#I wanted to scream at him but I couldn’t

[hurlingdown]

with my hands around your throat (top male reader, nsfw)

tags: sub!sukuna, soft dom!reader. can be read as cock or strap. brat taming, choking, begging, hair-pulling, belly bulge, heavy praise kink, pet names (good boy, sweetheart), porn with feelings, this turned out way more intimate than i intended it to be

His back arched away from your chest as you slowly pushed your cock inside him, stretching him wide open. You could feel his every ragged breath from the hand you wrapped around his throat, silent for once, and you knew he was eager. 

“Good fuckin’ boy, Sukuna,” you muttered lowly into his ear.  

You barely heard the warning growl. He turned his head abruptly, teeth snapping together in an attempt to bite as you jerked away, barking out a startled laugh. 

“Aw, that was cute.” And as though the bite wouldn’t have torn flesh, wouldn’t have scarred your face for life, you smiled down at his scowling face like it was a pretty thing. 

“I am not your pet,” Sukuna snarled, and he sounded angry, something akin to a wounded animal. You hummed non-committedly, continuing to push until you were snugly seated inside him. “Fuck—the n-next time you call me that, I will bite something more than your face.”

“How tempting.” Despite his threats, his legs were trembling with effort to hold himself up, and he pressed his throat into the cup of your hand, willingly submitting to your touch. You squeezed lightly, just enough to press into his windpipe, and watched as all four of his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

It was funny, really, how he was using violence to disguise what a whore he really was. You counted to five before you let go. 

Apparently, you stopped too early for his liking. He was panting, his glare wet with tears, biting down a moan with bared teeth as the fat tip of your cock caught on his rim before easing in again. You were moving at a lumbering pace, deep and hard inside him but too fucking slow and rubbing at all the wrong places. 

He was growing frustrated by the second, and he finally barked, “Get on with it or I’ll kill you! Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

“I am fucking you, Sukuna.” 

“Not like this! Fuck—fuck you!” he half-hissed, half-whined, nails digging into the soft mattress. ‘More’ and ‘faster’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he took pride in his title of the King of Curses, and naturally his ego kept his mouth sealed shut. “Do really think I will hesitate to kill you just because I let you inside me? Are you that much of a fool?”

“Nah,” you replied nonchalantly, rolling your hips inside him to jolt out a startled moan. “You can kill me, but I don’t feel like catering to you today.” 

His words exploded into a string of expletives as he slammed his hips against you, shuddering as it only dug deeper, missing his sweet spot by far. 

Sukuna wanted to scream. 

Hand sliding up from his throat to firmly seize his jaw, you turned his face to meet you. “D’you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Your fingers dug into his cheek, taking extra precaution in making sure he wouldn't suddenly rear up and bite you. 

You needn’t have worried, though. He was way too desperate to care about the pet name or comprehend your question at that point, and he bucked his hips impatiently against yours, letting out a displeased growl. “What? J-just fucking fuck me already, brat.” 

You ignored him, continuing to move into him at a languid pace. “If I just give you the reward every time you ask, you’ll turn spoiled. How about you show me that you’ve earned it first, mm?” 

“What,” he lets out a shudder, breath bordering on a sob because why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? He was so good for you, all patient despite his arousal, waiting for you to take him like you had promised, and yet you were being so mean and unfair to him. “What do you fucking want from me? You are just—fuuuckk, you are just human—so fucking weak, comparable to an insect! What makes you think you have the right to demand that of me? I am your king.”

He wanted to rip that smirk right off your face, punch your pretty face in. Dine in your blood. You didn’t deserve him. 

“I don’t have any right, I know,” you agreed, “but you aren’t entitled to everything, either.”

“Your ways of insinuation are pathetic—”

It hit him then, like a thunderbolt splitting the earth apart, and he gave a violent shudder.

The past twenty minutes had not been for nothing. You weren’t just toying around with him. You wanted him to see him crumble from his want for you. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, fuck you. I am not going to beg.” 

You felt a sadistic smile creep onto your face. Seeing him deviating from his usual cocky self, now a babbling, incoherent mess, gave you a strange sort of pleasure. “I didn’t ask you to beg, though, did I? But now that you mention it…” 

You wanted to break him. 

Not that he wasn’t breaking already.

Sukuna was trembling with the effort of not giving in, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it tore through skin. Blood trickled down one side of his chin, and you wanted to lick it up. 

“I am your king,” he repeated, a tremor in his voice betraying his want. “You offer to me. I do not beg.”

“Well, king, you’re holding up all the fun,” you taunted, voice sickly sweet. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

He shook his head again, this time with less force. Tears were welling up in his eyes again, and he didn’t even bother to blink them away, too occupied otherwise. They dotted on his lashes, threatening to spill. Where were his promises of ‘biting something more than your face’? What a little liar. 

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be feeling it for days,” you purred into his ear, “in exchange for one word. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

You watched in triumph as his eyebrows furrowed, as though carefully contemplating his answer. It was far too generous of an offer—he would be a fool to refuse. You made sure he knew that. Just one more little push, and he would topple over the edge and become putty in your hands. One more push. 

Kissing your way down his spine to plaster yourself to his back, you reached a hand down his abdomen with your free hand, pressing into it where your cock rested within him. It was too much, and you knew it. You were heavy and thick inside him, filling up every inch of his tummy, and he hadn’t stopped clenching around your girth since the first time you pushed it in. Then you moved your hand, feeling him up until you found the thing you were looking for. 

You heard his breath hitch. 

Beneath your fingers was an obscene swelling high up in his abdomen, protruding from the hard lines of his stomach. A bulge that made for clear evidence that his insides were carving out a space for you. You should have known there was no way it would fit so innately. No matter how disagreeable his personality was, his body was so good for you, as always. 

You gave the bulge a little squeeze, and Sukuna let out a choked whine, mouth gaping as though trying to form words. 

You pressed yourself to his back, kissing his shoulder. “What is it?” 

He shook his head, continuing to whine softly, no longer as petulant as he was desperate. You were almost afraid you had broken him. 

You decided to take one more step. Flattening your palm on the bulge, you carefully pressed it back into his stomach. “What do you want, Sukuna?” you whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He tipped his head back to glare at you with the corner of his eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Give me more,” he gritted out, helpless. “Please.” 

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Without warning, you pulled back and rammed yourself into him in one go, angling your hips to pound right into his sweet spot, making him cry out in surprise. “W-wait, wait, ahh!” he screamed, the hand on his neck forcing him to stay in place. “Slow down, ‘s too much—” 

You continued to slam your hips against him, hitting his prostate with every sharp thrust, drinking in his whines and complaints and ignoring all of them. “You’re so good, so fuckin’ good, Sukuna.” 

He whined loudly in response, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as you railed him into oblivion. “Not good, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head, his protests falling on deaf ears. “Bastard, slow down…”

You let go of his throat to grab the back of his neck, shoving his face roughly into the mattress as he cried out. “Fuck, how do you feel so good?” you muttered mindlessly, taking more rapture in looking at his pleasure-addled expression (eyes squeezed shut, drooling onto the bed, moaning loud and clearly in ecstasy) than the fact that you were inside him. “I could do this all day long, y’know?” 

The tip of his erection grazed against the sheets with every thrust, and he wanted nothing more than to grab it and jerk off to your pace, but you kept his hands so busy, either trying to knock off his balance or brutally pound his entire body into the bed. 

“Ah, ah, sh-shut up! Keep talking and—I’ll twist your head off!” he threatened with a whine, desperate, but you continued to talk, embarrassing him further. 

“Look at you,” you cooed, “you were making a fuss earlier, and look at you now, taking me so well. Fuck. You look like you’re made for this, Sukuna. Made for taking my cock.” 

He seized up at that, hole clenching around your girth obscenely, making your pace stutter. 

“What was that?” you laughed. “Was that a turn on? You’re too cute, really.” 

Sukuna tried to morph his face into a look of disgust, but all he succeeded in doing was have his eyebrows pinched up in a look that resembled pure bliss more than anything. At some point he gave up struggling, arms going slack as he allowed you to pull him back against your cock by the hips, fucking him onto your lap as lewd ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaped his lips. 

You were pounding into him like an animal, treating him like one, and yet your pathetic, ingratiating words never failed to make his heart cramp up with a strange sensation, heat spreading from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest, painting him a pretty red. 

You were just another lowly human, he reminded himself, someone to fuck and forget, but at the moment Sukuna found himself wishing to get lost in the stars that erupted around the edges of his vision every time you hit his prostate, found himself wanting a second time, even if the first hadn’t ended yet. You drove him insane, and he loathed how good it made him feel. 

“Brat,” he heard his own voice, wrecked by how much noise he had been making, and you leaned forward to kiss his spine, letting him know you heard him. 

“What?” you murmured as he didn’t continue, slowing down your thrusts. “D’you need something? Does it hurt?” He bristled at how tender your words were, how you acted like you cared about a bloodthirsty curse like him. 

“Did I give you permission to stop?” He pushed his hips back against you with a growl, forcing you to pick up your pace. “Just wanta let you know—after this. You’ve got—hnngh, ahh, fuuuck! Nowhere to run. So don’t even think about i-it.” 

You blinked, equal parts amused and perplexed by his sudden threat. You dared not stop, though, even as he started to pant and whine heavily into the mattress, body shuddering with the gradual approach of an orgasm. “I’m not going to run from you, Sukuna. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Why would you run, when he was right under you, pliant and wanting for you to satisfy him? Did he not understand how much you’ve yearned for this? 

“Good choice,” he moaned, “don’t you dare fucking stop until you make me cum.”

You sped up your thrusts, snaking a hand back onto his neck and up to fist into his hair, wrenching his head up to smother him with a filthy kiss. It was rough, and more teeth than tongue, and at some point you could taste the sharp tang of blood from the cut in his lip earlier. You lapped it up along with the saliva that trickled down his chin, hearing him let out a needy whine. 

“So close, ah—so damn close, please, please, fucking please—” he begged shamelessly between loud moans, stripping himself naked of all dignity as he spent the last of his energy to bend his back into a vile arch, pressing his ass against your crotch as you slammed yourself into his swollen sweet spot in one powerful thrust. 

A scream ripped from his throat and he came untouched, staining the bed with white, at the same time clamping down on you so hard you jerked to a sudden stop. You collapsed onto his back, panting loudly as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “You okay?” 

He refused to respond, keeping his face buried in the mattress. You took the opportunity to pull out, hearing him let out a soft whine, cold and aching and suddenly empty. 

“Fuck you,” you heard him mutter. 

That was good. He was still alive. 

You slumped down onto the bed next to him, kissing his shoulder to try and get him to turn, and he raised a shaky hand to flip you off, mumbling something you assumed was a profanity. 

Biting down a grin at how utterly adorable he was being, you found yourself overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection. 

“What, are you shy?” you teased. “Don’t be.” 

He scoffed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Brat, I am not shy.”

He didn’t have any reason to be shy. Not to you. After all, you had long mapped out every inch of his body, from his prominent features to his most vulnerable. Made him want to bare his throat for you to make him feel good.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way Sukuna slowly flipped himself onto his back, levelling you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze instead of his usual hard glare, muttering something under his breath. He watched you quietly, placing his hand next to yours on the bed, the position far too intimate for your comfort.

“Hey,” you blurted out, feeling your heart skip a beat. You knew you were risking everything, and that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “You were really good today.” 

Good.

Sukuna had been called many things in his life before, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Good men did not dirty their hands with the blood of the innocent for fun. Good men did not sit on a mountain of bones and call themselves a king. Good men did not grow six arms and four eyes and look like monsters, and Sukuna was a monster himself.

There was a long, awkward pause, and his eyes were wide with a look you couldn’t decipher—one of disgust or mockery, maybe, and you were already regretting it. But to your utmost surprise, it started with a light blush dusted high on his cheekbones, before it bloomed into a dark red that spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and then lifted, ever so slightly. He immediately fought to replace it with a scowl, but you had already seen it. 

He had smiled. Sukuna had smiled at you. A genuine, almost soft smile, as though he cherished the way you told him he was good, had longed to hear it for centuries of living.

“Quit smiling, brat,” he huffed, but his voice lacked any real venom, more exhausted and content than anything, and made no refusal when you leaned in to kiss him.

Sukuna would later realise that he was neither good nor man, but if you were ever so willing to embrace a curse like him, he supposed he could be good to you, for you.  masterlist! p.s. and here’s to introducing me and my delusions to the jjk fandom… also i feel like my tags r getting a lil repetitive lol

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @lynnistired!

A/N: Thank you so much for trusting me again! This turned out a bit more sweet than expected (but still spicy). Hope you like this one, too! <3 Part 1 can be found here.

Request: I'm here to request more werebunny boyfriend the first was was too good and now I need more🙏🏽 whatever plot you want go crazy with it!!

Date a werebunny they said… (part 2)

Were-bunny x fem!reader || oral sex, praise kink, forced orgasms, mentioned somnophilia

You blinked slowly as the world came to be around your fuzzy brain, waking up after the best and worst experience of your life: your were-rabbit boyfriend’s rut.

You didn’t know how many hours passed since it started, you didn’t even know what time it was. It was dark outside, maybe a whole day went by as you got ravished? You had no idea. You passed out a couple times during the rut. Your boyfriend didn’t stop fucking you, restlessly, even when you were asleep. Your brain was too fuzzy and your body too tired to keep up with his extreme stamina.

You woke up twice because of him. He kept forcing orgasms out of you, making you scream at the top of your lungs as tears rolled down your cheeks. The pleasure so high it was painful, but so, so, so good.

The idea that he was that turned on by you made everything a thousand times more intense, and the fact that he took everything he needed from your limp body was weirdly hot. You liked the fact that he couldn’t hold back his passion around you, that he was pretty much feral for your pussy and your pleasure. After your pussy recovered, you would probably want to explore the free use thing a bit more. That thought made you feel naughty, but a spark of arousal rose inside of you.

You didn’t even know how your body still had the energy to be turned on, you felt dehydrated after so many orgasms. Even though your soft were-rabbit made you drink water any chance he got.

Third time you woke up, there was a soft and wet tongue parting your labia and kissing your oversensitive clit. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he repeated over and over as he licked your abused pussy.

You groaned pathetically, trying to get away from him. You wanted to tell him off, to tell him to go fuck himself or something. But you had not a single drop of energy in your body. He exhausted you so completely you couldn’t do anything but to lie there as he licked the mixture of his cum and your juices.

You were so sensitive it was almost painful, but the immense pleasure that filled you with each touch of his tongue was beyond anything you’d ever felt. He licked and sucked, making out with your pussy slowly, but with a purpose. He was trying to take everything you had and then some more. He wanted everything. But you didn’t even know if you could come anymore. It felt like an impossible quest at that point.

But he proved you wrong, licking you lazily as his fingers probed your asshole. You moaned and came again, your thighs trembling around his head, your hands holding onto his long fluffy ears. “You can’t stop coming, can you?” He asked rhetorically, looking up at you with the most tender expression you’ve ever seen on is face.

His eyes showed all his love for you, but also a spark of heat beyond it. You didn’t know if he wanted to go again, but you weren’t sure you could. Your pussy couldn’t take it. He didn’t seem to care about your tears or your whimpers, he kept playing with your pussy, eating you out like you were his new favorite snack.

He blew some hot air against your clit and you cried out. “Come on, darling, one more,” he urged. You tried to move away again, but he grabbed your legs and drew you to him again.

“I can’t. Please stop. Please. I can’t take it anymore.” Your hands pulled at his ears, trying to get him away from your abused pussy. He chuckled and kissed your clit softly, forcing a new round of whimpers out of you.

“Of course you can. One more and I promise I’ll stop.” He sucked your clit inside his mouth and you cried out his name, trembling under him.

He always wanted to make you orgasm over and over, sometimes you believed he was trying to drink your soul out of you. Sometimes you thought he liked to make you come more than coming himself. And at this point of his rut, you were 99% sure it was exactly like that. He stopped fucking you long ago, opting for making you come as he humped the mattress. In other circumstances, you would have found that hot and adorable, but at that point you felt like an exposed nerve.

“You promise?” You asked, hopeful. You didn’t know if you could take any more, you felt like floating already, like your body wasn’t yours anymore. It was his. All of you was his.

“Yes. Come for me.” You knew it was a lie, always a lie. He wouldn’t stop wanting you to come. But you couldn’t deny him, not when he was doing such a good job making out with your tender flesh. You came again, your body barely moving anymore. “Good girl, I wish you could see yourself right now. You look gorgeous all limp and drunk with pleasure. All fucked out.” He was talking to you, but looking at your pussy. You didn’t even care if he was talking about your pussy and not yourself as a person. You would gladly be just a set of holes for him to use.

You didn’t get to verbalize that idea, your eyes felt heavy as sleep claimed you once more.

He woke you up just like that at least three more times. Getting you to come and come. And after what felt like thousand orgasms later, and maybe a couple more naps in between, you woke up without a tongue inside your pussy. You sighed in relief, your voice too worn out to say anything coherent, yet.

Your pretty were-rabbit boyfriend was laying beside you, his head against the pillow, looking at you intently. “Are you okay?” He whispered. You tried to hide your blush, feeling shy for some reason. He fucked you to hell and back, and now you felt shy because he was looking at you tenderly… Sometimes you couldn’t understand your own head.

You checked your body mentally. “I think so. I don’t think I can move, though.” Your lower body felt sore all over, and your upper body pretty much the same. It felt like you went to the gym for twelve hours straight. And well... if you counted the amount of times you fucked, the gym scenario was probably a less extenuating activity.

He jumped to his feet instantly. “No worries. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll do everything for you.” He tried to fuss over you, covering you with the blanket and caressing your hair. You leaned down to his touch and sighed happily. That felt great. He offered you some water that you took gladly, helping your head up so you wouldn’t choke.

And then something inside of you went uh oh, and you felt a new urge. “I- I kinda need to pee,” you confessed.

“I take you.” He was reaching for you instantly.

The idea of him carrying your naked body to the bathroom and waiting for you to finish made you want to cringe. “What? No!” You exclaimed, trying to push your body up on the bed. And failing.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “Can you walk?” You tried to sit, and after a good three minutes you got your body to the edge of the bed, panting.

“Uh. Yes.” You tried to get up on your own, but your legs weren’t responding. Fuck. “Okay, no. I can’t walk.” He lowered his head to hide his smirk, but you saw it either way. He was proud of himself. He was happy you couldn’t walk. What a shithead. But you had to hide your own smile. “Is this my first sex injury?” You asked, jokingly. He looked at you worried, but at the sight of your smile he melted.

“Yeah, you can say it like that.” His voice was neutral, and you knew instantly that something was wrong.

You joked a bit more, trying to reduce the uncomfortable feeling setting between you. “Can’t wait to tell my friends my boyfriend injured me, sexually.”

He looked at you, his ears twitching and fluttering, embarrassed. “You… You still want to be my girlfriend?” His voice was so low you almost didn’t hear him. But, luckily, you were so close you could rise your hand and put it on his soft cheek.

“What? Of course! Why wouldn’t I?” You forced him to look at you and kissed his cute button nose, making him frown in the most adorable way. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Even if after I became a sex maniac?” The worry and self-consciousnesses behind his words made your heart hurt for him.

“Yes. I love you no matter what, you silly rabbit. You act like you didn’t make me come at least a thousand times, I enjoyed that, didn’t you realize?” You told him, smiling so big your cheeks hurt. He returned your smile and you couldn’t hold yourself back from kissing him senseless. “But no more sex for a couple days,” you added, chuckling.

“Okay, whatever you want.” He was looking at you like you held the moon, and you felt the most especial girl in the entire world.

“Now, can you get me to the bathroom or not?” You broke heartfelt the moment, as always. He laughed and moved your almost limp body across the room.

You couldn’t stop smiling, and he couldn’t either.

Don't forget you can also commission me, info here.

[sukunas-wife]

I wonder how would Yuji react to the news that he is going to be an older brother. Also, I'm just picturing little Yuji being protective of momma the entire pregnancy. He wants to look after his mom like big daddy Sukuna.

It took a while- and I mean this as in this ask was from January 😭 and I hate when I actually become active, my life decides it wants to pick up also

But 🤍🤍🤍

Yuji is confused but excited when you sit him in your lap and tell him, “Yuji, I have good news.” He just smiled up at you with starry eyes hoping you’ve gotten him another pet. “Yes?” “You’re going to be an older brother.”

His smile drops and he pouts for a second, “No pet?” You have to tell him no and explain what you mean by he’s going to be an older brother. The moment he learns his brother or sister is in your stomach he’s quick to stand between your legs pressing his ear to your stomach trying to listen and see if he can hear them.

“I don’t hear anything… it’s empty.” He pats your belly lightly with hand before saying “hellooo.” You have to hold back your laugh as you run a hand over his head brushing back his hair. “You won’t hear anything for a while. Maybe when they get bigger you’ll get to feel them kick and you’ll know they’re there.”

He nodded his face with a serious look holding his little fists, “They gotta get bigger.” You couldn’t fight back squeezing him in a hug and he laughed hugging you back just a tight.

Of course he forgets your holding his sibling captive in your stomach. Until, you’re out on a walk to the village and a man runs right into you and your swollen stomach while holding a heavy crate of fruit.

All he remembers was his dad holding the man by his neck with one hand, threatening to cut the man alive with the nails on his other hand and telling him since he felt generous he’d let him live for now.

After taking the man’s crate of fruit that he abandoned, you were already scavenging through it for something. Stopping only when you felt your husband stare and you smiled sheepishly at him. “What? The baby’s hungry.” Sukuna sighed, “But is it well?”

Of Course when you stood up holding a mango and patting your stomach, “Just excited, it started kicking the moment you yelled at that man. I get the feeling it’ll come to be another replica.” You scoffed with a smile before holding the mango to him, “Will you please?”

That’s when it kicks into Yuji, “I GOTTA MAKE SURE NO ONE HURTS MOMMY!”

He’s the incarnation of this c:<

Now that he’s seen his dad do it, in the palace the servants beware of Young Yuji. He once saw a male servant walking towards you with a knife, and with all his might ran at the man and tackled him screaming.

The servant man cut his own hand while falling, profusely apologising to Yuji for getting blood on his suit and for dirtying your fruit knife. You were shocked, staring at the scene before you dismissed the servant telling him not to worry about it and to tend to his wound while you sat Yuji on your lap. You couldn’t help but smile and hug your boy while he rambled on about how he showed that man not to mess with his mom.

After a stern talking too and explaining he needed to watch people before just running at them full force he understood his assignment. Even more when his dad called on him to “speak” with him alone.

In all honesty your beloved husband dropped a heavy hand on his head in a prideful way, his massive hand shaking Yuji’s head around while showing his affection. Yuji, who was used to it, was happy and smiling big. Then came his dad’s serious face. He sat Yuji infront of him on the floor. It was his father but he was still an intimidating man when he became serious.

“Yuji, I need you to understand that I may not always be around. As my son, my only son, my first born child, I’m going to trust you to take care of your mother and your sibling. You’re young, but I know you are more than capable of putting a few petty fools in their place. I need you to understand that I’m trusting you, not only with your mother, but my wife. One of the few things I would risk everything to protect, even more when your sibling is in its way. I don’t want you to think that I’m putting all of this weight on you, but there are very few in this world I trust, and I’m trusting you. Please understand how important this is to me, and how important it should be to you. Your burdens are mine to carry, your mothers are mine to carry, I won’t push my own onto either of you, but now I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I knew you weren’t capable or trustworthy.” Yuji sat there staring up at his dad, who was staring down at him. Yuji smiled brightly out of nowhere before tilting his head to the side. “Taking care of our family isn’t a burden.”

It was interesting for Yuji the more your stomach swole. He watched his dad kneel in front of you pressing his ear to your stomach tapping on it like it were a melon listening to see if it were good. Yuji became curious and wanted to listen also. It led you to laugh when he felt it moving.

He was scared, saying it felt like a snake moving around. And just like his dad he was smiling like a fool when your child would give a strong kick to their hands for tapping and bothering them so frequently.

Yuji thought it was funny how sometimes his dad would stand behind you and lift your stomach with his lower set of arms. And you’d always perk up and be happier. So, one day when he noticed you complaining and whining while rubbing your stomach and back he did his best to stand in front of you and push your stomach up so he could lift up some of the weight.

Of course you cried and let him panic, almost dropping the entire weight of your stomach, until you placed a hand on his head smiling at him with teary eyes. His scared face fell into a soft smile, you couldn’t fight back squishing his cheeks. “My sweet boy, you’ve been helping me so much.” Caressing his face with a soft hand he can’t help but smile wider, shrugging his shoulders up as he let out a giggle. Of course not being as well built as his father he was caving in the first five minutes which made you laugh as you sat down only to have him tuck a pillow under your stomach to try and help you. He stood there looking at you hopefully.

He was smiling big when you smiled down at him, placing a hand on his head, ruffling hair in a far more gentle manner. He loved your little head pats and head rubs, they always made him feel loved when neither of you could find the words.

It was a humid spring day, and you were currently curing your husband for not getting you pregnant in the spring so you could at least have the comfort of the cool winter on your skin when you were laying on your bed more than anything else in your final days.

Laid out on your back you had felt your child shift a while ago. The movement had disappeared not long after that, but you were certain you were going to be prone to peeing yourself if it didn’t stop pressing against your bladder soon. Still, here you were, hands in your stomach feeling your intestines grumble as the little bit of fruit you ate started to move and settle.

Yawning and stretching while arching your back relieved you a bit before you slid down into your bed further. The blankets and sheets had been thrown over to the side where your husband was just laying before he got up to bring you cool water. The sun was setting but the rainstorms had left the day and night humid in an incredulous manner. You cursed your husband for being a man who could walk around without a shirt in this heat.

To think all those months ago at the summers peak when you complained that you couldn’t and he stripped you saying of course you could, was the same day he had actually gotten you pregnant upset you more. You refused to listen to his reasoning as you laid there in your thin white under robes.

You remember Yuji’s birthday, a woman was killed that day because she was too eager to see your husband and you were walking around like a badass with contractions for 8 hours. Now look at yourself, whining at the heat as you struggled to sit up, Yuji not only had softened you but also his father who was currently walking in yawning while holding a clay pitcher topped with a cup. “I brought it.”

He sat beside you placing the pitcher on your night stand as he helped lift you up to sit. You both sat in silence as he watched you drink your water and whine about wanting to stand and get out of that hot room.

He helped you up supporting your weight on his side as you waddled the cold floors of your shinden zukuri. You both came across Yuji’s room, you laughed quietly as you heard him snoring through the door. “He’s tired, he’s been with me everyday for the last month doing everything now.” Sukuna hummed, taking your hand and squeezing it, “That’s our son.”

You smiled up at him, you saw the shift in his face as he smiled at you which quickly changed when yours did. It felt like the wind was knocked out of you when you heard that heavy trickle of water. Both of you looking down, you knew well enough what was coming next.

—- —- —- —- —-

It didn’t take long for your daughter to come into the world.

It took longer for a frightened Yuji to walk in and see his sister. He slowly walked into your side as his dad nudged him forward.

You cooed at your boy squeezing him into your side and rubbing his shoulder and arm in a comforting way. He leaned against your shoulder and stared at the bundle in your arms, pink hair, pale skin, little angry fists and pout as she whined. “She looks just like dad….” You laughed, accidentally jostling the child in your arms. Yuji smiled at you before turning to smile at his dad who had the same angry pout only directed at his words, “I DON'T look like that.”

You smiled and kept rubbing Yuji’s arm, “Do you want to hold her while she’s sleeping?” You tried to shuffle your way up the bed to sit before Yuji held your arm down, “I’ll take care of her mom, so you can sleep.” His bright eyed smile warmed your heart, as you did your best to guide him on how to hold his sister.

Sukuna was right there with Yuji watching him as you leaned back into your bed feeling the exhaustion weigh over you. You wanted to rest a bit only to hear Yuji’s small voice, “‘m gonna take care of you, I’m your big brother, I'll always protect you.” Through squinted eyes you could see Sukuna place a heavy hand on Yuji’s shoulder smiling down at him, Yuji was cooing and smiling at his little sister Anya.

Tag list: @sad-darksoul @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @venus-seeks @bofadeezs @shytastemakerthing @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing @alialucille

[sophrosynesworld]

Yeah, Best Friends

Katsuki Bakugo calls you during a panic attack seeking comfort.

“Hello?” I mumble groggily as I answer my phone, rolling over and fumbling to switch on the lamp beside my bed. The sudden brightness stings my eyes, my eyelids droop heavily as I wait for a response. Silence.

I rub my eyes, blinking at the screen to make sure the call hasn't been disconnected. Bakugo’s contact name and photo glare back at me.

“Bakugo, are you there?” I ask, my voice still rough from the early morning wakeup. I sit up slightly, my curiosity piqued. Just as I’m about to end the call, I hear it—a muffled cry from the other end.

“Bakugo?” I repeat, “Is everything okay?”

There’s a pause, followed by a shaky breath. “Yeah,” he finally replies, but his voice is uncharacteristically soft.

“What’s going on?” I question him again, my concern growing. The silence between us stretches thin, filled only with his ragged breathing.

“I… I didn’t know who else to call,” he admits, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want to be alone.”

My heart aches. “I’m here, Bakugo. I’m not going anywhere. Just talk to me.”

“I can’t,” his voice breaks off as he struggles to keep his composure, “I keep seeing it. The explosion, the screams… I can't get it out of my head.”

I throw the covers off and get out of bed, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I pull on a pair of jeans. “It’s okay, Bakugo. You’re safe now. It’s just a memory.”

“But it feels so real,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

“Listen to me,” I interrupt, “Focus on my voice. Take a deep breath, in and out. You’re not there anymore. You’re here, with me. Just breathe.”

I can hear him trying to follow my instructions, his breaths shaky. "That’s it. Keep breathing. You’re doing great.”

I quickly pull on a sweater and grab my keys. “Why does this keep happening?” he asks, “I’m supposed to be strong. I shouldn’t be like this.”

“You are strong,” I assure him, pulling on my shoes and heading for the door. “How many times a week do I call you crying? That doesn’t make me weak, does it?”

There’s a long silence, then a soft “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I lock my apartment door behind me. “I’m always here for you, Bakugo. We’ll get through this together.”

His breathing steadies further, “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Together.”

“Stay on the line with me,” I say, heading down the stairs and out into the cool night air. “I’m coming over.”

“What? You don’t have to—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“I want to,” I insist. “You don’t have to be alone right now.”

There’s a pause, then a quiet, “Okay.”

I pick up my pace, eager to get to him. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitates, “It’s just… everything’s been piling up. The expectations, the pressure… I thought I could handle it, but tonight it just… it’s just harder tonight.”

“What happened?” I ask softly, turning a corner and quickening my steps.

“Everything started flooding back. The memories… when I was a kid,” his voice wavers. “I was always told to be strong. My quirk was so powerful, everyone expected so much from me. I couldn’t show weakness, not ever. And the explosions… they weren’t always under control.”

I listen intently, offering words of comfort and encouragement as I make my way to his place. “You were just a kid, Bakugo. It wasn’t fair for them to put so much on your shoulders.”

“I know that now,” he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “But back then, every mistake felt like a failure. I couldn’t control it… I saw the fear in their eyes, the way they looked at me like I was a monster.”

“You’re not a monster,” I scold him. “You’ve grown so much since then, I mean, I am quite literally best friends with the number 3 hero.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that,” I can’t see him, but I can feel his eyes roll. “Sometimes it feels like I’m right back there. I can hear people screaming my name, begging me to save them.”

I reach his building and buzz his apartment. “You’re not alone in this anymore. We’re all here for you.”

Moments later, the door buzzes open and I hurry inside, taking the stairs two at a time. When I reach his door, it opens slowly, revealing Bakugo looking more fragile than I’ve ever seen him.

Without a word, I pull him into a hug, feeling his tension melt away as he clings to me. “Thank you,” he whispers again, his voice muffled against my shoulder.

“Anytime,” I reply softly. “I’m here for you, Bakugo. Always.”

He steps back, his eyes glassy. “I didn’t want to be weak,” he confesses, his voice barely audible.

“You’re not weak,” I assure him. “You’re human, and humans need each other. We’re stronger together.”

He nods, a small, smile forming on his lips. “Together,” he echoes.

“Now, let’s get you settled,” I say, guiding him back into his apartment.

He squeezes my hand, his grip firm and reassuring. “Thank you,” he repeats, his voice steadier now. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to find out,” I reply with a smile. “I’m your best friend for a reason.”

His smile falls, an unknown expression forming in his eyes. “Yeah, best friends.”

[my-love-is-sunlight]

Kiss

Ace x reader

fluff drabble + fem reader

“Oh god, I don’t even remember the last time I was kissed” embarrassment and booze tinted your voice as you giggled at your hopelessness, the moon hanging high above you the only witness of your statement besides your dear commander and friend

Ace’s eyebrows jump in surprise, surely you were just being modest right? You were the most beautiful person that had crossed his path, funny, clever, easy at conversation and so unique; there was no way you didn’t had people begging for your attention and at least a peck, hell he’d give everything for just one kiss of yours

“You’re joking” your face drops, that natural shyness creeping its way to your cheeks making him regret his teasing tone

“Am not” you say now serious as you balance yourself on the edge of the ship, eyes looking at the bottom of your glass in regret or embarrassment? Ace couldn’t tell since his attention was being stolen by your pouting lips “Before becoming a pirate, I only dated this one guy,”- you trailed off, your tongue running lose and a sour taste spreading at the memory.- “He was not only my last kiss but also my first”

Ace stays silent clinging at every word that leaves your pretty mouth. You’d always restrained from talking about your love life whenever the crew bring the topic to the table, staying still and quiet as you listened attentively, claiming to never having anything important to say on the matter, and he now understands why

“Do you… love him still or…?” The idea of your heart belonging to someone else made him burn, nevertheless he would understand, after all, he wasn’t that big of a deal and in his eyes you deserved better

“Absolutely not”- it’s almost comical how you were quick to answer. -“I did love him I guess once upon a time, but he wasn’t a good lover” your eyes trail off again now to look at the ocean waves crashing below, there’s certain hurt that fills your atmosphere that has Ace’s mind reeling

He wanted to show you how you deserved to be loved, every fiber of his being burning at the thought of this stupid guy taking you from granted; you alway caring and thoughtful, witty and kind heart that accompanied your otherworldly beauty that had charmed him

So lost in his thoughts he doesn’t catch how he’s looking at you heavily, eyebrows angry with a frown that makes you take a swing of your drink already hating the course of the conversation

Your voice brings him back to earth “You must think I’m a loser”- an awkward laugh follows, hanging in the air as you wished you had more alcohol to down

“NO!” Ace practically screams, immediately feeling embarrassed as your big eyes gaze at him surprised- “I respect that”

The silence that follows his statement makes you want to crawl out of your skin before the ocean takes you away and spits you out on the opposite side of the grand line, too ashamed to even walk away and run from him you remain focus on the stars twinkling above the commanders head, alike the ones that paint his face

“But if you want to change that, I could help” your vision quickly falls on him, his freckles that you had recalled before being dusted in pink, his brown orbs patiently awaiting for a response as they trace every inch of you over and over

Your breath starts to pick up speed, your breasts peeking from your shirt when you take in air that you fight to keep in but it just escapes you. Your mouth stays agape as it struggles to concoct a yes or a no, only luring the man before you like a light house in the middle of the merciless sea. You wanted this so bad like nothing ever before, your heart that laid on the hands of the fire fist the moment your eyes met now being close to combust

“Yes, I would like that” a whisper could be louder than the words that had escaped you, landing right into Ace’s heart

He can’t believe it, his ears only understanding the yes that started your sentence as the rest died before he could make them out. He had been dreaming of you so long it was almost pathetic

Your eyes stay still taking in their favorite view of each other as he walks closer caging you in, his wide frame covering you like a warm blanket against the cold sea breeze. One of his hands travels to cup your cheek, immediately melting under his touch like wax over a candle. His face shows his hesitation, afraid you are already regretting this but you immediately reassure him by hanging by his neck, your hands grasping his raven locks making him hold in a shaky breath of pleasure

His head finally falls so he can meet your lips halfway as you reach up. The moment he delicately grazes the lips he had been staring at the whole night making hi mind buzz

Ace kisses you with much feeling, basking in the way your mouth fits in his, having to stop himself from losing control of his actions as to not scare you away. Eventually as you grow more confident after feeling acquainted with the way he kisses, you let go. It becomes urgent and greedy, breaths mingling as your mouths open so you can access more of each other, a dance of lips, tongues and yearning that numbs every other sense

However, you cannot kiss forever, so it ends as Ace steps back to allow you to catch your breath, an understanding sinking in both of you as you finally realize that the thoughts and feelings that plagued you also went after him

“Let’s do that again”

Masterlist

[mermaidgirl30]

✨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

[mrsparrasblog]

I just listened to "My Tears Ricochet" and had an idea.

TW: Angst *laughs in free therapy*

So, imagine the boys need to fake their deaths. How macabre it is that they attend their own funerals, wanting to watch their loved ones. (These are standalone scenarios they don't fake their death together)

Price: You were his wife for all these years, always waiting for him to return. The funny thing was you could clearly remember the last argument before he left.

"Love, just one more tour, and I'm coming back to you. Then we can start a family and all that, but the boys need me."

"It's always the last tour with you. When is it really the last?"

"This time, I promise."

To some extent, he was right. You thought it was his last tour, but it wasn’t fair. You knew it was over when you got the call from General Shepard. Your husband was dead. You lost the love of your life, and all you got were his dog tags and a check large enough to end world hunger. You slapped your friend after she said at least you were financially secure now.

Price watched you from behind a tree. He saw how you clung to his grave, hugging it tightly and lying on it as you always used to with him. Your dress was dirty, and the tears wouldn’t come anymore.

When Laswell and Nik approached you, you screamed at them, blaming them for not protecting your husband. You trusted them, and now you couldn't bear to let anyone else near his grave. John wished he could comfort you, tell you he would come back to protect you, but he couldn’t. Instead, he sent Simon, who endured all your insults, screams, and even a punch to his crooked nose until you were ready to move on.

Kyle: You and Kyle were born on the same day, in the same room, in the same hospital. It was like a movie; he was your best friend since forever, your first everything, and you were his. It was a love like in all those movies. The only thing separating you was the military, but you stayed home waiting for him. Not even war could separate you. Last year, he brought you that ring. You remember lying in bed, cuddling him as he promised you that you were allowed to die first. He knew you wouldn’t survive his death. So he made the silly promise that you would die first. He thought it was the first promise he ever broke to you.

Kyle had to be held back when he saw you crying at his grave. “Guess I’ll find you in the next one, love. Sleep well.”

Ghost: He was never good at love, and he was sure no one would come to his funeral. No one knew "Ghost," and Simon Riley had been buried since 2009. But then he saw you, the cute medic he always tried to push away. He was afraid of hurting you or corrupting you. How could he have known that pushing you away wouldn’t stop you from loving a dead man?

All the conversations came flooding back:

"Here, Lt. I made you red velvet cookies, your favorite."

"You're going to sit down and let me fix that, idiot."

"You're beautiful, Ghost."

"You're enough."

"It's kind of silly to be in love with someone whose name you didn’t even know. I hope you find your peace, big boy." You placed lilies on his grave and left. In that moment, Simon Riley realized he was loved, and he would burn the world down to come back from the dead just to return to you.

Johnny: Contrary to popular belief among the team, Johnny wasn’t a whore. He was a loving husband and father. That was written above "Sergeant" on his grave, at least.

His funeral was crowded with people who wanted to pay their last respects. Most of them were blue-eyed MacTavishes. Then there was you, holding your three-year-old in your arms. He didn’t understand why everyone was crying or why Dad wasn’t there anymore.

Johnny watched you sit at his grave, sighing as you talked to your husband. "James doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he misses you. He wanted me to give him a mohawk. It looks ridiculous, just like you. I know you’re rocking it in heaven. Just please wait for me, okay? Don’t want you to hoe around in heaven," you chuckled, holding back the tears. "You watch us from there, right? Can’t miss the birth of your princess, can you?"

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

returning home

(cw: age gap 26/41; nsfw, mdni, smut, a bit of angst and drama, fluffiness and a lot of tears)

the part before: it's the parts of König that she didn't see

a/n: i'm sorry, this got a bit out of hand :') over 9k words, buckle in, we're in for a ride

I have been a mess those past four months. This has been the worst breakup of my life. I mean, not that I had that many partners before. And the only one I still sometimes cry after is my highschool sweetheart.

But this… we weren’t even an official thing. König and I spent a lot of time together in those few weeks, yes. But we never even clarified if we were in a relationship or not. Dating. Being exclusive. And sure, I was basically living at his place after only a week of knowing each other. But that didn’t mean anything in retrospect. Apparently.

You can’t really call in sick for a broken heart and I wasn’t able to leave my bed for a few days. Sleeping a lot, listening to all the sad love songs, barely eating. Until my mom came by, basically kicking me off my mattress. Forcing me – in a loving way – to get a grip and not mope around like a heartbroken mess.

The worst part was when I found one of his hoodies in between my stuff, I must have accidentally packed it with my clothes when I got everthing together, and it still smelled like him. It doesn't anymore because I have been wearing it nonstop when I'm at home. Not outside though, because the piece of clothing looks ridiculous on me with how big it is compared to my size. I could fit myself in there three times and the hem falls over my knees. If I press my face into the fabric, I still pick up hints of his scent. At least that’s what I tell myself.

The marks on my body faded too. The hickeys he left on my skin becoming fainter by each day, until they were gone.

I looked at all the pictures we took together. Well, more like, I took them and König is also in them. And the selfies we sent each other. The only ones I didn't keep were the filthy ones, because it felt wrong, so I deleted them. But I didn't have the heart to do that to the pictures of us, the ones that carried the memories. And it stopped hurting as much over time. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Lying in bed. The one he bought and we built together, because he broke mine. It's unfair, really, because he is gone and I can't escape him still. Repeating his words to me in my mind.

You should be with someone your age.

It never had been a topic for me, not something I would've spent a second thought on, at least not like this. But apparently, it had been on his mind.

Someone who can promise you that they'll come back every time.

And in the back of my mind there is still the little voice that wishes that he would just have had the guts to be with me. Despite the possibility of him not coming back in one piece, leaving me to mourn him. Because like this, he isn't in my life either. And I still worry about him, because there is no way for me to know that he still is in this life.

He didn't even want to hear my side of things. Or maybe he wanted to, but I was just too blindsided by it all, frozen in place as he “broke up” with me.

Afterwards, when I thought about what he said, I wanted to scream. To shout at him. Even if I could never really do that. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask him, what the fuck he was thinking. Why the fuck he was thinking that.

Fuck. I’m so sorry, Liebes.

His apologies didn’t help either. Because I wanted to be mad at him. I was mad at him, and I still am. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Because even though I get it - I get what he was telling me - I still don’t fully understand.

And I remember the look on his face as he was crouched before me. When it became painfully clear that I couldn’t read him.

I never meant for this to go this far or… this deep.

Well, I didn’t either. But it did. And he left, even though he felt the same way. Or at least so I thought.

After a few weeks I finally feel better. I’m okay with how it is. That’s what I tell myself.

Not at all ready to go out on dates again. Not that there is any rush. Not that there had been that many occasions, but still. The thought alone of being with somebody that's not him…

I get back to work, meet my friends, hang out with my family, and when they ask me how I’m doing, I can convincingly tell them I’m okay.

Almost every night the thing on my mind before I fall asleep is him. Nothing, but him, and how I wish he was lying right next to me. I still just want him to come back.

And I know I’m not making any sense. It’s just gonna take some more time to get over this.

When I wake up one morning and see the messages on my phone, I don't even realize what they mean at first.

I'm coming back tomorrow I don't deserve you, but if there's any chance that you'd want to see me again... I’m landing at the airfield in [REDACTED], at 1130 I'm sorry, and I understand if you've moved on or maybe we can talk sometime this week if you're busy whatever works for you or maybe you don’t want to talk to me at all which is fine as well, of course just let me know in Liebe, König

I blink, reading the messages over and over again. The little incoherent ramble until it finally clicks. He's coming back.

I groan, putting the phone away, hiding my face in my hands. Contemplating what I should do as the possibility of seeing him again churns in my stomach. And all the emotions come flooding back, tears pricking in the corner of my eye. God damn it.

Men and women are disembarking from the aircraft and I crane my neck, looking for him.

I’ve been waiting here for some time cause they were running late. And I’m not the only one, there are quite a bunch of people waiting. Probably families and partners? They all seemed relaxed, at least more relaxed than me.

I’m hopping from one leg to the other, my hands feel a little clammy as I knead them. And honestly, I’m a little nauseous.

More people in gear than I would have thought come off the plane, meeting up with their relatives, mingling with each other or just leaving.

I already fear that I completely misunderstood his messages, but that couldn’t have been possible, right? Maybe I shouldn't have come here, and just told him I’ll see him some time this week, maybe I shou-

Two more figures emerge from the cargo hold, coming down the ramp. I don’t recognize the man on the right, but the one on the left…

Beige cargo-pants, protectors on the knees and shins. A simple longsleeved shirt, black of course, and a bulletproof vest. Gloves and more protectors on his arms. The band of bright red beads around his wrist.

The mask, the hood fashioned out of simple fabric, red streaks down underneath the eyeholes, held in place by the helmet atop his head. Hiding his face away.

Fuck.

I only saw a picture of him in gear once, when he showed me, but I still would have recognized him instantly. His tall build, the attitude with which he carries himself, gives him away. This get-up can’t hide it.

He stills. Frozen in place, and from the distance I can’t make out anything.

I just stand there, unsure if he already saw me. And I lift my hand, just a little wave, before I drop it again.

Shit, maybe I should have told him that I was coming.

But then he starts running towards me. A slight jog at first, his strides getting longer with every step. I can’t just stand here either, my legs almost moving on their own.

Dropping the bag that hung over his shoulder. His gloved hands are fumbling with his helmet, until he gets it off, just throwing it away, and pulling of the mask too, and when I see his face for the first time in month, I feel tears prick in the corner of my eyes. Running a little faster, only a few meters between us now. The skin around his eyes is smeared with eyeblack, his long hair is clinging to his head, as he also gets rid of the balaclava, just pushing it down, so it sits around his neck, and then…

He stops, just a step before me, not to run me over, but I don’t, jumping up, jumping into his arms, the full impact of my body against his not moving the big guy a little bit. I’m clinging onto his shoulders as he catches me in his embrace. I’m burying my face in his neck, and when his scent hits my nostrils, a little sharper than usual, gunpowder and sweat mixing with his warm soothing scent, the tears flow free, staining his balaclava, wetting his cheeks. Sobs are shaking me as he presses me against him, my legs hugging around his waist.

“I missed you so fucking much.”, he says, his deep voice shaky, and I can’t even answer because it just makes me cry more. “Ssssh, Liebes. Don’t cry.”, he tries to comfort me, but hearing his favourite term of endearment only lets the tears flow freely. “I didn’t wanna make you cry.”

“To-oo late for - that.”, I press out between two sobs.

“I’m so sorry, fuck.”, he sighs, his arms closing even tighter around me. “I don't know how I will ever make it up to you.” His gloved hand is softly caressing down my back.

“I missed you too.”, I finally manage to say, my voice thick with tears, pressing myself against him, and I never wanna let go.

But I need to pull back, only a little, just to look at him again. Touch him. Convince myself that this is real.

My vision is blurred, but that’s still him, his face so close to mine. His gaze intently on me, while one of my hands grabs him, my fingers caressing over his jaw, the stubble a little longer than I’m used to, the smudged black colour around the eye area making him look a little different. He leans into my palm, the eyebrows pulling up and the tension melting away.

His hand cups mine, his thumb softly caressing over it, such soft touches and another small sob is shaking me.

“I don’t want to overstep anything.”, he whispers. “But I would really like to kiss you.”

And I nod, not able to speak the words yet. And before he can lean in, I already press my lips to his. When my mouth meets his, and I taste the saltiness of my tears intermingling with his scent, the wave of relief that floods me is indescribable.

It's as soft as I remember, something that always surprised me. How soft his kisses are.

The way his lips press against mine, like he's searching for something, tasting me. Nipping at my lower lip, his nose rubbing against mine. His stubble scratching over my skin as he tilts his head.

He presses kisses to the corner of my mouth, my cheeks, my nose. All over my face, slowly drying up my tears, and I take a deep breath, calming myself down. He really is back.

When I finally take a look around, I realise that we’re off to the side a bit, but not that far away from the others on the tarmac, so… this must be quite the spectacle for his colleagues and the people who waited for them. Some of them are in tight hugs or talking with the civilians, but some are also looking in our direction, every once in a while. I don't have any time to feel self-conscious though, about being a teary mess.

And the guy who disembarked the aircraft with König comes our way, a little hesitantly, but smiling at us both.

“Köni.”, he says in a deep, but friendly voice, omitting the g in his name.

“Horangi.”, König says, setting me down, but keeping me close by his side, and I wouldn’t have moved an inch away.

The man in front of us is dressed in green and beige camo, quite different from what the big guy is wearing except for the pants. A similarly coloured balaclava around his neck and sporty sunglasses on his head, sitting on top of it in his hair, complete the look.

“I heard so much about you.”, he says lightly, addressing me.

“You did?” My eyebrows shoot up, almost colliding with my hairline.

He nods, grinning, not fazed at all by the threatening stare from König. “Yes. Every time he drank just a little too much, he wouldn't shut up about you.”, Horangi says. “You did a number on the guy.”

I don't know what to say to that at first, honestly a little gobsmacked. “I did?”

“Yeah, yeah, now fuck off.”, König says to Horangi, patting the other man’s back, the frown on his face turning into a grumpy smile.

“See ya, Colonel.”, he says with a grin. “Enjoy your leave.”, adding a little joking salute, before stomping off.

I wave after him, confused for a moment. Colonel?

“Don't mind him.”, König grumbles as I turn to him again, but he doesn't look mad in the slightest bit. “He doesn't know how to behave sometimes.”

My arms closing around his waist, and he repositions me a bit, so the straps on his bullet proof vest don’t press into my cheek.

“So, you really did miss me.”, I say pulling him tighter. Not a question, a statement.

“I did.”, he answers almost solemn as he brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face.

Some of the soldiers are still standing around, talking to each other and the people around them, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

“They’re still looking.”, I whisper to him, unsure what that means.

“Yeah, cause they’re all seeing my face.”, he whispers back, smiling down at me.

Right, the hood!

“Oh shit, I forgot about the mask thing.”, I say, my hand clasping over my mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine.”, he says softly. “They'll survive seeing my face. And I will too.”

“Right, still.”

“Don’t worry about it. I asked you to come here.” He pauses for a moment. “More on a whim, cause I didn’t really think you actually would.”

I take a deep breath. “To be honest, until this morning I didn’t know either.” My eyes pan up to meet his. When I woke up, I knew that I wanted to see him. But only when I got into my car, I called into work to take a personal day off and instead drove here.

“I’m glad you did.”, he says, holding my gaze.

“Me too.”, I whisper back.

“Cause Horangi was right. I was miserable.”

Just like I was. “Really?”, I ask him again, almost soundlessly.

“I was fucking miserable without you.”, he repeats, picking me up again and pressing another kiss to my lips.

I think I don't wanna leave his embrace ever again. But we still have stuff to talk about. Stuff to sort out. And we really can't do that here.

Plus his kisses have their usual effect. As the emotional turmoil and tears dissipate, a familiar feeling spreads through my body, my lower belly tensing up.

“You’re here in your car?”, he asks quietly in between two more kisses. Getting more desperate.

“Yeah.”, I say. “I parked it around the corner.”

“Okay, you wanna get out of here then?”

I just nod, kissing him again, and his little hum against my lips lets tingles erupt all over me. Then we're out of here.

Not before picking up his helmet and hood that he shed on the way, me still in his arms, getting his duffle bag, and I can’t help the little giggle escaping me, because he refuses to set me down when he bends down. Carrying me like I weigh nothing, also not willing to leave my side even for a moment.

On the way to the car, it gets even a little more heated and I’m glad when we turn the corner, hiding away from other eyes.

He’s taking huge strides, heading right for my car, that he spotted in an instant, the small silver one.

My fingers are tangled in his hair, his hands grabbing my ass and thighs, and I pull the car key out my pocket and unlock it. He opens the car door, lying me down on the cushioned seat and I scoot back to make room for him.

Reminders flood my brain how we did it in the back of his car, much bigger than the Toyota I drive. It’s way too small for him, but that doesn’t stop us.

I push off my shoes and get my pants off quickly as he climbs in over me, his shoulders pressing up against the roof of the car, while he sheds his protectors and gloves and shuts the door behind him.

A moment later, I’m folded in half, my knees against my chest, the feet up in the air brushing against the frame of the car. His hands gripping my thighs, spreading me for him.

König is eating me out like a starved man, soft mewls and grunts dropping from his lips, the vibrations of them against my sensitive skin.

“Oh fuck.”, I groan.

His hair is falling over his face, but I just want to see him, brushing the strands back. His gaze burning into me as he looks up at me, the eyeblack giving him a rugged look.

Desperately licking me, my juices glistening all over the lower part of his face. The stubble that is longer than usual is scratching against the insides of my thighs, but I don’t care about that right now, in the contrary, the soft scratch right there makes me even hotter.

It’s him. in this get-up, a little different than I was used to, but it’s him.

When he slips his fingers into me, his lips closing around my clit, sucking on the sensitive bud, something that always made me lose my mind fast, and this is no exception.

The way he fills me up, his thick digits stretching me. His tongue working my pussy, knowing exactly what makes me cry out. His mouth wandering, littering my inner thigh with kisses and hickeys.

The bites and nibbles send shivers down my body, my hips rutting forward, pushing my pussy into him. His arm comes over tummy, holding me in place, so I can't escape his touches.

“Yes, please, just-”, I sigh, and I can feels how he curls his fingers inside me, hitting just the right spot.

I come around them, my cries a bit too loud in my own ears in the small space, and I almost bump my head into the car door behind me as he doesn’t let up, but dives in again. His tongue is toying with my clit, dragging over it, slow, broad licks, and my body shakes and convulses.

“König…”, I plead, my hand tangled in his hair.

He finally pulls back a bit, still lapping everything up, even putting his own fingers in his mouth. His lips closing around them, his lids fluttering for just a moment.

“You taste so fucking good, Kleine.”, he whispers, not breaking eye contact as he meticulously licks my arousal off them, and I can’t help the blush on my face, especially when his tongues darts through between them. Fuck.

Instead of an answer, I pull him into me, to kiss him again, tasting myself on his lips, my hands dropping to his belt, fumbling with the clasp. I want more. I want him.

“Wait.”, he says, his hand coming over mine, I can feel the lingering wetness on them, and I still for a moment. “Shouldn’t we like…”

“You…. don’t want to?”

"No, of course I do, Liebes… I just want to do it right, you know? Make it right. In a proper bed."

I pull one of my eyebrows up. He thinks about that now after eating me out. "We can still do that later, no worries."

"But- I-"

"Yeah, that's all really noble, but right now I just need you." I kiss him again. "So shut up and fuck me. Please.", I say, still fumbling with his belt.

“I don’t have any condoms with me.”, he says, still not helping me to get his gear off.

I pull up an eyebrow. “And?” We did it raw many times, why would it be…

"Did you not... You didn't...?", he stammers, his eyes searching mine.

And then it dawns on me. "If you're gonna ask, if I slept with somebody else in the meantime, I suggest you don't. Because I fucking didn't." Adding after a moment’s pause: “Did you?”

"Fuck, no.”, he answers without hesitation, but his whole body is still shaken with agitation. “Fuck, I'm sorry, I just-" His hand strokes through his hair, exasperated, straightening up a bit and almost hitting his head on the roof of the car.

"König."

He stills, his eyes on me again and I can see the turmoil in them.

"I didn't want anybody else, I just wanted you back.", I say, my voice a little shaky. "And now that I've got you back, I just need to feel you. We can talk and do all the other stuff after getting home, okay?"

Home. The word slipped over my lips before I could think about it. It's out there before I can take it back.

He doesn't move a bit, just looks at me incredulously, and my hand shoots out to grab him which pulls him from his thoughts.

“I do not fucking deserve you.”, he whispers, and then it all happens very quickly. Pulling the zipper down and getting his dick out, the tip slipping between my folds.

He doesn't wait a moment longer and we both groan in unison when he slides into me, and the familiar feeling floods me, the stretch deliciously making me squirm.

Yet my eyes don't leave his for even a moment, not daring to close them, in case this is still a dream and he did not really come back.

But when he grasps my chin, tilting it up and leaning down to press his lips to mine, the tears that have been welling up again roll down my cheeks, the wetness blurring my vision.

I wipe them away, aggressively, a little mad at myself that I just can't stop crying. “Fuck, just… I-” I sigh. “Those fucking tears.”

He’s not saying anything, his thumb brushing over my cheek, a soothing gesture. His lips are peppering kisses all over my face as he starts to fuck me, slowly and sweetly.

I look down to where we are connected, seeing him push into me, seeing and feeling his dick slip into me. As deep as he can go.

With the position I’m in, folded in half, my belly is bulging with every thrust, just a bit, but still. And when he bottoms me out, time after time after time, I inadvertently squeeze around him.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”, he groans.

He’s not fucking me fast, more hard and deep. The sound of skin against skin when his lap collides with the plush of my thighs, loud and quite heavy. And I’m underneath him, framed by his strong arms, holding onto them.

Every single one of his thrusts lets a moan slip out of me, especially with how his pubic bone is pressing up against my sensitive clit, over and over again.

My breath hits his face, the look on it still a little incredulous, the almost enamored smile.

His breath is getting heavier too, rattling grunts shaking his chest. I wanna feel them, I wanna feel his rapid heartbeat against my fingertips. My hand slips under his vest, the other one holding onto it. The soft fabric of his compression shirt is warm, feeling his heartbeat strum against the palm of my hand, as I look up at him. Back in one piece. Alive.

The telltale signs how close he is are written on his face. The breath that halts in his throat every so often. The way his jaw drops. His brows draw together, not his usual frown, the ever-present scowl. Ecstasy visible on his features. And his eyes pressing together, for just a moment.

Looking down at me again, he’s still fucking me, my knees pressed up against my chest, his propped-up arms carrying most, but not all of his weight. My fingers are grabbing his bulletproof vest, needing him closer. The buttons of his waistband and the belt pressing into my ass with every thrust.

But all those sensations get overtaken when my second orgasm washes over me abruptly, just holding onto him, and I can’t keep my eyes open anymore, when he doesn’t stop. The pushes of his hips, how he rolls them into me, getting a little more desperate, almost losing the rhythm, as I clench around him.

He’s buried deep inside me, filling me up when he comes, and groans drop from his lips. His face contorting in pleasure. I missed his stupid face, and apparently I also missed his O-face.

He takes a big breath, backing off a bit, giving me a moment to reposition my legs. When his dick slips out of me, I sigh, feeling a bit empty and the wetness against my stomach as it rests over it.

His big heavy body slumps over me, and we just stay like that for a while. Cheek to cheek. My arms around his neck, his hands softly caressing down my body.

Maybe I could even stay like this forever.

Again I remember the time we did it on the backseat of his car, that was much more spacious. Half an eternity ago. Only the second time we ever did it.

Softly kissing now and then. The little sounds and our breath the only thing in the calm silence around us, until he breaks it.

“Can I take you home?”

“Yes.”, I answer without hesitation. We still have some stuff to sort out, and we should get going.

He’s zipping himself up, I put on my pants again, his cum seeping into my panties now, but I don’t even care and get into the driver’s seat, the doors close behind us.

And for once he is in the passenger’s seat, my car still way too small for the big man. It’s almost ridiculous how his stature fills the car. He almost has to duck his head like this, even without the helmet, dwarfing the whole space.

I chuckle a little, put on some music and start driving.

“So Colonel, huh?”, I ask him, pulling an eyebrow up.

“Yeah.”, he says, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know why I never told you.”

“It’s okay.”, I say. “I guess, that doesn’t really matter in the civilian life.”

“It doesn’t.”, he agrees. “But it also feels like I wasn’t fully honest with you. Which is shitty.”

I clasp my hand over his for a moment, squeezing his fingers. A little reassurance. I don't care about his rank cause it doesn't change anything anyway, and I also never bothered to ask.

“So, I wouldn't get in trouble for insubordination if I called you Sir and not Colonel?”, I ask him, teasingly.

His brows furrow, that certain look in his eyes like always when I was being bratty - and I missed that too.

“You won't.”, he grumbles.

I can't help the little laugh. “Good to know.”

I look to the side, and there he is. It’s him, even in this get-up, it’s him. In my car.

And he’s grinning back at me, not as bright as I was used to, but still. I shake my head as I look back onto the street. He really is back.

I pull into the driveway, the sight of his house alone pulling at my heartstrings. The heavy feeling hits me, the lightheartedness I felt before taking a little hit, even before turning the motor off, getting out the car and heading inside.

He unlocks the door and goes inside, putting down the duffle bag, as I follow him. I stand around a little unsure, taking my shoes off, before heading to the living room.

When I see the couch, I have to swallow my emotions down, not ready to cry again. The memories come rushing back and I just need a moment to take it all in.

Heavy steps behind me, warmth emanating from his body. His presence so tangible, even when he’s not touching me. I’m still so tuned into him.

And I turn.

God damn, I almost forgot how big he is. He fills the doorframe that has been fit to his height. His shoulders seeming even broader in his gear. His head almost grazing the top of the frame.

And I have to tilt my head back to look up at him. We just stand here for a moment.

“I need to shower.. you, uh-”, he starts.

“I’m just gonna wait here, okay?”

He nods. “Yes, of course.” He hands me his phone. “You wanna order something to eat in the meantime? For us.”

“I can do that.”

“Pick whatever you like.”, he tells me before rushing up the stairs with huge strides, taking his bag with him.

I sigh and take a seat at the dinner table we barely ever used. Not daring to sit on the couch like I usually would have.

Unlocking his phone, only clicking on the delivery app, of course. Searching for his favourite take-out place, the grill with the nice little garden out back.

Does he deserve it? I don't know, maybe not. But I'm not gonna be petty over food. I’m adding another dessert for myself, though.

After I placed the order, I put his phone away, picking up mine instead. Scrolling on the usual apps, waiting because I don't know what else to do. He’s taking longer than I’m used to for the shower. And I can feel myself getting a bit restless. My mind coming back to the things he said. When he broke up with me and then today when he came back.

Heavy steps are coming down the stairs, him emerging in a get up I’m more used to, a simple black shirt and shorts.

His hair is still a bit wet, clinging to him in strands. He’s freshly shaved too, the stubble he had before gone. And I can smell the clean and sharp tone of his after-shave when he walks up to me.

“Food will be here soon.”, I tell him, because I don’t know what else to say.

“Okay, thank you.”

“Your favorite.”

“You didn't need to do that.”

“I know.” I hand him back his phone. “And I didn't snoop through it or anything.”

He nods, acknowledging my comment. “I trust you.” He steps a bit closer, taking it. “But you wouldn't have found anything noteworthy either. My phone is embarrassingly empty.” He looks up from the device, to me, a lopsided wry smile adorning his face. “Mostly work emails and photos of you I couldn't bring myself to delete.”

“Yeah?”

He nods.

“What’s the other stuff?”

“Photos of Mimi.” His smile is turning into a grin.

“That little minx. I should have known.”, I say exasperated, but jokingly.

He’s still standing there, swaying from one foot to the other ever so slightly, and almost wanna tell him to just sit down.

“I thought about calling you. I just didn't know what to say.”, he says, his voice quiet. “I wasn't even sure you'd pick up.”

“I don't know if I could have handled talking to you over the phone.”, I say carefully, but honestly. I probably wouldn’t have picked up.

He just nods. “I understand.”

“I actually didn’t know what to think when you texted me.”, I continue. “It was a lot. After a few months of no bleep, no nothing.”

“I wanted to text you. I just chickened out every time.”, he says. “But Horangi kicked some sense into me.”

“Does he do that often?”, I ask, biting back a grin, when remembering the conversation with him earlier. How he basically snitched on him, painting the a bit pathetic picture of drunk König who missed me so much that he wouldn't shut up about me. After he broke up with me of his own volition.

He tilts his head to the side, grudgingly admitting: “Sometimes.”

“And we all need friends like that sometimes.”, I say.

He laughs a little and confesses. “Yeah, he actually helped me phrase the messages because I just didn’t know how I-” He breaks off. “I meant everything I said though.” His eyes find mine again. “I would've understood if you didn't have time or if you just didn't wanna see me. But I still had to try. And I meant it earlier, when I said that I’m glad you came.”

The look on his face, almost pleading. And I feel the same way, but being here with him still feels a little… overwhelming.

“I-”

The doorbell ringing disrupts our conversation. He turns and hurries to the door. I can hear him talk to the delivery person as I get up and hurry to the kitchen to get plates and cutlery.

We’re both coming back a few moments later, setting everything down on the dinner table, taking a seat next to each other. Opening up the containers of food, laying everything out. Loading our plates up, my stomach grumbling. I hadn’t eaten all day, too anxious and nervous. I dig in, taking spoonsfuls of the veggies with rice, and I feel how his eyes are on me, how he’s watching me.

I meet his eyes when he breaks the silence again.

“I missed your birthday, didn't I?”, he asks, but judging from the look on his face he already knows the answer.

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.”, I say, nodding.

“Now there's ‘only’ 15 years between us.”, he says, matter-of-factly.

“There are.”, I agree. “But it doesn’t matter. 15, 16, what’s the difference.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

I put my fork down for a moment and just tell him outright what I have been thinking: “When I teased you, it was never about that. Our age difference never was an issue for me, you know. But I will never call you an old man again, if there is a chance that you will throw it in my face like that.” I pause. “Again.”

“I’m not gonna do that - again.”, he reassures me.

“Good.” I take a deep breath. “If I had known that this was plaguing you, I could have put your mind at ease. Or at least tried.”

“It’s not on you.”, he says with a sigh, his hand dragging over his face for just a moment, rubbing over his eyes. I can feel the frustration emanating off him. “I just- I tried to hide it.” Like he also tried to hide it when he had shit days. I wanna grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

“I figured. Because the whole… conversation came out of nowhere for me.”

“Yeah, I felt like such an asshole afterwards. I went about it the most blunt way. The whole thing anyway… it was a mistake.”, he continues, point-blank. “And I’m sorry for that.”

If we had this talk only weeks after he left, I would have been so mad still. The distance helped. It's also helping right now. Acknowledging that it had been a mistake, it doesn't make the "break up"-thing go away. But I feel like I still needed to hear that.

“It’s okay.”, I whisper.

He shakes his head. “It’s not.”, he says. “It wasn’t okay.”

“I know.” I reach for him, our fingers intertwining, my thumb softly caressing over the back of his hand. Our eyes meet and I can see his emotions in them, clearer than ever before. Not trying to hide them anymore. And I understand. A little smile stalks onto my face.

“Let’s just eat, okay?”

And I never have to tell him that twice.

After we finished up, he carries the plates and leftovers to the kitchen, refusing my help, and I finally take a seat on the big couch, slumping into the cushions.

König emerges in the doorframe, just standing there. Frozen in place. I put my phone down and for a moment we just look at each other. The same familiarity hits me, but the guilty look on his face tells me why he’s not moving an inch closer.

It's a bit ridiculous. We fucked, we ate together, we talked about some of the shit that went down. He apologized - again.

I softly pat the cushion beside me. “Come here.”

He’s taking a few steps, hesitatingly approaching and sitting down. But he stops there. I look up at him from the side, and I have never seen him so unsure. It's almost a little sweet.

Grabbing him, I pull him down to me and he just lets me. Positioning his head in my lap, cradling his face, and he lies down the feet dangling over the side of the couch. When my hand caresses over his chest, he sighs. Relaxing into the cushions. I can almost hear the weight drop from his shoulders as he melts into my touch. His hand clinging onto my arm. His brows turning up as he looks up at me.

For a moment we just sit in silence and I let the calmness flood me that his proximity brings. Playing with the long strands of his hair. Softly straightening out the waves that always form when they are freshly washed. Looking down at him.

“I don’t fucking deserve you.”, he whispers.

And there it is again. That sentence. It bothered me when I read it in the messages he sent. And then when he uttered them today.

I grab his face and make him look at me. Squishing his cheeks. “Don’t say that.”, I tell him, my voice trembling. “Don’t fucking say that.”

He stills, his eyes flitting between mine, his mouth dropping open a little.

“I didn’t- I…” I’ve almost never seen him speechless, but today every time I’ve said something that he seemingly didn’t expect he just looked at me like that.

“You think it's flattering or whatever. It’s not.”, I say, exasperated. “It’s like I’m on a fucking pedastal. It doesn’t make me fucking feel good, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. I don’t need anymore “sorry”s from him. “You already thought that before you broke up with me, didn’t you?”

He hesitates for a moment before nodding. Silence between us as I only look at him, reading what’s in his eyes.

“Beating yourself up over this isn’t gonna make either of us feel better. I don’t want you to grovel like a beaten dog. I just want you to be honest with me what’s going on in this thick head of yours.” Tapping on said thick head.

“Yeah, you fucking hurt me by just dropping me off in my flat and fucking off because you thought it was the right thing for both of us. I don’t need you to think for me. I just need you to talk to me.” Damn, I’m laying into him right now, but I fear otherwise I’m not gonna get through the thickheaded stubborness.

“I didn’t mean to go over your head like I did. I was too in my own head already, so it was the only thing that made sense to me.”, he says as calmly as he manages. “I thought it was the right thing for you.”

“Because you didn’t deserve me anyways and I would be better off with someone else, right?”, I summarize. I can’t help but sound a little bitter. And I realise now that that was the thing that hurt me the most.

He nods again.

I feel the jab in my heart. Not knowing what to say to that. It's not nice to have the person you're with express the sentiment that you should be with someone else. Well, it’s pretty fucking far from nice.

He casts his eyes down, fidgeting with his wristband, not daring to look at me. And I can practically feel his self-deprecation prickling at my fingertips, the hand still lying on his chest, clearer than ever before.

“I thought I would be selfish to have you wait for me. And I realised that the opposite is true. I was a coward, I just fucking ran away.”, he sighs, and I can hear the shame in his voice.

His hand clasps over mine, squeezing my fingers.

“You did.”, I simply say.

“And it didn’t fucking solve anything.” He laughs, a barking joyless laugh. “For the first time in a long time it was worse without someone else, you know.” He pauses for a moment, finally looking up at me again. You don't need to be Sherlock to know who he's talking about.

I nod, swallowing back my emotions again, squeezing his hand back. “And it didn’t have to be like this.”

“Fuck. I know, I just- wanna kick myself every time I think about it.” An exhausted and frustrated sigh rising up from deep in his chest. “I don't know what I can say to make it all okay again. I don't know what to tell you to-”

“Just show me.”, I interrupt him before he can go down that spiral. He stills

“I’m gonna make it up to you, I swear.” His hand grabs mine a bit tighter. Pulling it up to his face and pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

I nod, a little smile stalking onto my face. “Okay, good.”, I say, adding a “And don't ever say you're undeserving again.”

“I won't.”

“Thank you.” I lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips, and he answers it like it holds the promise he just made.

When I pull back, I don’t get far cause he is cradling my cheek, not letting me go anywhere.

“Did anybody ever tell you that it’s hot when you get all bossy like that?”, he whispers, a small grin forming on his face.

“Yeah?”, I say, tongue in cheek. “You like getting ripped to shreds?”

“Only by you, Hexe.” which makes me laugh. “But I deserved it too.”, he says.

“You did a little bit.”, I say graciously, and we both laugh.

We just stay like this for a while, holding hands, and I can take a deep breath feeling most of the weight drop away from me that I felt walking into the living room.

He turns to the side, his cheek pressing against my belly as his arms close around me, around my waist. As close as he can get.

I’m brushing his hair out of his face, playing with it. Massaging his neck and shoulders, softly caressing.

He almost falls asleep like that, and I don't think I’ve ever seen him so peaceful. Deep calm breaths. Not a wrinkle on his forehead as I brush over it with my thumb. His eyebrows are turned up. Not even a hint of a frown on his face.

He grabs my hand, pressing sweet kisses to my fingers. “Stay with me.”, he whispers. “Please.”

“You sure?”, I ask.

He nods, not letting go of me. “I just want my bed and you in it, like I dreamed about those last few weeks. So… please?”

And it finally sinks in that the break was just as painful for him as it had been for me. Because I dreamed of the same thing. “Okay.”

He doesn't need anything else, just gets up off the couch, picking me up as well.

I can't help the giggle rising up my throat when my legs close around his hips and my lips find his neck, kissing the sensitive spots, the ones that always make him shiver. My fingertips are digging into his shoulders. The soft lingering touches I know will get him riled up.

He hums. “Glad to see that your ass is still as bratty as before.”, he grumbles, but he can't hide the grin as he playfully places the tiniest spank on said butt.

“Never.”, I tell him before he kicks open the bed room and lies me down on the bed.

We both scramble to get rid of our clothes, pulling them off quickly. He crawls over me, his dick nudging against my pussy while he settles between my thighs and his lips land on mine. His long hair falls over me like a veil, the tips tickling my naked skin.

His hand drops down, his fingers rubbing over my clit as he pushes into me. Carefully enough. And I sigh taking him in.

His mouth is coasting over my neck, making me shiver as he kisses, nibbles and bites. Leaving marks where anyone can see. Licking the sensitive skin, his tongue drawing wet tracks over it. His heavy breath hitting the shell of my ear as he pulls my head back and sucks on the sensitive spot right beneath it.

My fingers are digging into his shoulders and back, his muscles, leaving my own marks with my nails. Dropping down further until I grab his asscheeks, pulling him into me.

He chuckles, pushing deeper, his thrusts picking up pace. I arch my back to meet his movements, my chest against his, the sensations making me throw my head back.

His hand catches my chin, and he’s telling me: “Look at me, Liebes, please just look at me.”

My eyes meet his, a satisfied deep hum rising up his throat. And I never felt more at the center of anybody's attention than in that moment.

He turns, and suddenly I’m on top, riding him, my hands placed on his hairy chest. Slowly sliding up and down his length. One of his arms around my waist, the other on my ass guides me. I almost can't handle it, the way he fills me up in this position, his tip nudging against my cervix. But fuck. I have missed this.

Not just the sex. The closeness. The familiarity. Him.

König looks up at me, the same look on his face that I have seen a few times today, the one that I still can’t quite place what it means. But I love when he looks at me like that. If the warm fuzzy feeling in my chest is any indication.

We spend the rest of the day in bed, talking, fucking, listening to music, sometimes almost dozing off. Until it’s late, almost a bit too late.

My head is resting against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady, his legs entangled with mine. His burly tattooed arms embracing me, pulling me against him. His cheek resting atop my forehead with the way I’m nuzzled into the crook of his neck, so his hair is tickling me when he moves a bit.

His body all around me, with nowhere else to go.

I didn’t like sleeping like this ever before I got to know him. But I really don’t mind anymore. I really don’t.

When I open my eyes the next morning, I need a moment to catch up where I am. König’s bedroom. In his bed, the soft sheets against my naked skin. I stretch a little and turn to the side, expecting to find him still fast asleep. But I’m greeted with a smile on his face, his eyes on me. Wide awake already.

“Good morning, Liebes.”, he says softly, catching my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it, and I have to swallow to not instantly burst into tears.

“Hi.”, I answer, trying a little wobbly smile.

His hand shoots out and he caresses over my cheek. A simple gesture, one he did so many times before, but right now it has me crying again.

“Oh Liebes.”, he coos as he sees the tear rolling down my face.

“I swear, I don't wanna cry! I must be getting my period or something.”, I grumble while he presses kisses to my cheeks, softly kissing away the tears.

“I’m gonna make you laugh and come twice as much for every time you cried.”, he says, and the twinkle in his eyes tells me that he is joking, yet at the same time seeming earnest.

I break out in laughter. “That would be a lot of jokes and a lot of orgasms.”, I gasp out, wiping the wetness from my cheeks.

He leans down and gives me a kiss. “That’s okay. Cause I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls back a bit.

“Don't make any promises you can't keep.”, I say.

“I wouldn’t.”, he says, his voice serious and his gaze soft. “I promise.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“Now let me start with it. I already got a laugh out of you.”

“You insatiable man. Let me go get my teeth brushed first or-”

“No time!”, he exclaims, pulling away the blanket, to position himself between my legs.

I burst into laughter again, the sounds turning into moans when he pulls away my panties and puts his mouth on me.

“Another laugh… that means I need to keep up with the orgasms.”, he quips, mischief lighting up his eyes as his tongue dips into me.

I sigh, snuggling myself back into the comfy sheets, grinding my hips against his face. Meticulously he eats me out, getting all sloppy with it.

His hands are grabbing the swells of my ass, my legs over his shoulders, until he is buried between my thighs. They are littered with all the marks he left there. Faint bites and hickeys. And he’s leaving even more. Oh god, I missed them.

He spits once before his fingers push into me, soft squelching when he fills me up. I’m still a little sleepy, yawning once while I stretch. Meeting his movements and touches.

“Feels so good.”, I tell him, and a little smile forming on his lips as I look down at him.

“Yeah?”, he quips, his thumb rubbing over my clit while he fingerfucks me, slow and deliberately.

I barely can hold the eye contact, almost a little shy, although we did this what feels like a million times. “Yeah.”

He slips his fingers out of me, taking over with his mouth again. I feel the wetness on his fingers as he grabs my thigh again, his fingertips pressing into the plush.

In the time apart nothing had changed about this. It still feels like he has memorized every little part of me, which buttons to push to make me cry out.

His own moans and grunts give away just how much he enjoys this, and I don’t think I will ever get enough of him. Seeing how his hips restlessly move, almost fucking into the mattress, while his tongue dips into me, fucking into me, over and over again, it does something to me as well.

When he nips at my clit, I jolt, my hips lifting off the mattress, but he doesn’t let me go anywhere. Repeating the same move and I come on his face. My back arching, my fingers grabbing at the sheets, curses dropping from my lips.

With a deep breath I look at him again, the big man still very comfortable between my legs, his chin and lips glistening with moisture before he wipes it away.

“And that’s the first one.”, he says with a little grin, and I can’t help the little laugh.

I sit up and grab him. “Yeah, but it’s your turn now.”, I tell him as I pull him up to me, needing him closer.

A wry smile adorns his face. “I’m sorry, Liebes, I already...”

“You… what?”, I ask a little dumbfounded. Looking down while he sits back on his knees, his tummy all sticky, coated in his come. The sheets beneath him soiled, like he humped himself to completion spilling all over them, while eating me out. My jaw drops. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

This man. The lop-sided smirk, making him look younger than he is. The long hair all messy. Not ashamed in the slightest that he came like that, just eating me out.

“Just give me a few minutes, okay?” He grins down at me as he crawls over me. “And maybe a shower.”

“But I need to get to work!”, I tell him.

“Who said, you'll ever leave this house again?”

“König!”

“I’m keeping you.”, he says, like a definite statement, while he scoops me up and tosses me over his shoulder.

“Brute.”, I say poutily while I can't hold back my giggles.

He just laughs, grabbing my ass as he carries me to the bathroom. “Gonna fuck you in the shower, two birds with one stone. Still need to make you come one more time.”, he lays out his plan.

And I could never say no to that, could I?

We manage to be on time though, even drinking a coffee in the kitchen together, and then he drives me to work.

He also picks me up again, not ready to spend any possible moment apart.

The stupidest biggest grin stalks onto my face when I head out of the office and see his car already parked, faint drum and bass sounds penetrating through. I run up to it and open the door, recognizing the song as Shadow of Intent’s ‘Oudenophobia’, one of the songs I showed him some time ago.

I get into the passenger seat, his hands already grabbing me before I’m properly sitting. Pressing his lips to mine in a kiss. The simple greeting turning into something else with the way he kisses me. Like he doesn’t want to let go.

“Hi.”, I finally manage to say, a little out of breath.

“Sorry, missed you all day.”, he whispers apologetically, backing off a bit, just looking at me.

“No, come back here.”, I say, my hand grabbing his neck, fingers tangled in his hair, and I pull him down to me again for another kiss.

When he pulls back now, he’s grinning down at me. And I don’t need to tell him that I missed him too. He knows.

König straightens up in his seat, shifts the car into gear and pulls out of the parking lot. (The only thing he ever pulls out of, really)

“What’s the plan for today, Prinzesserl?”, he asks me then.

“Oh oh, there is this new Asian fusion place that opened up a few weeks ago.”, I say. “I haven’t been yet.”

He pulls up his eyebrows. “Asian fusion?”

“Yes.”, I say. “They have all kinds of stuff from all over.”

“Spring rolls too?”

“I bet.” I grin up at him.

“Then let’s go.”, he says, the expression on his face mirroring mine.

I sit back, crossing my legs and snuggling into my seat. His hand lands on my thigh and mine clasps over it.

It’s like he never left. Well almost, at least.

And I know that not everything’s forgotten. It doesn’t work like that. My heart is content, but my mind is still catching up. Sometimes thinking about what he said when he left. The promises he made when he came back. Working out how this relationship between us will be from now on. Working with him on that, for both our sakes.

Because despite what happened and my efforts while he was gone... I still do love him.

And we both deserve it.

the whole story in the Masterlist

i'm sorry, i'm so in love with this man that isn't real :') (well, he is, in my mind)

[messylxve]

burned hearts | aaron hotchner x reader

part three

content warning : psychotic break, gun, gunshots, injured reader, hospital/ER setting, sad love confessions, happy endings ( I love happy endings)

pt 1 pt 2

If the silence before was sickening, you didn’t even know how to describe it now. You spared him no words as you got out the car and made your way to your apartment.

Aaron only took that as a sign to follow a far distance behind.

Your apartment felt so fitting. It was an amalgamation of everything that reminded him of you and Aaron couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging in being there.

“I was forced to let go of three officers in the past year,” you uttered as you sat in front of your computer, typing away.

“Two moved away, one was let go for failure of a psych eval.”

Hotch frowned at that one. Placing a hand on the back of your chair, he leaned in close to get a good look at the screen.

“Pull up what you have on him.”

Your glance shifted over to him through your peripheral. He was close, his cheek nearly brushing against yours as his eyes stayed trained on the screen.

Catching yourself, you cleared your throat. “You’re breathing down my neck.”

Quicker than ever, Aaron backed away, clearing his throat as well.

You frowned, your attention now fully on him. “Martin Johnson, described as a family man, always talked about them in work when given the chance. But…”

Aaron looked over at you. “But?”

“They all recently passed. Car accident. Johnson was the only survivor.”

“How many people in his family?”

Your frowned deepened as the dot began to connect in your mind. “Four. His wife…two daughters…and a son.”

“Matches our victims.”

You looked up at Aaron. “He’s recreating his own family.”

Aaron fell silent in agreement. "Do you have an address?"

You nodded your head wordlessly. "Printing off his information now."

"Good, we need to get this back to the rest of my team as soon as possible."

He left your side as you waited by the printer and found himself lingering by the door to your office. His eyes trailed around the room, taking it in again. On a small side table, he saw a collection of pictures in frames of your family.

His face remained stoic, but he could feel the ghost of a smile creeping on his face seeing the pictures of you so happy.

However as his eyes dusted over each one, they snagged on something else: a slip of paper. It looked worn and old. Crumpled, folded, and possibly even cried on, multiple times over.

He would have passed it up had it not been for the pretty handwriting marking it.

'Aaron,' it read.

Instinctively, he grasped it. He held it with so much care, so much cautiousness as if it was to crumble in his hands.

He moved to open it, but it left his hands so quickly, snatched away by you.

"Don't touch my things," you grumbled, storming past him. "C'mon I have the information, we need to get back."

How could things have gone so wrong so quickly?

It was barely even half an hour ago that Aaron Hotchner decided to unturn the memories of a night you didn't ever want to touch again.

It seemed so major in those moments, but now, staring down the barrel of an unsub's gun, you found yourself rethinking every single decision you've ever made.

"Johnson." Your voice wavered as you released your gun from the holster, holding it in the air to show you meant no harm. "You don't want to do this."

"Don't tell me what I want!" His eyes were crazed and rimmed red. They shot all over the place, at the officers, the guns. At Aaron.

The fear clouding Aaron’s eyes squeezed at your heart. No one else could see it, but you did. You always did.

Finally, Martin looked back at you.

"All of you! Abandoned me! When I needed it most!"

"Johnson," an officer barked. "Back away fro—,"

"Get away," Martin screamed, stepping even closer to you, the gun pointed at the bridge of your nose. "Or I will shoot."

"No one is going to shoot, Martin," your words came out in a single breath. Despite the way your hands trembled so furiously, your voice never wavered. "I promise you, just put the gun down."

You saw the hesitation in his stance now. "My family was hurt," he cried. "No one helped me. I put them back together and no one helped me. And now! Now you just want to tear them away from me!"

"Martin."

Your eyes fell away from the man at the sound of a new voice. His voice.

"You didn't get the help you needed before, but we can help your family now. We can't do anything unless you put the gun down."

Everything slowed down in your eyes. You watched as Martin lowered the gun. No longer aimed between your eyes, you slowly let your arms fall to your side. Your attention fell to Aaron and you found a semblance of peace in the center of chaos.

It was calming.

You didn’t realize how much you yearned for that specific kind of peace. That kind of peace that only came from him.

But as quickly as that peace came, it washed away.

You saw the anger in Smith when he first heard the news of his pregnant wife's disappearance. You saw the anger in his eyes when you released him from the case. You saw the anger that burned away at his face when you threatened to withhold his gun.

Yet you never did. You should have taken it. Maybe that would have saved you.

You didn't know where or who the gunshots came from, but you know one of them hit you. You didn't know if you'd live or die, but you knew that between the stress of this case, the resurfaced emotions brought up from seeing Aaron again, and the impact of the gun, your body gave in.

The last thing you saw before it all went black was Aaron.

What a beautiful sight it was.

Aaron stayed by your side the entire time. He never left until he was absolutely forced to. Even then, he couldn’t find it in himself to be very far.

“How’s it looking,” Derek asked Rossi once he finally arrived to the hospital.

“l/n will be okay. Bullet only came in through the shoulder, so it’s a quick recovery.”

Morgan crossed his arms, leaning on the wall next to Rossi. “And Hotch?”

“What about him?”

Derek looked at the man further down the hall. His hands was clasped into each other and his knee bounced repeatedly as he recited unheard words to himself over and over.

“You’re kidding right?”

Rossi spared the man another glance, letting out a deep sigh. “I think he’ll be okay.”

“Are you Aaron Hotchner?”

Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever moved so fast, but he was on his feet quicker than he could even process his actions. “I- yes—that’s. That’s me.”

The nurse smiled softly. “She’s asking for you.”

Rossi could help but let out a chuckle watching Aaron hesitate before opening the door.

No words could sum up what Aaron felt. He supposed fear would be an appropriate word, but it wasn’t all fear. He felt as if an accumulation of all of his life choices waited behind that door.

In a way, it was.

With a final anxious breath, he pushed the door open.

On the other side, there he saw you. You looked oddly uncomfortable. You squirmed in your hospital bed and chewed on your fingernails as you waited for him. And when you saw him, you sat up straight and cleared your throat awkwardly, almost presenting yourself to him.

It reminded Aaron so much of when he first met you. That authoritative Chief of police personality had faded away into this. Something so vulnerable and fragile.

“Aaron…hi.” Your voice was so soft now.

“Hi.” His sigh died upon his lips when he saw you. “Can I…,” he motioned for the chair next to you.

“You don’t have to ask to sit Aaron.” You couldn’t help but breathe out a laugh, but that smile faded just as quick as it came, pain shooting up your arm.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to make me laugh.”

You watched him as he pulled a chair up to your bed. You couldn’t help but notice the way your hand twitched, almost as if he was holding himself back from grasping your own. Well the one that wasn’t tied back by a sling.

The two of you sat in silence, the both waiting of the other to say something.

You invited him in with hope the words would magically come to you, but you felt the seconds tick by and all you did was get lost in his eyes.

His eyes were brown, but to you it never felt like just brown. It was that gentle shade that for a major portion of your life, you felt so much solace in.

Painfully, your eyes broke away from his saddening ones.

“I…I don’t know how to do this.”

You didn’t see it, but you could practically feel the way Aaron’s eyebrows dipped down in confusion.

“Do what?”

“This,” you tossed your free hand up in exasperation and glared at the fabric of your blanket. “I—, I had so many things I wanted to tell you, I need to tell you but…I don’t even know which words to start with.”

You didn’t know what to expect from him. Some part of him expected you to walk away like you did him, but instead, you found his warm grasp engulfing your own.

He held your hand with such a gentle hold, you couldn’t help but squeeze it to ensure it was really there. Your eyes moved up slowly, meeting his with hesitance and when you finally met his devastating browns, your heart broke for the thousandth time that day.

“I think you already know the words you need to say.”

He didn’t have to say its name for you to know what he was talking about. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded to bag where your clothes would be.

Wordlessly, Aaron let his hand abandon yours to stand. You watched him sift through your things until he pulled out that infamous piece of notebook paper from your abandoned pant pocket.

He moved at an unbearable pace back to you, gave the note a once over, and passed the paper to you.

Back in your hands, you had this great urge to burn it, or throw it, or drown it away so you’d never have to face it. But you knew that it wouldn’t matter anyways.

“You know,” you breathed out. “You’d laugh but I think I’ve read this so many times, I think I memorized it. I-,” your voice cracked, tears found themselves fight their way to the surface. “I don’t think I even need this.” You waved the note in the air before letting it slap down onto your leg.

“I’m not forcing you to read this,” he reassured, placing a tentative hand on your knee. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Yes, I do.” Your words came quick. You weren’t sure about much anymore but you were sure about this at the very least. “You deserve an explanation for why I left. Why I really left.”

You didn’t open the note. You didn’t even touch it. Instead, you found a sense of fleeting comfort in staring into the empty space between Aaron and the door.

“Aaron,” you recited. “I feel like I need to preface this by telling you that I don’t expect some grand response out of this. I don’t expect you to feel obligated in reciprocating my feelings and I certainly don’t expect you to feel the need to choose anything.

I’m telling you this because I consider you my best friend and I believe, best friends do not and should not lie to each other. I can’t live with this weighing on me anymore and that is why I’m telling you this.

I…love you Aaron Hotchner.

I love you in a way a best friend shouldn’t love a best friend. And it hurts.”

You didn’t even notice the tears now streaming down your cheeks until a sob broke free from your breath. Your unopened letter laid free on your lap now as you moved to wipe your tears.

“It hurts so much, but I need you to know this because last night was a mistake. Not because I hated every moment of it, I didn’t.

It was a mistake because I’ve been lying to you. It was a mistake because I, as a best friend was supposed to help you grieve your breakup with Haley. Not throw myself at you in a moment of vulnerability.

I’m telling you this in hopes of moving past this because in the end, if I were to do something stupid, something I truly regret, I fear that I’d lose you and that…that would probably break me beyond repair.”

Through your own tears, you realized you had managed to successfully avoid Aaron’s eyes for the entirety of your monologue.

“How ironic of me,” you attempted to laugh off when the silence was just too much to bear.

“You’re doing it again,” Aaron noted.

You stopped yourself, looking down and then back at him. “I know.”

You watched as he process everything he heard. He blinked once. Then twice. Let out a breath of air and let his brows sink barely half an inch lower. “Do you know what I’ve always admired about you?”

This caught your attention.

“What?”

“You’ve always been so selfless. You worried so much about the happiness of others and it shined through in your best moments.”

It was now your turn to shake your head in confusion. “I don’t un—,”

“Please. Let me finish.”

“Sorry…”

You felt his hand leave your knee and find your hand once more. “But, it’s also always been your downfall. You’re so selfless, you forget to put yourself first. It always killed me to see you do it but I never said anything about it because I was young and stupid…”

You moved to disagree with that but he shot you a knowing look.

“I know things now that I wish I had half a brain to fathom then.”

He took your hand and joined it with his other do that now your hand fully disappeared into his own. “More than half of those things are how I feel about you. Us”

Your brows dipped down in vulnerability. “Us?”

“Yes. Us. I don’t know where we stand nor do I know where we go from here, but I know I’d rather figure it out with you in my life than acting like I never knew you at all. Because I love you.”

A final tear fell upon your smiling lips. “You love me?”

“Always.”

taglist: @mackannkees @gghostwriter @person-005

A/N: This is my first criminal minds fic so PLEASE leave criticism, I wanna know how I can improve

[ninyard]

do you think if aaron and katelyn had kids (twins possibly?) that andrew would make a pact with katelyn not aaron to protect them if anything happened. Been considering it for a while now

I’m imagining what that’d look like and all that comes to mind is if Aaron ever mentioned something in therapy along the lines of not being able to cope if his kids grow up the way he did. They’re talking about the future and Aaron is talking about kids with Bee, and he says something like,

“I really want to have kids. I do. I want to give them what I didn’t have. But I’m afraid that I still don’t know any better, and I’m just going to fuck them up anyway.“

“And what if you did? Or at least, think that you did?” Betsy asks. “What if something happens, or you make a little mistake in raising them, what then?”

And he thinks about it for a minute. He looks at Andrew briefly, he looks at himself. He can’t look at Betsy. Maybe his eyes are glued to the ceiling.

“I couldn’t live with myself,” Aaron answers. “Knowing things could’ve been different and they weren’t.”

I think the deal that Andrew could’ve made with Katelyn, when he finds out that she’s pregnant, would’ve been to always, always, always, prioritise their children over Aaron. It doesn’t make much sense to her - why would Andrew, who has always been so fiercely protective over Aaron, now say to her don’t put him first?

No matter what happens - if Aaron relapses, if he overworks himself, if his nightmares get worse or his past comes back to haunt him, Andrew wants her to promise that she’ll never let the kids suffer for the sake of Aaron. Andrew can always look after him. He can help in anyway he knows how. But what’ll only make things worse is if Aaron starts spiralling, and now his kids start to see him as addict dad, scary dad, angry dad, absent dad. Mommy doesn’t have time to play with us because daddy won’t get out of bed. It’d kill Aaron to become the thing he’s always resented his own biological father for - not being there, not caring about his kids. To hear his kids say I hate you would destroy him.

So Andrew makes her promise to shelter them from that. Aaron will worry and scream and cry don’t you take my fucking kids if she ever takes them away from him while he’s recovering, to her moms house, or somewhere else.

He’ll raise hell so she doesn’t leave with them; but he won’t survive if they stay.

He won’t survive if his kids grow up just waiting for dad to have a bad spell again. Waiting for something to happen. Going to sleep afraid of what mood dad might be in when they wake up. Growing up remembering what it looked like when dad hadn’t showered or shaved in two weeks. What it sounded like when he yelled at mom because he’d been working for three weeks straight. The way his eyes looked when he was high, and they were too young to know what it was.

He’d rather be locked in a bathroom with Andrew outside the door for a month, his kids thinking that daddy’s on a business trip, than expose them to the life he only has because of his fuck up parents.

Maybe that’s a deal Andrew makes with Katelyn. Maybe.

[fandoms-x-reader]

Running To Away From You

Word Count: 1,427

Lucifer x Reader

You struggled to catch your breath as your legs were burning from running. You had to get away. You ran to the nearest room that might provide refuge. You swung the door open before even knocking, startling the demon brother inside. You closed the door and turned to face him. “Y/N?” Asmo asked, worry in his eyes at your condition. 

“Asmo! You have to help me,” you told him frantically. He was in the middle of painting his nails but stood up protectively. Before he could say anything though, the door burst open again and Lucifer stood in the doorway, his gaze narrowing on you. You let out a small scream as you moved to stand behind the Avatar of Lust. Asmo was confused but didn’t move. Lucifer took a couple of steps further into the room, a smirk playing on his lips as he asked, “Y/N, did you really think you could get away from me?”

_______________

You were lying in Lucifer’s bed, smiling softly at him. You and Lucifer had been together for a while now. Neither of you expected it to happen. After all, it seemed like you were close with every brother but him; and, he treated you mostly like an assignment from Lord Diavolo. However, somewhere along the way, your feelings for each other grew deeper. Growing into an insatiable need to be around each other.

At first, Lucifer thought it would be best to not put your relationship on display in front of the others. It would only lead to an unending amount of teasing, especially from Asmo. You had kept it secret for a while. But, eventually, neither of you could pretend any longer. The need to hold your hand, or pull you into a kiss whenever he wanted was too strong. 

When the brothers first found out, they reacted exactly as you had expected them too. A mix of shock, happiness, teasing and maybe even a hint of jealousy. Regardless, they were all completely supportive which allowed you and Lucifer to get very comfortable in your relationship.

You spent most nights in his room with him now. The two of you spending the hours wrapped in each other's arms…among other things.

Usually, Lucifer would wake up before you, studying your features - questioning how someone as beautiful as you even existed. You would usually wake up to him staring at you and a deep blush would coat your cheeks, making you even more beautiful.

However, today you somehow managed to wake up before Lucifer. You couldn’t help but notice how peaceful he looked while he was sleeping. As if all the worries he has to deal with on a daily basis simply vanished. You felt so special being able to see a side of him that no one else got to see. You wished it would last forever.

Then, an idea popped in your head. In hindsight, a very terrible idea.

You remembered a while ago, you and the brothers had attempted to take a picture of Lucifer sleeping. Back then, it would have been for the others. But now, you wanted the picture for yourself. You hesitated for a moment, and then realized if you waited too much longer, he would be awake and your opportunity would be gone.

You carefully moved to reach for your D.D.D. and opened the camera app, doing your best to move as little as possible. He would definitely kill you if he found out you did this. You held your breath as you lined him up perfectly in the shot and then clicked the button to take the picture.

Flash.

A bright white light suddenly shone in his face as your D.D.D. took the picture.

Oops.

Lucifer was wide awake now, glaring at you (as much as he could because when he looked at you the only thing he had in his eyes was love). “Y/N. Did you just take a picture of me sleeping?” he asked in a low voice. You were so screwed.

The fearful look in your eyes betrayed you as you shook your head no. “Of course not,” you replied. Lucifer’s eyes darkened as he said, “Hand me your D.D.D.” He held his hand out expectantly but there was no way you were giving it to him.

“Oh, I would. But, there’s actually something I need to do really quick,” you told him, quickly pushing the covers off of you and jumping out of the bed. Lucifer attempted to reach for you but you managed to dodge him before running out of his room and down the halls in your pajamas. 

You sprinted as fast as you could but you knew he would eventually catch up. So, instead of running, you decided your best option was to hide. Maybe even get one of the brothers to help you. You noticed Lucifer down the hall from you and ran even faster.

You struggled to catch your breath as your legs were burning from running. You had to get away. You ran to the nearest room that might provide refuge. You swung the door open before even knocking, startling the demon brother inside. You closed the door and turned to face him. “Y/N?” Asmo asked, worry in his eyes at your condition. 

“Asmo! You have to help me,” you told him frantically. He was in the middle of painting his nails but stood up protectively. Before he could say anything though, the door burst open again and Lucifer stood in the doorway, his gaze narrowing on you. You let out a small scream as you moved to stand behind the Avatar of Lust. Asmo was confused but didn’t move. Lucifer took a couple of steps further into the room, a smirk playing on his lips as he asked, “Y/N, did you really think you could get away from me?”

“What’s going on?” Asmo questioned. “Delete it,” Lucifer stated, ignoring Asmo. “Delete what?” Asmo asked, turning to you. “I got a picture of Lucifer sleeping,” you replied. “Really?! Let me see!!” Asmo said, his face lighting up in excitement. 

“You will do no such thing,” Lucifer instructed you. He walked even further in the room. Asmo stayed in front of you, now enjoying the chance to mess with his older brother. “Lucifer, it’s really not that big of a deal. You look cute!” you told him, slowly inching your way towards the door.

Lucifer looked taken aback at your words. “Oh, I bet he looks adorable,” Amso chimed in. You were the only one allowed to call him such things. He sent a glare at you as if it was your fault Asmo said that.

You shrugged your shoulders before deciding now was your chance and you sprinted back out the door, leaving a laughing Asmo behind. You made your way back down the hallway towards your room.

As soon as you got inside, you shut and locked the door, letting out a sigh of relief as you turned around. You let out a small shriek as Lucifer was somehow already inside the room. How is that even possible?

He pushed you against the wall. “Lucifer, we can talk about this,” you tried to reason, trying not to smile. You expected some sort of punishment, and you braced yourself for it. However, you did not expect him to crash his lips onto yours.

You immediately melted into it, the kiss getting more and more passionate. Reaching the point that left you craving for more. He pulled away so you could both breathe. You moved in to connect your lips again, but he pulled back.

“Lucifer,” you practically whined out. The sound was enough to almost make him cave. Almost. “Don’t be a tease,” you added softly. “Delete the picture,” he replied firmly. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't budging. 

You wanted nothing more than to fight back. To tell him that you didn’t need him then. But, the way his hands were on your hips as his body pressed against you. You definitely needed him.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you pulled out your D.D.D. and deleted the picture in front of him. You would try and get another picture some other time. “Happy?” you asked him, a small pout on your lips. Lucifer looked satisfied as he lifted you up and connected his lips with yours again, carrying you over to the bed. Now it was your turn to be satisfied.

[alanaaii]

SUNDRESS SZN☆

He like the dress a little too much.

Connie couldn’t stand his pretty girl leaving the house without him. Especially in that nice ass sundress. With a slap to your ass, connie’s presence was known. The type of slap that leaves a burning sting. “connie!” you yelled at him without turning away from the mirror where you was taking pics. “fine ass..” He said under his breath but you ignored him as you were focused on getting the perfect picture to post on the gram.

He took that personal and got closer to you. To the point your back was touching his chest. His hand slithered from behind you to your neck where he held a firm grip on it. “where the fuck you think you going?” You could feel the heat from his words glide over your ears. It made your insides flutter and your body instantly warm up.

But you knew connie and you knew his intentions and it was simple—Don’t let his girl leave the house.

“i was going to meet up with-“ you were cut off as you suddenly felt the hand that was securely around your neck tighten.“you don’t wanna stay wimme?” you could barely keep your balance. your legs felt like jello. “it’s sunny outside connie i want to go out” your protest fell to deaf ears. His ass was not listening to shit you had to say. He wanted you to stay home.

and he got exactly what he wanted. After a few minutes of going back and fourth.

You were arched in your king sized bed taking all of him. You couldn’t tell how long it’s been. 15 minutes? 2 hours? you don’t know. Connie had a grip on your hair as he thrusted harshly into your glistening wet pussy. “why..are you fuckin me like thiss!!” your words muffled from the pillow your face was currently kissing. “i just wanted you to stay wit’ me mama” he moved his free hand to your hip as he pulled you closer to him. Pushing himself deeper into you. You felt every single inch.

He had you smelling colors and seeing sounds. Incoherent nonsense spilling from your lips. Your makeup was mixed in with your tears and pillow. Connie seeing your messed up mascara only made his pounding faster. He released his hand from your hair and grabbed your other hip, bouncing your ass on him. “cumming cumming ‘m cumming!” your back arched even further, you came undone on him. “let it out fa me” He kept pounding into you as you came on him. Your cum stinking on his lower abdomen. Your screams were rewarding to connie and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

Likes, reblogs and follows are always appreciated! ♡

[hongjoongspoetry]

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 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[whorethology]

𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑’𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧. 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤! 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 :(, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲𝐲. (𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐬) 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 & 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰?!

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: 𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 (𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢-𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐬) 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

“Fuck.” Your whole world felt as if it was spinning, you slid slowly down the bathroom door. This, couldn’t be your reality. Your brain clouded in confusion, trying to wrap your head around your own demise. The nausea in your stomach slowly crept.

The hot salty tears flew out of your eyes uncontrollably, you finally snapped. your emotions too much to contain. You held the positive pregnancy test in your shaky and sweaty palms. You almost wanted to pinch yourself to wake you up from this nightmare, how could you be so stupid..?

Your life was already taken over by this man, his baby too. You were constantly walking on eggshells around him, you were so close to escaping. You saved up enough to afford a train ticket back to your home town.

You hadn’t had your period in months, you put it all on stress. The past year being the most miserable you’ve been since you were taken by him. His son, Megumi, had just turned 2. It was exhausting keeping up with a toddler, and an adult as immature as him.

Your life was falling apart in front of you, you were so close to the edge of freedom. Today is father’s day, ironically. Toji was at work, as usual during the day. You watched the clock click swiftly, anxiously preparing yourself for his arrival.

As you waited you began tidying up the living room, it was a mess since his son loved throwing his toys everywhere. You hurriedly put all the toys away into the toy box before starting to prepare dinner, you were craving pasta.

A wave of nausea washed over you, causing you to stumble, almost falling before catching yourself on the counter. Once you finished making the pasta you turned the oven on and placed the pasta into the oven, watching the clock closely.

Suddenly, you heard the cries of Megumi. He had awoken from his nap, and it was time for him to be fed. You walked to his nursery, pulling the infant from his crib. You watched as he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Mama?” The infant called, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Yes, Megumi. Mama is here.” You answered, carrying the infant to the living room.

“Wea Papa.” He responded, while sucking on his thumb.

“Papa is at work, let’s get your fed before he gets home.” You pulled your shirt up, displaying your breats. Megumi began breastfeeding immediately, hungrily devouring the milk. you cringed in pain as your felt the infant’s incoming teeth scrap your nipple.

You heard the door knob to the front door shake as it twisted, the man you despised walking through the door with a smirk in his face.

“Wife, Son. Today is father’s day, I aspect both of you to be on your best behavior.” Toji said, grinning happily. He had his chest puffed up before removing his jacket and shoes.

You mastered the craft of ignoring him and Megumi, you tried to place yourself in your own world. The image of a beautiful rose garden with cushy leaves placed in your mind. However, the realization of your pregnancy completely ruined your thoughts.

You felt Megumi remove his mouth from your nipple, reaching for his dad instantly. He always chose his father over you, which you were fine with.

“Papa!” Megumi screamed, before being picked up by his dad. He kissed Toji on the cheek then squeezed his cheeks.

“Gumi! Are you excited to see your daddy, huh? Was your mommy good today?”

“Nuh Uh.” Megumi replied, pointing at you. It was obvious you were somewhere completely different mentally.

“Y/N? Helloooo?” Toji, snapped trying to break your silence.

“Oh- Im sorry. Welcome home, we missed you.” You tried to smile, trying to give the illusion that you were happy. You then kissed Toji on the cheek.

“Where’s dinner? You’ve been here all day and haven’t made any food? What the hell do you do all day, sit on your ass?” Toji argued, grabbing you by your wrist.

You cleared your throat, trying to make words come out but you couldn’t. Your despair clogged your throat, you felt tears began to gather in your eyes.

“Are you gonna cry? Seriously? You act like a little bitch, all you do is sit around and cry.” He continued, Placing Megumi in his play pen.

“Toji- dinner is in the oven. If you’re hungry now i’ll make you a plate.” You stuttered, your eyes locking at his hands gripping your wrists.

“That’s the least you can do, hurry up.” He said, waving his hands at you.

You rushed into the kitchen, grabbing the plates and glasses before putting your oven mitts on and taking out the pan of pasta. You scooped up a generous amount of pasta for Toji and yourself, then you grabbed your husband a beer.

“Here you go, enjoy.” You handed Toji his food before rushing back into the kitchen.

You heard him turn on the television, a sports game was being played as usual. You also heard him and Megumi talking over the game.

“Come ere!” Your husband yelled, making your heart dropped.

“Yes honey? Do you want another beer?” You suggested, he looked upset,

“Gumi said you were crying, is that right?” He questioned, taking a swig of his beer. his eyes glued to the game.

“No, maybe he had a bad dream-”

“Are you calling my son a fucking liar, Y/N? Look at you, you look a mess. Your eyes are red, you keep sniffing.”

“I’m just a little sick, I promise. Nothings wrong.” You promised, eyeing the infant in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time he snitched to his dad, and you couldn’t blame him. He was trained to do so, when Toji couldn’t watch you he had his son do it.

Toji stared at you for a few seconds before placing his food and beer on the coffee table. He stood up to his full height, towering over you. His hand caressed your face before gripping it into his palm.

“You either tell me, or i’ll beat it out of you.” He whispered calmly, pulling your hair behind your ear. You winced at the thought of another beat down from your husband, you gulped roughly before speaking.

“I’m pregnant, Toji.” You whispered in shame, barely being able to hear your own voice. The tears you were holding back fell simultaneously.

Toji stood in silence for a few seconds, you were unable to read his face due to you hanging your head down. A few moments later you felt his hands reach out to your stomach, feeling your slight protruding bump.

“Another baby, what’s the issue? You already love Megumi, he needs a sibling anyways.” Of course he wouldn’t understand you. When you first found out you we’re pregnant with Megumi you locked yourself in the bathroom for days, scared to face your reality.

It was happening all over again, you were already exhausted from dealing with Megumi. Chasing him all over the house, dealing with his horrible tantrums. All while his father sat and watched.

A newborn and a 2 year old would kill you, you couldn’t even bring yourself to imagine it.

“We’re not ready Toji, Megumi is already a handful. We agreed to wait until he was a little older.” You said, trying to be careful with your words so you wouldn’t upset the large man.

You watched as his face contorted into confusion, like he was offended by your words. He chuckled before speaking.

“You weren’t saying that when you were taking my cock? Hm? Were you? Do you think I’d let you get rid of my seed, are you that stupid? You’re my wife, this is your duty.” He scowled, deepening his grip on your face.

You surprisingly mustered up the courage to defend yourself, the last time you did it was bad. But you couldn’t take it anymore, you were done.

“FUCK YOU TOJI! I fucking hate you okay?! Is that better? I hate playing fucking housewife for you, I hate being a mother. You make my life fucking miserable, Is that what you wanna hear? You forced this onto me, so i’m sorry if i’m not enthusiastic about you ruining my life for the 3rd fucking time.” You screamed, shocking toji. his eyes raised in surprise as he stared at you, Megumi whined in annoyance from the screaming.

Toji released you before chuckling to himself. He was obviously in disbelief, you dared to talk back to him?

You came back down from your anger, cowering in fear. You already knew he wouldn’t take this lightly.

“Go to the room, Y/N.”

You almost ran up the stairs, relieved to be away from him.

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same as him, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 .

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Armando was obsessed with everything about you. Yet, you never showed him the same energy back. Until one night.

-> theme: one sided love, smut.

-> format: drabble + story?

-> warning: hardcore smut, slight mention of dacryphillia, armando is a little rough and cocky asf, mature language, mention of guns, mention of alcohol, he does not understand the meaning of personal space, i think if he wants something he’ll go after it!

-> authors note: 2 updates back to backkk! thanks for requesting! Hope you enjoy it! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

᯾ Ever since he first noticed you when meeting the team, it was love at first sight for him.

᯾ He would definitely show how much he’s obsessed with you in implicit ways, not fully going for you as that’s not his personality.

᯾ Would definitely prefer to do things that make you notice him, however, he could chase you if he wanted to.

᯾ He would definitely stare at you in the locker room or on the plane, on the way to whatever location you guys are needed.

᯾ His eyes would start at your legs before slowly glancing up to your lips.

᯾ You already know he’s a playboy just like his dad.

᯾ However, regardless of his obvious interest in you, the feelings wouldn’t be reciprocated.

᯾ Nevertheless, he wouldn’t tease you too much on missions. Not loving you enough to the point where he wants his life to be compromised.

᯾ He always has his eye out for you. Need more ammo? he’s got you.

᯾ Need a cover? He’s got you on that too.

᯾ You couldn’t even hate him, skilled in his fighting he was an excellent addition to the team. The way he effortlessly handled any weapon that was given to him, effectively killing anyone in his path. Giving assistance to anyone within the team, you really couldn’t hate him.

᯾ He knew he was good at what he does too.

᯾ And sooner then later, you’d realise he’s good in bed too.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄:

᯾ You hardly talked to him, always avoiding his path.

᯾ Celebratory drinks? On the other side of the table.

᯾ Group talks? You’re never next to him.

𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐎, until you guys saw each other at a club. Neon lights were flashing as people danced and drank excessively. There was you, with two friends, dancing within the crowd. You rolled your hips with the flow of the music, this being an escape from your fast-paced life of being a law enforcement agent.

That was until you saw him, surrounded by men looking like him. Armando’s tan skin and beard being the main thing that stood out. He wore a simple black shirt with tight, slim black jeans. There was a fresh slit in his left eyebrow while his gold cuban chain hung off his neck, slightly longer than shoulder length.

He looked back up, and smirked. Shaking it off, you went back further into the crowd and continued to dance with your friends.

“We’re going to switch it up now, introducing some dancehall! Ladies get ready to whine up yuhself! Men, get ready to catch that whine!!” The DJ shouted over the music before switching up the song.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄 & 𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐂𝐇 - 𝐉.𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢 & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊.

Cheers and woos erupted in the building, more people coming to the dance floor as ladies bent their legs and arched their backs, ready to whine their life away.

Your friends started whining and dancing, screaming the lyrics as their body began to move with the music as if they were in a trance.

You decided to do the same, letting loose, you began to put your hands on your knees. Whining along to the music by anyone who pressed up behind you. That was until you felt those hands.

Looking up , you noticed Armando holding your hips, a suggestive look on his face as he controlled every circle and buck of your whine. You hated to say it but he was really skilled.

He didn’t even say anything, just focused on you and the music. Slowly pushing your hair on the left side of your face, his hand creeped up to your neck while the other one was still rested on your hip. His touch igniting a flame of zeal within you, the air between the two becoming hot and heavy.

This was forbidden, two co workers were not supposed to have any sexual relations with each other. Yet, you both did not care. Too overcome with lust and desire.

“Volver a casa conmigo..” Armando whispered in your ear, causing a tingle to happen down there.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. Symphonies of groans and moans escaping the two lovers’ lips as they engaged in a heated kiss, fighting each other with their tongue, burning passion radiating off them. The white, satin sheets barely covered the male as he was focused on thrusting into the woman below. His cock pistoned in and out of the woman’s leaking pussy as her legs were up in the air, rocking backwards and forwards as she jolted up and down due to the roughness of her lover’s actions. Her wetness causing a thin coating on his dick.

“Te sientes tan bien amor..” Armando whispered, gently biting on the woman’s earlobe as she moaned in his ear, hypnotised by the feeling of his thick clock filling her up.

The male noticed and withdrew from her earlobe, still continuing the same pace as he held onto her hips but instead he could see the pleasure in her face. Tears of pleasure slowly slid down your face, to the point where you tried to push the male back, to no avail. “You got to take it mamí.”

“It feels too good.. i can’t.”

“Oh yes you can.” Armando grunted. Randomly flipping you over, your face was roughly met with the pillow. The man then started pounding with even more passion as you gasped and whined underneath him. “Just like that Armando..”

Your little comments turned him on more, feeling the reach of his peak coming. Your quiet nature before this now contradicting the lewd activity commencing now. And he loved it. He knew you would eventually come around. “Ah.. ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?”

Too dazed by the pleasure to understand the sarcasm dripping off his voice, you just nodded. Your hand slowly crawling down to your clit as you rubbed it in desperation. The overstimulation forcing your orgasm to come crashing down before you could even warn him. “Oh my god!”

This caused Armando to absolutely lose it. Your own impulsive decision to coming back to bite you caused him to begin chasing after his own orgasm. Still thrusting while you tried coming down from your own, before pulling out and releasing his seed onto your stomach.

“estás loco.”

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“Volver a casa conmigo” : Come home with me.

“Te sientes tan bien.” You feel so good.

“ ¿Así que tu bonita boca puede hablar?��: So your pretty mouth can speak?

“estás loco.” - You’re crazy.

“Estoy loco por no amarte antes.” - i’m crazy for not loving you sooner.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🕷️] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@milliumizoomi @thedarkworldofhananerea @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @loakswifesworld @sarcasticbitchsblog

[space-apples]

i buried my teeth in everything good

hi chatters sorry for dying. thanking @dakedo0o @loveroped @angeart and @sunieraes for beta-ing i appreciate you <3

here it is on AO3 x

and if you want to read it here you can do that !!

He’s succeeded his task, and the wind was faintly blowing in his ear, almost sounding like laughter.

He’s succeeded his task, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains. He didn’t even realize he’d gone the whole night without a blink. 

He’s succeeded his task, and the cold air was gnawing against his skin. He could hardly care anymore. 

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He was drowning now, and felt the familiar sense of life being drained from him before arriving back at the Secret Keeper. He stared at it coldly (everything was cold.)

A skeleton was somewhere in the distance. It was shooting at him, but Scar couldn’t be bothered to care. The arrows buried themselves into his skin, but as he bled and whatever remaining life source once again drained out of him, Scar didn’t recognize the pain as much as he should have. All he really felt was numbness, a fucked up sense of relief. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, wishing, hoping, praying for release.

If he died now, he would be gone. He would be free. 

Of course the Gods above cared too much about their entertainment to let him go. So when he opened his eyes, the arrows were gone. The only mark left that showed they were ever there were the scars. More to add to the collection, he supposed, bitterly staring up at the Secret Keeper statue. 

Scar wanted to scream at it, to get TNT and blow the stupid thing to dust and rubble. 

He pressed the button once more, wildly, angrily, and cursing so much that a sailor would cringe away. 

Win Secret Life, it said. As always. He did win. As always. 

Pressing the button over and over again wouldn’t do anything, but he did anyway, something in him snapping. Only getting more desperate and upset with each hit as it gave him more and more books. He didn’t care that his hand was getting splintered, that a nasty bruise was starting to form, that he felt it breaking. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything anymore, he couldn’t focus on caring. Scar just wanted to go home. 

He didn’t even realize when he started rapidly hitting the stone instead, putting so much weight and force into his attacks that the button had broken. When he paused long enough to realize, he swore he couldn’t feel himself breathing anymore. The books were splattered around, his hand was bloodied, and his legs crumbled from underneath him. 

Scar prided himself on being resilient, only crying once or twice after a Life Game. But seeing his own blood on a half beaten rock where the button should have been, feeling the cold air biting at his skin, the awareness that he was irrefutably alone, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything in order to go home, shattered any resolve he so wished to keep. 

His hands didn’t seem like his as he laid them, shakily, gently, carefully, on pedestal once more. His whole body shook, wracked with impending doom. He was sobbing, he realized, though the tears never seemed real. None of this seemed real. He couldn’t breathe through it, and some sick part of him hoped that it would continue, that his body would finally collapse and allow him to be detached from this world. 

But maybe he deserved this. 

Maybe with how many people he killed, how many people he made suffer, this was his punishment. A permanent loop, a permanent limbo, forever cursed to be alone. 

Maybe that was the reason for his time here; showing that his destiny, his purpose, his fate, was to be on his own. Where he grew up, it wasn’t exactly an option to talk with other people, and perhaps he got too comfortable in Hermitcraft. Last Life should have been his reminder, his push in the right direction, but he wanted the interaction. The comfort of being near someone was too tempting to turn down. Yet the bite of cold he felt constantly growing up in the apocalypse, it was the same he felt on that horrible mountain in Last Life. It was the same he felt now. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how many blankets or campfires he had, just like how he wouldn’t ever be able to be relieved of the crippling isolation that threatened to overflow and drown him. 

He didn’t know when time started to blur even more, he didn’t know when he started to feel so numb that it felt like he couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing just that. The sun was blaring, it might have stung to look at, yet he just kept staring upward, blankly. There wasn’t much else he could do, anyways. He broke the button. He probably broke his hand too, but he was floating too much to really register it.

He didn’t notice when his legs became anchored to the ground. The hope that the possibility of his opponents (they were friends, they were friends, they were friends) cared enough to come back, to check in on him, was of course foolish. They wouldn’t. It should have bothered him more, and maybe some part of him was uneasy. But a bigger part of him was tired. 

Now, his legs didn’t just feel heavy, they felt like stone. 

And that’s when he noticed he couldn’t sit up. That everything was so much colder. That he was so much more aware of the world. He could make out every grass blade being eaten by grazing animals, the fish wading through the waters, and he didn't even flinch at the desperate snarling of the Undead– the zombies. They were hungry, ravenous, and all he could really do was shift his energy away from it. 

He still felt like he was being stared at, yet he couldn’t detect the stare of the Secret Keeper anymore. It bothered him in the back of his mind. In the dark corners, it felt more than simply wrong. His eyes felt sluggish, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to close them. Now he had to watch, to feel more than the ground below him, the suffocating air around him. It was dark. It was bright. It was hot, but so so so cold. 

All he could do was stare into the sky, watching the sun reach into his peripherals and watch it fade away into a cold night, stars tracing each speck of his vision. It should have been the only thing he saw. He didn’t know how he saw everything. But the statue wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t watching along beside him. 

He tried to regard it as a good thing. That he didn’t have to feel that prying stare bear into him. But all he could think was that he was now those intrusive, intense, invading eyes. It wasn’t that it was gone, it was that he took its place. He didn’t know if shattering that stupid button was the cause, but he didn’t even mean to break it. He had just wanted to go home.

He can’t even think of how he’d do that now. He barely remembers the faces of his opponents. No, no, they were his friends. Yes, his friends. He couldn’t remember the faces of his friends. They were all muddled and blurry, just like the memories of their time together, hardly resurfacing when he tried to remember. He remembers a boat pole? Bluebells— no, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t frame it correctly, but akin to. A flower of sorts, poisonous to something. He remembers vague things about vexes, though they were just a– a mob with no real significance. He can’t quite... God, why can’t he remember. They were his friends, he said it himself, they were kind and funny and. He wished he could remember more about them other than their bloodshed, than their violence. There were pieces he was missing.

(He misses them. He needs them. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s had to isolate and disconnect from everyone he knew for the sake of Watching. But it isn’t his job to question it, if he could even do such a thing. At least not anymore.)

Time passed on, he knows it’s passed on. There’s little, in this world at least, he doesn’t know at this point. But as far as the people who are gone, the people he killed, he doesn’t know where they are now. How long it’s been for them. He knows there’s not much he can do about it. There’s not much they can do to save him. He thought, he hoped, the numbness was back.

He didn’t know how much he even felt anymore, he wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling. So why, why, is there so much dread in the pits of his stomach. Why is there nausea building in his body, his head throbbing with a migraine. Why did his fear come back all at once, his disquiet of being so utterly alone solitary abandoned abandoned abandoned being seemingly worse than before. It’s not like it ever left, but if it did, it came back stronger than it ever was prior. He didn’t mind being numb, really. He half-heartedly wished for it back. He vaguely realized in his mind he won’t be going home anymore. And this wasn’t at all what he wanted. To be trapped in a never ending loop of pain and pressing buttons was hardly on anyone’s bucket list. He didn't even know what he wanted now, other than to simply rest. 

Though now he figured this was why he was here. Why wouldn’t they want someone already contiguous to not one soul— someone so bloodthirsty— in their grasp. Playing their sick games until he could only regurgitate futile means of escaping. Watching for them. Commanding for them. Succeeding for them. Maybe he should have felt horrified at the prospect, and maybe he did, but if it wasn’t at the forefront, he could hardly be expected to feel anything other than that flooding sense of numbness. Maybe he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he did. It didn’t matter now. He had a job to do. 

He succeeded his task, and it was then he noticed the button on the stone pedestal was back. It was nicer than the old one. Engraved in markings he recognized. It was the traditional Elven designs that coiled around harsh stone, though he could already feel the connection to his identity fading away.

He succeeded his task, and yet when he tried to reach out for it, he couldn’t move his hand anymore.

He succeeded his task, and now he’d be making sure when others came along, they’d succeed too. 

He could vaguely remember that he was Scar, but even that was fading from his mind. Now he was the keeper, the beholder, the Successor of the thing that was here before.

.

. 

. 

.

.

They had no idea how long they were trapped in there. They tried to glance around, and though they could technically see, they couldn’t See, not how they were used to. They didn’t wish for it back. Or perhaps they did. But the harsh transition made it difficult to look around at all.

They knew they were not envious of their replacement— though it was still hard to grasp that they could feel, really feel again. The sensations latched onto them like they'd always been there; like it was coming home— but they couldn’t remember anything to match it, or anything at all. It had been too overwhelming to have so many of them, to notice and detect sensations other than stone and that icy cold that swallowed them whole.

 It had been far too long to even remember their name. They were trying awfully hard as well, to remember the identity they had left behind. Before all the buttons, before all the colored names and hopeless faces showed, before all the cravings of violence just to get a sick taste of what being angry meant. They had a life, surely. 

They looked down at their new body. This one couldn’t have been their old one– Staring into the reflection they remembered the face of their Successor, eyes still red and running rampant on Red Life urges. They weren’t in that world, and yet. They wondered if the bloodshed would ever stop.

 It was rather warm here, they noticed, but for some reason they could still sense that bite of cold they felt as the Keeper. 

They didn’t quite know where they were, but they could hear someone approaching. They almost expected a button to be pressed, for them to make a request. Of course that didn’t happen here, and instead a voice called out. 

Excited, concerned, afraid, afraid, afraid—

“Scar, oh my god.” The person, upon seeing them, ran over much faster than they had expected. And to their own surprise, they recognized their– her– voice. She was hard to forget, really, because admittedly, she was one of their favorites. The Newbie, the first to truly find the End in their domain. (Their old domain. It wasn’t theirs anymore.) One with such promise, such potential. Of course now they’re rather glad she didn’t win. “Scar, where have you been?”

They forgot they were in place of the Successor, they forgot that was even his name. They tried to open their mouth to respond, but it turns out after spending what felt like centuries with their mouth made of literal stone, it was a bit harder to get words out. They were sure it’d be raspy anyway, from the misuse.

They remembered her name now, and vague recollections of Scar’s memories came back from when they Saw him. Her name was Gem. 

Gem frowned at his silence, and Scar– not Scar, they’re not Scar– tensed, worried that they’d already be found out within five seconds. 

“I won’t– I won’t push you into talking, Scar,” she said, to their surprise. She surveyed them with such concern that it made them discern… something. Guilt? Embarrassment? She continued, spurred on by them remaining silent. “It’s just– you’ve been gone for almost, uh, two months now. I think.”

They didn’t have to pretend to shudder at the time frame. 

It had been way longer than just two months.

Honestly, they really did try getting their mouth open to speak, to demand, but all they could manage were raspy grunts. Gem winced, yet kept her relatively calm demeanor. 

“It’s okay, I don’t want to force you.” She reaches over slowly, maybe so that if they wanted to back away, they would. They didn’t. It could have been because moving was so unknown, unfamiliar. Or because they regarded Gem as more than just trustworthy; as safe.

The touch burned before it felt like a regular mortal being was actually holding them. She gently encouraged them to move forward, for them to follow her, a smile now plastered on her face. 

 “Come on, Scar, let’s get you home, yea?” 

Home. 

In their last moments before the Successor took over, they remembered his last thoughts were wistfully praying that he’d be let go. Back to wherever here was, where they could pretend his past was long gone and have fun and play— not dangerous— games. Where they could have just a little company. 

The memory made them feel like something was twisting in their gut, their throat closing up with such a tightness it felt like they were forgetting how to breathe. They didn’t remember what that feeling was. But they needed to get rid of it, and Gem’s words were so warm, such a drastic change from the icy wind clawing at each part of them, threatening to freeze them over. 

Gem’s offer didn’t seem to hold the same malice, but when they tried to see into it, see her intentions, they were swiftly reminded their abilities were no longer with them. The similar sensation in their gut came back, and it screamed and yelled at them to run, to get far away. Logically, though, if they were to run, Gem would most likely catch them a lot easier than they’d like to admit. They were not used to having legs that— more or less— work. And if she wanted to kill them she would have already done so. 

So they nod, following her carefully after she takes her hand off their shoulder. She let go, and it still felt like it was there, still felt like it was burning, still felt like it was there to keep it burning. Gem’s touch wasn’t bad, at least they didn’t think so. They hadn’t had any contact with anyone or anything for so long, and perhaps that was why it felt so sudden. So much. They tried to trail behind her as best they could, only becoming more overwhelmed with each step. 

They’re not familiar with so much of this, so many textures, so many potential people around, so many so many so many—

It wasn’t her fault, really. 

She just kept leading on, adding little comments here and there. It was hard to keep paying attention to her when she wasn’t the only one making noise. Grass crunched from underneath them, water was crashing a little while away, Gem’s armor was rattling against itself with every step, there were probably people in the distance, not bothering to keep their voices down. 

Their vision got blurry after a while, their legs felt like mush. They didn’t think it had been that long, though that didn’t make them feel better. They could barely make out Gem’s face, her antlers being the only thing that they could really see. 

Everything was spinning around them, going too fast. Or it could have been that they were going too slow. It hurt to keep their eyes open, but the worry that if they closed them now, the worry it’ll be like before made them try so very hard to not blink.

And despite their best efforts, they felt the impact of hitting the ground before anything else.

And despite themself, they knew their eyes were rolling back into their head. 

At least it wasn’t everything all at once, but now it was— once again— nothing. 

.

.

.

.

They woke up, not expecting to be able to feel the softness of whatever they were laying on. They were laying down as well, a position they hadn’t been able to be in before. Though they half expected to be frozen like that, it was certainly a lot more comfortable now than it used to be. They didn’t try to move, at least not for a while, unsure they even could. 

They were talking about them. Not them. Well, maybe it was them technically, but it was still about Scar. The Scar they knew.

“—Just overwhelmed, maybe,” a voice— they could recognize once more as Gem— said, most likely contributing to a conversation that had already started. “I don’t know. He’s been gone for months.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware, Gem.” 

Grian. That voice belonged to Grian. They didn’t have the same excitement towards the man as maybe some of the Others did. They didn’t want to like Grian, and as much as They tried to make them favor him, they had leaned towards Gem. 

They thought she’d be smart enough to figure it out. Clearly, they had thought wrong.

They still weren’t moving, afraid to even try, and instead waded through the waters of their mind, through every crevice of newfound sensations, newfound thoughts. It still felt they weren’t their own, as if they were still rifling through someone else’s head. 

They couldn’t tell if they still felt like it was burning, and they were once again worried they were back there again because even with however many sensations their body may have been experiencing, it still felt so far away. 

They realized they were shaking. 

Which was good, they thought. Good that they could move, at least. They couldn’t think much of anything else when trying to refocus on Gem and Grian, whose voices had become slightly raised. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, inhaling sharply. “I am glad he’s back, I was just— concerned.”

“We all had this after the first Death Game, Gem. Scar shouldn’t feel more violent than, you know, he usually is.”

“But his eyes— even if they weren’t red— they were so empty.”

“Winning a game can be a lot. And Scar was by himself that whole time, even before his, uh, extended hiatus. I think we both know that Scar being alone isn't his favorite thing in the world.” 

“You— Okay, I can see that. I mean I think the Death Games can be a lot for anyone, just on its own. But sure.” She let out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t taken a breath throughout that entire conversation. “I care about him too, Grian. It’s not just you.”

They were both silent for a moment, and for a small second, they thought they had walked away. That was until Grian spoke.

“I know.” His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. “I know. I just— Let’s just make sure to make something fun for when he wakes up. Or at least a cup of water.”

Gem lets out a hum of agreement, and they can’t help but feel that pain in their chest. One that seems bad at first, yet seems to feel more comforting. Even as they hear the door being opened and closed, it remains.

It’s a feeling that, although they barely remembered anything, they know they craved and strived to have it. The feeling of being cared for, of knowing that you’re cared for. 

It was ridiculous, especially as they weren’t even Scar. It was only a matter of time before they found out, before they kicked them right back out for very justifiable reasons. And yet it was hard to deny the temptation of staying, just to feel wanted for even a little while. To have a connection with a real person, a real being. They know it won’t last, as things usually do, but they didn’t see why they couldn't savor this. 

It’s not theirs to savor, they know this. But there’s no one else to provide that connection to them anymore. Even if there was, they don’t remember. It’s frustrating how much they don’t remember, how much they remember about Scar more than they remember about themself. 

They knew they should say something, but the thought of being cast aside was enough to replace the feeling in their chest with a much heavier weight. 

They knew they weren’t Scar, but for now, they could pretend. 

They knew they would be forced to leave eventually, but for now, just for now, they could stay.