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mermaidgirl30 · 3 days

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✨Pulled by the Scarlet Reins✨

Witch Trial! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: I came up with this one-shot idea by listening to “Cassandra” by Taylor Swift! I hope you enjoy, and please give me all your feedback and thoughts 🩵 This one is a bit angsty. No beta readers. Nervous and excited to share this one!

Summary: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: So much angst, hurt Joel, soft Joel, switching POVs, witch trial au, talk of death, grief, smut, oral receiving (fem), unprotected piv, creampie, protective Joel, yearning, pining, Joel seeks revenge, religious trauma

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The weather is cloudy, the sky full of windblown fire ash as another innocent woman is burned to death. You can smell the flesh rotting, hear the excruciating screams fill the amber colored sky as you mourn the loss of Cassandra.

It happened months ago, but you still hear it. The agonizing pleas as she begged for someone to save her, but she couldn’t be saved, not here. She was the only friend you had in this godforsaken town called Salem. She was your best friend, your soul sister, family.

They’re all gone now. Dead, murdered. Now you have no one. You’re all alone in a town hellbent to burn all the innocents they call witches. And you hate it, despise everything about this evil place. You just want to run far, far away from here. What a dream that would be, to get away from the gut wrenching noise of the town named for murders.

David is the worst of them. The priest of the ungodly church, with his cold blue eyes, a snarl that bites anything he touches, slicked back blonde hair that sets fire to innocent women. He’s a devil disguised as a savior, tricking any man into following him into the depths of despair. You hate the man, hate this fucked up town, but escape is death, too. But what’s worse? Getting mauled by a bear or getting burned to death at the stake? You’d take the bear mauling over all of it.

It’s simple enough. You break the rules, do anything to get noticed by the Protestant men of the town, and you get executed. It doesn’t matter if you plead a case, doesn’t matter if you can prove you’re innocent, doesn’t even fucking matter if you’re a member of the goddamn church. If you do anything any of them don’t like, you get hung or worse, burned.

So now all you have is this little wooden house made by the rough hands of dirty men, men you’d rather not speak about. All you have are memories of Cassandra sharing your space, her essence still swirling around this lonely room as you pace back and forth day after day trying to hold on to memories that once belonged to you. When you had a friend, when you weren’t so alone, but now you were left with the haunted ghosts of this town.

Sometimes they show up at your doorstep when it’s calm and quiet after midnight, spreading their cries of warning to flee the area. But where would you run to? Who would you have? No one. But you don’t have anyone now, so what does it matter? You’re dead either way.

You lull around your house, assessing the various shapes and colors of bottles you hold your collected herbs in, twisting the lids on tightly and lining them up neatly across the tall oak shelf. Green lush vines and pink tulips hang across the wide layout of the large glass window, where the sun kisses their gorgeous leaves and makes them grow and thrive in a state of wonder. This house is your only safe haven. Outside is a blood soaked warzone, filled with snakes and gossips that you’d rather avoid.

You don’t engage with the toxic church in town; you stopped going right after Cassandra was accused and sentenced to death. Nothing could make you go back to those haunted paint covered church pews, listening to the priest that spews venom about anything and everything he can. You’re a prisoner to this town of hatred, mourning losses of fallen friends and family members who you’d never see again. You’d never conform to this, you’d find a way out. Someday, somehow. You’d get the freedom you so desperately seeked.

Just when you start assessing some sprouting lilac petals, the wooden door slams open with a bang, making the entire house quiver under the sudden strike. You jump back, watching the potted lilacs fall to the floor as the ceramic pot smashes to tiny pieces. You feel cold, icy hands push you against the wall, holding you back as you watch the hateful men tear apart the only thing you have left in this sunken town.

“What’s this, hmm? Practicing magic in my town?” David seethes as he holds up a bottle of fresh sage and smashes it to the ground, the glass shattering into tiny pieces like your own heart feels like.

“No, those are my plants!” You scream in horror as he continues to smash each bottle one by one, piece by piece.

“They don’t look like just plants to me, sunshine. Looks to me like you’ve been meddling in the devil’s affairs,” David snarls as he breaks another bottle of lavender.

“No, that’s not it! Please, STOP!” You yell as the men push you back against the covered blue wallpaper. You fight with all your might to break away from their hold, but it’s no use. You have to just stand there in shambles watching your entire life fall apart before your tear soaked eyes.

“Shut up, witch! Bite your tongue, you little devil,” he snarls as he comes over in front of you and fists the front of your dress as you see violent, icy eyes stare into your soul. “Now, you’re going to see what the consequences of being friends with Cassandra are. Following in her footsteps, pathetic! Just watch what happens to witches who don’t pay attention in church.”

He tosses you back against the wall as you watch him slowly destroy your safe little haven. He breaks every single glass bottle in the house, tears apart every vine and flower that sits atop your kitchen counter, flips over granite tables, and destroys everything you ever loved in this space you called home.

You feel completely defeated, your silent screams making you dizzy as you plead for him to stop, crying out until your throat runs dry and wet tears stain your crimson cheeks. You watch him pull apart the last of Cassandra’s things, watch him murder her all over again as he lights a match and sets her golden heart locket necklace ablaze.

��“No!” You shout, scream till your throat is completely on fire as you watch him spread the flames to your destroyed treasures.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you out of the house, your white dress snagging on the ground as you become covered in grass stains and dirt, your scalp feeling like it’s about to be pulled off completely as you thrash against his hold.

“Witch!” He screams to the growing crowd as they all gather around to watch the next innocent life be taken from the haunted town, except none of them even offer to help. They just stand silent or yell accusations at you as you sit fragile on the soaked grass, feeling the weight of all the hate crash down on you like you really are guilty. You’re not though, you’re just an innocent girl whose life got ripped in half by a lying devil of a man.

“Burn it down! Destroy it! Kill the witch!” The horrible words come bellowing out of the community’s mouths, feeding David hate as he smirks your way and nods at the men.

“Do it,” he snarls. And they listen, just like they always do. They set your house ablaze, lighting matches and pouring gasoline until you see nothing but orange flames dance across the entirety of your house.

“No, no, NO!” You muster up all your strength and push yourself off the damp ground, planning to make a run towards the crumbling house as it starts to topple from the hot flames of the ignited fire.

“Stay back, witch! We aren’t done with you yet.” One of the men pushes you down, and you feel your palms scrape against the rough ground, feeling blood soak the green grass as your fingernails dig into the cold dirt. You try to get a grip on reality, try to drown out all the screaming chants your way, but it’s no use. They’re echoing all around your mind, stabbing stakes into your body as you feel their filthy nails dig like chalk into your skin, smothering you in hate that you can barely tolerate. Your ears bleed, seep blood as you muster all of your strength to lift your aching head off the dirt covered ground.

You see the hateful snarls of the people, see the way they point accusing fingers and call you witch again and again until your brain starts to fog over like a thick mist. You feel the warm tears spill down your embarrassed cheeks, feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as they cast you down in shame with scornful threats and vulgar gestures. And you’ve never felt more alone than you do now in this little town of deceitful fools.

You feel the kick of someone’s boot, feel your shoulders being pushed down into a clump of wilting grass as you grunt and lay flat against the hollow earth. You feel as if you’re a tiny insect, its wings being torn off and ripped to shreds as the beautiful monarch butterfly dies in the hands of the vengeful enemies. You’re nothing but a speck of dried up filth now, and that makes you feel so defeated.

With every ounce of energy you have left in your frayed body, you dig your nails into the dirt, grunt out in pain as you lift yourself on your hands and knees, trying to ignore the rustling of burning wood and screams of past ghosts that were burnt in the flames time and time again.

You slowly lift your head, feeling a bit dizzy as the town lifts their semblance of pitchforks and dusty bibles in their hands, shouting angry chants at you to “Burn the witch” as they spit and crowd around you. Every single one of them follows David’s advances, snarling and bellowing death threats your way as you stare hopelessly into the sea of misled bodies. All of them twisting their words and spewing violence your way.

Your teary eyes scan the crowd, looking around for someone, anyone to help you, but there’s no one. No one that’ll take the risk. Your gaze covers the sea, eyelashes drenched in wet tears as your bottom lip quivers in fright. All you see are monsters in front of you, all around you, their claws lashing against your innocent skin as they spill blood over the town of Salem. Not a lick of remorse in their bodies as they continue to take innocent lives again and again. But that’s what they want, what they were taught to do. They never learned it was all a false lore to kill the ones who didn’t obey him. David. A false god on an altar made of death and bones of burnt bodies.

You hear the chants continue, feel the warmth from the bitter flames that took everything from you in an instant as your house sits in ash behind you. You can barely look up, barely keep your fingernails embedded in the soft grass, but you do. You can’t let them break you, even if you are already broken when they took it all away from you. Starting with Cassandra, then your family, then your home, your plants, your precious memories that were tucked away safely in that house. Now you have nothing. So maybe dying won’t be the worst thing because you already died the moment they took it all away from you. Now you’re just a corpse among this godforsaken town. They already burned everything you loved, what was another body in an ashy fire?

Your throat burns, no more tears left inside you as you feel the sting of bloodshot eyes scan the angry crowd again, enduring the weight of hatred sitting on your chest like you’ve been covered in gravel rocks, the heaviness consuming your insides until you can’t breathe, can’t speak. You’re just there, unalive, drowning in hate filled screams.

Your heart slows as you drown out the shouting voices, eyes swarming the sea of people until you see one that stands out amongst the others. In the very back, unmoving, not screaming death threats like the others, not making a sound as he watches with remorse covering the dark shadows of his sorrow filled eyes.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare at him, your gaze finding a safe haven in those flecks of honey colored irises that shine a little light down on you. He’s not like the others, no. He’s gentle, kind, a little rough around the edges, but it’s him that pulls you out of the flames, if only for just a few seconds. Joel Miller. The man that was never like the others.

He may be broken, may be hollow and bruised beneath his broken military watch, a mere ghost dragging his worn leather boots through the dirt just to get by in this miserable town day after day. The entire town may think little of him, may think he’s scum underneath their shiny church shoes, but you never did. No. He was the only thing that kept your head above water. The only light you saw.

He watches you carefully, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His fingers flex, jaw clenching as he looks at you with pain in those flecks of warmth. You feel the sadness and agony reflect in your teary eyes, feel exactly what he must’ve suffered when they took the life of Sarah, his only daughter, his only family, but now she’s gone. Just withered ashes in the blowing wind. And you feel it then as the sorrow takes over those cloudy dark eyes, can see it in the way he holds his tired muscles as he hunches his large shoulders. He wants to help, but he can’t. They’d just pull him by his grey threaded tousled curls and throw him in the grave, bury him alive while he suffocates in the damp dirt that holds the bones of his now dead child.

You feel a leaking teardrop escape one of your glossy eyes, your gaze never leaving his even as some men start to drag you away towards the haunted church. They pull your hair, digging their rough cut nails into your damaged skin as you watch Joel’s brows knit together, the lines mapping out on his forehead as he fists his clenched fingers at his sides.

While everyone else follows to the church, Joel stays behind. His large silhouette fading away when they drag you up the rough staircase and into the dimly lit church, throwing your body into the middle of the pews as they laugh and cast evil remarks your way.

You keep your head down as David reprimands you, tossing you against the dusty white walls while your fingernails rip into the fading paint. There’s nothing you can do or say, they’ve made up their mind. You’ll be burned at dawn the next day. This is it. They might as well give you a noose, let you tie yourself to a tree and end it all. You’d rather it be that way than watch the people you hate burn you alive.

You just face the blood soaked wall, curling your body into a tight ball as they tear you to shreds. You never were meant to be in this town, with these people. You just got unlucky, and now you’d die with the innocent souls of the lives they took day after day. And now you’d burn with them.

Joel watches them take you away, dragging you to the church by your lifeless arms and your long locks of hair. He doesn’t follow, can’t bear the sight of watching another innocent life be thrown into the flames. His fingers flex, jaw clenched into a tight fist as he flares his nostrils. He can’t stand to see you hurting, could barely watch as they took everything from you and burned your house to black ashes. And your face. That beautiful, innocent face he was so captivated by. He can’t even muster the anger that sits in his heavy soul.

You don’t deserve this, any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t say a damn thing to draw attention to yourself. It all started with Cassandra, the first innocent woman that ever lost her life, and then it spiraled from there.

He knows the feeling of loss, knows exactly how it feels to have the most important thing snatched from his own rough hands. He went through that hell, watched his own daughter get accused of witchcraft in the walls of the unholy church. He fought like hell, throwing his body over his Sarah as they dragged her from his reach and held him back so they could tear her to shreds.

He cursed them out, damning them all to hell while they bound her hands and spilled holy water all over her body. He still hears her agonizing screams night after night, still sees her body alight with flames while they held him down against the mud and made him watch while he screamed in suffering with tear soaked eyes. He remembers it all, remembers them threatening his life after he got up and almost beat a man to death. His knuckles were bloody, body broken as they pushed him down and knocked him out with the back of a wooden plank.

He remembers everything. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror of living day after day in a town full of demons. And now he bleeds himself dry night after night, day after day. He has nothing left to give, no fight in him now. Now he’s just a hollow body, a broken man cursed to live in a place he so desperately despises. He wants out. God, does he want out.

But now there’s you. The woman he’s pined after for months. The rare beauty that captured his black heart, a ray of sunshine that showed him the light. It was the small smiles and grazing of skin, the gifted flowers, the afternoon small talks in the wildflower fields. He wishes he got the chance to kiss you, to tell you how much you saved him after his daughter was taken from him. But now it’s too late. He couldn’t save Sarah, and now he can’t save you. And it kills him, it fucking kills him.

He hears your gut wrenching screams, hears the crowd chant “Witch” repeatedly as his ears bleed dry. He covers his ears, kneels on the ground as dirt covers the fabric of his worn pants. He can’t hear it, can’t bear to know they’re torturing you. He wants to murder all of them, burn the whole goddamn town down, and maybe he will. Maybe this will push him to his last straw. He certainly won’t watch them burn you. No. He has to do something, anything.

He knows they’ll either throw you in a jail cell with venomous snakes or they’ll tie you and leave you in the field overnight. Where bears, creatures of the night, or monsters can take you out before the crack of dawn. He knows they’ll burn you early in the morning, crowd your body with hateful accusations and weapons they use like pitchforks. They won’t give you a chance to explain or to show you’re not guilty. They’ll just swallow your cries whole with their fiery tongues and amber ashes as they set your body alight.

He can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t stand the thought of it. But what can a broken man do in a ruined town filled with cult following people that call themselves saints. He hates them, all of them. But he hates himself the most for not being able to save the people he cared most about.

He has to save you, even if it gets himself killed. For he’d rather stand on the thresholds of death with the fiery flames than see your gorgeous face melt into the depths of red embers. He’d walk through the black mist of hell, cross the fiery lakes of no return just to touch the softness of your skin.

You were innocent, a pure angel in a broken world. He wasn’t going to watch you die. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.

They leave you tied to a post in the middle of the field, a little ways out from the sparkling lights from the little town. They gave you no room to move, gave you no remorse when you whined at the sharp rope digging into your skin. They only laughed at you, spitting hateful words as they left you alone in the chill of night.

Now you sulk against the rough bindings, tears streaming down your now wet face, nowhere to go, no one to call. You’re just here. Alone. Hours away from being burned in the field. The one where lost lives cry into the darkness of night, their haunted pleas and screams still filling your ears. You’d cover your ears if you could, drown out the noise with your own cries, but it’s too late. Soon enough you’ll join in on the chorus of the dead.

You rest your head on the rough post, look up at the blinking stars in the night sky, try to relax and calm your mind. Soon you’ll float up there while your body burns alive. Maybe there you won’t feel any pain, won’t feel anything that might hurt you. And that’s all you can think as the numbness drowns the anxiety out of your frail body.

Your mind starts to slip to a warmer place, an untouched place that hasn’t been quite explored. A nook deep in your mind that reflects soft brown irises and scents of freshly brewed coffee. Somewhere where you wished you could’ve spent more time, got closer, pushed aside all boundaries and slipped against his plush lips.

Joel Miller, the only man that had been remotely kind to you in this tainted town. You remember that day in the flower field. That warm, sunny day. He had been so close, his breath blowing against your cheek, his crooked smile shining rays of light against your delicate skin. You felt it, the tension, the longing, the raging desire that almost spilled out of the cracks of broken skin on his calloused fingers. God, you wish you could’ve felt those warm lips melting into yours. All you wanted was one kiss, but now it was too late. You’d never feel his touch again.

You groan into the worn post, feel the tears begin to lick the sides of your eyes, dig your hands against the jagged rope that cuts into your reddening skin. The more you tug, the more the rope shreds your aching skin. You wince, struggling to stand comfortably in this position. You finally give up, relax as much as you can and kiss tomorrow goodbye. You won’t last long after the sun rises high in the sky.

Minutes tick by, the seconds struggling to give you an ounce of redemption. This was it. You were going to die alone, no dreamy sunkissed brown irises to soothe you to sleep, no gravelly voice to tell you everything would be alright. He wouldn’t be there to save you in the end.

The tears crash over you, silent cries to the fading ghosts of Salem, begging for them to send a message, pleading for one to slip their cold whisps of fingers to untangle you from this rope so you can run far away, far from Salem.

You close your eyes and pray to anyone that may be listening to send someone, anyone. This can’t be the end, it just can’t.

You slump your head low, feeling your tears dry on your cold cheeks, eyelashes wet with old tears. This is it, this is…

You hear a loud snap in the near distance, hear leather boots crunching against the green grass. Your head shoots up, eyes searching for whatever made the pacing noises in the middle of the night. Your eyes go wide when you see the large form emerging from the shadows, broad shoulders pulling at the blue flannel button-up with each step he takes, rough hands balled into tight fists. Joel.

Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly forget to breathe. He stands in front of you, deep brown eyes that reflect sadness of his warm irises, furrowed brows as he slides his eyes over your weathered form, your frayed dress, the claw marks that run down to your bound hands. His lips flinch, jaw clenches as he takes in just what they did to you inside the church. It’s like he consumes your pain, bathes in it, shares your scars that David and the town marked you in.

“Joel,” you whisper in a broken tone as a fresh tear slides down the side of your face. He sighs, feeling the sting of a tear in the back of his throat. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a muted mutter that sounds a lot like your name spilling off his tongue.

He huffs, clambers over to you and cuts the rope with one slice of the silver knife, freeing your burning wrists as you stumble from the post and fall against his broad chest, his arms stabilizing you from falling to the ground.

You flick your eyes up to his slowly, letting his calloused palms linger on your skin as he grounds you back to earth. You’re so cold, the chilly air marking your skin, but he’s so warm, even with just his hands on you. Warm sunlight, that’s what he is.

“Joel, you saved me…” you whisper, voice unstable as your shaky breath escapes your lungs.”Why did you…”

He stares at you, amber flecks glimmering in the moonlight as he takes a deep, steady breath. “You’re innocent. I couldn’t jus’ stand back and watch ‘em torture you like they did with… well, you know. Sarah… I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I jus’… couldn’t watch you burn, too,” he says sadly, his shaky breath blowing against your face.

There’s a second of tension in the air, a breath of something different between the two of you. Just two bodies that simply burn for the other, even if no words are said. It’s there. It’s right here, right now.

“You never were like the others, you know?” He takes one hand and cradles it on your cheek, taking the tip of his calloused thumb and sliding it up and down gently as you lean into him, into his warm embrace.

His eyes flick down to your lips, your eyes begging him to lean in, to take exactly what he’s wanted to do for so very long. Your hand is clasped around his wrist, not willing to let go until his lips are on yours.

The air around you stills, the forest behind you now quiet, only the sounds of yours and Joel’s ragged breaths coming in waves, only the quickening heartbeats that quake with every touch of his calloused fingers to your skin.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

His forehead rests on yours, lips brushing carefully against yours. You’re so close, so close to him pressing all his weight into you. He practically shouts your name as his lips draw near. One more move and he’d close all the way in.

Just when you close your eyes and wait with anticipation biting at your heels, he’s pulling away from you and running his fingers through his disheveled curls. You try to reach out, but he steps out of your reach and nods his head in the direction of the dark forest.

“Go on, get out of here. Before they come lookin’ for ya. Go, now.” His voice is deep, rugged, tormented, his dark eyes glistening with held back tears like he’s fighting himself from telling you to leave.

“But…”

“Please, jus’ go. If they found you they’d…” His voice drowns out as he hangs his head low, the shadows fading against the greying scruff of his patchy beard.

You turn your head and look towards the muted forest. The one that holds tormented ghosts and creatures of the dark. A place you don’t want to go alone, but anywhere would be better than this horror town. But Joel… you can’t seem to leave him behind.

You snap your head towards him and whisper, “Come with me.”

He lifts his tired head and stares at you, all wide-eyed and searching your anguished face. “What?” His voice is strangled, like he can’t believe what you’re asking him to do.

“Come with me,” you repeat slowly. “There’s nothing here holding you back. I… you… we both had everything taken from us. And I don’t want to leave if that means you’re stuck here alone. You and me… well, we’re the same.”

He takes a beat to register your words, dips inside his own mind as he relives the day they took Sarah, the day they forced him to watch while his world got torn to shreds. You hold out your hand, and he just stares wide-eyed at it, his fingers curling out, just like he wants to take your hand. He does, he really does, but there’s just one thing holding him back. David.

He flicks his eyes to the sleeping town and then back at you, as if he has an agenda to get to. He nods his head and looks your way, a plan already set in motion in those flecks of honey. “There’s jus’ one thing I need to do first.”

“What’s that?” you ask, interest arising with your quiet voice.

He looks back to the hollow town, and his eyes narrow and slit together as he sets fire in his mind to this haunted place. His hand clenches into a tight fist, and he spits venom from his tongue. “We’re gonna burn it all down.”

Your mouth gapes open in shock, eyes wide, but then he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him. The wind whips through your hair, your heart thunders through your chest when he drags you along back into the dark town.

He wastes no time and grabs a large container of gasoline and starts spreading it all along the houses and buildings of the eerie town. You follow along, grabbing your own container and spilling it over bells of hay and wooden boards. You douse everything you see, wanting to burn every single inch of this religious town, wanting to destroy David, the culprit of all this land of turmoil and destruction.

You move quickly, barely making a sound as you soak a large ring around the town, watching Joel march up to David’s closed door with a deep scowl on his face. Your eyes go wide as you watch him go through, barely waiting a minute before he’s dragging David by the scruff of his neck, giving him no breath to himself.

“What the fuck is this, let me go!” David screams as he kicks and claws at the denim of Joel’s jeans.

“No,” he growls as he shoves David’s face into the dirt and kicks him hard in the gut, David’s face contorting into blind rage and pain.

“This is for my daughter, for not lettin’ her go when she was an innocent little girl,” he seethes as he lands a strong kick under David’s chin, spewing blood every which way.

“This is for holdin’ me down and makin’ me watch as you burned her alive. This is for murderin’ my only child, the only thing that kept me sane in this fuckin’ church goin’ town.” He punches a fist against his nose, hearing the crack of bones as David topples over and holds his broken nose.

“This is for tryin’ to take away the only other woman that ever shined sunlight in this godforsaken town. This is for burnin’ all her plants, her house, for killin’ everyone she had left. This is for tryin’ to take her away from me.”

There’s tears streaming down his worn, tanned face now, pieces of grief and exhaustion reflecting off his glassy brown eyes, hurt mapped along the wrinkled lines on his forehead, pain bleeding from the surface of his now bruised knuckles.

You stand there watching him silently, feeling a wet tear fall down your cheek as you consume the pain he’s felt all these years, all the grief that’s hung like a dead weight on his broad shoulders. And you suddenly feel like you understand him completely. He’s broken, just like you are, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and tell him that you’re here for him, he’s safe with you, always.

Another kick and another punch to the face, an endless cycle of taking all his rage and hate on David, the man that took everything from him. After a few seconds he looks up from the ground, a large hand wrapped around David’s bloody collar, a fist hanging just inches from his bruised up face. He stops dead in his tracks as his glistening, tear filled eyes look up at you, and that’s when you feel everything he’s ever felt.

You take a few cautious steps in his direction, feel another tear lick the corner of your eye, feel your heart shatter with every step you take closer to him. He just watches you, deep breaths leaving his lungs, his tired eyes pleading for someone, anyone to help.

One more step and you’re right beside him, reaching a hand out to run calmly through his dark, tousled locks, Joel searching your eyes for a way to escape his misery. He leans into your touch, allows your fingers to slide through his hair, even closes his eyes as a low groan escapes his plush lips.

Another moment passes gently by, and then he’s rolling David out of the way and wrapping his strong arms tightly around your legs, letting hot tears slide down his face as they hit your bare skin. You let him bury himself in you, let him take the comfort he needs as he grasps you tighter, his quiet tears filling the space between the two of you.

This is what he needs, what he always needed. Someone that would listen, that would help take the pain away, someone that would understand what he’s gone through. And that’s you, it’s you.

He drags you down to the ground with him and wraps his arms tightly around your back, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as warm tears fill the cotton of the front of your dress. You wrap your arms around his neck, push your fingers gently through his tousled locks, giving him all the comfort he needs right now from you. He can have it all, it’s his, it’s all his.

“It’s okay, Joel. I’m right here. Let it out. All your pain, lay it on me. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me, I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright,” you coo into the shell of his ear, feeling him relax into your hold, letting his fingers cling around the back of your dress. “You’re safe with me,” you whisper, and that’s when he leans back and looks you dead in the eyes, all glossy eyed and teary from the weight of the world crashing down on him.

He opens his mouth, looks softly down at you and smiles warmly at you, even through all the pain he still smiles. For you. He smiles for you.

“You’re so… good. You’ve always been so good. I should’ve… I should’ve…” He’s rudely interrupted from a coughing, blubbering mess of a man behind him, and he turns sharply over his shoulder to look at David.

“Well, ain’t that sweet? Sharing a moment together? Please, makes me want to vomit,” David coughs, blood splattering all over the ground from his throat. “Why don’t you two love birds just burn in hell where you belong?”

Something snaps in Joel, his eyes go pitch black and his scowl digs into the side of his mouth as he gets up and drags David to the church by his bloody ankle. Joel throws him inside the white peeling doors and drenches him in gasoline until he can barely form a coherent sentence.

“No, you burn in hell,” Joel growls, lighting a match and throwing it on his body.

Joel takes your hand and backs you up slowly, watching David writhe in pain while the church starts to topple and crumble on top of him, the worn walls collapsing from the amber fire that starts to consume the haunted town.

“Run,” Joel pleads as he takes your hand and leads you to the dark forest, only looking back to hear the horror screams and watch the burning flames swallow the entire town.

Your breath is shaky, your feet burning with every step you take, but Joel keeps you upright as his fingers lock around yours and pulls you through the thick, foggy night. You don’t look back, block out the dying screams like you did with Cassandra, just focus on your quick breath and your tired feet.

You run and run and run, escaping anything that can hurt you, anything that can claw your skin and drag you back into the burning flames of the lost town. They’re gone now, vanished in the fiery flames, burned alive just like that did to all those innocent women.

It’s over, done, you escaped, you got out. All because of Joel. Joel. Your savior in disguise.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s all you see, all you know, all you feel. It’s here with you right now, he’s here. Joel is here.

He takes a moment to catch his breath as moonlight shines down on the sweat of his thick brows, cascading off the reflection of his tanned skin beneath a towering oak tree. You focus on him, his quick breaths, his dark eyes that seem to cast shadows over you, thick hands grasping against the rough bark as he slowly looks up, hovers just a little closer and then stares, mouth partly open as he takes in your windblown hair and your stormy eyes.

Another drawn breath and he’s sucking it back in. “Are you alright?” he asks quickly, eyes piercing into yours with worry.

“I’m… I’m alright,” you answer, still dazed from what happened minutes ago. The fire, the angry ambush of David, the whole town now scorching in the flames where they belong, where they should’ve been long ago.

He takes another step forward, the worn leather of his boots meeting your scraped toes. “I should’ve known they were gonna do it. I should’ve fuckin’ known they were gonna burn your house down, accuse you of bein’ a witch, should’ve fuckin’ knew they planned to murder you in the break of daylight under flames.”

He hangs his head in defeat, like he didn’t already save you, like he could’ve done more, and your heart breaks from the guilt that eats him alive. “If I would’ve jus’ kept goin’ to that goddamned church. If I would’ve fuckin’ listened to what the people in town were sayin’ ‘bout you. If I would’ve jus’ been a better man I could’ve saved you. Maybe I could’ve…”

You press a palm to his heaving chest, curl your fingers around the soft blue flannel, engrave yourself just a little into his damp skin, enough to feel yourself in his fast beating heart. He stills beneath your touch, looks down and puts his entire attention on you, waiting with tear stained eyes right on the verge of spilling.

“Joel, you did save me. You got me out before they could burn me. You took David out, you put the town of hell to rest. You freed me from my bindings, you came with me, you didn’t leave me alone. You saved everything about me…”

His eyes bore into yours, something like desire and fate twisting together, an inkling of relief leaving his doe eyes as his fingers cautiously trace against your bare arm, slow circles of the pad of his calloused thumb dancing across your wrist like a tide full of warm waves lapping against your body. It’s comforting, magnetic even as his skin connects with yours so slowly, so steadily, almost like a lazy river rippling through the forest.

He sighs, slowly lifts his large hand to cup your cheek, calloused fingers gently drawing lines against your soft skin. You lean into it, breathe in his pinecone scent, almost taste what his lips might feel like on yours. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of life.

“I had to save you. You were the only thing left that kept my heart beating. The only sunshine I saw under those cloudy grey skies,” he breathes, glossy eyes slipping into yours as they flick down to your mouth.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

“I should’ve kissed you back in that flower field when I had the chance. The way your hair flowed behind your shoulders, your sparkling eyes, your fuckin’ breathtaking smile. I jus’…” He leans his forehead down against yours, lips skating across your mouth as he passes them by, his gentle caress of your face as soft as a feather.

And he’s so soft, like a red rose petal beneath all the thorns and vines that disconnects him from anyone else. He doesn’t show this side of himself to anyone else, but he shows you. He shows you.

“You just what?” you whisper, holding your breath as he cages you against the trunk of the tree, one hand still caressing your face with his rough palm while the other wraps around your waist.

Another breath, another touch from his thumb as it traces along your bottom lip. He looks down, focuses in on your lips as he wets his own, hazel eyes staring down at you as he gulps down any fear he may be holding on to.

“I jus’ need to… need to… fuck, jus’ need you on my lips, sweetheart.”

Before you can move an inch he crashes down on your lips, cradles your face with his large palms as you sink into his broad chest, your fingers twisting into the flannel fabric that clings to you.

The kiss is slow, desperate, hungry. You feel as if this is the first time you’re breathing life into your body as Joel gives himself to you. He pulls you in by your waist as your arms circle around his neck, one hand combing through his messy curls as he groans into your mouth.

You part your lips, allow him to slot his tongue in as you taste all of him colliding against your own tongue. You moan into his mouth, let his tongue chase yours as you down the whisky taste of him, lapping him up like he’s your only oxygen supply left. You think you feel forever in his taste.

He tugs at your worn dress, slides the cotton material down your arms until it hits the dirt on the ground. You quickly pull his flannel free, tugging the leather belt loose while his tongue licks feverishly into your mouth.

He brings you down gently to the ground, makes sure your body lands on top of his fanned out flannel, makes sure you’re okay when he disconnects from your lips and looks down at you with a hesitant stare.

“Is this okay? We can stop if it’s too much. We don’t have to…”

“Joel,” you stop him, give him a small smile as you nod up to him. “It’s okay. I want you to. Please, don’t stop,” you plead.

He takes your answer and swallows it down, sits back on his heels as he gazes down at your splayed out, bare body under the glistening moonlight, looking starstruck from just how absolutely breathtaking you are under the glow of the moon. He thinks you look angelic, like you’re made of glitter and gold, like you’re made just for him.

He takes his hand and runs it along your jawline, down your neckline, over the dip of your hips, stopping at the top of your thigh. He lets a sigh escape his mouth as he stares at the goddess that’s before him, and he thinks he’s so lucky to be alive, to have you in front of him, unharmed, in his arms where he can keep you safe.

“You’re so beautiful, jus’ like that field full of flowers you stood in, with your hair all tangled in the wind.”

Your breath hitches, eyes widen as you take in just what he said to you. He thinks you’re beautiful. “You think I’m beautiful?” you ask quietly, lips parted as his hazel eyes glisten down to yours.

“Yeah. I do, darlin’. Gorgeous.”

Then he’s leaning down and kissing you again while his large hands push your thighs apart. It’s like your mind carries you off into the clouds as his lips drag down your neckline, quiet moans blowing through your lips when his warm lips take your breasts into his mouth, pebbling your nipples as he sinks down down down and lands right between your thighs.

You moan, feeling him lick a thick strip up your core, making your head knock back into the softness of the flannel while he spreads your folds and slowly starts to circle your buzzing clit.

You card your fingers through his tousled curls, hear him groan into your dripping core while he laps up all the slick between your thighs, tugging your bundle of nerves into his wanting mouth, sinking his tongue deep into your dripping hole, feeding all your desires as he gives you pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

You feel the white hot heat slide down your spine, feel your breaking point about to come loose, feel every stroke of Joel start to unlatch the tidal waves in your core. You feel as if you’re kissing the stars as he pulls you closer to his mouth, wraps his strong arms a little tighter around your thighs, laps his wet tongue up and down your core like he’s been starving for you for months. And now he has you, right on the edge of breaking.

“Joel,” you moan, “I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Go on, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me take you all the way. Show me jus’ how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he groans between the licks, taking his time to slide his tongue in slow circles around your aching clit.

You feel two thick fingers curl up into your heated core, feel him press up to heights you never could yourself, feel him collide with that spongy spot against your wall that makes you see stars. One more lick against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re arching your back and calling his name while your slick spills down your thighs, into Joel’s waiting mouth.

It feels electric the way he laps all your slick up, his hot mouth blowing against your core, eliciting another moan from your parted lips as he licks and licks and licks until you’re a writhing mess beneath his mouth.

He looks up from between your legs, sticky slick coating his thick beard, eyes glossy from pulling an orgasm out of you, hands planted firmly against the top of your thighs as he looks up at you, out of breath from diving into you.

“You taste jus’ like honeysuckle, beautiful. Like sugar on my lips,” he smiles, the edges of his hooded eyes glowing under the moonlight. And you swear you’ve never seen anything more magical in your life.

“Joel, need you…” you whimper out, reaching for his body.

“What do ya need, darlin’? Tell me what you want,” he whispers into the chill of the night.

You take a breath and blow it out, hoping your nerves won’t get in the way. “You, Joel. Want all of you. Inside me. Want you anyway I can have you,” you whine, desperate for the friction of his body against yours.

He smiles up at you, pushes his dark jeans down, his boxers trailing after them until his hard cock is pressed against his stomach, red tip smothered in precum, his thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, ready to split you in two.

Your eyes grow wide watching him crowd your body, his thick cock pressing against your soaked folds, rubbing up and down to collect your slick all over his massive length. He’s huge, but you can take him. You want him, now.

“Slow breaths now. Might be a stretch. Jus’ relax, I’ve got you, baby,” he coos, relaxing your body while he slowly enters inside your dripping core.

He gradually plunges into you, drowning out your moans as his lips land on yours, swallowing your gasps as he stretches you to the brim, his thick width rutting in and out of you, bottoming out until you can’t feel anything, can't taste anything but him. Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s everywhere, consuming you, bodies twisted together while he rocks back and forth, both sharing moans that get swallowed by the other, like you’re magnetized together.

It’s like you’re one in the same, two broken bodies that mend each other back together, two fragile souls that burn for the other, dance in the flames while your bodies get lost in the other’s, lost souls that found each other through pain and grief, Joel colliding into you like a star crossed lover, someone you’ve waited years for.

You break again, nails scratching down his tanned back while your walls hug him tight, pouring out hot liquid that covers him in you.

“Ahh fuck. Squeezin’ me so tight, can’t hold on, sweetheart. Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grits through his teeth, trying with all his might to slip out of you before he spills himself inside of you.

You lock your legs around his hips, make him stop before his warmth disappears, letting him know that it’s okay, that you want him to stay. “It’s okay. Let go. Come inside, Joel. Need you, need all of you,” you beg, long lashes batting up at him as you coax him to stay.

“You sure?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together into concern as he hears your plea.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice panting from the come down of your intense orgasm. “Inside me,” you repeat, a little louder.

He hears you loud and clear. He thrusts inside of you, as deep as he can go, kissing your cervix as he grunts and grits his teeth together, eliciting another moan from you as he speeds up his pace.

Once, twice, three more times and he’s throwing his head back, a low moan slipping from his clenched teeth as thick ropes of cum spill inside you, filling you so full that you moan out in bliss, completely saturated with his seed inside you, and that’s what does it. What consummates the two of you together, like stars in the night sky, two lovers that burn for each other.

He falls against your side, scoops you up and sews you to his broad chest as his fingers trace the side of your sweat covered face.

You’re both panting, both exhausted from the love making, no room to do anything else but drown in the other’s ecstasy. You’re just two warm bodies now, a false witch, a beaten man, two bodies that bleed together who slowly mend one another’s wounds.

He traces your lips, his calloused thumb perfectly dancing across your face as he stares down at you, the woman he’s pined after for months, the one he knew he’d eventually fall for. And he did. He fell hard.

“What do we do now, Joel?” you ask quietly, while he continues to trace the lines of your skin.

“What we always do. Survive. But we do it together this time. This time, we thrive.”

The way he’s looking at you with big doe eyes, and the way he’s touching you all soft and tender makes you feel things. Things you’ve never felt before. Like your heart swells just at the faint glow of his smile, his caramel eyes swirling into yours, his body crowding yours with the softest touch you ever felt before. Maybe you love him, you do love him. And you think maybe he loves you, too. But that’s for another night to uncover because right now this is where you are, bathing in each other’s moonlight, feeling sparks like the fireflies that dance in the forest light surrounding you, almost like this is magic. Joel is magic. He’s your safe space, your equal.

You sink into his chest, wrap your arms a little tighter around him while his lips graze across your forehead, telling you that it’ll be alright, that both of you will be just fine.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums, his deep voice reverberating through your entire body like cords connected to an acoustic guitar, like he used to play.

“Promise me the worst is over, that we can make it maybe to the coast, find a new town, build a new life. A life that maybe isn’t so broken?”

He sighs into your hair, scoops you closer into his arms and kisses you softly across your lips. “I can promise that the worst is over. No one’s ever gonna lay another finger on you, not on my watch, sweetheart. We’re free. I’ll take you to the coast. We’ll build a new life together. You and me. We’ve got the whole world in our hands now, and nothing can stop us now. No more flames, no more embers, it’s jus’ us.”

You lean into him, as close as you can get while his hand traces up and down your back soothingly. You think this is exactly where you belong, in Joel’s arms, taking on the world together. You can do anything as long as you have him by your side, your guiding light out of the flames.

Tagging some friends who seemed interested 😊 @ozarkthedog @alltheirdamn @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @sawymredfox

@littlevenicebitch69 @604to647 @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @msjarvis @mountainsandmayhem

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller au #witch trial! au #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel the last of us

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milliumizoomi · 2 days

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐇𝐄...

☆彡SUMMARY.; Things I believe he would do in a relationship that you’d (us.. all of us..😭) would find attractive

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x READER

☆彡TROPE.; Established Relationship

☆彡FORMAT.; HEADCANON

☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + SUGGESTION + A TINY BIT OF ANGST

☆彡WARNINGS.; mature language, mature actions, a lil bit of Armando’s toxicity shining thru, brief mentions of choking (not in like he’s gonna kill u type of way😭) brief mentions of violence, a little bit of spoilers ahead.

☆彡NOTES.; heyyyy thank u guys SAURRRR much for the love on the last Armando work I posted, I’m glad so many of yall liked it and I will continue to post and write about him 🫶🏽. (And yeah I took that picture on the middle so be free to save.. cause whew lord..). I hope you guys enjoy this one😛💕.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🫶🏽.

[IN PUBLIC]

✬ Armando would keep an eye on you, especially since he’s not a very trusting person to most

✬ He’s like very aware of the space you’re both in so he’d keep you at least within arms reach of him if it’s just a regular kind of day

✬ And he’d also do that thing where if he wants you to move, he’ll grab your waist and either shift you to where he wants you to do, or he’ll do that just to pass behind you

✬ And he a quiet person so instead of using many words, he just stares and expects you to know what he’s thinking

✬ If a situation arises where you’re doing something that he thinks you shouldn’t be doing, he’ll simply clear his throat and stare and he knows you should know what he’s thinking

✬ also this man has no filter whatsoever, so if you’re talking, it doesn’t even have to be to him, you could be taking to his dad or something and he’ll just blurt out some of the most insane stuff in either Spanish or English

✬ (like he did to that girl when he called her fine)

✬ like if you say “im so hot” on a day when it’s scorching outside he’d def say stuff like “I definitely agree” or some shit like that just to embarrass you

✬ He’d also stare at your lips while you’re talking to him, especially if you’re mad at him

✬ and openly stare at your body too

[ON CASES || MISSIONS]

✬ you don’t even have to be in a relationship for this one but just watching him fight

✬ Each movement of his is so effortless and he just looks good each and every time

✬ He’d also probably see you staring and raise an eyebrow at you and tell you to pay attention

✬ would tease you on missions definitely

✬ especially if it’s a mission together

✬ only a bit tho cause he’s very focused on missions

✬ makes you be his backpack on his motorcycle

✬ he’d adjust your hand to where he wants it when riding the motorcycle

✬ drives it with one hand and occasionally taps at your leg with the other

✬ and if he has time, he’ll teach you to fight like he does

[IN PRIVATE]

✬ in private he’s definitely an attitude fixer

✬ if you do something to piss him off he’ll probably just stop talking all together until you apologize

✬ when that happens tho he furrows and raises his eyebrows a lot while clenching his jaw as a way to not get too annoyed with you

✬ curses in Spanish a lottttt

✬ and when you’re being bratty or rude to him, he’ll literally grab you by the neck and bring you real close to his face then say in your ear “arregla tu actitud antes de que yo la arregle por ti..” (fix your attitude before i fix it for you..)

✬ ofc he’d do that in public too

✬ I feel like he’d be a bit clingy when alone because he doesn’t like pda, so he waits until it’s private and will literally grab all over you

✬ he cooks shirtless (idc it’s true and yes he can cook🤚🏽)

✬ has told you the most mundane every day things in the sexiest voice ever

✬whistles when you walk in a room

✬ and slaps your butt regularly (sue me ik he does🤚🏽)

✬if you’re sleeping in the same bed there’s only two places he’ll sleep, on your butt or on your stomach (no in between 🤷🏽‍♀️)

✬ uses that same condescending voice on you to tell you what to do, when you’re wrong, or to stop acting up

eugh I love him sm🥹

#🪸 :: 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘𝗦 #armando aretas #armando armas #jacob scipio #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life #armando x reader #armando aretas x reader #armando armas x reader

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daydreaming-nerd · 1 day

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Our Girl (Bat Boys! x Female! Reader) Rhysand's Part

First part

AN: Sorry I've been a little MIA, I've been going through a lot and struggling to find time to write. But I just busted this out and I love it.

Summary (Series): When Rhysand becomes High Lord the boys find themselves too busy and too well known to visit their local pleasure house. So they hire the reader to to satisfy their needs.

This fic: Rhys seeks his revenge from the last encounter he had with you and his brothers. HEAVILY BASED OFF THIS FANART

Warnings: sub/dom dynamic, dirty talk, degradation, cock warming, cum eating, (i think that's it, as always lmk if I missed anything)

Word count: 3,100

The past week or so had been nothing but bliss. I spent every morning curled up on my chaise lounge reading a book and eating whatever home cooked breakfast that was brought to me. It was just as I had dreamed, silk pajamas and expensive champagne, sleeping in and spa treatments.

Rhys and his “brothers” had been extremely busy the past couple of days, I hadn’t yet seen them since the first night we spent together. I hadn’t heard from them either, but as long as the gold in my account kept being accepted at every manner of boutique and fancy restaurants I didn’t much care when my services were needed.

I made my way through the townhouse and to my room, bags in hand and hair freshly done. I had spent the day at the hair salon and decided it would be a crime to return straight home with a fresh blowout, so I treated myself to lunch and of course some shopping as well.

When I returned to my room I found a black box waiting for me on my too large bed. Setting the bags aside I made a beeline to the mysterious box tossing the lid open with little care. My eyes went wide at what I saw inside. A babydoll made of deep purple lace and a silky mesh lay in the box. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t the lingerie that made me lose my breath, it was the diamond necklace that lay on top of it.

I picked up both gifts prompting a note to tumble out of the folds,

Your presence is requested by your High Lord…

There was no doubt in my mind that Rhysand was the one to send such a lavish gift. While I’m sure Cassian and Azriel were paid handsomely I could buy a house or two with this necklace.

I wasted no time changing into the attire Rhys had bought for me. I wondered if this would be a recurring thing for him. He had told Cassian and Azriel they could dress me however they pleased, but none had yet to take advantage of it.

I tiptoe down the hall to where I can practically feel his power seeping through the door. He had been holed up in his office all week. There were times I thought to check on him, offer him some release or even some company, but I didn’t want to pester him and lose my paycheck.

My hand lingers on the doorknob for a moment before closing around it and pushing the door open. I find Rhysand in the exact same place he was when I first came here, hunched over stacks of papers and drinking a whiskey on the rocks.

“There you are,” he says low, rising from his plush chair, his presence making me feel small. “Do you know what I was reading over?” he asks, waving a piece of paper in the air.

“No my lord,” I reply and I don’t miss the glimmer in his eye as I utter the familiar name he claimed to love so much.

“This, little one,” he smirks, further closing the distance between us. “Is your bank statement.” he smiles tossing the paper on a nearby chair.

My blood runs cold. Had I spent too much? Did I overdraft my account somehow? I was sure I hadn’t spent that much money in the past week.

“200 gold marks at Rita’s for dinner last night,” he states, coming behind me pulling my hair to the side so he has access to my neck.

“300 gold marks at a boutique, 100 marks buying lacy underthings and another 100 gold marks buying shoes.” he smirks, placing kisses on my neck as he lists every expense.

“I-I’m sorry did I overdraft my account? I can return the shoes, or the ‘lacy underthings’ as you so call them?” I wince praying I’m not about to get fired.

“If you take back those lacy underthings you will be fired,” he chuckles, resting his hands on my hips.

I mentally curse myself for forgetting his ability to pry into my mind, but I stop kicking myself the moment he kisses that sensitive spot underneath my ear.

“On the contrary, little one. You aren’t spending enough of my money.” he smiles, brushing a hand over the lace covering my breasts and up to my necklace. “I thought you could use some help.”

“They’re beautiful my lord,” I breathe, feeling him lick a stripe up the column of my neck.

“The next time I fuck you I want you dripping in diamonds and jewels that I bought you, is that clear?” he asks smugly and I swear if he wasn’t bracing his hands on my hips my legs would’ve buckled.

“Yes my lord,” I breathe leaning into his touch as I feel him smirk against the shell of my ear

“Good girl,” he praises me and I feel my stomach flutter once more. “Now I have unfinished business with you.” he growls and my eyes snap open as his hand traces around my necklace.

“You see last time I was denied you, I had to watch my brothers fuck and fill what’s mine and I didn’t like it very much.” he says dangerously low as his fingers dance over the diamonds around my neck. “Who put this pretty little collar around your neck?”

“You did my lord,” I breathe as he turns to face me.

“That’s right I did,” he smiles tilting my chin up to meet his gaze. “And whose money do you spend all around town on expensive wine and shoes?”

“Yours,” I say, my love drunk eyes boring into his.

“Good girl,” Rhys smirks, dragging a thumb over my lips. “Now I have need of you but, I’m not done with work.” he says, dropping his hand from my face, making me miss the contact already.

He strolls around the desk and sits down on his ornate chair again. Part of me wondered what his throne looked like if this was just the chair to his office. I hear his belt unbuckling as he frees himself from his slacks, standing tall, proud and practically throbbing for attention.

“Come here little one,” he croons as he tugs his cock a couple times in his hand, getting it hard and ready for me.

I approach him smoothly, I think he wants me under his desk with my mouth on his cock but the second I’m within arms reach of him I feel his hands on my hips. The next thing I know he’s slipping me on his cock like I’m nothing more than a cock sleeve for him.

“There we go, nice and snug in there,” he smirks, nibbling my earlobe.

I can hardly think or even breathe from the sheer size of him. I was almost embarrassed that he didn’t even have to touch me to warm me up for him. His words alone had me dripping wet for him making it easy for him to slide right in.

“Now,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in my body. “I’m going to finish some paperwork and you're going to sit right here and keep my cock nice and warm alright little one?”

“Yes my lord,” I mewled, already sweating, needing him to move.

“Good girl,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “No talking, no moving, and no touching yourself or you don’t get to cum.”

I nod shallowly as he begins to resume his paperwork.

It was probably the biggest exercise of self control I had ever practiced. I knew how good it felt to ride Rhys, knew how good it felt when he lost control and pistoned inside of me until I fell apart under him. To sit here and be so close to that kind of pleasure? It was torture.

The ticking of the clock on the wall only furthered my madness. I averted my eyes to where Rhys was scribbling on scroll, the scratching of a fountain pen equally as infuriating. The way his hand gripped the fountain pen, the veins standing out. How could his hands possibly be arousing? Was there a part of this male that wasn’t arousing to me?

I pictured what those hands might do should they find their way on my skin. Where they might touch first, the ideas had my pussy clenching as I take in a sharp breath.

Rhys’ hand on my waist flew to my thigh slapping it hard, “Bad girl, I felt that,” he growled and I had to bite my lip not to whimper.

The scratching of his pen on paper echoed throughout the room as I did everything in my power not to move, not to breathe or think about anything but being completely still.

“150 gold marks at the perfumery huh?” Rhys croons holding the receipt for the perfume I bought two days ago.

“Yes my lord,” I say, eyeing the receipt that had yet to bear his signature.

“Let’s see what I purchased then,” he utters slowly, his nose nuzzles my neck inhaling the scent of the new perfume. “Mmm, very nice little one.” His voice is low and husky and I can’t help but clench around him once more.

He growls, grabbing the back of my neck and hauling me up before slamming my front on top of his desk. On instinct I try to move but I’m held down by his hand on the back of my neck. His cock slips out of me, leaving me cold and empty, I’m half tempted to beg him to fill me again.

“What did I say about moving?” he snarls in my ear, making me whimper.

“I’m sorry,” I mewl, making him laugh.

“You aren’t, but you will be,” he chuckles.

His hand grips the hem of the light chiffon of the babydoll and tosses it over the small of my back so he can see all of me. I feel his hand smooth over my bum before spanking me hard. The sting makes me whimper until his hand comes back to soothe over the area.

Without warning he buries himself inside of me, his balls smacking my clit. The guttural moan he lets out is nothing short of pornographic. I can feel the bulge in my belly that he leaves, his tip brushing my cervix like he did last time.

He pulls out and moves in slow languid motions, making me feel every harsh inch of him. I’d like to think he’s warming me up but I know he’s warning himself up, this is all about him.

“Gods your pussy is worth every single piece of gold I pay you? Do you know that?” he growls picking up the pace a bit.

I whimper in response, feeling him move his hand from my neck to my hip to keep me from lurching forward so much. Out of the corner of my eye I see him shift the receipt from the perfume on the desk and grab a pen. Is he really signing my bills as he fucks me over his desk? The scratching of his signature on the page lets me know he is.

“Every fucking penny,” he grunts before tossing the heavy pen on the desk.

The thud of the pen is followed by another grunt before his hand goes to my upper back pressing me back into the desk again. His fingers on my hips and between my shoulderblades keep me from moving even an inch as he pistons his hips into me, a male gone feral.

“Oh fuck Rhys!” I moan feeling my eyes roll to the back of my head.

My fingers grab the edge of the desk trying to keep myself from moving too much, needing something to dig my nails into. The sound of skin slapping fills the room as Rhys’ breathing picks up with the rhythm of his thrusts.

I clench around him and I receive a harsh slap to my behind once again. The sting startles me but fades into pleasure.

“Don’t you dare cum little one,” Rhys growls, increasing his pace. “You were a bad girl, bad girls don't get to cum.”

I let out a whimper at his words. I swear to the gods if this man leaves me trembling on the desk from not finishing with his cum leaking out of me I will lose my mind. I’ll run and find Cassain and beg him to finish the job, which I know he will. Azriel is another story. I think he might end up tying me up and getting off on me begging, hell I might get off on it too.

“Rhys please,” I cry as he presses my cheek further into the cool, smooth wood of the desk. Pens and picture frames rattling off from every thrust.

His hand comes down on my ass again as he pistons into me, searching for his own release. Long fingers dig into the skin of my hips leaving marks in their wake.

“Are you going to beg little one?” Rhys laughs, thrusting harder making me too dumb to speak.

My eyes roll to the back of my head as he finds that spot that drives me wild. I’m sure he’s not trying to, clearly just trying to get himself off. Yet somehow he’s fucked me dumb already and I’m a babbling mess bent over his desk.

“Tell you what if you beg nice and pretty I’ll let you cum?” Rhys chuckles. “Can you do that for me, little one?”

As if snapped out of the trance I’m in I feel my thoughts come back to my head. I’ll beg for him, I’d do anything for this male. I knew the second I met him I’d be utterly devoted to him if he just fucked me right, and by the cauldron he does.

“Please, please, please, please my lord,” I cry, feeling like a cock drunk fool. “Please let me cum!”

Rhys chuckles, grabbing the back of my hair and angling my head so my cheek isn’t pressed into the wood anymore. I almost wished there was a mirror in front of us so I could see the way he’s taking me.

“If you make a mess, you’ll have to clean it up. Can’t have other High Lord’s coming in here and seeing my whores cum all over my desk,” he smirks fucking me harder.

A sick part of me wanted just that to happen. Hell let the other High Lord’s watch him fuck me.

“I’ll be good, I’ll clean up,” I rasp out feeling tears prick my eyes. “P-Please let me cum.” I breathe.

It suddenly occurs to me that this is truly revenge from our last encounter when I wasn’t allowed to let him cum. He wanted me to beg just as hard as he did that night.

His hand in my hair tightens, lifting my front off the desk. My back is forced to arch and somehow he’s able to fuck me even deeper in this postion. My eyes fly open and I’m met with a pair of raging violet ones.

“Couldn't reach that pretty clit with your face pressed against the desk,” he smirks and before I can say anything his finger finds that sensitive pearl between my legs rubbing little circles in it.

My mouth falls open as the coil in my stomach threatens to unravel. His fingers continue their tantalizing ministrations on my clit. The impressive length of his cock digs deep in my belly. I close my eyes for a moment, feeling overstimulated. The hand he has fisted in my hair shakes as he forces me to arch my back more.

“Eyes on me little one,” he growls and when my eyes flutter open I see his violet ones staring back at me, eating up every reaction I give him.

My mouth falls open as I slip back into that cock drunk feeling and his eyes drink me up, seemling getting off on my fucked out face.

“Yeah you like that?” he smirks, not taking his eyes off me. “You like being my little cock slut?”

The words falling from his lips are enough to have me coming undone for him in a string of moans and cries. Tears fall from my cheeks, and I swear I feel him lick one up before he slams into me one last time, sputtering inside me so deeply I can feel the warmth coating my insides.

The grunts that fall from his mouth are enough to make me want more, but as he releases my hair and gravity pulls my body to the desk again I realize how spent I truly am.

I hear the chair squeak behind me, signaling that he’s sitting down, no doubt watching his cum spill out of me as I haven’t gotten the energy to move.

“Oh little one you’re such a messy girl,” he teases, running a finger up my folds collecting the mixture of our releases that are there.

I mewl as I feel him graze my overstimulated clit. I pull my head up to examine his desk, pen cups and picture frames are knocked over, papers are lying on the floor. My eyes widen as I see faint claw marks from my nails in the wood of the desk.

“What did I say about messes?” he tuts behind me.

I let my body slink to the floor, hitting my knees at the edge of his desk. He runs a large hand through my hair from where he sits behind me and my eyes come face to face to the mess we made.

Rising on my knees I let my tongue lap up the salty sweetness of him and that's right in front of me. His hand pushes my head down a bit forcing me to take every last drop. Only when the wood is spotless do I feel him thread his fingers through my hair and pull me back so he’s looking at me again.

“Such a good girl for me,” he smiles, leaning down to give me an upside down kiss. “Let’s get you cleaned up little one, you’ll sleep with me tonight.”

I’ll give the High Lord one thing, he fucked like a god, but what he really did well was aftercare. Always cleaning me up and getting me fluids. Holding my shaking body until I fell asleep. Something told me he longed for this type of intimacy as well. Cassian was the same that first night as well. Fetching me snacks and stroking my hair. The mysterious third brother, Azriel, had yet to show his cards. But something told me I’d be seeing him sooner than later.

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iarchmybaculaa · 15 hours

Text

Pairing: Ex! Jungkook x reader

Warnings: Jungkook is subjectively a little toxic, Mentions of an ongoing divorce, possessive! Jungkook, Girl Dad! Jungkook, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), oral sex (f receiving), Slight brat reader, Jeon Jungkook is a menace, reader is implied to be black

Word count: 5.2 k (I think)

🎧: Woo- Rihanna

For: @hobicakess and Paige💗

Jungkook is good at a lot of things

Hes a fantastic singer. He dances very well (even if he likes to fein shyness at parties). Jungkook can cook, he can multitask seamlessly and (almost) effortlessly, and he can put Jinhae to sleep in a matter of minutes… It would be much easier to list the things that Jungkook isn't good at.

Jungkook isn't very good at sharing.

He doesn't like sharing food, clothes or people.

You think it may be his biggest if not only flaw.

Jungkook considers the people in his life his. He doesn't expect them to have the same importance in someone else's life, as they do in his. And he doesn't expect them to think of other people the way they do of him, either.

You don't know if it's because he fears that he'll be replaced, or because he was raised as an only child. But whatever it was, Jungkook let it consume him. Holistically.

You remember how he had reacted when Yoongi- his mentor,had taken on a new intern. Jungkook and Yoongi had attended the same highschool within a few years of each other; and had met again when Yoongi was a TA at SNU. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing, as less of a student, and more like a little brother; and their bond lasted way beyond college. Yoongi was so proud of Jungkook that he was practically All he spoke about. Jungkook had gotten used to things being that way.

Then one day, all of a sudden, Yoongi was no longer “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook”; he was all “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin” much to the Younger's chagrin.

To his credit, Jungkook was nothing but nice to Jimin during the time he worked for Yoongi. He bought him coffee once in a while and even invited him out for drinks whenever the opportunity arose. Jimin was cool. Jungkook would even go as far as to say that Jimin was his friend. Jungkook barely knew the guy! He had nothing against him.

It was Yoongi he was pissed at.

Yoongi was the one who owed Jungkook his loyalty. Yoongi was the one who had nursed Jungkook through his first hangover, and held him when he cried about failing a class. Yoongi was there when Jungkook got his first, off campus apartment. Yoongi was Jungkook 's Yoongi.

At first, Yoongi didn't understand it. It made no sense that Jungkook seemed so fond of Jimin, yet he soured whenever the latter's name was mentioned. It gave him whiplash. It went on for a solid month and a half of Jungkook's scowls and petulant pouts for Yoongi to finally realize that something was deeply wrong, and that he needed to get to the bottom of it.

It took 2 bottles of soju and 3 glasses of whiskey for Jungkook to crack. His reasoning was so funny that Yoongi almost didn't feel bad for laughing at him. All it took to pacify Jungkook was for Yoongi to give him a hug, followed by a quick

“you'll always be hyung's favourite, Kook-ah.” as he ruffled his hair.

Jungkook was only 22 when that had happened. And he'd like to believe he's grown a lot since then.

He's advanced enough in his career that he's not Mr. Bang's payroll anymore, but rather pays him. Jungkook has grown in a literal sense too, having had a growth spurt one random day after he turned 23 (there was no containing him once he realized that he was 6 feet tall) .

Jungkook has (helped) create life; your daughter Jinhae. It's the thing he's proudest of, second only to marrying you.

But Jungkook is only human.

So it's only natural that he feels an itch rise on the back of his neck everytime he picks Jinhae up from your apartment, and all she can talk about is your new boyfriend.

He got so…irritated the more Jinhae babbled on about “Woo- Woo” that he felt a little silly. But who could blame him? He would be holding Jinhae 's hand as they walked through the park for their daddy daughter time, and every other sentence would be about this ‘’Woo Woo”.

Seokjin had once joked that she had switched from being 'Daddy's girl' to 'Woo-Woo’s girl' , and Jungkook 's body took a screenshot. He shot Jin a look so vile, that the older stayed quiet for the rest of the day.

Jungkook really had tried to ignore it as best as possible. And he (thought) he was doing fairly well until that evening, when Jinhae had let it slip that:

‘’Mama kissed Woo-Woo today.”

He had just picked her up from her taekwondo class, and was about to pull out of the parking lot when Jinhae gave him the oh so lovely news.

Jungkook isn't a monster, he thinks he's let this little charade go on for much longer than was respectable. He wasn't going to let that slide.

He took a sharp left and sped down the highway. If he wasn't so caught up in his head, he would've heard Jinhae 's excited scream of:

“YAY! we're going to Uncle Yoonie's house’

You had just finished taking a long, warm bath. Your feet had been aching, and your back felt worse than it did before you had gotten your epidural. You needed a break; desperately.

The silence in the apartment was a welcome change.

You loved Jinhae with all your heart, but children were tiring to deal with alone. Children could be incredibly difficult, just for the fun of it. Especially spoilt, almost-five year olds who are used to their daddy obeying their every beck and call.

God forbid you didn't do “ the voice” right, after reading “The little Prince” five times in a row! suddenly you were public enemy number one.

At least you could bask in the fact that Jinhae never threw (noisy) tantrums or threw things, but you felt that she had quadruple the attitude your hus- ex, accused you of having.

But tonight, the only attitude you have to worry about dealing with, was from Kim when you researched the earliest seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. What can you say? There's truly nothing funnier to you than upper class white women trying to be relatable. To this dat, their target audience was a mystery to you. You can't think of a single person whose biggest problem was how many times their name got googled in a day. You find it hard to take anything they ‘’go through' seriously, because if we're being honest, people really are dying Kim!

You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white robe.

You reach for the the lilac, silk pajama set laid out on your bed. You had bought it from an online lingerie store, after a few glasses of wine a few weeks ago. You had been so…bored that you did the most exciting thing your numb brain could come up with in that moment.

You scoff at your past self. It was more cute than anything, not nearly as scandalous as some of the items you have hidden in the back of your closest. But you're not complaining.

The shorts are a bit shorter than you expected, but the silk is soft a high quality, and the lace that lines the top isn't itchy at all. You untwist your bun, and your braids cascade down your shoulders. You grab the bottle of black castor oil from your dresser, and run the nozzle along the parts. You sigh as you reach up to massage your scalp.

It's in little moments like these that you miss Jungkook the most. You hate to admit, but you used to be just as spoilt as Jinhae. Jungkook used to pamper you in every way possible. He would oil your scalp for you, order your hair products months in advance so that you'd never run out, and give you massages whenever your shoulders stood too rigid.

But you didn't have Jungkook anymore. You suck your teeth in annoyance at yourself for thinking about him so much.

You had just finished applying your vitamin c serum to your face, when you heard an incessant pounding on your door. You pause your music just as Kali Uchis asks if she can get a kiss. You're confused as to why someone is knocking on your door, when you have a very obvious doorbell attached to the frame. It's even stranger given what time it is.

You slip your feet into your cow print night slippers, as you step off the plush rug that lay on the floor in front of your vanity; and unto the floor.

The slippers slap against the floor as you walk towards the living room, and to whoever the hell wouldn't stop pounding on your door at 9pm on a Friday.

You throw the door open, ready to demand an explanation when you stop dead in your tracks.

To say you're surprised at who is standing at your door would be an understatement. You're not sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Jungkook. You're even more surprised to see him without Jinhae in tow.

You don't think that you've been alone with Jungkook for more than a few minutes at a time since the divorce; and even so, Jinhae has always been just a few feet away.

You feel worry start to settle in your stomach.

“Where's JJ? Is she okay?” You ask, praying that what came out of his mouth next isn't bad news.

He chuckes. It's a sound that comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates across the empty hallway. It's an empty laugh, with no humour behind it. It makes a chill run up and down your spine.

“Jinie is fine. She's with Yoongi; and she's the last of your worries right now” he says.

For once, Jungkook hasn't cracked a single smile the entire time he's been in your presence. It's obvious that he's mad, but you're not sure at what. You're not sure that you vare.

He isn't wearing a suit right now, and you can't recall the last time you'd seen him in anything but.

Jungkook worked extraordinarily long hours. You knew that working late and being burnt out would be a part of his life, especially the more his business grew, but it hadn't phased you at the time. There was nothing to be phased about.

At the time, Jungkook always put you first. And when Jinhae was born, he did the same thing. There was never a time where he had left you to fend for yourself with a newborn. He had been there through it all. From colic, to 3 am feedings to explosive diaper changes. He had never let you feel alone as a parent, or in your marriage.

Until around 8 months ago that is.

8 months ago, you feel like Jungkook had just stopped trying.

You know for a fact that Jungkook is terrified of being poor. It's why he always has another merger to make with one of his three companies, and dips his toes into every industry imaginable. His influence spanned over tech, real estate and even clothing. You think Jungkook's fear is understandable, you don't think it's fair. It was teetering on the edge of paranoia and greed.

He was trying so bad to make sure that he could take care of his family, that he wasnt.

He would get home from work after Jinhae went to bed, and left before she got ready for school. You had spent one too many nights falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home; only to wake up in your bed the next morning with a handwritten note on your bathroom mirror. They were sweet and all..but not much more.

As much as you appreciated the affirmations, his words meant nothing when there was no action behind them. Promises to come home home early the, family outings that never happened… You felt like you were a kid whose love was expected to be bought with money, and placated with empty commitments all over again. You could count on a bouquet of roses being delivered at your door every morning, more than you could count on your own husband being there.

You hated it.

You were starting to hate him.

It had gotten to a point where Jungkook had just given his secretary reign over his personal phone. You almost lost your mind when you had called him to ask what he wanted for dinner once, and she answered and told you that he was busy.

You could hear Jungkook 's laughter in the background, and the noise was not a professional setting. In fact, it sounded a lot more intimate and cozy. Like a restaurant or small bar. You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't even get the chance to talk to Jungkook about it, because you barely saw him.

The look on his face when you served him the divorce papers in person at his office was borderline comical. His eyes had widened so far out of their sockets, that you thought the expression was causing him physical pain. You had said nothing. You simply handed him the papers and stayed long enough for him to read the heading. He clearly wanted to communicate through words on paper, so who were you to not oblige him with some?

As far as you know, Jungkook had never signed the papers, but he did follow all the other conditions you had outlined in your petition for separation.

He got an apartment for you and Jinhae in a building he didn't own, and was never late for any pickups or dropoffs, save for once when he had the flu.

A part of you had forgotten how young Jungkook was.

The suits he wore aged him plenty. Not in an old, haggard way, but in a way that made him appear more refined and serious than he actually was. His hair was always cut short and clicked away from his face. The collars of his shirts were always ironed to sharpness. Hell, he even wore sensible shoes.

If you hadn't seen every inch of Jungkook 's body before, and gone to college with him…You would have pegged him for an uptight dogooder. You're sure it helped him get taken seriously in the corporate world, but overtime, it was as if Jungkook had forgotten his roots. As if he had morphed into a no nonsense, mormon-esque version of himself.

But the Jungkook standing before you now, is the Jungkook you know and lov- respected. Jungkook who proudly wore his colorful sleeve of tattoos,silver hoops through his lips and a stud in his nose. The Jungkook who liked to wear cargo pants and oversized shirts with stomper boots he could barely walk straight in.

You knew he had showered before he had come over, because his hair was still curly. He hadn't blow-dried it. His hair is much longer than it was when you had last saw him. It fell past his eyes now. He had started growing it out sgain because Jinhae told him she wanted to. At least, that's what he had told you.

What had really happened was that Jinhae had been asking a lot of questions about “ when appa wasn't so old” one Saturday when they had gone out for ice cream.

“Appa, Mommy says your hair used to be w-eally long and pwetty. Can it come back? Mommy misses it.”

Jungkook hadn't cut his hair again since.

“Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asks, one eyebrow raised at you.

You fold your arms across your chest.

“I'm not sure why I should. Besides, I don't think that this is a good time.”

“Oh? Why's that? You lip expecting someone else,princess?’ He takes in your attire from head to toe. His eyes linger for a little too long in your chest. His voice goes deeper as he struggles to finish his last question.

You don't answer, and it makes his eye twitch.

It's so ridiculous, yet so on brand of him to create a hypothetical scenario in his head and get all eaten up about it. He takes a deep breath.

He doesn't want to blow his fuse. Not here, Not yet.

“ I need to talk to you. Inside. Please.” He asks, but it's not really a request.

You roll your eyes and turn your back to him as you walk away.

He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your ass jiggle in the tiny shorts. He enters behind you, and the door closes softly with a click.

You walk over to the fridge and grab the unfinished can of Arizona Iced tea, and a glass from the cupboard. You were looking forward to having a glass of wine tonight, but if you were going to talk to Jungkook… you needed to be stone cold sober.

“You want anything?” You ask, as you pour the content into the glass. “ I think I have some b-”

“What I want is answers.” He says simply, leaning in the arched entryway.

You look at him with confusion written all over your face, before your pettiness takes over.

“ Oh yeah? Well I wanted signed divorce papers, and yet here we are.”

You take a swig from your cup and let the sweetness of the drink coat your tongue.

You see Jungkook release a breath so deep that his entire body shakes.

“ Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says with his arms crossed against his chest. “Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”

You're getting irritated now, because for one, what the hell is he talking about, and two…Who was Jungkook to talk to you like that?

“Jungkook. First of all, she's our kid. And secondly, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. And even if I did… I wouldn't tell you jack shit. What or who I do is none of your business.”

Jungkook pushes himself off the threshold and starts walking towards you. His steps are slow and strong. His strides are long,and he has your back pressed into the counter in a matter of seconds.

You haven't been so close to Jungkook in so long, that everything about him overwhelms you in the best way possible. He smells so, so good. He smells like sandalwood and warm vanilla. He smells like home. His proximity to you is dizzying, and you can only pray that you'll keep it together.

He puts his arm on one side of you, leaving your left completely open. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. You stayed in place. It tells him everything he needs to know.

“Have you completely lost your fucking mind Y/N?” He questions. He reaches for your left hand and your heart sinks down to your ass. The diamond of your wedding ring glitters under the lights hanging from the the ceiling. The princess cut stone is practically mocking you.

“What do you think I gave you this ring for huh? Fun? Fucking decoration?” He jests, “You know, for someone who never shuts her big mouth up about divorce, you sure keep this on don't you baby?”

You don't deny it. There's no point in doing so. You know that if you do, he'll lift the ring upwards. And you know that when he does, he'll find the unmistakable circle of a tan line wrapping around your ring finger.

He strokes his thumb against your cheek, and you almost preen at his touch. “Who's ‘Woo- Woo’ baby?”

“None of your business.” You bite out.

“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, that you are my business?!”

He runs his hand through his long hair, and you can see his face so much better. He's as beautiful as you remember and he's right in front of you.

You don't know who leaned in first, but you do know how soft lips feel as they press against yours. You fell the metal of his lip piercings touch the roof of your mouth as you suck his lip into you mouth.

He puts his hand under your ass, and your legs wrap around him on instinct. He lifts you and bring you over to the cool marble of the kitchen island.

His hand tugs on the hem of your blouse, and you pull away from him.

“Kook, we can't.” You whine as you pull away.

Jungkook uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit from the corner of your mouth, and fixes your shirt so your boob is no longer at risk of spilling out.

“Okay baby, we'll stop and we can talk over dinner. Do you want me to make something or do you want to get takeout?” He asked as he pulls away from you.

He doesn't get very far, because you wrap your legs around him, and pull you back to him.

“Wait- I didn't really mean that.” You whisper. Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion that you weren't just talking about telling him no.

“You want me baby?”

You nod your head yes, too embarrassed to open your mouth lest your voice shake.

He cradles your face, and tilts it upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You answer affirmatively, reaching forwards to capture his lips again.

Youre not even thinking about the Pandora's box that you might be opening; and quite frankly? You don't care.

You're acutely aware that you wont be able to blame your decision on being drunk or tipsy. The only thing driving you was a burning need to have Jungkook deep inside you (where he belonged).

He litters kisses along your neck as he slides his hand down your shorts. Your hips buck forward on instinct, and you shudder as you feel his fingers ghost your clit.

“Why are you naked under here?” He growls out. grip tightening around you waist. “I'm starting to think that you were expecting someone tonight.” he muses.

He spreads your folds with two fingers, reveling in the way your arousal leaks out of you and unto his fingers.

“ Is that why you're so eager, baby? Hm? Is that why you're so wet? You decided that you were gonna get fucked one way or another? Is that it?”

He asks each question as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It shallow. He doesn't allow you the pleasure of going further than his first knuckle. You try to grind down on his digits, but he holds your hips down with his free hand.

“Whoever you've been giving my pussy away to, hasn't been doing a very good job... have they?” He groans as you clench around him.

“Jungkook please. I want-”

“Shh baby, I know. I'll give it to you I promise. Just give me one first” he begs as he speeds up his circles on your clit.

He sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, and you cum almost instantly. Your body shakes and you wrap your arms around his neck as your pussy convulses around his fingers.

You barely have time to recover before he's pulling your shorts down, and cleaning up the mess you made. He catches the slick of you orgasm on your tongue just as it starts running down your leg.

He goes at your pussy like a man starved. You cry out the moment his tongue enters you. You ride his tongue with vigor, gripping unto the counter for stability.

Jungkook pulls away from you for moment. His mouth is shiny from your juices, and his eyes are already so blown out that you want to fuck him even more.

He guides your hand to his hair, and encourages you to grab the tendrils.

“Use me, baby” he instructs.

His voice is so gravelly and raw, that you can do nothing but oblige him.

You grip the roots of his hair and push his head back between your legs. You both moan when he starts lapping at you again. You hold his head in place, guiding him where you want him; where you need him.

The second time you cum, your legs closed so tight around his head that Jungkook thought he had died and went straight to heaven.

You pull him away from your core by his hair, and bring him up to your face. You clean his face with your own tongue, and lean in to kiss him so you both taste like you. Your chests are still heaving when Jungkook carries you to your room.

He lays you gently on the bed, and takes his shirt off at the same time you toss your blouse over your head. He's about to undo the strings of his sweatpants when he stops cold in his tracks..

“ Shit, baby…I don't have any condoms. I didn't plan on this-”

“ It's okay,” You reassure him “ I'm clean. Are you?”

Jungkook looks a little scandalized. “Of course I'm clean, I haven't - I havent been with anyone except you since before we started dating.” His honesty shines so brightly in his eyes that you almost want to pull him into a hug.

You release a shaky, nervous breath you didn't know you had been holding.

“ Good. I want to feel you, all of you.”

The bed sinks as Jungkook climbs over you, one leg on each side of your body.

You've missed this view. Him on top of you, chain swining in your face, and big doe eyes filled with lust for you and only you.

He takes a hairtye from around his wrists, and pulls his hair into a low manbun. His cock is already painfully hard, red and leaking from the tip.

You spread your legs as Jungkook nestkes in-between them. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to your calf.

He rubs himself between your folds, mesmerized by how quickly your wetness coats him.

He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses.

“Are you sure you're ready baby? I don't want to hurt you.”

“ Is that it? Or are you scared that you don't hold a candle to ‘Woo-Woo’ my” you jest. Jungkook doesn't find it very funny.

He pushes himself into you, but as wet as you are, you're still so, so tight. Your pussy is so warm…hot even, that Jungkook almost cums the moment yes fully sheathed in you.

You're just as tight as he remembers, tighter even.

You both moan when he delivers his first thrust. You haven't had dick in so long,that you'd forgot what it felt like. How it felt like to have your walls stretched and your g spot caressed, how delicious and heavy the drag was inside you. How good Jungkook was at this. You feel so good that Jungkook practically forgets that he's supposed to be mad at you.

“You know you belong to me right?” Jungkook demands as he thrusts into you, slow and forceful. You don't answer and turn your face away from him He wraps his hand around your throat as speed up.

“Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!”

His thrusts become faster, punishing. He practically ploughs you into the mattress as whatever restraint he had before vanishes into thin air. You scream the more intense the pleasure gets.

“ I should fuck another baby into you, you know that? Hm? Should swell your tummy up with another one of my kids, so you have nine months to think about why the fuck you would do something as stupid as try to leave me.”

He finds your gspot as effortlessly as he usually does, and he hits it over and over and over again.

“Jungkook PLEASE” you cry. You reach your hand out to push against the hardness of his abdomen. He takes your hand and kisses it. You're so close. So fucking close, and Jungkook can tell.

“You want to cum, don't you baby?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy is practically raw from overstimulation, and you feel so much pressure building inside you that you don't know whether you want to run away from the pleasure or dive headfirst into it.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! I need to please.”

“Then tell me. Fucking tell me you're mine”

“Fuck, I'm yours, Jungkook! Please!” you cry.

“ How many people have you fucked since you left? Answer me!” He commands you, adding a finger to your clit to the mix.

“Nobody, no one, Jungkook Please!”

“ I know baby, I just needed you to admit it.”

He leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. He gives you two more delicious thrusts that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Your lurches forward as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls convulse around him, squeezing him so tight that Jungkook feels a bit dizzy.

“Baby,” he whines “unwrap your legs so I can pull out.” He gasps when your legs only wrap tighter around him. “Baby, I have to-”

“N-no,” you protest “ I want it inside Jungkook please.”

He cums so forcefully that his orgasm leaves him winded and his arms almost give out. He spils his seed into you, and you feel the warmth of it coat your walls.

He pulls out of you as he begins to soften, and collapse beside you as he tries to catch his breath. You both turn to look at each other, and Jungkook offers you a soft smile.

He notices the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, and turns his head to switch your fan on.

That's when you see it. Your eyes bug out of their sockets.

“Jungkook, what the hell is that on your neck?”

“ What are you talking about?”

“Right there,” you turn his head to the right to get a better look. Your heart starts thumming uncontrollably in your chest. Because there it was, your name in bold black letters for everyone to see.

“Jungkook…When did you get that?”

“Hm…about five months ago?” he chuckles. He had the decency to look sheepish.

“Jungkook!” You say as you slap his chest “ We weren't even together!”

“ Correction, we are together, we just have separate living arrangements.”

You look at him incredulously.

“You're crazy, you know that?’

“About you? Yeah..Real crazy baby” he flirts “Hey, you never told me woo this ‘Woo-Woo’ guy is anyways .”

You roll you eyes at him as you climb of the bed.

“I can't tell you who he's not. He's not the one whose cum is dripping out of me right now. Are you gonna join me on the shower or what?”

Fin.

#bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x black reader #dad jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x black oc #jungkook x you #author is tyyyaddd

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lightsoutnaway · 9 hours

Text

A Whole Family

PAIRING: Lando Norris x single mom! reader

WARNINGS: none!

SUMMARY: Lando meets your daughter when you need a last minute baby sitter.

WORD COUNT: 1,305

Your heart was going a mile a minute. You had just been called into work, but you were taking care of your daughter that day. You had called everyone you could think of. Your sister and mother were out of town together. Your usual babysitter already had a job for the day. Your best friend was at work as well. You had one last person to call, but you were worried about it.

You and Lando had been dating almost four months, but you still hadn’t introduced him to your daughter. It was a big step that you weren’t sure if you were ready for. You weren’t sure if Lando or your daughter were ready for it either, but it didn’t seem you had a choice anymore. You nervously pressed Lando’s contact and lifted the phone to your ear.

“Hey, baby,” Lando’s sweet voice came through the phone.

“Can I ask you for a really big favor?” You asked.

“Anything for you, love,” Lando assured you.

“Can you watch Ada?” You asked. “I know I’ve never introduced you before, but my boss just called and I have to go in and I can’t find anyone else,” you rambled. Lando’s heart was racing, but he wasn’t going to say ‘no’ to you.

“Yeah, I can do that,” Lando assured you. “Do you want me to come over there?” He asked.

“That would be great,” you said. “It would save me a little time.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Don’t stress, baby,” he said. Lando’s heart was still racing when he knocked on the door to your apartment. He wanted to be a part of your life. If your daughter didn’t like him, how was he supposed to make that happen? Most kids liked him, but your daughter was more important than any other kid had been to him and he hadn’t even met her.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you opened the door.

“It’s no problem,” Lando said.

“I really wish I could stay and talk for a few minutes, but I’m already late. She’s in her room. Just don’t let her make too big of a mess,” you said. You kissed his cheek before rushing past him. Lando stood dumbfounded in your entryway. He had taken care of kids before, but he was expecting a little more explanation before you left. He locked your door and then slowly walked towards your daughter’s bedroom. He had never been in it before, but he’d been to your apartment enough times to know where it was. He knocked on the doorframe when he got there.

“Hi, Ada,” Lando greeted. Your daughter turned to look over her shoulder. She was sitting at a small table with a toy tea set in front of her. She was wearing a pink princess dress and had a glittery plastic tiara on her head.

“You’re mommy’s boyfriend?” Ada asked. Lando chuckled.

“Yeah, my name’s Lando,” he said.

“Mommy told me to be good because she likes you,” Ada said. Lando blushed, your daughter oblivious to how much that meant to him.

“I like her too,” Lando replied.

“Do you want to have tea with me?” Ada asked. Lando nodded.

“I’d love to,” he answered. He started to move towards the other tiny chair beside Ada.

“Stop!” She shouted. Lando froze and looked at her. “It’s a princess tea party,” your daughter explained. “You have to be a princess first.” She got up and hurried towards one of the drawers in her room. She pulled out a set of play makeup, another crown and a pink feather boa. Without hesitation Lando took the crown and boa from her.

“Are you going to do my makeup? I don’t know how,” Lando said. Ada giggled with joy.

“Okay!” She agreed. Lando sat as still as he could while your daughter jabbed his face with her different brushes. She put cheap blue eyeshadow on him followed by glitter on his cheeks and messy red lipstick.

“Am I ready?” Lando asked. Ada nodded. She quickly put the makeup away and then sat back at the tea table.

“Now we can have tea,” she said. Lando chuckled. Your daughter was just as sassy as you were. Lando spent the next hour playing pretend with your daughter. He liked her. She was sweet, funny, and smart. She liked him right back. He went along with all her games and joked with her.

You walked into your daughter’s room to find Lando still sitting at the tea table and your daughter laughing loudly at something he said. Lando looked up at you.

“Hey,” he greeted. You broke out into a smile. He looked absolutely ridiculous but you loved it. Your daughter noticed you and jumped up, running towards you. She threw her arms around your legs and you leaned down to hug her as well.

“Hi, sweetheart,” you greeted. “Did you have fun with Lando?” You asked.

“Yes! Lando let me make him a princess and we had a princess tea party,” she told you.

“He looks very pretty, you did a good job,” you told her. Lando stood up.

“No, don’t leave!” Ada begged.

“It’s dinner time, Ada. I don’t know if Lando can stay,” you said.

“I can,” Lando told you. “If that’s okay.” You smiled at him.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” you replied. You looked at Ada. “Clean your toys up while Lando and I start dinner.” Lando followed you out to the kitchen. He grabbed your waist once you had gotten out of Ada’s view. You turned around and leaned back against the counter, pulling him with you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered.

“I’m actually Princess Lando now,” he replied with a smile. You laughed. “She’s just like you,” Lando added. You smiled.

“You like her?” You asked hopefully.

“She’s amazing,” Lando said.

“She definitely likes you,” you said as you wiped some lipstick off his chin. Lando looked at your lips, but hesitated. He didn’t want to make Ada uncomfortable. You noticed and leaned towards him, giving him a chaste kiss.

“Her dad’s picking her up after dinner,” you told Lando. “Maybe you could spend the night?” You offered.

“Of course,” he agreed. You looked at him thoughtfully.

“I’m taking Ada to the aquarium this weekend,” you said. “Would you like to come?” You asked nervously. Lando’s face brightened up.

“That sounds great. I can pick you guys up,” he said.

“Oh, she actually needs her car seat and I don’t have another,” you said.

“I’ll get one,” Lando told you.

“You would put a car seat in your Mclaren?” You questioned.

“Not the Mclaren,” he answered. “I’ll put it in the Mercedes. It’s safer and there’s more room in the back seat.” You grinned.

“You’re incredible,” you gushed.

“She’s incredible,” Lando replied.

“I’m glad you like her,” you admitted. “I didn’t really want to introduce you this way.”

“It wasn’t how I was expecting it, but I’ve been wanting to meet her. I know you were nervous about it,” Lando told you.

“She’s just a big part of my life and…you are too now,” you confessed.

“I was worried she wouldn’t like me,” Lando admitted.

“We were both worried for nothing I guess,” you said. Just then Ada bounded into the kitchen. She sat at the table and looked over at the two of you.

“I want spaghetti!” She exclaimed. Both of you laughed at her enthusiasm.

“Spaghetti it is,” you answered. Lando was already going for the pots to help. You smiled when you realized he already knew his way around your kitchen. He was a part of your home and your daughter adored him. You couldn’t stop your heart from bursting as you realized you had a whole family in your house again.

#lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris fluff #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando x reader

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okwonyo · 6 hours

Text

when they are not your bias.

엔하이픈 ୨୧ female reader six hundred established relationship ⠀⎯⠀⠀ not proof-read kissing skinship slight jealousy ( other ) ；𝓬lick

heeseung would find himself be extremely surprised, shocked even. because, what do you mean, he is not his girlfriend’s bias？would try to convince that whoever is your bias is nothing compared to him, “i’m better, i swear,” and them, you would tell him that you can’t bias him because he is too much of a flirt. would coo at you instantly, “aw ~ it’s only because my baby is jealous,” — you would bias him even less after that.

jay would be a little bit hurt in his ego. although, he knows he is your boyfriend so he is still your favorite, but he would scold you for wanting another’s member photo-card more than his. “i already have a lot of pictures of you, love, even the prettiest one,” you would reassure him, hugging him from behind as he does the dishes. would only hum at you, a bit sulkily, he would come back to being all lovey dovey with you two minutes after.

jake would be devastated after you announce him the bad news. would be talking about how you both should match with each other’s photocard in your phone cases — would feel his universe crumble right when you tell him that you don’t have any of his photo cards. “does that mean that you hate me？i can’t believe this,” then would stare at you with his big, puppy, teary eyes until you give in and tell him that he was always your favorite member.

sunghoon would stare at you with nothing but pure disbelief in his eyes, “w-what do you mean i’m not your bias？who else but your boyfriend could be your bias？don’t tell me it’s ...” and whatever you would ask him to do will be denied with something along the line of ‘why won’t you ask your bias to do it’ for several days. what would be really funny is the fact that he would do the very thing you asked him to do after saying these few words with a huff. he may not he your bias but he is your boyfriend, after all.

sunoo would not be phased at all. it would at least seem like the news doesn’t bother him that much. would just react with a surprised ‘oh ! alright then ..’ and then he would start talking about something completely different. secretly, he would be plotting on the day he could break our heart just the way you did with his. “well, you are not really my favorite either,” he would tell you completely out of no where, and you would be a bit confused— “..okay?”

jungwon would think you are joking at first. with a gentle chuckle, he would brush it off the first time to tell him that another member but him is your bias. “you were really serious?” he would ask with a nervous laugh the next time it happens. would do something super annoying, for instance; tickling you until you tell him he was always your favorite member. you would find yourself all red in the face and out of breath because of him, “that’s what i thought,” he would grin, before giving you a kiss.

riki would just accept his fate, although he would be a bit hurt in his ego. would immediately go silent for a while, rethinking all his life decisions and wondering what did he ever do or not do to be your bias. after a while, he would decide that he doesn’t care. would playfully come bump his hip in yours while you do the dishes, “you are so slow,” and you would only huff, responding with, “that’s why you are not my bias, pft,”

taglist open— this is still not manbun jake but ..

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eddiemunsonswhxre · 15 hours

Text

on camera / jj maybank

rated: m (18+, minors dni)

masterlist

wc: 4.2k

cw: onlyfans!jj, voyeurism, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv (don't do this!!), cursing, some degradation (whore, slut)

you complain to jj about being broke. after being offended at his onlyfans suggestion, you learn something new about your best friend. offering to show you what he means turns into something neither of you were anticipating.

(i'm going to make this a series, leave comments/send requests for what else jj and reader could film together *winky face*)

“i’m not making an only fans,” you scoff, walking away from jj and towards the chateau.

jj rolls his eyes before chasing after you. “why not? you need money, it’s so easy, and you have a hot body. it’s a no brainer, y/n,” he tries saying.

“i don’t really want my naked body on the internet,” you say.

jj grabs the door you try hard to slam in his face to get away. “okay, that’s a valid concern, but just blur your face,” he continues.

you groan, turning to face him since you won’t be getting away. “even if i wanted to, the thought of recording myself and just ugh it’s terrifying,” you explain.

“it isn’t that bad, y/n, i swear,” jj says, looking at you seriously.

you shake your head, eyes closed. “like you would know, jj,” you mutter.

jj purses his lips, debating the risk of just saying it all. “you don’t really think i make all that money just working at the country club, do you?” he asks in a lower voice. your face changes to shock, jj does what?

“wait… you have a…” you begin, not knowing fully how to process.

jj nods slowly. “yeah, and it’s not like i make enough to live off of, but combined with my job… it helps. and you’re saying your job isn’t enough and i’m telling you something like this could help you get more of the money you need,” he says.

“i need a minute,” you mutter, walking to the couch. you bring your hand to your mouth, biting your nails as images flash in your mind. how did it work? what did he do? did he set up a camera? did he take photos? did he video himself cumming? did he make videos with other girls?

jj chuckles awkwardly, seeing the gears in your head turning. he walks over, sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “most of the time, it’s like pictures i just take on my phone in the mirror or something. or i’ll take short videos just… well, you know like on snapchat or something type ones. and occasionally i’ll go through the effort of setting my phone up, bought a stupid tripod and everything, and i get more money when i talk in them or really just make noises in general. my face is either never in them or always blurred, it gets easier as you go,” he explains.

you shake your head again, covering your eyes. “j, i don’t wanna think about you like that,” you whine in complaint. jj laughs, putting his hand on your shoulder.

“sorry, sweetheart,” he says with a small smile. “just trying to give you an idea of how easy it could be, only if you want,” he explains before taking his hand away.

“well, i just don’t think i could. i honestly find it hard to believe you can,” you chuckle, picking at a string on the couch.

jj puts his hand to his chest in mock offense. “what do you mean? i happen to be quite the sex symbol thank you very much,” he says. you both laugh, shaking your head at his theatrics.

now how did you get in this position? you weren’t sure. jj’s always been known for being convincing and a little too inappropriate, especially when it comes to you. you just weren’t sure how he managed to convince you into this.

“you sure?” jj asks, grabbing the remote for his led lights and turning it to red. you blink in surprise at the lights and then he turns the overhead light off.

you look at him, seeing him already looking at you expectantly. “did you buy led lights just for this?” you ask, and jj nods sheepishly. “i knew it was out of character for you,” you mutter, looking around more at his room to see that it’s more cleaned up than usual.

jj takes a moment to process your words. he didn’t know you realized that much about him. “that’s not an answer to my question,” he points out.

you take a breath, analyzing the scene in front of you. for the first time in your life, jj’s bed was made. the room was casted in the warm light of a single lamp and the red leds. his phone was set up on a small tripod on top of his dresser facing his empty bed. “you have a door, if i can’t do it… i’ll leave,” you say.

jj nods and walks over to his phone. “i do talk… during them, it uh, they like it more that way. so it’s kind of like i’m acting out a scene with no one else there. really makin’ use of the imagination,” he explains. you nod, wrapping your arms around yourself and standing next to the dresser and out of frame of his camera. he gives you a sheepish smile before pressing record.

it’s not like you had much time to prepare for this. i mean… how do you really prepare to watch your best friend make porn? if jj was uncomfortable, he wasn’t showing it.

he moved in front of the phone camera, giving you one last glance before peeling his shirt over his head. “i’ve been waiting on this all day, baby,” he mutters, causing your eyes to bulge out of your head. why did he sound so much sexier all of a sudden?

he rubs his hands down his torso slowly, sensually until he reaches the waistband of his shorts. “you want me to take them off? you wanna come help me get my dick hard?” he asks in a teasing voice.

maybe you weren’t ready for this. but part of you wanted to stay, needed to stay even. he tsked, pushing down the basketball shorts he’d been wearing for the day. you bit your lip, watching him sit down on the edge of his bed. “come touch me, baby,” he says, leaning back and sliding his hand down to run over his half hard length. he lets out a small groan. “just like that, mm,” he says, closing his eyes. your stomach dips in arousal. jj had always been hot, but he’d also always been your best friend. but right now, you wanted nothing more than to be the girl he was fantasizing about for his video.

your eyes are trained on the growing tent in his boxers, seeing his dick grow with each pass of his hand. everytime you thought he was at his fullest, he kept growing. you rock from foot to foot to give yourself something else to maybe focus on, but it wasn’t working. “you feel how hard you get daddy?” he asks the camera and you’re at a loss of air. you never thought hearing jj referring to himself as daddy would get you so hot. you knew your face was on fire, and you felt all too hot with way too many clothes. jj glanced at you, gulping when he saw your flustered expression.

“time to get out of these,” he muttered, eyes more on you than the camera, as if to warn you. he lifted up his hips while leaning back on one arm and then used the other to push down his waist band. his cock bounced free and you felt your panties dampen. he pushed them completely off quickly and then his hand was wrapped around the base of his thick, long, cock. he looked… ethereal. bathed in a mixture of warm light and red, making his skin look perfect. he let out a low moan as he tugged upwards. “fuck, always making me feel so good,” he grunts, jerking himself slowly. he dares to look at you once more, dick twitching at the sight of your obvious nerves and subtle movement of your thighs rubbing together.

he continued to jerk himself, imagining you getting on your knees in front of him. “i want you to choke on this cock baby, get it all nice and wet for me so i can fuck you so good,” he groans. you’re unable to hold back the small whimper and jj’s eyes shoot to you as you put your hand over your mouth.

jj knows he has the opportunity, and he would hate himself if he didn’t try. “why don’t you just come over here, y/n?” he asks, sitting up straighter.

you blink hard, glancing from him to the phone in complete shock. “i-, you-” you scramble, pointing to the phone.

he understands your concern. “i’ll bleep out your name, our faces will be blurred, i won’t even post it if you don’t want to. just try, with me, please?” he proposed. a million thoughts ran through your mind, hundreds of concerns, lots of questions, but above all: desire.

“o-okay,” you whisper. jj smiles at your response and motions you over to him. he scoots to the side of his bed, looking at his phone screen to make sure he’s still in view.

you walk slowly to the side of his bed. “take these clothes off for me, pretty girl,” he hums, grabbing you by your waist and running his hands up and down your sides. “i’ll cut this part out, but if you want to slow down or stop just let me know okay? this is all in your ballpark now, y/n,” he says, massaging your hips with his thumbs.

you look to the phone, seeing the image being recorded and take a deep breath. “okay, but i-i’m going to need to just follow your lead, i-i’m nervous,” you admit.

“nervous because of the phone or because of me?” he asks.

you shrug, looking away from him. “both,” you answer truthfully.

jj nods understandingly. “um, would you rather not do it, because it’s me? i’m going to be so honest when i say, i’ve thought about you, like this, a lot. but i get it, we’re friends and if you’re scared of this hurting that i get it. but personally, i don’t think anything could ruin our relationship,” he says.

“j, i want to, i just… need your direction,” you explain.

jj smiles at your response, it soon turning to a smirk. “good thing i like being in charge,” he mutters, snapping your waist band. you giggle shyly before guiding jj’s hands to undo the button of your shorts. “oh, needy girl needs me to do it all for her. i see,” he says, yanking you towards him so he can pull them down. jj looks at the pair of underwear you have on and his face starts to get a bit redder.

“look at these,” he hums, running his hands along the band at your hips. they were a nice dark green lace with a little bow that was way too innocent for how they looked. “show them your pretty panties, baby,” he says, using his grip to turn you to face the camera. you move your hips jokingly side to side, trying to make yourself less nervous. “there you go, look at this little bow,” he chuckles, flicking it with his finger. “let’s show em the back,” he says after a minute of you standing there and him running his hands along them. he lets out a grunt as the cheeky bottoms show off your ass.

jj always thought you had a really nice ass, but right now? he was obsessed. “what?” you muttered, noticing his silence.

he just looks up to you shaking his head. “can’t believe you’ve been hiding this ass from me,” he says, reaching around you and gripping a cheek harshly for the camera to see before slapping it. you yelp in surprise causing jj to smile smugly.

jj reaches for the edge of your t-shirt, pulling you back to face him before pushing it up. you follow his hint, taking it in your hands and pulling it off to drop it on the floor. “oh fuck, look at those,” jj says, grabbing your waist and pulling you as close to him as he can. he wastes no time burying his face in between your breasts and kissing up your sternum.

“j,” you mutter in ecstasy, arousal flooding your panties as you start to really think about the situation you’re in.

you put your hands into his hair, running the strands between your fingers. “don’t say my name, baby,” he mutters against your skin. his tongue softly caresses the swell of your breast before he begins sucking.

you pout, but realize you probably shouldn’t be using names if this was going to be posted to jj’s only fans. “what am i supposed to call you then?” you ask, letting your head fall back as you took in the feeling of him sucking on your tits.

jj chuckled and then pulled away from your skin. “daddy,” he says, squeezing your ass in tandem to get you to look at him. you look at him in shock, not expecting him to be so forward. “or, if that’s too much, just stick with babe and stuff, ok?” he continues before checking to make sure you were good. you nod in response and he smiles, looking to the camera before beginning to adjust you. jj pulls you onto his lap, making you straddle his thigh.

he presses his lips to yours passionately and you let out a moan of surprise. kissing jj just felt right. you held his neck with one hand, the other fisting the hair at the nape of his neck. jj held your hip with one hand and used the other on the back of your neck to push you into him. “need to work you up a bit, don’t want this done too fast,” he mumbles into your mouth.

after a moment of just that, both his hands fall to your hips and he uses his grip to grind you against his bare thigh before pulling away. “fuck, baby, i can feel how wet you are through your panties,” he groans, eyes closing at the feeling of your arousal seep through the thin fabric and leave a trail on his thigh. you whine, burying your face in his neck and beginning to suck a hickey above his collarbone. “what a good girl, getting all messy for me with so little attention. you just want to be my good little girl, don’t ya,” jj grunts, his mind struggling to process that he was talking to you and not a screen.

jj pushes you off him carefully, laying you down on the bed so your pussy was facing the camera. he sits to your side, grabbing the sides of your panties and looking to you for approval. you nod and he wastes no time peeling them off your body, mouth watering at the sight of a string of arousal connecting your soaked panties to your core. he throws your underwear to the side and then yanks your knees open so the camera could see you all spread out. jj pulls your leg over his lap as he slightly turns. “can i touch your pretty pussy, baby?” he asks, rubbing the innermost part of your thigh just centimeters from your throbbing cunt, all while looking you in the eyes.

“please,” you whimper, trying to thrust your hips down towards his hand.

jj smirks, using his middle finger and dipping it into the pool of your arousal near your entrance. his fingers slowly glide upwards, the anticipation making you bite on your lower lip. he reaches your clit, using his singular finger to make slow, slippery circles around your clit. you look to his face, seeing just how focused in he is on his movements. “so wet for me, i think i might have to make this pretty pink little pussy mine,” he says in a husky voice while using his finger to pull your clit upwards, stretching your lips and making you whimper.

“daddy, please,” you say, wriggling your hips. jj looks up to you in slight shock, not expecting you to fall so comfortably so fast.

jj tsks, adding another finger to swipe across your clit a couple times before lowering down. he checks his phone to make sure you’re both still in frame and then dips his middle and ring finger into you. you moan lowly, letting your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of finally having something inside of you. jj closes his eyes to hold himself together as he starts slowly moving his fingers in and out of you. “you look like such a whore for me, baby,” he says, watching you through his phone screen, mesmerized by the way his fingers easily disappeared into you. he knew his head would be spinning the second his dick was inside of you. “dreamt of this cunt, holy shit,” jj groans, speeding up his pace as you grip onto his arm. you whimper beneath his hand, needing more friction on your clit.

you squeeze your legs together, the sensation making you choke in pleasure as you scratch jj’s arm. “more,” you moan, back arching as your closed legs make jj’s palm make contact with your clit.

“more?” jj chuckles, taking his hand away from your pussy and watching mesmerized as you whine for his touch. “does my little slut want my dick? already?” he teases, shoving your knees apart once more. you nod eagerly at him, pussy clenching around nothing. jj motions for you to sit up and you do. he helps maneuver you so you’re now facing sideways, but a little diagonal with your bottom angled slightly towards the camera.

jj moves to his knees, kneeling in front of you now. “you good with this still?” he asks, faltering back to his semi worried state, checking on you.

you hold your hands out towards him causing him to lean towards you. you grab the sides of his neck forcing him to stare directly into your eyes. “i really, really need you to fuck me,” you say, thumb tracing his jaw. jj lets out a breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as he tries to hold himself back. he was doing this for you as a friend. he said that this wasn’t going to change your friendship and he wanted to stick as closely to that as possible. he had an overwhelming urge to kiss you, but you didn’t ask for anything romantic between the two of you, this was business. kissing you would mess it up, it would make it too personal.

he pulls back gently, grabbing your hips and pulling them to him. to avoid having his urge to kiss you worsen, he opts to keep his face further from yours. “i’ll pull out,” he mutters lowly, not wanting to stop to search for a condom he wasn’t even sure he had. you just nod feverishly, not even caring if he decided to cum inside you anyway. “gonna fuck this pretty pussy so good,” he groans, using his hand to guide himself to your entrance.

he slips just the head of his cock inside, feeling you clench around him as a small moan leaves your lips. “daddy, please, want it hard,” you whine. jj swears his eyes could roll back into his head after hearing you say those words.

before you can register his movements, you’re moaning and throwing your head back as pleasure begins blooming in your gut. jj grabs the backs of your knees, moving your legs up to rest on his chest. he holds onto your lower calves as he rams his dick fully inside of you with no warning. you’re gripping the bed sheets as he grunts and pulls his hips back. “bout to fuck you so hard you’ll go fucking stupid,” he says, punctuating with a sharp forward thrust would sends him into a steady rhythm. the sound of his balls slapping against your ass fill his room, his phone picking up each whimper and grunt that escapes the two of you. you look over to the camera, pussy clenching as it fully hits you.

jj was recording himself fuck you. he was filming, and he was fucking you. and he was going to post it. not only would a bunch of strangers get to see this, but jj would have it. he could watch it over, and over, and over again. you look at the image reflected on the screen. jj had your legs held tightly to his chest, your breasts were bouncing with each impact he made and you could see his balls slapping against you. your fingers were gripping the sheets and jj’s thighs were beginning to shake. he was holding himself back. he was going to cum because of you on camera. shit, he was going to make you cum on camera and then post it for his followers to see so he could make money off it. you had never felt so turned on.

not wanting to make jj suffer, you reach your hand furthest from the camera to your clit. “that’s it, babygirl, fuckkk yeah rub that pretty clit for daddy,” jj groans, watching your fingers move swiftly over your slick, sensitive clit. you curse, clenching around him as your fingers begin to send you to your edge. you’d never cum so fast, but the idea of being on camera and doing it with jj was something much more arousing than what you’d previously experienced.

the feeling in your lower stomach was causing you to see stars as it grew tighter and tighter. you sped up the movement of your fingers as jj’s cock stretched you perfectly. “i-i think i’m gonna c-cum already,” you whine, eyes fluttering shut.

jj picks up his pace, using all of his concentration on not busting inside of you. “cum for me, my fucking whore, fucking cum,” he grunts, his own vision beginning to blur. a loud, gasping moan is heard from you as you tighten around him almost painfully hard and your back arches high off the bed. you body jolts as your fingers continue their speed on your clit. jj drops your legs, pulling out of you quickly to rut between the juncture of your hip and lip of your pussy. you feel his cock nudging the edge of your hand as you send yourself through your orgasm and immediately grab his cock, moving him over to hump against your wet slit, the head of his cock rubbing against your clit as you covered him with your hand. jj grunts, hips stuttering as ropes of his cum splatter against your clit and up past your belly button. his hips grind harder into you as his jaw is dropped in a moan, reveling in riding out his orgasm with the feeling of spreading his cum across your pussy lips.

both of you pant as you come down from your highs. once jj has enough of a hold on himself again, he pushes himself up and moves your hips to once again face the camera. he shows the camera your pussy, coated in his white cum as you intermediately clench around nothing while you finish coming down. jj moves to get up, stopping the recording and grabbing a t shirt from the floor. he wordlessly wipes you off, being extra careful to lightly go over your sensitive pussy. he wipes himself off as well and then throws the shirt back down and sits next to where your head was resting, eyes closed against the bed.

“doing okay, y/n?” jj asks, looking at you unsure. you hum lowly, nodding. you blindly reach out next to you, your hand patting against the bed and jj’s thigh until he takes the hint and grabs ahold of your hand. “you sure?” he asks, rubbing the top of your knuckles with his thumb.

you slowly blink your eyes open before looking at him. “i am doing… so much more than okay,” you say with a smile on your face. you both laugh and jj smiles at you with adoration. “so, when are you um, posting it?” you ask.

jj looks at you for a moment, smiling fading into a more serious face. “you know i don’t have to post it right?” he reminds you.

“uh yes you do, do i get a cut of what you make off it?” you say, also serious but putting a joking tone underneath.

his finger stops stroking your knuckles. “you’re for real?” he asks and you’re quickly nodding. “well, um, it shouldn’t take me more than tonight to edit it,” he shrugs.

you smile up at him before pushing yourself up to your elbows. “so send me the link when you post it?” you ask, tone flirtier than before. jj smirks at you, liking this attitude on you.

“you’ll have access to everything i’ve posted…” he trails off.

you raise your brows. “is that a problem?” you question.

jj shakes his head, smirk growing. “just don’t hurt your arm fingering yourself to me,” he shrugs. you roll your eyes and smack him in the arm to which he just laughs.

“funny, now can you help me up please?” jj immediately moves to help you stand, talking to distract you from the fact that his dick was twitching again at the thought of you getting yourself off to him.

#jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #outerbanks #jj x reader smut #smut #smut smut smut #onlyfans jj #jj maybank onlyfans #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut

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ghostybaby000 · 2 days

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A Night Out | Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Summary: What started out as a simple night of catching up with old colleagues soon becomes a worst fear come true, and calling Simon is all you can think to do.

Word count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+,violence, blood, cursing, SA, alcohol

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla

(Not fully edited, apologies for any inconsistencies!)

‘You be safe tonight.’ Simons voice came from behind you as he helped you to zip your dress. He would be going with you like any other night, but you insisted that you would be okay on your own.

‘Always.’ Your smile meets his as you feel his hands come around your waist.

He takes a moment to stand behind you in the mirror, smiling down at you, his eyes wandering all over. You never really dressed up to go anywhere, but tonight a mid length dress and some simple shoes suited the event. It would be a causal catch up at the local bar, with some old collages and you wanted to look nice.

You hadn’t seen them in years, probably more than three if you had to guess. You used to all work at a firm together, and found a small friend group in the making. After you had finished your plans with the firm, you and others split up going in different directions and eventually losing contact. That is until you got a notification for a get together and found yourself going through memories of fun days at the office, and outside brunches where the gossip flourished. You never showed for that portion though, you simply wanted to chat with friends and enjoy the time together and hoped that that’s what tonight would be.

You grabbed your clutch and made your way to the door, Simon following you behind. He grabbed the keys from the small dish by the door, he would be driving you tonight. You knew that he would have let you taxi, but he felt better knowing where you were for himself. He laid his hand on your thigh as the drive took about 10 minutes or so, listening to music and talking about the people you were meeting.

Simon pulled up in front of the larger bar, and gripped your thigh tighter, getting your attention. You looked over to him and allowed yourself a breath, you were more nervous now than you had been the night before. You clear your throat before telling him,

‘I will call you if anything happens, and when I’m ready to go home.’ Simon nodded, planted a kiss to your hand and made his way back home. You watched his car pull out of the lot and felt a small sadness in seeing him go. You were startled when you heard yelling from behind you.

The smaller group of 3 girls and 1 guy were chatting loudly outside the bar when they spotted you.

‘Y/N! Is that you over there!? C’mon get over here so we can go in and order drinks!’ You let a small laugh echo through your body, nowhere near loud enough to match their energy. You weren’t a big drinker on most nights but knew that Simon would be picking you up and you were able to let loose a little. You made your way over with introductions to everyone, seeing the group hadn’t changed much from their younger years. They still dressed as if they were years younger, and were immediately chatting over who was recently married or divorced.

You spoke for a while before getting your drinks, your old colleagues downing them in seconds. They looked to each other and then to you and started to giggle. You had taken a few sips instead not wanting to let loose too quickly.

‘Oh Y/N, you haven’t changed.’ A brunette from the corner said, her shorter hair swaying as she looked to the others for confidence. You smiled a little, trying to tell if it was a compliment or not- either way it wasn’t setting you off course for tonight, you were here to have a good time.

The brunette that had made the comment was snickering to the girl next to her, the only other two of the group eating the appetizer in front of you. You felt your stomach go a little queasy from anxiousness and decided to slam your drink. With a thud your glass landed back on the table and you felt their eyes all motion to look at you. The two that had been gossiping simply raised their brows, nodded and began talking about the music or something, you weren’t listening.

‘That’s what I’m talkin’ about Y/N!’ the male from the friend group put his hand on your back, and to your surprise left it there for quite some time. You didn’t think much of it, assuming he wouldn’t try anything seems how you had been friends for a while, but didn’t really know anything about eachother anymore. More drinks came, and down they went. You were starting to feel tipsy but could still manage easily to get home on your own if you needed.

You pulled your phone from your small clutch to see that 2 hours had passed by already, taking note of that you decided to slow down on the drinking. The group got up to dance, leaving you in your seat- if you tried to dance like they were you surely wouldn’t make it home in a clean dress. Everyone came back to have another drink then going back out to the dance floor, one of the brunettes from the group, this one with long curls bouncing when she walked, came over to you and whispered.

‘Hey, you should get out of your seat and come dance, its fun!- Right guys!?’ She broke her whisper in your ear to yell across the table to the dance floor where they hollered a jumble of words back that you couldn’t make out.

You laughed at their behavior and decided you should get a little out of your comfort zone, you hardly went out to places like this so why not enjoy it? You finished the drink you had and looked to her, anticipation on her face.

‘Alright, alright- lets dance!’ You slipped out of your seat and found yourself having great fun while on the dance floor. Swinging around with one of the girls somehow turned into a dance with the guy from the group. He was plenty drunk, his motions uncoordinated and his breath obvious. You and the others were laughing and decided to get back to your seats, when you feel his hand swipe at your bottom. You became as sober as those few seconds allowed you as you spun around to him, a confused look on your face. He didn’t look at you and instead pushed past you- maybe it was an accident.

You were all red in the face from dancing as you ordered another round, which you told yourself would be your last, you still had things to do tomorrow after all. You sipped your last drink as they all chatted around you, another song coming on the speakers. 2 of the other girls jumped form their seats and told you to join them, the guy and one girl from the group staying seated. You asked them to watch your drink while you were gone and they pulled it closer to them, you figured they would.

You began to dance to the song, the crowd growing larger and larger from the popular music. The song was just starting to stop as you looked to where you and the group had been seated, over the heads of people in the crowd you see the guy and girl were practically on top of each other, clearly not paying any attention to your drink. You made your way through the people saying ‘excuse me’ not that it could be heard over the voices and music. You quickly found your way to the table and pulled your drink back towards you. You took the time to notice that another few hours had passed, and shot Simon a slurred text. You knew he would be up waiting for it, he never slept until you were back home and safe.

‘Simon I htiink its time fror me to go home?’

Sent

You slipped your phone back into your clutch and decided to have a sip of your drink, forgetting that you had been gone for so long, you spat it out and ditched it. You had to go to the bathroom and saw that there wasn’t a line and went for it. You made your way inside, the brighter white lights almost blinding you as you found your way into a stall, it was surprisingly quiet. You shake your head, only making things worse-you were going to be sick. You quickly pushed the stall door closed and spun to face the toilet. You let the appetizers come up along with a few drinks when you heard the bathroom door open, your dizziness only getting worse.

You wiped off your mouth with toilet paper and flushed it, there were no giggles coming into the bathroom, but the echo of boots bounced off the walls. The drinks that had come out of you along with adrenaline allowed you to scurry up onto the seat, you were grateful you hadn’t worn ridiculous shoes tonight. If it was girl and you were wrong you would look foolish, but this was no girl-you were confident.

The shadow of a man consumed the dainty bathroom as he made his way inside, blocking the only exit. You fumbled out your phone and called Simon, the volume turned down so that you could barley hear the ring.

#ghost x reader #call of duty fanart #cod fanfic #books #cod ghost #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x y/n #simon ghost riley #ghost x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #ghost call of duty #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader

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edgeray · 2 days

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mygod that siren Arlecchino fic you did is *chef's kiss* IMMACULATE!!! might i request a continuation, mayhaps? Arle mentioned that she'd follow the reader as they sail, so maybe she misses them and either tries to climb onto the boat or the pier where they're docked to see them again? either hurt/comfort or fluff, the rest is up to you!!! love your work and thank you for fueling my Arlecchino obsession :] also i might pop back in here once in a while, may i be moth anon?

The Sea's Calling Pt. 2

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N - Part 1 link here. Yes, you definitely can be a moth anon! Hi :D. I already added you to the anon list. To other anons that have requested and I haven't gotten to, I do see your requests and if you gave yourself an emoji/name I already added you ^^. Anyways, back to moth anon. <333 I'm so glad you enjoyed my siren Arlecchino fic! As my first request I was kind of nervous about it but I'm glad that you enjoy! I'm also really glad that you sent this request! I did always want to write a part 2 but didn't have the opportunity until now. Thanks moth anon, for the reuqest and for enjoying my works!! If you couldn't tell, I love the idea of found family pirates. One Piece did this to me. The ending turned out to be self-indulgent, forgive me moth anon ;) Even though it's short, this ended up being one of my favorites. Hope you like this one! Content warnings / info - monster x human, arle is ooc bc she's a siren, fem! reader bc pt.1 has fem! reader, suggestive at the end, 1.2k words

You used to think that the most beautiful thing out there was the sky and its stars–to you, nothing was more mesmerizing than them. They are so alluring despite holding this mystique, and they've guided humans on their naval journeys and inspired all kinds of stories of their origins. The stars were all that kept you company, even on the lonliest and coldest nights.

Now, however, the stars aren't your only company.

“Guys, I'm going to go back to the ship. Don't wait up on me too much,” you to your fellow pirates as you stand up from the stool. You drop off some extra coins on the baa counter, in order to compensate for the plate that you will be ‘borrowing.’ You pick up the plate of your half-eaten slice of meat pie and sandwich and head towards the exit before one of your crew mates stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Turning in already? C'mon, stay a little bit. We've got enough money for a few more rounds of beer,” he says with a boisterous laugh. You chuckle lightly but shake your head.

“No can do, sorry. Got something to do.”

“Uh huh, like your little siren girlfriend?” Another crew member states, her teasing smile widening as you flush.

“One more? Jackie hasn't finished his story!”

“Let the darned woman go see her darn girlfriend, Goldie,” another gruffed with a shake of his head.

“Fine, fine, go on ahead. Tch, when will I get my own smoking hot siren girl?” Goldie huffs, and you snort. Likely never, but you don't tell him that.

“Thanks, I'll be back,” is all you say before rushing out of the door, nearly tipping over the plate before you balance it again. You wave them off and you make your way back to the docks. The walk is both short and long, and each step you take is filled with the excitement that buzzes through you.

Even after these months, being able to spend time with her feels like bliss, like you have just found treasure. Sometimes, you forget she's a siren, she's ever so endearing and follows you around like a puppy. Oftentimes, when you're on the boat, you talk to her as she lingers by. The night after you first met the siren your crew had banned you from jumping into the waters because you had developed a cold which infected a good chunk of the crew; the cold wasn't severe for anyone but still. Since you can't be in the water, you often just talk to her from the railings and she answers.

It's only when you're docked when you can finally touch her, but those times come rare. It can take days, sometimes weeks to reach an island to dock at, but when you do, you always take the time to sit by the shore.

Finally, you arrive at the pier. “Arle?” You call out, and you see a ripple in the water. Grinning, you walk to the ends of one of the docks, setting down the plate a bit away from you. You remove your shoes and set them far away. Perching on the dock, your feet dip into the cold waters and you shiver.

You see something gleam in the corner of your eyes, the familiar shine of her scales. You then remember the food, and you start. “Wait, Arle don't splash–”

Too late. Something erupts from the waters and launches into you, a cold, heavy weight thrusting into your body making you tumble on your back on the dock. Pressed between the wooden planks and the creature that straddles you, you can't help but laugh and raise your hand up to her face, the now drenched food forgotten entirely.

“Hey gorgeous,” you say as you stroke her cheek gently. She's the most beautiful treasure that you found among the seas. Arlecchino gazes down on you, her red pupils glistering as her arms wrap around your torso. She purrs, little fangs apparent as the tip of her tongue peeks out with her open-mouth smile.

“Missed you,” is the first thing she says, before she leans her body against you, nuzzling her face into your neck. Your clothes get soaked from her, but you pay no mind. You stroke her wet hair, carding your fingers through her strands before kissing the top of her head.

“I missed you too. Did you eat recently?”

Sometimes she'd disappear for a few nights to search for another wandering ship for her meals but she never fails to find your ship again. You haven't seen her for a couple days before you docked her.

Arlecchino nods. “Human food?” She questions. Her tail flicks, thumping against the wood out of eagerness. Although she enjoys the taste of cooked meats, beef especially, you don't believe it's as nutrition dense as… well, the main source of her diet, and it's hard to serve her cooked meat while on sea due to the issue of storing meat on ships. So, cooked meat has always been a treat for her.

You nod. “You want to try?”

She lets out an affirmative purr, and you help her sit upright in your lap. It's always a bit difficult considering she has a tail instead of legs, but she maneuvers her tail to encircle your waist, and you support her back with one of your arms. You silently mourn for your now soggy sandwich as you reach for the plate, using her tail as a flat surface.

“What is it?”

“Meat pie and a sandwich.” You take the fork and dig out the meat from the meat pie. Balancing the tender piece of beef on your utensil, you carefully guide it to her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot. And don't bite the fork this time,” you gently warn her as she eats it. She squirms a bit in your lap, an indicator that she's pleased with the taste.

“More?” You chuckle, adoring the cute plea in her eyes.

You scrape out more of the meat until she's eaten all of the pie filling, leaving you to eat the pie crust. You're still peckish, so you start eating your sandwich, but not before fishing out the thick slice of ham from it, and giving it to her. If it meant you could watch the way her expression lights up again forever, then you would endlessly eat ham-less sandwiches and savor every cheese and vegetables sandwiched in between wet bread.

“Did you like it?” You ask in between chews as she leans her head against your shoulder. She nods, and leans up again to place featherlight kisses on your neck. With the cold droplets of water and her frigid lips, it tickles you and you giggle. So adorable.

You freeze up when you feel her fangs prick your skin and she looks up to you for permission. Another mating bite? You nod, wordlessly giving her permission, and you suck in a harsh breath as you feel her teeth sink in. Purrs vibrate coarse through her mouth as she pulls away, lapping at the mark and the texture of her tongue invokes a throaty groan from you, your body trembling with pleasure.

Arlecchino leans away, but in her eyes, hunger burns in them. Her hands take purchase on your hips and she pushes your back against the planks. Her tail unwinds around your torso and instead coils around your ankles, securing them together.

“H-here?” You question, flushing. Her hands wander lower, the sharp nails trailing lower to your thighs, where faint scratches scatter.

The night that you first met her, she sang so beautifully for you. Tonight, you repay her back, singing out her name so tastefully.

#arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #arlecchino #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact fics #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fic #genshin fics #edgeray.writes #edgeray.requests #edgeray.mothanon

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hongjoongspoetry · 3 days

Text

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 2 – The Autumn Within Me Is Grieving

⛸️ Summary: Attending the Halloween party wasn’t in your plans for the weekend, but neither was getting completely drunk and swayed by the sweet words of the man you despised the most. Being introduced to a laid-back version of you, Mingi couldn’t decide whether he missed your heated feuds or wanted more of the intimate conversations. It seemed heated discussions weren’t just a speciality between you two, but a reoccurring event between Dasom and Keeho who just couldn’t stop meddling with your love life.

⛸️ Pairing(s): Hockey Player!Mingi x Figure Skater!Reader, Figure Skater!Hyunjin x Figure Skater!Reader

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, angst, fluff

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Explicit language, alcohol consumption, petname (princess), a house party, making out, dirty thoughts, everyone is horny 😭, bang chan is a douche, brief mention of blood and a broken nose, a brief scene with vomiting, talks of sex jokingly, a whole lot of misunderstandings

⛸️ Wordcount: 12.6K

⛸️ Author's note: It wouldn't be a real fanfic without at least one house party scene. As promised, in this part our lovely main characters have more moments together 🤭 This one was fun to write as I got to experiment with different personalities and character perspectives. But I'm mostly excited for the third part, my personal favourite actually!!! Coincidentally it's also where shit hits the fan.

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights, as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs, please, refrain from reading or interacting with this work or my blog!!!

You were certain Hyunjin was a prince in his previous life and if not a prince then a duke or a marquess. Everything about him screamed nobility, from his beauty to his chivalrous behavior. Even when sweaty and sporting plain black clothes, he looked majestic twirling on the ice. You, on the other hand, could undergo hours of training and still not achieve a speck of the stage presence and confidence he radiated. The probability of him finding you attractive was low and you weren’t about to entertain the idea of him having a massive crush on you.

Like. Attractive. Crush. Hyunjin. Stupid. Like. Attractive. Crush. Hyunjin. Stupid.

The endless words plagued your mind and the focus that was supposed to be on your skating went towards Keeho’s stupid theory instead, making your movements either too big or too small, sloppy or sharp, and just downright awful. A puff of frustration fused with the cold air. You couldn’t even do a simple jump without nearly falling to your knees. Hyunjin, who observed you from the sidelines, winced as the fierce choreography you were supposed to breathe life into was dull and far from lively. The corners of your mouth reached the pits of hell as you stopped before him.

“Take a few minutes and collect yourself,” he offered with a small smile that would usually have you buzzing with joy.

You had been at it for a little more than an hour and not much progress had been made since your practice with Mr. Jung.

“If I may?”

Facing each other with his hands hovering slightly over your hips, Hyunjin patiently waited for your consent, which you dumbfoundedly gave with a nod. His large yet slim hands gently grabbed at your clothed flesh.

“You’re stiff. Your hips need to go like this,” he explained and demonstrated.

The intimacy of the situation had you sweating through your clothes. One would think you were in a sauna and not a room operated by large underground refrigerators. Throughout your twenty-something years on earth, you had experienced a fair share of contact with the opposite gender, from your childhood days of pair skating to the overly supervised school dances. If that wasn’t enough, you were friends with Keeho, a man who couldn’t go a day without pinching your cheeks, patting the top of your head, or simply hooking his arm through yours. God help anyone initiating skinship with him, though.

But those boys — the nine-year-old who could barely guide little you through a twirl, your high school prom date who didn’t dare look anywhere below your collarbones during the slow dances and your best friend — weren’t Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, who stirred your insides until they were a big blob of goo and turned your bones — the thick and sturdy creamy white structure going through your body — into jelly barely holding you up.

Hyunjin, who made you giggle like a high schooler, feet dangling in the air and pillow swallowing your girly shrieks was the same man who left you tongue tied and sent your brain into short circuiting.

Hyunjin who you admired deeply.

The intoxicating yet innocent touch of his fingers ripped off like a bandaid and the bruising reality hit you with a smack. Although Hyunjin was a gentleman through and through, his reciprocation of your feelings weren’t in the definition of a gentleman listed in the national dictionary. The sooner you got that through your head, the less blue you’d be when he found someone better. The feathery feel of his palm pressed against your forehead pulled your eyes to his face and you saw the swirls of worry in his delicate gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” would be the honest answer. How could you — or anyone, for that matter — be alright in his proximity? How could you be alright under his attentive eyes and soft spoken words that cast you under a spell of hopelessness?

“Yeh-yeah.”

You stepped back and swallowed thickly, your dry throat begging for something to drink, preferably vodka or anything strong enough to keep your sanity intact.

Another worrisome question rested on his tongue, but it wasn’t released with the puff of oxygen instead it got squished between his teeth and tightly shut lips. As much as Hyunjin wanted to ease you from whatever kept you on edge and probe into your weird behavior of short and gobbled sentences, he also didn’t want to pry into your private life. You weren’t that close after all. He settled with a solid nod and suggested the idea of grabbing lunch together, insisting a full belly was essential for an athlete’s journey to success, despite your moderately strict diets. It definitely wasn’t a ploy to spend more time with you. Definitely not.

Eating a salad bowl in a little cafe with the prettiest boy on campus wasn’t brought up by the wrinkly tarot lady on your family vacation in Jeju Island five years ago. Not that it would stop your body from heating up like an oven, sending waves of warmth from your center to the tips of your fingers and toes.

“So,” Hyunjin started and poked at the baby carrots in his bowl, pushing them away from the other vegetables and cube-sliced chicken pieces. “How long have you and Mingi been friends for?”

The piece of lettuce you nibbled on flew into your throat with a gasp as you snapped your head up, brows raised and mouth agape, staring into Hyunjin’s relaxed expression.

“Friends?!”

Hyunjin was confused. He was certain you were friends; you were so lively around the hockey player — loose mouth and relaxed posture, not on edge like when Hyunjin was around — that it was only fair to assume so. You showed more personality in the presence of Mingi and to say it didn’t bother Hyunjin wouldn’t fit in with his angelic persona.

“Are you not?” He stabbed a cherry tomato and plopped it in his mouth. Exhaling in relief and hoping you wouldn’t see a small smoke of white gas dissolve into the air like in the cartoons, he proceeded, “I assumed since you’re so… free around him? Although I shouldn’t be assuming things in the beginning, really.”

“Trust me, there’s nothing except a feud between us. The day Mingi and I become anything close to friends, know that the world is ending.”

There it was. The little bite you hid behind shy smiles and giggles only really came out around your friends — or whatever you deemed Mingi to be — and all Hyunjin knew was that he had yet to appear on that short list of yours.

Personally, Hyunjin held no malice against anyone on or off campus but lately, Mingi was really getting on his nerves and it didn’t matter how he tried approaching the topic it all led back to you. There was something about seeing you so relaxed around Mingi that tugged at Hyunjin’s heart. It was a recurring feeling and the realization hit him one random night standing in front of his bathroom mirror where he pointed out all his flaws and wished to have been a little taller or bulkier. The more he thought of Mingi the deeper he went down the spiral of insecurities.

“How’s uni then?”

“Honestly? I think I’m ready to graduate, preferably last week.”

Thankful for the change of conversation, you didn’t bother questioning the new topic. All the talk about Mingi was really tiring you out, as if it wasn’t enough you had to see his face almost every day, now you had to listen to people talk about him. You could only imagine what crime you did in your previous life to deserve such a fate in this one. The sound of an angel laughing fluttered through the cafe and you nearly ascended to heaven.

“I totally get that. It’s so tiring. I mean back in high school we studied, what, eleven courses at once, but now I can barely get one down without being on the edge of a burnout… What are you majoring in to be so stressed though?”

“Social science,” you replied and closed the lid on your almost empty salad. Without thinking you blurted out, “and you’re in arts?”

“Fine arts to be exact, but I’m guessing you already knew that.”

Blood rushed to your face at the teasing remark and you mentally cursed yourself for revealing your mild stalking tendencies.

“It’s not like tha–”

You barely managed to defend yourself when he laughed again, his head thrown back and a hand covering his mouth. Bewitched by his beauty, you forgot what you were saying.

“I’m messing with you,” he chuckled out and winked.

“Right, of course… In my defense, I didn’t know you were studying fine arts.”

“That’s weird. I thought the random splotches of paint on my clothes would give it away.”

You laughed too, albeit not nearly as divine as his but Hyunjin would argue otherwise. Your laugh was sweet and contagious, and he felt his own lips draw up in a permanent smile, something you entirely missed as you closed your eyes from the hearty laughter.

“You have a cute laugh.”

Buckets overflowing with pink and red hearts poured over your head at the compliment and the warmth that followed tickled your skin. His gaze was heavy and you couldn’t hold it, so in an attempt to not completely make a fool of yourself, you turned towards the window, a hand cupping your cheek and shielding your side profile from his flirtatious look. It was evident you were embarrassed and it only added to his adoration of you.

“Cute,” he whispered and you wanted to shrink in your seat until your back touched the floor and became one with the brown tiles.

“Are you trying out for the Spring Championship?” You asked and sipped on your smoothie. It was a stupid question. With Hyunjin’s skills, he’d be crazy not to go for it.

“Yeah, but my coach said I should aim for the pair division instead. Something about showing more of my potential, but I’m not sure. It’s something completely new.” Hyunjin took another bite of his sallad and hummed, “What do you think I should do?”

“Me?”

He nodded. As you put the drink down, your fingers intertwined and scratched at the skin around your colored fingernails.

“I mean, I get what your coach is saying. It would show you’re capable of more than just one skating style and broaden your chances of going professional but you’d have to nail it– Not that you wouldn’t manage! You really are amazing and I’m not saying you aren’t putting in the work–”

Before you could venture into a rant of ‘him being a prodigy’ and ‘knowing best’, his voice sang your name and halted the praise-laden words being readied to launch out of your mouth.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I get what you mean so please, be as honest as you want. I’m lacking some constructive criticism after all.”

You sheepishly smiled and found anything easier to look at than the gorgeous man in front of you. What a polite way to say, ‘I’m so good I can’t remember the last time people pointed out my flaws’.

“What I was going to say is; I think you should do what you feel like doing. Being pushed to do something won’t convey the same emotions as if you did it out of your own interest. The number would be amazing, that I have no doubt about, but perhaps it would maybe lack passion or your signature mark, the thing that screams ‘I am Hyunjin’, y’know?”

Your words were unexpected and wrapped around him like one of those heavy blankets knit by his grandmother; itchy and ruff but warm and calming at the same time. Nothing of what you said was out of proportion and in the five-second long silence Hyunjin realized it was the exact push he needed to start steering the wheel in his desired direction.

“Oh,” he breathed the words softly, “that’s an interesting take.”

“Too much?” You nervously asked.

“Not at all. I could listen to you talk all day.”

The confession hooked beneath your chin like invisible fingers and flicked it up until your wide eyes met his feline-shaped ones. The usually cold spark confined in his dark chocolate orbs was replaced with something tender, as the soil of a forest or the pretty fur of a bear. He perceived you with imaginary kisses of adoration on your face, traveling from your cheeks, nose, eyes and lastly, your lips before trailing back up to your eyes. You were beautiful, but turned even more so after the conversation and Hyunjin cursed himself for not being brave enough to plant real kisses on your stunning features.

“Will you compete in the preliminary?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but you were slightly disappointed by the change of pace. The longing gaze was cut by a simple question, leaving no room for theories or thoughts about what it could possibly mean.

“Yes,” you answered and sipped on the pink drink. As much as you were bitter, the smoothie wasn’t, courtesy of the strawberry and white chocolate mixed together with a dash of rainbow sprinkles.

“I think you have a great shot of winning.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and there are only, what? Two or three girls who are remotely close to your talent, plus Mr. Jung is a great coach too. I mean he’s one of the greatest, really.”

Hyunjin smiled, showing those fine teeth and the little creases around his eyes, and you felt the corners of your mouth curve. You bit down on the inside of your bottom lip to hide the yellow emotions from flashing through the cracks of your poorly structured facade.

It didn’t take a genius to know you were born to be a figure skater. You’d been told so since your first competition at the age of ten. The same competition you spent countless hours practicing for. Perfecting every move — from the little flick of your pinky to the big jump spin — until you couldn’t get it wrong, until it became as easy as walking and breathing.

That was when you secured your first gold medal, proudly displaying it around your neck and a rose bouquet in your trembling hands as the arena cheered for you. A big and genuine grin on your face, a contrast to the fabricated smile you wore out on the ice.

Praises came left and right after that. At home, in school or at the local grocery store. Strangers on the street would express how talented you were and that they were rooting for you, ending with an encouraging ‘hwaiting’. But hearing the praise from Hyunjin — not your crush Hyunjin or prettiest boy on campus Hyunjin but the figure skating prodigy — had your heart jumping, spinning and gliding around your chest, graciously avoiding bumping into your ribs and lungs. Positive remarks from inexperienced people did nothing for you except trigger a temporary rush of glee, but every once in a while when someone like Hyunjin or Mr. Jung passed by, saying something simple as ‘perfect landing’ or ‘good job’ made you feel like the highest in the room. It was unmatched.

“If you say so,” you lamely responded, ignoring the fireworks going off inside you.

“When’s the competition?”

“Hmm, December ninth, I think.”

“I’ll be there,” he suddenly announced.

“What?”

“Unless you don’t want me to?”

“No!”

The few visitors in the cafe and the waitress behind the counter looked over at your table, startled at your sudden outburst muting the low pop music and chit-chatting. A whispered apology and one, two and three whole bows were all it took for you to turn back to Hyunjin. The figure skating prodigy sat with a frown and a crease between his brows. The hand holding his fork shook slightly from being turned down only for him to smile at your next words.

“I would want that. I… I would-uh, like that. If you come to cheer me on.”

The fourth week passed since your practice together and out of those twenty-something days, eight of them were spent with Hyunjin, both on and off the rink. You weren’t doing anything special. Just texting and talking a lot more, eating lunch together and studying after school hours. You were still mousy around him and easily flustered but could you be at fault when he constantly looked his best.

The two green monsters in your apartment would beg to differ, claiming you replaced the two most important people in your life in the span of three hours for some guy — Keeho’s words, not yours — the same guy he was apparently betting his life savings on. Dasom wasn’t opposed to the idea of you befriending Hyunjin or possibly getting into a relationship with him. At the end of the day, it would always come down to your happiness that she’d place over some stupid bet. Although the money Keeho suggested would certainly bring her some joy, she’d even treat you to unlimited beef BBQ, at least for a day or two.

To celebrate the end of the first finals of the semester, Changbin, one of your seniors and Hyunjin’s friend, decided to throw a big Halloween party with everyone invited as long as they came dressed up and carried a bag of good vibes. Parties were a good way to let loose and have some fun between the crushing weight of schoolwork and figure skating. It was also kind of impossible to have a bad time with Keeho by your side. His Fridays were reserved for nights out, getting hammered at different clubs or at some house party. It didn’t matter if he had an essay assigned the following day or the opening shift, that man was leaving the house covered in glitter and with a good attitude.

That was how you found yourself at the entrance of a two-story-house, Keeho’s arms around your and Dasom’s waists and a huge grin on his face.

The party was huge and planned for weeks, months even, so when you tried canceling at the last minute, claiming you were tired from your five hour long exam, a bewildered Keeho spawned outside your house with red leather pants sticking to him like a second skin and a matching unbuttoned flannel showcasing his fit stomach. The pair of red tinted sunglasses perched on his nose and horns sticking out of his black hair added the missing details to his costume; a sexy devil.

His loud whines and stomping had Dasom peeking out of the room questioning why you were fighting instead of pre-gaming.

She was just the perfect amount of cute and sexy in her costume with a red skirt — which Grandma Hood would never allow her granddaughter out in — that stopped just above her black hose-clad thigh. The black leather corset bodice fit around her waist enough to accentuate her boobs, almost spilling out over the white shirt that left her neck and upper chest bare. A cloak a few shades darker than her hair was drawn over her head and she carried a tiny basket in her hands. Call you the Big Bad Wolf the way you were about to eat her up!

Just as you thought you got out of their clutches, they reappeared twenty minutes later with a fifty-slide-long PowerPoint on why you should come with them. Every tenth page read ‘CANCELING LAST MINUTE ISN’T COOL >:(’ and how could you possibly argue with that?

Thirty minutes before departure, Keeho was pushed out of your room as Dasom forced you into an outfit that left little to the imagination. A green heart shaped corset with a darker hue of green laced details going over the hem. It was tight but not uncomfortable and it made your body look ten times hotter than on a daily basis. Your buttocks were covered by a white satin skirt that wasn’t anything longer than Dasom’s. Golden laced-up heels adorned your bare legs and showed off your pretty manicured toes, they were painted white for reference. A plastic flower wreath was placed on your head with matching fairy wings coming out from behind your naked shoulders and a golden pendant dug into your cleavage while pearls hugged your neck and earlobes. Dasom really outdid herself with the makeup and applied some green eyeshadow to your eyelids and a dash of natural color to your lips.

You looked like a mischievous fairy and seeing the proud and satisfied smile on Dasom’s face, you knew it was exactly the look she was going for.

The thumping beat of loud pop music and drunken cheers came from inside the house and you felt the excitement buzzing in the tips of your fingers like static electricity. The more you thought about it, the happier you became about deciding to tag along. Several cars were parked outside and continued down the street. From the looks of it, you could only assume the whole population of Seoul was invited. Keeho led you through the door and you were immediately greeted by multiple unfamiliar faces.

“I didn’t know my best friend was an A-list celebrity,” you joked and bumped your hips against his.

“Mmm, well I mean that’s because you’re with that boytoy of yours every day–”

“He’s not my boytoy!”

All you managed to do before Dasom dragged you towards the kitchen — on the hunt for some free alcohol — was give a harsh pinch to the flesh on his waist. The redhead immediately poured some random liquor into empty shot glasses and you downed it on the count of three. She kept pouring more and more, and after your fourth shot you were steered towards the dance floor. It was really just the living room but with all the furniture pushed aside, creating a big space full of sweaty bodies swinging and shaking along to the music blaring from some expensive looking speakers. Somewhere in the crowd, you squished between your best friends, jokingly grinding against each other and singing out jumbled versions of all the songs playing.

“I don’t see him anywhere!” Dasom shouted in your ear suddenly, her breath a sweet mix of alcohol, chewing gum and her cherry perfume.

Still swaying to the beat, you spun to face her and clasped your hands around her neck. In return she placed her hands on your hips. You saw her more clearly now, her red lips in an exaggerated pout and nose scrunched up; she wasn’t drunk, but intoxicated enough to be quite sensitive. She’d laugh at the dumbest shit or cry over the smallest inconvenience.

“Who?!” You shouted back.

“Hongjoong!”

“The art boy?” Keeho butted in loudly behind you and earned himself two hasty nods from the pouty girl. “Let us have a night free from boys!”

She jammed a finger in Keeho’s direction. “You promised he’d be here!”

Ah, the masterplan of Yoon Keeho falling apart right in front of his nose. The sole reason Dasom decided to come with, besides the free booze and snacks, was because of the promise that the art majors would be there including a certain black and white haired boy with a singular painted pinky. To save himself from his own doing, Keeho guided an upset Dasom back to the kitchen claiming the art boy would be there and away from the ruckus because he was, quote unquote, slightly introverted and a loser. Knowing she was in safe hands you took the chance to break Keeho’s rule and whipped out your phone, sending a quick text to the person pinned on your messaging list.

You [10:09 PM] Halloween party, yes or no?

Hyunjin [10:10 PM] no i have early practice tmr and can’t risk a hangover

Hyunjin [10:10 PM] hbu?

You leaned against the wall of the stairs leading up to the second floor and bit your lip to suppress a smile. With nimble fingers, you tapped on the little camera icon and positioned the phone above your head, capturing your outfit and makeup-covered face. The reply was quick and a pink heart appeared on the corner of the photo followed by a rattling text bubble.

A low whistle grabbed your attention and your head twisted to the side to find Jungkook beside you, a red cup in his hand and white rabbit ears on his head. From the looks of it, his clothes were left on his bedroom floor. Black skin-fitted pants clung to his thick legs, showing every crack and crevice of his muscles, a cute bow tie sat snuggly around his neck and a pair of white cuffs around his wrists. The best part of his ‘costume’, which you were personally having a hard time tearing your eyes from, was the eight pack. Impressive, even you had to admit.

Jungkook drank you in. Eyes shamelessly going over your face, chest, side of your ass and legs. You didn’t shy away from his gaze nor did you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t like you to marvel under the watchful eyes of men, to feel confidence as their tongues wetted their lips and hid smirks behind plastic cups. Any other day you’d tip your imaginary hat and run with your tail tucked firmly between your legs. Usually all it took was for Hyunjin to glance in your direction and you’d turn into a puddle, but not tonight.

With too much liquor in your gut and an outfit that showcased more skin than you’d ever dared to do before, you allowed yourself to play the part of someone else. Someone with a little more spunk but the perfect amount of teasing to get what they wanted — an attitude you only had around your friends and another not-so-friendly figure — so when the male equivalent of a sexbomb waltzed in and stared you down, you felt nothing but pride and confidence.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you bit back and feigned annoyance with a roll of your eyes. The pet name was secretly growing on you, but you’d rather lick someone’s sweaty armpit than admit that.

“Why? Is it reserved for anyone?”

“I’m not a table at a restaurant waiting to be snatched.”

He smirked at your snippy remark and sipped his drink. “Who knew Mingi’s girl could be so feisty.”

“I’m not his girl.” Your tongue quickly kissed the roof of your mouth at the mention of a certain cookie-and-cream-haired guy, your previous acting skills coming to bite you in the ass. Now you were really starting to get annoyed.

“So you’re up for grabs?”

You couldn’t decide whether to play it off with another flirty remark or show him the middle finger, and you didn’t get the chance to as a gruff voice you’d recognize anywhere, beat you to it.

“Quit being an ass, JK.”

Mingi leaned against the wall behind you with his arms crossed over his chest and staring down at the horny excuse of a man.

Looking over your shoulder you quickly took him in and realized he too was dressed in leather. The brown pants, long coat and crop top were all made out of the same material. His top was short enough to reveal a sliver of his tanned skin and the little happy trail was teasingly continuing down his pants. If it weren’t for the cowboy hat hiding tufts of his dyed strands you’d never guess his costume, maybe even go the extra length of calling him a chocolate flavored condom just to mess with him.

Jokes aside, Mingi looked good. Body, hair, face, everything. You suddenly got the urge to snatch his hat and prance around with it on your head. What’s that saying? Steal a hat, ride the cowbo–

Maybe Keeho was right. You should’ve kept the night boy- and alcohol free.

Mingi met your round eyes and restrained himself from letting them wander down your figure and drinking you in like an ice cold glass of water on a hot summer day. He had seen you dressed in various figure skating costumes, each brighter and more revealing than the next one, but this was different! That itty-bitty skirt and skin-tight corset did a number on him and he nearly lost his footing as he saw you from across the room. The image of you below him, eyes dilated and chest heaving, as his hands worshiped your body. Working their way up from your thighs — fingers wrapping around the plush flesh and squeezing teasingly every now and then, evoking whines from your lips and Mingi knew they’d be soft, so so soft and perfect for his calloused hands — and continuing to your tits, his mouth salivating as one of Pavlov’s dogs before dinner, wanting nothing more than to coat them with multiple layers of–

Mingi stopped the train of horny thoughts before he could pop a very visible boner in front of everyone. It was hard, but not as hard as he’d be if he kept thinking. As he was getting ready for the party Mingi didn’t want to entertain the thought of you possibly being there — which he realized was stupid because, of course Keeho would drag you to the party of the year — let alone interact with you looking like that and risk losing his cool. That changed when a familiar pair of bunny ears came into view and his legs moved on their own, and next thing Mingi knew he was right behind you, glaring daggers at his teammate, who more than likely shared the same thoughts as Mingi, if not worse. And logically speaking, Mingi had no right to be worked up at Jungkook’s antics. On the other hand, logic was not his friend as of lately so in the five second long journey — from the door to your spot — he vowed to let go of any rational thoughts and just let his body do what felt right.

Mingi parted his lips but the words died in his throat as your savior in the form of a giggly Dasom shouted your name from across the house, a red tint over her cheeks and fingers intertwined with Keeho’s, the other holding an empty bottle of soju. You could just make out the words ‘spin’ and ‘bottle’ and it was enough for you to bolt. Who knew a bunch of young adults would gather in a ring and spin a bottle to determine their make-out partner? You were certain you’d left these antics back in high school but apparently not.

Everyone took their place on the carpeted floor and you were seated between Yeonjun and Soobin with Dasom somewhere on your right. Looking around the quite big circle, you noticed a few familiar faces; Choi San — while Jungkook was just a guy looking to be laid every other day San purposely seeked out to hurt others with the sex, promising them a relationship only to hook up with someone else the next day right in their face — his situationship, the new addition to town; Park Seonghwa and the kind dance freak Choi Yeonjun. Jungkook and Mingi joined the circle shortly after you, just in time as Keeho began explaining the rules, taking on the role of a natural leader despite balancing on the thin line of tipsy and drunk.

1. Wait your turn.

2. Spin the bottle.

3. Kiss whoever the bottle lands on with as much or little tongue as you want.

To break the non-existent tension, Keeho took it upon himself to set the mood. He spun the bottle and everyone watched in anticipation as it landed on a girl with green spray painted pigtails, red lipstick smudged from one cheek to the other and a skimpy purple suit showing her tanned skin. Lips formed in a smirk, he grabbed the sides of her head and drew her in a messy kiss with a lot of tongue and spit and everything. Despite it looking…nasty, he set the bar pretty high and no doubt in mind that others would try to be as foul, if not more.

A guy in a Scooby Doo costume kissed Dasom timidly on her cheek and a girl looking like Batman made out with another girl dressed as the hot version of a minion. Three bottle spins later and it was finally your turn. As you twirled the empty glass bottle everyone watched with curious eyes to see where it would land. You didn’t really care that much about who’d be on the receiving end–

Until it landed between Dick and Asshole, San and Mingi.

Your tongue darted out and wet your lips. Gazing from Mingi to San and back to Mingi, you realized they were both so very hot. San with his raven hair slicked back, left forehead exposed except for the handful of strands falling over and a red-blackish eyeshadow around his sharp foxy eyes. His lips were red and smudged whether from kissing or on purpose. To your surprise, he was dressed in a black tuxedo and equally dark slacks, outdoing everyone and their silly costumes. You caught the burgundy lipstick adorning his neck like an expensive necklace.

Averting your attention to Mingi, who held a few inches over San you felt a distinct pulse between your legs. His eyes were already on you, hard and dark, their usual gleam of teasing gone somewhere deep within.

“What’s it gonna be darling? Me? Mingi? Both?” San’s lips curled up, a smirk playing over his mouth.

Your face grew warmer, the result of alcohol mixed with their heated gazes sizing you up and ready to tear you apart. You didn’t want to choose yet you didn’t want to kiss them both. Even with your hazy mind, you knew your fragile heart couldn’t take it.

“Sannhie and Minji should kiss-uh!”

There wasn’t a time in your life where you thought the Little Red Riding Hood would come to your rescue, but oh boy, were you happy it happened.

Dasom 2 - Boys 0

The attention was quickly thrown back to the guys. San leaned into Mingi, tilted his head sideways, and innocently blinked up at him with a shiteating grin on those sinful lips of his. The taller one barely gave San as much as a side glance before bumping against him with his shoulder. Don’t you dare, the gesture said.

As the next person spun the bottle Mingi huffed to himself. You were an undeniably attractive girl and although he wouldn’t mind you deliberately puckering your lips at him, he couldn’t stand you not choosing him over the walking STD on his left.

The game continued and thus far you received a peck on the cheek from a ballerina, kissed a girl dressed as a bloodied cheerleader and then a guy in a skeleton costume. Unlike you, Keeho had his throat down almost everyone’s throat. Halfway through the game people speculated if he had a magnet connected to the bottle or not, given the way the tip always found him.

“JK, it’s your turn!” Keeho pointed at the bunny-clad man and wiggled his brows.

You leaned your head against the boy next to you — he introduced himself as Jimin — slightly growing bored of the game. It wasn’t like you got any action that had you buzzing with excitement or kept your expectations high.

No, no, you were done with the game and decided to take a lap around the house before joining the crowd of dancing people — who seemed to be enjoying themselves a whole lot more than you did — after the last spin. The drunken cheers erupting from the circle had you straightening, curious to see who was the lucky — or perhaps unlucky — one, only to realize the last spin was pointed at you.

Three seconds. Jungkook granted you all three seconds to collect your thoughts before scooting closer and grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger. He offered you a wink that sent goosebumps up your arms, despite the alcohol keeping you warm, and pulled you towards him. Steadying yourself with one hand on the carpeted floor and the other having a deadly grip on his thick thigh, digging your nails into his leather pants. Your lips met and his were surprisingly soft, with a faint taste of cherry chapstick. Jungkook traced the outline of your upper lip and you opened your mouth to him, a moan nearly slipping out as he slid his tongue inside and expertly explored his way to the back of your throat. That’s how it felt at least. Jungkook held the reins of the kiss and all you had to do was follow his lead and not fall behind. The lack of air eventually broke you up and the sight of his red and swollen lips made the familiar heat throb in your panties again.

“I need a drink,” you declared to no one in particular.

Feeling parched and throat itchy from the tongue invading your space, you jumped towards the kitchen. The hoots and whistles were quickly replaced by pouts and calls for your name to come back, it was all swallowed by the loud music, and you unintentionally ignored them. The mass of people from when you last entered the kitchen had dispersed all throughout the house except for the three girls mingling around the kitchen island, pouring multiple flasks of liquor into Christmas-themed mugs. You shivered at the unimaginable taste and decided to pop a soju bottle instead.

With the chairs gone, presumably hidden by Changbin for obvious reasons, you parked your butt on the cold marble counter and watched over the sea of people dancing in the living room. You slowly swayed to the beat of the music and hummed the lyrics, a few weird moves with your arms but you didn’t care. You were having fun on your own! In fact you were having so much fun that you didn’t notice the figure leaning against the counter connected to yours, their elbows propped up on each side and their hands hanging by default.

“What are we looking at?”

Mingi’s low tone snatched you back to reality and your wiggling came to a stop. Furrowing your brows as you tried to pinpoint the exact moment he entered the kitchen, how long he’d been there for and where his hat had gone. Your focus was then averted to his face. This was the only time you’d seen him up close without hatred clouding your eyes.

You wanted to touch the outline of his features, to feel the slight slope of his nose and to slide down its pointy tip until his naturally plumb and puckered lips kissed your fingers, which would later grace his relaxed jaw. It was a shame he was a douchebag, he’d make a really good boyfriend, lookwise, you thought.

“You…”

The words to your drunken ears were loud and clear but actually came out all jumbled up.

“Hm?”

Mingi turned to you and expected a scowl born from disgust or a snarky reply that would rattle his bones. Not in a million years did he picture you looking at him with blown eyes and lips parted as if at a loss for words for witnessing something so ethereal one could barely react.

“You’re so pretty,” you repeated, still looking down at him, and gently cupped the side of his face.

A battle between self-control and impulse took place somewhere in that disorganized brain of yours, and you managed to hold back from caressing the lines of his countenance. The breath hitched in his throat as his Adam’s apple thickly moved up and down at the gentle feel of your skin against his. Mingi was already caught off guard by your compliment, and your touch literally and figuratively KO’d him like he’d seen in multiple boxing matches online. Worry poked at his core and ventured up into all the crevices and dark corners of his mind.

Did something happen in the five minutes you were alone? Did you hit your head? Were you struck with alcohol poisoning in its early stages?

“What? Have nothing to say now, Mingi-ya?”

His initial worry turned to relief as you pulled back, your lips curving upward and eyes shining with mischief. You didn’t suffer a concussion or life threatening poisoning. You were just drunk. Mingi raised an eyebrow at your flirtiness and his mouth turned into a lopsided smirk, showing a row of his white teeth. Unlike you, Mingi only had two bottles of beer in his system. One at Yunho’s place right before they were to head over and the second during the third round of spin the bottle. It wasn’t even nearly enough to make him tipsy and while he originally entered the kitchen to grab another one, he realized it would be better not to, especially with you already out of it and no babysitter in sight.

“I have plenty to say, princess, just don’t think you’re ready for it.”

You leaned closer to him, the flesh of your boobs nearly spilling over the corset pushed in his face and while his eyes were drawn to them like moths to a flame, Mingi refused to give in just as you refused to stare at his exposed and well-formed abdomen, courtesy of his short leather vest.

“And what if I am?”

Mingi pushed away from the counter and placed his hands on the vacant surface beside your thighs, successfully caging you in. The switch in positions and height had you crossing your legs, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Mingi. He breathed out a short chuckle and tilted his head down, his tongue darting over his bottom lip. You were already fun to tease sober, but this — drunk-you — was something else, especially with the lack of fabric around your body.

“Then I’d tell you how good you look tonight.”

You arched your back, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked through your lashes and gripped the edge of the counter.

“Just tonight?”

“No, not just tonight but I’d be lying to say you didn’t look,” he paused and searched for the right words, “more captivating like this.”

“Like what?” You challenged him and inched forward, feeling his mint breath fan your face.

“Pretty, needy and really fucking sweet.”

“Maybe if you complimented me more often then I would be pretty, needy and sweet all the time.”

Mingi hummed despite knowing that wasn’t the solution to your hissy attitude, “Maybe I should have or maybe…” He tested the waters by leaning in closer, lips just an inch from grazing your ear, and when you didn’t retract Mingi took it as his sign to whisper, “You shouldn’t always act so bra–”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my least favorite hockey player!” A thick, accented voice cut through the pleasant atmosphere.

Mingi sighed at the intruder and stepped back, revealing your unintentionally hidden body, one hand still on the counter while the other sassily snapped to his hip. Of course he of all people would be at the party tonight, his friend was the host after all. Mingi hadn’t seen the winger since that day outside the public library and he wished to keep it that way, unfortunately he seemed to attract trouble wherever he went. Even a blonde man dressed in a police uniform.

A black vest with a hundred pockets tightly stuck to Chan’s chest while the shirt underneath was cuffed up to his elbows, showing off his pretty veins and mass of muscle. The kitchen lights reflected against a pair of silver handcuffs attached to his belt loop, identical to the other pair wrapped around his right wrist. You had never seen a hotter officer prior and for a split second you reevaluated your choice of career path. Letting your eyes linger a tad bit longer on his face (big nose, big lips, you wondered if anything else was big too), you realized he looked quite familiar.

“Yeah, Chan, don’t go creaming your pants.”

“Impossible with the little pretty thing beside you. Go ahead, tell me your name, darling.”

Chan’s eyes ghosted over you briefly, not enough to completely take you in but just on the brink of feeling seen and, for the first time since you stepped foot in the huge house with a grand chandelier in the hallway and a dining table big enough for three branches of your family tree, you felt weird. Not because he said something a couple guys already hadn’t — you knew you were pretty, hell, you were hot — but because of how he said it. There was no sincerity or truth behind his words and his eyes barely budged, just briefly flickering over to you from the giant on your right. The tension in the kitchen told you they weren’t fond of each other, less so than you were of Mingi, and it doubled your discomfort.

You turned your gaze down — to the green hem pinched between your thumb and pointer finger and it did nothing to soothe the ill feeling in your tummy — and missed the murderous look from the cowboy beside you. His previously playful eyes turned dark and sharp enough to pierce Chan’s brain, his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth nearly cracked from the muscles flexing the bone and his lips were pressed into a thin line. Mingi felt himself begin to quiver as the rage shot through his veins faster than any alcohol or adrenaline ever did, and if it weren’t for you sitting right there it would take him less than a second to make the blonde midget repeatedly kiss his fists.

The upcoming game lingered in the back of Mingi’s mind, working as a reminder as to what Chan was up to. He knew it was all part of his plan to rile him up, slither under his skin and poke the sleeping bear just enough to get a reaction out of Mingi. Something that would make him lose his cool before their big game or mess up his focus, maybe even have to sit it out, not that his coach would ever risk doing that.

Then he also remembered that while Chan both liked boys and girls, he did have a boyfriend — the last time Mingi checked — so he knew the winger was just chatting shit and wasn’t actually interested in you, but it still didn’t sit right. Mingi already didn’t like you interacting with Jungkook or almost swapping spit with San, two guys he had no actual issues with, so imagine how livid he was now. It was disgusting and rude, and judging from the way you fell silent Mingi interpreted it as you becoming uncomfortable. It was a thing not even Jungkook nor San managed to do, and Mingi would be damned if he let anyone speak to you like that.

“Watch your mouth–”

Having heard enough and not wanting to be a witness to a brawl waiting to happen, you jumped off the counter and disappeared into the mass of people. You weren’t in the mood to party anymore and it was already well past midnight, a good enough excuse to either drag Keeho or Dasom with you home. Back in the kitchen, Mingi towered over Chan and used all his willpower not to grab the shorter’s collar and push him up against the wall.

“Aren’t you gonna get your girl?”

The taller of the two chuckled dryly.

“I am, but first a word of advice? If you know what’s good for you, don’t ever — and I mean, fucking ever — look in her direction again. Because if I ever catch you looking at her again,” Mingi lowered his tone so no prying ears would hear his next words except for Chan and growled out, “I’ll personally use your fucking skates to cut your fucking eyes out.”

Chan stepped back, arms crossed over his broad chest and head facing the ceiling. “You don’t scare me, Song.” But the slight tremor in his raspy voice told Mingi everything he needed to know.

“Maybe I should.”

On his way out, Mingi purposely shoulder-checked Chan and snickered as he staggered backwards. They exchanged final stares and Mingi cracked a cocky smirk, imagining a vivid picture of Chan laying on the ice with a freshly broken nose and blood staining his ugly jersey.

Yeah, Mingi was definitely going to beat his ass, an unbalanced scoreboard and Chan’s blemishes were his future witnesses.

Finding you was easier said than done. Who knew a human sized fairy could vanish from the face of earth in the three minutes he was busy giving threats left and right. Certainly not Mingi. He searched every room, every space he thought you could fit in, he even went as far as to check the master bedroom and bathroom upstairs, ignoring the poorly written note taped on the doors telling guests to fuck off, and then he rummaged through the big walk-in closet, but alas, you weren’t there either.

Leaving the bedroom of Changbin’s parents unscattered he stumbled back down the stairs and into the living room, which was painfully silent as red and blue lights flashed through the front windows. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was happening. Knowing everyone inside was of age, Mingi wasn’t worried about any consequences but he also had no time to sit around and wait for the party to be shut down and to lamely shimmy out the front door with everyone else. Turning a random corner, planning his big escape, something — or rather someone — rammed into him. Out of instinct his hand gripped whatever body part was in reach and kept them from falling on their ass. Looking down he was met with you, bottom lip pulled between your teeth and eyes locked on the floor.

“You good there, princess?”

You nodded and mumbled under your breath.

“Mmm, what was that?” Mingi slightly lowered his head to hear you better.

“My drink.”

And rightfully an empty glass bottle lay beside your feet — not an ounce of alcohol inside, though — and thinking about it, you looked more out of it than the last time he saw you. Mingi placed his free hand on your shoulder and tentatively squeezed it, catching your attention again.

“You good to go?”

“Haf to find Dee and Kyo.”

“They were looking for you but I told them to go and I’d bring you home.” The lie slipped out smoother than butter spread out on toast.

“They… left?”

Your voice faded into a quiet whimper. Lips wobbling and eyes glazed with unshed tears threatening to spill any minute now. The beautiful flower tiara slipped to the right side of your head and hung on for dear life. You looked like a kicked puppy on the verge of a mental breakdown.

“Hey, no, no, no, they didn’t leave you,” Mingi hushed gently. “They went to… your friend, the redhead, she forgot her phone in the bathroom so I told her I’d take care of you… yeah.”

“Dee…”

“Yeah, Dee. C’mon now we have to go through the backdoor.”

With hands respectfully resting on your shoulders, Mingi guided you outside.

A few blocks away, he noticed goosebumps littering your skin. It was pretty late, one or two in the morning, and the temperature had dropped rapidly since you were last out. A gush of air kissed your exposed body and sent another shiver down your spine. Mingi draped his jacket over you, it wasn’t much thicker but it would do the trick until he got you home. Sensing you were about to protest, he maneuvered your arms through the sleeves and zipped it up to your chin. The gesture warmed you more than the leather fabric and you nearly melted against his touch.

You didn’t know if you were touch starved or just too hammered that even Mingi’s kindness sent your stomach on a confused rollercoaster. He wasn’t faring any better. Mingi was so sure you couldn't get any hotter after tonight, but then he just had to offer you his jacket and witness the material swallow you whole, his heart leaping in his chest at your sweater paws.

He cleared his throat. “You’ll get sick and I said I’d take care of you.”

“You’re going to be sch-ick too.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head ‘bout that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but stopped as a sneeze rippled through the empty street. Mingi raised his brow as if to say, I told you so. It took everything in him not to slide his thumb over your little pout or smooth out the crease between your furrowed brows so he settled on clenching his hands into fists and walk as close to you as possible without grazing fingers.

The moonlight cast a silvery glow over you and something in his gut fell. He felt sick, but good at the same time. His insides were burning yet, his skin was cold to the touch. The urge to drape an arm over your shoulders, push your body flushed to his side and provide you with a warmth his jacket never could — a warmth of security and care — was becoming overwhelming and he awkwardly coughed.

“Let’s get you home princess.”

“‘M not your princess.”

“You’re not my princess yet.”

A loud gasp followed by a slap to his bicep had him suppressing a chuckle. Even when drunk you were so fun to tease. The walk to your apartment — or wherever he was taking you — was relatively quiet and calm. Not many words were exchanged between you which was as unusual as you being together without glaring holes into each other’s heads. Eventually the comfortable silence was broken by his name falling from your lips.

“Are you and Chan not friends now?”

The real question hid in plain sight and Mingi didn’t have to read between the lines to understand what you were asking.

“Nah, Chan and I have never been friends.”

“Like us?”

“Princess, if we never were friends I wouldn’t have had so much fun with you tonight.”

“You had fun with me?”

Mingi laughed at that. You really were something different while drunk. “Of course! You’re quite entertaining when you aren’t cranky.”

You didn’t say anything at first and glancing at you, Mingi panicked again. Your shoulders shook and for a second he thought you were crying. He mentally cursed himself for forgetting about you being a sensitive-drunk and before he could shoot out a half-assed explanation to his statement, a laugh bubbled out of you, and Mingi froze. It was the first time he made you laugh. A firework of butterflies exploded in him and suddenly he craved to hear you again, to find the yellow button with the word ‘laugh’ scribbled over and just press it until it went out of function. Call him dramatic, but Mingi was used to seeing you bare your teeth and not giggle like a schoolgirl.

You felt lightheaded and dizzy at his confession, chalking it up as a compliment, and decided to keep the conversation going because that’s what friends do. “I’m going to the preliminaries.”

You swerved into a whole other conversation topic and seeing the gleeful grin on your face, Mingi didn’t have the heart to tease you for wanting to talk to him. Plus it was also the first time you’d ever told him anything about yourself and he’d be damned to ruin the moment.

“Ah, really? For the Spring Competition, right?”

You hummed enthusiastically and went on rambling about it. Starting from the endless practices to the big day, how you were nervous but also excited. You even voiced how annoyed you were with your coach for giving you such difficult choreography, but purposely decided not to mention the help you got from a certain raven haired boy — a boy that made your heart beat faster and cheeks hotter — leaving him completely out of the conversation and whether it was because you simply forgot or was distracted by someone else wasn’t important right now, not when Mingi’s smile shone brighter than all the stars combined.

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter of factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come, princess?”

“You’ll be there?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

Nothing much was said after that and it wasn’t until you reached the door of your apartment complex that the silence was broken.

“Thank yu-h for walkin’ me home, Mingki-ya.”

The nickname completely went over his head, too distracted by your hand on his arm. The touch of your skin on his sent jolts of electricity through him and Mingi never wanted you to let go.

“Need help up the stairs?”

“No, but maybe with something else.”

You shuffled closer to him and balanced on your tippy toes, a small but very genuine smile mirroring the one on Mingi’s face. Your sweet perfume wafted with the cool breeze and he subconsciously leaned forward as if to chase after it, his hands finding solace on your waist telling himself it was just to steady you again.

“I think…” you whispered, “you owe me a kiss.”

You honestly didn’t know where the confidence came from or what possessed you to say such a thing, but the words were already out. Goosebumps littered Mingi’s skin and not because of his lack of clothes or the chilly temperature. He wished nothing more than to kiss you breathless, have you writhing beneath him and whisper his name like a mantra. Leaning closer and closer to you, his head slightly turned downward as you pushed up on your tiptoes and one hand came up to cup your cheek.

“Please,” you whispered.

The slur in your words brought him back to reality and he abruptly pulled back. However much Mingi wanted to press his lips against yours, he also didn’t want it to happen under these circumstances. Not when you were drunk and probably had no idea who you were talking to or what you were demanding of him. Mingi was better than that.

“What’s wrong?” You stared up at him, your eyes confused and worried.

“It’s late, princess.” Was all he said and let go of your waist, proceeding to open the door for you. “It’s time to head inside.”

He forced out a tight-lipped smile that showed his pretty dimples, but his eyes didn’t crinkle. Albeit your mind being fuzzy you could still notice the sudden drop in the atmosphere and it was enough to get you slightly sobered up, at least to understand what was happening.

You blinked, only then really realizing how close you were standing to each other, breaths mingling and chests rising in sync. Hastily, you turned on your heel, no goodbyes or second glances to be exchanged, and bolted up the stairs with a cloud of shame over your head and wobbly legs that caved the moment you stepped inside the safety of your apartment. Shame washed over you like a tidal wave and the funny feeling in your stomach wasn’t helping. The horrible taste of alcohol and acid bubbled up your throat and on your run to the bathroom you fought back a gag of the pre-digested food that threatened to reappear. Drunk-Dasom would have your head on a stick if you got vomit all over the floor. The green–ish puke was flushed down the drain, but the memory of your failed attempt at a kiss followed you like a shadow on a sunny day. You could only hope Mingi was too out of it to even remember ever walking you home.

The night of the Halloween party ended rather quickly and you could only remember bits and pieces of it, but most of the embarrassing memories stuck. You physically jolted every time you thought about it, which wasn’t that often considering there was only a few more days until the preliminaries and your focus were mainly set on your studies and perfecting the choreography, but when it did happen you were ready to dig a six-foot-deep hole in the ground. For once, you felt lucky not to stumble upon Mingi on campus or in the hallway as he too was occupied with practices for his game against the Red Tigers. So no, you weren’t intentionally avoiding him, although it played a big part in your favor as you were not mentally ready to face him.

On the days you had nothing to do, you couldn’t help but replay the antagonizing events and curse your-drunk-self for having a loose lipped mouth. There was something about alcohol that made you into a completely different girl with a bold and initiative personality. To make things worse, you just had to latch onto the only guy whose two-hundred-and-six bones you couldn’t stand. You remembered being so relaxed around Mingi, so flirty and touchy as if he was a part of your clique. You remembered calling him a friend, subtly inviting him to the preliminaries and how your body responded to his teasing in a not-so-hostile way. Most important of all you couldn’t get his words out of your head, how you were ‘pretty, needy and fucking sweet’.

The craziest part of it all was how you found Mingi hotter the longer the night went on. The moment you laid eyes on his stupid cowboy hat, something changed and you were drawn to him like a horny teenager who wanted nothing more than to get in his pants, but was too awkward to actually do anything about it. You knew you couldn’t look at him the same way ever again. You’d just imagine his prominent abs, flushed cheeks and plumb lips caught between his teeth, and start heating up.

No, the craziest part was you trying to kiss him.

Lips locking, tongues fighting, spit swapping, whatever! Drunk or not, you wanted and tried to kiss him and he pulled away.

The scene popped up in your head at the most random of times; while brushing your teeth, on your walk to college, during your bathroom- and lunch breaks, in between practices, whenever you saw his brown jacket neatly laid on your desk, the first few minutes of your morning and right before you fell asleep. Maybe the memory was the reason you couldn’t land any of your jumps.

“Fuck this shit,” you said under your breath and sat down on one of the benches beside the rink.

A break was long overdue and without Mr. Jung there to hover over your neck, you took five minutes to gather yourself.

You were thankful Hyunjin had classes until the afternoon, you weren’t sure you’d live to see another day if he were to lay his hand on your body, guiding you through the movement with a few helpful pointers — that you’d forget immediately — just like he’d done last week. You whined and buried your head in your hands. Your mind was a scrambled mess. Instead of focusing on the competition, you were stuck thinking about two boys, which brought you to your next issue.

Why were you so bothered by Mingi’s lack of reciprocation, it was just a stupid kiss?!

“Ah, I’m really losing my mind,” you said and collected your stuff.

There was no way you were getting anything done. With one hand on the handle, you opened the door while rummaging through your bag for your headphones, not paying attention to where you were walking and stumbled into the arms of the very person you couldn’t get out of your head.

“Falling for me, princess?” The teasing tilt to his voice hit your ear, raising goosebumps on the entirety of your body and nearly sending a shiver down your spine.

Curse the universe and its stupid ways of functioning.

You jumped from Mingi’s hold around you. He wore a simple brown knit zip-up sweater with a white t-shirt underneath, a pair of simple blue jeans and what seemed like a hundred chains and completed the look with some white sneakers. Not wanting to meet his eyes you stared at the spot between his brows before averting the gaze down to his lips, wetted by his freakishly attractive pink tongue and then back up again. The one-sided smirk told you that he totally caught you looking and you had half a mind not to ask what was so amusing.

Clearing your throat in hopes of calming the upturned beating of your heart, you replied, “I’d rather fall to my death than for you.”

“Right, yet here you were in my arms like a true damsel in distress.”

Taken back by his comment, you realized two things.

A) Mingi probably thought you couldn’t remember anything from Changbin’s party and used that to his advantage, and B) he was still the annoying Mingi from before, just more annoying and a bit (so much more) hotter.

Despite him being a prick, you weren’t against playing the role of having completely forgotten the events of the Halloween party.

“You’re right about one thing, Song. I’m a damsel, but the fuck am I ever in distress to be needing your help.”

“We’re back to last name basis, how sad.”

He placed a hand over his heart and jutted out his bottom lip, and Lord knows you wanted to trace it with your thumb, push into his mouth, and feel his tongue under your finger. A bit embarrassed at your sudden train of horniness, you stuffed your hand into the pocket of your hoodie and dug your fingers into your palm, embracing the slight sting that steered you clear of those thoughts. Mingi didn’t pay it any mind, stuck on the part where you didn’t say anything against your designated nickname. Not to be an arrogant asshole, but Mingi was a hundred percent sure you secretly liked it and it only made him more sure when you didn’t nip back at him for it.

“Is it something you want or are you going to let me pass through?”

Mingi crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door opening. “Quick to run away now, aren’t we?”

“From you? Every day of the week.”

“Mmm, that’s funny seeing how we always end up together. Care to explain that, princess?”

That little shit. You’d wipe the smirk of his face if it wouldn’t be considered assault. “We wouldn’t have to be if you would stop following me around, stalker.”

“I’m not sure a stalker would get you home safely.”

Either he was playing with you like usual or testing you to see if you really had no memory of that night after all. You shifted your focus from his left eye to his right and back to the left, searching for anything that would help you uncover his motive.

“Yeah, you have to find out where I live somehow don’t you?”

“Well, it’s not like we both use the rink regularly or go to the same college or live in the same city. Trust me when I say if I wanted to know where you live I’d be way sneakier, so I don’t know princess, your accusations are lacking.”

“You’re a real prick, you know that?”

“Totally haven’t heard that one before.” Pushing off the wall, he headed deeper into the hallway and when he didn’t hear the sound of the doors opening and closing, he turned around to see you still standing there. “What? Aren’t you leaving?”

You squinted and nipped mindlessly at the inside of your cheek. Truthfully, you didn’t know why you hadn’t already booked it for the bus stop and jumped on the next one coming, engine warm and wheels rolling.

“Or you wanna stay and see me practice. I can put on a show just for you.” Mingi grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and raised it enough to show what was hiding underneath, tongue sticking out and a flirty wink sent your way.

Fuming and at a loss for words, you exited the ice rink faster than a speeding bullet. You were hot and sweaty despite it being the last week of November and you knew it wasn’t because of your excessive training, but rather the irritating feeling crawling up your legs and pulse in your abdomen.

“...then she flipped her hair and finished with a model walk!”

Keeho poorly reenacted the interaction, hips swaying violently as he strutted through the kitchen with an attentive Dasom sitting on the seat opposite you, nibbling on some crackers. The boy was talking about the newest gossip at the school, something you couldn't care less about.

“I swear to God one day I’m going to kill him!” Your outburst startled Keeho and Dasom.

“Who, why and when are we going?”

“Song Mingi.”

“No, can do. Have you seen the muscles on that monstrosity?”

You glared at Keeho who looked away, finding the interior of your kitchen much more interesting. The soft voice of your best friend asking what happened caught your attention and you were quick to explain the reason behind your frustration.

“Say what you want, but if I was you I’d have gotten him in bed a long time ago.”

If only Keeho knew how badly your unintentional plan to do exactly that fired back, leaving you crying yourself to sleep. Not because it was Mingi, but because the combination of rejection and alcohol coursing through your veins made you a hundred times more emotional.

“You don’t even like him,” you cried out and slammed your palm on the table.

“No, but he’s incredibly hot and the sex would be a-ma-zing!”

“Dasom tell me you have something smart. He’s a lost cause.”

The offended ‘hey’ was ignored by both girls.

“I don’t think you’ll agree with me,” she started and tried hiding the smile growing on her face. “But technically you were in distress and Mingi was there to help, so you were kind of wrong there.”

Your rapid fingers that were rhythmically tapping the wooden surface froze at the new piece of information. That you didn’t know about.

“Do enlighten me, when was this?”

“At Changbin’s party, when he walked you home and gave you his jacket.” She popped another cracker and smiled.

You completely forgot about that – about the little chivalrous act of his. The second-hand embarrassment of your own stupidity hit you like a truck so hard, you slapped your hands over your eyes and harshly rubbed them. Great, first you humiliated yourself while drunk, and now you made a fool of yourself sober too.

“So we can’t kill him?” Keeho piped up.

Dasom threw her hands up, quick to not claim such a statement. “I didn’t say that, but it would be unjustified. Also he probably thought it was funny especially when he thinks you can’t remember anything.”

“Nothing about him is unjustified, trust me and, wow, cool to hear you find happiness in my agony!”

“Puh-lease it’s just Mingi. Not like you care about him, so tell me. How was practice with Hyunjin last week? You never give us the juicy details anymore.” Keeho leaned against the kitchen table, his chin resting in his palm and eyes batting excessively.

“That’s not true. I don’t tell you anything,” you jabbed a thumb in Dasom’s direction, “she knows everything.”

“Wha– How!? What!? And I’m supposed to call you my friends!”

“It was nothing anyway, Kyo. He just helped me with my number, nothing new I promise.”

He pointed at Dasom. “Spill.”

And then it was her turn to re-tell everything you told her a few days ago.

You were struggling with your choreography and no matter how much you practiced, nothing was working your way. As you were five seconds away from a mental breakdown, Hyunjin swooped in like a true knight in shining armor and saved the day. He encouraged you to explain the whole program from start to finish as if you were talking to a toddler even though he could probably master it in an hour. To your luck, it helped ease the tension in your shoulders and you even managed to do spins without falling on your ass, but your movements were still stiff and not as perfect as you’d need them to be if you wanted to win over the judges. Trying something else, Hyunjin told you to follow him. He somehow turned your mono focused choreography into a duet, hands holding onto you when deemed fit and guiding you until you were in sync, until two became one. One mind, one body, one soul.

“I’m calling it now, you’re a match made in heaven.”

“Yet you think I should fuck Mingi?”

“Yeah, but if you think about it, and I mean really think about it, guys automatically become ten times hotter when working out so I understand your frustration with Mingi, right? But what you have with Hyunjin is not just sexual frustration! He’s sweet, he’s kind and he’s perfect! So it wouldn’t be weird if you got it down with Mingi as long as you date Hyunjin in the end so I can win the money–”

“What she has with Mingi is so much more than just sexual frustration! There’s passion and chemistry, that doesn’t come out of the blue!” Dasom shot up from her seat and glared passionately at Keeho, as if reciting one of her many poems.

“Yeah, but would you rather be with a guy who respects you and treats you right or with someone who’s a douche all year round if we don’t count your birthday and Valentine’s day?”

The question was aimed at you, yet Dasom cut through like an unsupervised Kalashnikov rifle before you even managed to open your mouth.

“No one wants to be with a meanie, there’s no arguing about that, but Mingi doesn’t treat her like crap, be realistic Kyo. Yes, he just likes to rile her up and yes, he can be nice too, remember? He bought her coffee as an apology and got her home safe, twice!”

“Yeah, an apology that was long overdue if you ask me! Hyunjin hasn’t done anything to be apologizi–”

“Hyunjin is just a nice guy and that’s why you think she should settle for him, because the risk of getting hurt is really low if she sticks to the safe option but that is romanticism! Why should she settle for a passionless relationship?”

“And fighting and making up and fucking isn’t romanticism?! What is this, the foryou page of booktok promoting red flags as erotica?”

“Unlike some, I know basic decorum. I also know that chemistry wins over compatibility. So, Kyo, the real question is; how does defeat taste, seeing as you’ve already feasted on it without even knowing?”

They left no room for you to interrupt or stop their quarrel and by the time you successfully managed to get in a word they were both on their feet, noses almost touching. Keeho’s glare was sharp enough to cut through bread while Dasom wore a teasing smirk, giving her the appearance of a sly fox.

They reminded you an awfully lot of you and Mingi, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes at the thought. It amazed you how even with a lacking presence, he still managed to get on your nerves.

#[🐣] HONGJOONGSPOETRY #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez fanfic #song mingi #song mingi x reader #song mingi fanfic #hockey #figure skating #hockey au #figure skating au #rivals to lovers #kpop #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin x reader

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Adrift With You - A Frankie Morales Series - Chapter 19

Summary: Heading away on a work re-location, Frankie embarks on a flight, but unbeknownst to him, his life is about to change forever. For starters, he will need to fight for it; harder than he's ever fought for anything else before.

Marooned on an isolated island in the middle of the ocean, still recovering from an addiction, his chances of survival are bleak; but he’s not alone on the island, and soon he’s running towards a different kind of life - a life with fellow survivor, Jude, fighting right beside him every step of the way.

And if they can both survive the island together, they can survive anything, right?

Pairing: Frankie Morales x OFC Jude

Chapter word count: 7.3k

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: Frankie takes a brave step and Jude suspects Frankie is keeping something from her. Chapter contains smut.

Enjoy! 🖤

Chapter 18

Before the crash…

“Hola, hermanita. (Little sister) Hey. I need to talk to you. It's... important. Yeah, I'm okay. Well, kinda. I just... I just found out I'm pregnant… Ya sé, noticias grandes. (I know, big news) Yeah, I’m positive… It's positive! There are two lines, I’m staring right at it now…

"Shit, I don’t know what to do. Dios mío, no sé qué hacer. (God help me, I don’t know what to do) I just… Yeah. I know… I... I don't think now is the right time to tell him. Things have been so strained between us lately. I don’t even know if we… if we’re going to make it… No, I know it’s stupid, but I just feel… I’m losing him… No, I am. He-He’s not been the same since the overdose, and I-I don’t know if I can go through that again… I don’t think I could bring a baby into that situation either, right?

"I just don't know how he'll react. What if he doesn't want this? What if he leaves?... Maybe it would be too much for him, right? He needs to get better and a baby would just mess all that up!… I'm so scared, what do I do, hermanita?... Yeah, I know I have options, but, I can’t- that’s not… wait. Listen, I have to go. He's just got home. I'll call you later, okay? Kiss abuela for me...” (grandma)

Carla ends the call and quickly slips her phone into her pocket, standing up. She glances her weary and pallid reflection in the mirror and wipes under her mascara heavy eyes.

She can hear Frankie in the kitchen and pauses at the bathroom door, taking a deep breath in.

She can still smell it as she breathes, the harsh, sterile smell of hospital disinfectant. Can hear the steady beep of the heart monitor pulse in her ears, a rhythmic reminder of his fragile state.

She tries not to see it but it barges its way in, haunting her all over again.

Frankie lying unconscious, his face pale and gaunt, a stark contrast to the vibrant man she’d once known and fallen in love with. She reaches out, her fingers gently brushing against his hand, cold and unresponsive.

Tears well up in her eyes as she takes in the sight of him, hooked up to tubes and machines. It’s a scene she’d dreaded, one that she’d feared might become a reality ever since she’d learned about his struggle with addiction. But seeing it, the reality was more crushing than she could’ve imagined.

She’d been at work when she received the call from Will. The rush to the hospital, the panic, the fear - it all felt like a blur now.

But the image of him, lying motionless on that bed, was seared into her mind forever. Carla had thought they were making progress, that he was getting better. But the overdose had shattered that illusion, bringing her crashing back to the harsh reality of his addiction - he would never get better, not really. Sure, there would be bouts of time where he would be sober, but that fear of him relapsing would always be there. A shadow lingering behind her back waiting.

How could she bring a baby into that chaos? How could she raise a child when the father was fighting a battle that could end in a quick moment?

“Estoy en la cocina," (I’m in the kitchen) Frankie calls up, his voice carrying up the stairs.

She can feel the distance between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air like a dark cloud. The weight of her discovery presses down on her, but she pushes it aside, hiding the test and focusing on the moment at hand.

Whatever happens next, Carla’ll face it - she has to.

Present day…

He’s been standing there for what feels like hours, gathering the courage to move forward.

The air is thick with the scents of an early summer - saltwater from the nearby Gulf, blooming magnolias, and the faint tang of spiced seafood that consummates in the Floridian air - but to Frankie, it carries an undercurrent of fear and regret.

The small house, with its open windows, cracked awning and the heavy silence from inside, seems to pulse with a heartbeat that mirrors his own anxious rhythm.

His heart is racing and palms feel slick with sweat. The sun casts a warm glow over the neighbourhood, but Frankie only feels the cold bite of anxiety.

The island has stripped him to his core, forcing him to confront his darkest fears and deepest cravings. Yet the challenges of survival seem minor compared to the emotional ordeal he’s about to face.

The world around him seems to blur, the house and suburban street dissolving into a stark, unforgiving landscape. Finding himself back on the island, the relentless sun beating down on him, the smell of salt and decay in the air, he sees himself at his lowest, shaking and sweating as the need for cocaine claws voraciously at his mind.

The sunlight casts clear, sharp shadows that seem to dance and mock his hesitation. He takes a deep breath, feeling the warm air fill his cracked lungs, and forces his feet to move.

He climbs the tiny, singular step up to the door, a mountain that seems impossible to peak, yet fighting the battle against the urge to turn and run.

Frankie raises his hand to knock but freezes, his fist inches from the wood. He lowers his hand and stares at the swirling grain, feeling the crushing weight of his doubts. The sunlight seems to swamp closer, the whispers growing louder.

He closes his eyes, summoning the strength he’d found on the island, the resilience that had kept him alive. He drifts to Jude, her unwavering support, and the love they’d discovered amidst the chaos. He thinks of how she’ll take this news, her face twisting into bitter disappointment.

He thinks of the promise he’d made to be a better man. But not even Jude's strength could protect her from the island's cruel whims. He remembers the day she lost their baby, an event that shattered them both and still continues to do so in some twisted way, giving him a chance at parenthood when it was ripped from her. The grief and helplessness had been overwhelming, a pain deeper than any he’d ever known.

Frankie clenches his fists, digging his blunt nails into his palms until the sharp pain grounds him in the present. He can't afford to be weak, not now.

With a final, resolute breath, Frankie knocks on the door. The sound deafening on a quiet day. The seconds stretch into an eternity. Then, the door creaks open, fluttery eyelashes greet him and that familiar tinny jangle from her wrist fills his ears.

“Hey,” he all but croaks.

“Es bueno verte de nuevo." (It’s good to see you again.) Carla smiles thinly.

A small crook of his lips under the shadow of his cap convinces her of the same, as she steps aside, the scent of him flouts itself so uncouthly as he passes her.

Her expression is a mix of surprise and guarded hope, and despite the small amount of time that’s passed them - what’s in a year? - she looks worn and tired around her almond eyes that used to be buoyant and keep him afloat.

“We’ll need to be quiet, he’s sleeping,” she murmurs as Frankie follows her to the kitchen, pausing momentarily to glance upward at the stairs.

“You want some coffee?” She asks casually as he sets himself down at the table.

“Uh, yeah.” He says, as he spies piles of folded baby clothes in a basket on the floor by the dryer.

His fingers wrap around a warm cup of coffee and Carla sits across from him, her hands cradling her own mug, her eyes studying him with a mixture of curiosity and caution.

The silence between them is palpable, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the house settling. Frankie's gaze drifts to the ceiling, imagining the tiny form of his child asleep up there.

The thought sends a shiver down his spine, a potent mix of fear and anticipation as it bottoms out in his gut.

Frankie takes a tentative sip of his coffee, the bitter warmth grounding him momentarily as it scalds his lips. He glances at Carla, noticing the subtle changes in her face - the faint lines of worry and the traces of sleepless nights scattered purple and weary in her sockets.

He wants to ask her so many things, to understand what she’s gone through in his absence, but the words feel trapped in his throat, heavy and cumbersome to swallow down or bring up. He wants to ask her the whys and hows, but he knows it’s fruitless. The stark reality is here and he has to face it head on, whether he likes it or not.

"How’ve you been?" Carla finally breaks the silence, her voice gentle but probing.

Frankie hesitates, searching for an honest answer. "It's been... hard," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course it has, shit. Lo siento, that was stupid. I can't even imagine," she says, her eyes reflecting a deep empathy. (I’m sorry)

He looks down at his hands, the coffee cup trembling slightly in them. The ripples in the dark liquid remind him of the waves that had battered the island's shores, each one a reminder of nature's unyielding power and him being nothing but a slave to it.

The rhythmic crash of the waves echo in his mind. The sensation of being adrift, caught between the past and the present, consumes him for a few moments.

He sees Jude, her face etched with pain, as they bury their hopes and dreams in the sand. The ocean had seemed both a barrier and a saviour, holding them captive, yet offering a taunting promise of escape.

Frankie can feel the rough texture of the island's ground beneath the hardened-over skin on the balls of his feet, and smell the brine in the air. The tremor in his hands grows stronger, the coffee sloshing precariously close to the rim of the cup.

"Are you okay?" Carla’s voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts, pulling him back to the shores of the present.

She reaches out, placing her hand tentatively over his, steadying the trembling cup.

"I'm... I'm fine. How are you? I mean, how-”

She sighs and settles back into her chair, taking the once familiar and comforting touch with her. “I was planning on telling you, but… we ended, and then the plane and-”

“Yeah.” Frankie nods, averting his gaze.

“I just couldn’t believe it when Benny told me you called him. That you were alive.”

“I still can’t believe it myself.” He runs his hand around his neck, feeling the ribbing of the scars that mottle there. It’s all too real and visceral.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He closes his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids only intensifies the sensation.

He sees the plane crash in vivid detail - relives through the moment of impact, the chaos, the feeling of helplessness as he struggled for breath in the water.

“Can we talk about… the baby?” He says, hesitating.

Caral nods and begins to tell him everything. How it had been a week since she and Frankie had broken up, a painful but necessary decision given his ongoing struggles with addiction, and the fact he was adamant it was over, even if she would’ve fought for him.

She was pleased he was getting help and had Eddie to guide him, but he was still pulling away. She was trying to move on, to rebuild her life piece by piece without him, moving in with her sister across town.

A news alert had popped up on her screen on that fateful day: Plane Missing Over the Pacific. She’d skimmed the headline, feeling a pang of sadness for the people involved but not thinking much of it. Plane crashes were tragic, but they were also rare, distant events - stories that happened to other people.

She’d put her phone down and went about her day, trying to keep herself busy and weighing up her options about the pregnancy the more she discussed it with her sister. As much as she didn’t want to consider it, her mind swayed into confusing and guilt heavy thoughts of a possible termination.

It wasn't until late afternoon that her phone had rung. The caller ID showed it was Will, one of Frankie's closest friends, or at least before he’d pushed them all away. She’d hesitated for a moment before answering, a knot forming in her stomach. Perhaps he was calling because he’d heard about the split. But then as he spoke down the line, Carla’s world had stopped turning.

The kitchen seemed to spin around her, and she’d gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. She doesn't remember much after that. The hours and days, and soon months that followed Frankie’s disappearance were a blur of emotions - fear, hope, guilt, and overwhelming sorrow.

Each passing minute that Frankie was gone and wasn’t coming back, felt like an eternity. She’d thought about their last conversation, the pain and frustration that had driven them apart. She’d hoped that some time apart would help Frankie find his way back to sobriety - and to her - but the longer time wedged itself in, she feared that time had finally run out. The thought of him out there, somewhere, possibly hurt or indeed dead, was unbearable.

She hadn't told him about the pregnancy, unsure if it was the right thing to do, but then her mind had been made up after the funeral - she’d raise their son alone, a last connection to Frankie and allow him to live on, for everyone that would miss him.

His addiction had always been a constant shadow over their relationship, and Frankie feels the grip of culpability as he thinks about the pain he’s caused her as she speaks. She’d stood by him, supporting him even when things seemed hopeless.

Carla had loved him deeply, but his demons had often gotten in the way. He realises how much she’s endured, and it makes him admire her even more. She’s strong, resilient, and compassionate - qualities that had drawn him to her sparkle in the first place.

"Carla. I'm so sorry for everything," Frankie says, his voice trembling. "I-I know I messed up before, but I wanna make things right.”

Carla’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "Francisco,” she only uses his full name when she’s serious, he notes, “the fact that you're here, willing to try, means more than you know. I know you’ve been through a lot, and I know this has come as a shock. No es así como quería que esto fuera. But we'll take it one step at a time. He’s your son, and he deserves to know his father." (It’s not how I wanted this to go)

Frankie nods, feeling a tendril of hope unfurl from a tight bud somewhere inside of him.

“But…” Carla begins, “you have to stay clean. That’s the condition. You can spend as much time with him as you want, I won’t get in the way of that. But if you can’t… then you won’t be allowed to-”

“I know.” Frankie swallows thickly and holds her eyes. “I won’t let him down.”

And he believes those words as they crawl out from under his tongue. He wants to believe them so badly. The feeling of worry is an opaque heavy fog, seeping into every corner of his consciousness. It’s a weight pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.

Carla nods, picking up her mug. His thoughts drift, unfocused and chaotic. Images of the past few months playing out in a disjointed sequence - Jude’s face etched with concern, the eerie quiet of the island at night, the baby boy he has yet to meet.

“Can I see him?” The words feel alien as they pour out of his mouth.

“Are you ready for that?” Carla asks, scrutinising him carefully.

“Honestly, no.” Frankie takes off his cap and runs his hand through his mussed curls.

She remembers the feel of them, sliding through her own digits once upon a time.

“I’m fuckin’ terrified.” He admits timidly as he puts his trusty cap back on his head. “I just... I want to be a good father," he confesses, his voice tinged with bubbling emotion.

“You're not alone in this, Frankie," she says, firmly.

"Gracias," he murmurs sincerely. "For giving me a chance. I know I don’t deserve it, especially from you.”

"I loved you Frankie, it is what is, I guess."

She wipes her eyes and looks away momentarily. They sit in silence, the weight of their conversation hanging between them until she looks at him again and smiles softly.

“Come on.” Carla sways as she stands.

Frankie’s gaze falls upon the crib, where his baby boy lays asleep, his tiny chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath.

Frankie's breath catches in his throat, and he feels a rush of emotions he can't quite name. The baby is perfect. Fine wisps of dark hair crowns his head, and his chubby cheeks are flushed with the warmth of sleep. Frankie approaches the crib hesitantly, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

“It’s okay,” Carla whispers, encouraging him. “He’ll sleep through anything.”

He leans over the crib, watching his son with wide, tear-filled eyes. The baby's tiny hands are curled into soft fists, and his mouth moves slightly as he dreams.

Frankie marvels at the delicate features, the smallness and fragility of him. He feels an almost physical ache in his chest, a swell of something so intense it’s almost painful and he struggles to breathe through it.

The enormity of it all hits him - he’s a father. He has a son. This little boy is a part of him, a piece of his heart made flesh. Frankie feels a surge of pride, but it’s quickly followed by a salty tasting wave of crushing fear.

“How do I do this?” He murmurs.

Carla steps beside him. “You be there.” She says as if it's simple, and of course it is. Such a simple, yet daunting thing.

Frankie’s brows furrow with uncertainty. He wants to understand, to grasp the simplicity she speaks of, yet it feels elusive, intangible.

"Be there." He repeats, exhaling slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

The concept seems deceptively straightforward yet filled with profound implications. The ease of being present is daunting, a responsibility he isn't sure he’s fully prepared for. Thoughts race through his mind, a jumble of plans and uncertainties.

Carla squeezes his shoulder gently, her touch grounding him in the moment.

He reaches out, gently brushing his fingertips against the baby's soft hand. The warmth of the sensation sends a shiver through him, and he swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. It’s all too much.

“What’s his name?” Frankie asks softly.

The baby stirs slightly, his tiny hand curling around Frankie's finger in his sleep. He lets out a shaky breath, his legs feeling like they might collapse under him at any moment.

“Frankie.” Carla replies.

The absence of him is growing, mutating, and it’s been so hard to get through the days without him.

Jude can’t sleep; tossing and lying awake for hours staring up at the ceiling and at the empty spot in her bed where Frankie ought to be; his long limbs wrapping around her like a spider devouring its prey.

The heavy bouts of tiredness have seemed to appear out of nowhere over the passing days, evidently the effects of arduous life on the island catching up with her. But it’s not enough to keep her still; she’s undeniably restless.

There’s something ansty picking at her scalp, gnarled fingers raking at the soft flumpy jelly of her brain. She can’t put her finger on it, perhaps it’s the stupid self-imposed distance she’d put between them. Her insistence that they sort their lives out individually, when all she wants to do is spend every waking moment in Frankie’s arms.

Since their departure, watching him drive away, each time Jude had closed her eyes, the vivid images of the tsunami rising on the horizon flashed through her frontal lobe, keeping her tense and wrought.

To add to that, she’d be accosted outside her parent’s house during her comings and goings to the point that that she soon had to fight her way through the small crowd of paparazzi expanding as the days wore on; hounding her as soon as she stepped foot out of the front door to tend to piecing her life back together again.

“Please, leave me alone,” she’d say to them as they crowded her until she got into her car and drove away, fraught and wrangled at their infecting presence now in her life.

At night the news broadcasts would still replay the moment they came through the arrivals together at JFK; Frankie clutching his arm around her and holding her tightly against his body whilst she shut her eyes and got through it.

She would watch it over and over like a zombie, unable to look away. Remembering how those arms felt around her and how much she missed them.

Life back here was hard, and Jude found herself missing the peace on the island, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply to calm herself, imagining she could hear the crash of the waves rolling up on the beach, the water splashing over her ankles and knees.

Headlines didn’t exist on the island, in fact nothing did. Just her and Frankie existed in their own confined and safe bubble away from the brutish realities that life harboured. Life that she’d been so desperate to get back to at one point, but now that she’s here, living in it, it’s just... well, it’s not like Jude remembered at all.

She’d reach for her phone and scroll through, searching for sounds of the ocean waves. Pressing play she’d slouch back into the pillow as the familiar, comforting sounds of the waves filled her room and she could finally sleep for a while.

But it wasn’t enough to quell that irritating picking.

One night she’d decided to get up, and soon found that she was running, in the middle of the night. Running until she was exhausted and her legs were screaming at her to stop.

Jude had eventually stopped, miles from home and threw up on the sidewalk; choking on catching her breath through the heaving, and it tasted like putrid sea water.

She’d cough it up, plumes of it coming out of her and swirling around her feet as she stood horrified, zoning out at the waking nightmare that seemed to plague her. Feeling as real as the water sinking into her sneakers.

The lumpy puddle of vomit stared back at her as she calmed her mind, trying to convince herself it wasn’t real.

It’s not real... you’re home now, you’re safe.

But home was strange, unsettling the way the city skyline twinkled in the distance, the towering buildings looking like giants against the backdrop of the dark sky. The sight should have brought comfort, a sense of familiarity and security. Instead, it only heightened Jude’s unease. The vastness of the urban landscape stretched out before her, a stark contrast to the confined space of the island that had been her world for so long.

Jude had proceeded to walk home in the breaking dawn and the sun was almost fully up by the time she’d stepped through the door. Her parents regarded her with an anxious look at the early hour, and Jude brushed it off to them that she was fine.

But the trend had continued every night; Jude would get up and run.

She would run until her body was on the verge of collapse, her feet bloody with blisters, and then when she would return home, she would pass out from exhaustion and sleep for only a few hours until the nightmares began to resurface again. She’d ply herself with coffee to stay awake, anything to not go there, and the cycle would repeat itself.

The one thing that was getting her through was the thought of seeing Frankie again.

And on the same evening after Frankie had seen his son for the first time, he and Jude are indeed talking on the phone, confirming the final details for his visit.

Jude feels instantly relaxed when she hears Frankie speak or breathe or chuckle down the line. Like every plague of angst swilling around her is instantly washed away.

But there’s something in his voice, a slight hesitation, a dimming of the light. Something she can’t put her finger on, so she changes the subject.

“There’s been a few members of the press hanging outside the house.” Jude almost whispers.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I guess they’ve figured out where I live.” She sighs. “They won’t leave me alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Frankie enquires, his voice changing further down the line.

“What can you do about it?”

“Well...” he trails off, “nothing, I guess, but that’s not the fuckin’ point.” He bites down on his lip. “Maybe it might be good to tell our story. Maybe it might offer some closure?”

“Closure?” Jude baulks.

“Yeah. I think we kinda need it,” he pauses.

“Mom says I should talk to someone, a therapist.” Jude says quietly.

She knows her mother means well, always the pragmatic voice of reason in their tiny family. But the suggestion stings somewhat, reopening wounds Jude is trying to bury. But in the back of her mind, perhaps that’s what the prickling is.

Frankie frowns. “You can talk to me, y’know.”

“I know I can. I keep having nightmares. It’s like I can’t get it outta my head, you know? It’s keeping me awake at night, the insomnia is pretty bleak right now.” She looks down at her blistered feet and winces.

Frankie goes quiet on the phone. He remembers all the times the sea water has chased and tried to drown him too.

“I hate knowing that you can’t sleep.” Frankie remarks sourly.

“It’ll be better when you’re here tomorrow. I miss you so much.” Jude says, her voice going quiet.

“I miss you too, hermosa.”

“I gotta tell you something… I bumped into Nate.” She waits when there’s an obvious pause on the line. She hears him take in a slow, steady breath.

“You did?” Frankie asks, freezing on the spot.

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell me what happened, what did he say?”

“Nothing much, same old Nate. He seemed convinced that we could get back together.” She snorts in repugnance.

“I see.” Frankie hums quietly.

“Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“You have nothing to worry about. I love you. I told Nate he didn’t stand a chance and that I didn’t want to see him ever again.”

“Kinda hard when he lives in your fuckin’ neighbourhood.” Frankie bites.

“Frankie-”

“Yeah, I know, sorry.”

“You okay? You seem distracted?”

He sighs hard down the line, running a hand through his hair. He knows he’s being guarded, but he can’t help it. The events of the past year, hell the past day, have left him with walls he doesn’t know how to dismantle.

“I’m okay, really. Just tired. I just... I fuckin’ hate this. I hate being away from you like this.” Frankie explains, the pulling in his gut subsiding a little.

“I do too. Was a stupid idea...”

“Yeah, not your finest.” He smirks down the line and she can hear it. Hear the fragments of the sun gleaming.

But Jude’s intuition tells her otherwise. She can sense the barrier between them, an invisible but palpable divide that his words don’t bridge.

“Frankie, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know,” he says, but the words feel hollow, knowing she deserves more than the half-truths he offers, as if they’re spoken from a distance.

The silence between them stretches out, taut and uncomfortable. He can sense Jude’s concern, her need for reassurance, and he knows he’s failing to provide it. He shifts in his seat, searching for something to bridge the gap.

“I’ve, uh, been looking at some apartments today. Here, in Florida.”

“Oh.” Jude says, her voice small and unsure.

He pauses. “You don’t like the sound of that?” He’s trying to keep his tone light, but unable to mask the underlying anxiety.

“No, I just... I mean, New York is my home and-”

“Yeah?” Realising how his announcement must have sounded to her, he pauses.

He’d intended to steer the conversation away from the emotional minefield of his pick n' mix of feelings, but instead, has inadvertently introduced another layer of unseen complexity.

“Well, my parents are here, and my work and-”

“You can visit them whenever you want. Your parents can come visit us too, it’s just a flight away.” Frankie says, sounding agitated.

“You mean you want me there, in Florida?”

“We love each other and want to be together, right?”

“Of course,” Jude confirms.

“I guess I’m just trying to figure things out, and Florida seems like the best place for me to be right now.” He grits.

“Why Florida specifically? You can figure things out anywhere, Frankie.”

“I just think it’s the best option right now for me to be here.”

“For what?” Jude is silent for a moment, her breath heavy on the line.

“Why are you so against it?”

Jude baulks. “I’m not, I’m just… have you really thought about this? It seems kinda rash all of a sudden, to be looking at apartments there.”

“Yes. I don’t understand what’s so fuckin’ difficult about it!” Frankie snipes, his tone flat and sharp.

“Woah, Frankie. What’s gotten into you?”

He hears her sigh heavily down the phone and she doesn't say anything else, waiting for him to respond.

“I’m sorry... Mierda, I just got in my head about it.” (Shit) Frankie replies, running his hand through his hair. “I thought maybe you’d wanna be here with me.”

“I want nothing more than to be with you,” she says, her voice softer but no less resolute. “But we need to find a way to do this together. We can’t make decisions in isolation, Frankie. We need to talk, really talk, about our future together, and where that might be.”

“Yeah.” Frankie confirms.

“We can talk about it more tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” Frankie replies, the words feeling both a relief and a heavy responsibility. “Listen, I’m gonna go. I’m tired, okay?”

“Okay.” Jude says, feeling deflated.

“I’ll call you in the morning, before my flight.” He replies bluntly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I love you,” Jude says.

“You too. Night.”

“Night.”

Instead of going for her run, Jude curls up into a ball on her bed, hugging her pillow and stares out at nothing.

The phone call with Frankie has left her feeling more unsettled, a gnawing worry twisting in her stomach. Her mind races with thoughts of the changes he’s proposing. Big changes moving to Florida to live with him? It seems so drastic, so sudden.

She understands his intentions, but the idea of him making such a significant move without fully discussing it with her feels like a betrayal somehow.

She tries to tell herself that perhaps she’s worrying over nothing, but her gut, the same gut that alerted her to Nate and his devious ways, convinces her all is not right with Frankie.

When he ends the call, Frankie tosses his phone down on the coffee table in Benny’s apartment and sits contemplating for a long time. Thinking and his mind whirring until the sounds of the water starts filling his ears again.

Irritated, Frankie rifles through some drawers until he finds a blank notebook and a pen.

He sits with the notebook on his knee and begins to write.

The landscape of silvery skyscrapers and the concrete jungle of the Big Apple are getting closer.

The turbulence that had once been a minor inconvenience now feels like a personal assault, each bump and shake magnifying his anxiety.

The cockpit had once been his sanctuary, a place where Frankie felt invincible. But ever since the crash, flights feel different.

The familiar hum of engines, the routine safety announcements, the very sensation of being airborne - everything that once brought him comfort now fills him with a creeping dread.

The announcement for descent breaks through his reverie, and Frankie braces himself for the landing. The plane dips and sways slightly, and his heart pounds in his chest.

He grips the armrests, white knuckling and closing his eyes, counting down the minutes until the plane touches down. The plane eventually hits the runway safely and begins its journey to the terminal.

Frankie’s booked another Air Bn’b for their reunion and Jude’s already there as he enters the apartment door, standing up and rushing to him, locking lips with him almost immediately that it makes him unsteady on his feet.

And he melds instantly around her. It blocks everything out, quietens the tornado of his mind and stifles that ache he’s felt since he watched her shrink in the distance.

Her lips are the same softness they’ve always been, her tongue tasting of longing and desire. He grips her tight, unable to let her go and fathom truly that she's back in his arms.

Frankie looks at her, pulling back whilst holding onto her arms, and regards her, taking her in all over again. She’s cut her hair and he weaves his fingers through it, smiling at the new length and how it changes her face.

She looks a little less gaunt, beginning to get those supple curves back that he remembers from the early days, filling out her clothes a little better and not having to hold up her jeans as she walks.

She wears a small smattering of make-up and he thinks she looks beautiful regardless - and that he’s wholly undeserving of her.

Jude reaches up and runs her fingers through his significantly shorter curls peeking out from under his cap, and marvels at how soft they feel.

His eyes are still that muddy swamp that swallows her whole. Those heart shaped lips are still a pink rosy splash of intense colour on his face that she longs to taste again and again.

The welcome and anticipated feel of her fingers grazing behind his ears hair whilst she’s stood on tip toes is an indescribable relief.

Frankie stares back at her with those piercing eyes and she’s held there under the spell of his gaze unable to refute him. Breathing never used to be so hard, but she has to constantly remind herself to do it whenever he looks at her like this.

The mastery of him leaves Jude breathless.

“Hey hermosa,” he smiles into her lips as he tastes her again.

“Hey Catfish” she says, kissing over his lips with a heated fervour.

He’s here with her and it feels like she can finally breathe again - he’s finally home.

Her fingers are delicately circling up and down his chest; pulling him out of sleep, dipping into the softness of his hips, trailing across to the slot of his belly button.

He lays there for a few sweet, oneiric moments quietly enjoying the patterns Jude makes on his skin and how it makes his nipples awaken with him too.

It’s been the first full night’s sleep he’s had in over a month, since he’d parted ways with her and left her in New York. Frankie doesn’t wake with a sweaty jolt from a torrid nightmare of drowning, or burning and instead feels more rested than he’s ever been.

Holding her in his arms all night, after they’d made intense love for hours beforehand, she’s managed to sleep too and isn’t lying awake trying to calm herself with ocean sounds as insomnia strangles her. Nor does she feel the need to run until she can’t feel her feet anymore.

Jude's forehead is resting against his cheek and is tickled lightly by the graze of his scruff reaching out of his pores, and his lips glue themselves to her temple now and again kissing against it, signalling he’s there with her in the land of the conscious.

Frankie lusts for the feeling of her making swirly tracks over his epidermis and leaving little shivers as she glides over his hips and sides of his waist.

Frankie runs his fingers down her spine and up again; he hears her breathe out contentedly.

He’s soft and relaxed; his warm cock resting languidly against the top of his thigh, and her breasts are squashed into the side of him, her leg hooked over his left leg.

Waking up together slowly through sleep-filled eyes and enjoying the warmth of the day as the sun pools in through the window, with those breathy sighs and stretches around one another’s limbs.

“Mmm,” Frankie hums out into her crown, ghosting his nose into her hairline and indulging in the scents of her hair.

Jude shadows her fingers gently in return over his groin, down onto the plump circumference of his balls and gently massages them; tiny pitter-patters of her fingertips against the skin that bunches around them.

Enjoying the firmness of them through the somnolent comfort of their hazy bliss, she rolls them gently between her thumb and fingers squeezing softly.

She begins cupping him gently and squeezing, kneading as she makes his breath hitch further in his throat. His fingers are felt crawling at her neck, scratching away at the nape delicately.

He reaches for her chin, tipping her face up to meet him and plants a delicate smooch on her that soon morphs with its vivid passion. His other hand goes to the skin around her back and slips, clutching onto her bare ass, squeezing her pliant meat in his tender grip.

She rolls over his balls and up the length of him that’s hardening, waking up fully to the sensual feel of her touching on him again.

Frankie draws his right leg up and out of the duvet, resting it back down as he opens his legs a little wider as Jude starts pumping his now awake cock gently. Up and down slowly and with her grip tightening around him.

He grunts out; a delicious sound escaping his mouth and nose as though he chokes.

He strokes down her back again, making her nipples hard as her skin tingles cold from his touch. His fingertips dance and create little convulses as he drags them up her body making her ripple softly against him.

He rests his hand on his waist; a splayed giant starfish as she looks up at him, and he looks back into her eyes through that hooded desire that’s clouding them into a milky latte in the morning light.

“I love it when you touch me like this,” Frankie whines, enjoying the feel of the relaxed jerk session she’s giving him in the early morning dawn.

“I love touching you like this,” Jude confirms.

They’re spread together in the puffy sheets of the bed, warm and content from one another’s skin, touching and stroking and feeling one another.

He reaches for her breast, running his knuckles against her pebbled nipple, making her groan equally into his mouth as he kisses her again. That nub of each jolt through it sends sparks up her thighs and into her pussy that’s flooding for him.

He grunts out again, a deep hum on his larynx, drawing his knee up and holding onto his thigh as she works him tighter and little more rhythmic now.

The slick feel of his hard cock inside her hand is paramount as she licks her palm and runs it over him, squelching him through her saliva.

His eyes roll into the back of his head at the feel of it; so wet and sensitive right on the tip of him that it makes his legs judder with a spasm.

Frankie breathes in, grunting and pursing his lips out, bucking his hips slowly into her grip.

“Fuck,” he drowns inside of her hair; feeling her fingers dancing around his balls and massaging as she strokes his cock up and down.

Running her thumb over his frenum and making the delicious pull wind tighter under the muscles of his abs.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” he drones, biting down onto his plumpy bottom lip and closing his eyes as they roll back into his lids. “You make me wanna come so bad...”

His hips are trembling and his hand is reaching for her chin again as he swallows her in a swamping kiss.

He groans out with a hissed snuffle; his teeth clenched together and his cheeks blown out, his eyes shut and lost somewhere between rational thinking and pure unadulterated bliss.

His hips wind as Jude pumps and jerks him off tighter, harder, faster - tugging on his balls now that are aching wonderfully through it all.

“Fuck, yeah…" His breath vibrates in the back of his throat as he sucks in little gasps in succession

“Come for me, Frankie,” Jude whispers into his chin.

Frankie tenses his ass, his cheeks rising from the mattress slightly as he feels everything in his body rush towards the end of his cock.

“Fuck!” His head contorts back into the pillow.

He covers her fingers in warm, plentiful glops, some of it spraying up his chest as he comes.

She strokes him gently through his sticky come down as he reaches for her, kissing her deeply and pulling back to look at her as she smiles at him with sleepy, dream filled eyes.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Should we… should we maybe talk about Florida?” Jude probes gently as she reaches for a tissue from the box on the bedside table.

“I love you too, hermosa.” He moans back into her mouth. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

He holds her tightly, closing his eyes as he breathes out in sweet relief.

Frankie wipes his chest down as she hands it to him, and she notices he avoids her gaze. He screws it up in his fist and turns to her.

He hesitates, the words catching in his throat. This is the moment he’s been dreading since he found out himself. How can he tell her? How can he shatter all her illusions?

“I know you said Florida's the best place for you right now, but is it really, considering how much…” she chooses her words carefully, “... pain, is there?”

His eyes soften at her and he feels the catch in his throat. Of course she would worry about his addiction. That’s just who she is, always wanting the best for him.

Jude had been his rock during his darkest days on that damned island. She had seen him at his worst - angry, desperate, afraid - and she had never given up on him. Her unwavering support had been a lifeline, a beacon of hope when everything else seemed lost at sea.

Jude had believed in Frankie when he couldn’t believe in himself, and now, even with the weight of his past mistakes and the uncertainty of his future, she’s still here, still caring. Still loving him even though he knows he is far less than deserving of her.

Frankie swallows hard, emotions swirling sickly inside him. He feels a mix of gratitude and guilt. Gratitude for her steadfast love and support, and guilt for the pain and worry he’s caused her. He can see it in her eyes as they peer carefully back at him, a slight spark of trepidation and confusion.

“Frankie, you’re worrying me, please talk to me.”

He can see the concern etched on her beautiful face, the worry that perhaps he’s back on the drugs. It’s an unspoken fear that lingers within her, a cariogenic shadow from the past that refuses to fade completely.

Frankie knows she has every reason to be anxious, to be fearful of a relapse because, God, he is. It's a struggle that he faces every single day now he's back here.

She squeezes his hand, her eyes brimming with concerned empathy, and a touch of something else. Something that threatens to fall down her face like jagged glass.

Frankie takes a deep breath and looks at her.

He realises in that moment just how much he needs her, how much he needs her belief in him. How much he can't lose her.

Fuck, he loves her more than anything. He just hopes that its enough.

“Jude, I… I have a son.”

To be continued...

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