Your palms wandered for a while over his occiput, massaging his aching head and brushing through his blonde hair.

Only when you felt his breaths slow down and when his heartbeat droped, you managed to fall back asleep. Knowing he managed to push his nightmares aside for you.

His home.

#reader insert #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2

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coralinnii · 1 year ago

Note

Congrats on 2.7k! The villain(ess) saga is my bread and butter hehe.

Anyways Id like to request borderline desperate Jamil trying to figure out Readers fav food as they can and will literally eat anything without complaint(even Lilia's cooking lol). Thank you 💖

‧₊˚✧A Dash of Sweetness ‧₊˚✧

↳ Reader S/O who eats anything

feat: Jamil genre: fluff (like shojou manga level sweetness) note: no pronouns used with the reader, idiots in love, kinda oblivious!reader, roughly 1k words,

Random storytime, my big bro once got hungry and cooked himself eggs while the rest of us were out, and no one told him the eggs went bad. He was absolutely fine the entire day and none of us would have known if not for my bro saying it’s weird that the egg he ate was green. Yet, he said the french toasts I made once were bland T_T

Anyway, this took a while because I honestly didn't know how this story will end up, hopefully you enjoy it ^_^

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Jamil can deny all day and night, but he really likes to see you enjoy his cooking. For all the times he told you that he already has his hands full with Kalim, there was suspiciously always a warm lunchbox filled with aromatic meals made by yours truly. All for that bright smile of yours whenever you would finish off the “leftover” meal that Jamil would generously share with you.

When Jamil realized that others have fed you, his hidden competitive nature rose. While there were many competent students with skills in the kitchen, within Jamil was a desire to see a special shine in your eyes when he cooks your favorite dish, a visual only for him.

But be it due to pride or embarrassment, Jamil doesn’t seem to be the type to be upfront with his intentions, nor does he take the straightforward tactic. Instead of asking you directly, he would ease his way through conversations with your friends just to find out your most favored dish per chance. But that turned out that that was harder than he expected.

Day after day, Jamil would hand you a new type of dish and watch your reaction for the slightest hint of preference. Perhaps a raise of your eyebrows, a slower time to take in the taste, anything. He's racking his brain and looked for every sort of dish and recipes from all parts of Twisted Wonderland for the slight chance he comes across a dish to your absolute liking. But each time, you simply smiled graciously and thanked him for sharing with you, not that he disliked it since he did get to spend more time with you through all of this.

But each attempt makes him all the more impatient, and curious. If you looked this beautiful just eating something good, Jamil wondered how you’d look if he served you your most favored dish? Would he see your eyes light up with joy, your body shaking with excitement, your cheeks so cutely puffy and full with every bite, maybe even bring him into a spontaneous embrace filled with so much gratitude, perhaps even a kiss…

“I’m getting ahead of myself.” Jamil hid his face in embarrassment, but the burning ears and racing heart revealed how much he wanted to see that side of you.

You found it odd how often it’s been that Jamil was offering you leftover food this past week. You’re certainly not complaining but it’s always something new everyday. Sometimes Jamil would hand you a meal mixed with aromatic spices, other times an array of sugary sweet treats and pastries. It could be a simple stew that warms your soul one day, or it could be a unique cuisine with a variety of paired side dishes.

But every day, you would notice that he would glance your way occasionally as you partake in this gracious meal, and it’s making you a bit antsy.

“You’ve been watching me for a while.” Your voice seemed to break whatever concentration the Scarabia student had. “Is there something you’re expecting me to say?”

Like a deer in headlights, Jamil flinched and felt a small wave of embarrassment when he realized he was caught watching you. He was sure that he was being discrete, but he supposed that as days went on he had gotten a tad bit restless and hasty. He got sloppy, he cursed to himself.

Quickly shaking his nerves away, he replied with a smile to ease you. “I’m simply glad the food is to your taste.”

You were hardly convinced by that. Was he experimenting with dishes, you wondered. You tried to offer some insights and compliments which seemed to satisfy the long-haired upperclassman, but you felt a sneaky suspicion that he was hoping for something else.

“Jamil, I’m really happy that you’ve been sharing all this food with me.” You said as you settled the lunchbox to your side. “But I don’t think I’m the best person if you're looking for a detailed review on food.”

Ah yes, Jamil was aware of your generous palate. While trying to discreetly find your preferences, Jamil first assumed you had a sweet tooth when you praised the Heartslabyul vice-housewarden for his sweets. But then, Jamil overheard you enjoying your visits to Mostro Lounge so perhaps you had a pension for seafood…Then, he was thrown for a loop when he heard from a giddy Lilia that he was delighted to see you have such a rigorous appetite, having tried and finished the beef-seafood-fruit stew he made for his dormmates.

You...were not picky, to say the least.

You felt a pang of shame for your lack of refined judgment in cuisine. “Your food is really good. Sorry, I don't know what else I can say about it that is helpful to you.”

That’s it. Jamil saw an opening. “Perhaps, I could make your favorite food,” his voice sounded as though it was a spontaneous thought. “Then it would be something you can speak more on a personal level.”

All other attempts to learn your food preferences failed in the past, but now there was an opportunity to learn firsthand from the source. It wasn’t strange, was it? It was simply the flow of the conversation, and all the long-haired upperclassman did was offer an option. What an auspicious break for Jamil.

But when Jamil looked to you to gauge your reaction, you surprised him.

You stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Your lips quivered and shook, as though your body was nervously processing his words, which deeply worried Jamil. Has he somehow offended you? How?!

Finally, you spoke. “You would make something…just for me?”

“Yes, if that’s something alright with you?”

All this time, you were under the impression that Jamil was offering you food that couldn’t be finished, and you were content with taking whatever was offered, happy that the vice-housewarden thought of you in some way. But having Jamil make something homemade purposely with you in mind… to think of you as he makes the effort to do something, hoping you will enjoy it. A sweet gesture made for you, and you alone.

Feelings of butterflies filled you as your cheeks felt hot at such thoughts. You felt your lips quiver as a goofy smile crept its way onto your face, but you tried to hide your giddiness behind your fingers.

You thought for a bit, then softly you replied. “Curry would be nice.”

Hmm? Jamil was surprised. That’s his favorite…

“Then, we can eat together.” You smiled nervously. “I think sharing with someone you like makes food taste better.”

Such a lovely sight of two shy fools. One was grinning oddly while the other was hiding his shamefully burning face behind his hood.

#this was a toughie #I had no idea where this was gonna take me #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil viper x reader #2.7k followers event

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astraystayyh · 1 year ago

Text

The only exception

barista Minho x reader. strangers to lovers. slow burn. if you can, listen to The only exception by Paramore while reading :)

Minho was content with straying away as far as possible from love. That is until you stumbled into his café on a rainy night, and unwittingly, into his life.

skz song series masterlist

Minho sweeps the countertop with a blue rug, wiping away the scattered droplets of spilled coffee. He grabs a pastry from the showcase- a blondie with a raspberry drizzle on top, placing it on a plate decorated with dainty flowers. And then he gives it to the middle-aged man sitting near the back of the café.

Minho is in Aurora, completing his mid-day shift, and yet it feels as if he's only physically there. His body is moving on auto-pilot, mechanically performing the familiar tasks etched into his memory by now. And he likes it, since it drowns out the tumultuous thoughts plaguing his mind.

Minho used to look forward to the days when Marta- Aurora's exceptional baker, would prepare blondies. The alluring aroma of the freshly made pastry would waft through the café, enveloping both Minho and the customers in a soothing embrace. He enjoyed preparing the coffee and drawing different pretty patterns on top of it. He also liked the music playing, and sometimes, the manager would even let him play some of his own playlists.

But that was before Minho got his heart broken, torn in half, carelessly, as if it didn't belong to a breathing human, but rather to an unfeeling entity. Now, his lattes are void of intricate designs, the blondies prepared by Marta remain untouched, and his mind doesn't register the music playing.

He's just existing, in a stillness he perfectly curated. He's a placid river, undisrupted, running its usual course day after day.

Minho watches as the man clad in a polished suit finishes his treat, before getting up and leaving Aurora with hurried steps. He eats alone now, Minho has noticed, and his ring finger is void of the gold band he used to wear.

Perhaps that's what Minho's fate would also be. Eating alone in cafés he used to bring his lover to, basking in the chatter surrounding him, in the desperate hope that it'll fill the void inside him.

ii.

it's a Thursday, which means Minho is working the night shift at Aurora. It's pouring rain outside, the incessant water droplets a misty veil that fogs up the café's windows. Amidst the downpour, he catches sight of a couple dashing through the rain, hands tightly clutched into one another. They're giggling, as if the rain falling isn't a nuisance, but rather an elixir heightening their love. Minho looks the other way.

The door to Aurora is pushed open, and Minho watches as you set foot inside. You're drenched in rain, from head to toe, strands of your hair sticking to your cheek. You exhale in relief, closing your eyes for a split second as the warmth of the café surrounds you- like a childhood blanket tightly wrapped around your being. There is a hint of a smile as you walk to the counter. It only grows when your eyes set on Minho.

"Hi!" you greet cheerfully and he simply nods in return. The weather was horrible and you were probably uncomfortable from the clothes clinging to your skin, so what were you exactly joyful about?

"Can I have hot chocolate, please? Oh, and a piece of that brownie," you point to the showcase, and he follows your line of sight.

"Sure, anything else?"

"No, thank you," you smile, and he nods once again. "That will be 10 dollars."

"Here," you hand him a crumpled bill and he takes it from you carefully, ensuring your hands don't brush against one another.

You sit down on a chair near the window, and Minho dutifully prepares your order. He brings it to you once he's done, and you grin at him once again. You smile a lot, he thinks to himself.

Minho goes on with his tasks, cleaning the dirty cups in the sink and grounding the coffee beans. When he's done, he can't help but notice you grabbing some napkins from the table and dabbing your neck and face dry with them. He sighs to himself before retreating to the café's backroom.

"Here, to dry your hair with," he says, handing you a clean towel.

Minho leaves before you could smile at him again.

iii.

It's Tuesday, and Minho has just served a freshly baked cinnamon roll to Mark- the middle-aged man who just introduced himself to Minho after months of frequenting Aurora.

Minho liked having regulars in his shifts, familiar faces to look into. This was part of the reason why he picked being a barista as a part-time job- he enjoyed people-watching. Not in a noisy way; he simply liked imagining the lives of the people surrounding him. It served as a distraction from his own.

Among the regulars was a woman in her thirties who only ordered a chaï latte with a blueberry muffin. Then there was that one student, with blonde hair and freckles dusting his cheeks. He really despised bitter coffee, always ordering his with abnormal amounts of syrup.

And now, there was you too. You've been coming to Aurora regularly for the past few weeks since your initial visit. Minho still hasn't memorized your go-to order because you don't have one. You pick a new drink each time as if you were on a mission to taste everything on the menu.

You come here alone, occupying the same seat by the window with your chin resting on your palm. He suspects you enjoy people-watching too since you often gaze outside. You also bring books with you, reading them while sipping on your beverage. Sometimes you write too, in a tiny sage notepad.

And you smile, god do you smile a lot. At young children passing by in the street, at an elderly couple holding hands, at the black cat that sleeps on the edge of the window. And you smile at Minho. Each time you order, each time your eyes meet his from across the café. Minho likes to believe that happiness was so deeply ingrained within you, it became the very essence of your soul- an intrinsic part of your being you could not part with.

The door to Aurora is pushed open and Minho isn't surprised to see you entering once again, your bag loosely hanging from your shoulder.

"Hi!" you greet excitedly as you usually do, and Minho simply nods, as he usually does.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit weird," you preface, piquing Minho's curiosity. "I'm not really craving anything today, so can you make me your favorite drink?"

"My favorite drink?" he repeats, a bit incredulously and you nod eagerly. "Yes, I drink anything and I don't have any allergies, so whatever you prepare is fine!" you smile hopefully at him.

He stays silent, mulling over your request. He goes to say no, but the smile slowly slipping from your face makes a strange pang of guilt wash over him.

"On second thought, I'll just have-"

"Okay," he interrupts, "I'll bring it to you when it's done," he quickly says and the smile etches itself on your lips once again. Minho feels an unexpected relief dawn on him at its sight.

"Thank you! I'm yn, by the way," you introduce.

"Minho," he says, although you can read it on his nametag.

"Minho," you repeat, and he finds himself itching to hear his name dripping from your lips again.

Minho prepares you an iced americano with cold foam, and two pumps of white mocha, since you seem to enjoy drinks on the sweeter side. He watches breathlessly from the counter as you take a sip of it, closing your eyes to fully relish in its taste. Your nose scrunches up in delight before you quickly turn around to shoot him a thumbs up from afar.

Minho nods, before turning his back to you. Unwillingly, a small smile tugs at his lips. He's glad you liked it.

iv.

Another Thursday unfolds following its usual routine. Mark occupies his customary spot in the rear of the café, while the scent of Marta's lemon madeleines permeates the kitchen.

Except you're not smiling.

Minho finds it odd, how there was no cheerfulness in your steps as you walked to the counter. You did not smile while ordering, and your voice carried a tinge of sadness when you thanked him.

You did not ask about his day, nor about his cats- that was also something unusual for you to do. You've asked about them each time since Minho told you about them. He didn't plan on doing so, he just saw you one day eyeing the stickers of his three cats on his phone case, while he was counting your change.

"Are they your cats?" you asked, pointing at them and he nodded, a faint smile dancing at the corners of his lips.

"They are."

"You must love them a lot. They almost managed to make you smile," you teased, grabbing the rest of the money and walking to your usual seat.

Minho steals brief glances at you, as he prepares your matcha latte, a drink you seemed to enjoy a lot lately. You're gazing at the window almost soulfully, your back slightly hunched as if there was an invisible weight crushing you underneath it.

Minho nibbles on his lower lip, contemplating his next move, before grabbing the frothed milk. For the first time in months, he draws a little cat on the surface of your drink, just like he used to do a long time ago.

He brings it to you, and his heart flutters nervously as you gaze down at the cup. He almost second-guesses his action, that is until you beam at him, and Aurora suddenly feels brighter than it did seconds ago.

"When does your shift end?" you ask Minho as he sets your perfectly crafted matcha latte on the table- an order he has committed to memory by now.

"In an hour, why?" he asks curiously and you wave your hand dismissively. "Just wanted to know."

The seconds trickle by slowly, as the hour almost comes to an end. You watch as Minho takes off his apron, running a hand through his hair. It's gotten longer now, silky bangs he tucks behind his ear to keep them from obstructing his vision.

He talks a bit to Seungmin, the other barista that works there. And then he steals a quick glance around the room, where he finds you already looking. You wave him over, and he tilts his head slightly in confusion, before walking to your table.

"Sit down," you smile, gesturing to the chair in front of you. Minho complies silently.

"Here," you take out a container filled with brownies from your bag. "I never properly thanked you, for the towel and for the little cat you drew on my coffee last week. So, here, thank you," you beam at him while sliding the box in his direction.

"I don't- it's nothing, you didn't have to," he says, and you notice a tinge of pink blush covering the tips of his ears.

"I wanted to. I hope you'll like them, I'm not as good as your baker, but I tried," you confess, smiling sheepishly, and Minho feels a sudden urge to vehemently contradict you, to tell you that they must taste good. And even if they didn't it wouldn't matter, because you baked them for him. And that is enough.

But he bites the inside of his cheek harshly, physically stopping this rush of words eager to escape his mouth.

"Let's eat them together, hum?" he simply suggests, opening the container and placing a brownie on your plate before taking one himself.

"Is it good?" you ask tentatively and he pretends to contemplate your question for a moment.

"They're horrible, right? I shouldn't have taken creative liberties with the recipe and-"

"Yn, I'm just kidding," he stops you, a soft smile on his face. "They're delicious, see," he says, finishing the brownie in one bite. "Really good," he compliments, reaching for another piece.

"Okay," you smile in relief, eyes crinkling closed. The sunlight is streaming through the window, casting a golden shadow on your face. You are swaying contently in your place, as you take another bite of the brownie. And you look happy, with him. Minho thinks the brownies are the best he's ever had because he's sharing them with you. Because he got a taste of your happiness through them.

vi.

"Can you believe that professor? He failed half the class and he still thinks he isn't the problem."

You are venting to Minho about your stuck-up Economics professor, while leaning against the countertop. He's listening intently to you, drinking in the details of your face as you talk to him. For some reason, he finds the smile lines on your face mesmerizing, that and the way your eyebrows move with your every word.

These subtle details have been engraved into his memory since the day you gave him the brownies, two months ago. He has grown fond of you, sitting at your table at the end of his shift without you having to ask. You also hang out outside of Aurora, going on frequent walks and discovering new food spots. He never felt that the conversation between you two was strenuous, or forced. It flowed naturally, like a waterfall knowing exactly where it should go.

He also finds that smiling is easy with you. At your jokes, your stories, and your existence. He's lost count of the times he found himself grinning widely at your words, or smiling softly to himself at the thought of you coming to Aurora soon.

"He's too full of himself to admit he's the one who sucks at teaching," Minho comments and you clap in agreement.

"Right! And it's so funny because..." You're still talking but your words go unheard by Minho, like a mindless buzz in the back of his mind. He's frozen in his place, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage as he notices the couple who just came in.

His ex, with the man she cheated on him with.

"Minho? What's wrong?" you call out, snapping him out of his daze. You're eying him worriedly, and only then does he realize how tightly he's holding the countertop.

"Nothing," he curtly replies, as he plasters a neutral expression on his face.

He watches as his ex's eyes widen slightly when she sees him. She forgot he was working here. Of course, it'd be easy to do so since she never visited him at Aurora anyways. Despite the flood of emotions cursing through him, Minho maintains a stoic facade, taking their orders as if she's a mere stranger and not the one behind his shattered heart.

As Minho attempts to prepare their coffee, his hand trembles uncontrollably, forcing him to stop before dropping the milk.

He didn't love her anymore, he was certain of it. But still, the sight of her brought unpleasant memories back to the surface. Ones he tried so hard to bury in the back of his mind. And Aurora was his sanctuary. One, she never tainted with her presence. Has she not taken enough from him already?

"Minho?" you call out softly, and Minho feels guilty because he left you alone with no explanation. Still, when he turns around, he can tell you aren't upset. You are worried, looking at him cautiously.

"Is everything okay?" you ask once again, and this time Minho can't find it in him to lie to you, so he simply shakes his head no.

"Your hand is shaking," you observe, before gently grabbing it in yours. You cover his hand with both of your palms, squeezing it lightly to steady the tremors cursing through it.

Your hand is warm, and very soft, a stark contrast to the sharp emotions surging within him, like pine needles puncturing his heart.

"Would you like me to serve them?" you ask softly, and Minho isn't surprised you picked up on his unease. You're perceptive, it's one of the things he likes about you.

"Please," he responds quietly. You simply smile, reaching for an apron and wrapping it around your waist. You look adorable, intertwining yourself with his world, and the sight of you eases the ache in Minho's soul.

A few minutes later, you grab the tray from his hands and walk over to their table. Minho chuckles inwardly when he notices that you didn't smile at them, serving them with a blank face, and his chest warms a little.

He has you on his side.

Five days later, you're sitting besides Minho on a bench; watching the sun as it dips into the ocean, painting the sky in hues of orange and yellow. Yet, the dazzling colors are the last thing on Minho's mind. All he can think about is you. How you helped him with serving the rest of the drinks that day, how he taught you how to work the coffee machines- a solace from the ugly feelings that roared in him.

"Thank you," he abruptly says and you turn to look at him, perplexed.

"For what you did the other day, with the couple that came in. That was, um... my ex and the person she cheated on me with," he confesses quietly, fiddling with his earlobe. He didn't need to tell you, but he wanted to. "I've moved on, it's just... seeing her again hurt. I don't know why."

Your eyes soften at him, not in pity, but in care. And Minho doesn't mind being vulnerable with you. It's scaring him, but he doesn't mind.

"It's normal for it hurt, it would honestly be weird if it didn't," you smile gently and he sighs in reply, running a hand through his hair.

"I wish it didn't."

"Love is a powerful feeling, it consumes our entire beings. That's why it hurts when our hearts are toyed with. But love itself doesn't hurt, I feel like it's what makes our world move. You know, the little gestures humans do for one another, that are fueled by love. Like, um... scratching someone's back or peeling someone's fruit. You don't have to do those things, but you do. Because you love the person, and it makes your existence feel gentler, and softer on the heart." You explain, the words leaving your mouth and wrapping around Minho's soul, healing parts of him that he didn't know were bruised.

"My point is, it's normal for you to be hurt. But I hope you don't close your heart entirely to the feeling. Because we may not have grand things in our life, but if there is a hand that brushes our tears away and one that folds our laundry, then that's enough for us to lead a beautiful life."

Minho blinks repeatedly, in a desperate attempt to keep his tears at bay. He felt as if the letters you uttered unfolded and stretched in front of his eyes, morphing into a gentle hand patting his back. Yours.

You smile softly at him, the water's reflection shimmering in your eyes. And Minho thinks that he's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to dive into the unknown- into you.

"How do you do it?" he chuckles in disbelief, as he leans a bit closer to you. "You make me want to believe in love again," he pauses, before adding quietly, "but only if it's with you."

You remain silent as Minho fidgets with his fingers, before tentatively grabbing your hand in his. He doesn't look at you, his gaze fixated on the way your fingers naturally intertwine with one another- as if finding each other after a lifetime of being apart.

"You know, I'd thought I'd always live like this, keeping a comfortable distance between me and people," he says, raising his head to finally meet your eyes, "and up until now I thought I was content with it, with loneliness, I mean. But... but brownies taste sweeter when I'm with you, and Aurora is brighter when you are in it, and smiling feels like second nature around you. And I don't... I don't think I can go back to being lonely again, not when I've had a taste of you in my life."

Minho's heart is beating wildly into his chest, and he can hear the blood rushing through his ears, frantically, as if to warn him against what he's about to say. But your thumb caresses his palm reassuringly and he wants to try again. With you.

"I- I never wanted to love again, because no one, none of it was ever worth the risk, but you... You are the only exception."

Minho exhales breathlessly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to your chest. You hoped that your warmth would ease his nerves a bit, that your hand on his back would feel gentle on his soul. You didn't want to rush your answer, trying to think of something that will patch up the deeply carved scar in his heart, a perfectly made band-aid in the shape of syllables.

It's a foolish hope, you realize, to instantly quiet the cries of a bruised spirit. So you simply settle on saying the truth sitting on the edge of your tongue.

"It will be quite hard, and scary for you," you whisper placing a tender kiss on his shoulder blade. "But I'll help you, if you'd let me. I'll take care of your heart better than I do with my own."

vii.

"Hey, baby," you smile at Minho, slipping behind the counter to be by his side. He pulls you by your waist, kissing your cheek softly.

"I missed you," he pouts, and you giggle, playing with strands of his hair, "I missed you too."

"Do you know what day it is today?" he asks, a shy smile gracing his face.

"No...?" you trail out and he chuckles, taking your hand in his.

"Don't worry, you didn't miss my birthday. It's just... it's been a year since you first came into Aurora."

"You remember?" you ask in amazement, your heart swelling with love for the man standing before you.

"Mm, how could I forget you? Also," he sneakily points to a table near the back, "my favorite couple is back."

You turn around, a soft gasp escaping your mouth as you find Mark gently holding the hands of his date. You smile happily when you finally notice it- the wedding ring, finally back on his finger.

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kitasgloves · 4 months ago

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if you're writing more of your 'comforting your insecure boyfriend' series maybe I suggest Hinata and Yamaguchi? My boys deserve it.

comforting your insecure bf

part 1 . part 2 . part 3

— ♬ NSFW, MINORS DNI, gn reader, based on this post

— ♬ omg i'm sorry this was late anon i was in a deppression but this brought me back to life. and yes, our boys deserve some comforting too ;)

— ♬ Hinata Shoyo

You and Hinata Shoyo go way back in high school. You and he were from different schools and had a fateful encounter during training camp in his second year. You were already in your third year when you met him. You were the kindhearted and quiet manager from one of the rival teams. What captured Hinata's interest was initially your looks, he might be exaggerating if he said you're the most ethereal person he has ever met.

You had glistening bright eyes, a lovely smile, and a melodic laugh. Not to mention, you happened to be taller than him! Your personality was in contrast to his. You were calm and collected, preferred to listen than talk, and genuinely enjoyed quiet moments. Unlike Hinata, who was a burst of energy and always searching for something new to try, especially when related to volleyball.

Despite his outgoing personality, Hinata found himself beyond shy when interacting with you. Perhaps, it had something to do with his silly crush on you. He'd avert his eyes away when you greeted him, stammer a reply, and dash away from you. Fortunately, you didn't interpret this as him having a particular dislike for you. If anything, you found it undeniably adorable.

So, on the last day of that fateful training camp, you approached him for the first time. Hinata went short-circuited as you stood in front of him. His heart was palpitating and he was afraid he was going to explode like a ticking timebomb at any second.

"Hey"

"H—Hi"

"Do you want to exchange phone numbers?"

What?

You were holding your phone while you suppressed a laugh when the shorter male's face burst into color. God, you just wanted to pinch his cheeks. Immediately, Hinata fishes for his phone in his pocket.

"Sure!"

You and the spiker had been texting each other nonstop since you both exchanged your numbers at training camp. You updated each other with even the tiniest things over the passing seasons, it was beyond endearing. You both couldn't deny there was a hint of growing affection as time flew by. Hinata was so refreshing and he fills you with a burst of energy, like an energy drink. It was after the new year when you and Hinata agreed to meet each other in person.

With flushed cheeks, you and he met each other dressed in layered clothes because winter had recently passed. You two visited the shrine, talked, and got food. The longer Hinata looked at you, the more he realized he was inevitably falling for you. Before the wonderful day ended, Hinata gained the courage to wrap you in his scarf and took your gloved hands. Your cheeks felt warmer than summer that day.

"I like you, [Name]"

He confesses. You could not contain yourself because you threw your arms around the smaller male and kissed him on the cheek. Hinata almost fainted on the spot. After that day, both of you decided to start dating. It was a year later when you both became official. Somehow with you in college and him in his third year, you both made it work.

Hinata was the perfect combination of a gentleman and a sweetheart that it made you swoon. Despite the height difference, he always carried you with ease. He gave you thoughtful gifts during your birthday and anniversaries. And your parents adored him so much too. You truly felt Hinata was the missing half of your soul.

"I'm going to Brazil"

You turn your head to look at him but Hinata avoids your eyes. Both of you were overlooking the sea after a fun date. You raised a brow.

"Why?"

You asked and he explained how he wanted to train in outdoor volleyball in a different country, he told you how he wanted to try different things, and he said that he wanted to find more ways to grow as an athlete. You chuckled. Yep, it was definitely something Hinata would do and you do admire him for that quality. Yet, you couldn't deny the ache in your chest thinking about how you'd be separated from him for god knows how long.

Hinata's lip wobbles when you reach down to clutch his hand, he can tell how hurt you will be because of his decision. However, you reassure him with a smile. All you want is what's best for him and what makes him happy. And this fills his heart to the brim.

"I'll be back before you know it"

"I'll be waiting for you, Sho"

You kissed him. Hinata realizes you were wearing the scarf he gave to you after he first confessed how he liked you, and he goes teary-eyed. Eventually, you accompanied him to the airport and gave him the tightest hug and longest kiss you could offer. Hinata couldn't wait to return to you. As you two talked over before, video calls were frequent. Even if over time it wasn't often, you two always maintained a connection.

Brazil seemed to be a fitting place for your boyfriend. All the pictures he sent to you of his progress showed how happy he was and you couldn't be more proud. He'd tell you about his journey with outdoor volleyball and learning Portuguese during video calls. One time he sent a picture of him and Oikawa Tooru coincidentally meeting there.

Although you felt lonely without Hinata by your side, you pushed through, because you knew he was bound to come home soon. Soon enough, Hinata returned to Japan and played in his new team the MSBY Black Jackals. You immediately got tickets to see him play against Adlers. You couldn't believe your eyes when Hinata made his entrance in the court after many years apart, tears welled up in your eyes when your boyfriend grinned at you.

He was here, he's finally home.

But god, it was hard to focus on what was going on with the match. Hinata looked so much hotter that it made you involuntary drool. First of all, the tan looks so good on him. And his muscles? Oh man, you couldn't wait to get some alone time with your boyfriend. You couldn't help the shameless ogling since you've been separated from him for so long.

You didn't mind who won the match, you were proud that your boyfriend was having a blast on the court. But when MSBY won, you leaped up from your seat and clapped for your boyfriend. Immediately after the match, Hinata went searching for you.

"Shoyo!"

"[Name]!"

You laughed as you ran up into his arms. Hinata scoops you up effortlessly and spins you around like you weigh nothing. You cling to him tightly with your arms around his neck while he presses tender kisses against your face. It felt like coming home. People watching the scene whistled and giggled with each other.

"I'm home, babe"

"Welcome home, love"

You two walked hand in hand as Hinata introduced you to his team. They all cheered and gave him wolfish grins. Hinata tries to shush them down with a blush when they invite you to go out for celebratory drinks. Your boyfriend's eyes bulged out of their sockets when you accepted the invitation.

So here you were, dancing in the club with a drink in hand. Sure, you were tipsy but you were far from drunk. You vibed with Bokuto Koutaro and Miya Atsumu from Hinata's team. Your boyfriend admittedly had one too many shots than he planned. He finished another round of alcohol before settling down near the bartender. His teammate, Sakusa Kiyoomi was there scolding him with a frown.

He spots you within the crowd dancing with Bokuto and Atsumu, he had the sudden urge to join too but his vision was beginning to spin. God, he hadn't drunk this much since his first year in Brazil. He tries to sober himself up with water from the bartender. From the looks of it, you were having the time of your life with his two teammates.

Slowly, a disgusting feeling rose within Hinata. No, he didn't feel like vomiting. He frowned when Atsumu spun you around on the dancefloor. It felt vague but familiar. He later realizes it was jealousy. Hinata sat up straight in his stool, that was childish! He's no longer a high schooler! He shouldn't be feeling green with envy. But he couldn't stop watching you laugh with Bokuto and Atsumu.

That envy eventually melted. Damn, he hated drinking because it made him emotional! Hinata thinks back to you and thought how lonely you must've been without him. He thought about how unfair it was for you to leave you for his improvement. You were probably aching with yearning for his touch and love while he was on the other side of the globe. You must be frustrated when you couldn't video call him often because of the different time zones.

Hinata's breath hitches. You're probably thinking about replacing him. God, what a horrible boyfriend he was! He's so selfish and you had every right to feel angry about it. Sakusa watched the shorter male stumble up from his seat and exit the club, he was about to follow him out but he hesitated. When you go searching for your boyfriend, Sakusa informs you that he has left the club.

You left multiple missed calls as you tried to contact Hinata. You sat outside the club with the rest of his teammates, worrying for half an hour. You almost collapsed with relief when he texted you "hotel" after so many attempts.

Hinata was lying on top of his hotel bed with his eyes puffy from sobbing. He felt so bad for abandoning you and making you worry. You truly don't deserve him. Suddenly, there's a soft knock on the door followed by your voice softly calling him. Hinata didn't respond as he sulked on his bed.

"Please, love. I just want to talk"

You pleaded. Unable to resist you, Hinata pulls himself up and trudges towards the door. You swiftly cupped his face in your hands when you saw the dejected look on his face.

"What's wrong, Sho?"

"I think we should break up"

Your heart comes to a screeching halt but you furiously shake your head. You can smell the alcohol in his breath and you know he was only intoxicated. Hinata didn't stop you from entering his hotel room as you shut the door and ushered him back to bed.

"Babe, we're not breaking up. You're just drunk"

"But I'm a horrible boyfriend!"

Hinata buried his face against his hands and the sight made your chest ache.

"Shoyo, you're not"

"Yes, I am. I'm so...selfish! And! And cruel! I left you here in Japan while I was being happy in Brazil"

You sighed as you picked his hands off from his face and held them tightly in your hands. You gave him a stern look.

"That's not true, Sho"

"Yes, it is! You should leave me and be happy with another guy that won't leave you. Find someone who's...*hiccup* taller! And better than volleyball!"

He turns to you with teary-eyes

"You should go date UshiWaka instead—OUCH!"

You scowled as you pinched his ear, harshly. Hinata winced as he saw the look on your face. You had enough of his drunken nonsense.

"I'm not going to break up with you, you idiot! And I'm not especially dating UshiWaka!"

You yell and your boyfriend whimpers at your scolding.

"You're drunk and none of those insecure thoughts are true!"

For emphasis, you force him to look at the mirror near the bed by grabbing his jaw and twisting his face towards the mirror, Hinata sniffs.

"Look how hot you are! You got a tan and you look more...beefier!"

"But I left you—"

"NO YOU DIDN'T, YOU DUMBASS!"

This time you smacked him in the head, which you immediately regretted. Was there any way for you to convince your dumbass boyfriend that he's the best in the world? While Hinata rubbed the place where you smacked him in the head, his heart froze when he saw a dark look on your face.

Oh no, was he in danger?

Nope, he was way far from danger. Hinata's safe, in your arms, sobbing, half-naked, and with his rock-hard dick in your hand. You were positioned behind him with your face buried against the crook of your boyfriend's neck. Hinata's breath was labored as his vision went hazy from pleasure.

"[Name]—ah!"

He whined and involuntarily bucked his hips upward when you began massaging his cockhead. Your cheek rubs against his right temple as you place chaste kisses down his neck. Hinata shudders. It seemed like he was suddenly sober with the way you began jerking him off in front of the mirror. There was no way he could've predicted this at all.

"Look at the mirror, look how pretty you are, Sho"

You purred against his ear. His eyes met his reflection and he nearly rolled his eyes back. He was half-naked with his legs spread and his orange locks were disheveled. He positively looked like a hot mess, moaning and sweating while you gave him a mindblowing handjob from behind. Fuck, your hand felt like magic around his cock. He let out a strangled moan when you started playing with his balls.

"Oh? Does my beloved boyfriend like it when I play with his balls?"

"[Name] please—"

"Do you want me to go faster?"

"Yes, hah—please"

When the pace of your hand turns faster, Hinata goes cross-eyed. He can feel his orgasm approaching and it's stealing his every breath. Your free hand grabs his jaw and forces him to watch himself fall apart in front of the mirror.

"You're the sweetest and kindest boyfriend in the world, Shoyo"

You whispered against his ear. Hinata whimpers as tears begin to gather in his lashline. The look on your face was sincere and tender and it soothes the ache in his heart.

"You always make me smile with your funny jokes and your cute smile"

"You have a heart of gold"

"My boyfriend is so sweet, loving, hardworking, and talented"

You showered him with compliments and it makes Hinata lightheaded. He feels like he's getting drunk again from the pleasure of your hand vigorously pumping his cock and from your affectionate reassurances. Suddenly, the pace of your hand slows down as you look at your boyfriend in the eye through the mirror.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking about when I heard you were coming home?"

Hinata inhales sharply as he catches his breath, his hands were clutching on both of your thighs as he gripped on for dear life. He gulps.

"Wh—what?"

You chuckled darkly as you went in to bite his earlobe with a devilish smile.

"I was thinking about you bending me in half and fucking me in your hotel room until I couldn't walk for a week"

With the confession, it plants a lewd and tantalizing imagery in your boyfriend's head. Fuck, were you thinking about that all along while you were waiting for him to get home? All this time, you just wanted Hinata to dick you down? Oh, he loved that thought as much as it embarrassed him. He does want to bury his cock in you until you saw stars—

"Ah, ah, ah! [Name]!"

Hinata screams your name as his orgasm crashes down on him. You watched your boyfriend burst through the seams with a choked sob as he threw his head back. Spurts of his cum coat both your hands and his abdomen. You gently guided him through his release. As soon as Hinata's vision re-focuses, he sees you smiling at him through the mirror. He couldn't help but smile back.

"How's that? Did that get rid of those stupid insecure thoughts, Sho?"

"It did, thank you, [Name]"

He reaches to kiss you on the cheek and you giggle. You were prepared to help Hinata clean up and cuddle to sleep with him but he suddenly grabs your arm. You flinch and look at your boyfriend, your heart skips a beat when you recognize a carnal look in his eyes.

"...Can I bend you in half and fuck you until you couldn't walk?"

Hinata asks politely. You can't even answer because he's already tugging your pants down with an eager grin on his face.

— ♬ Yamaguchi Tadashi

You perceived Yamaguchi Tadashi as a modest and hardworking co-worker. Some would say he's a cute guy and you'd agree. He'd show up early for work and would greet everyone with a smile. It was because of that smile that urged you to wake up early so that he could greet you. Your closest colleges would tease you during lunch break about your tiny crush on the guy, it felt silly blushing about it because it made you feel more like a high schooler than an adult.

Sooner though, you tried to make subtle advances on Yamaguchi. You'd begin to dress nicely for work and he'd notice and then compliment you. If you got to work earlier, you'd buy him coffee which he was grateful for. You began ditching your friends during lunch break to ask him if he wanted to eat lunch with you. And you and he began hanging out outside of work.

You continued for a month and became close with Yamaguchi. In return, he would share snippets about his life. He offered you glimpses of his interests like his favorite kind of Onigiri and how he used to play volleyball back in high school. After a long period of denial, you recognize that you have become head over heels with Yamaguchi.

Naturally, you panicked. You didn't know how to deal with these affections for your co-worker. You began to overthink. Would he ever return your feelings? Should you confess? Is he even your type? These thoughts send you into a frenzy that you can't sleep properly at night. One day, you arrive at work with a fever. You didn't recognize it at first until you found yourself unable to perform any work that day.

"[Name]? Are you okay?"

Yamaguchi peeked at you and saw you with your head resting on top of your desk. Your skin was flushed so he instinctively went to check your temperature by pressing the back of his hand against your forehead.

"You caught a fever! You should go home!"

He insisted. You groaned as you cast a tired look at him. Yamaguchi was sending you a concerned look that made your skin more flushed at the thought of how he must've genuinely cared for you. So, in a feverish delirium, you suddenly confessed to him.

"I'm in love with you, Tadashi"

Yamaguchi momentarily froze. Eventually, he gently leads you by the hand, wraps you in his jacket, and takes you home. You couldn't forget how he took care of you. He bought you medicine and cooked you soup. He constantly checked on your temperature. It was no surprise that you had a quick recovery. You were eternally grateful for his kindness.

"Oh, how will I ever repay you, Tadashi?"

"Go on a date with me"

He replies and your heart leaps out of your chest. It turns out, Yamaguchi reciprocated your feelings. Your romance with him began smoothly. You and he became famous for being the co-workers who fell in love with each other and started dating. There was an onslaught of teasing and bantering for a while from both of your colleagues.

You and Yamaguchi became official six months later. He took you out on cute dates and never missed an anniversary. He introduces you to his closest friends from high school and you introduce him to your family. Everything felt like a picturesque love story, that's what you thought.

Although Yamaguchi was happy with you, he didn't feel worthy of everything. He used to have trouble with accepting his worth even back when he was playing volleyball in high school. He had doubts about his abilities and took a long time of encouragement from other people to help him believe in his capabilities. But for some reason, it's beginning to feel bad again.

Somehow, within himself, Yamaguchi finds it difficult to accept how ordinary he is. Perhaps after being surrounded by extraordinary and talented people such as his friends back in high school, he's convinced that there isn't anything special about him. He's just...ordinary. And he's afraid that you'd grow bored of him or expect something from him that he couldn't offer.

Your boyfriend has been quiet during the following days. He's been reassuring you that he was okay or that he was just tired from work, but know him well enough that something was bothering him. Now, you're cuddling under the sheets with him while a movie plays in the background. You were relaxing with Yamaguchi after a stressful week at work. Usually, you and your boyfriend would talk or joke around during peaceful moments like these, but he's uncharacteristically quiet.

"Babe? Are you okay?"

"...Yeah, I'm good"

He answers distractedly and it bothers you. Yamaguchi sees you sitting up and your hand reaches to touch his cheek. He instinctively leans against your touch, but the look of uncertainty etched across his features. He felt guilty for not sharing his troubles with you, after all, you wanted an honest relationship with him. But his insecurities were preventing him from being open with you. He was afraid that you would leave him if you found out he was lying to you. Yamaguchi takes a sharp inhale.

"...[Name], do you think I'm boring?"

He asks. You raised a brow at him and tilted your head.

"No, why would you think of that?"

"I know you said we should be honest and...and I just want you to tell me if you're getting...bored of me"

"Babe, I'm not bored of you"

You rolled your eyes. Yamaguchi averts his gaze as he peels himself away from your touch. Concern flashes through your orbs.

"Tadashi? What's wrong?"

"I...I think I'm not the right guy for you, [Name]"

Your boyfriend replies as he faces away from you. There was an offended look on your face, you crawled towards him and embraced him from behind.

"That's not true, honey. I knew you were the one for me when you took care of me when I was sick"

"But...but what if..."

"What if...?"

"What if you grow sick of me?"

You frowned. Yamaguchi sounded like he was on the verge of sobbing and it honestly sent an awful feeling in your chest.

"What if you grow sick of me? What if I can't give you what you want anymore? What if I can't be enough for you? What if I'm stuck with being ordinary?"

He began to ramble and you have to stop him by grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. You shook your head and gave him a stern look.

"That's stupid. I'll never be sick of you, love. And what's wrong with being ordinary?"

Yamaguchi doesn't seem to be reassured when he turns away and stares at his reflection in your large mirror by the bedside. He takes in his features, his ordinary features. There were dark bags under his eyes, his complexion was pale, and his lips looked dry. He buries his face against his hands and feels his eyes grow wet. The sight of your boyfriend in despair because of his inner demons was heartbreaking for you. If only there was a way to comfort him, to knock some sense out of him, to...

An idea spawns in your head. Your eyes trailed on your boyfriend's hunched figure. You gulped. Out of all the ideas possible, an...inappropriate one has to be the one that seemed foolproof. You wanted to hold back thinking Yamaguchi wouldn't be okay with it, but the idea seemed so...attractive and tempting that your mind screamed for you to give it a try. Who knows? Your beloved boyfriend might enjoy it.

Puzzled, Yamaguchi can feel your hand wrapping around his waist. He was about to pull them away until your hands began to pry on the waistband of his sweatpants. His breath hitched as you positioned from behind him and pulled his pants down. An embarrassed yelp exits his mouth when you expose his lower half.

"[Name]! Wh—what are you do—doing—oh shit!"

You wrapped your delicate hands around his dick and he hisses. Yamaguchi's heart begins to palpitate wildly against his ears. He scrambles as his hands reach out to grab the sheets. His breath comes to a halt when you begin to give languid strokes on his cock. When your boyfriend melts under your touch you take it as a sign to continue.

"You doing good, baby?"

Yamaguchi nods as you smiled and ran your hand on his cockhead to smear the forming pre-cum all over his length. He shudders at the intoxicating sensation. He whimpers when you experimentally began toying with his ballsack. One of his hands went to grab your thigh. You leaned your face against his ear and exhaled.

"God, look at you, Tadashi"

Reluctantly, Yamaguchi trails his eyes to the mirror by the bedside. His eyes went wide at the lewd sight. He was half-naked with his fully-erect cock in your hands while you stroked him from behind. Sweat gathered all over his body and his skin was flushed. He looked pathetically submissive under your touch. It would be a lie if he said he didn't like it.

"Does my boyfriend want to cum?"

"Oh fuck—yes, please"

With his plead, your hand around his member speeds up. The pace sends him whining out loud and throwing his head back. Suddenly, you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look towards the mirror.

"I want you to look at yourself when you cum like a good boy"

You whispered hotly against his ear and his breathing just stops. Yamaguchi goes cross-eyed when you began to jerk him off even faster.

"When I look in the mirror, I don't see an ordinary man. I see my sweetest boyfriend in the world"

"It's heartbreaking to know you see yourself as boring when you were everything to me, Tadashi"

"No ordinary man would be more capable of stealing my heart than you, darling"

Yamaguchi gazes at you in the eye through the mirror and his heart simply melts. He knows you meant every word and at that moment he never felt so loved. You laugh as you playfully bite the shell of his ear.

"With you moaning like that babe, I think I want to call in sick tomorrow so you can fuck me until the morning"

Oh fuck

The idea was enough to send Yamaguchi to the edge. You watched with satisfaction as he wildly bucks his hips up with his eyes rolled back, completely at the mercy of his release. His rich cum landed on your hands as you stared with fascination. After his earth-shattering orgasm, Yamaguchi goes limp in your arms. You wait until he catches his breath.

"How is my hardworking, handsome, and sweet boyfriend doing?"

He chuckles as he sits upright and regains his composure. Your boyfriend turns around and gives you a tender kiss. He gently strokes your hair.

"Thank you, [Name]. I needed that"

"Anything for you, Tadashi"

You smile brightly up at him. The movie in the background ended with the credits rolling, Yamaguchi glances at the clock and hums in thought.

"I think I'm going to call in sick tomorrow"

"Huh? Why?"

There was a suggestive look on your boyfriend's face that it sends an exciting shiver down your spine.

"How about we both call in sick tomorrow and let me fuck you how you like it, yeah?"

#— ♬ with love; kitasgloves #— ♬ signed by; kitasgloves #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hinata shouyou #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata x reader #hinata x you #yamaguchi tadashi #yamaguchi tadashi x reader #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi x you

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