#feeling a bit nervous posting this but no one reads my personal posts anyway

[ladyofpembroke]

Does anyone else get fandom fatigue? Like you start getting bugged by the meme-ification of fandom and characters which used to be fun for you but ultimately now feels like it just leads to a distortion of characters/themes? And same with overally headcanon-y fandoms where it’s almost sacrilegious to say you disagree with popular headcanons that aren’t based in canon but more likely to be a result of trying to make a ship work.

Idk I feel like this has happened to me in multiple fandoms. and I definitely have different levels of tolerance for different fandoms and i try to make it work so it doesn’t bug me. Like for succession I don’t mind the funny edits and stuff at all but it is not the type of show I’d ever read fanfic for. And other fandoms I can read some fanfic but memes bother me. But obviously on tumblr it’s easier to avoid fic than memes

I feel like a big problem with it too is that I sometimes feel nervous about putting my own thoughts out there because I’m pretty non confrontational and don’t want it to seem like I’m attacking ppl’s view of a character. But then I get more and more frustrated.

Idk obviously the answer is to step away a bit and get some perspective but it’s hard because you still really like the show/book/whatever and want to participate in the fandom

[anadiasmount]

u and jude being in the same friend group and ur all together on a trip, though jude has been in love with you since day one and on the first night there u two sleep together, leaving u confused and wishing for more knowing things couldn’t be the same after the special night <3

no one knows - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: request above!

wc: 2.5k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: hii!! ik i said this would be posted sooner but i got sidetracked (what’s new… also don't hate me i didn't proof read...) ANYWAYS... this does contain small bit of smut so minors dni! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

the soft waves of the hammock you laid on rocked slowly as you stared out into the almost night sky. the different shades of orange now purple and blue, tiny star appearing in the distance, waves hitting the shore making the whole atmosphere just at peace. it was a king day of travel, having missed your first flight due to a delay on the train.

you had arrived last, but it didn’t matter because you were finally with your friends, wanting to make most of the trip you had planned. you changed into a knitted crème color swimsuit, loving how it fit and hugged your figure, accentuating your curves and pushing up your cleavage just right.

everyone inside was asleep, but you couldn’t go to sleep without wanting to watch the night fall. you loved the beach, the smell, the feel of sand, how your hair went to its natural state, and the feeling of freedom. you quickly got distracted by the click of the door opening, footsteps approaching where you were.

“hi,” you squeak as you see jude lean against the palm tree pole, shirtless and wearing similar shorts as your bathing suit. “you okay? you were the last to arrive and your here alone,” jude asked softly not being able to hold back the gulp at how dreamingly your body looked under this ray and light.

“i’m okay… just can’t sleep for some reason,” you stifle a small laugh, “plus i haven’t seen a view like this in so long, i just wanted too see it, i mean take a look.” jude obliged, looking around in a daze at how the night sky looked now. “yeah you’re right… i feel at ease,” jude nodded.

“how come you’re still up? is everything okay with you?” you sat up, propping your elbow and the back of your hand resting on your temple, your full attention on jude. you couldn’t deny but feel a tad bit confused he was here. jude never really spoke to you an when he did it was short and simple. so you wouldn’t be surprised if he made small talk and left.

“jet leg i guess? you’d think after all the constant travel i’d be used to it but it’s always difficult to fall asleep after a long flight for me,” jude explained taking a seat on the wood chair that was by the balcony. you hummed in response, your hand dragging up from your thigh to your hip letting it rest.

you sensed he wanted to tell you more, his fingers tapping against his massive and toned thighs, his eyes adverting from you to the sea. jude wasn’t shy, quite the opposite, and he knew in this moment it was now or never. “do i make you nervous?” you ask slyly, standing and walking over to him. you hated feeling awkward and left out around him, and you needed to know the reason behind it.

jude was a complete different person in his games, in public, around your friends, yet, he treats you so differently which threw you off the edge. jude roamed your eyes from your tanned shiny legs, your curved torso and bust, his heart stammering against his chest as you looked so willingly and utterly beautiful. “or do you just hate me?”

“hate you? why would i hate you?”

“don’t know… you tell me. it’s like this every time we’re around each other. the tension? you can’t even look into my face? you barely speak a word to me? if i’ve done something to offend you, let me know so i can apologize,” you spoke dearly, following his exact movements by roaming your eyes on his figure. legs spread out begging to be touch, abs defined, with veins adorning his arms. jude was fucked, all he could think about was you in this damn bathing suit and the silly theory you made in your head.

hate you? that’s impossible.

“what if i told you it was the opposite? what if i told you i’m infatuated by you?” jude looked up, standing and over towering you, your gaze shifted from confident to shy. your eyes lowering as jude looked down at you. “that when i’m around you all i can think about is you. how you look, smile, talk and walk, smell… it’s so infuriating to be this madly in love with you and not being able to do a thing about it…” jude confessed, drawing the air out of your lungs, like the wind that breezed the night sea.

“i feel like you’re lying to me…” you couldn’t help but say. a hesitance of insecurity, and that’s there’s absolutely no way this man was in love or was confessing any sort of feelings when actions proved otherwise. “why would i lie to you hm? i’m being completely truthful here y/n,” god the way he said your name had you trembling your knees. “you can’t be jude. we’re so different-”

“that’s what you think, and it’s all in your head. tell me this second you don’t feel it? the magnitude sensation for me to approach you? i can see it in your pretty face darling. now it’s you who can’t even look at me? or yet talk,” jude inches closer to you, seeing your chest rapidly raise up and down.

“you’re everything to me… i’ve had to resist myself because i have no idea if you feel the same way. i’d rather love you from a distance than be embarrassed and you not liking me back…” jude traced with his fingertips along your forearm. “don’t you see it? everything i’ve done it’s because of you… i wouldn’t be here if you weren’t y/n. i just want you…” his pleading and vulnerability in his voice had you gulping a response.

“let me show it to you hm? how you make me feel… how you deserved to be treated,” you nodded feeling the heat rise in you. the familiar desire to be wanted, appreciated, touched by a man like jude. “please jude…” you said in a small whimper, looking up where jude had a hungry gazed, lips slightly open. “show me-”

you remembered how cool the wall was when he hit your back against it, kissing you deeply, so messy and hot. how his hands traveled from your side and around your spine, gripping your ass as he ran his tongue down from your jaw and pulse point. you could feel everything, how big jude was, how hot his skin was to your touch, how desperate the need was.

he had dragged you to his room, his lips never leaving yours any second. it was so vivid in your head, how your back pressed against his chest, how his fingers slowly traced your abdomen down to inside your bottoms, his fingers covered by you slick coat, adding the bit-test of pressure on you clit rubbing it in small circles. all you could focus on was the determination and how hot he looked like this.

jude untied the bows from your bottoms, freeing you completely. he felt like he would die any second, this was real and no turning back. he could’ve watched you all night like this. so sensitive with the smallest touch.the familiar burn in your tummy when he sunk into you with a forceful thrust, hips curling and rocking to pleasure waves of emotions, the heat between your legs as he talked you through it all. the flicker in his eyes when you moaned and begged his name, how your nails scratched against his back asking for more and more.

“you belong to me… don’t you forget that y/n…” he kissed you sloppy, pushing one last thrust and spilling into you. it wasn’t just one round, he made sure to take you against the wall, balcony, shower, and the small couch in his room, in many positions too. he wanted to savor the moment like he imagined. this was way better than his dreams and thoughts in his head. you were so tight, so wet, very much made exactly for him.

the heavy weight on top you made you wake up early. you were used to waking up this early, but not with a hot body on top of you. with one eye barely open you looked at the digital clock, showing just before 7am, the whole house quiet. you looked around before your eyes landed on a sleepy jude, tucked between your arm and head nuzzled into your neck.

your heart raced, not being able to control your confused and guilty emotions. last night was real then? not a sick dream in your head or a movie, it had happened here in his room. “oh shit…” you whispered, chest sinking down as your controlled your breathing. you had to get out, feeling a tad stuck and rushed in space. this wasn’t supposed to happen… even though it felt so right. so meant to be.

you had managed to sneak jude to his back without waking him up. his lips pursed and brown drawn in, breathing heavy. you changed quickly back to your bikini, leaving the room how you had remembered. you ran a hand against your hair, the need to throw water in your face to cool the warmth in your cheeks. you weren’t used to this. you never did one night stands or had friends with benefits relationships. if that’s even what it was.

you couldn’t help but think maybe jude was lying to just get into your pants. you had seen how jude was like when around other woman. but you weren’t other woman. you we’re y/n. the shy but outgoing, smart but naive, and overly patient y/n. you didn’t want it be like them, or seen like them either. all you could think of was him. his brown eyes and stupid gentlemen demeanor.

you avoided him anywhere he was or walked in. the only way you could escape and let go of things was this. you weren’t used to this and didn’t have much experience so you did what you were best at which was ignore jude. but even your friends had noticed you were off and that there was a glow to you. drawing attention from everyone and the person who caused it all.

a small part of you did have a twinge of faith… what if he wasn’t lying? what if everything he proved to you last night was exactly how he felt? what if he was madly in love with you? that you were the woman of his dreams? that it wasn’t just sex and there was raw emotions included?

the ghost feeling against your back made you shiver, realizing it was jude who stood behind you, locking you with both arms extending out to cage you in as you cut up fruit. “you left me this morning,” jude spoke into your ear, feeling your weight shift from one foot to another. “i didn’t want anyone to catch us,” you say shaky, making up a lie knowing part of it was true.

“you’re lying to me…”

“am not. let me go… i-i-i need to bring this outside.”

“you are darling, you think i didn’t notice? you can’t even look at me without talking to me, and you’ve ignored me the whole day thinking i haven’t realized that,” jude let you go but followed behind you speaking a little louder. “lower your voice! i haven’t said anything to anyone!” you hiss, grabbing his wrist and dragging him to the pool room. “what is it you want from me?” you say pleading.

“i want you! i thought i made that clear last night. not just with sex, but with my confession? before we fell asleep? don’t tell me you forgot that,” you shook your head. “i’m just having trouble to process all this, jude… i feel like we’re making a huge mistake…”

“to whom? to our friends? or to you?” jude asked sincerely. you always seemed to put them first over yourself and jude noticed that. “why would it be a mistake? if at the end of the day what we have is real…”

“jude it’s been one night together between us! look at us now! i can’t risk our group falling if we don’t work out jude! it’s not fair to them, to me and you!” you tried to reason but jude shook his head. he stood up from where he leaned, his broad frame over towering yours again.

“why are you so adamant we won’t work? we’ve barely been given a shot here! you’re overthinking it y/n. they don’t have to know a single thing pretty girl, not unless you don’t want them too.but for once think of what you want and your heart desires. not what your friends say. forget them and for once think about yourself,” jude spoke, grabbing your hands.

“i want us to work more than anything y/n. i’m not lying to you and have never gave you the reason either. i’m a good man y/n. just let me in here,” he poked your heart, seeing a sad smile appear on your face. “we can’t be so quick to judge without even trying! why is it so hard to do that? i just want to be with you, i’ve suffered enough as it is already,” jude was pleading, wanting to do anything to keep you here with him.

“and if we do and i lose you jude? people have walked in and straight out of my life. what if we try and it’s going so well just for us to part? i can’t handle losing someone else i love,” you whimper, tears of exhaustion and pain let out. “imagine me now and then? i’ve always thought what’s best for myself and i’m just confused jude… why me?” your voice sounded strained and from another dimension.

“why not you? you’re perfect y/n. anyone who thinks other wise must have been dropped into their head. you have everything that makes me so drawn to you… your eyes… your smile… your way of being… your hair… your everything. you’re everything i want and i’m willing to prove that to you however you ask. just let me be the man you need pretty girl…” jude rested his forehead against yours, his thumb stroking your jaw as you began to fall deeper into this new wave and world with him.

“no one knows. just me and you jude,” you kissed him feverently. the aching burn in your chest as he kissed you with such devotion and power. you shivered beneath him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulled him closer. jude let out a small groan gripping your hips and pushing you to his lower body. there was no self-control here, no professionalism. he quickly became your favorite taste, and feeling. just two humans brought together in the most correct and soulmate way.

two humans who had no idea what was ahead of them.

[kisseobie]

Hello🫣🫣 may I request p1harmony reaction to you wearing something short/revealing when going out clubbing? Thank youuu☺️☺️

p1harmony reacting to you wearing revealing clothes

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: suggestive

tags: established relationships, clingy piwon, the boys are.. boys, clubbing, drinking (aged up for seobsoul), non idol au

a/n: it’s funny bc i was JUST reading an exact post like this a few minutes ago so anon if u were the same person who sent @ntoniac a request for the same thing i hope i can do it justice bc hers had me giggling and kicking my feet .. ANYWAYS! once again i apologize for slow updates i unfortunately am a student amidst a depressive episode soooooo it takes me a bit longer to write :( i hope u all can understand

𖧷 keeho

is honestly so cheesed. the type to insist to take pictures of you on his phone before you two actually make your way out, already mentally planning out which photo he’s gonna use in his next photo dump. is always super grabby with his hands, but its somehow amplified tonight. constantly has his arm lazily perched on your shoulder, and he often whispers cute little compliments into your ear every now and then. doesn’t really mind when people approach you to talk to you, doesn’t even necessarily care when said people make quick glances at your cleavage and the short length of your skirt. you two have an immense level of trust in your relationship, so he’s not one to feel insecure when people admire his girl. i can see kyo as the type to drag you onto the dance floor too, just so he can spin you around and feel your ass rub against the frontside of his jeans. eventually does end up posting those photos he took of you earlier on instagram, but not without captioning it something like “that’s all me”

𖧷 theo

doesn’t care about how short and tight your mini dress is, just wants it off of you by the end of the night. when you first skipped into the living room, beaming as you showed off your outfit of choice to him, theo had to hold himself back from kissing you silly. just like keeho, the simple concept of his girlfriend wearing a revealing outfit doesn’t make him super possessive, but he does make himself known to onlookers as your boyfriend in other ways, whether that be holding your drink and purse for you without you even asking him to, or sneaking up behind you to pepper kisses along your neck when your in the middle of conversation with someone. he makes his presence known but also wants to ensure that you have a carefree, enjoyable night without feeling like you have to tend to your boyfriend the entire time. taeyang definitely does admire your cleavage when he gets the chance too though, shamelessly stares at your chest and just giggles in reply when you scold him for doing so… loves to flirt with you even more than he usually does tbh

𖧷 jiung

is the overly possessive boyfriend that will whine and beg you to change. in reality, he doesn’t actually expect you to change your outfit, but lets you know (whilst pouting) that although you look hot and he wants to devour you, he also is very nervous about the unwanted attention you might get. it’s not a bad thing really! jiung just wants to be the only man that gets to see you in such a tiny top. although he might complain at first, you don’t miss the obvious blush on his face, silently signaling to you that he secretly loves when you dress this way. he’s not a very touchy person, but that doesn’t mean that he won’t interlock your fingers the entire night, even giving your hand gentle squeezes when you give someone else a little too much attention for his liking. glares at anyone who might whistle at you or even just look in your general vicinity for a bit too long. quickly shuts down offers himself from other guys that have the balls to ask you to dance. yeah, your not being let out of his sight looking that good. he’s just obsessed with you and wants you all to himself, sorry!

𖧷 intak

actually is the one who helps you pick out your outfit! tak himself wants to spend the night out showing off his beautiful girlfriend so he purposely convinces you to wear the shortest denim skirt you own, paired with an equally revealing spaghetti strap crop top. comes up behind you when your adjusting your outfit in the mirror to wrap his arms around your waist and perch his chin on your right shoulder, shooting down any concerns you might have about your outfit being kind of “whorish” (your words, not his!). is your personal hype man. you look good and he’s gonna make you feel good. loves to watch you on the dance floor from a nearby barstool, having the time of your life with your friends. after you’ve tired yourself out, you walk towards him to join him at the bar and he doesn’t miss the opportunity to eye your entire body from top to bottom and let out an obnoxious whistle. he’s sooooo sweet frat boy coded… definitely asks if he can take a body shot off of you whilst winking and you just roll your eyes in response. when he ends up drunk out of his mind and you have to drag him inside your shared cab, he’s mumbling the sweetest praises to you before he falls asleep against your shoulder

𖧷 soul

doesn’t really have much to say, but his body language speaks for itself. like most of piwon, his possessiveness is at a minimum, and like intak, he loves when you feel confident enough to dress this way. maybe it’s the introvert in him, but he lives vicariously through your bold outfit choices. loves to give you kisses on your exposed collarbone as he smoothens out a crease on your silk skirt. he also loves the way your stomach peeks out of your cropped top, and he holds onto your waist when kissing you to circle his thumbs on the area. stares at you lovingly the entire night, and doesn’t falter when your eyes meet every now and then. he comes up to you towards the end of the night and whispers into your ear about how he thinks you look so pretty and that he loves this outfit. you definitely end up seeing a more vocal side of him when the alcohol kicks in, and you swoon at how lovey dovey his words are. he just wants you to feel pretty and confident and he ends up succeeding in proving that to you! makes really bad attempts at flirting which ends up in the pair of you laughing your asses off. overall shota makes you feel beautiful and you make mental notes to bring him out wearing revealing clothes more often

𖧷 jongseob

djsjdkajdjsj i have to write my boyfriend as clingy as possible. he’s definitely the type of boyfriend to sit on the end of your bed, aimlessly scrolling on his phone and taking little peeks at you every now and then while you’re doing your makeup on your vanity. when you finish your makeup and go to your closet to change into the tiny little dress you’ve chosen for the evening, you’re honestly a bit nervous as to how your boyfriend will react to how bodycon and short the attire is, but you look and feel hot and that encourages you to step out in front of him. he notices your presence right away and looks up at your face, then chest, then thighs, and then turns off and tucks his phone into his back pocket and grabs at you to sit on his lap. gives you the sweetest kiss imaginable and pulls away to look at you with disbelief. asks you something along the lines of “how did i get so lucky?” and his hands run all over the material of your dress. his boldness is new but very welcome and he spends a good while complimenting you, asking you where you bought this dress, and playing with your hair with a smug grin on his face. gets soooo excited to take you out and wastes no time in calling an uber so he can show you off to the world. feels like he’s on cloud 9!

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @theyluvsosa @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

𖧷 ₊ ° .

[python333]

task force 141 reacting to [reader] giving them a 'happy father's day' card — python333

— — — —

synopsis you give the tf141 boys some happy father's day cards!!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & younger!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost.

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign], reader is intended to be around 16/17-20/21 but can be interpreted as older as long as they're below 24 (just so that the headcanons make more sense), maybe ooc?

note i'm so sorry but there's no gaz in this one BUT i can explain why!! i was doing my research (going through three different tumblr posts) to figure out the actual age of each character and gaz is apparently 24?? in new updates or whatever?? anyway, even before i found that out, i could only ever imagine writing him as an older brother, simply because he doesn't feel fatherly to me but still has those protecive-familial vibes so if yall want me to write something on him being ur older brother then feel free to request/reply/comment or whatever and i will! :3 this is all comfort no hurt and pure fluff so enjoy!!

JOHN “BRAVO SIX” PRICE

➥ OH GOD.

➥ man i don’t even have daddy issues and i’m crying.

➥ gives you that one dad smile he has—y’all know the one. don’t pretend you don’t—and thanks you for it.

➥ gives you a lil hug too because why not?

➥ tears up just the tiniest bit but it’s pretty unnoticeable but i need you to know that it’s there.

➥ either keeps it propped up on his desk, in one of the drawers of his desk, or puts it in a small frame and puts that on or in his desk.

➥ definitely reads it at least once a week.

➥ he’s so genuinely flattered by it i think that after you leave his office he’d tear up a bit.

➥ you thought he was acting as a father figure to you before?

➥ be prepared for him to take it to a whole nother level.

➥ starts getting you cheesy birthday cards after you start giving him father’s day cards.

➥ is he a father biologically? no. is he one mentally, emotionally, and spiritually? absolutely.

—

You were reasonably pretty nervous.

It wasn’t ever really a secret that you and Price had some sort of father-child-like relationship, what with the amount of hair ruffles, head pats, shoulder pats, etc. that you’d received from him and the swatting at his hand with your own that you had given back. But none of that took away the nervousness you had when you gave Price a father’s day card for the first time.

It’s not that you thought that he would be weirded out by it, you just had a small habit of overthinking things, and this happened to be one of those things. The card didn’t say too much inside of it, a simple ‘happy father’s day!’ and a sentence you wrote that mentioned that you were grateful to know him. That’s it. That’s all it was. And yet, your hand shook as you held it, the other hand knocking on the door of Price’s office.

He nodded in greeting and opened it, and stepped out of the way to let you walk in and sit in front of his desk. He sat at his usual seat after shutting the door, and you set the card in your lap, not wanting him to see it just yet.

“Is there any particular reason why you wanted to come into my office?” Price asked, breaking the silence. You took a deep breath and nodded before you quickly handed over the card, slipping it onto his side of the desk. He took a good look at it for a moment, reading the ‘happy father’s day!’ on the front and looking over the cheesy illustration on the cover. You anxiously waited for him to say something as he simply stared at it, before he picked it up and opened it, reading the short few words that were written on the inside.

You watched as his expression melted into a softer one, and he stared at the card for another moment before wordlessly getting up. Before you could say anything, or question anything, he knelt down to the level of the chair you were sitting in and hugged you. You were frozen with surprise before you hugged him back, loosely wrapping your arms over his shoulders, a little confused by the hug but appreciating the embrace nonetheless. He rubbed your back for a quick moment before standing back up straight and patting your shoulder.

”Thank you,” He said, smiling down at you. “I really appreciated that, kiddo.”

Oh, wow. I don’t know why, but I think I might start crying. “Yeah—yeah, of course,” You’d replied, quickly getting up and giving Price a quick hug before swiftly walking to the door, “I’ll just, uh, I’ll be in my room. Or, actually, no, I’m gonna go—I’m gonna go bother Soap in his office, so if you need me I’ll be in there okaybyeCaptainI’llseeyoulater!” You rushed out, not looking back as you closed the door behind you.

Price had blinked at the door for a moment before huffing out a small laugh and sitting back down in his chair, looking at the card you’d given him one last time before sighing and letting himself tear up a bit. Eventually, after just sitting there and staring at the card, he unlocked one of the few locked drawers at the bottom of his desk and put the card there, for safekeeping.

—

JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH

➥ he’s so excited when he reads that card.

➥ he’s so flattered?? and is so happy?? and oh my god he might pass out?? from all the positive emotions he feels??

➥ be careful with what you say because you might break him beyond repair.

➥ it’s like you’ve given a puppy it’s first treat, honestly.

➥ won’t cry but is very close to!!

➥ will definitely show off the card to everyone.

➥ when i say everyone i mean EVERYONE.

➥ he will talk everyone’s ear off about it, no matter who they are or what they’re doing, hell, the man could be pissing with his dick out at the urinals and everything and he’ll still be ranting to the poor soul in the bathroom about what a sweetheart you are and how you gave him a father’s day card.

➥ he starts calling you ‘lamb’ and ‘duckie’ after the whole ordeal.

➥ no i didn’t ask chatgpt for terms of endearment scottish parents use for their children haha!!

➥ he buys a corkboard just to pin the card to in his office.

➥ like it’s literally just in the middle, nothing else on the corkboard, just that singular father’s day card.

➥ the whole thing is just reserved for father’s day cards tbh. he hopes to fill it up with as many cards as you’ll give him, and if you only give him the one, then damn it, the corkboard’s only gonna have one thing on it and whoever questions it can mind their damn business.

—

You didn’t really know what to expect with Soap when you gave him the card.

You felt pretty confident giving it to him, knowing the guy could probably receive a rock with googly eyes on it from you and still cry tears of joy knowing you gave it to him of all people, so giving this card to him was no big deal, right?

You found him in the recreational center, lounging on the couch, reading a book—shocking, I know—and quietly reading the words out loud to himself. The moment you had entered the center, though, he looked up from his book and nodded in greeting at you with a smile on his face and watched as you walked over to him.

Before he could say anything, you quickly put the card in his lap and watched as he looked up at you, a surprised and amused expression on his face.

“What’s this?” He asked, not looking down at the card just yet.

“Read it,” You’d insisted, gesturing towards the card in his lap. He blinked at you for a moment before muttering, “Alright, then,” under his breath and looking down at the card. He picked it up and read the three short words on the front and looked over the illustration on the cover, and the moment the words registered in his brain, his face broke out into a grin and he looked up at you.

“Aww, this is sae sweet,” Soap gushed, “Thank ye!”

He got up before you could talk and hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground a bit, cooing, “Ye're jist the sweetest, ma God, when did ye get the card?”

“I got it a while ago,” You had admitted, “Decided to give it to you now.”

Soap set you down and put both of his hands on your shoulders, gently rubbing circles into them with his thumb, looking down at you with an elated grin, "I'm gonnae hang this up in ma office—I'll get a corkboard an' everything, jist for this."

You looked up at him with a confused, but amused look on your face, asking, “And you’re just gonna hang that card on there?”

He nodded in confirmation and responded, “Aye, it'll be deid center, naething else on there."

—

SIMON “GHOST” RILEY

➥ oh my goodness.

➥ the moment you hand him the card, it’s like he already knows what it is without reading it.

➥ probably thinks it’s a joke at first.

➥ when he realizes that you’re serious he straight up tears up.

➥ like in front of you and everything he’ll tear up.

➥ “... Are you crying?” ghost, tearing up and literally about to start sobbing, "No.”

➥ he treasures that thing and would literally cease to exist if he ever lost it or if it got destroyed.

➥ won’t flaunt it at all, instead he keeps it in the pocket of a jacket he never wears anymore.

➥ if you ever give him more cards, he’ll consider getting a box to keep them in.

➥ he’s always called you ‘kid’ but after this he starts calling you ‘kiddo’.

➥ THERE’S A DIFFERENCE. I CANNOT TELL YOU WHAT IT IS BUT THERE IS A DIFFERENCE.

➥ listen kiddo is more affectionate and its softer and its not as playful as kid its more personal and and and [explodes]

➥ the others notice the small change in behavior he has towards you (being more lighthearted with his teasing, generally being less cold with you, etc.) and will tease him endlessly about it.

➥ by others i mean soap and gaz. those two team up and tease him to death.

➥ he could care less though!! he tells himself that they’re idiots anyway and that his behavior hasn’t changed that much.

➥ he’s in denial and i think that him and me are the same fr.

—

You had practically searched every corner, crevice, nook, and cranny of the base searching for Ghost. When you finally found him, he was in the armory and weapons room cleaning the barrel of his rifle, hyperfocused on wiping away the gunk on the gun. You stopped by the door, hesitating in giving him the card. It really shouldn’t be that hard, You thought, What’s the worst that could happen?

You were aware that there were many things that could happen, most of which were bad, but you ignored them for the sake of building up your confidence to give him the card. You stood there for a while, just sort of staring at him, before he—not even looking up from his gun—called out to you with a simple yet firm, “Do you need something?”

You probably could’ve died right there, his firm voice almost completely shattering your confidence for reasons you couldn’t specify, but you instead cleared your throat and walked out of the doorway and completely into the room. You walked over to him and before he could ask any further questions you held the card out to him, your hand having a small tremble to it, an uncomfortably visible display of your nervousness.

He stared at the card for a moment before setting down the cloth he was using to clean his gun and grabbing it, reading the front for a moment before huffing out a small laugh and looking up at you to tease you for it. He was going to tell you what a ‘funny’ joke it was, to tell you to just go do whatever work you’re probably skipping out on when he sees the look on your face that tells him that you’re pretty serious about the card.

He looked back down at the card and read it again, the words ‘happy father’s day’ echoing through his mind as he opened it. He read the few short words on the inside of the card and the shitty drawing of a ghost right next to one that was scribbled out—because of course you had to use pen and weren’t satisfied with the first ghost you drew even though Ghost could make out through the scribbles that they practically looked the same.

You were pretty nervous the longer the silence stretched out, and you were about to take back the card and go jump off a cliff to avoid ever looking at Ghost again when suddenly you hear a sniffle.

“Are you… are you crying?” You’d asked, more confused than nervous now, watching as Ghost shook his head negatively and continued to stare at the inside of the card.

“No,” He answered, sniffling again.

“... You sure?” You’d asked again, far less nervous now, your tone becoming more teasing.

“Positive.” Ghost said firmly, though his voice had wavered a bit. He looked up at you and reached his hand up to give you a pat on the shoulder, muttering, “Thank you for that, kiddo.”

"Yeah, no problem," You had said back, smiling down at Ghost before taking a step back, "I'll leave you to keep cleaning your gun, or whatever."

Ghost had simply nodded and looked back at the table where your card and his gun laid, and you didn't stay long enough to watch him tear up all over again at the sight of the letter.

[03jyh23]

— shooting stars!  || park seonghwa

loosely inspired by the drama shitting stars!

Most people aren’t interested in the truth. They just casually gossip to entertain themselves. No one takes responsibility for the caused pain.

idol!seonghwa x prmanager!reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut

trigger warnings: vanilla sex, honestly there's not much just kissing, touching, and... lovemaking. really soft smut. it's embarrassing, jealousy, argument, emotional distress, career-related stress, and difficult decisions

words: 8.2 k

reminder: what you're about to read is purely fiction, so let's keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! this is my longest story so far! i've been working on it like crazy for the past few days and here we finally are. so the smut... it's not really a smut but still? i tried oh god, i feel so embarrassed but yeah i just decided to go for it. it's again requested work but i actually changed some of it to fit into my idea... anyway thank you so much for requesting!

love, monika. ♡

if you enjoyed this post, i'd be so grateful for a little love – a like or comment would truly make my day!

The office in Mapo-gu, Seoul, felt stiflingly hot, despite having already downed three cups of iced coffee. With the air conditioning out of order and repairs not scheduled until two days later, you found yourself drowning in a sea of work. Who would have imagined that working at a medium-sized entertainment agency would entail such an overwhelming workload? You should have felt grateful for landing this job, considering the effort you had put into securing it, but at times, it felt overwhelmingly demanding. Being the head of the PR department at KQ Entertainment was certainly something to boast about, especially after ATEEZ's success. You joined the company a few years back when you were the sole member of the PR team. If you claimed you believed in the company's success from the beginning, you'd be lying. When you first entered, fear outweighed optimism regarding the future. Indeed, it was no small feat for eight teenage boys to shoulder the weight of an entire company, but ATEEZ rose to the challenge with unwavering determination and passion. Now, with two active bands under KQ's wings, you find yourself constantly occupied.  

Managing the members of ATEEZ was undoubtedly a challenging task, and surprisingly, it wasn't due to any misbehavior on their part. Despite their young age and the temptations that come with fame, the ATEEZ members remained remarkably grounded and focused on their careers. You truly admired that. But when a band from such a small company starts gaining momentum, rumors are bound to circulate. Your main priority was to prevent those rumors from leaking. Which wasn't easy, as people can be cruel when they're envious. But still, to this day ATEEZ has not been involved in any major scandals, which made you proud.  

In a small company like KQ, everybody knows each other. Initially, stepping into that environment, you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous around the members of ATEEZ. Their presence seemed to exude a magnetic energy that was both captivating and intimidating. As you interacted with them more and more, you realized that their aura was indeed something special. Each member brought their own unique charm and personality to the table. You and the members of ATEEZ grew slightly closer than others, due to your similar ages, but it was Seonghwa who stood out to you the most. His effortless humor, kindness, and genuine care for others made him a favorite. Right from the start, you felt drawn to him. However, you maintained a professional demeanor, knowing all too well the potential consequences of getting too close, especially considering his status as an idol. But at some point, company dinners and parties became regular occasions, where you celebrated each of ATEEZ’s success together. And as the alcohol in your system increased, your professionalism decreased. Your bond with Seonghwa deepened, you found yourself drawn to him more than ever before. Whether it was sharing drinks, engaging in playful games, or simply relishing heartfelt conversations over company dinner, you cherished every moment spent in his company. With each passing interaction, your admiration for him grew, and before you knew it, you were falling head over heels for him. Despite the looming fear of crossing a line you couldn't return from; you couldn't resist him. What started as a professional relationship evolved into something much deeper and more profound. The shy touches and lingering glances exchanged between you spoke volumes, conveying emotions that words alone couldn't express. In the midst of loud music and bustling crowds, you found yourselves leaning closer to each other, seeking solace in the warmth of each other's presence. His hand naturally gravitated to your waist whenever you stood side by side, a silent yet undeniable declaration of the connection you shared. 

The day had been long and exhausting, and you were just about ready to call it quits when the sudden intrusion of your boss jolted you from your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see him standing in the doorway, a look of excitement and urgency written across his face. 

"Y/N! Have you heard?" he exclaimed; his voice filled with anticipation. You blinked in surprise, your exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you leaned forward in your chair.  

"Heard what?" you asked, curiosity piqued. Your boss couldn't contain his grin as he delivered the news.  

"ATEEZ just sold out an entire US Tour!" The words hung in the air, sinking in slowly as you processed their significance. And then, without warning, a surge of elation washed over you, and before you knew it, you were on your feet, a joyful scream escaping your lips. 

"What?" you exclaimed, unable to contain your excitement. Without a second thought, you rushed forward, enveloping your boss in a tight hug, overcome with happiness at the incredible news. It was a moment of pure exhilaration, a testament to the hard work and dedication of everyone involved in ATEEZ's journey. The exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment. The excitement in your boss's voice was contagious as he patted your back, a wide grin spreading across his face.  

"We are celebrating tonight!" he declared with enthusiasm, his words echoing through the office. A surge of anticipation raced through you at the prospect of celebrating ATEEZ's incredible achievement.  

"Absolutely!" you replied eagerly, already picturing the party ahead. With a playful wink, your boss continued,  

"So go back to your place, doll up, and I'll see you here at 7 sharp!" You nodded enthusiastically, a smile stretching from ear to ear.  

"You got it!" You exclaimed, already mentally planning your outfit for the evening. As you made your way out of the office, the excitement of the impending celebration filled you with renewed energy. With a spring in your step and a heart full of anticipation, you packed up your belongings and bid farewell to the office for the day. The thought of celebrating ATEEZ's success and the prospect of finally seeing Seonghwa filled you with an infectious excitement that bubbled within you. As you made your way through the bustling streets, the anticipation only grew stronger. The familiar sights and sounds of the city seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the promise of the evening ahead. Tonight was a night for celebration, a chance to toast to ATEEZ's success and revel in the joy of being surrounded by friends and colleagues. But above all else, it was a night to be reunited with Seonghwa, and you couldn't wait to see where the evening would take you. With a smile on your face and excitement in your heart, you pushed open the door to your apartment.  

After a quick shower to freshen up and wash away the cares of the day, you set about styling your hair and applying my makeup with meticulous care. With the luxury of extra time on your hands, you paid attention to every detail to ensure that you looked and felt your best for the evening ahead. After finishing your make-up, you reached out for your phone resting on the nightstand, your heart skipping a beat as you saw Seonghwa's name flashing on the screen. A surge of excitement coursed through you as you answered the call, eager to hear his voice after what felt like an eternity apart. 

"Hello?" You said, your voice tinged with anticipation as you brought the phone to your ear, butterflies dancing in your stomach. 

"Hey, it's me," Seonghwa's voice came through the line, warm and familiar, sending a rush of warmth through you. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Hi, Seonghwa. I was just thinking about you." There was a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a soft chuckle.  

"Funny, I was just thinking about you too," he said, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I will see you tonight, right?"  

"Absolutely, I wouldn't miss it for anything," you replied without hesitation, "We definitely need to celebrate!" 

"Honestly, the only thing that matters is that I will finally see you," Seonghwa's voice came through the phone, filled with warmth and affection. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you replied,  

"Same here, Seonghwa. I've missed you." And as you exchanged a few more words of affection and excitement, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to be reunited once more. With a renewed sense of anticipation and joy, you ended the call, a sense of warmth and happiness lingering in your heart. Tonight was going to be a night to remember, and you couldn't wait to see Seonghwa's smiling face once more. 

Choosing the perfect outfit for the evening was challenging. On one hand, you wanted to look your best – to make a memorable impression on Seonghwa after being apart for so long due to his overseas schedule. But on the other hand, you didn't want to appear overdressed or out of place at the party. After rummaging through your wardrobe for what felt like an eternity, you finally settled on something. Opting for a timeless and sophisticated look, you selected a classic black shirt for the evening's celebration. Deciding to add a touch of allure to the ensemble, you opted to leave the top few buttons of the shirt undone, revealing a hint of skin. It was a small gesture, but it added just the right amount of intrigue to the outfit. Paired with a simple black skirt that hit just in the middle of your tights, the combination was effortlessly sexy. The monochromatic palette created a sleek and cohesive look that was eye-catching. With a few carefully chosen accessories – a delicate, gold necklace, a pair of understated earrings, and a sleek clutch – you completed the outfit. As you admired your reflection in the mirror, a sense of excitement washed over you. Tonight was going to be a night to remember. 

You entered the company building, the air was filled with electric energy, a tangible sense of excitement pulsating through the air. Everywhere you looked, you could see signs of preparation – colorful balloons swaying gently in the breeze, banners hanging from the walls, and a festive atmosphere that filled the space with warmth and joy. A smile spread across your lips as you took in the sight before you, feeling a surge of excitement building within you. It was clear that everyone had gone to great lengths to ensure that tonight's celebration would be a night to remember, a fitting tribute to ATEEZ's incredible achievement. With each step you took, the anticipation continued to build, fueled by the excitement of finally being reunited with Seonghwa and the rest of the ATEEZ members. After exchanging greetings with everyone and soaking in the festive atmosphere, you found yourself nestled in a cozy corner of the room, a drink in hand. As you scanned the bustling room, your heart skipped a beat with each familiar face that passed by, hoping to catch sight of Seonghwa among the crowd, but he was nowhere to be found.  

"Y/N!" As you heard your name called from across the room, you turned your head in the direction of the sound. Through the sea of people, you spotted a familiar face. 

"San!" You greeted him enthusiastically as he approached, a genuine smile spreading across your face at the sight of him. San was always such a warm and friendly presence, and you were genuinely glad that he had come over to you. "Congratulations!" you exclaimed as San pulled you in a warm hug. With a smile, you pulled back from the hug, meeting his gaze with genuine happiness in your eyes. "I'm so happy for you, San," you said sincerely, knowing that his success was well-deserved.  

"It's truly incredible," San replied, a smile tugging at his lips as he raised his glass to clink it against yours. The sound of glass meeting glass echoed through the room, a toast to success. "It's moments like these that make all the hard work worth it," San said, you nodded with agreement. "Here's to many more successes and celebrations to come." with a smile, you took another sip of your drink, savoring the moment and feeling grateful for the opportunity to share it with a friend like San. 

''Y/N! You look amazing!' You didn't notice when Hongjoong approached you, 

"Thank you!" You replied, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. Before you could react, Hongjoong took your hand and spun you around gently, causing laughter to bubble up from within you. His eyes scanned you appreciatively, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks under his gaze. It was a simple gesture, but it filled you with a sense of happiness.  

"Am I interrupting something?" As the question hung in the air, you turned your gaze away from Hongjoong and met Seonghwa's eyes, feeling a rush of emotions wash over you. His presence seemed to fill the room, drawing you in with an intensity that was both exhilarating and unnerving. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes, a silent exchange passing between you both. In that moment, it felt as though the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you standing there, caught in a moment. 

"No, not at all," you replied, as you tore your gaze away from Seonghwa's, turning back to face San and Hongjoong. "We were just catching up." your mind remained fixed on Seonghwa, unable to shake the feeling of his presence lingering in the air.  

"I was just telling her how amazing she looks tonight," As Hongjoong's words filled the air, a warm smile spread across your face at his kind gesture. It was a small reassurance amid the tension that lingered between Seonghwa and you, 

"Thank you, Hongjoong," you replied with genuine gratitude, meeting his gaze briefly before turning back to face Seonghwa once more. His eyes bore into yours, and you couldn't help but wonder what thoughts lay behind Seonghwa's gaze. 

''We will leave you two alone and say hi to the rest of the team.'' San spoke, as he took Hongjoong by his arm, and pulled him behind. 

"Of course," you replied, nodding in understanding as San and Hongjoong made their way towards the rest of the team. They disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. 

“I don’t like the way they look at you” Seonghwa's words hung in the air, breaking the silence with a weight that you couldn't ignore. His voice was soft, tinged with a hint of concern that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and curiosity at his sudden confession.  

"What do you mean?" you asked. There was a depth to his words that hinted at something more, and you found yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to elaborate. Seonghwa sighed, his expression troubled as he struggled to find the right words.  

"I mean... I just don't like the way they look at you," he confessed, his voice strained with emotion. His admission caught you off guard, and you were at a loss for how to respond. "It drives me crazy." As he downed his drink in one swift motion, you could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.  

"Seonghwa, are you... jealous?" you asked tentatively, your heart pounding in your chest. His eyes widened at your question, and for a moment, he was speechless. 

"Jealous?" Seonghwa repeated, seemingly taken aback by your question. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours as if he was trying to find the answer himself. After a moment of silence, he let out a soft chuckle, his gaze dropping to his hands. "Maybe I am," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The intensity of his confession made your heart flutter, and a blush crept up your cheeks. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair, a sign of his nervousness that you had come to recognize. 

"I just... I care about you, you know?" He looked up at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you hadn't seen before. It was a look of protectiveness, of possessiveness, but also of vulnerability. And in that moment, you realized that perhaps Seonghwa's feelings ran deeper than you had initially thought. Your moment was abruptly interrupted by someone calling his name from across the room. Your heart sank slightly, realizing that you wouldn't have the opportunity to delve deeper into the conversation. Seonghwa glanced at you apologetically, his expression filled with regret. 

"I'll be right back," he promised, his voice tinged with disappointment. You nodded in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile despite the lingering questions in your mind.  

"Take your time," you replied, watching as he made his way through the crowd, his figure disappearing into the throng of people. Left alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder about the true meaning behind Seonghwa's words. His confession had stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within you, and you longed for the chance to delve deeper into it. But for now, all you could do was wait, hoping for the opportunity to continue your conversation when the time was right.  

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in a whirlwind of conversations and celebrations, the opportunity to continue the conversation with Seonghwa slipping further and further away with each passing moment. Seonghwa seemed to be caught up in the festivities as well, pulled in different directions by the demands of the evening. Despite your best efforts to find a moment alone with him, the bustling atmosphere of the party made it difficult to carve out the time for a private conversation. Seonghwa was constantly surrounded by friends and colleagues, and you found yourself pulled in different directions as well, engaging in lively discussions and catching up with the rest of the team.  

The atmosphere in the company was quiet, with only the faint echoes of the recent party lingering in the air. As the party slowly wound down and the last of the guests trickled out of the door, you found yourself alone in the room, left to clean up the aftermath. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps approached, and you turned to find Seonghwa lingering in the doorway.  

"Can I help you clean up?" he asked, his voice gentle and earnest. You nodded, appreciating his offer of help and the chance to speak with him once again. 

"Of course, thank you, Seonghwa." You replied, welcoming his company. Together, you started to pick up the scattered cups and plates, the silence between you comfortable yet filled with anticipation. Seonghwa worked diligently, making quick work of the mess. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, admiring his focus. When he finished, he looked up and met your gaze, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"It's much easier with two people," he commented, breaking the silence. You agreed and thanked him again for his help. The room was now clean, but neither of you made a move to leave. Seonghwa finally broke the silence.  

"About what I said earlier," he began, hesitating slightly. You nodded, indicating that you were listening. He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before he continued. "I meant what I said. I care about you... more than I probably should." His words echoed in the empty room; the atmosphere suddenly heavy. You looked at him, surprised by his confession but also relieved. His feelings mirrored your own, and you found yourself smiling at him. 

"I care about you too, Seonghwa," you replied, his face lit up at your words, and for the first time that evening, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. 

"Can I kiss you?" His words sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, and without hesitation, you reached out to gently cup his face in your hands. 

"Yes," you whispered, Seonghwa’s eyes twinkled with happiness at your answer. You could feel your heart pound against your chest in anticipation. Seonghwa’s touch was gentle yet commanding as he pulled you closer by your waist, drawing you into his embrace with a magnetic force that was impossible to resist. As his touch sent shivers cascading down your spine, your body reacted instinctively, responding to the electrifying sensation with an intensity that took your breath away. Every nerve seemed to ignite with a fiery spark as his fingertips grazed your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensation. Seonghwa's lips were warm and soft against yours, each gentle brush sending sparks of electricity dancing across your skin. The moment his lips met yours, everything around melted away. All you could feel was him; his lips on yours, his heartbeat echoing your own. The kiss was soft, tender, filled with all the emotions that had been building up between you. With each press of Seonghwa’s lips against yours, you felt yourself melting into his touch, losing yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his embrace. Your heart pounded furiously in your chest, a steady rhythm echoing the urgency of the desire that coursed through you. With each caress, your senses were heightened, attuned to every nuance of his touch. It was as if a spark had been ignited within you, setting your entire being ablaze with a fierce longing that threatened to consume you whole.  

"Seonghwa, we shouldn't," you whispered breathlessly against his lips as you pulled away, a pang of hesitation gnawing at your heart.  

"Why not?" He murmured, his breath hitching as he stared at you with a look of surprise and confusion. His words resonated within you, forcing you to confront the fear that had been lingering at the back of your mind. You swallowed hard, your mind wrestling with the feelings that had been building up inside you. 

"You're an idol, Seonghwa, and I... I work for your PR team," you started, your voice barely a whisper. You watched as the confusion in his eyes shifted to understanding, his grip on your waist loosening slightly. "The rules... the... the consequences," you stuttered, your heart pounding as you tried to put your fears into words. "We could get caught... I could lose my job... and it could ruin your career." For a moment, Seonghwa was silent, absorbing your words. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his feelings and the harsh reality of the world you both lived in. But then, he pulled you closer, his eyes never leaving yours. 

"I understand," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest. "But I can't help how I feel about you. We'll figure this out... together." You tried to say something, to voice the concerns still swirling in your mind, but Seonghwa shook his head and placed a finger on your lips.  

"Shhh... I've waited too long for this," he murmured, and before you could respond, he leaned in once again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss that left no room for argument. His touch was electrifying, his lips hungry and insistent against yours, and you found yourself returning his fervor with equal intensity. There was no gentleness, no tender caresses. Instead, your kiss was raw and unbridled, fueled by a primal hunger that threatened to consume you both. With each brush of your lips, the barriers that had once held you back crumbled, giving way to an overwhelming surge of desire. In the heat of the moment, there was no room for hesitation or doubt. All that mattered was the fiery connection that blazed between you, igniting a flame that burned brighter with each passing second. And as you lost yourselves in the intoxicating rush of passion, you knew that there was no turning back. As the world around you melted away, you found the courage to voice the words that had been on the tip of your tongue.  

"Let's go to my place," you breathed out, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited for his response. Seonghwa looked at you, a slight surprise in his eyes. Then a slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features into a look of pure happiness.  

"I'd love to," he replied, his voice husky. You reached out, gently grasping Seonghwa's wrist and pulling him to follow you. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but there was a glimmer of excitement mirrored in their depths. With a sense of urgency, you swiftly took your purse. Every movement was propelled by a heady mix of anticipation and desire, your heart pounding in rhythm with the rapid pace of your thoughts. As you made your way to the back door, Seonghwa paused for a moment, reaching for his jacket, glasses, and a mask before stepping outside. You were struck by his thoughtfulness and attention to detail. In that simple gesture, you saw a glimpse of the considerate and caring person he was beneath the surface. With a soft smile, you followed, grabbing your own jacket and slipping on a mask before joining Seonghwa outside. The cool night air greeted you as you stepped onto the pavement, wrapping you in its embrace. Feeling the warmth of Seonghwa's hand intertwining with yours sent a jolt of electricity. With your fingers intertwined, you set off together, following the familiar way that would lead you to your apartment. You couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude as you made your way through the quiet streets, it was a relief to know that your apartment was only a short distance away from the company. 

As soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, Seonghwa pulled you hard into his chest, your bodies pressing on each other. His kisses became more urgent, his grip on you tighter as if he was afraid you would disappear. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss that left you breathless, his taste intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. In this moment, there was no room for remorse or second thoughts, only the overpowering need for each other. You were lost in him, in the overwhelming sensation of his touch, his taste, his scent. As the intensity of your shared passion escalated, Seonghwa moved to unbutton your shirt, his fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. 

"Wait," you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark and filled with desire, but he stopped at your words, his hands coming to rest on your waist as he waited for you to continue. "I... I just want to make sure we're both on the same page," you said softly, voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. "I care about you, Seonghwa, more than I can put into words. But I want it to mean something, for both of us." As you spoke, you searched his expression for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but all you found was a profound sense of understanding and respect. In that moment, you were sure that Seonghwa shared your desire for something deeper, something more meaningful than just physical intimacy. His lips curved into a tender smile, and he reached up to gently cup your cheek in his hand.  

"I understand," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want this to mean something too, Y/N. More than anything. I’m not leaving you." With those words, the last of your doubts melted away, leaving only a sense of trust and connection between you. His touch, careful and loving, trailed down your body, taking the time to appreciate every inch of you. Seonghwa’s fingers traced over your skin, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake. He took his time, his hands exploring you as if he was memorizing every curve, every line of your body. Your hands found their way to his hair, tugging gently at the soft strands. He let out a soft groan, his hot breath fanning against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His lips found yours again, stealing your breath away with the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning it and tossing it aside. His gaze was full of admiration and desire as he looked at you, his eyes taking in your form.  

"You're beautiful, Y/N," he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. You blushed, a smile spreading across your lips at his words. Seonghwa leaned in, pressing kisses along your neck, collarbones, down to your chest. His hands finally moved to unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His touch was electrifying, each kiss sending waves of pleasure through your body. Seonghwa was patient, taking his time to make you feel loved, and cherished. He moved lower, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. You arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him closer to where you needed him. "So impatient," Seonghwa commented as he moved back up, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer. Craving the feel of his skin against yours, your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it and pushing it off his shoulders. You took a moment to admire him, your gaze trailing over his muscular chest, and the defined abs. Seonghwa was beautiful, every inch of him perfect. You reached out, your fingers tracing over his skin, feeling the warmth radiating from him. Seonghwa’s hands roamed your body, the touch igniting a fire within you. He moved lower once again, his lips trailing down your stomach, making you gasp with anticipation. His hands moved to your skirt, unzipping it and sliding it down your legs. Seonghwa’s lips found the skin on your thighs, his hands gently creasing them, each touch sending waves of desire coursing through you. His lips moved up your tight, his lips finding all your sensitive spots, making you arch your back and gasp out his name. You felt his breath dangerously close to your panties, which by now were soaked completely with your arousal.  

"Seonghwa," you moaned, your voice thick with longing as you arched your back, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that washed over you. "Not here," you murmured, your voice trembling as looked down on him with a mixture of desire and urgency. "Bedroom... Let's go to the bedroom." Seonghwa, with a deep and magnetic gaze that held you captive, guided you gently towards the bedroom. He led you to the edge of the bed, his hands never leaving your body. Carefully, with an affectionate touch, he laid you down on the soft sheets. Seonghwa's gaze was intense but tender, as if he was committing every detail of you to memory. The look in his eyes held a fervor that was both thrilling and comforting. The last piece of your clothing was slowly discarded, your lace panties landing softly on the floor. His hands, now free to explore, traced a path of heat down your bare body, each touch igniting a spark of anticipation. He kissed you deeply, a promise of more to come, before his eyes met yours once more. Seonghwa's gaze was full of adoration and hunger, a testament to the intimate connection that was about to deepen. Slowly, Seonghwa began to undress himself, his movements unhurried and deliberate. As the last piece of his clothing dropped to the floor, he positioned himself atop you, his bare skin against yours sending tremors of desire coursing through your veins. His eyes continued to hold your gaze, their depths reflecting the shared anticipation of the intimate moment that was about to unfold. 

"Is this alright?" Seonghwa whispered against your lips. 

"Yes," you murmured, your voice barely more than a whisper, "Yes, Seonghwa... I'm yours." Your affirmation seemed to ignite something within him. A slow, intoxicating smile spread across his face, his dark eyes twinkling with a mixture of love, desire, and a hint of possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine. His gaze never wavered from yours, maintaining eye contact as he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a searing, passionate kiss. One of his hands, tender and firm, cradled your face, his thumb gently brushing against your cheeks. With the other one he steadied himself between your legs, and you finally felt him entering you slowly and gently, his movements measured and full of care. The feeling was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intensity but filled with a tenderness that only Seonghwa could provide. As Seonghwa moved, you felt a surge of pleasure that left you gasping, your fingers trailing over his back, your nails gently digging into his skin. His name fell from your lips in a breathless whisper, the syllables intertwining with the soft moans and gasps that filled the room. Each thrust heightened the pleasure, building up tension that had you moaning his name louder. He responded to your every sound, his movements shifting and adapting to your responses. It was as if he was attuned to every part of you, each touch designed to elicit the maximum pleasure. 

"Seonghwa," you moaned, as he continued to move, his rhythm steady and deliberate. He looked down at you, his gaze filled with love and desire, his expression mirroring the pleasure coursing through you. "I’m close" you whimpered as the pleasure started to overwhelm you. 

"I know, baby," he responded, his voice low and soothing. His eyes never left yours, holding your gaze as the room around you both seemed to fade. Each of his movements were measured, calculated to draw the maximum response from you. He knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and he wasn't afraid to take his time in delivering it. Seonghwa was completely in tune with your body, knowing just how to touch you, how to move, to bring you to the edge. A gasp escaped your lips as his rhythm increased, the intensity building as he moved. His name was a whispered prayer on your lips, the only word you could manage as you clung to him. The world around you narrowed to the feeling of him, the sight of him, the sound of him, the scent of him. 

"Let go baby," he murmured against your ear, his voice a soothing balm, grounding you in the moment. With a few more deep movements, he guided you both to the peak of your shared pleasure. The feeling was indescribable, a release of tension that left you both panting and gasping for breath. And through it all, Seonghwa was there with you, his gaze never leaving yours, his love and desire for you clear in his eyes. As the waves of pleasure subsided, Seonghwa collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. He held you close, his heart beating in time with yours as you both lay there in silence, the echoes of your shared climax still reverberating through your bodies. Seonghwa’s fingers traced idle patterns on your skin, a soothing gesture that eased the lingering tremors racking your body. His lips pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, the tenderness of the gesture making your heart flutter. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His concern was palpable, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.  

"More than okay," you assured him, reaching up to brush a stray lock of hair from his sweaty forehead. His answering smile was warm and genuine, a sight that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. 

"Good," he murmured, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breathing slowly became more regular, his body relaxing as he basked in the afterglow. You laid there, tangled in each other's arms, your heartbeats syncing in the quiet. There was no need for words now, the silence between you was comfortable and familiar. As you drifted off to sleep, his arms tightened around you.  

You were suddenly awakened by the sound of Seonghwa's voice, harsh and irritated, a stark contrast to the gentle tone you had grown accustomed to. His distressed voice pierced the calm tranquility of the early morning as he was on the phone, pacing around the room with furrowed brows, clearly in frustration. As you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you noticed your phone blinking on the bedside table. Forty-three missed calls. A wave of chilly dread filled you as you unlocked your phone to see the flood of messages and notifications. The first one you clicked on made your heart drop. Pictures of you and Seonghwa, walking to your apartment, your hands intertwined, were plastered all over various media outlets. The headlines screamed about Seonghwa's secret relationship, a shocking revelation that seemed to have hit the fandom like a lightning bolt. The comments section was a whirlpool of emotions - shock, betrayal, and surprisingly, support. As you scrolled through the articles, you could barely register the words. This was your worst nightmare coming to life, the very reason you hesitated to start a relationship with Seonghwa in the first place. Seonghwa finished his call and turned to you, his face unnaturally pale.  

"It's all over the news," he said, his voice barely a whisper. The room felt suffocating as a heavy silence descended upon it, both of you too stunned to utter a word. The reality of the situation was sinking in, unfolding a terrifying scenario that you both had dreaded. Your mind was racing, scrambling to make sense of the situation. All your worst fears were coming to life - the fear of getting caught, of losing your job, and of potentially damaging Seonghwa's career. This was the adverse consequence of your secret relationship, the one you had feared and tried to prevent from the very beginning. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you couldn't help but feel a pang of regret. Your anger flared as you dialed your boss's number, your hands shaking as you held the phone to your ear. He picked up on the second ring, his voice tense, 

"You need to do your job and stop this information from spreading," he demanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You felt your heart clench at his words, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you fired back,  

"How am I supposed to do that when I'm the one involved?" The line crackled with tension as you braced yourself for your boss's response, knowing that your conversation was about to take a heated turn. 

"You're involved!?" His voice was sharp, laced with disbelief and a hint of anger. "How could you let this happen, Y/N? Do you have any idea what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into?" His words hit you like a slap in the face, and you felt a surge of anger rising within you.  

"I didn't 'let' anything happen," you shot back, your own voice rising with frustration. "This isn't something I planned or wanted. And as for the mess, believe me, I'm well aware of it." There was a tense pause on the other end of the line, the silence filled with unspoken accusations and bitter recriminations. You could practically feel your boss's disappointment radiating through the phone, a heavy weight pressing down on you with each passing second. 

"We need to contain this," he said finally, his tone clipped and businesslike. "Handle the damage control on our end, write a press release. Stay out of the public eye, keep your head down, and for god's sake, don't make things worse." You clenched your jaw, struggling to keep your emotions in check as you listened to his instructions.  

"And what about Seonghwa?" you demanded, unable to suppress the edge of desperation in your voice. There was another pause, longer this time, as your boss considered his response.  

"Seonghwa knew what he was getting into when he chose this life," he said finally, his voice oddly cold and unsympathetic. "He's a public figure, and he needs to accept the consequences of his actions. Just like you do." The words hung between you, a bitter reminder of the harsh reality you were both facing. As you hung up the phone, a sense of resignation settled over you, knowing that no matter how much you wanted to protect Seonghwa, there were forces at play far beyond your control. Seonghwa, who had been a silent witness to your conversation, finally broke his silence. His sobs filled the room, each one stabbing you like a knife to the heart. You turned to him, your eyes filled with regret and sorrow.  

"I was supposed to be the one protecting you," you said, your voice choked with tears. You could see the pain in his eyes, reflecting your own as you confessed, "This was a mistake. I'm going to get fired, Seonghwa. There's no future for us." His face crumpled at your words, a look of utter devastation replacing his earlier confusion. 

"No, Y/N, please..." he pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you." he retorted, his voice filled with a mixture of anger and despair. His words hit you like a punch to the gut. As the silence settled in the room, you felt a lump forming in your throat. The harsh reality of the situation was too overwhelming to comprehend. The words that had been exchanged between you two still echoed in your ears, haunting you. The room, once filled with love and warmth, now felt cold and distant. The air was heavy with unspoken words and suppressed emotions. Seonghwa, his eyes red and swollen from crying, looked at you. His usual cheerful demeanor was now replaced with a look of sadness and despair. He seemed like a completely different person. Seeing him like this broke your heart even more, the reality of the situation dawning on you. 

"I... I need some time," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He got up from the bed, picked up his clothes from the floor and walked towards the bathroom, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, numb and silent, as you processed everything that had happened. You felt a sense of guilt wash over you, realizing that your actions had led to this mess. Picking up your phone, you answered the incoming call from one of the reporters.  

"This is a delicate matter, and we are currently fact-checking all the information," you replied, maintaining a professional tone. "We will be releasing an official press statement soon regarding the matter. Thank you for your understanding." 

For the next several minutes, you found yourself answering a seemingly endless stream of phone calls, bombarded with the same questions over and over again. "Who is this girl?" "Is it really Seonghwa?" "Is it official?" With each call, your heart ached a little more, the reality of the situation sinking in. You were the reason behind this mess, and with each question, the weight of your actions became increasingly clear. Seonghwa finally emerged from the bathroom, he was fully dressed, his hair neatly combed back, and his face, although still showing signs of distress, was more composed. He settled down next to you, the distance between you heavy with unspoken tension. You could feel his gaze burning into you, his eyes searching for answers in the depths of your own. But as he heard you denying what happened during countless phone calls, a flicker of hurt flashed across his features, overshadowing the mask of composure he had worn moments before. 

"Y/N," he began, his voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and disappointment. "Why are you doing this? We can't keep pretending like nothing happened." His words cut through the silence like a knife, leaving you speechless in their wake. You could feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on you, demanding honesty in the face of your denial. But as you met his eyes, you saw the pain reflected in their depths, and a pang of guilt surged through you. You had hurt him deeply with your words, and now, as you continued to deny the truth, you were only adding to his anguish. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to meet Seonghwa’s gaze any longer. In that moment, you felt more alone than ever, trapped in a web of lies and deceit from which there seemed to be no escape.  

Once the calls ended, with a heavy heart, you began to draft a press release denying the rumors. As you typed, your mind raced with thoughts of how to properly word your denial, how to ensure that it would put an end to the rampant speculation. Seonghwa, who had been observing silently, finally spoke up, his tone filled with discontent. "Why are you denying it?" he asked, his eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and frustration. 

"Seonghwa, we have to," you tried explaining,  

"No, we don't," he retorted, his voice steady and determined. "We don't have to lie. We don't have to hide." 

"Seonghwa, we can't just admit to this. The backlash... it could ruin your career," you argued, your voice tinged with desperation. 

"And what? We lie? We hide?" Seonghwa countered, his voice filled with frustration.  

"We need to think about the consequences. The fans, the company... it's not just us we have to consider." you countered, trying to maintain your composure. 

"I don't care about that," he said, his voice softening. "I care about you. I care about us. I don't want to lie about that." 

"But this isn't just about us. There are other people involved. Our actions have consequences." you responded, your voice breaking slightly. 

"I know that" he said, his tone resolute. "But isn't our relationship worth fighting for?" he asked, his voice filled with concern. As the weight of your situation bore down, you felt the sting of desperation clawing at your heart, driving you to speak words you knew would hurt Seonghwa deeply. 

"What relationship are you even talking about, Seonghwa? We hadn't even had a 'what-are-we' talk, and everything is ruined," you spat out, your voice laced with bitterness and regret. "We kissed less than 24 hours ago, and now we're all over the news." The words spilled out of you like poison, each one laced with the bitter taste of reality. You could see the pain flicker across Seonghwa's face, his eyes clouding with hurt and confusion. But you couldn't stop yourself, couldn't hold back the flood of emotions threatening to consume you. "We need to protect you," you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. "There's no 'us' in this, Seonghwa. It's just you, and your career, and the future you've worked so hard for. I won't let you throw it all away for me." Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you turned away, unable to bear the weight of Seonghwa's gaze any longer. In that moment, you knew that you had hurt him deeply, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret those words. For better or worse, they were the truth, the raw, unfiltered truth that lay at the heart of your impossible situation. 

"You don't get to decide that" Seonghwa replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil beneath his calm exterior. "You don't get to decide what I throw away or keep. It's my life, my career, my future. And you... you're a part of that, whether you like it or not." His words hung heavy in the air, an undeniable truth that weighed down on your heart. "We're in this together, and I'm not letting you walk away just because you're scared. So, let's face this together. Let's fight for 'us', for our future. Because, in my eyes, there's no 'me' without 'us'." You stared at him, your heart pounding. His words echoed in your mind, raw and powerful. The intensity in his gaze was almost too much to bear. Could you really fight for this? For him? Suddenly, the weight of your decision seemed more significant, more daunting. 

"I... I don't know, Seonghwa," you stuttered, your voice barely a whisper. "I don't know if I can do this. If I can put you at risk like that." 

But Seonghwa just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "That's not for you to decide," he countered gently. "I'm ready to face whatever comes our way. And I want you by my side. So, will you fight with me?" 

[cece693]

Hi, it's the anonymous who made the first request posted about Ethan. I'm so glad you did; it was great to read and I hope you don't mind me asking for more. I'm thirsty for this character. Anyway, the request is about Ethan and the male reader in a toxic relationship where the reader is controlling and seemingly abusive, which worries his friends, but in reality this behavior is encouraged by Ethan himself, who simply loves his boyfriend's possessiveness, both of them bringing out the worst in each other. PS: watch the last two Scary Movie films when you can. They're really fun!

My Boy (Ethan Landry x M! Reader)

Thanks for the request :) I will definitely try to watch the new Scream movies when I have a chance. All I know about Ethan (with a Google search and reading his Wiki entry) is that he's a dorky and geeky guy so I used that to base this. Also, I mainly focused on how you're toxic, not including Ethan since I don't know him well. Hope you enjoy it!

Ethan’s friends had been worried for months. They’d noticed the changes—the way Ethan slowly isolated himself, the constant presence of his boyfriend, M/N, who always seemed to hover a bit too closely, and the way Ethan would flash a nervous smile whenever M/N’s arm tightened possessively around his waist. To an outsider, it looked like a classic case of an abusive relationship, the kind where one person held all the power, and the other was too scared to leave. His friends whispered behind his back, exchanged concerned glances when they saw the way Ethan always sought permission with his eyes before speaking or the way M/N’s words always seemed to silence him in public.

But what they didn’t know, what they couldn’t possibly understand, was that this was exactly what Ethan wanted. The boy leaned into it, into the rough words, the tight grip on his arm when M/N pulled him away from anyone who dared get too close. His friends thought those marks on his wrist and neck were signs of something dark, something to be feared. But to Ethan, they were marks of love.

M/N’s fierce jealousy, his need to control every little thing—who Ethan spoke to, where he went, what he wore—was intoxicating. Ethan didn’t want soft love or gentle touches. He wanted to feel owned and consumed. Wanted to feel like he couldn't live without M/N because he was the very air needed to breathe. And M/N gave him that in spades.

The possessiveness wasn’t some accident; it was nurtured between them, a game they played. Ethan loved pushing M/N to his limits, seeing the anger flash in his eyes when someone dared talk to him, only for M/N to later drag him into a heated argument, the tension sizzling between them. Their fights were never just fights; they were foreplay, a dance of anger and passion that neither of them could resist.

Behind closed doors, their dynamic took on a whole different life. Ethan didn’t cower when M/N snapped at him; he smiled, relishing every possessive word. When M/N told him to stop talking to certain people, Ethan’s heart raced, not out of fear but out of exhilaration. He loved how it felt to be controlled, to be told what to do, to be pulled back into M/N’s orbit over and over again.

The world saw a victim in Ethan, but in reality, he was the one fanning the flames, drawing out every possessive instinct in M/N. He loved the danger of it, how far they could push before it burned them both alive. And M/N? He was more than happy to oblige, loving how Ethan craved his jealousy, how he’d provoke M/N just to see that flash of rage, knowing it would end with them entangled in each other, lost in the toxicity of their need.

Ethan’s friends just didn’t get it, and it was exhausting. If only they could mind their own business, Ethan would be a lot happier. As he spotted Tara and Sam heading his way, he groaned internally, already anticipating yet another "concerned" conversation. He briefly considered making a run for it, but they were too quick, closing in and cornering him before he could escape.

“Ethan,” Tara’s voice was firm, low, and filled with that frustratingly familiar sense of urgency. “We need to talk. It's about M/N.”

Ethan immediately tensed, his jaw tightening. Of course, it was about M/N. It was always about M/N. He narrowed his eyes at Tara, shifting his weight like a boxer getting ready for a fight. “There’s nothing to talk about, Tara,” he replied sharply, his voice cold. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam cut in, stepping closer, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. “We’ve been watching this for months, Ethan. He’s controlling you. You don’t hang out with us anymore, you barely text—hell, you hardly even smile these days. It’s like he’s cut you off from everyone who actually cares about you.”

Ethan’s heart raced with growing anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m not cut off from anyone!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, his body rigid with tension. “I’m just busy. You guys wouldn’t understand.”

“Busy?” Tara’s disbelief was evident, her eyes wide as she stepped closer, not letting him wiggle out of the conversation. “Ethan, we’ve seen the way he treats you! You flinch when he’s around. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for him to snap. That’s not normal. That’s not healthy.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shot back, his voice edged with frustration. “You don’t know him. He’s not what you think.”

Sam stepped forward, her tone soft but firm, like she was speaking to a child. “Ethan, listen to me. He’s not good for you. There are other guys—better guys—who’d treat you right. You don’t have to put up with this.”

“I don’t need your help!” Ethan snapped, cutting her off. His voice rose with every word, anger flashing in his eyes. He stepped back, trying to create distance, his frustration boiling over. “You want me to leave him, but I love him. Why can't anyone seem to get that?!”

Tara’s eyes softened as if she could somehow break through his anger. “Ethan, we care about you. We’re only trying to help. I’ve even got someone in mind—he’s sweet, kind, nothing like M/N. You don’t have to settle just because M/N is your first boyfriend. There are people out there who would actually treat you well.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, a flash of offense crossing his face. His lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile as he shook his head in disbelief. “Wow,” he muttered, looking down briefly before fixing Tara with a sharp glare. “I can’t believe you just managed to insult me and overstep every boundary I’ve got in one sentence.”

“That’s not what I—”

“No, I get it,” Ethan cut her off, his voice icy. “You think I’m some pathetic loser who can’t handle his own relationship, that I’m just clinging to M/N because I’m desperate. But you’re wrong. You don’t understand us at all. He’s not controlling me—I want this. I want him. You think he’s bad for me? You don’t know him like I do.”

“Ethan, you’re not seeing clearly,” Sam tried to interject, her voice pleading now. “He’s manipulating you, making you think this is love—.”

“Stop!” Ethan screamed, his fists trembling as he glared at them both. “You have no right to interfere in my life like this. M/N isn’t the problem, you are. You can’t stand that I’m not the same person I was before, that I’m happy in a way you’ll never understand. I don’t need saving—I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Tara’s face fell, her shoulders sagging as the hope of reaching him began to fade. “Ethan…”

“No,” Ethan growled. “I don’t want to hear it. Not again. Stay out of my relationship. If you can’t respect that, maybe we’re not meant to be friends.”

Without another word, Ethan turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Tara and Sam standing in stunned silence, their concern now tinged with a deep, helpless sadness. To them, Ethan’s anger and defensiveness were just more proof of how deeply M/N had his claws in him, manipulating him into believing that this toxic love was all he deserved. But to Ethan, it wasn’t manipulation at all. It was passion, fierce and raw, the kind of love that consumed you whole—and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He swore he'll fucking kill anyone who tried to step in between you and him.

[jeonscatalyst]

https://www.tumblr.com/jeonscatalyst/761524059035041792/so-something-i-have-been-thinking-since-the?source=share

Thank you for bringing the part that most people don't want to talk about or are dismissive and it's a different pov than many people so it's nice to read. Now my question is IF they have to be a little bit extra careful because they have something to "hide" why is jimin the clingiest to jungkook? As in you know sometimes how jk gets nervous around jm or when jm is coming towards him or touching him this that and you see jk maybe kinda lean from one leg to other or take a step back so it might come off as him backing off in negative way so my question is if you know this is something ur partner gets nervous about why would you do it again and Again? Like we all know jk is clingiest to hobi and jin but jimin despite being the most physically affectionate person he seems clingiest to jungkook so why is that? Don't get me wrong but i haven't seen much of jm getting nervous or backing off when jk is coming closer like the way jk might do so is jk the only one who's feeling this need of "hiding" ? What about jm? Yes he's clingy to hobi and he used to tae as well but he's always been clingiest to jungkook so why is that?

I think the simple answer here is that Jimin and Jungkook are different people with different personalities and handle things differently. While Jungkook very easily gets flustered by Jimin’s actions, Jimin on the other hand doesn’t but we have seen Jimin get flustered because of Jungkook but it he doesn’t behave the same way Jungkook does when he is flustered or panicked. They both normally have to be careful because they have something to hide but that doesn’t mean there aren’t moments where they forget or slip up and habit can be difficult to control (and that’s where they slip up and we catch them) plus, I believe they also get away with so many things because people reduce most of their actions to fanservice and they know this. Clinginess also isn’t inherently romantic and as you said, Jimin isn’t only clingy with Jungkook so maybe sometimes he is just being his normal clingy self and not necessarily having second thoughts.

I guess I should have explained more in my previous post that we see the panic more in Jungkook than we do in Jimin and this to me is just because they are different and handle things differently. I also think that Jimin and Jungkook find some sort of pleasure in teasing each other or pushing each other’s buttons to get a certain reaction. I remember that one moment from 2019 where Jimin and Jungkook were at a photoshoot and Jimin started leaning into Jungkook and you could see Jk becoming increasingly uneasy, then Jimin noticed, laughed and said he likes to do it because Jk doesn’t like it. Now, we know that it isn’t really in Jimin’s nature to push when he knows that the other person doesn’t feel comfortable because Jk himself literally said that Jimin is very good at leaving one alone after you tell him once so it is clear to me that sometimes Jimin only does it to tease because he knows how Jk would react and then some other times he probably is just being his bold and shameless self but Jk feels nervous anyway.

While many people throughout the years have claimed that Jimin makes Jk uncomfortable or Jk hates Jimin’s touches and all that, it’s always been clear to me that Jk doesn’t because when you actually listen to the things he says, you understand that he actually likes that side of Jimin .Do we remember what Jk said when he was asked to say what he liked most about Jimin? Jk could have literally said anything else but he said he likes the fact that Jimin is shameless/bold.

This is yet one of those moments that easily flies over everyone’s head but there is alot of weight in Jungkook’s statement here. He never hated how bold/shameless Jimin was, he liked it actually but he just couldn’t handle it in public settings sometimes and Jimin probably knew it which is why he kept doing it and we know that Jk never felt like his personal space was invaded by Jimin because if he did, he never would have said what he said about Jimin during festa 2016 and he never would have spoken about how considerate and thoughtful Jimin is. If someone constantly invades your personal space, disregarding your feelings and making you uncomfortable, the last thing you would think of them is that they are considerate/ thoughtful

So anon, to answer your question, Jimin is clingy with Jungkook because he likes being clingy with him and because he knows that Jk really doesn’t hate it. He is clingy with Jungkook even though Jk usually seems flustered because he (Jimin) probably likes the reaction he gets out of Jk and it is fun for him as they both enjoy teasing and flustering the hell out of each other. He might also be clingy with Jungkook out of habit and sometimes can’t help it, so even though at the back of his mind he knows they have to be cautious, he probably doesn’t see some of the things he does as “telling” but he can’t help it if Jungkook gets nervous anyway. If Jimin thought that Jk really hated it, he wouldn’t have done it and we know this for a fact because Jk said this…..so we understand that Jimin actually knows how to respect Jungkook’s boundaries

So anon, my advice to you and to other people will be to let the boys do them and always try to think of context when reading into their interactions. The people who continue to talk about Jimin making Jk uncomfortable or talking about Jk not liking Jimin’s touches and stuff only do that because they are taking things at face value or sometimes are just projecting even though Jk’s words throughout the years and even his actions from behind the cameras that we have heard or mistakenly seen proves that Jk is more than ok wit Jimin’s affection and touchiness, infact he seeks it out. He wouldn’t be spending all time going to knock on Jimin’s door at 1am knowing that Jimin would probably start clinging to him if he didn’t like it, he goes there because he doesn’t mind and because he knows that Jimin understands boundaries. He likes Jimin’s clingyness, likes his touches and his shamelessness but just doesn’t know how to deal with it in public or infront of the cameras because he probably feels nervous about giving too much away. Jimin has his moments when we can see him feeling nervous with Jungkook coming too close but it’s not as conspicuous as Jungkook’s and also maybe because Jungkook doesn’t try to fluster Jimin as much as Jimin does but we know that when JK starts being shameless, Jimin can’t handle him either.

[intheemptymirror]

bad habit !

idol!sumin x fem!reader

summary: sumin has a bad biting habit— and you are not exempt from it.

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

warnings: biting (duh), a bit suggestive in the last scenario but it’s fluffy otherwise, sumin and reader are said to be the same age (20), in the first two scenarios sumin and reader aren’t dating yet (just crushes) but in the last two they are (//∇//)

a/n: my first xikers post! and also like my first full fic ever (⌒▽⌒) there’s a serious lack of xikers content on this site, i’ve already read through all of it 💀 but i hope this small fic is enough to make other roady’s on here happy too. i have a jinsik drabble im working on too so pls look forward to that (*´∇｀*) lowkey the second scenario gave me crazy butterflies like it made me giddy af (before the ending anyways) and i was the one that wrote it 😭 but i feel like my writing is super obviously amateur, which makes me a bit embarrassed but hopefully this is an enjoyable read anyways 。・°°・(＞_＜)・°°・。

sumin loved to use his teeth.

you found this out when you were both six and in elementary school and he bit you because you took the toy he was wanting to play with for recess. it went about as well as you’d imagine. you started crying before swinging the toy down and hitting sumin on the back with it, causing him to burst out into tears as well. in the end, both of your parents were called and you got the scolding of a life time from your mother when you got home.

sumin brought a sweet flavored candy the next day along with a slightly less sweet apology. he didn’t make eye contact with you and he mumbled out a simple “sorry” and nothing else before shoving the candy your way, but you accepted the both of them nonetheless. you gave him a toothy smile (which in sumin’s opinion was the sweetest thing he had with him that day, though he’d never admit it) before taking his hand in yours and dragging him out to play. despite the severely rocky start to your friendship, the both of you had been inseparable ever since.

maybe it was this first experience with each other that let you stay so close with each other even fourteen years later, because from the very beginning you knew what he was— a biter.

— !

the xiker’s boys had invited you over to one of their dorms for their monthly hangout night— ideally it would be a weekly thing, but their schedules never allowed for rest days that consistently. being sumin’s best friend since before he even knew about the existence of xikers, you had gotten pretty close with the rest of them. of course, sumin has and always will be your favorite— much to the disdain of the others.

you stood behind the couch with a smile on your face while seeun, minjae, and yechan occupied the cushions. all of your gazes were completely locked onto the tv, where a very intense and serious game of mario kart was occurring. “seeun, stop cheating!” minjae yelled out when said boy started to move into minjae’s space in an attempt to distract him, his body being bumped into yechan who was on his right. this only made yechan start to push back against minjae, eventually leading to the three boys getting into each others personal space in an attempt to completely sabotage their gameplay.

their shenanigans caused small giggles to leave your lips, completely unaware of the set of eyes that were locked onto you instead of the game. sumin stood off to the side by the dining table, leaning against the wall with a fond look on his face. when sumin had first thought of introducing you to his members, he was truthfully a little nervous. “what if they don’t like each other?” “what if they get into a fist fight?” “what if someone dies and the night is plagued with that experience forever and as a result they can never get along?” sumin knows now that all of those thoughts were absolutely ridiculous (some more so than others), but he truly just wanted all of his favorite people to like each other as much as he did.

“careful, if you stare any harder they might burst into flames.” the flat voice that seemingly appeared out of nowhere made sumin jump before he looked to his left where junghoon was eyeing him with his arms crossed and a knowing look on his face. sumin’s surprise relaxed before he tensed up again at junghoon’s implications. he forced out an awkward laugh and shook his head. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

junghoon didn’t say anything, but with a gaze like his, he didn’t really need to. his expression seemingly stayed the same, but sumin didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows subtly raised. sumin swallowed harshly and seemed to sink into himself as he looked away from junghoon in an unsuccessful attempt to escape his judgment. he looked back over to him before he let out a sigh of acceptance, reluctantly nodding gently. “yeah i know…” sumin mumbled before the sound of your laughter ringing through the air made him bring his attention back to you.

he smiled at how the sight of your smile filled his chest with warmth before he mindlessly started walking over to you, as if following you was simply second nature to him (and he really would follow you anywhere). he comes up behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist, the sudden intrusion causing you to jump before you realize who it is and immediately relax. sumin rests his cheek on your shoulder and smiles up at you as you melt into his warmth. “hi.”

you raise your brow at him as the corner of your mouth starts to twitch up into a ghost of a smile. “hi.” you say back, making sumin’s grin grow before he nudges his face into the crook of your neck. you huff out a laugh and bring your hand up to tangle into his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp with your nails. the gentle feeling of your hand in his hair made his body involuntarily relax as he sighed out against your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver up your spine. you turn your attention back to the tv in front of you, but you’re more focused on the way sumin’s warm hands feel pressed against your stomach, his thumb soothingly rubbing back and forth.

“sumin! come help us cut vegetables.” hunter’s voice called out for him from the kitchen, causing you to jump slightly at the sudden sound and causing sumin’s shoulders to slump and let out a loud groan in protest. “less whining, more helping!” sumin sighed before he smiled in defeat, his teeth brushing against your neck as if forewarning what was to come. he quickly tightened his arms around your waist and bit into your shoulder before unwrapping himself from you and running off to where hunter needed him. “hey!” your hand comes up to touch the spot on your shoulder where his teeth had been, a disbelieving smile on your lips. sumin turns, scrunches his nose and sticks his tongue out at you, before turning the corner and disappearing off into the kitchen.

— !

it was one of the very rare times sumin had been granted a break by KQ, and a week long one at that. the company decided that they deserved it after their hard work promoting their recent comeback, but if they asked you, you would’ve said they deserved it always. while some of the boys decided to stay at the dorms, others had ventured their way back home to visit family, sumin being one of them. despite still going to visit him at the dorms often, it never felt like it was enough, so you were over the moon to have him back for a whole week.

the first day or two you had left him alone to spend some much needed time with his parents and brother, but after that he had crawled his way back to you, claiming that it had been too long since he last saw you (two days) and pestering you non-stop to spend the night. ‘just like humans need water to survive, sumins need y/ns to survive,’ is what he had said, which only earned him an eyeroll and light smack to the head.

and so, you both laid side by side in the dark of his room, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window. you laid on your side with your hands rested in the empty space between you two, close enough to feel the heat radiating from each other but not so close that you were actually touching.

you let out a soft giggle, trying your absolute hardest to stay quiet so as not to disturb his family from their sleep. “okay, okay. if you had to be stranded in the middle of space with any of your members, who would you pick?”

“i’d take my helmet off.” you let out a huff of air and smacked him on the arm, making sumin giggle out and put his hands up in surrender.

“okay, okay! i’m kidding! hm… jinsik.” sumin says with a decisive nod of his head. you smile and raise your eyebrows.

“really?” sumin lets out a small ‘mhm’ and nods making you hum in thought and nod slowly. a cheshire like smile grows on your face as an idea starts to form in your head. “that’s not that surprising i guess. if it was between being stuck in the middle of space with me or being stuck in the middle of space with jinsik, who would you choose?”

“you.”

he said the word with so much conviction, as if it was a message written by the hand of god himself and delivered to you through the mouth of sumin. the sturdiness of his word caught you off guard, your smile falling as everything grows quiet between the two of you. the rest of the world seems to fall away as you stare at him and he stares at you. you watch his eyes drift across your face: your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, your lips. you let your own eyes wander down to his lips, swallowing harshly when his gaze snaps back up to your eyes and catches you.

his hand shifts in the bed slightly, as if he was scared that any sudden movements would scare you off entirely; would scare you off eternally. when you don’t do so much as even flinch, he takes a deep, shaky breath as if to steel himself before he stretches out his pinky to gently touch the soft side of your hand. you look down at your hands before looking back into sumin’s eyes, your own pinky moving to gently rest itself over his. you sit like that for a moment, interlocking your pinkies before he gently takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together. you let the perfect feeling of his hand pressed against yours sink into your bones, seeping through the marrow to rest gently in the deepest part of your soul, where you decided it would stay protected for the rest of your life.

your heart stutters as he shuffles just that much closer, his eyes drifting back down to your lips. you subconsciously hold your breath in anticipation, the tension between you two looming over like a thick blanket. he blinks a few times, as if shaking a thought out of his head before he drags your connected hands up to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the plush skin on the side of your hand. you let out a gasp and squeal as you try to pry your hand from his assault, your joint laughters replacing the odd feeling that had overtaken the room previously. the tension disappeared, never to be mentioned again that night.

— !

you swung your arms back and forth as a gentle summer breeze blew through your hair, your sandals being held in one hand by the straps. you stared at the sandy ground, watching as the warm water of the ocean reached the tips of your toes only to slink back again as you waited for sumin to show up. you guys had been dating for about a month at this point and had hung out multiple times throughout, but this was your first official date. you had once mentioned to him offhandedly that you would’ve liked to go to the beach with a boyfriend, something you thought he would’ve long forgotten, but he surprised you when he asked if you were free that weekend, telling you he was taking you out on that date.

he had a short practice that morning so he told you to go on ahead and that he’d meet you there straight after. you were strung a bit tight from nerves, so you had gotten there about 15 minutes prior to the meet up time, so you knew you would be waiting a bit, but you still couldn’t help but feel nervous that maybe sumin was going to stand you up. you knew sumin, maybe even more than you knew yourself, so you know deep down he’d never do something like that, but your brain had a funny way of hating you, filling your head with negative thoughts. you gently walked back and forth a few paces along the shore line: what if he never shows up? what if after this date he decides he doesn’t really like me that way? what if he dies trying to meet me here?

“y/n!”

you hear a loud voice call for you from behind, turning to look over your shoulder at the source. and there he was: standing a few feet away at the top of the concrete steps leading to the beach, out of breath and a little sweaty, with a smile you thought burned you brighter than the hot summer sun ever could. sumin— your sumin.

you smile back and raise your hand to wave at him. he bolts towards you, skipping the last few steps of the stairs and stumbling from the unstable grounding of the sand before barreling towards you without any signs of slowing down. you giggle and brace yourself for impact before he reaches you, his arms coming out to wrap around your waist and lifting you up. he stumbles forward into the water, splashing some of it up onto you both, but neither of you can really bring yourselves to care all that much.

he shakes you around a bit before he sets you down, staring at you with a love sick smile as you giggle and fix your now messed up hair. “sorry i’m late.”

you shake your head at him. “you’re not late, i was just early.”

he pouts and affectionately squeezes your cheek between his pointer and thumb. “if i ever make you wait then that means i was late.” you scoff and roll your eyes at him but the sparkle in your eye never leaves. “now c’mon. we have a date to attend to.” he leans his face down close to yours, and you close your eyes and scrunch up your nose in surprise before his hot breath hits your cheek and his teeth sink into the warm skin on your face.

you blink in surprise at him as he pulls away with a teasing grin before it registers in your head what he had just done, your brows furrowing and your plump lips morphing into a pout. you had taken a deep breath in preparation to complain but before any words could be let out, he leaned down one more time to press a quick kiss to your cheek, clasping your hand in his and turning to walk towards one of the little food stands someone had set up along the coast. he stuck his tongue out at you through his teeth as if to say ‘gotcha’, but you couldn’t stop your own happy smile from forming on your face, your cheeks warming up from something other than the sun this time.

the feeling of his hand in yours feels different now than it did when you first took his hand on that playground all those years ago, but just like back then, it still feels like you’re holding something precious.

— !

sumin was currently at practice with the rest of his team members, but you missed him, so you were in his bed doom-scrolling on your phone while you waited for him to finish up with practice so you could surprise him. you check how much longer until sumin said he should be back: 30 minutes. you heave a loud sigh into the otherwise quiet room and drop your phone on the bed before closing your eyes and burying your face in his pillow, letting the scent of sumin’s cologne engulf you.

you’re not sure how long you lay like that, but pretty soon the sound of the door swinging open makes you lift your head from the fabric, looking over to the culprit. in the door frame stands an exhausted sumin, his movements sluggish and heavy. he looks up to find you tucked into his bed, his eyes lighting up when he catches sight of you, the view immediately filling him with new energy.

“baby!” he exclaims, dropping his bag on the floor unceremoniously before launching himself into your arms. you laugh at how he went from zero to one hundred in seemingly a split second as he wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your neck. your arms come up to rest around his shoulders as your hand tangles into his soft hair. “missed you.” he mumbles out into your skin before pressing a kiss onto your neck, then your jaw, then your cheek, before your entire face has been touched by his lips. you giggle at the vibration of his words against your neck before the source of your laughs turn into the feeling of his lips on you, your hand on his back soothingly rubbing back and forth on his shoulder blades.

he pulls back to look into your eyes with a lovesick smile on his face, but you’re sure you look the same as you gaze into his eyes as well. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth on your cheek. “tough practice?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“you have no idea.” sumin replies, the tension in his shoulders relaxing as he huffs out a laugh before he takes your hand in his and brings it up to his mouth. already sensing what was happening, you rip your hand out of his grip with a knowing smile. the action only makes sumin laugh before he leans in to gently bite your jaw. you let out a small noise of protest and gently push and smack at his shoulders, but there’s not any force behind it. you break out into giggles as he bites your jaw again before moving down to hook his teeth into your shoulder.

it sends a shudder up your spine as a breathy, nearly inaudible sigh leaves your lips, the action not going unnoticed by sumin. you feel him grin against your skin before pressing a soft kiss to it, the air in the room suddenly growing thick with tension. “what’s wrong baby?” he teases, his hands sliding down your body before his fingers stop to press into the softness of your waist. he sinks his teeth into your shoulder again, keeping his mouth there for longer this time as he sucks a dark spot into the skin. he licks the bruise lightly to soothe it before moving across to your collarbone to bite into that too.

you let him move his teeth across your skin, dark purple and red spots blooming all across your neck, shoulders, and chest. you can hear and feel him groan into your skin at the taste of your skin on his tongue, your chest heaving with every heavy breath you take. you arch your chest into him as you tilt your head back at the attention he’s giving you before you start to gain some clarity and push against his chest to get him to stop.

“w-wait, what about yechan? he could walk in here at any minute.” he pulls back far enough to look at your face, but close enough to keep you in his arms. you looked like a mess: your hair was disheveled, you were still panting from his ministrations, and you were littered with marks and a thin sheen of spit from sumin’s tongue practically everywhere, but sumin still thought you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. despite your distress, sumin seems unbothered at the mention of his roommate, a smirk making its way onto his face, as if he knew something that you didn’t.

“he decided to stay behind to practice a bit more.” he leans into your face, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “so we have more than enough time.” he whispers lowly before kissing your lips softly. “to do whatever,” kiss. “we,” kiss. “want,” he takes your lips in his as you let out a weak whine into his mouth before melting into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

maybe this habit of his wasn’t so bad after all.

[abyssalzones]

hey anon! I debated most of this morning what the best way to respond to your ask would be because I'm not going to lie to you it almost made me cry. hopefully a drawing is okay. I wasn't sure whether it was my place to share what you've sent but I did want to answer you properly, and it ended up getting kind of long... so I'll put that under the cut here (sa mention)

First of all you definitely have nothing to apologize for, a major element of my analysis (and what had made me so nervous to post it to begin with) was that it came from a very personal place, and I knew if I posted it I was going to be opening up a lot of doors. good or bad I honestly had no idea but I really hadn't anticipated such an overwhelmingly positive response, and I especially hadn't imagined so many people to share their own experiences with abuse and how what I wrote meant something in relation to that. it makes me extremely glad I bit the bullet and allowed myself to be a little vulnerable about something I enjoy.

there's something almost uniquely weird about being a victim and seeing yourself in a story but not knowing how to express that. it feels like one of those things you can't really say without crossing an extreme line, and any parallels you might be able to draw are therefore Reaching, biased by your own experiences. I've struggled with this a lot as someone who uses art not only as an outlet but a voice for my experiences- and what experiences I think deserve to not only be treated with respect but honesty. there's a lot to be said about the alienation of the victim from the rest of society when sexual assault is so overwhelmingly common in our world, and how difficult it can be to find truthful and respectful depictions of these experiences in... anything, pretty much.

I have no idea if that's what they were trying to do specifically, from a textual angle. but I do think it's possible, and am confident that they at least drew on the subject (both in the instance of Bill coercing Ford to drink and the scene later where Ford is paralyzed), which was honestly what led me to write the analysis in the first place. That "he's kinda like me" moment you describe is something I'd had for a long time but had never been able to say confidently without feeling like I was reading between the lines. But I think you're right. and I think there is a real reason why such a story could speak to people in that way, could be so important for the process of recovery... we can't always conceptualize what happens to us from our own perspective, y'know? we're trapped in our own minds for the most part. so I think fiction works excellently as a way to work through these things and see our worst struggles in someone else- and to come to vitally important realizations of our own.

anyway, all that to say I'm so glad what I wrote helped you come to that realization. hearing that makes me feel like I've done something not only to help myself find some closure, but for others to as well :] healing is always, always possible and I sincerely hope you find your happiness as Ford has, and as I've found mine.

[copperbadge]

More on mindfulness and meditation

I feel like perhaps I came across as anti-meditation in that last post I did on it, and there were some folks who were a bit vocal about not liking meditation in the notes, but the notes also had some great and interesting discussion of what can count as mindfulness that isn't traditional meditation and what some alternatives might be, so I wanted to do a follow-up. Especially since I don't think I'm going to get to respond to everyone individually.

The post was not meant to be anti-meditation, but to express frustration with the way meditation frequently is, or rather fails to be, taught. I can understand why people would struggle with "mindfulness" (vastly overused term) and meditation, so I'm not here to argue with or shame anyone, and I really appreciate the alternative suggestions. But because mindfulness can mean so many things, and people can meditate for many different reasons, I wanted to talk a little about why I'm being asked to do it.

It's easy to lose track of why one might try meditation for mental health, because the cause and effect are so temporally dislocated from each other. I try to keep in mind that my specific goal is emotional regulation deriving from increased present-moment attention. Some of the stuff that was suggested is great for a goal other than this, like puzzle games that allow people to empty their racing minds or activity that brings someone back into their body when dissociating -- both extremely laudable functions! -- but that's not why I'm here. Meditation is meant, for me, to be a maintenance medication, not a rescue inhaler.

There is science that suggest that mindfulness practice, under a specific definition of the term, can help to manage emotional dysregulation, ameliorate Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, and reduce depression and anxiety. I discuss the science in a slideshow here but essentially this specific form trains the attention into the present moment, which improves executive function -- and as we know, emotional regulation is a facet of executive function, so this leads to better emotional regulation.

There is not a lot of science on it yet so there is room here for yoursamplesizeissmall.jpg, but it's all we've got so I'm running with it. There is one foundational practice and three practices that build on it which effected this change in subjects of the study:

Breathing Meditation doesn't really confer any benefit the others don't, but the others all employ it as a basic practice. We know this can calm the parasympathetic nervous system, although to be honest I have not found that to be the case personally. As soon as I stop the deep breathing I'm right back where I was, likely because my issue is ruminational, not situational. But everything else wants you to breathe first, so I still have to do it.

Body Scan focuses attention on the body and as others have pointed out is good for people prone to dissociation. As I said in the other post, I live here; paying extra attention to my body isn't something I need. I was asked to try it anyway as part of a practice in keeping an open mind about stuff I think is dumb, and clearly I do need practice in that. Still, it's likely I'll be able to let this one go pretty soon.

Loving-Kindness asks you to think positively about others, expanding compassion from a single point outward to the world. I've encountered this before in reading Pema Chodron; I don't do it as meditation, but I do try to practice it in life because I am not naturally a patient or compassionate person, and that has been helpful in the sense that it keeps me from getting punched in the face a bunch. For me there's no real "train the attention to be in the present" aspect on account of that, however.

Observing-Thought is where you just sit with your thoughts, let them arise, sometimes label them in some way, and let them go. I was most interested in this purely because it's the only one I hadn't already encountered. I haven't found it useful so far, but I don't have enough data about it to be definitive, and if it is training executive function I would expect that to take time.

Now, I know that all four of these have science backing them, so I know that we're not just dealing in new-age woo here. The problem is functional, not theoretical. The issue overall is not "meditation is boring" -> "find a way to make it interesting", although I do appreciate that it may be an issue for others and I like that people were offering solutions. The issue for me is that the boredom derives from the fact that the meditation isn't being taught. There's no progressional learning -- there's no step-progress-reward-step-progress-reward like with most difficult skills.

Any task is boring if you aren't deriving any reward from it or you are being expected to execute it without skills or training, and in this case I'm facing down both. Long silences from a meditation leader are fine if you're there to engage with a practice you already have familiarity with, but if you're trying to learn, they are the opposite of helpful, and they are actively punishing to someone with ADHD.

I don't want to be entertained (I mean, generally I do, but in this case I don't expect it). What I want is a pedagogical approach that steps up to the practice rather than beginning with it, so that I know I'm doing it right, I experience rewards along the way similar to how I currently do learning Italian, and I have more confidence that what seems dull and fruitless actually will produce results.

Uh, so yeah thanks for coming to my TEDtalk; the fact that a practice that's especially hard for people with ADHD helps with almost every problem ADHD presents really sucks, and I wish we approached teaching meditation as if it were something you actually did have to learn rather than something you're supposed to Do Until You Get It. In the meantime I guess bumping the speed on the recording isn't the worst thing I could be doing.

[blushy-tigerrr]

story time with tiger!

so, as you know from my post earlier, i was blessed to be able to spend the past six days with @applesyaboi :3 it has truly been the time of my life getting to hang out with this lovely human for so long, and as i’m writing this post while waiting in the airport to fly back home, i already miss him so much.

the whole story is under the cut if you’re interested in reading, but before we get into that, we did make content :3 but i will be waiting to share them as a celebration for reaching 400 followers as i am only 10 away from that amazing milestone!

anyway, here’s the story <3

let’s start at the beginning: may 30th. apples and i had been chatting and becoming very close friends for about a month when we really started talking about the idea of us meeting up and spending some time together. we had talked about it in a hypothetical sense a bunch, but this was when the actual planning happened. we both determined that august would be the best month, and we then decided on august 8th-13th! it worked out really nicely with my job and him moving into his own apartment a little bit before then. shortly after that, i bought my ticket on june 8th.

and then the waiting began.

let me tell you, that was the roughest part, second only to having to leave today. i went through some really tough stuff during that waiting period, and apples was constantly there as a support system for me through anything and everything. that made me all the more excited to get to see him and thank him in person for how much he had done for me.

after a very long 60 days of waiting, the day finally came. i got to the airport ridiculously early in the morning and boarded my plane with little issue. luckily for me, apples was awake when i was on the plane waiting to take off, so we got to chat for a little the morning of! and it was mostly just “AHHH OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING!!!” messages hehe

once my plane landed, i got my bag and waited at the exit for him to pick me up. once i saw his car pull up, my heart dropped in the best way. when i saw his face through the car window, my heart started pounding and i almost was scared to move, but this silly goose made a little beckoning motion to me and i broke out of that easily. when we hugged for the first time, i felt all of my stress melt out of my body completely. he gives some of the best hugs ever <3 and that was just the first of many

we were both a little nervous still on our drive to his place, but the nerves dissipated pretty quickly. we got to his apartment, i got to meet his cat, and then we laid down to snuggle for a bit. we were snuggled with the intent on taking a nap, but i’m sure no one is surprised to know that’s not what happened right away. he had his hand on my side and asked if i minded if he tickled me a little bit, and i told him i didn’t mind of course. he was so sweet and gentle and showered me with compliments the entire time. he’s very good at making me feel beautiful and loved and also very good at tickling oh my god he’s so teasy and constantly got me so flustered

then, because i’m a switchy little shit, i asked him the same question. he said it was okay, and guys. for as teasy of a ler as apples is, he is also soooo ticklish!! he’s super squirmy and flinchy, and his giggles are some of the cutest that i’ve ever heard <3 he told me a while ago he had never been tickled before, so i did my best to be very gentle and careful with not pushing it too far by checking in and making sure he was still having fun and was okay. he did the very same thing for me, and i greatly appreciated it.

we also tried out a few tools while i was there! none of them worked on him (scam) except for the pursonic, but that only worked in one spot for him. for me, though? that thing is the devil. it tickles so badly in just about every spot you can think of. i think apples is just broken lol <3 we also tried feathers and makeup brushes which were suuuuper effective on spots like my ears and neck and behind the knee (mean), but all of that was incredibly fun!

of course, that’s not all we did in those six days although it was majority. we also went out for food a few times, went to a sports game, and went on multiple walks around the area. however, i think the only thing we may have done more than tickle each other was snuggle together. and that? was so nice. like i said before, he made me feel so comfortable so quickly, and because of that, we were able to be so snuggly the entire time which i know we were both very grateful for.

as i’m sitting at my gate writing this all out, it’s really sinking in how much fun this all was for me and how lovely it was to have a break from regular life for a while. it was definitely very needed for both of us. apples, thank you so so much for having me these past six days. you’ve truly made me happier and more relaxed than i’ve been in an incredibly long time. it’s been so lovely to get to laugh with you and snuggle with you and just be around you for this time. thank you for being so sweet and loving and kind and understanding, and thank you for being one of the best friends that i have ever had in my entire life. i love you so so much /p <3

[alwaysonthemend]

Author’s Note: Coming to ya’ll once again with yet another Jake fic that’s just self-indulgent smut. Inspired by the lovely (read: horny) conversations that I had with my Jake lane besties yesterday. Blame them, not me. This fic is also inspired by the Gibson TV interview that Jake did a while ago because of this post from @indigofallingsky

If you haven't seen the interview, you can watch it here.

Content Warnings: Fem!reader, swearing, jake being a huge flirt, oral (f receiving), fingering, spanking, choking, p in v sex, unprotected sex (ik it's bad I just have a problem), squirting, softdom jakey, semi public sex, sir kink, lil bit of spit play maybe? and a shit ton of dirty talk. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 5293

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You’re nervous, to say the least. And more than that, you’re frustrated because you’re so nervous. Being a photographer, it’s literally your job to be around famous people – and you pride yourself on never getting starstruck or anxious. You’d discovered quickly that most of the celebrities you interacted with were assholes anyway, and the few that weren’t assholes had either been boring or just plain weird. You’d stopped giving a damn years ago. 

But now, as you stood there waiting to introduce yourself to the man you would be photographing, you couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach as you watched him. You’d heard of him and his band before. You loved their music and you’d even been thinking of buying tickets to one of their upcoming shows if you could manage to get the time off from work. You knew what he looked like, but nothing could have prepared you for actually seeing him in person. He was gorgeous – sinfully so. You couldn’t help but stare as he walked around the room, introducing himself to everyone that he would be working with for his interview. 

The first thing you noticed was his hair; it was messy but beautiful, like someone had run their fingers through it haphazardly before he showed up. It was a gorgeous brown – almost copper when the light reflected on it. It looked especially gorgeous in contrast against his navy blue suit. And Jesus, did that suit fit him so well. He wasn’t a very tall man, but his entire body looked strong – solid. His thighs filled out those suit pants in a way that should be illegal. And his face… you could stare at it for hours. Plush lips, a perfect set of white teeth, and brown eyes that reminded you of bourbon. And of course he would be a fucking guitarist. 

When he finally made it to you, you had to fight to keep your voice steady and your eyes on his. 

“I’m Jake.” He said, giving you a dazzling smile as he extended his hand towards yours to shake. You took it, praying that he didn’t feel the slight tremor in them. 

“I’m Y/n. I’m going to be your photographer today.”

“Hi, Y/n. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The sound of your name from his mouth made your knees weak and you mentally rolled your eyes at yourself. “ Do you work for Gibson?”

You nodded. 

“Yep! Have for a few years now. All I’m going to be doing today is taking a few candid shots of you while you play and then we’ll do some actual posed shots afterwards” You gave him your best attempt at a professional smile. 

“Well, I’m lucky to have such a gorgeous woman taking my picture.” 

Your jaw dropped as he walked away from you, calm and collected after saying such a thing to you. Your eyes followed his retreating form as he went to take a seat on the little stool in front of the camera. He turned over his shoulder and locked eyes with you. He winked and you could feel the blush as it overtook your face. You dropped his gaze quickly. 

You took a seat on another stool by the wall. You wanted to listen to him before you took him over to take pictures. 

“Whenever you're ready, Mr. Kiszka. I’ll be asking you questions, but we’ll cut me from the final so it will be just you speaking.” The director, David, explained to him. “Let’s start with your full name.”

“Full name?” Jake asked him, a half smile painting his pretty lips. “How long do you want me to-” he chuckled. “Jacob Thomas Kiszka, sir.” 

His eyes locked on yours as he said the word, and your lips parted yet again as he pinned you with his gaze. 

“I don’t know.” He laughed, eyes snapping back to the camera. You glanced around to see that no one else seemed to have noticed him looking at you. You let out a shaky breath, your nerves completely unraveling the longer you were in his presence. Get a grip, y/n. 

“And tell us what you play.” David asked, and you watched on the little monitor as the second camera angle zoomed out for a wider shot. 

“I play guitar for the band Greta Van Fleet.” He answered, and you marveled at the smooth sound of his voice. David continued to ask him questions and you couldn’t help but be impressed – Jake was clearly a master of his craft, and yet he didn’t come across as egotistical or too self-assured. His talent spoke for itself and your heart raced at the quiet confidence that the man exuded. He was a gorgeous balance of confidence and professionalism. 

Every so often though, Jake’s eyes would sweep to find you. They’d linger on you for only a moment, before finding the camera again. Each glance was so fleeting you almost felt like you were imagining it – wishful thinking, and all that. But it kept happening; enough for you to believe that it had to be on purpose. You bit your lip, trying your best to remain focused on the job at hand and to stop the blush that seemed to have taken up permanent residence on your face.

Once David had asked all of his questions, he asked Jake to actually play his beautiful red Les Paul. Jake rose from his seat and strode quickly towards where his amps had been set up. He breezed by you, giving you another pointed stare from the corner of his eye. This time, you stared back – meeting the challenge in his eyes. He smirked. 

You watched him as he plugged in his guitar and strummed the strings once, checking their sound. He turned a few knobs on his instrument before strumming the strings again, this time seemingly satisfied. 

“Anything in particular you want me to play?” He asked, directing his gaze towards David. 

“Nope. Just whatever you would like to, really.”

Jake nodded once before beginning to play. The sound he coaxed from the instrument was beautiful, each note crisp and clean and oozing with sex appeal. His quiet demeanor melted away to reveal a man who was a master at what he was doing. You stared as his fingers danced across the strings and frets, effortlessly quick as he played. His face was focused, lost in his own world. 

Your cheeks blazed as you felt wetness seep into your panties as you watched him. Your breathing picked up and you felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you watched toss his head back and close his eyes. You could only stare as he rocked his hips into his guitar in time to the beat of the song he was playing. You’d never been this affected by anyone in your entire life. 

Your core ached and you clenched your thighs together. Jake’s gaze shifted to meet yours at the movement, and his eyes practically sparkled as his eyes drank in your form. There was no hiding your arousal from him. You trained your eyes on your shoes, unwilling to meet his eyes. He tore his stare away from you and retreated back into guitar world. All you could do was sit there in agony as your lust for him grew by the second. 

Finally, he finished and David walked over to him and clapped him on the back. 

“That was great, Mr. Kiskza. Excellent.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jake smiled, unplugging his guitar from the amp. 

“I’ll be turning you over to our photographer now, Mr. Kiszka. She’ll take good care of you.” 

You wanted to shrivel up and die as David said the words but you just plastered your work smile onto your face and rose from your seat. 

“Right this way, Mr. Kiszka.” 

You led him into the little photo room off to the side of the main studio. It was a small space – adorned only with a backdrop on one side of the room and your equipment on the other side. One singular wooden stool had been placed in front of the backdrop. You walked over to the lights and switched them on. 

“Just have a seat right there.” You told him and he complied without a word. You positioned yourself across from him, camera in hand. You peered through the lens, adjusting the viewfinder and fiddling with the settings until you found what you liked. 

“Alright, Mr. Kiszka. Let’s just start with you playing for a bit.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You prided yourself for only letting your eyes widen for a brief moment before you schooled your expression. 

He began to play a soft tune and you walked around towards the left side of him, snapping shots as he played. The lights behind him from that angle created almost a halo around his head and brought out the red in his hair. 

“Good. That looks good. You can stop playing now.” You walked back in front of him. This was easy – slipping into work mode in order to distract yourself from the sinful thoughts that had been plaguing your mind since he walked in. “Now look up to your left for me.”

“Like this?” He asked, turning his head. 

“Chin out a little bit for me.”  He followed your direction. 

“Good. Now turn your body towards the door.” He swiveled on the stool. “Cross your left leg over your right and hold the body of your guitar in your lap.” He situated himself just as you explained. “Perfect. Now turn your head slightly to look at me."

The look he gave you was domination incarnate, his eyebrow raised just slightly, his eyes holding a challenge in them, and his plush lips just barely parted. You swallowed thickly as you took the picture.

“O-okay, now legs apart for me. Right hand in your lap. Hold the guitar in your left.” 

“How do you want me to hold it?” He asked, giving you a smirk. You bit your lip.  

“Prop it against your thigh.” 

He furrowed his brows at you. You sighed and walked over to him. You nudged one of his feet out further with your own and you did your best to ignore the way the muscles of his thighs strained against the fabric of his pants. You ignored his stare as you walked around him, assessing the position. Slowly, you placed your hands on his shoulders, turning his torso to face the opposite wall. You could feel the warmth of him through his suit.

“May I?” You asked him, gesturing towards where he was holding his guitar. 

“You may.” His voice was pitched lower, husky and smooth as whiskey. 

You reached out and carefully took hold of his guitar, situating it so that it rested against his thigh at an angle. 

“Take your left hand and hold right at the base” Your cheeks flamed as you realized the way your words sounded – the double meaning not lost on him either. He gave you a shit eating grin.

“You're good at this.” He said, voice nearly a whisper and dripping with… something, you just weren’t sure what. 

You huffed a breath as he rested his hand against the body of the guitar, right where you’d told him to. Mustering all the confidence you had, you met his stare. “Thank you. Sir.” The grin that overtook his face was downright sinful but you ignored it as you walked back over to the center of the room to take the shot. “Look at me.”

“Last one. Would you mind setting the stool off to the side for me?” 

“Of course.”  He said, voice saccharine and eyes glittering. He placed the stool by the wall. 

“I want you to face that way.” You jerked your head towards the right. “Hold it in your right hand, down by your side.” 

He complied. 

“This good?” 

You cocked your head to the side, eyeing his position. 

“Step your left leg forward just a bit.” That looked better. “Now look to your right, over my shoulder. Chin up. Perfect."

You released a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you snapped the final picture. 

“Alright, I think I’m finished here. Thank you, Mr. Kiszka. You’re free to go.” You hated the feeling of disappointment that took place in your gut. 

“Shame. I was enjoying myself.” 

“You like posing all pretty for pictures?” 

“You think I’m pretty?”

Neither of you moved for a long moment. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop and your breathing was embarrassingly heavy. Every line in his body was drawn tight, like he was ready to spring into action at any given moment. The look in his eye was dangerous – threatening even. 

Finally daring to break the spell, you turned around and switched the camera off. 

“It was a pleasure working with you, sir.” 

He simply hummed and exited the room quickly, not even glancing back once. 

You released the tension that you’d been holding in your shoulders and let out a shaky breath. You could hear him in the other room saying thank yous and goodbyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to go back out there. As much as you wanted him, you couldn’t put your job at risk like that… and anyways, the longer you thought about it, the more you became convinced that he had just been messing with you – harmless flirting since he’d obviously caught on to your attraction to him. You shook your head at yourself and cringed – you couldn’t believe you’d been as forward as you had with him. Sure, he’d most definitely started it, but you’d allowed your self control to fly out the window. Damn you, Jake Kiszka, you thought as you began to pack up the equipment. 

Once you were finished, you grabbed your purse and headed for the door. There were still several people there, milling about as you passed through. David was off in the corner, speaking to one of the sound guys. 

“Am I done for the day, David?” You called to him, stopping just by the door. 

“I release you from your duties.” He said, giving you a kind smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow.” You waved and exited the filming room. 

You’d made it almost to the end of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat. You spun around quickly, startled at the noise. 

“Woah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” You knew that damn voice. Jake emerged from one of the doorways, a grin on his face – the same one he’d been giving you all afternoon. 

“What are you still doing here?” You asked him, clutching your purse tighter to your chest. He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in nothing but a black button down. He’d untucked it and unbuttoned all of the buttons except for a few at the bottom. His necklace glittered where it rested against the tan skin of his chest. His guitar case was nowhere to be seen.  

“Waiting for you.” He said simply, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Me?” You couldn’t help but ask, suddenly afraid – despite the fact that he’d been openly flirting with you for the better part of two hours.

“Forgive me for assuming,” he said as he stepped towards you, caging you into the wall with his body, “but I could see it all over you in there. You want me. I want you. Figured we could do something about it.” 

You swallowed, brain working a mile a minute as you processed his words. There was no lie. You wanted him – and apparently he wanted you too. And doing something about it was sounding better and better by the second. 

“What did you have in mind?” You finally asked, voice coming out far more confident than you felt. 

“Oh, lots of things.” He said, voice low. “Been thinking about all the possibilities since the moment I saw you.” 

“There’s a dressing room down the hall.” You said quietly, nodding your head in that direction. “Locks from the inside.” 

“Oh?” He said, cocking his head to the side. “Can’t wait long enough to go somewhere else, huh?”

You flushed. 

“No, sir.” 

His eyes blazed at your words. Fast as lightning, his hand shot out to grip your bicep tightly and he all but dragged you down the hall. You pointed to the door to the dressing room and he ripped it open. You stumbled through the doorway, dropping your purse to the floor. He kicked the door shut and locked it and then he was on you – forearm pressed to your chest to back you into the wall. His face was inches from yours and you could feel his breath on you as he spoke. 

“I’d like to kiss you now.” 

“Then what are you waiting for?” 

He crushed his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, immediately plunging his tongue into your mouth. You submitted to him willingly, allowing him to lick into your mouth with no resistance. He tasted like cigarette smoke and somehow that turned you on even more, and you whimpered quietly into his mouth. His palms settled on your waist in a way that you could only describe as possessive, and he dug his fingers into your flesh as he kissed you. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, earning a groan from him. 

He pulled away, a string of spit connected your mouths as he drew back to look at you. You thought he looked gorgeous earlier, but that was nothing compared to how he looked now; his hair was messier and his cheeks were flushed, and his plush lips were swollen and slick with spit. He looked so fucking pretty. 

“You taste just as good as I imagined.” He said darkly. “Wanna taste the rest of you.” 

Without warning, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. He slotted his thigh between your legs and you moaned at the pressure. You rocked your hips forward on him, desperate for any type of friction on your throbbing pussy. 

“Please, Jake.” You whined as he nipped at your ear. 

He pulled away from you sharply. 

“You call me Jacob or you call me sir, understood?” 

You nodded. 

“Words.” He urged, eyes ablaze with lust. 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

He attached his lips to yours again, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. He tapped your thigh, signaling for you to jump up. You did, wrapping your legs around his waist as he gripped your ass with both hands, walking the two of you over to the vanity in the corner. He placed you gently onto the counter.

“Can I taste you, sweet girl?” He asked, lowering himself down to kneel on the floor so that he was eye level with your dripping cunt. 

“Yes, Jacob.” You whined. 

You toed your heels off, allowing him to slide your skirt off of you, tossing it impatiently somewhere in the room. He nudged your knees apart, splaying his palms on your thighs to keep you steady. He eyed the wetness leaking through the cotton of your panties and chuckled.

“You’re fucking soaked. Look at you.” He said, nuzzling his nose against you and inhaling deeply. 

“Please.” You begged, pussy throbbing with your need for him. 

“Please what?” 

“Please. Need you. Need your tongue.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a grin. “Where do you need it?” 

You whined and rocked your hips towards him. 

“Jake-Jacob.” You corrected yourself. “Need your tongue on my clit. Please, sir.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He looped two fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulled – effectively ripping the thin fabric. He wadded your ruined panties up and slipped them into his pocket. 

“For safekeeping.” He said, before licking a stripe up your weeping center. 

“Oh, fuck!” You yelled, threading your fingers through his hair. Your other hand gripped the edge of the counter as you threw your head back. He swirled his tongue around your swollen clit, suckling on it in a way that was almost too much. You cried out with each movement, his tongue playing you like that damn harmonica you'd seen him play on stage.

Without warning, he plunged his tongue into you, and he pressed his thumb to your clit. His other hand gripped your thigh, squeezing so tightly you were sure you would have bruises tomorrow. 

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, sweet girl. I want to taste it so bad.” He said into your heat, and you moaned loudly. He increased the speed of his thumb on your clit, and his tongue plunged in and out of you mercilessly, and it didn’t take long before you felt that familiar coil beginning to tighten in your belly. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You mumbled out, legs beginning to tremble. 

“Give it to me.” 

It was like your body was waiting for his permission. No sooner had he spoken the words, your orgasm was tearing through you. Your entire body shook as you came, and you called out his name as he kept working you through it, prolonging your pleasure. 

Jake rose from between your legs and you moaned at the sight of his face covered in your juices. He swiped a finger through your folds to collect your release and then wrapped his fingers around it, groaning at the taste of you. 

“You taste sweeter than fucking candy.”

“Kiss me.” You demanded, and you were embarrassed at the blatant neediness in your voice, but it melted away quickly as he met your demand. You could feel him, hard as a rock in his pants. You reached up with shaky fingers and began to undo the buttons on his shirt. When they were all unbuttoned, you slid the shirt off his shoulders and your eyes wandered over the expanse of skin, tan and glistening with sweat. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You whispered, sliding your palms across his chest and up to squeeze his broad shoulders. 

“So are you, sweet girl. Slide back for me.”

You did as he asked, scooching back on the counter until your back pressed into the cold mirror of the vanity. 

“Take off your top.” He said, voice suddenly hard and demanding. 

You gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it off, revealing the lacey bra you had on underneath. 

“Shit.” He said, eying your breasts through the fabric. He reached behind you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to spill out for him to admire. Wordlessly, he wrapped his lips around your left nipple, biting at the hard nub. You moaned at the sensation. 

“You like that? Like when I bite these pretty nipples.” 

“Yes.” You cried, and he bit down harder – the sharp pain serving as a warning. “Yes sir.” You corrected, tossing your head back. 

Suddenly, you felt one of his talented fingers slipping into you and you whined loudly. 

“Jacob!”

“Yes, sweet girl?” He asked, but you had nothing to say in return. You opened your mouth to ask for more, but all that escaped you was a loud moan. He caressed your walls with his fingers, eyes affixed to your face as he watched you surrender to the pleasure. 

“You look so pretty like this, y/n. All needy. Your cunt is dripping.”

“All for you.” You told him, toes curling in pleasure. He added another finger, curling them inside of you in the most delicious way. 

“God, look at you.” He said, leaning on his free arm as the other fucked into you mercilessly. “Never seen a prettier sight.” 

You whined, and the sound came out as almost a squeak. The pleasure was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself hurdling quickly into a second orgasm. 

“Already?” He asked you, cockiness dripping from his words. You clenched around his fingers, his tone spurring you on even more. “My needy little girl gonna come again for me? So soon?” 

“Yes, please sir, let me cum. Please!” 

“That’s it, baby. You sound better than my guitar. Cum on my fingers. Come on.” 

Your mouth dropped open into a perfect ‘o’ as you came again, this one even more powerful than the first. 

“Shit! Fuck!” 

“Careful, y/n. Don’t wanna be too loud. Someone might come in here, just to see your pretty cunt squeezing my fingers.” 

You’d never been one for dirty talk, but Jake was making it work. Something about his smooth voice saying such filthy things was driving you wild. 

“Jacob, I need you to fuck me. Right now.” 

“Oh you do, huh? Little kitten desperate for my cock?”

All you could do was whine in answer, brain cloudy after two orgasms. 

“Mmm. Wanna feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me.” He said, pulling his fingers from you with an obscene squelch. He took your hand in his and pressed it to the noticeable bulge in his pants. “See what you do to me? Jesus, I’ve never been so hard.”

“Fuck me. Need it so bad.”

“Patience baby.” He laughed. “Lemme get a condom. I’ve got one in my wallet.” 

You grabbed his wrist in your hand tightly, stopping him from reaching into his pocket. 

“I’m on birth control. And I’m clean. I want to feel you, sir. Please.” 

“Fuck.” He said through gritted teeth, eyes so dark they looked black. “Dirty girl, aren’t you?” 

You watched, mouth watering as he unbuttoned his pants. He slid them down so that they pooled around his ankles, and you moaned seeing that he didn’t have any underwear on. 

His cock was big – bigger than you’d been expecting. The head was pink and weeping with precum where it curved upward to rest against his soft stomach. He was a sight to behold. 

He brought his hand up to rest underneath your chin, fingers just barely grazing your skin.

"Spit."

You did as he commanded, allowing your saliva to drop from your mouth into his waiting palm. He groaned and wrapped his hand around his base, your spit mixing with his precum to make the perfect lubrication

“Can I taste you, sir?” You asked him, giving him your best doe eyes. 

“Oh, my sweet girl,” he said, one hand pumping himself slowly as the other caressed your jaw. “As much as I’d love that, I wouldn’t last if you did. And I wanna cum in your sweet cunt.” 

“Next time?” The question slipped out without thought and your eyes widened at the implication. 

Jake smiled, wide and dazzling. 

“Next time, baby.”

He pumped himself a few more times, using his thumb to smear his precum over his head. Finally, he nudged the blunt head of his cock through your folds, gathering your wetness. 

“You ready for my cock, baby girl? Ready for me to split you open?” 

“God, yes. Please.”

He gripped your hips in his strong hands and pulled you to the edge of the counter, allowing for your feet to touch the floor. 

“Turn around and bend over, y/n. I want you to watch in the mirror while I fuck you.” 

You moaned and did as he asked, pressing your ass back into him as you bent over the counter. You rested your forearms on the counter, and watched in the mirror as Jake slipped into you. Your pussy throbbed as you watched his mouth fall open – his brows clenched together and a breathy moan fell from his lips. The stretch of him was overwhelming as he pressed into you, slowly sinking into the hilt. He groaned in your ear as he finally bottomed out and you dropped your head back towards him. He pressed wet kisses to your neck as he stilled, allowing you time to adjust to his size.  

“Jesus, you’re so tight wrapped around me. Smooth as fucking velvet.” He said, lips brushing the shell of your ear. 

“Move, Jakey. Please move.”

“‘Jakey,’ huh?” He chuckled, beginning to slowly rock his hips into you. “I like that.”

He quickened his pace, pistoning in and out of you. You watched in the mirror as his face fell slack with pleasure and sweat dripped down his temples and neck. You pushed back into him with each thrust, desperate and needy for him. 

“You want me to go harder? You sure you can take it, pretty girl? You’ve given me two already… think you can give me another one?”

You moaned loudly, high pitched and pornographic, at his words. 

“I asked you a question.” He ground out through clenched teeth, wrapping his left arm around your waist  to pull you into him. His other hand delivered a hard slap to the side of your ass. 

“Fuck! Yes! Harder, sir!” You cried, the sting of the slap only adding to your pleasure. 

“God, you feel like a fucking dream.” He groaned, slamming into you at an impressive speed. The sound of his hips slapping against you was loud, and the wet sounds coming from in between the two of you were lewd and unmistakable. If anyone walked by the door, there would be no doubt about what was going on in here. He slapped your ass again, this time much harder, and you wailed at the extra pleasure the sting gave you. 

“Fuck, y/n, I’m close.” 

You have no idea what comes over you as he says that in your ear, but you’re opening your mouth to say the words before your brain has time to process it. 

“Choke me, Jacob. Fuck, I want you to choke me.”

“Oh, fuck.” He practically whined, wrapping his right hand around your throat. He squeezed lightly as he pounded into you. 

“Harder, Jakey. Harder. Please.” You wailed, and his fingers tighten around your throat. Your head began to swim and your vision wavered as your climax finally starts to build up again. It’s overwhelming, a feeling like something is trying to claw its way out of you. 

“I’m gonna cum.” You wheezed out, and Jake moaned nto your ear. 

“Give it to me. Cum on my cock.”

Jake released his hold on your throat and finally, your orgasm overtook you. Your vision whited out and your whole body began to shake madly. You screamed Jake’s name as you cum and distantly you hear him as he reaches his own climax. He’s moaning curses into your damp skin but it’s like you’re in another plane of existence. Your orgasm seems to go on forever as you clench around Jake – drawing every drop of cum he has in him. You've never had an orgasm last the way that one just did.

He stilled in you, and the both of you sit there, breathing heavily. 

“Y/n…” Jake says, voice wrecked and shaky. “You just- have you ever done that before?”

“Done what?” You slurred, brain covered in a fog. 

“You fucking squirted. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You shook your head. 

“No. Not done that before.”

Jake slipped out of you carefully, the both of you hissing at the feeling. You swayed where you were bent over the counter and Jake placed a steadying hand on your back. 

“You okay?” He asked, concern lacing his voice. 

“Yeah, fuck. I’m great. Just need to sit down.” 

Jake grabbed his shirt and placed it on the floor before helping you ease down onto it. 

“I’ve never cum that hard in my life.” You told him, a sleepy smile gracing your lips. He gave you a matching one in return. He looked so pretty looking at you like that – hair a mess, skin slick with sweat. He looked completely fucked out. 

“Me neither. Holy shit.” 

You giggled. 

“Come back to my apartment with me.” He said, pulling his pants back up and buttoning them. 

“Jake I don’t think I’m gonna be able to go again for at least a week.” You told him, letting your head fall back to rest on the wall. 

“No, I’m going to make you dinner and draw you a bath. And then I’m gonna cuddle the shit out of you. Come on.” He helped you to your feet. 

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and gathered your clothes  up as well, handing them to you. 

“Sounds pretty nice to me.” You giggled. “God, I’m probably going to get fired. There’s no way none of them heard that.” 

“Good.” Jake said, slipping his shirt on over his shoulders. “Now they know who you belong to.”

“Oh I belong to you now?” You jokingly challenged, carefully stepping back into your skirt and wincing. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake said with a smirk. He looked like sin incarnate. “I’m never letting you go.” 

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𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter XIX.

GIF by azertyrobaz

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: A lot of change in such a short amount of time.

WORD COUNT: ~14.2k

RATING: 18+ Explicit topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: fluff x10 (these two are in love), smut, oral (f), unprotected p in v (try at your own risk), a peek into domesticity, javi wears a cowboy hat, religious content, suicide mention, talks of grief and depression, angst x1000, if there's typos/grammatical errors just pretend that there's not, spoiler tags listed at the end of the chapter.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized.

A/N: okay, not to get all rambly and stuff here but i feel like this chapter best emulates the vision i had in my head when i started writing this fic *cries* it was one of those things that was already thought up before i even had an outline, lmfao. this just fits the song thoroughfare so well (at least the way i've interpreted it for our little story :p) like i kid you not... i was crying writing some of this. this pairing means the world to me and i want to thank everyone who's taken a chance on this like ahhh i was beyond nervous when i started posting my shit publicly, but the support truly has made me a lot more confident and overall improved and left me content in my writing abilities 🖤 anyways, imma stop before this note ends up a million words (nooo kat don't stop yapping, you're so sexy aha 🫦) feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or on ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

What follows is nothing short of perfect. 

She moves into Javier’s life bit by bit, her presence taking up space in the quiet corners of his trailer home until it feels like she’s always been there. Her clothes begin to mix with his in the closet, her little trinkets are scattered across his dresser, her scent lingers in the sheets. 

Her. Her. Her.

Javier can’t deny the comfort it brings. On nights when he works late, he’s greeted by the sight of her asleep on the couch, one hand tucked beneath her cheek, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across her face.

His heart swells at the sight every time, the weariness of the day evaporating the moment he steps inside. The kitchen always smells faintly of whatever meal she’s cooked, his dinner carefully wrapped and kept warm in the oven.

He’s used to solitude, but now he’s coming home to something more.

It’s not conventional by any means. They’re doing everything backwards, diving headfirst into a relationship that feels like it’s years old rather than what it really is.

Of course, amidst all the domestic bliss, there’s the physical side of things— something neither of them shy away from. Paloma, as it turns out, is even more insatiable than Javier ever imagined. He thought he had a strong sexual appetite; always eager to touch her, kiss her, pull her close, but her? She surpasses him with ease.

There isn’t a surface in his trailer that hasn’t been christened by their bodies tangled together— kitchen counters, the couch, the shower, even the porch steps under the stars.

She attacks him with the same wild eagerness every time, like a kitten who never tires of her favorite toy. Sometimes she waits for him by the door, barely dressed, ready to pounce the moment he walks in.

Other times, she sneaks up on him when he’s doing something mundane— washing dishes, folding laundry, and suddenly her hands are all over his broad body, tugging at his belt, her lips on his neck.

The more she’s around him, the more she craves him.

He’s convinced he’s never been wanted like this in his life, and he can’t help but give in every single time.

He never gets enough of the way her body feels under his hands, the soft, desperate moans she makes when he presses her up against a wall or when her nails dig into his back as she pulls him closer. She pushes him to the edge of control every time, and he loves the way she challenges him— how she matches his fire and fuels it even more.

It’s a storm of passion that neither of them want to temper.

Javier watches her move around the living room, laughing as she dances barefoot in one of his old shirts, and it hits him all over again how deeply he’s fallen. She is more than he ever expected, more than he ever thought he deserved, and the way she’s seamlessly integrated into his life feels almost like fate.

He can’t imagine it any other way.

“Got all of your stuff?” He lounges lazily on the couch, legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest. His eyes follow her as she sways to the rhythm of the song. 

She holds a glass of wine in one hand, taking slow, deliberate sips.

“All that I need, yes,” she replies with a small smile, turning slightly to face him. The soft glow of the evening light filters through the curtains, casting a warm hue across the room.

“Talk to your dad at all?” he asks, more gently this time, knowing the weight that question carries. He doesn’t push, but it’s there— the reminder that things still need to be resolved, even if they’ve been pretending like the outside world doesn’t exist.

She shakes her head, her lips pressing to the rim of the glass.

The memory of their fight lingers like a bruise that hasn’t quite healed. She knows she’ll have to talk to him eventually, but she just can’t bring herself to reach out. The sting of his accusations, his anger, feels too fresh.

The only time she goes to the house is to grab more of her things, slipping in and out when he’s not there.

Javier doesn’t say anything, letting the country song fill their silence. He understands the complicated knot of emotions she’s carrying, and he knows better than anyone how hard it is to face something like this head-on.

He motions her over with a wave of his hand. Paloma drains the last of her wine, setting the glass on the coffee table with a soft clink before climbing onto his lap. Her fingers thread through his hair the moment she settles.

“When you’re ready, we’ll go together,” he murmurs, in which she gives him a small smile, nodding and leaning in, lips meeting his in a slow, gentle kiss.

Their plan is simple— once the case is officially closed, they’re gone. They’ll head down to the Peña ranch in Laredo while he gets his affairs together before making the big move to California.

Javier has already told his father about it, something that had him feeling more anxious than he cared to admit.

He was worried about Chucho’s reaction, how he would feel about him running off halfway across the country with a girl he’s only been seriously involved with for a handful of months, and officially dating for a shorter amount of time. 

But when his pops picked up the phone, Javier didn’t need to explain much. The older man could hear it in his son’s voice— the warmth, the adoration, the way Javi couldn’t talk about Paloma without his tone softening.

It was a feeling Chucho recognized, one that reminded him of how he’d spoken about his own wife all those years ago. So instead of the lecture Javier had been expecting, all he got was a warm chuckle on the other end of the line and a simple request:

“Bring that girl home already.”

She is beyond excited for the trip to his hometown. She’s talked about it more times than he can count, her eyes lighting up whenever she imagines what it’ll be like on the ranch. There’s a spark of curiosity too, a genuine desire to understand where he comes from, to see firsthand what shaped him into the man he is.

He’s been giving her a rundown of all the names, stories, and family dynamics, painting vivid pictures of boisterous holiday celebrations.

It’s everything she never had— being an only child of two only children made growing up feel lonely at times. But now, the thought of being wrapped up in a lively, bustling, large family fills her with a sense of belonging she’s always longed for.

He smiled to himself as he watched her ramble about her plans to help his pops. The enthusiasm she exudes when talking about tending to it all is infectious. “You’re more excited about the horses than meeting my family,” he teased.

She laughed softly. “Maybe a little. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by animals. It’s like getting to live out a little childhood dream. As you can tell, I had a lot of those.”

“Well, you’re gonna get your fill of horses, cows, chickens— you name it.”

Paloma doesn’t have a concrete plan for California, and Javier doesn’t press her for one.

She’s still figuring it all out, trying to navigate the delicate balance between who she wants to become and the life they’re about to build together. It’s why he’s been searching for a job that not only keeps him grounded but also provides enough stability to take care of her.

He’s determined to carry the weight of their future on his shoulders, even if she resists the idea.

“You don’t need to worry about some part-time job, Paloma. I want you to focus on your music,” he told her one night as they sat across from each other at the dinner table.

She shook her head, her brows furrowing slightly. “I want to pull my own weight, Javi. I don’t want you feelin’ like you gotta take care of me.”

“You are pulling your weight. Your music is your weight,” he countered gently, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I just don’t want you wasting your time on some job that doesn’t mean anything when you’ve got so much talent. You’re too good for that.”

She bit her lip, still not fully convinced. But there’s something so different about how Javier cares for her. It’s not about control or dominance; it’s about how he wants to see her succeed. 

To be taken care of like this isn’t completely foreign to her, but the depth of his desire to protect and provide is different to how her father had approached it.

Javier is solid, dependable, and she knows— without a shred of doubt— that she can fall blindly into his arms, and he’ll always be there to catch her.

His resignation letter is already printed, sitting on his desk at the station, ready to be dated and signed. Yet every time he considers turning it in, he hesitates. He knows the moment he submits it, the wheels are set in motion.

Romeo will likely be relieved that Javier’s leaving, but the fact that he’s taking his daughter with him?

It’ll be worse for them if he acts before she has the chance to speak to him.

Their culprit may be dead, but there’s still evidence to sift through, a case to finalize, press to deal with— and every passing day keeps them busy enough to avoid any serious confrontation. Still, Romeo finds small ways to needle him, little comments here and there that Javier swallows down for Paloma’s sake.

He’s biting his tongue more than he’s used to, and it grates on him. But a promise is a promise.

“Just don’t say anything to him,” Paloma had murmured one night, her voice lazy and sweet as they lay in bed together. She was tracing small, invisible shapes on his chest, her chin resting between his pecs, looking up at him with those half-lidded and dreamy eyes that have him wrapped around her finger.

“I mean it, Javi. No use in stirrin’ the pot just t’ get the last word in.”

He’d been in no shape to argue. Still recovering from the way she’d ridden him into oblivion, leaving him breathless, his body spent, he would have agreed to just about anything she asked at that moment. He nodded, a tired smile tugging at his lips as his fingers trailed down her spine.

“Okay, baby. I won’t.”

Since then, he’s done his best to keep his head down, ignoring the digs.

But it’s not easy. He’s a man of pride, unfortunately. Yet, every time he feels the urge to snap back, he remembers the look in her eyes, the softness of her voice as she asked him to keep the peace.

For her, he would do anything.

“Do we really have to go?” Javier’s voice carries a slight grumble, his eyes trained ahead as they drive toward the church.

“Yes, Javi,” Paloma replies with a playful sigh, barely looking away from the small mirror on the visor where she’s touching up her lipstick. “I promised Tammy. S’been two weeks since I’ve been.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, fingers tapping against the steering wheel.

He’d abandoned all of it— the hymns, the prayers, the rituals— the second he set foot in Colombia, a lifetime ago. He never looked back.

Churches are just places steeped in sorrow.

Now, he’s supposed to sit in those old pews with the stuffy building smelling of musty wood and incense, trying to keep his head straight for over an hour. The thought alone feels suffocating.

But when she casually mentioned she was going, something in him felt the urge to tag along.

He glances over at her and finds her rubbing her lips together. Her hair is soft and brushed out, framing her face like she’s stepped right out of a dream, and that dress— modest, sweet, clinging to her curves just right— shouldn’t have this effect on him.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out lookin’ like that.”

She glances over at him, a knowing smile lighting up her face. “Oh, come on. I’m not even tryin’ to be sexy.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the problem,” he replies, shaking his head. “You don’t have to try.”

She lets out a soft laugh before turning her attention back to the mirror.

“If I combust into flames the moment I cross the threshold, you won’t have anyone to blame but yourself,” He can’t help but comment, eyes narrowing at the looming cathedral as they approach.

“You didn’t have to come, you know?” She counters, tossing him a sideways glance as she puts in her earrings. She knows this isn’t his scene, hell, it’s only hers because it’s all she’s known, but she made a promise to Tammy and she has to make good on it.

“I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I stayed home.” The way he says it, so matter-of-factly, makes her heart swell.

Leaning over, she plants a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek. “You’re the best boyfriend,” she murmurs, trailing her lips over his skin before landing another kiss, this one just at the corner of his mouth. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

He grunts in response, parking the truck with a resigned sigh. He spits his gum into the wrapper and steps out, circling around to open her door. Because, of course he does, ever the gentleman— and before she slides off the seat, he leans in and kisses her softly.

“You really do look beautiful,” his eyes linger on her, full of that quiet admiration she’s come to adore.

“Thank you.” She scrunches her nose playfully, placing her hand in his much larger one. “Now try ‘n keep your hands to yourself. Please.” she adds, her voice teasing, but she means it. They are about to walk into a church, after all.

As they step through the large doors, the weight of every gaze in the room falls on them immediately. It’s impossible to avoid in a town this size, where everyone knows everyone— and everyone’s business.

Especially with Paloma showing up with a man on her arm. And not just any man, but the ex-DEA agent who’d swooped in like some kind of hero, playing a key role in solving the string of grisly murders that had haunted them for far too long.

The whispers are quick to follow. They ripple through the church like wildfire.

“I heard he knocked her up ‘n Romeo went ballistic.”

“Word is, she’s livin’ with him now. Bet they eloped— got hitched in secret. Do you see a ring on her finger?”

“I think it’s about time she found her a man. Can’t be young ‘n pretty forever.”

She can feel every glance, every sideways look, but it doesn’t rattle her. She’s been on the receiving end of this gossip way too many times, and Javier’s steady presence beside her is all she needs to keep moving forward. Still, it annoys her— how quickly people jump to conclusions, spinning stories based on nothing more than their own imaginations.

He seems entirely unfazed. His hand is firm in hers, fingers laced together. If he’s heard the whispers, he gives no sign of it, shoulders squared and head held high.

The man’s been through far worse than small-town rumors, and it shows in the way he carries himself, like none of this could ever touch him.

And maybe that’s why she feels so at ease despite the scrutiny. Let them talk, she thinks. They don’t know the half of it— the tenderness, the quiet moments, who they really are.

Her gaze sweeps across the room until she spots Tammy, Kristy, and Lola, already waving them over from a pew near the front. Their excitement is palpable, all big smiles and enthusiastic waves.

“Saved you a seat right next to us, pretty girl! Didn’t know you were gonna bring company,” Lola says with a grin, absolutely shameless as her eyes rake over Javier’s tall, broad frame. She’s practically fanning herself, and Kristy has to tug at her arm, reminding her with a sharp whisper, “We’re in the Lord’s house.”

She can’t blame her, honestly, he is looking extra handsome in his dark jeans, buttoned shirt and cowboy boots. “Last-minute plus one,” she jokes, leaning in to give them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Tammy, being the warm, welcoming force that she is, pulls him into a hug without a second thought. “Oh, you two are so good together,” she coos, her voice full of approval as she steps back to admire them. Then, with all the subtlety of a freight train, she adds, “Your babies are goin’ to be the cutest gosh darn things, I swear.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tammy,” Paloma manages to say, her cheeks heating up at the comment, shooting her friend a pointed look.

The older woman just grins wider, clearly proud of her little proclamation. “What?” she says, feigning innocence. “I’m just sayin’. You both got good genes.” 

Javier finds it amusing, chuckling beside her. “Let’s not give Romeo another reason to want to kill me.”

“He can kick rocks, for all I care.”

They settle into the pew after that, Javier’s arm resting comfortably around her shoulders and he pulls her just a little closer, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “She’s not wrong, you know.” His lips brush against her skin, making her shiver. “And with the way you’ve been actin’, won’t be long ‘till we see if she has a point or not.”

She glares up at him playfully, elbowing his side, “Not helping.”

And damn it, the way he’s looking at her, like the idea of a future with her, a family, doesn’t seem so crazy at all… it makes her feel something deep in her chest. 

Her eyes move over the now-crowded space, gaze flitting from one familiar face to another. 

She doesn’t quite know what she’d even do if she spotted her father sitting among the congregation.

Javier, ever in tune with her, picks up on her subtle tension without missing a beat. “He’s at the station all day.”

“Right…” she echoes, her voice barely a whisper as she shifts in her spot, sitting back against the bench.

Before he can offer her any reassurance, the opening chords of the organ echo through the church, signaling the start of mass. He exhales quietly, already bracing himself for what he knows will feel like the longest hour of his life. 

Once mass is dismissed and they say their goodbyes to the sisters, Paloma gently grabs his arm before he can leave. “Gotta go use the ladies’ room. Meet you outside?”

He nods, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head. “Sure, I’ll be waiting.”

With a warm smile, she turns on her heel and heads towards where the restrooms are tucked away. After finishing, she slows to a stop on her way back as something catches her eye.

Through the soft hues of the stained glass windows, she spots a familiar silhouette, unmistakable even from afar. Her breath hitches slightly as she bites her lower lip, hesitation bubbling to the surface. A crossroad.

Her feet decide before her mind does. They guide her to the back door, pushing her out into the small stone patio beyond.

The courtyard is quiet, the sunlight filtering down gently, a rare mercy in the typically unforgiving Texan heat. The large angel fountain at the center casts long shadows, its soft trickling sound almost calming.

There, on a weathered stone bench, her father sits. His head is bowed, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling lazily in the air. She stands frozen by the doorway for a moment, studying him.

“Hey, Daddy...” Her voice is soft, tentative as she finally steps forward, announcing herself. He doesn’t react immediately, but his head tilts up, and his gaze finds hers.

There’s no anger or bitterness in his eyes— just the same stubbornness she’s always known. He nods, acknowledging her in that quiet, unspeaking way that’s so familiar it hurts.

She walks over slowly and sits down beside him on the bench. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the space between them filled with the soft gurgle of the fountain.

“Didn’t think you’d be here today.” He says, voice gruff from smoking.

“Surprised you weren’t. You never work on Sundays.”

“Yeah, well, needed to do somethin’ to keep my mind occupied.”

A quiet settles and birds chirp in the distance, but even they seem hesitant to break the tension. Paloma picks at the lint on her dress, her fingers twitching to keep herself from fidgeting too obviously.

“Congrats on closin’ the case,” she blurts out awkwardly, still staring at her lap.

“‘Bout time we caught that piece of shit. Did us a favor by offin’ himself,” he grunts, ashing the cigarette. He blows the smoke away from her, their eyes still avoidant. “People can finally stop livin’ in fear... things can go back to the way they were.”

There’s a pointedness to that last part of the sentence she can’t ignore. She finally lifts her gaze to him, heart twisting at the sadness in his eyes that he’s trying so damn hard to bury behind his gruff exterior.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice softening in a way that almost breaks her. “Please... come back home. It’s so quiet without you there.”

She quickly looks away, focusing on the path that leads to the cemetery just beyond the church. She wants to say something, anything, but the words refuse to come.

“That fight we had… it hurt,” his words drip with so much sincerity, she feels like she could drown in it.

Her father has never been one for grand apologies— he’s more of a man of looks and gestures, the kind of man who expects things to go back to normal after a few quiet, wordless days. But she can tell this time is different.

There’s no easy return from the things they said to each other that night.

“I shouldn’t have talked about momma like that.” She pivots the conversation.

“And I shouldn’t have called you what I did.”

She flinches ever so slightly, still feeling the sting of it.

“We both said things we didn’t mean,” he continues, his voice softer now, like he’s trying to walk back the pain. “And I’m so sorry. I was angry ‘n out of line. Broke your windchime that night… swept up the pieces after, but I couldn’t bear to throw ‘em out.”

Her lips form into a pout at the remembrance of the broken sentimental item.

“… It’s been haunting me— that thing,” he says with a dry laugh, shaking his head. “It’s like she’s standing there, right over my shoulder, reprimanding me for how I treated you.”

Paloma sucks in a breath, not knowing how to react.

How is she to tell him that she appreciates his apology, but that she isn’t coming back home?

“I never should’ve said what I did,” he repeats, tossing the cigarette butt into a nearby ashtray tower. “But I need you to understand, I’ve been sittin’ in that house with nothin’ but my own guilt for company. It’s been eatin’ me up.”

“You’re forgiven, Daddy.” She turns her head, catching the way he’s already watching her. “You’re right, we both said things we didn’t mean. Caught in the heat of the moment. But I meant what I said about not putting my life on hold to stay here.”

His brows knit together, and now it’s his turn to sit in silence. The frown deepens as she continues.

“I’m not doing that anymore. I can’t.”

“What are you saying, Paloma?” His words are thick with something she can’t quite place— anger, sadness, frustration. Maybe all of it.

She swallows hard, her eyes darting between his, attempting to read the emotions building there.

“I’m moving to California.”

At that, he lets out a laugh, but there’s nothing warm or amused about it. It’s sharp, cutting, before his face hardens into a look of disbelief. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“It means what I said,” she snaps, immediately going on the defensive. “Me and Javier— we’re going to California. We’ve got plans to live there. Together.”

He shakes his head, another condescending laugh escaping his lips. He stands abruptly, his annoyance palpable.

If she wasn’t so worried about ruining her manicure, she’d dig her nails into the stone bench.

“Javier, of course,” he spits the name like it’s something foul, his lip curling in disgust. That’s when her resolve snaps, and she’s on her feet, squaring off with him.

“You know, if you’d set aside your damn pride for just a second, you’d see he’s not doing anything wrong! He treats me right, Daddy. He cares for me. And here you are, acting like he’s some kind of—”

“Some kind of lowlife?” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “You have a thing for those.”

That apology from before has officially been tossed out the window.

“You are so unbelievable!” Her voice trembles, her own frustration boiling over. “I thought we were havin’ a moment and here you go, actin’ like you always do!”

Romeo’s eyes narrow, his jaw tight as he spits back, “It’s hard not to be hurt when your daughter tells you she’s skippin’ town with some guy who slept his way through a whole fuckin’ country, worked alongside murderers— then came into town and seduced her right out of our house!”

She runs her hands down her face, absolutely exasperated.

Hadn’t he been the one who jumped on the welcome wagon first? He was the one who loved Javier right off the bat— talked him up like he was the best thing since sliced bread. But now that they’re together, suddenly Javi’s the enemy.

She can’t believe they’re doing this here, at church, of all places. They haven’t started shouting yet, but she knows it’s only a matter of time. She needs to end this before it gets to that point.

“It was my idea,” she snaps. “He’s skippin’ town ‘cause of me. I want to leave. I’m the one chasin’ the dream. Why can’t you just be happy for me?”

Her voice breaks on the last word, heart cracking open.

He just stares at her, eyes hard, jaw set in that obstinate way she knows all too well. The silence between them stretches painfully until the static of his walkie-talkie breaks it, some garbled voice calling him back to the station.

“We’ll finish this another time,” he mutters, his voice hard, already turning away from her.

Paloma grits her teeth, her whole body shaking with exasperation. Why does it always have to end like this? Why can’t they just have one conversation that doesn’t feel like a war?

“Whatever,” she hisses under her breath, the word bitter in her mouth as she watches him leave.

As soon as he’s out of sight, she sinks back onto the bench, deflating like a balloon that’s lost all its air. She buries her head in her hands, fingers threading through her hair as she attempts to steady her breath.

She needs to recompose herself before she returns to Javier— who, by now, must be wondering what the hell is taking her so long in the restroom.

Just as she’s preparing to leave, a figure emerges from the surrounding greenery. Her eyes widen in surprise. 

“Gabriel.”

He nods, tipping his tattered baseball cap, his clothes streaked with dirt, likely from a long day’s work. His usual quiet, rugged demeanor is as familiar as the earthy scent of soil clinging to him.

“Didn’t mean t’ eavesdrop on you,” he motions vaguely towards where she had been sitting moments before with her father. “Was workin’ when y’all started, uh...” He gestures again, not knowing what to say.

She nods, quickly wiping away some of the dampness beneath her eyes, her heart still hammering from the emotional upheaval. “It’s alright. Surprised you’re still workin’ here, though,” she says, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters. “Heard Sloane quit the bar.”

The mention of her ex-best friend sends a flicker of discomfort across her face, her lips twitching with a grimace. 

He shrugs, looking down at the dirt under his boots. “Ranch is really kickin’ off. August needed her there more. The hour drive wasn’t worth it no more.”

The sudden openness from him catches her off guard. This was more than she’d heard him say in all the months that she knew him.

“And you? Aren’t you needed there too?”

His throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes flicking around for a brief moment before he answers. “Yeah, just… not in the same way. Plus, I like bein’ here. S’real peaceful.” Away from them, he thinks, the words bitter in his mind, though he doesn’t dare say that out loud. There’s a heaviness to him, like he’s been carrying them for far too long.

“More peaceful than all that beautiful land y’all got?” She presses, tilting her head, genuinely curious.

“Yeah… crazy, right?” He forces a chuckle, but it comes out awkward, like the sound doesn’t belong to him.

She shifts her weight, feeling the unease creeping between them. This conversation is starting to feel weirder by the second, and she’s ready to get out of it.

“Well, I have to get goin’—” She starts, thumbing over her shoulder toward the doors.

“Right, yeah, yeah,” He blurts, stumbling over his words. “I just, uh, overheard you sayin’ you were leavin’?” The statement comes out as a question before he rushes to continue, before she has a chance to respond. “That’s… awesome. California, huh? So far. I can see why you’d wanna ditch this shithole. S’not very fun here. It can feel… stale.”

She narrows her eyes, not sure what to make of his sudden shift in tone. “Yeah. M’real excited.”

A beat of silence passes, yet it feels like it drags. He should say something— warn her— but August’s looming presence, the consequences of stepping out of line, keep him in check. Fear clings to his skin like sweat, holding him back from doing what he knows is right.

“Well,” she breaks the tension, her voice clipped with polite finality. “Have a nice day, Gabe.” She forces a small smile before turning to leave.

“Just—” He almost steps forward, as if to stop her. She halts mid-step, her back stiffening. “Be careful. Stay safe.”

Her heart skips a beat but she keeps her face calm. “Thanks. You too,” she responds, giving him one last look before walking off, her pace quickening.

She feels flustered and unsettled. All she wants now is to find Javi and get the hell out of here.

Javier leans against his truck, chewing on a new stick of gum as his eyes anxiously scan the church’s entrance. His posture tenses every time the door swings open, but when he finally spots her stepping outside, he straightens up.

Pushing off from the hood, he meets her halfway with a worried look already forming on his face.

“Saw your dad was here, and you took a minute comin’ out. I assumed...” His voice trails off as he takes in her expression. His brow furrows, and he cups her jaw, thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. “Hey, everything okay?”

She shrugs, placing her hands on top of his, grounding herself in his touch. “Dunno. Talked to Daddy about us leavin’. It started off strong— apologies, the whole woodworks,” she bites her lip, “Then I mentioned the move, and well, he got like he always does.” She rolls her eyes, still feeling frustrated by it. “Divine timing when his walkie went off. He got called back to the station. Pretty sure the whole damn town would’ve heard us arguin’ if he had stayed.”

He sighs heavily, frustration knotting in his chest. This shit always happens when I’m not around. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he feels partially guilty for being the catalyst to the emotional tug-of-war between her and Romeo.

She shakes her head, her tone resolute. “No need to apologize, honey. I’m not gonna change my mind. I know what I want. He’s either gonna have to suck it up and get with the program, or he can wallow in his sadness. S’not my responsibility no more.” Her voice breaks a little at the end, but she’s firm, determined.

She moves his hands from her face down to her waist, stepping closer, resting her cheek against his chest. The steady beat of his heart soothes her, the rising anxiety easing under the warmth of his embrace and the smell of his cologne. “Just... hug me, please.”

Javier doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around her tightly, pulling her against him, his chin resting atop her head. He rocks them gently, his thumbs brushing the small of her back in slow, comforting circles.

He’s proud of her— proud of the way she’s standing her ground, making choices for herself despite how much it clearly costs her.

It kills him that she’s had to fight for her independence like this, but life is cruel and has a harsh way of teaching lessons. He should know.

The weird interaction with Gabriel fades entirely, forgotten in the feel of being in his arms.

“C’mon,” he murmurs after a while, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let’s go home.”

She moans sweetly as Javier’s lips ravage her neck, his hands gripping her thighs firmly, hiking her legs around his waist. Her fingers thread through his hair as she tries to steady herself, arching into him. “Javi, we’re gonna be late,” she gasps, though the protest lacks any conviction.

He responds with nothing but a low grunt, lips dragging hotly along her neck, the scrape of his teeth making her shudder. His tongue flicks against her ear, the nibble on her lobe sending a wave of pleasure down her spine. 

“I can’t leave without gettin’ a taste first,” he mutters, kissing his way down her body.

Her breath snags in her throat, anticipation building as he drops to his knees before her. She props herself up on her forearms, watching him with dark, lust-filled eyes as he disappears beneath the hem of her new red dress— a gift from him.

Javier had picked it out himself, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw it in the shop window. He knew then he had to see his in girl it. 

And she did not disappoint. The way it adorned her body had him nearly losing his mind. His pulse had jumped, and his jeans got tighter within seconds, the sight of her owning the room in those matching red heels making his mouth water.

His hands slide up her thighs, bunching the fabric as he goes, but when he sees the barrier of her underwear, he lets out a dramatic sigh of disappointment. “For once, you’re actually wearin’ these?” he grumbles, teeth nipping the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, his breath hot and teasing.

She shivers under his touch, legs trembling slightly as she smirks down at him. “I’m gonna be up on stage tonight, Javi. You want everyone gettin’ a good look at my snatch or somethin’?”

Javier snorts, lifting his head briefly to meet her gaze with a wicked smile. “Your snatch?” he echoes, amused by her choice of words, his laughter a low rumble that sends a new wave of heat between her legs.

She shrugs playfully. “Well? Do ya?”

It’s this balance of passion and lightheartedness that keeps her craving every second she can spent wrapped up in him.

“As pretty as she is,” he murmurs, returning to his spot, his curved nose trailing along the skin he’s just kissed, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I’d rather keep this beauty for my eyes only.”

He sneaks his fingers up to tug at the band of her underwear and she instinctively lifts her hips, helping him peel them off, the rush of desire pushing any thoughts of being late far from her mind.

His touch is confident, decisive— he doesn’t tease, his impatience evident as he buries his tongue inside her. A sharp gasp escapes her lips, her legs instinctively clamping around his head, and he groans against her, the warmth and pressure of her thighs enveloping him.

They lose themselves in the pleasure, savoring this stolen time, but soon, the insistent ringing of his work phone breaks through their bliss, left forgotten on the dresser in the bedroom.

“Y-Ya gonna get that?” she manages to whimper out between breathy pants, the last thing she wants is for him to leave her on this table without getting her off.

Javier hesitates, half a mind to ignore it completely and continue eating her out, but the sound is persistent, and he knows it must be important. With a reluctant groan, he pulls back, trapping her clit between his lips for a final, wet suck before placing a gentle kiss on it.

“Yeah,” he grunts in displeasure, rising from his kneeling position. 

He hovers over her, leaning down to kiss her deeply, his hand moving to grip her jaw, his touch both possessive and tender. “Quédate aquí,” he whispers, their lips brushing.

She nods, still reeling from the intoxicating sensation of his tongue and the musky scent of herself lingering on his mustache, feeling her pussy flutter at his words. “Okay. Hurry,” she breathes, heart racing.

He moves quickly, and she’s left there, feeling utterly boneless, lust thrumming through her veins as she waits for his return. Am I dreaming? she wonders, hardly able to believe that a man like Javier Peña actually exists— and that he’s hers. 

She half-expects to hear the annoying sound of her alarm, pulling her back to reality.

The call keeps him longer than he’d like, but when he finally returns to the scene he left behind, the sight takes his breath away. She’s still perched on the table, her dress riding up her thighs, legs partially spread, beckoning him to return.

She looks like a breathtaking piece of art, a masterpiece crafted just for him.

“Hmm,” he hums, the sound coming from deep within his throat, and he can’t help but lean in, kissing her again and again, each peck igniting the air between them.

“Everythin’ okay?” she asks, her voice laced with breathless anticipation as she chases after his lips, not really caring for his answer— at least not right now.

“Yeah,” he responds tersely in a low rumble. His lips are swollen, aching for her as he sinks to his knees again, eager to resume where he left off.

The sultry sounds of her moans and his lewd, wet noises fill the air, creating a symphony of pleasure that dances off the walls.

When she comes, it’s with a sharp cry of his name, and he can’t help but smirk against her cunt, savoring every drop she has to offer. He lingers there, lapping her up before showering her with gentle kisses until he finds his way back to her mouth.

Her lipstick is smeared across his face, and she giggles breathlessly at the sight, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. She brings her thumb up to wipe away a smudge. “The color looks good on you,” she teases.

“Likewise,” he counters, squeezing her hip possessively, a goofy, lovestruck grin spreading across his face.

He gently pulls her panties back up, kissing each knee as he helps her off the table. As they both head into the bathroom to fix their appearances, the mood shifts.

She leans over the sink, fixing her hair, and can’t help but break the silence. “Who called?”

“One of the guys at the station. The girl from the hospital has finally been identified.”

Her heart sinks as she blinks quickly, turning away from the mirror to face him. “And?”

“Runaway reported missing from Louisiana. No wonder we never got any hits from anyone around here,” he continues, brows pulling together in a thoughtful frown.

Something curls in her gut at the news, her proximity to the neighboring state bringing back the god-awful memories of that night at the swamp— the ones she thought she was doing a good job of storing away. “Is she going to be okay?”

“Her grandparents are on their way to be with her. Aside from that, nothing has changed.” His voice lowers as he adds, “She still hasn’t woken up.”

Paloma nods slowly, turning back to the mirror for just a moment. She allows her face to reflect the uncertainty swirling within her, the worry etching lines of concern across her features. Despite her efforts to mask it, Javier’s keen eyes catch her reflection, but he says nothing.

It's much later on in the night and she’s on the last song of her set, nerves gnawing at her insides like it’s her very first performance. The familiar crowd blurs into a haze, her focus narrowing until it lands on him.

Their eyes meet, and an electric smile spreads across her face, an intimate connection amid the sea of faces.

“This last song is new,” she says, her voice trembling just a little. “Came to me in a dream.” This dream, of course, being him. “For a special someone.” Her nose crinkles with a soft laugh, part nerves, but mostly because he has this effect on her— making her feel like she’s drunk on love, intoxicated by the way he looks at her like she’s the only thing that matters.

Javier’s brows shoot up, surprise dancing in his eyes, his heart leaping at her declaration. The flush creeping up his cheeks is hot, and he tilts his head slightly, still planted in the familiar table where he sat all those months ago, always drawn to her.

Front and center, just as he always intends to be.

As she strums the opening chords, the audiences distorts into a gentle blur. These are the chords she agonized over for hours, the lyrics she metaphorically vomited in her notebook, words that only made sense when she thought of him.

Her band is here too, in perfect harmony, amplifying the depth of what she’s trying to convey. They’ve helped her make this moment feel as big as her heart— a reflection of the way he makes her feel.

Music is something that has always just been there, a backdrop in his chaotic life. It’s strange to admit, but he’d given up on enjoying that small pleasure of life a long time ago.

Sitting in this uncomfortable bar stool, watching her sing her heart out about him has a warmth spreading through his entire being like a fucking fever.

She’s using the one thing she’s best at— her music— to tell him, in the clearest way possible, that she loves him.

He’s never felt more alive.

She looks perfect under the stage lights, the guitar pressed against her body, her dress flowing like a cascade of silk.

An angel, sent down from the heavens to alter the course of his life forever. 

“‘Cause in your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck is the only place I think I’d ever wanna be.”

Once the song ends, the applause jolts her back to the present, the warmth of the spotlight melting away as she realizes that she’s not alone in this moment.

The crowd cheers, but it’s his gaze she feels most. A soft blush blooms on her cheeks, and she quickly thanks the audience and her band, her voice catching slightly with a shy laugh.

As she steps down from the stage, a few regulars come up to compliment her and she appreciates it, she does, she’s just more focused on getting over to Javi right now.

The moment she’s close, he is out of his seat, sweeping her up into his arms without a care for who’s watching. He kisses her with such fervor that the nearby patrons break into whistles and teasing cheers. But he doesn’t hear any of it.

It’s just her— her lips, her warmth, the soft press of her body against his. His hands are firm on her waist, drawing her closer, like he never wants to let her go.

When he finally pulls back, breathless and dazed, his eyes shine with the depth of his emotions spilling over. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever known,” he says, his voice heavy with meaning.

She can’t help but laugh softly against his mouth, her chest swelling with a joy so pure she feels dizzy from it. “So, I’m guessin’ you liked the song?”

“I loved it, Paloma,” he says without hesitation. Before he can stop himself, the words slip from his lips. “I love you.”

She bites her bottom lip, the shimmer in her eyes giving way to the incoming happy tears. “You mean that?”

Javier’s expression softens even more, his hands cupping her face. “I do,” he declares, “I love you, and I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Her heart feels so full— it might burst. “I love you too, Javi. So much.”

He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, doesn’t know what he did to deserve someone like her, but right now it feels like the universe has aligned just for them.

Paloma spots his cruiser as she pulls into their little secluded spot, a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside her.

It’s just a picnic, a simple one before her closing shift at the library. She smiles to herself, glancing at the basket she’s packed with all their favorites.

Javier finally put in his letter of resignation, getting nothing but a scoff out of the sheriff and nothing more. It had surprised him, but he let it go, not wanting to give him an in to continue to berate him. 

She tried getting in contact with her dad, to have that final talk like he had said they would that afternoon at church. But he slipped through her fingers like sand, dodging every attempt to communicate.

Every unanswered call, every ignored voicemail— it all piled up until she realized he was resolute on dealing with things by simply not dealing with them at all.

That hurt, more than she let on, especially knowing in just one week she’d be gone, moving on to the next stage of her life without mending that broken piece between them.

She cried in Javier’s arms the night it really hit her, the weight of it all too much. He held her tight, whispering soothing words about letting time heal the wound.

He had faith her father would come around— eventually. “He loves you, Paloma. He just needs to figure his own shit out first,” Javier had said, his hand rubbing slow circles on her back. She nodded, letting herself believe it because she had to. She’d leave him a way to contact her when the time came.

He wouldn’t stay like this forever— he couldn’t.

Now, here she is, walking past her boyfriend’s cruiser, her mood brightening as she catches sight of something unexpected.

There, sitting in the backseat, is a cowboy hat. Her eyebrows shoot up in amusement. She knows it’s part of his work uniform, but he’s never actually worn it.

The image of him in that hat— oh, she just knows he’d look so damn good. A slow grin spreads across her face as she pulls open the door and grabs it, placing it on her own head with a playful flourish. It’s way too big for her, of course, but she likes the way it feels.

She shuts the door with her hip and practically skips toward the familiar clearing. The sun is warm on her skin, and the light breeze carries the scent of wildflowers. She feels light, almost carefree, with the hat bouncing on her head and the picnic basket swinging in her hand.

Javier leans against the towering oak, his back to her, a cigarette perched between his fingers, smoke curling lazily into the air. She spots him, her eyes narrowing as she tsks at him with playful disapproval. “Javi,” she shakes her head, though there’s a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

He flicks it to the ground. “Alright, you got me. First one I’ve had in weeks though.” He turns to face her, the sight of her in his cowboy hat making his heart stutter in his chest.

She’s all soft curves and sunshine, the wide-brimmed hat too big on her head but suiting her in the most unexpected way. He removes his aviators, his dark eyes taking her in as if he’s seeing her for the first time all over again.

“You were doin’ so well,” she comments, stepping up to him with a mock scolding tone, though there’s no bite behind it. She’s already on her toes, reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips, her fingers grazing the stubble on his chin.

“Sorry.” Javier smirks against her mouth, flicking the brim of the hat. “What’s all this?” he grabs the picnic basket from her hand as he begins to set everything up.

“Saw it sittin’ in your car and it got me wonderin’ why the hell you don’t wear it more often,” she says with a grin, bending down to help him fan out the blanket over the grass.

He scoffs, “Because I look stupid in it, that’s why.”

She lets out a sound of bewilderment, her voice raising in mock outrage. “Oh, be so serious, Javi. Ain’t no goddamn lick of truth anywhere in that statement!” She toes her boots off, settling comfortably on the blanket beside him.

Javier rolls his eyes at her in exaggerated exasperation, playing along. “I am so serious,” he mimics her, though a simper dances on his lips as he starts unpacking the lunch she lovingly prepared.

She takes the hat off her head and, without hesitation, places it on his. The moment she sets it on him, she’s breathless, her pulse quickening at the sight.

He grumbles, rolling his eyes again as he reaches up to take it off. “See? Told you— stupid.”

But she’s quicker, biting her lip and halting his hand mid-motion. “No, wait,” she whispers, her voice suddenly more insistent.

He’s confused at first, his brows furrowing slightly as he watches her climb into his lap, her flowy maxi skirt spreading out around them like a blanket of its own.

“What?” he asks, his voice low, hands instinctively resting on her waist as she settles against him, the proximity having his skin tingling.

Her fingers trace his jaw, her voice dropping to a seductive purr as she leans in close. “Tan guapo,” she murmurs, her lips brushing his chin before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

The heat between them flares instantly. He groans softly when her lips meet his, their kiss deepening quickly. She moans into his mouth, grinding down on his hardening bulge.

Javier feels the tug on his belt just before his balance gives way, body tipping back onto the blanket with a muted thud, his brown hat still perched crookedly on his head.

He lets out a breathless laugh, a grin spreading wide as he gazes up at her, catching that mischievous spark in her eyes. “So eager, bella. Thought this was supposed to be a picnic.”

Paloma’s fingers are already deftly working at the belt, tossing it aside as she bites her lip, her cheeks flushed from excitement and the warm sunlight bathing them both. “Yeah, well…” she shrugs, “Gotta work up an appetite first, don’t we, cowboy?”

He licks his lips, dark brown eyes squinting slightly as the sun casts a soft halo around her, making her glow like some ethereal being.

It’s messy but also seamless, like an unspoken dance as they fumble to halfway undress— her camisole straps sliding down her arms, one breast spilling free as his pants get shoved down just enough to release his cock. She nudges her underwear to the side, wasting no time before sinking down onto him with a moan, welcoming the familiar burning stretch.

Javier groans deeply, one hand on her hip the other palming her breast. Her hands press flat against his broad chest, fingers spreading over the fabric of his shirt as she leans into him.

Her long skirt pools around them, and she takes a moment to find her rhythm, bouncing up and down with increasing urgency. Her hair tumbles over her shoulders, wild and untamed, as she rides him with a hunger that makes his blood boil.

Her nails dig into his shirt, leaving faint crescent-shaped marks as she moves faster, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of them.

Javier’s hat tilts precariously on his head, but neither of them cares. His hold on her hips tightens, guiding her motions as their bodies sync in perfect, chaotic harmony, every gasp, every moan intertwining like a melody between them.

He can barely tear his eyes away from her— the way she throws her head back, her mouth open in ecstasy, her body arching as she loses herself in the moment. She looks like a goddess, every movement driving him closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck me, you’re so fuckin’ hot,” he growls through gritted teeth, his hands moving to grip her ass beneath the skirt, guiding her movements.

His knees bend as he fucks up into her, driving deeper, and she mewls loudly into the warm, open air.

“All you, cowboy,” she slurs, feeling every inch of his cock stretching her and she grips his shoulders, using all her strength to pull him upright.

He follows without hesitation, his body adjusting as they shift into a seated position, her still in his lap. Now, she’s no longer bouncing, but rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, keeping him buried deep inside her.

Every slow grind makes her toes curl.

She catches sight of him beneath that damn hat, getting her soaking wet, even more than she already is. God, he looks sexy, too sexy. The way it sits slightly crooked on his head, the shadow it casts over his smoldering gaze— it’s driving her crazy. 

Their mouths crash together, tongues sliding messily as they kiss with unbridled need, moans escaping between wet, sloppy breaths.

She clings to him like he’s the only thing keeping her in this realm, their bodies pressed so tightly together she can feel every pulse, every twitch. Her hips work him expertly, finding that perfect rhythm that drives them both wild.

It doesn’t take long before they’re unraveling, pleasure building until it crashes entirely.

His hands tighten their grip on her ass and she clenches around him just as he fills her up, both of them gasping each other’s names into their mouths, riding out the peak together. Her body trembles as she takes every spurt, her walls pulsing around him.

When it’s over, they’re a panting, sweaty mess. Javier’s forehead rests between her breasts, and she holds him close, her fingers twisting around the longer curls at the back of his neck, feeling the felt texture of his hat brushing against her damp skin.

Their breathing slows, but neither of them moves just yet.

“Gonna give me a heart attack one of these days riding me like that,” he mutters, his voice muffled against her breasts as he places soft, lazy kisses there. His mouth finds her nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a gentle suck that makes her gasp, her overstimulated body responding instantly. She can’t help but squeeze around his softening cock still nestled inside her, earning a low groan from him.

“Gonna get a heart attack if ya keep smokin’,” she teases, despite the lingering haze of pleasure, and he’s too fucked out to argue with her.

Javi simply chuckles, his breath warm against her skin, and she pushes him back, gently laying him flat against the blanket again.

She presses a soft kiss to his lips before slowly easing off his cock, both of them hissing at the sudden emptiness. Paloma rolls over and grabs her bag, pulling out a baby wipe. She wipes herself down first, then hands him one.

Once they’re cleaned up, the next hour drifts by in peaceful conversation under the shade of the towering tree. They share bites of lunch, talking about anything and everything, letting the simplicity of the moment soak into their bones. 

She lies with her head in his lap and Javier wears the cowboy hat, still at her request, and she can’t help but grin every time she glances up at him.

His hand strokes through her hair, lazily tucking a strand behind her ear as he admires the earrings she has on. They glimmer in the sunlight, but it’s her thoughtful expression that holds his attention.

“Baby,” her voice is soft, almost hesitant.

“¿Qué, nena?” he responds as he continues running his fingers through her hair.

She swallows, her lips twitching slightly before she takes a breath. “I think I’m ready to tell you ‘bout my momma.”

His hand pauses mid-stroke, eyes sharpening as he looks down at her, sensing the weight of what she’s about to share. “Yeah? You sure?”

She nods gently, her gaze shifting to the space around them before she sits up, pushing herself off his lap. He moves too, adjusting to give her more room, knowing she needs the space to speak, to let whatever’s been weighing on her heart finally surface.

Clearing her throat, she fidgets with her skirt, her fingers trembling just enough that he notices. “I just figured… since we’re about to leave… it’s kind of like closure to me, you know?” She pauses, her voice a little shakier now. “I don’t ever really talk about her. But she’s on my mind. A lot.”

He watches her closely, his chest tightening with quiet concern. He doesn’t know what to say just yet, so he remains quiet, letting the silence sit between them in support, giving her the floor to spill whatever is locked in her heart.

“Her name was Abeline— well, Calmana… it’s complicated,” Paloma frowns, her voice already tinged with the weight of the memory. “She killed herself when I was thirteen. Daddy found her with her wrists slit in their bathtub.”

Javier feels the words hit him like a punch to the gut, the sudden heaviness wrapping around his chest. He tries not to let his shock show, but the revelation shakes something inside him.

He noticed the lack of photos of her in the Leighton home, never once asking why. The only picture he ever saw on Romeo’s desk was Paloma’s— the man never spoke of his late wife. 

Now, everything about her and her relationship with him clicks into place with painful clarity.

“She was everything to me,” she continues, her voice growing quieter. “And she left right when I needed her most. Guess I should be thankful I even had her at all. She pushed me to be better, to raise my expectations, never let anythin’ feel like it was too hard…” She trails off, tone cracking at the edges. The vulnerability in her eyes makes Javier’s heart ache. He takes off his hat, setting it aside gently before reaching for her hand, bringing it to his lips with a sweet peck.

“And then she just went and did… that.” Paloma’s words come out broken, disbelieving. “It made no sense. It still doesn’t.” She looks at him then, and he can feel the depth of her grief, the unresolved pain she’s been carrying for so long. He hates seeing her like this, so hurt, but he knows this is a wound far too great for any of his words to balm.

He grips her hand a little tighter, offering her whatever comfort he can.

“It never makes sense,” he murmurs, careful not to overstep but wanting her to know he understands. “Only the person going through it really knows what it’s like… and that can feel very isolating.”

Paloma nods, even as her brow furrows slightly. She understands the logic, textbook reasoning, but it doesn’t bring her any real comfort. “I know, I know. But Javi… there were no signs before that. She was happy, sure, a little paranoid at times, but she was okay.”

Javier’s expression mirrors the sadness etched in her face, “It might’ve seemed that way,” he says gently, “but you never really know—”

“But I did know!” She cuts him off, her voice rising with frustration, with the raw edge of hurt that has lived inside her for years. “She had no reason to be sad. She had my dad, she had me…” Her voice cracks, and she angrily wipes at a tear that escapes down her cheek, pulling her hand from his grasp.

She sits up straighter, her breathing comes quicker, more uneven. Javier can see the edge she’s teetering on.

“Paloma,” he begins softly, his voice steady yet tender. “It’s okay to be angry. It’s okay to feel like it doesn’t make sense.” 

Her shoulders slump a little, her lip trembling. “But it’s not fair,” she whispers, “It’s not fair that she left me…”

Javier reaches for her hand again, this time more slowly, giving her the space to pull away if she needs to.

“Losing her was the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” she admits. “I did everything I could to try and understand it. Read so many books, sat through counseling at the church, but that was a waste of time.” She scoffs, the bitterness of that memory evident. “Can you believe they almost didn’t bury her there? Because of her suicide. It was so fucked up. Only reason they did was through a loophole. Her grave technically isn’t on their grounds. That’s why hers is farther away from the rest.”

The church, something that was supposed to offer comfort, had only added to the pain of her family’s grief.

It just keeps getting more upsetting, “I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you, mi amor,” he whispers and without thinking, he leans over, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to him.

His arm around her feels safe and she leans into him, taking comfort in the strength of his embrace. “That’s when Daddy started gettin’ real mean. Our fights escalated, and it laid the groundwork for what our relationship’s like now.” She pauses, her gaze drifting toward the horizon. “He only talks about her when he’s pissed or hurtin’ or drunk. It’s like her memory only exists when he’s breakin’ down, and that feels like a disrespect to who she was.”

He can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to lose the love of his life like that, and as he gazes down at Paloma, the mere thought of her gone sends this dreadful fright up his spine.

The image of her lifeless in a porcelain tub, haunts him for a moment. He hugs her tighter, as if holding her now could protect her from that kind of pain forever. “Finding her like that must have broken him,” he tells her, though he’s not sure how to reconcile that with the bitterness in Romeo.

“From what I’ve seen, he’s not good at dealing with things.” He understands how hypocritical it sounds coming from him, given his own struggles.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, I know. I understand his side of things, I really do, but I don’t think he understands mine.” Her voice wavers, a quiet sadness lingering in her words as she looks out over the field.

The wildflowers sway gently in the breeze, their soft movement a sharp contrast to the weight of the conversation.

He watches her closely, admiring her quiet resilience. Even as she shares the ugliest parts of her past, there’s still an openness he finds beautiful.

They sit together in a pocket of silence, her gathering her thoughts, while he watches, waiting to follow her lead.

She breathes deeply before continuing, her eyes tracing the ground as if searching for the right way to put it. “It wasn’t ‘till recently that I learned more ‘bout her.”

His brow furrows slightly, sensing the shift in her tone. She pulls away from him just enough so they can sit face-to-face again. “What do you mean?” he asks gently, trying to read her.

“Growing up, she was real cagey whenever I asked about her childhood. What it was like when she was a little girl. At first, I didn’t press, you know? I was just a kid. But the older I got, the more confused I became. I couldn’t ask Daddy, and the questions just sat there, gnawin’ at me.” Her gaze finally lifts to meet his.

“And then one day, I got the answers to them,” she adds. There’s an anxious edge to her words, and he leans forward slightly.

“What were these answers?” he’s curious, tilting his head slightly to encourage her.

“She grew up in an orphanage in Argentina. You were right, on that ride up to Dallas, when you picked out my accent.” He remembers it vividly, blinking a few times in surprise.

“Just dropped her off at the doorstep when she was a baby. No identification, no explanation—nothin’. She didn’t have many friends growing up. Kept to herself mostly. It reminded me of how I was when I was little, scared of the girls on the playground.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, trying to ease the tension just a little. “You’re telling me you weren’t the most popular girl in school?” he teases lightly, offering her a playful smile.

Her lips twitch into small but genuine grin, the tension lifting for a moment. “No,” she admits, shaking her head. “I was apprehensive when it came to makin’ friends.”

She pauses, licking her lips as if trying to decide how to move forward. “Anyway,” she continues, “she grew up wanting to be a nun. I guess it made sense, considering who raised her. They were the only family she ever knew.”

This is Paloma’s truth, her connection to her mother, the piece of her heart she’s been keeping to herself.

“She was invited to Europe to join a special convent— a real selective one. The kind that had members handpicked by the Vatican. Real elusive, you know?”

At this, Javier feels a faint pull in his gut, a strange, uneasy sensation settling there. Something about this revelation sends a ripple through him, but he tries not to let his apprehension show. “Sounds intense,” he says, keeping his tone steady, though his mind races.

When she speaks again, it’s like she’s unveiling the most earth-shattering truth. “Turns out, Javi,” she exhales his name softly, “my mom, Calmana, was a direct descendant of Cain and Abel. And I don’t mean in a metaphorical sense. I mean literally— part of her family tree”

He stares at her, biting his tongue to keep his thoughts in check. His gut reaction is skepticism, but he masks it, choosing neutrality. “That’s... a lot,” he says slowly, his voice even, hoping it won’t give him away.

But she doesn’t catch the undercurrent of doubt in his words. She’s too wrapped up in the whirlwind of her story.

“They believed she was meant to bring peace to the world,” she continues, her eyes wide with conviction. “No more wars, no more famine, no more suffering. But before anything could happen, the convent was defunded and disbanded. That’s when she moved to the States, met Daddy, fell in love, and had me.”

Javier’s stomach churns. The story sounds eerily similar to the case they just closed. The killer, the strange ties to Rome, the impossible connections.

There’s no way this could all be related... could it? They caught their guy. The evidence was there. But the motive?

He clears his throat, trying to steady himself. “Paloma, how do you know all of this?” His question comes out sharper than intended, and he immediately regrets the tone when he sees her stiffen.

“I found some things,” she lies, her voice defensive. “Hidden away in her stuff. In the extra bedroom.” She’s careful to keep August’s name out of it, knowing it would lead to a different type of confrontation that, frankly, she’s not prepared for.

“And you... you believe it?” His voice is quieter now, searching her face for any cracks in the story. But she lets out a scoff, her eyes flashing with offense.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

He presses his lips into a thin line, feeling the conversation slipping out of control. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to choose his next words carefully. “I’m not tryin’ to discredit you, or her, but—”

“But what, Javi?” Her voice sharpens, her heart pounding in her ears. The way he’s looking at her, the disbelief in his eyes— it’s like she can already see where he’s headed, and she hates it.

He winces, knowing there’s no easy way to say what he’s thinking. “She was sketchy about her past, and then she died the way she did. Is it possible that maybe... maybe it’s not all true?”

His words hang heavy in the air, and he immediately regrets them, especially when he sees the way her expression darkens, eyes narrowing like she’s about to rip him apart.

“You think that she just made it up?”

He sighs, trying to stay calm, though he knows he’s already in deep. But the words tumble out anyway, against his better judgment.

“Maybe it was something to help her cope with whatever she was dealing with when she was younger. Something that eventually caught up with her...” His voice trails off, and he flinches at his own clumsy attempt to make sense of it. 

And drove her to suicide? Yeah, great job at fucking listening to her, Javier.

Paloma’s laugh rings out, sounding every bit like her father. “You think this is bullshit,” she accuses, her eyes hard.

Javier feels the sting of her laugh. “I didn’t say that.” His voice is low, but he watches as she stands abruptly, brushing herself off with irritation.

He mutters a curse under his breath and rises with her, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“You didn’t have to.” Paloma’s movements are quick and precise, yanking on her boots as she avoids looking at him. “I’m real good at readin’ between the lines.”

“Baby, no—” Javier steps forward, trying to stop her, his hands reaching out in a plea. “Just listen—”

“I gotta get to work, Javi.” Her tone is cold, firm, and it shuts him down before he can say more. “We’ll talk about this when I get home tonight.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, soft but commanding. The tone halts her in her tracks, and she recognizes his frustration.

It’s the same as she felt when her father had pulled this kind of shutdown on her.

Her arms cross over her chest, and the disappointment in her eyes has him regretting running his fucking mouth.

“Your pragmatism wasn’t what I was expectin’ when I opened up to you about something so personal.”

“You’re right,” he admits. “I’m sorry. It’s just that... it sounded so much like some of the stuff from the case, and I couldn’t help but think about it like that.” He can see her stiffen, her glare piercing right through him. “But that doesn’t matter, querida. I know how personal this is for you, and I don’t want to undermine it.”

She nods slightly, appreciating his apology, but her mood has already been soured.

She needs space, wanting to escape to the library, where at least the silence won’t push back. “I just... I need to be alone.” She looks at him, but her eyes are somewhere else. “Or as alone as I can be. Promise we’ll talk about it later, okay?” Her lips brush his cheek in a quick, almost mechanical peck.

Javier stands there, watching her go, knowing full well he just made a mess of things. “Paloma—” he tries again, but her silence stops him cold. There’s nothing more to say. Not now.

She throws a look over her shoulder, wordlessly telling him to clean up their picnic, and he’s left in the clearing with his hands on his hips.

The urge to light a cigarette gnaws at him, but he fights it off. He’s already fucked up twice today— he doesn’t need to make it worse.

Paloma rolls her shoulders back, trying to shake off the weight of the day. She’s down to her last few closing tasks, moving through the motions, though her mind is miles away.

The shift at the library had been fine— routine, even— as she’s been trying to enjoy the last few that she has before she leaves.

However, her thoughts kept circling back to the spat with Javier earlier. It needles at her the way his skepticism had stung.

She just wants to go home, to fix things, to talk it out. 

Finally, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she locks up and steps out into the night. Her car is parked across the street since the library’s lot is being repaved— long overdue, the cracks and uneven pavement have made even walking through it a hazard.

The streetlights do little to cut through the shadows of the darker lot, and she glances around, her nerves a little more on edge than usual.

She rifles through her bag as she walks, fingers brushing past lip balm and receipts before finally finding her keys. She fumbles with them in the dim light, the metal cold beneath her fingertips, and just as she’s about to unlock the car door— clang— they slip from her grasp, clattering onto the asphalt.

“Shit,” she curses, bending down quickly to pick them up. But when she stands again, her breath catches in her throat.

Leaning casually against the hood of her car is August, a joint lazily hanging from his lips, the tip glowing red in the darkness.

“August,” she clutches at her chest, trying to calm her racing heart from the scare he’s just given her.

His name feels foreign on her tongue, like something she’s meant to leave behind.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says smoothly, his thick accent curling around each word like smoke. He pushes off the hood, moving with a lazy confidence that makes her stomach turn as he rounds the car to stand at the driver’s side, too close for her comfort.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice trembles, though she works hard to keep it steady. She’s gripping her keys tightly now, her fingers digging into the metal grooves.

“Heard you were leavin’,” he replies, taking another drag of his joint. His eyes gleam with something predatory.

Gabriel must’ve told him, that rat, but she isn’t surprised.

“Yeah. Next week.” She nods curtly, hoping her clipped tone will get her out of this uncomfortable encounter.

“A shame to see you go, little dove,” August says, his gaze sweeping over her with unsettling familiarity, lingering on her chest and hips. It makes her skin crawl, and she shifts uncomfortably beneath his leer.

“It’s late. I really need to get home.” She tries to sidestep him, but his presence is a blockade.

He chuckles, the sound low and arrogant. “So icy, P. Thought we left off on good terms?”

He steps toward her, closing the space between them, and she instinctively takes a step back.

His grin widens, amusement flickering across his face like he’s enjoying this little game. “Why you steppin’ back? I just wanna talk.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, something in his tone setting off alarm bells. She takes another step, desperate to put more distance between them— only to collide with something soft and warm behind her.

“I think she’s scared,” a familiar voice purrs into her ear, and Paloma yelps, spinning around only to face Sloane, her countenance twisted into a smirk. 

She glances between them, feeling trapped.

“What do you want?” Her voice trembles despite her best efforts. Their eyes are watching, calculating.

“For you to come back with us.” August’s voice is casual, as if he’s proposing something harmless, and it takes every ounce of restraint she has not to scoff in his face.

Instead, she lets out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“I thought I told you I had no interest in that anymore.”

“Yeah, well, that’s on me for makin’ you feel like you had a choice.” He flicks the filter of his joint to the ground, the ember dying as it rolls away.

With a simple jut of his chin, three more figures emerge from the shadows, closing in like predators. Paloma’s throat tightens as the weight of her situation hits her full force— she’s outnumbered.

Her fingers curl tighter around the keys in her hand. Her mind races, trying to gauge if she could make a break for it— grab one of the weapons stashed inside her car and either fight her way out or get the hell out of here.

“Don’t be stupid, August,” she warns, “You try anythin’ ‘n we both know s��only goin’ to end bad for you.”

He barks out a laugh, shaking his head like she’s just told the funniest joke. “Oh yeah? And who’s gonna stop me? You? That pissy old daddy of yours?” His eyes gleam maliciously. “Or maybe your incompetent, narc boyfriend?”

The mention of Javier makes her jaw clench, her teeth grinding together as anger flares hot inside her. But before she can snap back, Sloane’s voice cuts through, dripping with venom.

“Don’t worry,” she coos, a smug smile playing on her lips as she tilts her head condescendingly, “I’ll make sure to stop by and check on him when he finds out you’re gone. He still likes his women on top, right?”

Before she knows what she’s doing, Paloma lunges at her, fury propelling her forward. But her body slams to a halt, restrained by the large, rough hands of one of August’s men.

Her keys and bag tumble to the ground as she struggles against his iron grip, twisting and kicking, but he’s too strong.

“Let go of me!” she shouts, thrashing in his hold, her boots scraping against the pavement in a futile attempt to break free. The man’s grip only tightens, his fingers digging painfully into her arms, and her chest heaves with frustration and fear.

August steps closer, his face inches from hers, and he wraps his hand around her throat, holding her steady as he leans in. His breath is warm and sickeningly close.

“Can’t do that, little dove,” he murmurs, blue eyes darkened with intent. “Been lettin’ you do as you please for too damn long. S’about time we finally get this over and done with.” His thumb presses lightly against her pulse, and she glares up at him with every ounce of hatred she can muster.

“You dunno know how long I’ve waited for this,” he says softly, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “To finally have you the way you’re meant to be had.”

Her stomach churns, revulsion boiling in her veins. She narrows her eyes, her breath ragged as she gathers every bit of defiance left in her.

Without a second thought, she spits in his face, her saliva hitting him squarely on the cheek. “Fuck you.”

For a second, he stills, disbelief flashing across his face. Slowly, he wipes the spit from his cheek with the back of his hand, his expression darkening.

Then, without warning, his hand swings back, and the sharp crack of his palm colliding with her face echoes through the lot.

Pain explodes across her cheek, and she whimpers involuntarily, her knees buckling beneath her. But the man restraining her keeps her upright, his grip never loosening.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Paloma,” August says coldly, shaking his hand out like the slap had been nothing more than a casual inconvenience. “I don’t like doin’ it.” He turns away from her, his voice indifferent as he gives instructions to the others.

Her breaths come in ragged gasps, the sting of the slap still burning across her face. But adrenaline courses through her now, sharpening her mind.

She needs to act, and fast. She lifts her boot and slams it down hard onto the foot of the man holding her, grinding the heel into the soft flesh. It’s enough for him to loosen his grip and let her go.

Without a second thought, she bolts, heart pounding like a war drum as she sprints away.

Hope flickers in her chest like a fragile flame, but it’s snuffed out just as quickly when she feels a sharp tug on her hair.

“Damn it!” she gasps, the rough pull yanking her off balance. But her father’s voice echoes in her mind, reminding her of the self-defense moves he drilled into her.

Thinking quickly, she drops into a squat, lowering her center of gravity and using the momentum to twist violently. She feels the man’s grip falter as she moves, and then—crack!—the sickening sound of bone breaking reverberates in the air, followed by a pained cry.

She can barely believe the move worked, running as the world blurs past her in a rush of shadows and moonlight. 

The sheriff’s department isn’t far, just down the street— if she can make it there, she’ll be safe. She darts down a narrow alleyway, the walls closing in around her, and for a brief moment, she thinks she might make it.

She can hear them shouting behind her, the thud of footsteps chasing after her, but she keeps running. 

But then, pain— sharp and blinding— slams into her temple. She crumples to the ground, her body suddenly too heavy to move.

Through the haze, she sees Sloane standing over her, a baseball bat in her hand, the exact one Paloma keeps in the trunk of her car.

“I got her!” Sloane shouts, her voice triumphant.

She tries to crawl, her hands weakly clawing at the pavement. Blood trickles down the side of her face, warm and sticky, and her vision swims as dizziness overtakes her. She feels the bottom of the girl’s shoe press down on her back, keeping her from moving.

“Fuckin’ hell, Slo,” August’s voice sounds distant, like it’s coming from underwater. “Did you have to wack her in the face? Always doin’ too much— just like that girl at the barbecue.”

Paloma hears the words, the memory of that poor girl flashing in her mind. Sloane had dragged her into the woods, and now… now she’s about to meet the same fate. Her heart aches with the thought of what this will do to Javier, to her father. How this will destroy them.

“The bitch shouldn’t have tried to run off.”

They bind her wrists and ankles with thick rope, her body limp as they drag her back to the lot.

She’s thrown into the bed of a truck, her mind slipping in and out of consciousness, her thoughts spiraling back to the people she loves.

Javier’s face swims in her mind, and she clings to it, even as darkness begins to swallow her whole.

“Sadie, you know what you have to do. Dump her car in the lake. Go down with it. Remember that you’re doing this for a good cause— for her. Don’t be scared. You’re brave; you can do this.” August’s voice cuts through the haze of her consciousness, a distant echo tainted with a chilling calmness.

The young girl, Sadie, shifts nervously, her hands trembling as she takes in the weight of the task assigned to her. 

The corners of the truck bed feel as if they’re closing in around her like a suffocating shroud.

Time seems to slow, every second stretching into an eternity as she fights to stay conscious.

After a moment of nervous hesitation, Sadie nods, her resolve crumbling.

Her pulse quickens as she feels August’s weight shift beside her.

He hops into the bed of the truck, looming over her frame, and she shrinks back, every instinct screaming at her to fight, to flee. But she’s too weak, her body betraying her with each shaky breath.

“Don’t worry, little dove. Soon enough, this will be nothing but a hiccup, insignificant as you cradle the entire world in your hands.” His words slither into her mind, tainted with a sickening promise.

He leans in closer, and she catches a whiff of his cologne mixed with something rotten. Her stomach churns, and she fights against the gag reflex rising within her as he presses a dirty rag against her mouth, muffling her cries.

The truck’s engine roars to life and begins to move. Tears spill from her eyes, hot and unrelenting, tracing paths down her cheeks.

She glances up at her captor, who is grinning down at her as he wipes away the blood and tears on her face, the moon looking menacing in the night sky behind him.

spoiler tags: slapping, kidnapping, depictions of violence. just a heads up, we are venturing into the more darker content era of this fic. i'll be tagging future chapters accordingly!

[httpjungkookcom]

Wobbly Legs | JJK (m)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 7K-ish

Genre | Idol! Jungkook x "Man Eater”! Reader, Established Relationship Now (Excitinggg!!!)

Summary | Jungkook's never shy when asking you to try new things because he knows you'll never judge him, never laugh at him. (With malicious intent anyways.) That doesn't mean he's not nervous, hiding and ducking his head the entire time with a giant blush spread across his face while he's asking. With a bit of coaxing, Jungkook finally spits it out. Unknowingly, he's more in for it than he even realizes.

Index | pegging!!!, sexual content, dirty talking, Jungkook still gets praised a lot, fingering (male and female receiving), oral (male receiving), sub! Jk, bottom! jk, overstimulation, hair pulling, jungkook is still shy and flustered around the reader, jungkook in love like never before, makes sure his sweet gf cums like a good little bf, my personal bias for Jungkook’s nose (sue me lol), Reader is feral by the end of this lmao

A/N | Based off of my previous post, Man Eater Hunting. It's a long one, so I'll give you the general gist of it. Jungkook has a fat crush on the reader who happens to be Namjoon’s best friend, the reader thinks he just wants in her pants so she teases him for a while, pinning after each other for 40k words, and eventually proclaim their undying love for one another. In a secure, happy relationship by the end :) (A lot of fucking in between.) If you’d like to read it, it’s still pinned on my blog I believe. 

Ever since the both of you’ve gone public with your relationship, Jungkook has been happier than ever. He gets to hold your hand in public, kiss your forehead, hug your waist, and do everything else under the sun without the worry of your lecturing. Your identity is still private, and most media respect it enough to at least not post an unblurred photo of your face. There are still plenty of photos of the both of you unblurred, but you try hard to look on the bright side. While being public means stress and worry for you in terms of media and cameras, seeing Kook be so happy makes the familiar warm feeling when you’re with him spread throughout your chest. The members are also all very supportive, their youngest visibly cheerier even on days he’s tired, worn down, or even lost a Mario Cart round against Taehyung. 

You, Namjoon, and Yoongi still have your little group inside the larger group, one that Jungkook’s been trying to invade for the last 3 months. Yoongi constantly kicks him out of your studio, producing party, whatever you wanna call them, nights, claiming it’s a “no boyfriends allowed,” party. Jungkook then gets your favorite food or drink and pouts outside the studio door until you’re all done. Tae and Jimin still take stabs at you and Kook every so often, just enough to start a playful banter but never enough to actually hurt your feelings anymore. Jin has always been supportive and still is if not more. And Hope still takes jabs when he can, more so at Jungkook just to get him going than you. And lastly, Jungkook’s still Jungkook, just as needy as the night you’d met at Joon’s party. 

Date night today, mine or your place? 

Jungkook’s notification flashes across your screen, phone resting on the kitchen island as you cook dinner. A giant smile spreads across your face before you can even think to stop it, rushing to text him back. You type back with your pinky, other fingers too dirty from the ingredients. 

Mine, I’m cooking already :) 

Be there in 15.

He’s over in 10 minutes max, softly knocking on your front door. You open it with your elbows, hands held away from anything that doesn’t need seasoning smeared against it. Quickly, you dodge the embrace that you know happens when Jungkook steps into your apartment, hurriedly running off back to the kitchen. “I don’t wanna get your nice shirt all dirty,” You justify your retreat before he even has a chance to ask, you already know it's coming from the soft exhale you just barely caught while running for security.  

“That doesn’t mean run away from meeee,” Kook whines back, following your warpath to the kitchen as he wraps his arms around your frame. He’s careful to keep his fingers away from any hot surfaces, taking the opportunity to place his palms on your chest without lecture. Besides that, he’s gone to the world as his face buries itself into your shoulder. “How’s your new job going?” He mumbles against your skin, causing goosebumps to shoot down your spine. Feeling the smirk from him on your skin, the little shit knows exactly what he’s doing. ”My little lead director of communications.” 

(Namjoon swears he didn’t put in a good word for you at his company regarding the application, but you’re almost 99% positive he did. You reassure yourself that you deserve to be there by saying the interview went well at least.)

“Everyone’s so nice, you know?” You begin, trying to fight off the laugh that threatens to overflow. “My new nickname is The girl Jeon Jungkook picks up after work, in the office. And sometimes it’s, Doesn’t he have a girlfriend? Is he having an affair?!!” You joke dryly, looking over your shoulder at him. “Because there’s no way we could everrr be in a relationship in this universe.” You chuckle.

At this, Jungkook tries hard not to laugh at your dismay. He doesn’t try very hard, eventually cracking up. “Hey, what can I say? I’m popular.” He cracks, earning him a soft elbow in the ribs that quickly makes him retreat away from you. “Sorry! Sorry! Do you want me to talk to them, and tell them it’s not cool? Or have a staff meeting about bullying and gossip?” 

Jungkook is lucky he’s so pretty, you think. This only makes your dismay worse, corners fighting hard to not tug up in a smile at how ridiculous he sounds. “That would make it worse, mom.” You finally crack into a smile, “If you were to go in there and tell them off like I’m 5 years old, I’d put in my two weeks immediately.” You laugh, putting the food onto plates before heading into the living room. This part of your and Jungkook’s routine is almost solid without how many date night-ins you’ve had in recent months. Kook goes for the drinks and utensils before joining you on the couch, clicking on the television. 

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his brain. “Or, I can send a strongly worded email.” He adds, sitting down before pulling your legs over his lap. “No, no. I leave a voicemail. that’ll really get ‘em.” 

“Koookkk.” Groaning, you can’t help but begin to laugh by the end of it. “I think, and hear me out, don’t get going just yet.” Your hands are held out in front of you. “Maybe, you don’t have to pick me up at my office every day when we leave the building. Maybe we can just meet in the garage or something. That way it’ll slowly die out of the conversation.” Jungkook’s almost offended by your words, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if you’d shot him. 

“That's the best part of my day, not happening.” Jungkook gives one hard shake of his head, a definitive no before he resumes eating. 

“The best part of your day can be me walking to you in the parking garage instead.” You shoot, watching as Jungkook pretends to think hard about it. The final verdict is another hard shake of his head, signaling no. “Ugh, fine how about the cafeteria?” Another no. “Breakroom?” Another no. “Common areas?” Another no. “Jungkookkkk, work with me,” You complain, pointing at him threateningly with your chopsticks as you drive your foot into his abdomen. 

“I like picking you up at your office.” He shrugs as he sets his food aside, going to grab your foot in his hold. The last time this happened, jungkook tickled you half to death, eventually earning him a hard kick to the temple. (You felt horrible, and he couldn’t shoot content for a week.) Immediately, you make your foot retreat in fear of his safety. He completely ignores the next train of complaints from you. In retaliation, you crumple up a napkin and bounce it off of his head, which he still doesn’t acknowledge. 

“I can’t be called The girl Jungkook picks up, at my job. I really can’t Kook.” 

With an exaggerated sigh, Jungkook finally gives in. “Fine, we can meet at the cafeteria.” He almost whines, pinching your calf lightly to display his grievances. After your mini celebration that Jungkook mopes throughout, the both of you get comfortable with just eating and watching the show as it fills the silence. Jungkook’s finished eating much faster than you are, waiting impatiently for you to be done. As soon as your plate hits the coffee table, he’s pulling you closer. “I miss you.” He starts, laying back and dragging you along with him.

“You see me every day.” You genuinely laugh, cuddling close to him as you continue to watch the show, cheek squished on his chest. 

“It’s just not the same.” He's never satisfied. “When you’re working you’re all dressed up, and put together, and have your little bag filled with papers and fuck knows what else.” You chuckle softly, glancing up at him. “I miss just hanging out, watching tv, wearing pajamas, and you making fun of my toe socks which are very comfortable, FYI.  We’ve been so busy recently.” At that, he holds you just the smallest bit closer. Your arms wrap around him in return, hands pancaked in between his back and the couch cushions. Glancing up, Jungkook’s soft gaze meets yours, a small smile spreading across his face. You return the smile, reaching up to hold his cheeks in your palms. 

“First of all, the socks are atrocious. I only put up with them because it’s you.” You laugh loudly. 

“Awwwww.”

“Secondly, you remind me of your younger self, Kook. It’s like I can still see him in you.” You smile hard, rubbing along the bridge of his nose with your pinky. If you were anyone else, Jungkook would tell you off for pointing out his nose, maybe even cuss a bit. But it's you, and he knows how much you rave about how cute you think it is, so he lets you slide your finger across. “So loving, so sweet Jungkook.” You can’t help but grin, moving to softly pink his cheeks in between your thumbs and index fingers. His teeth show slightly from the stretch, making you beam back at him. “My sweet boy.” You coo, finally releasing him as you lay back on his chest. Jungkook holds you even closer after that. 

Jungkook’s fingers absentmindedly scratch along your back, every now and then rubbing the goosebumps that sprout up in their wake. You’re more focused on the movie than anything, brows furrowed together slightly as you listen closely to the dialogue to not miss a single detail. Jungkook, on the other hand, is the complete opposite. It’s already been an hour, you’re paying little to no attention to him and he’s growing impatient. The innocent scratches turn into heavy petting, eyes glued only to your frame, as his hips constantly readjust in their own accord. Trying to be subtle, Jungkook does his best to slowly hike your top up to get his hands on your bare skin. You’re more than aware of it, purposely ignoring him as you’re dead set on finishing up the stupid murder mystery, clue reminiscent, movie where you have to find out who the killer is. “Kook, go rub one out or something. I have 30 minutes left.” You complain, swatting away his hands as they begin to trail further underneath your shirt. 

“No, it’s not the same.” He immediately whines, curling up more to you, face burying itself in your neck as he sits up slightly. You can feel the soft kissing, leaving light marks on your skin that he soothes with his tongue. “Do you remember when we were in my studio for the first time?” Jungkook almost shutters as he lays under you. So much for movie night and cuddles. “And you hit my prostate? I wanna do that again-“ He whines, burying his face in your chest in embarrassment. Your attention is finally diverted from the movie now, glancing down at him. You can only see the tips of his ears, burning a bright red that you can only guess is also spread across his cheeks. “But more.” He adds. 

“You want me to fuck you? Is that what you’re saying?” Your voice drops, Jungkook immediately perking up at the tone with a small smile. “My boy, you want just my fingers, or you wanna be fucked?” Your hands come up to gently hold his head in them, fingers rubbing along his cheeks. Jungkook naturally leans into your touch, smiling softly as he deliberates. 

“I want you to fuck me.” Jungkook finally states, nodding to solidify his statement. His words are booming in your otherwise quiet apartment. 

“Oh shit.” You chuckle, his tone catching you slightly by surprise. At the small laugh, Jungkook’s face falls. “No, no I just laughed because it was so blunt and loud. Not at you, Kook.” You're quick to reassure, leaning forward to place a kiss on his forehead. “I think I may have a strap-on from-“ 

“You have a strapon?!?!” Jungkook interrupts you, shock and jealousy coursing through his voice, making you laugh. 

“Listen! It was a gag gift from my friends in college, it’s not even used.” You roll your eyes, watching as he calms down. “You never let me finish my sentences.” You laugh, sitting up on his lap. He’s quick to follow, lurching into a seated position to meet you. “When bun?” His brow immediately creases. 

“Today? Maybe?” The smirk that grows on your face is cheek aching, hands holding his face in your palms. Your thumbs gently brush his cheekbones, making him instantly melt in your hold. 

“You’re cute, Kook.” You grin hard, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his nose. “Of course, I’ll fuck you bun. Happily. C'mon, to the bedroom.” You lightly slap his shoulders, encouraging him up. In a flurry, he’s hoisting the both of you from the couch in a millisecond, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. (He’s almost running into the bedroom, your legs wrapped tightly around him.) Jungkook wastes no time, allowing himself to fall backward onto the bed. 

You land with a huff, Jungkook quickly situating you on his lap. “Alright, alright, I’m ready.” He smiles hard, ripping a laugh from your throat. “Do your worst.” It’s comfortable, the way your bodies easily fit together with one another, lips slotting together. You can taste the strawberry chapstick he wears so often, and smell the subtle citrus perfume that he always puts on when it starts to wear off. As always, Jungkook is easy to rile up. Slow kisses, pulling on his hair, slipping your hand underneath his shirt, and he’s already in over his head. 

“You’re too easy, Kook.” You smile up at him softly, biting the soft skin on his neck as a dark mark begins to show. “I really hope you’re not always like this, with all your other girlfriends.” You tease him, knowing just how much he hates it. (He really does hate it, how could he want anyone else when he has you?)

“Y/nnnnn,” He complains, hands squeezing your thighs on either side of his waist hard, leaving small bruises in their wake. “You know I’m only this easy for you, always only you.” 

“Hmmm, I don't know. Mr big league, international idol.” You continue to press all of his buttons, fighting back the smile as you look for the expression you already know he’s wearing. It finally makes you crack, cheeks hurting from how hard the smile is. Your hands slip underneath his ridiculously sized T-shirt, cold hands leaving goosebumps in their path as he involuntarily flinches away from them. You bunch it in your hands, peeling it off and over his head. “What was that one show you had recently, all sold out? How man fans did you-”

“You know that’s inaccurate,” Jungkook states immediately, dead serious which makes you laugh out loud. 

“Alright, alright. Just getting you all bothered, bun,” The whine Jungkook lets out as you jokingly flick a nipple makes you ache, snapping you back into the reality of what the two of you are actually doing. “Fuck, bun. You gonna let me play with your pretty tits, hmm?” His fluffy hair bounces from how aggressively he shakes his head. You groan back, experimentally taking a nipple in between your teeth, harshly running your tongue over it.

“Feels good, feels good.” Kook whines, hips involuntarily grinding up against you. A small yelp unconsciously falls from him as you bite, one of his hands coming up to press firmly along your shoulder. “Biting? You just bit me!” He whines loudly, rubbing his chest. It makes you laugh.

“You bite me all the time without realizing it.” You counter, softly pulling his hand away by his wrist. Your tongue meets his chest once more, soothing over the mark before harshly licking, sucking, and biting once more. “You’re also always so rough with me, bun. Are you gonna let me be rough with you?”

“If you ever get there, sure. Seems like you’re stalling, you scared beautiful?” It’s taunting, finally his turn to push your buttons as he smirks down on you. 

“We’ve gotta get you prepped Kook, otherwise you’ll be no fun to play with.” Once again, another tease meant to rile him up. Jungkoko groans just from your words, hands pulling your hips closer. Before he has a chance to counter, you’re moving down to meet his waistband, tugging on the sweatpants. Your thumbs hook underneath, catching both his underwear and tugging them off in one easy swoop. He’s rock hard, his cock hitting his lower stomach. “Can you reach over and grab the lube?” The bedside table is being slung open in two seconds flat, everything slapping against the front. Jungkook avoids the look you give him. 

“Shut up, I don't wanna hear it.” He chuckles, handing it over after fishing around for it. “So how do you? How do we uh? Fit it in.”

Your heartbeat catches for a moment, glancing up and catching the slight nerves on his face before they disappear. “Kook.” You smile gently, a fond feeling in your chest. “We start slowly, Kook. We definitely don’t have to rush and if you want to stop we can always have a raincheck.” Jungkook listens intently, eyes wide as he takes everything in. Slowly. he nods as you finish up your speech. “So, we start slow.” You give him one last reassuring smile before you take the lube from him, being extremely generous as you apply it to your fingers. 

His hips jerk into your hold as you take his aching cock with a soft fist, nerves making him jumpy. “Bun, relax. You know I’ll take care of you.” You coo to Jungkook, a blush flushing across his entire face. 

“I know, I know you always do.” Jungkook nods, coaxing himself to relax as he lays down rather than resting on his elbows. You see part of his face, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on your touch. His breath sucks in as the cold lube meets his skin, legs tensing around your body where you sit between them. 

“You have to relax, Kook.” You reiterate once more, sliding down slightly as your lips brush against his head. “You’ve been here before, bun.” You giggle, taking his head in your mouth as you focus on distracting him. He’s distracted easily, one hand reaching down to run his fingers through your hair, gently pulling at the strands. You allow him, sinking down slowly as you gauge his reaction. 

“Feels good.” You can vaguely hear him whine, head pushed back into your pillow as he tries his hardest to focus on your mouth. As his legs relax around your body, losing himself in the pleasure, you easily slip your middle finger into his ass. “Fuck me!” He whimpers, clamping down around your finger. 

“You’re okay, bun. You’re okay.” You reassure, glancing up to catch his expression. After he relaxes a bit, you sink onto his cock once more, not yet moving your finger. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze burning into your skin, watching intently as your nose brushes his abdomen. Experimentally, your finger draws out before easily sliding back in, pulling the smallest whine from the very back of his throat. Sinking back down onto his cock, you fight the gag off as he grinds into you, finally allowing the pleasure to wash over him again. 

“Fuck! Is this what it feels like?” Jungkook whines loudly as you slip another finger in, gently pressing against his prostate as his hips readjust on their own.

“Feels like when what?” You draw before sinking back down onto him, your tongue harshly against rubbing the underside of his cock. 

“When we fuck, when I’m in you.” It’s whiny and slightly breathless as he bites back his moans. Jungkook flushes a bright red across his chest and face, breath uneven as his chest rises and falls with heaves. 

“Not at all, you’re way bigger than my fingers, bun.” It’s a boost in his confidence, immediately vanishing as one of your hands meets the back of his thighs. “Up Kook, just a bit so I can work you open,” He whines, so deep and guttural that you almost want to whine back. You're at three fingers when you actually start, beginning to fuck into him with your fingers, curling them to hit his prostate. His poor cock sits untouched on his abdomen, softly dripping precum onto his stomach from your touch. 

Jungkook knows he’s in for it as you shuffle around in between him, climbing to your knees as his legs rest around your waist. It’s a change in your recent dynamic for sure, but he can't help the way his cock throbs the whines that slip past his bright red, bitten lips. Your free hand runs along his thigh, pulling it up slightly more as you push his hips into the mattress, fingers working him open and closer to his end. 

“Kook?” You call softly, earning you a small hum in return. “You gonna be good for me, cum from my fingers?” Truthfully, he doesn’t know if he can but he trusts you enough to take him there. He nods quickly, bangs falling into his face. You pull another whimper just from changing your position, leaning over him slightly to watch all of his expressions. Taking his cock into one hand to push him closer, the other fucking him open, your body pressing him into the mattress, his mind just melts. His body feels hotter than humanly possible, mind reeling from all the sensations at once. 

“Good boy Kook, my good boy.” Cooing, your lips meet his jaw as you gently kiss his hot skin. 

“Close, really close.” Jungkook doesn’t quite understand the feeling that grows in his abdomen, only that it’s continuing to build as your fingers press harshly into him. He barely registers the feeling of your hand leaving his aching cock, mind too preoccupied with the incoming orgasm. “Coming.” His entire body shakes, hands searching for any sort of contact as they wrap around your body, pulling you closer to him. Jungkook’s sure he’s never experienced something like this before, sure he’s never come this hard in his entire life. 

“Easy, Kook. It’s okay.” You help him through it, milking it for the most pleasure you can give him. Slowly easing your ministrations to a stop, you plant kisses around his face. Jungkook cums harder than you’ve ever seen, thighs still shaking against your body as he rides it out. “You okay?” He looks like he’s just run a marathon, chest heaving as he comes back. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kook huffs, flushed bright red underneath you. 

“I’ll be right back? Okay?” He nods, allowing you to slip from his legs and instead begin to rummage through your bedside dresser. His eyes burn into your skin as you finally find it, the overly realistic strap-on held in place by a leather harness. “You still sure about this, bun?” You have to fight to untangle it, embarrassment following across your cheeks as you work on putting it on over your lace panties. Jungkook doesn’t even register your struggle as he watches. 

“Yeah, yes. Please, Y/n.” Jungkook whimpers, cock throbbing as it slaps against his stomach. Nervousness sets in as you resume your spot in between his legs, hands rubbing along his thighs as they tense beneath your touch. “You’ll be gentle, right? Please?” He whimpers, taking one of your hands in his own. 

“I’ll be as gentle as you are with me.” You giggle, slowly pushing his thighs back up to press his hips into the mattress. “Kidding, of course, I’ll be gentle, Kook,” You reassure, finally dropping the small nag as you once again fish for the lube. Jungkook fights the whimper that threatens to fall past his lips as he watches you lube yourself up, eyebrows scrunched together. “Ready bun?” 

His lips are caught between his teeth as he nods, one of his hands meeting your own that holds his knee back. Leaning forward, you offer a quick kiss before starting. It’s slow, his chest heaving as you slowly allow the head to slip inside. 

“You’re okay, bun.” You hum, redirecting a free hand to slowly jerk his cock. Sliding in slightly further, a loud moan slips past his lips as you brush along his prostate, cock throbbing in your hold. You have to talk him through it, sliding in inch by inch and allowing him to readjust each time. Rocking your hips slightly, Jungkook slowly takes the last inch before you’re fully inside, the base of the strapon grinding slightly against his skin. “You alright bun?” You coo, gently pulling an arm away from his flushed face. 

Jungkook’s eyes are slightly watery, lips shining and bright red from how much he’s bitten down on them. Allowing him to adjust, you lean down to kiss him, lips sliding against one another as you grind against him. With a small nod from Jungkook, he encourages you back up. 

“You’re so deep.” He whimpers as a response, clenching and unclenching around you. If only you could feel it, you’re sure you’d go insane. Seeing him so fucked out, pinned underneath your hold, whimpering and crying as he takes it., and being able to feel it? You’re bordering insane already. “Move, please.” Jungkook whines, so genuine that it causes you to clench around nothing. 

“So good for me, Kook.” You praise, sliding out and easily pushing in in one swift thrust. The sound it makes is absolutely lewd, adding to your insanity. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” 

“So whiny, crying and I’ve barely started bun. Barely even moving right now.” You tease, watching as his cock bounces with each taunt. You can’t help but grind against him, feeling the faint warmth of his skin on your lower stomach. 

“Yeah? Thought you wanted to be rough with me?” Jungkook knows what he’s doing, knows how much he’s essentially fucking himself over with his words, but he doesn’t care. He’s in trouble as you hike his thighs up with ease, pinning him to the bed how he pins you constantly. Vulnerability spreads throughout his entire body, open wide in front of you before you’re following, thighs pressed against the curves of his ass. 

“Bun, be careful with your words.” You tease, giving him one hard snap of your hips to prove your point. It gets it across easily, forcing a moan past his lips which you swallow in a sloppy kiss. Jungkook’s burning up from the inside out, watching as your chest bounces each time you rock your hips into him, feeling the warmth of your skin each time you bottom out. His legs are hiked up higher than he’s ever been, knees almost touching the bed beside his torso as you fold him in half. “You alright, bun?” You ask, not paying much attention as your mind is focused on wedging your hands in the folds of his knees better. 

“Yeah, yeah. I just didn’t know this would feel so intense?” He mumbles, hands reaching around his legs to hold your forearms in his palms. Moans fill your bedroom, Jungkook unable to hold back a single one. “Vulnerable? Feel this good? I don’t know which term I’m looking for.” 

“Vulnerable? You feel vulnerable Kook? Do you want me to slow down-”

“No! No, I don’t feel vulnerable with you.” Jungkook wears a soft smile across his face, quickly broken as you rock harder into him. “The position is just…compromising I suppose.”

You can’t help but giggle at him. “Good, bun. I’m glad.” Grinning, you catch his lips in a quick kiss before pulling away once again. To get more leverage, (you’re going off of stuff you’ve seen Jungkook do,) you push yourself up onto your feet. “Being so good, taking me so well.”

“Are you, fuck fuck ah,” He whines, clenching around you as you’re able to finally set a steady pace, using your legs as leverage. “Are you mating pressing me right now?” Jungkook cracks in between moans, trying his hardest to maintain his composure. His brows are scrunched together, lips bit bright red as his lids struggle to stay open, completely and utterly fucked out. There’s a thin layer of sweat slowly building, making his skin shine prettily. 

“Wish I could feel you Kook, wish I could.” You ignore his previous comment, eyebrows scrunching together as you focus on your movements. In any other context, Jungkook would coo at you and rub the small wrinkle that forms out with both thumbs, place a kiss there maybe. But in this context, with the concentration you’re giving him, it’s a scary one.

“Fuck, don't say that. Don't know how I’d react if I was able to feel you.” He reaches, teasingly pulling you in by your hip and throwing off your balance.

“I’m about to slip a fucking sleeve over your cock so you stop being such a smartass, bun.” You growl, snapping hard into him. It’s the whinest moan you think you’ve ever heard from Jungkook since you’ve met him, cock jumping at the threat. “Such a whore, Kook.” You can’t help but quip, watching as he stifles the moan that threatens to spill out. 

“Think I’m gonna cum again,” His hands move to rest on his forehead, covering his face from you. 

“Uhh uhh, you know better than that bun.” The smugness drips from your voice, one of your hands coming to pin Jungkook’s hands away from his red face. “C'mon, don’t make me punish you, cum for me like a good boy.” There’s a feral-ness in your voice, wanting to see him squirm underneath you, cry for you as he cums. Your hips snap on their own accord, watching as his soft pink lips part with each moan you work out of him. 

“Fuck, Kook. So beautiful underneath me feels like I’m gonna die,” You complain with a smile, leaning over his body to bite softly into his chest. And you move to nip his neck, then the very base of his jaw, before moving back to his chest again to mark him. “Can't take it, how good you are.” You praise more, watching as he teeters on the very edge of his orgasm. His brain genuinely melts, jaw falling slack just the slightest bit as he full-body cums again, legs shaking around your waist. Jungkook breaks your hold on his arms, pulling your body close as he kisses you, sloppy and needy. Your palms trail along his skin, offering comfort to his shaking thighs and heaving chest as you slowly soothe them. “Easy, bun, easy.” You coo in between kisses, eventually slowing the needy kisses down to gentle and slow to help him catch his breath. 

“Holy shit,” He finally offers, making you chuckle as you softly smooth his messy hair, pushing his bangs away from his sweaty forehead.

“You’re making such a fucking mess, bun. Just fuckin oozing everywhere like a whore, can't help it huh?” Teasing, you swipe at his abdomen to collect some of it, showing it off on your fingers. Jungkook can't help but tremble, whines spilling past his lips from your teasing. “You okay? Wanna take a break?” You check in after dropping your teasing tone, sitting up a bit on your heels to assess him. There are way more bite marks than you remember giving him, some showing the indents of your teeth in his flesh. It makes your cheeks warm, thumbs swiping the bite marks gently to try and smooth them out (it doesn’t work at all.) 

“No, no, I think I have one more in me at least. God, pretty girl, fuckin feral huh?” Jungkook smiles, rubbing over the bite marks himself. Embarrassment overcomes you, cheeks reddening as all you can do is smile. “I like it.” 

“What can I say, gotta mark what’s mine.” You offer cheekily, leaning in for one last kiss before resuming. “You think you can take it on your knees?”

“Oh fuck,” It’s more of a whimper than anything, Jungkook knowing this is, in fact, going to be the last one before his mind melts entirely. “Think I might die if I take it on my knees.” He offers, whimpering as you slide out of him to allow him to move. If Jungkook was luckier, you suppose you’d go easier on him, maybe whisper sweet nothings into his ear as you give him back shots. As he flips over, ass waving in the air, you feel as if you’ve been starved for the last year. His waist looks smaller than normal like this, shoulder muscles flexing as he rests on his arms, thighs shaking just the slightest bit from his previous 2 orgasms. 

Definitely not going to be gentle, you discern. Your hands instinctively reach for his ass, lightly slapping this skin underneath your palms to test his reaction. He offers a muffled groan, pushing his ass back into you. Slapping slightly harder, his skin begins to redden into a faint handprint. “My little whore.” You can't stop yourself, Jungkook pushing himself back once again. Pushing yourself up onto your knees, you easily slip in the head, earning a throaty groan from Kook. “God, bun.” Is all you can manage, reaching over into your bedside drawer to fish out another toy. “Be good and get this wet for me, alright?” You almost purr, a giant smile spread across your face as you hand him the fleshlight. 

You slide into him with a wet shhlickk, humming softly as your hips meet his soft skin. Glancing around to the best of your ability, Jungkook’s obviously conflicted as he steals glances at the bottle of lube that sits near him. “Bun, I said wet it.” You drawl, leaning over his body to reach, Jungkook letting out a whine from how deep you are. You take it from his stilled hands, his mind too preoccupied with the way your hips press into his ass. “Cum a couple of times and can’t think, huh?” You tease, pushing the toy up to his lips, grinding it against him as he begins eating it out. 

Jungkook groans, so deep and throaty that you would've sworn he just came without even being stimulated, mind beginning to catch up to all the sensations. “Please, move Y/n. Can’t take it, too deep.” Kook whimpers, pushing his ass harder into your hips. Death grip still around the toy, you're unmoving. 

“Bun, cmon. Be good for me, this is the first thing I've asked of you this entire time.” It’s a sight for your sore eyes, pink tongue slipping into the clear center as his eyebrows form that familiar crease between them with concentration. The hand not holding the toy slides around his torso, gently rubbing over his sensitive chest and nipples to give him some sort of touch. You can't help but clench around nothing, watching as his jaw flexes and tenses with each movement. Pulling it away, you're almost drooling with desire. “You gonna let me be rough with you, bun?” You tease, easily sliding the toy partially over him. 

He just shakes underneath you, absolutely quivers as he sinks into the toy. “Yes, please. Please be rough, be mean,” He whines, biting down hard on his lower lip as you rock into him, forcing him to rock into the toy in turn. 

“See Kook? I move, you move.” You can’t help but smile, chest still flush against his back as you allow him to get used to it. Both hands find his chest, squeezing, pinching, and rubbing wherever they can. Jungkook’s basically panting underneath you, abs clenched hard in concentration as he tries not to cum embarrassingly early. “Gonna move now, alright?” He offers a nod as an answer, eyes screwed shut and lips bit down. 

You force a deep moan out of him with the very first thrust of your hips, not only hitting his prostate but forcing him completely into the clear toy underneath him. “Gonna cum early Kook? Feels too good, huh? Just so many different sensations happening at once.” You tease him. Reaching forward, you pull hard on the back of his hair, Jungkook’s being forced up onto his hands.

“Feels good, really good. Too good.” He almost babbles, making the heat in your abdomen pool. “Don't wanna cum yet, but might.” He whimpers, mouth falling open as you snap your hips hard into him. Without even thinking, you allow your fingers to slip into his mouth, pressing down hard on his tongue. Jungkook genuinely drools, coating your fingers and creating a string that falls onto the covers. “Lemme cum, wanna cum, bad.” 

“You have to ask nicely.” You grit, grinding into him. One of your arms wraps around his torso, holding him close. Your lips meet his shoulder, biting down slightly on the warm skin.

“Please lemme cum.” It’s the best you’re going to get in his current state, mind seconds from leaving his head completely. 

“Go head bun, come hard for me.” You coo, keeping your antics up to the best of your ability given the exhaustion slowly creeping up on you. (You’re older than Kook, give yourself a break. You don’t have as much stamina as the boy.) “Be good and let me hear you, bun.” You could cum just from listening to him, whining, moaning, and borderline crying as he cums for the last time of the night. His thighs shake against yours, hands creating fists around the covers as his knuckles go white. “Easy, Kook. Easy, you’re okay.” You help him through it, hands roaming his body to help ground him with your touch. Slowly, you maneuver him back down to his elbows to rest. “Gonna slide out, okay, I’ll be careful.” Talking him through it, you help him onto his back, tossing the toys aside to be cleaned. 

“Holy fuck.” Jungkook whines, covered in his own fluids as he finally rests entirely. There’s drool covering his chest, absolutely lewd as he peers up at you with half-open eyes. “Gonna have to do that again, sometime.” 

“You okay, Jungkook?” You ask gently, taking him into your arms as your lips meet for the millionth time that night. 

Jungkook beams at you, the widest and most cheesy smile you’ve seen in a while. “Of course, babe. More than okay, thank you for doing that with me.” He grins, cupping your face in one hand as he kisses you. 

“C'mon, let’s go take a bath. I don't think your legs could stand long enough for a shower.” You tease. He knows you're right, but he profusely denies it in an attempt to prove you wrong and show just how strong he is. (He needs your help walking to the bathroom, wobbly legs himself.) You allow him to keep his dignity, not bullying him too much on the way to the tub.

“Wait, you didn’t cum did you?” Jungkook makes the sudden revelation in the bathroom, pulling you close to his chest. Your hands meet his biceps, small smiles spreading across both of your faces.

“No, but it’s okay I- KOOK!” He catches you off guard as he easily dips a hand into your panties, fingers immediately slipping through your folds from how wet you are. “It’s okay, I enjoyed seeing you like that for me regardless, I don't have to cum to enjoy things you know?” 

“Hmmm, but it’d make me feel a lot better.” Jungkook cheekily smiles, already working you up as he slots his thigh in between your own. “Please cum for me, just once. I’ll lend you my fingers, please cum on my fingers.” He’s basically begging, waiting for you to nod before moving his hand anymore. It's hotter than you would've thought, you riding his fingers while standing, sloppily making out as he swallows your moans with soft groans, bodies held close together, warm skin against warm skin. “Sound so pretty, angel. These sounds just for me, all mine,” He mumbles against your lips, making you clench hard around him. 

“Just a bit more, Kook. Almost there,” You whine loudly, grinding against him.

“I’ve got you, bun’s got it.” Jungkook easily takes you there, basically knows your body like the back of his hand. Your knees part more to allow his hand to move more freely, legs shaking slightly as you stand on your toes. 

“Cumming Kook.” Eyebrows scrunching together, the pool that’s been hot in your stomach finally overflows, your poor cunt aching as you cum. Jungkook does his best to ride you through it for as long as possible, milking it for all it’s worth. “Too much, hurts.” You whimper against Jungkook’s neck, softly grabbing his wrist.

“I love you. I fucking love you so much.” Jungkook removes his hand as quickly as he shoved it in your panties, pulling you close as he kisses you. 

“Oh my god! Get in the tub, we’re going to be fucking in my bathroom if we keep this up.” You giggle, softly pushing him toward the already-filled tub. 

“Fine, even though that seems like a fun time too,” Jungkook complains, climbing in. His eyes never leave your frame as you take off your panties, dropping them in the laundry before slipping in behind him. “Hot.”

“Kook, shhhhhhhh.” The both of you laugh, Jungkook moving to rest against your torso. Placing a hand on his forehead, you softly pull his head back to rest it on your shoulder. “I love you too, Jungkook. Always have.” You kiss his cheek softly, hands coming to hold his head gently as you do. Jungkook pretends to hate it, jokingly pulling away from your lips as you kiss him multiple times. You’re sure he’s blushing, but he ferociously avoids looking at you as you try to see his cheeks better to tease. 

He’s 100% blushing as he sits up away from you, you're sure of it. He offers a “nuh uh” before you're slapping a hand across his eyes, yanking him down once more. It makes the both of you laugh loudly, water sloshing against the tub walls. Finally, he gives in. “Fine, whatever. Love you too.”

“Love you more, wobbly legs.”

If you have any comments, feedback, etc, please let me know in the tags or comments! I always love to hear from readers and listen to your thoughts! Thank you for reading. 

Love, G <3

[ceilidho]

Now I cant stop thinking about when Ghost eventually brings Soap over for dinner:

Gf all dolled up, looking at him all pretty, greeting him with the sweetest smile and he can’t stop his mind from wandering to the filthy pictures he has seen of you.

She cooked up something really good (babbling something about keeping her boys strong and healthy, she likes them well fed), it's A5 Wagyu steak (the best cut the butcher had to offer) obviously payed with Ghost's money. He rarely splurges on himself but when it comes to his gf and Soap he doesn’t hold back.

The dinner can go two ways:

1.Lovie seated next to Soap, across from him Ghost. Halfway through his steak he notices a slight touch to his knee, but he brushes it off not acknowledging it further. When that touch gets firmer and starts to wander up his thigh he definitely notices. His body shudders and he almost chokes on the food in his mouth (much to Ghost's enjoyment), his eyes fall on you shooting him a lazy smile and oh my god are your eyes seductive like in the pics.

2.You sitting next to Ghost with Soap across from him. Both men engaged in a conversation about their last Op. When you play the oldest trick written in the books: oops I dropped my fork let me get it from under the table. It helps that Soap is still not fully used to Ghost's unmasked face, so he doesn’t notice you diving under the table. What he does notice is something heavy on his thigh and two hands ghosting over his belt buckle. He visibly jumps a little, his gaze falling into his lap, where you look up at him all doe-eyed, head resting on his right leg, waiting for permission.

In either scenario, a gruff voice brings Soap to snap his eyes back up holding eye-contact with his Lieutenant(who’s completely ignoring your antics):

"Enjoying yourself, Sergeant?"

Anyway it ends with cream pie for dessert <3

(Please tell me off, if i ever cross your boundaries or make you feel uncomfortable it’s the last thing i want to do when sending in nasty thoughts)

you're very sweet to check in about my boundaries!!! don't worry though - as long as the comments aren't aimed towards me (which maybe would be a bit off putting) and they're just related to stuff I'm writing ahah, I don't really care. I probably should think about and then clarify if I have any boundaries on my pinned post, but rn you're totally good!

(nsfw below)

Oh my god that last option has my brain melting out of my ears. Especially if Soap's still half-unsure if they're fucking with him or not, or if this is a one time thing that they're including him on. He obviously doesn't want to blow his only shot if this is the only time he'll ever get to fuck you.

Also there's something so surreal to him about you being on your knees in front of him after he's been literally jerked off in the middle of the desert by the man sitting across the table from him. To photos of you. In any other circumstance, if Soap had met you first and this was just a dinner between the two of you, he wouldn't be half as nervous; he'd be so comfortable and needy while you fit his length down your throat, palming the back of your head and maybe trying to fit more than you can manage before backing off and apologizing 😔

With Ghost sitting there though, just staring at him (and Soap has a fairly good understanding of Ghost as a person, but even he has trouble really getting a read on the guy), he's not sure if he should just sit there motionlessly as you undo his jeans and pull his dick out or if he should touch you. He can't stop looking from your face pressed up against the bulge in his briefs back to Ghost's (no mask now that they're at home away from everyone, but his real face is so much more intimidating somehow in this context).

Ghost at one point going, "Not gonna thank her for all her hard work?" and Soap can only whine and pat the back of your head shakily after coming down your throat, your lips still a bit wet with him when you pull away.

[arknights-imagines]

Tbh I was thinking of a scenario in my head about doktah (or U) being injured and Rico was taking care of U and U cupped his cheek and called him pretty, he was confused but flustered a bit (insert glitching computer sounds) anyway i luv u and anyone who’s reading this 😍

- 🐲 anon

Hiya there 🐲 anon! Tysm for your request (and I love you too sbsuwh 🥰!!)

I knew I wanted one of the first things I posted after being away for v long to be a request for Executor/'Rico, so your request was perfectly timed and I loved your idea lots aaa! It's v v cute and I feel it fits Executor/'Rico v well 🥺💕!!

I'm a li'l nervous since I feel I'm a bit rusty shiuhge 😭...! But, I had fun with this one and it feels good to be back aaa I hope I did Executor justice here 🙏

Anywho, to you and everyone else, I hope you all enjoy 🥰!!

Taglist for Executor/All Writing!:

@donsofwaste

@tiredstudents

@marahuyos

@vesvic

@cl3v-j

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Error

Imagine format; mostly in the perspective of the reader, written in second person!

Contains: Executor, gender-neutral Operator as the reader, acquaintances to crushes relationship lolojshd, mentions of things and references to lots of from Executor's archive files, minor injuries and violence, the reader is one of Rhodes Island's Elite Operators, the reader is a li'l bit of a flirt lololsjs, nameless and gender-neutral Doctor as a background character, humour, fluff 💕!

Word count: a little over 2.7k!

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All Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to work alongside and be dispatched on Operations with each other. Such was a simple fact, and an obvious one; of course it would be bizarre for Rhodes Island, with their policy of levelling all who they employ as equal and for not tolerating discrimination irrespective of one’s reasons, to restrict certain Operators from being assigned into Squads together.

The case of Executor, however, was unavoidably more complicated different.

While all Rhodes Island Operators were allowed to be sent into combat with Executor - that didn’t mean all Rhodes Island Operators were willing to be sent into combat with Executor.

When you had approached the Doctor regarding the subject before boarding the transport that was to take you to the site of your next Operation - you had been assigned to an Operation, along with a party of other Elite Operators that included the Sankta in question, that was a hostage-rescue in Columbia -, they looked off to where Executor was stood counting his ammunition nearby then shrugged.

You had tilted your head to the side and so the Doctor elaborated, “He’s more than capable of handling the perimeter of the Operation ite by himself, and besides, no one on the Squad was agreed to being deployed with him. It’s not unusual, considering his… reputation.” A lift of one of your eyebrows was paired with a puzzled mutter, “But, it’d still be better for him to have some sort of back up. And, what ‘reputation’? Do you mean how he has those people from the Engineering Department always flirting with him?”

It was the Doctor’s turn to tilt their head to the side now, before their voice left them slowly, “No, that’s not what I was-…” They paused, studying your facial features then shifting their gaze from you to Executor, “I was referring to other...things…”

Be it his direct completion of any combat task assigned to him, the immense amount of collateral damage left in nearly all of his mission sites, or that account from the deeply-fazed Operator who was deployed as his partner once, of how Executor barehandedly tore out the heart of a beast directly from its chest - that last one had soon become a Rhodes Island horror story, reimagining Executor as some form of a boogieman impersonating as a Sankta -, majority of Operators had an excuse as to why they would prefer not to be near the ever-composed Sankta during Operations.

The Doctor had long observed a pattern in your behaviour when near Executor, that was in stark contrast to everyone else; though his presence caused most to snap their back straight and tighten the line of their shoulders, your posture when with him instead was always eased with not even the slightest indicator of tension.

Perhaps then, there was one Operator willing to be sent into combat with Executor, the Doctor reassessed.

Such reassessment is the reason as to why you and Executor were in the position you both were currently - together on a short rooftop in order to provide ranged support as the rest of the Squad rescued the hostages and subdued the hostiles.

The choice to deploy you with Executor was surprisingly beneficial, as two pairs of eyes are better at one pair in regards to surveying for threats. Despite that the rest of the Squad had initially looked at the Doctor as though they’d grown a pair of Sarkaz ears and gained a Phidian tail all at once, they now concluded yours and Executor’s position together for this Operator as all part of the Doctor’s plan.

However, you would’ve argued that your eyes slowly becoming more occupied with staring at the Sankta in wordless awe - those rumours about how his appearance was candy for one’s eyes were in fact not simple rumours at all, you realized - rather than your eyes being focused on the Operation site below and the surrounding area, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

You would’ve argued again that your distracted state caused by Executor’s close proximity resulting in you failing to notice the hostile crossbowman a few rooftops away with you as his target, until his bolt was already fired and struck into your shoulder, was not part of the Doctor’s plan.

“Ghk!” You gulped down the pained yelp as the arrowhead suddenly pierced into your body, and instead a strained grunt of effort covered over it as you lifted the weapon-bearing arm upward in a swift movement; snapping your eyes off of their spot previously super-glued onto Executor’s face, you narrow your gaze and fix it onto the now-fleeing crossbowman. Trusting your own aim as an Elite Operator, you raise your weapon without much ceremony and fire.

A relieved huff leaves your lungs after the crossbowman crumbles to the ground after your weapon-fire hits him in a direct headshot. That relief was momentary, however, as the sharpened ache throughout your entire arm quickly reminded you of the crossbow bolt in your shoulder.

Executor’s attention was rapt on your form once gravity yanked your body downward and sent your knees to collide harshly with the concrete below you; immediately, he was across the rooftop and wrapping a secure arm around your waist to assist you in sitting onto the ground with your back leaning against the ledge of the rooftop.

“You have been hit with an enemy projectile. Do not move.” His voice left him in a stable tone as expected, while his eyes scanned over your body in search of any further harm, then lingering your injury, before they settled onto your face. Your mouth opened to speak, only to shut when his gaze fixed to yours; a hue of scarlet rose onto your cheeks and your eyes averted from his own, despite that they’d been firmly locked onto him just moments earlier. The heaviness of your embarrassment - you’d just been hit by an enemy, because you were too busy oogling your Squadmate - began to near-smother the ache from your injury.

With confidence, you expected the Sankta to flatly point out your blunder in a tone lowered slightly in disappointment, as he advised you to not repeat the same mistake in the future or remarked that he should’ve declined the Doctor’s suggestion to have you function as his partner for this operation. None of those came, however.

In contrast - stark contrast - to the scenarios you’d imagined, Executor’s facial expression became one of slightly furrowed brows with faint downturn of his lips, and then his voice left him in careful words, “I apologize for my lack of attention to our surroundings. I failed to notice and warn you of the threat in time.” A thoughtful pause, and his eyes flicked to your injury before returning to yours, “I will ensure I do not repeat this mistake on subsequent occasions.”

You blinked, and for a moment you wanted to ask him to repeat what he said because you were certain you must’ve heard it wrong. Your injury had been your own mistake, not his; despite, you had rarely ever heard the Sankta’s voice laced with the sincerity it was as his words of apology left him.

Finally, your voice escaped the grip of your previous embarrassment and you managed a reply, “I-It’s alright. It’s my fault, Executor, I wasn’t paying attention. You don’t have to be concerned about it-” His head tilted to the side, then shook it in a near imperceptible movement, “Negative. The safety of my partner for this Operation is a logical cause for my concern.”

Everyone who knew him would firmly agree that he was not a man who ever said things simply out of courtesy. Therefore, the genuinity of this concern - his concern over you - was undoubtable. He felt wholly and truly responsible, for your injury and for ensuring your safety.

“E-Executor-” Your words vanished from you and your thoughts scattered once more as Executor returned his attention to your injury, “The projectile is not an Originium product, there is no risk of Oripathy Infection.” He angled his head to inspect the site of the injury further, then he continued, “Resulted injury is a puncture wound, estimated to be a few inches in depth. Non-lifethreatening.”

The blue of his irises lost a fraction of its sharpness when his eyes left the arrow bolt in your shoulder to find your own eyes once more, “On-field medical treatment is advised. Rest assured that I am qualified to administer.” If they weren't before already, your eyes were widened incredulously now, “You want to…patch me up?” Executor nodded, “If you will allow me, yes.” Your own nod came in a slow reply, “Yes, I'm okay with that…” His gaze focused onto your injury, “Very well.”

With that, his hands placed, one cupped your shoulder and the other held your arm steady. You half-expected a firm grip, one not aware or not caring of the force it was exerting.

Instead, Executor’s hands were careful, only applying necessary pressure; the warmth of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of his gloves and offered some soothe to the ache of your injury. Were these really the forceful hands that tore the heart out of a beast? The unexpected gentleness of his touch caused heat to rise to your cheeks and your heartbeat to quicken within your ribcage.

This certainly couldn't be the same Executor whom even your fellow Elite Operators were uncomfortable working with because of his callousness. After all, this Executor’s concern for you was evident; in the way he had instantly been at your side the moment he noticed you’d been attacked, in the way he apologized for what he believed to be his failure in protecting you, and in the way was now tending to your injury. ‘Callous’ was antonymous with ‘concern’, it was impossible for him to encapsulate both. You had yet to witness a display of his supposed lack-of-a-heart, and all but witnessed his evidence of one - a heart misread by many and miscommunicated to many, a heart abstruse.

Yes, anyone with eyes could state with confidence that Executor was handsome; it seemed, however, that you were the only who was now being settled upon with the realization that, ‘and he’s a gentleman’.

Your heart was rapid within your chest, your cheeks flushed a pink hue, - and your eyes could not remove themselves from Executor. Any attempt you made to avert your attention failed, as whenever you flicked your gaze away, it still inevitably fixed onto his careful hands, or his assured movements, or his focus-sharpened face. He unearthed a tourniquet from the black bag he had slung around his shoulder, briefly explained to you that he would apply it in order to halt blood flow and limit excessive bleeding.

He carefully set the arm of your injured shoulder to rest across your stomach, a more comfortable position and one that supports the vulnerable limb enough for the time being, “Please maintain this position, and refrain from moving or attempting to use your arm until we rejoin our Squad. A Medic Operator is required to properly attend to your injury.”, All you managed is a high-pitched sound, a “mhm” in reply.

You silently said thank you to the fact that applying the tourniquet on your arm required majority of his focus, else you were aware he would’ve noticed you staring yet again.

Your eyes studied each of his facial features, each line of his face. His eyes didn’t display enough emotion to discern, as they never did, however your closeness allowed you to notice how concentration sharpened them as he twisted the tourniquet and how the city lights illuminated the light blue hue of his irises; the ivory strands of his hair fell slightly into his gaze as he tilted his head down to properly view your injury, and your hand twitched to tuck the straying pieces away back into their place; his pale skin on his face was without blemishes, and you silently argued with yourself over if his cheeks would be cool or warm to the touch.

You didn’t have to continue mentally debating with yourself over it for very long, as your arm not effected by your injury suddenly lifted to allow your hand to cradle his cheek. Warm; the surface of his skin is warm, and under the contact of your palm, you notice his cheek becomes warmer.

Executor stiffened completely to the point of being statuesque, from his hands ceasing their task of securing your tourniquet to his lungs failing to expand with air for a moment; the only movement was of his hair falling to obscure his eyes. You initially mistook his flinch for discomfort, and you almost pulled your hand away in worry that he would push it away himself.

Again, however, Executor averted your expectations.

He tilts his head in a slow and small movement towards your touch, then he slowly allowed his gaze to drift to yours. No words produced from his throat until after a small while, when your code name was uttered from his lips and he continued in words of question, “...What do you require? Is your injury causing you excessive pain, or do you feel abnormal symptoms?” You didn’t provide an answer to his queries, unless what you blurted out next could be called a sufficient answer.

“Executor, you're pretty.”

He did not reply to you, initially. The Sankta remained unmoving, not even a twitch of his fingers or a blink of his eyes, for a long moment; when he finally did move, it was in a series of slow blinks. Then, his lungs suddenly pulled in a curt inhale of air and his eyes widened, albeit so little you would've missed had you not been leaned in closer to him.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “I am unsure what you mean.”

His reply was near priceless, as you didn't think such a straightforward statement would require elaboration; the only other thing you couldn't possibly put a fitting price on was the near-imperceptibly stunned expression that had quickly fallen onto his face.

Chiming with a light giggle, you pressed your hand closer to his cheek and reiterated in a tone firm with insistence, “As in, you're attractive. No wonder everyone in that Engineering Dormitory insists on asking you out non-stop.” Your addendum to your original statement did little to relieve Executor of his puzzled state, and did everything to exacerbate it. “Pardon. I am afraid I do not understand your wording.” His voice was loyal to that which was typical of him, as it did not falter and remained cool as usual; it was his facial features, that betrayed him.

The size of his pupils shrunk as his eyes widened a fraction more, his jaw tightened visibly as he attempted to catch his lips from falling agape, and his eyebrows lowered to knit slightly in a confused furrow. All are changes you had never witnessed on his facial features before, and each new one you noticed began to cause your lips to upturn into a delighted grin. Most especially - the pink hue that faintly dusted his cheeks.

“Oh!” Your exclamation was raised in astonishment; you'd never once seen Executor’s pale cheeks saturated with any colour at all, not on any occasion, not to any person, not in reaction to anything. And yet, they were now flushed a rosy tint. The injury on your shoulder was forgotten completely; elation lifted your heart towards the sky and mirth played across on your facial features.

With glimmering eyes and an exultant smile, your voice melted out of you in a coo lifted with tease, “Now you look really pretty, blushing like that.”

Executor’s cheeks deepened in colour, however after that, you received no further reactions. You wondered if his brain abruptly quit functioning when it received your words, unfamiliar words that it failed to process; his gaze didn’t leave your face for even a glance, his facial expression froze in wide eyes and flushed cheeks, and he halted all his movement, somehow even including the natural movements of his blackened halo and wings.

Much to your even further amusement, you were reminded of when the Rhodes Island computer terminals displayed the error with the blue screen that instructed to restart the device.