#he's built like a little potato
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Here, have a Compty
🍳
31 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don't think people realize how absolutely wild Linux is.
Here we have an Operating system that now has 100 different varieties, all of them with their own little features and markets that are also so customizable that you can literally choose what desktop environment you want. Alongside that it is the OS of choice for Supercomputers, most Web servers, and even tiny little toy computers that hackers and gadget makers use. It is the Operating System running on most of the world's smartphones. That's right. Android is a version of Linux.
It can run on literally anything up to and including a potato, and as of now desktop Linux Distros like Ubuntu and Mint are so easily to use and user friendly that technological novices can use them. This Operating system has had App stores since the 90s.
Oh, and what's more, this operating system was fuckin' built by volunteers and users alongside businesses and universities because they needed an all purpose operating system so they built one themselves and released it for free. If you know how to, you can add to this.
Oh, and it's founder wasn't some corporate hotshot. It's an introverted Swedish-speaking Finn who, while he was a student, started making his own Operating system after playing around with someone else's OS. He was going to call it Freax but the guy he got server space from named the folder of his project "Linux" (Linus Unix) and the name stuck. He operates this project from his Home office which is painted in a colour used in asylums. Man's so fucking introverted he developed the world's biggest code repo, Git, so he didn't have to deal with drama and email.
Steam adopted it meaning a LOT of games now natively run in Linux and what cannot be run natively can be adapted to run. It's now the OS used on their consoles (Steam Deck) and to this, a lot of people have found games run better on Linux than on Windows. More computers run Steam on Linux than MacOS.
On top of that the Arctic World Archive (basically the Svalbard Seed bank, but for Data) have this OS saved in their databanks so if the world ends the survivors are going to be using it.
On top of this? It's Free! No "Freemium" bullshit, no "pay to unlock" shit, no licenses, no tracking or data harvesting. If you have an old laptop that still works and a 16GB USB drive, you can go get it and install it and have a functioning computer because it uses less fucking resources than Windows. Got a shit PC? Linux Mint XFCE or Xubuntu is lightweight af. This shit is stopping eWaste.
What's more, it doesn't even scrimp on style. KDE, XFCE, Gnome, Cinnamon, all look pretty and are functional and there's even a load of people who try make their installs look pretty AF as a hobby called "ricing" with a subreddit (/r/unixporn) dedicated to it.
Linux is fucking wild.
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
ever since you were young, you've fallen victim to at least one terrible cold per year.
it's not your fault—your almost laughably fallible immune system is seemingly genetic, as your family was always the same growing up—but even that biological truth does little to make you feel better when you're in the thick of cough and cold season, waiting for illness to inevitably strike. one faint, meagre consolation from your predictably lacklustre immune response means that you at the very least have a fairly well-practiced routine for when you fall ill. you know the brands of medication that work best, the fever patches with the most reliable adhesion, which teas seem to help decongest you better than others. you've got soup recipes, and hot water bottles, and fuzzy socks tucked away at the ready for when you need them, because you know that you eventually will.
but this season, there's a wild card in the mix. a variable you haven't had the opportunity to plan for in years past.
shouto.
you met shouto last summer at a going away party to which you were a plus one of someone who didn't even know the person who was going away particularly well. you'd been beyond shocked when you turned up to the gathering only to see half the top pro-hero ranking list gathered before your very eyes. even more shocked when the most handsome one in the room—in the world?—bothered to speak to you.
your relationship with shouto built slowly. you were casually dating last cold season, so he hadn't had to witness you at your lowest, but this year you're living together—having moved in rather suddenly just shy of your one year anniversary since your lease was ending and shouto's apartment was more than suitable for two.
so now here you are, languishing in the bed you share with your still unfairly handsome pro-hero boyfriend, drifting in and out of consciousness in a decongestant fuelled haze, with a (now tepid) fever patch stuck to your forehead.
and there is a god awful racket coming from outside your bedroom door.
peeling yourself up from the loving embrace of your mattress is a nearly herculean task, but once you're upright it's not so hard to stuff your feet into your slippers and stumble your way to the the door. your head feels heavy and your cough is still in the nasty hacking stage, but you suspect your fever's dropping, which means the worst of your illness is likely over. any relief you may feel is decidedly shortlived as you turn the corner to the kitchen and freeze in place.
"shouto—" your voice is so raspy it sounds foreign to you "—what are you doing?"
in the kitchen, standing in the eye of what can only be described as a culinary hurricane, is your apron-clad boyfriend. he has one of your barrettes clipping his two-toned bangs up off his forehead, and a smudge of something (presumably edible) across his cheek. his eyes are wide as he turns to face you in the centre of this disaster, a carrot in one hand and a potato masher in the other.
"i," shouto pauses, and though you know it's not for dramatic effect it sure sounds like it is, "am cooking."
you start coughing, and rush to cover your mouth—turning away and bending a little at the waist from the force of it. you see shouto step towards you in your peripheral vision, but with the hand not covering your mouth you wave him away—you should have gotten a mask before you left your bedroom, but in your haste you'd forgotten to grab one.
"you sound terrible," shouto remarks and then follows up his own commentary with another, somewhat reproachful, "that's not very nice."
you look at him curiously, confused as to what he's just said and he points to his ear where he has one wireless earbud in.
"that was bakugou," he explains, and you realize he was only relaying the comment of his friend on the phone. "i'll call you back," he says again, and this time you don't need to wonder who he's speaking to before he plucks his headphone out of his ear and sets it (and the carrot and potato masher) down in the very limited counter space left.
shouto fidgets with his hands now that they're empty, inching a bit closer to you—slowly, like he know's you're going to wave him off again and is trying to avoid it.
"how are you feeling?" he asks.
"a bit better," you say, even though you don't sound it.
"why are you out of bed?" he follows up his first question with another, concern in his gaze.
"i heard... something," your eyes scan the room as you take in the very something you speak of. "why are you cooking?"
"i'm making you soup," shouto says, and then looks around the room at the scene you'd just surveyed. then he looks back at you again with a somewhat grim expression. "i'm trying to make you soup," he corrects himself.
and maybe it's the fever, or the decongestants, or the fact that he's possibly the sweetest man you've ever met in your life (on top of being the most handsome), but suddenly you feel like you might cry. or laugh, maybe. you aren't entirely sure either of them is off the table.
"what kind of soup?" you ask him, and this time your voice is croaky for an entirely unrelated reason.
"chicken soup," he answers, and he's suddenly closer than he'd been at first—having continued creeping closer to you when your guard was lowered. "with ginger. you said you like that."
"i do," you answer, and when shouto reaches out to wrap his arms around you, you have no will left in you to push him away. you tuck your face against his chest and relax against the firm, familiar shape of his body pressing into yours.
shouto peels the old fever patch from your forehead and tosses it aside, replacing it with the delightfully cool palm of his hand. he's been doing this since you fell ill, and was more than a little affronted the first time he came home from work and saw that you'd put a cooling patch on in his absence—as though jealous that it wasn't his touch that you were turning to for relief.
"was bakugou helping you make soup?" you ask, leaning into his hand.
shouto hums, and you feel the sound reverberate through his broad chest. "i don't know if helping is the right word."
"why did you have a potato masher out for chicken soup?" you then ask, remembering the utensil he'd been holding when you first walked into the kitchen.
"potato masher..." shouto says, realization heavy in his tone. he'd clearly had no idea what it was to begin with. "i was looking for a slotted spoon."
you laugh, and then cough a little.
"you should get back to bed," shouto insists.
"just another minute," you sigh, reaching up to hold his wrist and keep his hand in place. shouto freezes, and you feel his eyes on your face, peeking up at him through your lashes.
"what?" you ask him curiously.
in place of an answer, shouto wraps his arm (the one you don't have in your clutches) around your waist and hoists you up, balancing you against his hip like an overgrown toddler.
"sho-shouto! wait!"
he doesn't wait. in fact, he barely acknowledges you've said anything at all as he trots back in the direction of your shared bedroom. before you even manage to get your bearings, shouto's placed you gently back into bed, shucked his apron, and crawled in alongside you under the covers. you hardly have time to miss the cool weight of his hand before it's returned to its rightful place against your brow.
"what about your soup?" you ask him, but even in spite of your own words—and the fact that you've been keeping him at arm's length for days out of concern for his own health—you find yourself curling up against his side in bed, snuggling closer.
"i don't think it was going to taste very good anyway," shouto remarks somberly. he pouts a little. "bakugou said he'd drop some off for you later, because he was worried my soup was going to kill you."
you laugh, and then cough, and then rest your cheek against his chest.
shouto's heartbeat thumps steadily beneath your ear. his hand stays cool against your skin.
you may not have planned for him, but you think you might keep him around.
790 notes
·
View notes
Text
Play Fighting
Alastor x GN!Reader
TW: None!
A/N:Had this idea when I was drifting off to sleep.
Listen- I know Alastor is a gentleman but what if he was a little bit silly? Just a silly little craeture?
So imagine this-
It starts off as you gently nudging his foot with your foot occasionally, he’ll look up at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin so wide you’d think you’d offended the poor man reading his papers! He’d nudge your foot back and go back to his paper.
Then it escalates to you following him around pretending to punch or push him around but not actually touching him, he chuckles and ignores you cause he knows as soon as he looks over at you, you back off or run away.
Then it’s you actually trying to knock him off his feet. He may be skinny but he is like a brick fucking wall. Hugging his waist as you try to push him down, making silly little noises as you try your darndest. He lets it happen, you’re just as weak as a mouse! You couldn’t possibly hurt him! And if he gets tired? He picks you up and carries you around like a sack of potatoes. But you tire yourself out quicker.
What really gets him is when you turn around and look at Lucifer, “I can fight Alastor, no magic or anything involved! He’s built like a twig!” Oh that’s ground for fighting, little mouse. The second you turn around? He’s placing his cane somewhere safe and taking his favorite jacket off, rolling up his sleeves the whole shebang. Then it’s on.
In a flash he tackles you to the ground and it ends up with you laughing, trying to kick his feet out from under him as you lock hands together. There are taunts involved and bites- he will bite the shit out of you, but not enough to take a chunk out of you. An unsuspecting passerby might think it’s something else but in reality? You guys are just duking it out, somehow you flipped Alastor over and started gloating about it- yeah you get pushed away with his feet and he’s ontop of you again.
It eventually ends up when one of you calls it and then he’s laying on you or pulling you to his chest for a quick little nap. No one says a thing cause what the fuck just happened?
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel imagine#gn reader#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x gn!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Folklore: A Trilogy (August)
Childhood friend!Jake X F!Reader
Synopsis: Ever since you left home to pursue the city life, you really did think that everything was over. Then you returned, and you still see him there. Will something rekindle and burn inside you once more?
word count: 24.6k
genre & warnings: fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, kind of slowburn, summer love/fling au, this fic is taylor swift inspired (maybe you'll also see other song references but who knows), mentions of bullying & childhood trauma, cursing, drinking, party/festival, country side & small town settings, fights, jealousy, built up sexual tension, implied situationship, lies lies lies, sop (with bf!sunghoon), cheating (zont zo this, stay loyal!), oral m&f rec, fingering, nipple play, dry humping, overstimulation, creampie, kitchen sex, bedroom sex lmao, multiple unprotected (wrap before you tap!) sex scenes, appearance of other idols, & reminder!! the idols' characters here do not mirror real life! not proof read! etc etc mdni
a/n: this is the first part of the Folklore: Trilogy, which focuses on Jake aka our August. also the longest fic that i have ever written for now 🥲 and yes, i changed the 'aesthetic' moodboard bc i am obsessed with this kind of layouts lately 👺
ps. likes, comments, reblogs are all appreciated! let me know what you think y'all. thank you so much and enjoy! 🩷
🎧 playlist
You stretched your back, muscles cramping from seven hours of traveling, drawing in the conventional briny ocean breeze that passes through the air as you stepped onto the sandy sidewalk, opening the brown gates and the creaking metal alarmed the people inside the building of your arrival.
"Well, aren't you home earlier than expected?" your mother greets you, giving you a welcoming hug when you enter the house and you take notice of something delicious wafting around your nostrils.
"Yes, there wasn't much traffic on the way here," you returned her embrace after dropping your bags on the floor, "and I smell something good." you remarked, heading towards the kitchen to find your dad bustling in front of the stove and your little brother mixing something in a bowl.
"They're chefs now." your mother jokes, following you in the kitchen and making small talk when the men of the house told you two to sit back and relax, to let them do the work this time.
"Wow dad," you peeked over his shoulders and you almost drooled at the delicacy he's concocting, "your cooking skills have greatly improved."
"Me too!" the youngest of your family spoke, walking over to you and nudging you with his elbow, "Look, I made your favorite dessert."
You lovingly ruffled his hair and ignored his complaints, knowing that he secretly loves it, "You're doing great as well, Riki."
You assisted with setting the table, sitting down in your usual spot and helping yourself to a large portion of food, wolfing the grub with the utmost gratitude because seriously, dorm and university meals kind of suck.
While eating, your mother decided to bring up a topic that you dare say, plain horrendous and tedious, "Now that you're here, you should come with us to the town fiesta before your summer break ends."
You groaned, not liking the idea of spending your beloved summer around other people, only wanting to be a couch potato, to sleep, eat and play games all day long.
"Don't be like that!" your father chides, eating a spoonful of the tiramisu that Riki made before speaking, "Besides, your old friends will be there. Aren't you excited to see them?"
Old friends. Pft.
Can you even consider those people your friends when all they ever did during your elementary and highschool years was to approach you whenever they needed something?
You hated them, really, they are one of the many reasons why you were determined to depart from your hometown. You only come back here from time to time because of your family. The moment you set foot into the city, you've already cut those stupid, snarky bitches in your life.
"Come to think of it, Jake will be there." Riki added, then you paused.
Jake? The aussie boy whom you've spent most of your childhood with? The same Jake who gifted you the largest teddy bear that he won in a shooting range in a local carnival?
You cautiously peered at your brother, asking him a mindless question for good measure, "Jake with a government name of Sim Jaeyun?"
"Yep, good 'ol Jake. Do you know that I'm taller than him now?" he snickers, visualizing the older boy's rage if he hears that comment.
"He's still here?" you asked once more, because surely, you thought that he's gone by now. Back to Australia to pursue a career there, it's what he has informed you before going your separate ways for college.
"Of course, where else would he be?" Riki side-eyed you then realization flashed on his face, "I get it."
"You get what?"
"You missed him." he wiggled his eyebrows teasingly that it had you slapping his shoulder in an attempt to terminate his annoying ass down.
"I don't! I was asking because he told me that he w-"
"Excuses, excuses." he cuts you off, waving his hand around dismissively, "I'm so gonna tell him that you missed him so dearly."
"Really?" you crossed your arms over your chest, a challenging aura radiating off of you, "Go ahead then, guess I'll give the clothes I bought to Sunoo and Jungwon."
He whined, you gave him the cold-shoulder, he pulled your hair, you yelled at him and you nearly went nuts when he licked your spoon filled with the last tidbits of the chocolate goodness. (which he knows is your pet peeve.)
Before a fight breaks out, your parents ushered you both to your respective rooms, saying that they'll take care of the dishes. Rubbing their foreheads and saying something along the lines of 'sibling dynamics never change.'
While showering, you pondered over the invitation, maybe you should go. Check out what's new, totally not because of a certain someone... you think?
Jake was your closest companion back then, a kind person with a heart of gold. If anything, you'd call him your true friend. He made you laugh, shared his food with you, and did everything together; attached to the hip like you two were born from the same seed.
Not until he told you that he's moving back to Australia to attend a university that he's been dreaming of since he was young.
You remembered crying yourself to sleep that day, then you made the decision to study in the city because there is no way in hell you'll survive college life here without your one and only friend.
So it really was a surprise to you when Riki revealed that he's still here. Does that mean that moving out was nothing but a mistake on your part? Does that mean that you could've stayed here and lived a peaceful life instead of hustling in a swarming city?
You shook your head, 'Y/N, don't be silly.' If you didn't explore outside your small town, then you wouldn't have the chance to meet him.
A giddy smile crept up your lips at the thought of your boyfriend. One day, you'll bring him here and he'll definitely love the area, especially the lake when it's frozen so he could skate on it, then you'll be there beaming then-
You slapped your soapy cheeks with both hands, scolding yourself for daydreaming, 'Stop being a delulu! It's only been a few months since you started dating him!'
You quickly rinsed and dried your hair, changing into some of your comfortable childhood pajamas and letting yourself fall into dreamland.
---------------------------------------------------
"What the fu-" you must have resembled that one Morty meme when he woke up, because who on earth is making all the noise downstairs when it's... oh, it's 1 PM. Dang, you slept that long? Like a log even.
You went to the bathroom and freshened yourself up, and when you deemed yourself presentable enough, you headed down to check what the commotion was about.
You definitely heard Riki shouting, but there is someone else. A voice that is eerily familiar but is somehow foreign to your ears.
You steadily walked into the living room, ceasing when you detected a mop of long black hair sitting next to your brother's shorter one.
"Huh?" you unconsciously uttered, catching the attention of the boys who are currently playing Mario Kart.
"Y/N?"
The rotation of the earth seemed to slow down when you saw him again.
There he was, the old friend that saved you from a gloomy childhood.
"Jake?" you hesitantly called out, making him smile, nodding his head in your direction before standing up and lurching towards you for a bone crushing hug.
"Y/N!"
"Jake!"
You hugged each other for what felt like hours, disconnecting when Riki cleared his throat, standing up from his position on the couch and retreating in the kitchen, "Imma go and fetch us some snacks, call me when you're done being lovey-dovey."
You rolled your eyes at your sibling's sass, returning your attention to the sunny boy in front of you.
"How are you? You look great!" he beams, tightly holding your hand in his while he scans you from head to toe.
It kind of made you self conscious, wishing that you should've made an effort to dress better but hey! He's your sweet, lovely Jake, you’re assured that there's no ill intention behind his stare.
"I’m good, busy with college and all. How about you? You look fine as heck!" you answered him with all the sincerity that you could muster, especially at the last part of your statement.
He looks great, like really great. You’ll even say that he’s transformed into an actual disney prince.
You do hark back to him being one of the rare good looking bunch of kids , but boy, did you not expect puberty to hit him like a bullet train.
Given that Riki is taller than him (man did not lie), his visuals are insane. He retained his puppy-like eyes, prominent cheekbones that were the result of his baby fats disappearing, his tall nose and jawline that are now sharper than a knife, and his lips.. his godforsaken lips. It's fuller and thicker, and not to mention, his beige skin is glowing.
He's a totally different person from what you can remember, and the more you observe him, the more you discern how much of a man he became. Only did you realize that you were blanking out when his phone rang, and being the nosey person that you are, you couldn't help but peek at the caller.
'Yuna.'
Oh, so he has a girlfriend. Well, you should have expected that. A pretty boy like him would surely bag any girl that he wanted.
"Right, I'll be there in ten." he ended the call and turned to you with an apologetic smile, "Guess we'll continue this talk later."
"I don’t mind, no problem."
Perfect if you say so, it'll give you some extra time to relax and sink the newfound information in your brain, that your childhood friend grew up into a dashing, debonair man.
"Here, give me your number so we could easily communicate." he hands you his phone, allowing you to type and save your contact.
"You're leaving?" just then, Riki emerges from the kitchen, holding a tray of munchies and setting it on the coffee table.
"Yeah, sorry man, I need to do something."
Riki side-eyes his friend with a sarcastic hum. (you think that side-eyeing people is his new habit from the amount of times he did it within a short span of time.)
"Do something or do someone?" Riki haphazardly asked, making Jake glance at you nervously, an awkward chuckle erupting from him.
"It's not like that," he glances at the clock, clicking his tongue and bidding his goodbyes, "I gotta go now. Y/N, I'll text you later."
He waves at you both, bolting through the door and Riki lets out a sardonic laugh, "Look at that fuckboy, so ready to get his dick wet."
"Hey," you pinched Riki's cheek, earning yourself a pained drone from him, "watch it. Since when did you learn vulgar words like that."
He swats your hand away, "Since birth. Ouch! Stop it!" he protests when you start pinching him more, not appreciating his raw sass.
"But really, he's a fuckboy now?" you inquired, flopping on the couch and grabbing a cookie from the plate, chomping on it while you watch Riki pour some juice for you two.
"Why? Are you jealous?" he teased, doing that same taunting eyebrow wiggle that you hate so much.
"I will literally choke you." you threatened, making him raise his hands up in surrender.
"Simmer down." he sat next to you, exiting Mario Kart and opting to play some anime on Netflix, "I don't know if it's true or not, but word from others is that Jake's been screwing girls since last year."
"Is that so?" you nonchalantly replied, listening to your brother gossip but then you got lost in your own thoughts.
The rumors are bad, but you somehow can't bring yourself to believe it. In the short amount of time since you've left, maybe some things have really changed. You wouldn't know, you weren't here to witness it.
You shrugged and watched the anime playing on the tv, something about a reincarnated slime. This is a good distraction instead of waiting for Jake to text you.
---------------------------------------------------
You don't know what came over you when you heard your phone go off, the message notification sound making your heart skip a bit. You hurriedly got off your vanity and laid down on your bed, gripping the phone and opening the text.
'Hey Y/N! Jake here, this message is kinda late, so sorry, I got caught up with something.'
You smiled and saved his number, typing in a reply... which you didn't give much consideration to and now you are regretting your uninhibited decisions for sending that.
You (8:45 PM):
Got caught up by your girlfriend? Who was she again, Yuna?
Jake (8:46 PM):
You saw that?
Noo, it wasn't like that I swear. I helped her fix her brother’s computer. She is just a friend, nothing more, nothing less.
Again, you don't know what came over you as you rolled over your bed, staggering at the fact that he's explaining himself even though he’s not required to. And you guessed you took too long to reply when your phone buzzed, signaling that he's calling you.
You straightened your back, clicking the green button, "Hello," his voice sounded gruff over the speaker, "are you mad? Promise, she's not my girlfriend or anything. Please don't be mad."
Straight to the point, you see, and his chatterbox personality still comes out whenever he gets mousy about something.
"Jake, chill out." you giggled when you heard his relieved sigh from the other side, "I'm not mad at you, I just did something for a while." you lied, "Besides, why would I be angry if you got a girlfriend?"
There was a beat of silence before he spoke, "I mean, we did make a promise back then so.." he trails off, and the flashback about your salad days takes over.
"Promise me that I'll be the only girl in your life!" you cried, smacking little Jake on the head.
"Ack!" he yowled, his tiny hands flying to the stinging area of his skull.
You were being unreasonable, but the thought of losing Jake to that ugly girl in class 2-A made your younger self throw a tantrum. Wailing like a toddler while stomping around the empty playground.
"Y/N! I didn't do it on purpose! She touched me first!" Jake tried to explain, sprinting to you when you accidentally tripped on a rock, face planting on the dirt, "Are you okay?!"
You hurriedly sat up, not wanting to look weak despite your crying and looked at him, staring at his teary eyes, maybe you are being unfair to him.
You sniffled, wiping your tears away before mumbling, "Just promise me."
Jake sighs, dropping to his knees in front of you and holding his pinky finger out, linking it with yours forcefully but with care, "I promise you, in the name of all my ancestors, that you'll be the one and only girl in my life!" he exclaims, giving you a toothy smile that immediately soothes all your stupid concerns.
"Well, except for my mom and Layla... and maybe some relatives."
You bit your lower lip, heart rate speeding up, "You haven't forgotten about that? We're like, what? Eight?"
"I take my pinky promises seriously!" he declares, making you laugh heartily at his mindless yet captivating jest.
"So, wanna catch up? Let's hang out at the beach." he suddenly proposed, catching you off guard. You peeked at the clock, it's nearing 9 PM but oh well, you're old enough to do this, unlike before that you had to sneak out of the house just to meet up with him.
"Yeah sure. Just give me a few minutes." you agreed and he happily cheered, the call ended after that and you hurriedly stood from your bed; Fixing your hair in the mirror, making sure to spray a decent amount of perfume and tiptoeing out of your house, trudging the road for a seven to ten minutes stroll to the beach.
When you arrived, Jake was already there, fixing a blanket that you assumed he brought so the two of you can sit comfortably instead of getting sand on your buttocks.
"Hello, kind sir." you greeted him like a princess, bowing to him gracefully.
"Hello to you too, mademoiselle." he takes your hand as he mimics the bow that you did.
"You speak french now?" you razzed, resting on the blanket first and tapping the space beside you.
"I was trying to go along with whatever skit you're doing." he says, his tone sprinkled with some attitude but nonetheless still sat beside you.
The atmosphere was tranquil as you both stared at the clear night skies, letting the evening wind blow through your faces, bringing a sense of solace that you really missed.
Until your mouth itches and you break the congenial quietude, bringing up the topic that has been bothering you.
"Say Jake," you started, staring right ahead and disregarding his sparkling eyes that he directed at you when he heard your voice, "you told me that you're going back to Australia for college. It really was a surprise that you're still here. What happened?"
He averted his gaze when you went and returned his stare, "Nothing. Just.. something came up, so my parents told me to stay here instead."
You frowned, your guts telling you that he wasn't telling you the entire truth, but you ultimately decided to let it go for now. You don't want to make him uncomfortable by pushing him to open up to you, knowing that it's been a while since you two had hung out.
Heck, you think- no, you believe that he's closer to your brother now.
You let out a sigh, giving him a covert smile and patting his back, "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Nah, it's fine." his mood shifted into a lighter one, seizing your hand on his shoulder and clasping it into his, "Aside from that, I'm glad that I didn't leave, because if I did," he squeezes your hand, his warmth seeping through your bones, "I wouldn't be able to see you again."
For the nth time that night, for whatever mysterious reason, you went and reciprocated his actions, squeezing his hand tighter, sitting next to him closer, and smiling blithely at him, "Welps, I'm here now." you whisper, and you swear you saw something twinkle in his irises.
"You are." he smiles back, releasing your hand and slinging an arm over your shoulders, "That is why we need to make the most of it, okay?"
You hummed, leaning on his side and snuggling under his hold.
You’ll later say that you missed him, that’s it. You missed your friend, the person who stuck by your side despite your annoying and messy ass.
There's nothing wrong with spending time with a person that you had regarded as your human diary, the person that you once held feelings for. That was all in the past, for now, you'll catapult your qualms away and enjoy the moment.
When it was getting colder, Jake offered to walk you home, laughing like some elementary schoolers while trudging to your house, talking about the dumbest shit you had done during your juvenile years.
It was nice, it was always nice being with him. A sense of warmth within you knowing that you're safe when you're with him.
The reminiscing went to a halt when you stood by your humble abode's gates, "Welps, I'll see you again soon." you stood awkwardly, like you wanted to say more, to do more, but you don't know what words or actions there are to say or do.
Finally, Jake took the initiative and stepped towards you, enveloping you in his arms and wishing you a good night before parting your own ways.
As you lay down on your mattress, drowsiness lulling you to sleep, you couldn't help but think about the light pressure on the crown of your head when Jake hugged you.
You chose to remain ignorant, along with the thunderous thumping of your heart in your chest.
---------------------------------------------------
"Oh my god! He's a hottie!" Sunoo exclaimed, gaping at the picture on your phone.
"Let me see!" Jungwon dropped the other side of the shirt that he's been vying for with Riki, making the younger stumble on the floor, the other dashing on Sunoo's spot on the couch.
Your brother groaned, rubbing his stinging buttocks that made contact with the cold wooden tiles, "That fucking hurt."
"Language, Riki." your scolding fell on deaf ears as he continued muttering curses under his breath, directing such vile words to his friends.
You, Riki, and his childhood friends’, Jungwon and Sunoo, are currently in the living room, busting out the souvenirs that you bought for them when the topic of your boyfriend was brought up. (courtesy by the pocketz.)
They were whining to you, begging you to show them a photo, to which you shyly presented your phone up, your lover's social media account opened and ready for them to rubberneck at. It was safe to say that they were awed by his visuals, except for your bratty younger brother.
"I'm much more handsome than him," he comments, draping his body all over the boy who's holding the gadget and looking at the image as well, "bet I'm taller than him too."
"Shut up. Is height your only way of hyping yourself?" Sunoo rolled his eyes, shoving Riki off of him and letting Jungwon grab the phone and have his turn of stalking your boyfriend's instagram account.
"Wow, Y/N, your man looks like he came out straight from a manhwa." Jungwon stated, "And no, sorry Riki, I love you but there is no way you're more handsome than this guy."
"Whatever." Riki gave it up, choosing to hide the shirt that he's keeping tabs on from the corner of the box that made Sunoo shriek, yelling that he already called dibs on the piece of fabric.
Jungwon returned your phone back to you, going over to his friends and joining the chaos.
You chewed on your lower lip, staring at your boyfriend's picture. He does look ethereal. Standing in a field, looking sideways to subtly flex his side profile, and to top it off, the mixture of bright orange-blue hues of the skies highlight his sharp, charming visuals even further.
Your dopey smile was difficult to fight off, suddenly missing him and wishing for him to appear out of nowhere so you could hug and kiss him.
"What's the commotion all about?"
A wild Jake appears, infiltrating your home with a grin and scanning the area before sauntering to the venue of the ruckus You quickly close your phone, tossing it on the table and giving the aussie a side hug when he flumps on the unoccupied space beside you.
"These boys are bickering over the clothes that I bought." you explained, answering his question as he scrutinized the three idiots who kept on fighting over a hoodie, ignoring his existence in the room. "Apparently, they love these kinds of styles."
"I bet they do. Look at them going crazy over a pink hoodie." Jake derides, kicking Jungwon on the butt and chastising them for not even sparing him a glance when he popped up in the room.
"Sorry, didn't see you there hyung." Jungwon nonchalantly says, the other two temporarily paused and muttered an uninterested 'hello' before going back to their serious business of sorting outfits.
"Wow, really these guys." Jake sighs in displeasure, a grimace on his face as he watches the youngsters, "How long have they been at it?"
"About.." you trailed off, peeking at the time, "two hours now. It's getting kinda boring."
Jake pondered for a while, after a minute or two he turned to you and fished out his car keys, dangling it in front of you with a smirk on his face and hazel orbs full of mischief, "Whaddya think of a ride around town?"
You blinked at his spontaneous behavior, shrugging and pretending to think about the suggestion even if you already had an answer, "Sure. I mean, there's nothing much to do here."
Jake cheered and made a dash towards his car, mumbling something about revving it up and you have to come quick. You shook your head endearingly at his excited demeanor, truly like a puppy.
You went to follow him but not before telling the boys who are, until now, arguing over the mundane things about your souvenirs, "Y'all, I'm going out for a while. Look out for the house while I'm gone, and don't destroy anything while mom and dad are not here too."
You stood there for a while, observing their squabble, then you chose to drop the formalities since they're too centered in their own world to even give you the time of their day.
"No, I'm telling you, this is my size!"
"You're too puny for this, c'mon man, be serious."
"I ain't the size of your dick."
"Wha-! Say that again you fuckhead!"
Truly a pandemonium, you purse your lips and rubbed your forehead, shooting your parents a text about your whereabouts and leaving the house altogether because some children just won't listen.
Something scintillated within you when you saw Jake patiently waiting outside, leaning on his car and playing with his phone.
You took your time to extensively admire him, finally seeing him in a holistic perspective.
Him, standing there with his leather jacket, clad in an all black outfit down to his shoes. His charcoal tresses flowing the same way as the wind and oh, how he glows under the glittering rays of the afternoon sunlight is blinding you.
He's flawless.
"Yoi!" you snapped out of it when he called for you, opening the passenger door and motioning for you to get on.
You hurriedly went in, suspiciously not making eye contact, making you miss the knowing look he sent you. Now, you tried to relax, sitting on the leather seat but my god... his scent is so strong inside, it invades all of your senses, making your hands clammy.
Jake went and sat in the driver's seat, laughing when he saw you struggle to put on the seatbelt. He bent over to your side to help you out, brushing against your hand in the process.
"Your hands are sweaty." he remarked, then raised an eyebrow, "Are you.." he peeked at you from under his long hair, batting his lashes at you, "Nervous?"
Well that did the trick. You were caught red-handed and you’re not quite sure on what to or not to do, stumbling over your words to try and explain yourself.
"Hey, hey, calm down."
You took a deep breath. He's close, too close as he's still hunched over to you. Faces mere centimeters from each other but you need to be brave, gazing into his mellow eyes and feeling yourself settle when his hands enveloped yours, "It's just me, okay?"
"Right." you giggled nervously, "But no, I wasn't nervous. I was only out of it. You know, 'cuz I'm tired." you tried to play it cool like you weren't losing your mind just a few seconds ago.
He, at long last, moved away from you, letting go of your hand and starting to drive away.
"Really now?" he asked, a sly smirk on his lips but it was wiped off and was replaced with a pout when you, shockingly, flipped him off. (he did not expect you to do that, earning you a whiny "Since when have you been so violent?" from him.)
In your defense, flipping someone off is not a sign of violence, but rather an off-handed way of showing affection.
---------------------------------------------------
The trip went smoothly, you weren't anxious like a shivering chihuahua anymore, allowing you to appreciate the beauty of your hometown.
There were a lot of recently developed things.
New buildings, new attractions, and you even saw a glimpse of the upcoming jubilee; the stalls and decorations are a total giveaway.
"Woah, I was gone for a bit and changes like these happened already." you remarked, surprised at the amount of transformation in your settlement.
"Like they say, change is inevitable." he replies and you couldn't agree more. "By the way, can we go somewhere as our last destination?"
The sun was starting to set, the time for you to go home was getting close because your parents made you promise to join them for supper. But it's okay, one more location with Jake won't hurt.
So you agreed, letting him drive while you close your lids, enjoying the salty breeze from the ocean and letting the current of air brush your hair and skin, relishing in the serenity that you barely experience in the city.
After a few minutes, the vehicle went to a halt, hearing Jake murmur a small 'We're here.' made you open your eyes, and you were greeted by the familiar view.
"Oh my god, Jake!" you grinned, running towards the small, dinky wooden house that stood in the middle of the wild grasses and flowers. A rush of happiness flowing in your veins at seeing your 'secret base.'
You gasped when you entered, Jake following closely behind, you couldn't believe what you were seeing.
"Yeah," he bashfully puts his hands inside the pockets of his ripped jeans, biting his lips whilst he inspects your expression, "I took care of our secret base all this time. Corny, I know, but I really wanted to keep this in good condition."
He rambles and you listen, walking around the expanse of the room and true to his words, the four corners of the house are basically spotless. Despite the rust forming around the edges of the metals and a portion of the wood being eaten by some kind of insect, everything is still the same.
"Are you kidding me Jake?" you spun on your heels and ran to him, pulling him into a bear hug and burying your face in his chest, "This is like, the best thing that ever happened to me ever since I came back here!" you exclaimed, staring up at him gleefully.
He lets out a relieved sigh, returning your amity with the same fervor, "I'm glad, I thought I was way overboard with this."
"Pft. No way!" cue you trying to do his Australian accent, breaking the hug and proceeding to jovially push him away, "But genuine question here, why did you go all the way and take the job of being the caretaker for this supposedly tree house." you jokingly quoted the word 'tree house' with your fingers, making Jake hoot in laughter at the hidden agenda of your sentence.
"We really did our best to make this a tree house, unfortunately, we were too dumb to figure out how to build a damn house. Good thing your father is a good carpenter." he chuckles, recalling the memory of how and why the miniature flat was built.
"No, but really, the thing was.. I, ah fuck-" he runs a hand through his silky strands of inky locks, his ears turning red and your heartstrings were pulled by his adorable mien.
What your younger brother told you suddenly echoed in your brain, "Jake's a fuckboy now."
Yeah, he might be, considering the amount of girls that kept on clinging to him while he toured you around the metropolis. You saw a glimpse of it, his flirty persona, but right now, you firmly believe that he's still the same Jake that you knew.
Jake Sim, the guy who befriended you when no one else was willing to because apparently, you were a freak during your girlhood. The same guy who always protected you, stopped you from making poor life decisions that you'd probably regret sooner or later.
The same guy who took you to prom during your senior year, the one who gaped like a fish when he saw you all dressed up, a large grin on his face while he complimented you throughout the night nonstop. The one who never left your side and danced with you during the said event, not glancing at any other women's direction and focusing on you and only you until he couldn't take it anymore and kissed you on your front door.
Jake Sim, your first friend, first kiss, and inescapably, first love.
"Tell me." you urged him, cupping his face and staring right through his worries, "You can always be honest with me."
Jake visibly gulped, his hands moving on its own and engulfing yours that are planted on his cheeks.
"I wanted to preserve the memories." he admits, his eyes softening at your astonishment, "This was the place where we started our family, with our daughter Layla."
You snickered, "Layla.. how is our daughter doing?" you asked, suddenly curious about the adorable dog's whereabouts.
"So now you remember her?" Jake rolled his eyes, but still answered you nonetheless, "She's doing fine actually, she missed you a lot."
"She did?"
"Yeah, she missed you." the volume of his voice dropped, almost purring, raspy and feathery, tickling your insides, "Even her father missed you, if we're going to be blunt here."
"And who is the father?" you inquired, not noticing that Jake guided your hands towards his shoulders, his own palms gliding down your hips and gradually tugging you close to his body.
"Me, I'm the father."
You were too engrossed at the melodrama-like scene that you're starring in, not having the ability to discern that your faces are inching towards each other every ticking second.
*ring ring*
Like a wake up call, thanks to your phone, the two of you jolted and immediately separated, breathing heavily and thinking 'What the hell just happened?'
You answered your phone, your mom is getting dramatic because it's late and she's hungry, telling you to go back home right at this instant.
"Let's go, I'll drive you back." Jake's voice was distant, seeing that he's already outside, waiting for you to exit the house.
The journey back to your residence was a complete 180 of the atmosphere from when you both left. It was taciturn and morose, so much that it made you want to walk back home instead.
When he parked right outside your gates and you were about to offer him goodnight and farewell, he promptly gripped your wrist, preventing you from escaping the auto, "I'm sorry, back there, I.. I didn't know what came over me."
"No, no, it's fine. It was an accident." you say, but then you heard him mutter something, but you couldn't quite hear it. So you asked him to repeat himself.
"I said," he took a deep breath, "I want our friendship to be just like before. If that's okay with you."
You smiled, flicking his forehead as a way of telling him that everything is okay, "I would love that, you doofus."
---------------------------------------------------
Jake watches you enter your home before going off on his own apartment but not before stopping in an vacant road and banging his head repeatedly on the steering wheel.
That was so shitty and uncool of him.
Almost kissing his friend— his friend that has a boyfriend.
He sighs, shutting his eyes and repeating a mantra in his brain, 'Don't do that ever again.'
He barely managed to save the night, a poor attempt at that, thankfully, you're nice enough to let things pass and accept his proposition of rekindling what's supposed to stay in the past.
This is fine. It's foolish of him to think that he's something more to you. So he'll accept the fact that you'll always see him as your friend.
Even if he wants to love you, even if loving you is a complete necessity for him. He'll bury all of those, hidden in his box of filtered feelings and emotions, because once he lets go of his restraints, he'll lose you.
Dear lord no, the mere thought of losing you makes his stomach churn in a not so nice way, evoking the bile to rise in his throat.
Again, he convinces himself that he doesn't need anything else but to have you in his life.
"Jake, keep your shit together." he opens a compartment, looking intently at a bracelet made out of shells tucked safely in a clear glass box.
Wanting you was, is, and will always be more than enough.
---------------------------------------------------
Undeniably, your parents nagged you for being late to the family dinner, but you paid no mind to them, opting to eat your food at the speed of light and locking yourself in the privacy of your room, throwing your body on the comforts of your bed.
Once inside, you felt like you could breathe again, all the substandard smoke inhaled from earlier finally out of your lungs. You were dizzy from everything that happened today, and you want nothing more but to combust at the mixed emotions that are brewing up.
You almost kissed Jake, for fucks sake. The thing was, you liked the way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way h-
You gasped when your phone rang, guilt running through your whole system when the screen lit up with the words: 'Hoonie 🐧'
You took a deep breath, collecting yourself for a moment before grabbing your device and answering the video call with a giddy smile and shaky hands.
"There she is, my baby, the love of my life, my wife, m-"
"Hoonie!" you whined, cutting the voice off which made the person on the other line chuckle, his loving eyes glimmer when he saw you blush.
"What? Am I not allowed to shower my baby with love?"
You giggled, lying properly down the bed and lifting your arms up so your phone would be directly facing you, letting you admire the man that you proudly call yours.
"Of course you can. How's your practice over there?" you asked, wanting to know his life’s events.
"It's fun actually, I was really nervous at first but guess what, the coaches here in Canada are so nice and they taught me new techniques so I can improve further! And, the pancakes here are so fucking delicious." he's basically rapping, you think, but you still find yourself getting drowned by his voice, the way he excitedly tells you everything about his training camp in another country is endearing. Although, you frowned when he suddenly chips his rants off, a sad sigh escaping his lips.
"Why, what's wrong?" worry graced your expression, making him coo at how adorable you are.
"Nothing. I just wish you were here with me right now."
You watched him sit up from his own bed, leaning onto the wooden headboard and intently studying you, "I wish I could come home to you after practice, then we could cuddle and kiss.. and maybe eat some pancakes too."
You laughed at his unseriousness, really, he could say the most romantic words out there yet he'd still sprinkle it with his weird uncle humor. Well, that's one of the many reasons why you love him.
"You're crazy about those pancakes aren't you?" you watched him nod his head, his eyes crinkling as he probably feels pride swelling within him for making you laugh.
"I'm crazier about you though." he winked, a boyish grin on his lips and you couldn't help but kick your feet like a kindergarten student with a crush.
"Gosh! Now you're just making me miss you more!" you grumbled, lying sideways and hiding your maroon colored face in your pillows.
His melodic chuckles resound in your ears, and you peek at him when he softly, sweetly tells you that he misses you too, tons and lots.
"No but really, aside from dying on how much I want to hold you," you chuckle at his dramatic sentence, "one of the agendas here is because a little birdie told me that you don't want to go to your town fiesta."
You groaned, "I'm gonna tell mom that you called her a little birdie."
"Hey missy, no tattling allowed here." he clicked his tongue before continuing, "But no, it was Riki who told me. And, I think you should go because I heard that it's a special celebration in your town that only happens once a year. Besides, you can't let Riki run around there alone, what if he accidentally stabs himself with a spoon?"
This time, you groaned and whined, explaining to him the many reasons why you don't wanna go. It's hot, there's too many people, and Riki is old enough to handle himself. Really, like a child throwing a fit which made your boyfriend massage his temples, and as you were on your number five reason why you didn't wanna go, you halt when his voice dropped an octave on the other line.
"What if I give my princess a little something tonight if she decides to go?" he says, and something about his tone sends shivers down your spine, especially the way he called you 'princess.'
A pet name that he uses only for certain circumstances.
"What?" you asked dumbfounded, knowing the purpose behind his words but your brain is not fully processing the situation.
"You see, I can feel it when my princess is kind of frustrated.." something in his eyes darkened as he looked at you through the screen, one that shoots arrows down to your core, "because I am too, honestly haven't touched myself for days because it's never sufficient when it's not you."
You almost choked when he let out a deep moan, and you could see the muscles in his biceps moving and bulging. The sound of his sheets rustling is very much an obvious sign that he's starting to play with himself.
"Hoon- I.." you trailed off, rubbing your legs together to generate some relief, every second you hear a guttural groan from him the wetter you become.
Oh fuck, you two were just being lovey-dovey a while ago and now it's getting real nasty... and you're loving every single second of it.
"Yes princess?" he says huskily, looking at you with hooded eyes, waiting for you to speak up.
"Help me, please." you pathetically whimpered, snaking a hand down and inside your shorts and underwear, instantly feeling the sticky juices of your pussy.
"Sadly princess, I can only do that when you say yes to the proposal, yeah?" he replied, tone webbed with feigned sympathy as he smickered at your helplessness.
Your eyes slammed shut, legs twitching and your core in desperate need of release, "Fine!" you concede, taking a deep breath when you heard your boyfriend's triumphant chuckle over the line, "Can you please just-"
"Now, now," the man uttered, biting his lower lip to keep himself from tittering at your desperate demeanor, "listen to me well and do everything as I say, okay?"
You nodded your head as an affirmation, impatiently gathering your wetness that was pooling in your heat, lathering them all over your labia.
"That's my good princess, now can you touch your clit for me?" he instructs, his heavy breathing echoing in your brain as you do what he said. A light moan escaping your lips when your finger nudges your bundle of nerves.
"Circle them around, honey, write my name on that pussy." your lover on the other line shudders at the thought of spelling his name on your glistening part, he'll definitely do it himself the next time he sees you.
"Ah! H-hoonie, need more." you cried out, keeping your voice at minimum so the other occupants of the house won't hear what's going on inside your room. "Please, I need more." you continued whining, writing every syllable of his name on your clit, an unspoken proof of him owning you.
At this point, you're having a hard time maintaining the grip on your phone, forcing yourself to look into the camera, resigned pupils begging for your boyfriend to do something. And when he did say to plunge two fingers in, you immediately obeyed, curling it into your g-spot, imagining it was his deft digits that are pleasuring you, it had you writhing around your sheets, but it's not sufficient. Not adequate to send you to the edge.
You fucking need him. You need Park Sunghoon himself.
"I-I can't Sunghoon, this is not enough I-"
"No baby, you can and you will." he rasped, and you can barely hear him stroking himself rather harshly, surely he's also imagining your soft, small hands on his cock as he works himself into his orgasm. "Let go princess, cum all over your fingers and I'll make sure that a grand prize awaits you."
You gasped, reaching euphoria with his encouragement, along with his insanely attractive groans while releasing his load into his hand. You moaned his name wantonly until you're panting and the only thing that you could think of is him, and the said award that you'll get when you see him after the summer break.
Your phone slipped from your grasp, exhaustion seeping in and you don't wanna move anymore. You'll clean yourself up tomorrow, opting to listen to the praises that your boyfriend is giving you, finally sleeping with a satisfied smile when you hear the words that will forever make the zoo in your stomach crazy.
"I love you, my Y/N."
---------------------------------------------------
Giving in to your boyfriend made you lament, and as much as you want to hate him for compelling you agree to this stupid festival, you couldn't bring yourself to do it because apparently, your bouncy brat of a brother who entered your bedroom in the wee hours of the morning (10 am) and his joyful celebration of you coming to the stupid event was enough to make you think that yeah, accepting that proffer may be worth it.
Still, you weren't prepared for it. You only packed the essential clothes necessary for the entire summer break. And it did not include any extravagant, shiny dresses or outfits that are suitable for parties.
Thus, that is how you found yourself walking down the cemented pavement to go to the nearest clothing store after having your not so peaceful brunch. With your brother and his friends going off about how amazing the night party at the beach for the festival would be, you couldn't help but listen to them yap.
You yelped when a car stopped beside you, and you were so ready to dash off or scream if some masked man tried to kidnap you. The familiar black tint of the vehicle made you stop and rethink the overreaction that you're about to pull, then the window of the driver's seat rolled down, revealing none other than Jake himself.
"A pretty lady walking under the sun without an umbrella at like," he paused to look at the imaginary watch on his wrist, "one pm, that's uncanny."
You scoffed, crossing your arms, "The only uncanny thing here is that," you pointed at his face, squinting playfully "wearing sunglasses inside a car, what kind of idiot does that?"
"Hey! This is for fashion!" he yelled, offended at your snide remark, completely forgetting the character he's in. "Anyways, get in. Where are you even going?"
He gets out of his car, opening the passenger seat for you and signaling for you to enter. He stands there patiently, waiting for you to move even though he was clearly upset at your joke, evident by the pout on his lips. You couldn't help but smile, flowers blooming in your chest with how sweet he is.
You amicably walked in his direction, pinching in his cheeks, "You're spectacular in those sunglasses. Now let's go to some clothing store because I have to prepare shit."
While getting yourself comfortable inside his car, you saw him fight back a smile at your compliment, his pronounced cheekbones failing to hide his grin at the last moment.
The drive resumed without a hitch with you explaining the reason for your impromptu trip, and being extra, he just had to go to the mall because, and you quote, "The mall has more options, don't be such a grinch about it." end of quote.
Now, you're having regrets part two of today's adventure because how on earth are you supposed to act when two elderly couples have mistaken Jake as your boyfriend? And he was so casual about it! He could at least act a little flustered because you were always caught off guard!
What does that make you?!
"You don't have to be so shy about it." he pokes fun at you, dragging you around the mall after telling you that he knows a good store that sells really pretty clothes.
"I am by no means shy. I was just surprised that's all, and h-"
"Here we are!" he exclaims, cutting your sentence short when he pushes you inside the shop.
The bell rang, indicating your arrival and you could hear a faint 'Welcome' from the back, probably the only employee for the day, considering the small space of the clothing store.
The ambience inside is nice, the interior was giving Parisian vibes, but you couldn't admire the place for long when Jake shoved a bunch of clothes in your face.
"Here, try some of this on and let me see." he says with an eager smile, you just have to bring out the full potential of your neocortex and thalamus and you'll be able to see his wagging tail.
"You mean I have to model you these?" you raised an eyebrow, entering a dressing room and burrowing through the clothes, picking only the ones that caught your eye, shaking your head when you heard Jake shout about him being the fashion king of your town.
The first outfit was a simple plaid red skirt and black long sleeve top, to which Jake said that it looks like you're going to a painting class.. it was a no.
Second outfit was a drag, he says, black sleeveless overall that you paired with a white crop top. Certainly, you'll have to remove the entire fabric if you want to pee, which is a good point.
You are now slightly fuming, wanting this shit to end, not until you saw an appealing, off shoulder white dress with golden linings on it. The subtle floral pattern embedded adds to its beauty and you think, yeah, maybe this is the one.
You threw it on without much thought, exiting the fitting room and showing it to your friend who was checking the prices of some of the clothes, "What do you think?"
Jake turned around from where he was standing, and it seems that time has been possessed by a turtle. His eyes widened, raking in your appearance and etching it into his brain, never to consign into oblivion.
Now, Jake is a devoted Christian. He goes to church to pray, thanking God for all of the blessings he has received in his life. He heard the pastor describe heaven and angels, and as a child, he thought that he'll only see that in the afterlife. Never would he expect that he'll experience nirvana and see a spiritual being whilst alive, all in the shape of you.
He was so mesmerized by you that he didn't even realize you were talking, repeating your question from before. Then his small sphere broke when an unfamiliar voice spoke.
"I think you look great in it, ma'am."
"Oh! Uh-I, thank you..?" you trailed off, looking at the boy's name tag, "Yeonjun?"
"Yeps! That's me!" the black haired man chirps, "Well then, are you getting that? Which I think you should because it really suits you."
You put a hand over your chest, thanking the employee before excusing yourself so that you can return in your previous clothes and pay for the dress.
Meanwhile, Jake was stupefied. He didn't get a word in and he was about to shower you with compliments! He scowled at the tall boy standing in the corner, and when he felt the menacing glare of the aussie, he raised his hands up in surrender.
"I'm sorry man, had to speak to her because you were acting like a statue earlier." Yeonjun explains, but the smirk on his face didn't sit well with Jake.
"Where do I pay?" you appeared out of nowhere, the dress hanging on your arms, effectively breaking the tension between the two men.
"Right this way, ma'am." Yeonjun gladly guides you to the cashier area, giving you a flattering grin while he punches the price of the outfit. Before he could say another word, you felt a strong arm wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards a sturdy body and a black card being dropped in front of the worker.
"I'll pay for it, no buts." Jake's authoritative behavior took you by surprise, thinking real hard on what made him act like this.
You discreetly looked at him, and my god were you blown away by how.. hot he looks when mad?
Wait a minute.. is he?
You heave when you're suddenly hauled out of the store, too busy in your own daydream to actually notice that he's done paying, gruffly grabbing the paper bag from the counter and storming out like an emotional old lady in a telenovela.
"Hold up, Jake!" you forcefully remove your hand on his own, sizing up his weird attitude before asking him what's up, and why the fuck is he upset out of the blue.
He faced the other direction, tuning in on him as he murmured under his breath, and you think you heard some curses like 'motherfucker' and 'cunt' and you had to compose yourself, or else you'll have no choice but to slap him silly for acting so tiresome in the middle of a jam-packed mall.
You sighed, putting your hands on your hips, a stance that mothers use when they're drained of their child's tantrum, "My fucking god, Jake, if you don't tell me what's wrong I'll leave you right here at this instant."
"That cashier sucks!" he bellowed, turning on his feet to face you with a frown, "He thinks he's a hotshot just because he's tall and he's muscular but argh!" he threw his hands up in the air, now sporting a petulant expression whilst crossing his arms over his chest.
"I get it." you giggled, raising an eyebrow at him that had him further frustrated, "You're jealous because he's handsome?"
"Yada yada," he rolls his eyes at your antics, not accepting such despicable reasons, "I'm a walking disney prince, he's no match for me."
"Alright, calm down Jakey." you laugh heartily, finding his baby girl stance absolutely precious, "Get that frown out of your face, you'll get wrinkles!" you went closer to him, brushing your hands all over his face to emphasize your point, not stopping until you saw a glimpse of a smile on his lips. And when you're content, you link arms with him, looking for the nearest ice cream shop, your treat, to cheer him up.
After ordering and settling down in Baskin Robbins, (the only ice cream shop in the mall), you excused yourself for a while. Going to a mini stall that you passed by a while ago to buy a certain necklace.
A silver necklace with the initials 'J' on it. You already made up your mind on purchasing it, a small gift for your friend. Staring at the jewelry now, you know that the adornment will shine on Jake the best.
You smile fondly, silver suits him, you think. Elegant and sophisticated, and the miniscule topaz stone in the letter that represents his name is the selling point for you, truly a necklace made for him.
After thanking the owner of the stall, you returned to the ice cream shop with a pep in your step, but your jolly attitude died down when you saw Jake with a girl at your table. And it appears that he’s enjoying the conversation with the pretty woman.
'Well, fuck that, I ain't going back there when he's having so much fun without me.'
Your seething aura seemed to reach Jake, shivers running down his spine and his eyes were immediately drawn to the side, orbs widening in alarm when he saw you glowering.
Jake thought that the scariest moment of his life was when he was walking Layla early in the morning, and his dog choked on a piece of bone that was lying around in the neighbourhood, but as of now, he begs to differ.
His fear was audible in all ways, the girl in front of him noticed, making her follow what he was so riveting on and shit, that made you rage even more because it's fucking Kim Chaewon.
The girl who made your childhood a living hell. Your personal bully, the same girl who destroyed the sandcastle you built on the beach at the tender age of 6, the one who took everything away from you, the main cause of your departure in your hometown.
You felt so betrayed, the one person you thought she couldn't snatch from you, right in front of your eyes, was stolen.
You tried not to be affected by the scene, but you couldn't help the tears that pricked into the corner of your eyes when Chaewon smirked at you, and you'll be damned if you let yourself cry in her presence.
You turned on your heels, walking away and ready to commute back home but not before shooting Jake a disappointed look, ignoring his panicked expression.
Jake felt dread, guilt dropping down on his stomach when he saw hurt in your eyes, what's worse is that he's the cause of it.
He stood up right away, ready to follow you and explain the situation. That it wasn't what it looked like. He was about to take off, then he felt a hand grapple his wrist, a coy countenance can be seen on the culprit.
"You're seriously going after her?" Chaewon inquired, a mocking laugh escaped her lips, "What are you even gonna say?"
Jake retrieved his hand in a ruthless manner, sneering at the girl, "That nothing is happening here, she got it all wrong."
"Nothing?" she leered, batting her eyelashes like some bratz doll, "So fucking with me while she's gone and avoiding me when she’s here were nothing?"
"Listen here Chaewon," Jake aggressively leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth with a venom laced tone, "you do not say a word to Y/N, or else." then he left, running in the same direction that you took, making the blonde girl scoff.
Chaewon grimaced at the two cups of unfinished ice cream, setting her elbows on top of the wooden table and stagily resting her chin on her laced fingers, her attention stockpiling at a certain paper bag that's sitting on the left side of the comfy booth.
Scheme and trouble are her capital when it comes to instigations, "Game on, Sim Jaeyun."
---------------------------------------------------
"Y/N! Wait up, please, let me explain!"
You were well aware of Jake's pleads which made you walk faster, unfortunately, races like this meant that the one who has the longer limbs wins, and that wasn't you.
Jake caught up to you in no time, forcefully pulling you into his arms and enveloping you into a tight embrace, not letting you go even if you fight and hit him, accepting all of the profanities that you throw at him, he deserves that much.
It feels like you're in some k-drama. Getting back hugged by your childhood friend in a place where people are nowhere to be found, the skies turning into shades of gray and black, and frankly, you're getting tired of struggling knowing that you already lost the fight since he's so much stronger than you.
When he felt you go limp in his hold, he slowly turned you around so that he could examine you properly, a miscalculation on his part because seeing you in such a defeated state made him want to bury himself six feet under the ground until he's sure that he's paid the damages he had caused you.
"Y/N, please just one chance," he cupped your face, peering at you with such beseech, "please hear me out."
When you didn't speak, he took that as a chance to elaborate his case.
"I know it's wrong of me to interact with her, but she suddenly sat down in front of me. She caught me off guard and I was about to tell her off."
You let out a scornful laugh, pushing him away from you, "So you're saying that she's about to leave?"
He nodded, hope skirting his features but you wiped it all off with your next sentence, "Then why do you need to be so friendly with her, huh?!"
"I don’t want to make a scene there, Y/N. I have t-"
You raised a hand to stop him from saying more, having heard enough of his bullshit for the day, "Cut the crap, Jake, just- give me some time to think about.. t-this." your voice cracked in the middle and the sound reverberated through Jake's heart.
Watching you turn your back away was the hardest shit that Jake has to endure, especially since you're only a hair's breadth from his grasp.
Jake runs his hands over his face, attempting to rub the moisture away.
He has to fix this- No, he will fucking fix this even if it means that he has to go from heaven to hell.
---------------------------------------------------
You went home with a heavy feeling in your chest, ignoring the questions from your family and skipping dinner, (which is a big deal because your mother cooked your favorite food) since you don't have the appetite to join them for a delicious meal. You're tired, and all you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep in the comforts of your mattress.
You dropped your body in the cotton sheets after washing up, dressing yourself in a simple tee and shorts.
It was eerily quiet, then the horrid memories that you clobbered in the back of your head started to swim back into the surface, your hands automatically went to your hair, gripping it hard as you choked back a sob.
A stuck gum in your precious, long hair that had caused you to cut it short, which made your classmates call you a tomboy.
Your artwork that was destroyed because this jealous girl just had to spray some black paint on it, causing you to lose a painting competition.
That one time when you had a crush on this guy named Soobin, but then he rejected you when you confessed because a certain someone made rumors about you wanting to have sex with him wherein reality, you only wanted to have a date with him.
Being called to the principal's office because you were accused of cheating during finals, which you never did but for some reason, 'evidence' of your wrongdoings appeared, and you lost the chance to become the class valedictorian.
The root of all these shitty things that you experienced: Kim Chaewon.
All the pent up humiliation and anger were released. The thought of Jake, the person who was supposed to be your shield from the disarray being involved with the person that you disliked, no, hate the most is killing you inside and out.
You sniffed, shutting your eyes and letting the tears flow freely as you clutched your pillow close to your chest. How you wished for your boyfriend to save you from this dark hole that swallowed you once more.
"Sunghoon, I need you here please."
---------------------------------------------------
You were rudely awakened by the repeated taps on the glass, a suspicious silhouette moving around the see-through curtain. You observed the shadow for a while until you decided to take action.
You sit up, quietly grabbing a lamp on the bedside table and cautiously tiptoeing towards the window, you slightly jumped when the intruder knocked again.
You took a deep breath, raising the lamp on your left hand and slowly pulling the curtains to the side. You yelped when you were met with Jake's face pressed onto the glass of the window, clad in an all black outfit and you had to physically stop yourself from laughing with how hysterical he looks.
"Jake?! What the fuck?!" you whisper-yelled, putting the lamp down on your dresser and quickly unlocking the window, ushering him to get in before someone sees him and calls the police.
"What are you doing here?! And in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea that people might see and talk about this?!"
"I have ice cream. You didn't get to eat yours today." he shoves a plastic bag in your face, not minding your words as he huffs and puffs, probably out of breath since he had to climb the tree behind your house and go over the roof so he could slink into your bedroom.
Yes, because life is not that easy and clichéd that a tree would be conveniently placed right in front of your window on the second floor of your home. Jake has to work for it.
"I don't want it." you uttered, trudging towards your door and opening it, beckoning your head downstairs, "Please leave, I'll be nice enough to escort you out."
You weren't looking at him, you don't have it in you to take him in because you're weak. You're not strong enough to stay mad at him, you know that one gaze into his starry eyes and you're gone, and you couldn't afford to do that.
Still, you should've checked at least once because hearing the plastic being dropped on some furniture and his incoming footsteps made you assume that he's done, that he's leaving, which was not the case.
A surprised gasp left you when Jake's hand grasped yours that was holding the knob, closing the door with a slight thud and he easily towers over you. An uncharacteristic intensity in his usually warm sepia orbs made your knees buckle, your heart rate speeding up when you realized that his masculine body had you trapped. Most importantly, his musky perfume makes you dizzy, clouding your ability to make sound judgment.
"I came here to see you, so no, I'll politely decline the offer of me leaving so soon." he murmurs, his hot breath cascading down your cheeks, and you got even more flustered when his free hand gripped your chin, leniently guiding your vision towards him.
"Please, Y/N, baby. Will you listen to what happened earlier?" he rasps, earnestly peeking into your own eyes as he searches for an answer that he desperately needed.
You'll condemn his perfume, his minty breath, his insanely attractive voice, and the sudden romantic ambience of the room. You'll inculpate anything at this point except your fragile self, because is it supposed to be your fault if Jake has the ability to render you defenseless against his overwhelming power over you?
A shaky sigh escapes you, nodding your head absentmindedly. The pet name surely had an effect on you, to which you could only describe as a grand circus playing around your whole nervous system.
"Jake.."
"There is nothing going on between me and that bitch, okay? I only care about you," he pulls your interconnected hands from the knob, bringing it to his lips and gently pecks your knuckles, "I'll drop anything just to be by your side, you know that right?"
"Please baby, I'm so sorry. I will never get in touch with her ever again. I'm so fucking sorry, I don't- I hate it when you cry, I hate it when you're sad. Please let me make it up to you. Please let me show you how much you mean to me."
You're not an impulsive person, as you'd like to believe, you tend to think first before doing something that you might regret in the future, but as of now, none of that matters.
For once in your life, you took the initiative, connecting your lips with Jake's, pouring all of your feelings in one emotional kiss. He wasted no time in returning it, turning his face sideways to deepen the liplock.
So this is what it felt like to kiss your plush, glossy lips. This is what it felt like to hold you in a way that is more than just some fucking friends.
This is what it feels like to have you. Intoxicating, addicting, and astronomically out of his wildest dreams.
Jake was brought back to reality when he felt you suck on his lower lip, opening his eyes in a haste and pulling away from you.
"I don't think we should d-" he starts, but you hush him by placing your index finger above his lips.
This is.. wrong. You are in a relationship, right? You two shouldn't be doing this.
"Jake," you whisper his name with such mirth, "show me how much I mean to you.. please."
That was the last thing Jake needed, throwing out whatever rationality remained in his brain in exchange for the yearning that he desired for so many years.
He groaned when you willingly opened your mouth for him, allowing him to slip his tongue in, licking every corner of your cavern. You let his wet appendage graze your teeth before moving your own to clash with his. Both are battling for dominance in this erratic exchange of saliva which he inarguably won, and you couldn't keep your moans at bay when he sucked on your tongue.
Pressing his lips into yours once more, a heated make-out ensues with him leading the way, wrapping his arms around your waist and compressing you between his body and the door, wanting to lessen the distance. He wanted more, he needed more, and he sure as hell will make the most out of this.
He'll act as a clueless villain if it means that he'll be able to steal the most precious gemstone that's already owned by someone.
But who fucking cares?
How could one say that it's wrong when everything feels so right? No one is qualified to dictate shit when the pieces of the decimated past are starting to recoup themselves, turning into a masterpiece called a forbidden tryst.
"Keep it down baby, don't want your parents to barge in here don't we?" he muttered against your lips, head moving to your clavicle and you instinctively craned your neck to the side, giving him the permission to paint you with the most colorful hues of blue and purple.
Jake breathes through his nose, inhaling your rousing vanilla and strawberry fragrance. This is what he's ever dreamed of. You, in his arms, marking you as his and only his.
One rainy day, he woke up only to realize that he wanted to be the man to make you happy. He wanted to cook meals with you, travel around the world, take candid photos of you and set it as his wallpaper. He wanted to be the person that you'll meet at the end of the church aisle.
The recollection of when it started was totally blurry.
Was it when you cried over that dimpled man back during 8th grade? Or was it when he saw you in your ball gown for prom? He has no idea, but he does know that he's prepared to give and let go of everything just for you.
Jake clutches on your waist even tighter, nuzzling his nose in the nook of your neck and leaving lightweight kisses up to your mastoid. He smiled when he heard you giggle, biting your ear lobe teasingly, "Still ticklish I see."
You poked his side in retaliation, making him jump and shriek a bit, "So are you."
"Why you little-!" Jake carried you like a sack of potatoes, dropping you on the cushions haphazardly yet you felt his palm on the back of your head, acting as an insulation so the impact won't hurt you.
"You'll be sorry for that." he says with a smirk, wedging himself in between your legs, and before you could reply, he kissed you deeply, proceeding to attack your neck with pecks and bites, sucking in the spot that had you gripping his hair.
His hand started to explore your body, tracing your shape and going inside your shirt, stopping right under your boobs. Jake lifted himself off, his eyes speaking for himself, silently asking for consent if it's alright to remove your clothes.
You nodded and started peeling off the shirt, the fabric getting comically stuck on your forehead (that's what you get for wearing clothes from your junior high days). You both laughed at the witless situation, and despite all that, you felt him help you out of the predicament but not without leaving a kiss on the exposed lower half of your face.
When the shirt is finally out of the way, you hastily remove your shorts as well, leaving you in nothing but a pair of panties because yes, you did not put on a bra, finding it ridiculous to wear one inside your own house.
You suddenly felt conscious when you noticed that Jake was unmoving and you found yourself covering your upper body, a movement that made the boy snap out of his daze.
"No, baby don't cover up," he grins sweetly at you, gulping down his nerves, "sorry, you're gorgeous, I can't help but admire."
You bit your lower lip, glancing at him and tugging at his own clothes, "Then be fair, give me something to admire too." you shyly said, avoiding eye contact when you saw him grin.
Jake instantly shrugged every piece of his attire, baring his all to you, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets because what the hell?
Of course you knew he was well built, his fitted outfits leave nothing to the imagination at times, but fuck you to the moon and back, you did not expect him to be this muscular. He has abs! For goodness sake, you weren't prepared, and it shows since Jake has to boop you in the nose to get you out of your daydream.
"I know the view is amazing," he gently laid you down, positioning himself on top of you, "but tonight is all about you, darling."
He pulled you in for another solid minute of make-out session, this time though, he touches you with more vehemence. Snaking his hand on your chest, gripping your left boob and lowering his head down to give the other the rightful attention it deserves.
You moaned his name when he suckled on your nipple, tongue circling around the areola and occasionally biting to add more to the sensation. He used his fingers to twitch and pull on the other nipple, his other hand trailing over your stomach, down to the navel until it reached your heat. He experimentally dipped a finger, gathering your juices and groaning at how wet you are for him.
"Baby, you're dripping and I've only done the bare minimum." he mutters, releasing your nipple with a pop and staring down at you with desire written all over his features, "You really want me that bad?"
"Yes Jake," you answered without any hint of doubt, "I want you, please, do something." you begged, and who was he to say no to his beautiful baby.
"Your wish is my command, princess." he grinned, going into full action as he slid down, coming face to face with your core.
Princess.
There was only one person who called you that. It should hit you by now that this is taboo... but it's just one night.
After this, you'll move on and act like nothing happened. Isn't it?
You weren't able to delve deeper into your thoughts when you felt a finger inside your pussy, a warm mouth lapping at your wetness and sucking on your clit harshly. Your back arches when another digit goes inside you, going at a moderate yet wonderful pace every time it curls and hits a spot that has you curling your toes.
"Right there!" you moaned, getting closer to your orgasm, Jake sensing this made adjustments to his ministrations, basically going into feral mode. His deft fingers pumped in and out of you vigorously, his sucking, add to that the small nips in your bundle of nerves are getting too much for you to handle.
"Cum for me." he uttered, and the mini encouragement and vibration from his voice had you undone within a few seconds. Gushing into his face which he happily guzzled on, not stopping until you told him to stop, sensitive from the overstimulation.
He went up to your face and you could see the shiny slick on his lips, "That felt good?"
You smile, pulling him in for a kiss, tasting yourself in his tongue, "Very much, but what about you?"
"Baby, didn't I tell you that tonight's all about you?" he shakes his head, using his own limbs to spread your thighs open, allowing him to slot himself in the middle, goosebumps rising on your skin when you feel his tip prod at your entrance.
"Then what are you waiting for?" you taunt, wrapping your legs around his waist, pressing him closer to your soaking cunt. "Take me, Jake."
You really have a way with words or maybe you have this effect on him like magic, whenever you talk, all he could think about is making you his.
Inch by inch, he inserted his big, fat cock inside you and you know, because you feel it. The way he stretches you out just the right way, the vein on the side of his dick pulses every time you clenched on him, and when he finally bottomed in, you both let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding.
Jake grits his teeth, putting the tip in and he thinks he's crazy because it's just the head but your pussy is sucking him all in and it almost made him cum.
He calmed himself down, if he's intending to pleasure you as much as he could, he's sure as hell to make himself last longer than usual.
He lets you adjust to his length, taking in a slow pace when you whisper for him to move. Gently rocking his hips into yours, making sure that he wasn't hurting you in any sort.
Then you begged for him to move faster, harder, truly, you're making this more difficult than it's supposed to be. He could hardly contain himself, but the more you egged him on, the more he let loose.
"Ah!" you cried out when Jake did a rather ruthless thrust, his tip hitting your cervix deliciously and it was getting him drunk off of you. He got a taste of you, and it'll be difficult to stop. He rammed into you mercilessly, the creaking of the bed was the least of your concerns now as you're more focused on the delightful feeling he's giving you, unconsciously scratching his back.
Jake hisses at the pain, but it motivated him to no end, knowing that you love what he's doing to you right now. Knowing that the reason you're acting like this is because he's doing you, as of the moment.
Your warm, wet walls hugged his cock so nicely that it made him believe that your pussy is made for him. Truly, every time he pushes in, you get tighter and it feels like paradise.
Nothing matters but the hushed moans of his name on your lips, he doesn't care about anything other than how good you feel.
You weren't in a good condition either, you're losing grasp of what's real, drooling mindlessly at the delight you're receiving. The man on top of you gives it his all, fucking you with all his strength as his length hits all the perfect spots inside you, making your eyes roll and see stars at the back of your brain.
Jake really tried to hold on, but your sudden release made your walls squeeze his cock, a low groan coming out of him as he cursed and complimented you on how well you're doing for him.
"Baby, I'm close." he warned you, sweat forming on his forehead and dripping down to your cheeks, and he finds it so hot when you dart your tongue out to lick the salty substance away.
"Inside, Jake. Please come inside me."
"Are you sure?" he slowed down a bit, peering into your eyes for confirmation.
Then you cupped his face, smiling at him lovingly, "Yes, I trust you."
That was all it took for him to release his seed inside you, thrusting shallowly to ride out his high until he collapsed on top of you, rolling over and slipping out of your walls when you halfheartedly complained about how heavy he is.
He finally did it.
Jake felt like a champion, one chance was enough for him and he's thanking all of the deities out there internally for giving him the opportunity to show you the love he's been meaning to shower you with.
He felt his body stiffen when you laid your head on his chest, telling him to stay, but what terrified him the most was when he listened to your request and naturally wrapped his arms around you.
Jake focused on you, combing your hair using his fingers as he watches you drift into dreamland.
You look ethereal like this, glowing under the dim light of the street lamps outside and how he wishes for you to continue being with him like this until you're grey and old.
He'll slip out of bed later, (couldn't risk getting caught by your family in the morning), and write you a note to make sure that you won't feel like shit when you wake up. For now, he'll relish in the blanket of your warmth and even breathing.
The boy sighs, his hand moving to your back, fingers lightly tracing his name over your smooth skin, 'J A K E '
---------------------------------------------------
It was supposed to be a one-time thing, but then Jake finds himself in your window again the next night, and you let him in every single time. The moment he steps inside your room, no more pretending, straight to kisses and you getting railed into your mattress.
It was like a routine you both fell into, but as much as the guilt gnaws on your conscience, it was too good to let go. A drug you couldn't get enough of, you both have fallen into this wild goose chase but it's very much late to back out.
That's what happens behind closed doors when the moon shines, the strenuous task begins during the day.
Seriously, how are you guys supposed to act in front of your family and friends when there is 'something' going on.
It was exhilarating though. Sneaking knowing glances across the room, sometimes with a matching wink, the subtle thigh touching, following each other into a room without any people just to steal smooches.
It was all fun and games until someone had to make the situation even more arduous, courtesy of your brother whining about going to the beach without your parents aka friendly bonding.
It should be easy, acting like normal best friends and playing around in the water but noo, of course even a simple hang-out would turn into a battle of 'the first one to gape like a fish loses.'
By all accounts, it never crossed Jake's mind that you'd be daring enough to wear a swimsuit that shows a lot of skin, because you're usually a conservative little girl. So he was astonished when you exited the changing room, sporting the sexiest red two-piece, shaking his head in disbelief when you discreetly threw a smirk on his way.
He knew you were playing a game, displaying your ass for him, swaying your hips while walking towards the chosen spot for today's hang-out.
Jungwon whistled, Sunoo made a surprised pikachu face, and Riki paid little to no attention to you when you sat down on the blanket with them, under a big umbrella that you rented out shielding you from the scorching sun.
"Is this what the city air does? I dig it." Jungwon says, giggling when Riki hollered in disgust, side-eyeing you before making a comment about how he'll smack Jungwon in the head if he remotely said anything like that again.
Jungwon raised his hands up in defense, looking over Sunoo's direction for assistance, "I was complimenting her! Help me out here, man."
Sunoo raised an eyebrow, doing his infamous googly eyes at his friend, "You did sound like a pervert there but yes, I'll agree that Y/N looks great." he turned to you and gave you a thumbs up, to which you returned with finger guns.
Jake quietly nursed his bottle of cold beer, not participating in the conversation until the three stooges pointed it out.
"Yoi, one beer is all it takes for you to go mute?" Jungwon mused, Riki followed up with the teasing, saying that maybe Jake hasn't been getting laid, thus, the cranky disposition.
"Wha-! No, lemme tell you that I've been getting it so well nowadays." he defended himself, but not without giving you an inconspicuous glance.
"I don't wanna hear your sexcapades," Sunoo stood up, pointing at the ocean excitedly, "I think it's time to play, no?"
The other boys agreed except for you, telling them that you want to take a look of the scenery first before joining them in the water.
"You sure?" Jake asked, and you gave him the positive signal and he shrugged, "Suit yourself."
It was his turn to make you flustered.
Now, you have seen the guy naked, but it was during lights out, not in broad daylight, so the gulping that you did was unplanned. Staring at him while he removed his plain tee, bearing his toned muscles and abs for you to ogle at.
You glared at him when he threw a smug look in your direction, thanking the gods that the other younger boys were oblivious as fuck, mainly, their priority was the race to the water because the loser will buy them milkshakes later.
"What are you playing at Jake?" you questioned, standing up from your seat and doing your very best to look at him square in the eye, forcing yourself not to look down.
"Baby," he says, walking closer to you, licking his lips when he focuses on your cleavage, "you started this didn't you? Make sure to finish it then."
You weren't able to utter another word when he walked away and joined the others in the sea like nothing even happened, like he didn't make your heart race with exhilaration.
You huffed, turning on your heels to ambulate around the area, unaware of Jake's predatory gaze on you.
You watched the soles of your feet sink into the sand, leaving footprints behind, your brain contemplating the whole scenario that is sure to bring a storm into the fragile house made of cards. Starting from when you and Jake began this.. affair. Then your thoughts drifted to Sunghoon, you mowed at the unearthly concept, your conscience punching you in the face.
Your boyfriend is probably out there, tiring himself out during practice, doing his best to improve his skating skills so he could show off and make you proud when he wins all the gold medals for his competitions. While you're here, doing the unimaginable with a man that is supposed to be just a friend.
You paused, hugging yourself as some kind of comfort. Maybe you missed Sunghoon so much that you unconsciously went and found some kind of intimacy, any kind of affection that will satisfy you while you're away from your lover.
Will you really put the blame on that? Yes, it's pathetic but you have already crossed an unforbidden threshold, a thorny one that bleeds you dry but the more you drown in it, the more you get hooked.
You shook your head, trying to get a clear vision of how this is supposed to end, too lost in your own thoughts that you didn't notice a pair that was trudging towards you, that is until their voices startled you out of your reverie.
"Uh yes? How may I help you?" you inquired cautiously, looking around just in case, and you felt stupid for not covering up because you can definitely feel their stares on your exposed skin.
"Relax pretty, we won't hurt you." the guy with a mullet spoke, smirking at you, the taller boy beside him nodded before adding a statement in.
"We noticed that you're alone, it's kind of dangerous here you know?"
"I'm a local, I know my way around here." you replied in a monotonous tone, letting them know that you're not interested in whatever they want to do with you.
"If you're a local," the mullet boy came closer to you, invading your personal space which made you frown and back up, "then how come that your face is not familiar?"
You took a deep breath, getting ready to shut them down when a towel was draped around you, a protective arm slinging on your shoulder and pulling you into a cast-iron body.
"Because she's keen on keeping her privacy, to avoid harrowing guys like you."
You'd recognize that voice anywhere, but you were surprised to hear such menacing articulation from him, very different from the usual sugary one that he always uses.
"Well hello to you too, Jake." the taller guy with brown hair greeted the aussie, a friendly smile on his face yet his passive-aggressive tone threw his calm demeanor away.
"Hello, EJ and Nicholas, didn't expect to see you here." Jake responds, matching the taunting attitude of the duo.
You clung to Jake, not minding the droplets of water if it means that you'll feel protected.
"Oh, is this your new bitch?" the one called Nicholas laughed, giving an amused applause and a low whistle, "You really have great taste, Sim."
You heard a low growl erupting from Jake's chest, his muscles tensing and you saw how he clenched his fist, getting ready to throw a punch if the need arises, "Don't you fucking disrespect my girl."
"Ah!" the ponyo look-alike named EJ mused, like a lightbulb went off in his brain, "Your girl? She's your girlfriend?"
"No way!" Nicholas sniggers, a surprise etched on his face, not believing what he was hearing, "A fuck boy like you settling down with a girl like her? That's some fucking news man."
One moment Jake was beside you, then he was gone, launching a full blown strike into Nicholas's face, and putting your scouts honor on the line, you’re sure heard something crack.
"Jake!" you cried out, fear creeping into you as you tried to simmer Jake down.
"A girl like her? A girl like her?! Fucking asshole, take that back!" Jake yells, about to attack the other man again but a divine intervention transpired, namely your brother and friends who came to the rescue.
They noticed that you two were gone for a while now, and thank god they decided to hunt for you both or something very bad might have happened.
"Oh my! Hey! Hyung, calm down!" Jungwon and Sunoo held Jake back while Riki got in between, helping Nicholas up, asking for forgiveness to deescalate the fight.
"Don't apologize to that asshole, he fucking disrespected your sister!" Jake shouts, breathing heavily through his nose, struggling to contain his anger.
Nicholas scoffs and wipes the blood from his busted lower lip, "I was stating a fact, that she is your bitch."
Silence ensues when Riki harshly shoves Nicholas, his friend EJ catching him before his ass makes contact with the sand. You've never seen your younger brother display an act of dominance before, rage brewing in his glare as he spoke in a threatening tone, "EJ, you're the sensible one here, get this fucker out of my face before I do something that we'll regret."
"This runt-" Nicholas was about to retort but he was dragged away by EJ, effectively stopping the brawl.
Jungwon and Sunoo sighed in relief, finally releasing Jake from their grip. Riki then went to you, softly patting you on the head as if he's saying that he's got you, that no one is allowed to mess with you except for him. Then he turned to Jake, "Thank you for defending her, hyung."
You all decided to go home after that incident, the mood totally ruined and you can hear the boys plot revenge as payback while you're changing, and you had to stop them right there.
As a compensation though, you and Riki invited them to stay for dinner, to which they happily agreed, not wanting to miss the opportunity of having free food.
When all of you stepped foot inside the reassuring space of your home, the sullen spirit from before was lifted up by some video games and snacks that your parents provided, letting you guys have fun while they prepare dinner.
You watched as Sunoo, Jungwon and Riki yell at the top of their lungs, accusing one another of cheating until one of them actually does it and everyone loses their minds. You laugh, then suddenly you were hyper aware of Jake's presence beside you on the sofa when his knee accidentally touched yours.
Your eyes discreetly slide over to his hunched form, the dim lights of the living room somehow highlights his sharp features even more, yet it made him look softer. You always had a habit of being obvious it seems since Jake turned to you with a questioning look on his face, silently asking you what's wrong.
You have to make up an excuse asap, and the lacerations on his knuckles provided the best one.
"I think we should treat that." you pointed at his hands, crummy reason but you'd stick to that rather than admit that you have been admiring him like a creep.
"Oh this? It's fine, it doesn't hurt that much." he looks at his knuckles, waving off your offer but you insist, telling him that it's the least that you can do after acting as your knight in shining armor in your damsel in distress. Thus, you find yourself alone with him in the bathroom, Jake sitting on the cover of the toilet while you rummage through the cabinet for the first aid kit.
"Found it, here." you ushered him to show his hand to you, placately tending to his wound, cooing at him like a mother hen whenever he hisses at the sting, making him chortle at the way you're acting. When it's all done, he thanked you, ready to leave but for some reason, you tugged him back to his position and placed your lips on his in a flash.
Jake was suddenly rigid, not really knowing how to react at first but he is nothing but a weak man when it comes to you, so he did what he does best, show you how much power you have over him, kissing you back as hard as he could. Then your next words made his head spin, like he's drunk off of you.
"I haven't thank you enough, Jake." you murmur against his lips, lowering your head to have your mouth reach the skin on his neck, sucking and biting it until you have left a visible mark. Your hands slithered over his clothed body, feeling his abs as you got on your knees for him, "Let me take care of you this time, hm?"
How can he even say no to you, he's going crazy right now. Your doe eyes begging to him, to let you pleasure him. Your silky voice calling him baby like he's the only boy you've ever called with that name. Your small hand on his crotch, palming him over his jeans. He couldn't say no to you.
"Go on then, I'm all yours." he rasps, relaxing his whole body and enjoying the show that you'll gladly perform for him.
You smiled and bit your lips, excitement coursing through your veins as you began to unbuckle his belt, lifting himself up to help you remove his pants and boxers so you could get to work.
His length sprung up a bit, having been freed from its constraints, still a bit soft but your mouth still waters from its sheer size. Your adventures with Jake always end up with him pleasuring you, never really giving you the chance to appreciate him like how you've always wanted.
You gently grabbed his manhood, your finger tracing the prominent vein on the side down to his balls, causing a sharp inhale from the man above you. You licked your lips, gazing at him from under your lashes, "What do you want me to do, Jake?"
God fucking shit.
Jake could cum just from your innocent teasing but he has to hold himself back, he must enjoy this, because he’s aware that this will be the best blow that he'll ever receive. He hasn’t experienced it, but he’s about to and if it’s you, he knows damn well that it will be out of this world.
He takes hold of your hair, gathering your strands and creating a ponytail, letting you kiss around his crotch and groin, then he stops you with a rather harsh tug on your scalp.
"Take me baby, use that pretty mouth of yours, and only your mouth." he instructs, giving emphasis to not using your hands which you immediately obligue, massaging his balls with your tongue until he tells you to stop.
Jake went and grabbed his dick, the tip leaking with precum and had half the mind to smear it all over your glossy lips, "Spit on it, then use your hands."
He doesn't need to elaborate more as you collect whatever moisture you can get inside your mouth, spitting on his member and lathering it all over his cock, moving your palm up and down, the slick making your movements smoother.
He can't wait anymore, not when you're allowing him to do things to you. No more restraints as he grabbed your chin, your mouth forming an 'o' shape and gave you this look, quietly informing you that he's done playing. You nodded, finally taking him in your mouth and you couldn't help the pride that swells within you when he suppresses his groans.
You coughed up a bit when the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, some tears forming due to gag reflex, but Jake was unforgiving, whispering about how good you take him and that you should do more if you really wanted to thank him for everything that he's done for you.
You began to bob your head up and down, relaxing your jaw and hollowing your cheeks so you could take more of him, ignoring the pool of spit that formed on the corner of your mouth, letting it drip down your neck.
You started off slow, gradually increasing the pace. You used the tip of your tongue to zone in on the smaller and more sensitive areas of his member, pausing the bobbing of your head so you could pay attention to his angry, red head. Wrapping your lips around it and sucking, like a child with a lollipop, slowly.. slowly, enjoying his grunts and praises about how good you make him feel.
Jake felt his dick twitch when you used your hand, wrapping it around the base of his cock, adding pleasure to the parts that couldn't reach your mouth (because he's big af), and he felt himself losing control, a small apology leaving his mouth before he sets the rhythm himself. Holding your head steady as he stood up, his manhood not leaving your mouth and he started thrusting mercilessly. His dominant side always gets to you, and he knows because he's hearing those gagged moans as he used you like his personal fuck toy.
"I'm close baby." he warns, and he looks down, and fucking hell, the image has been burned into his brain. Messy, you're basically crying and drooling around his cock, your hands helplessly holding onto his thighs for support while you struggle to breathe through your nose.
Truly, the best view he's ever seen.
He staggers, not bothering to pull out of you, releasing his seed inside your mouth, not giving you a choice but to swallow all of it.
Jake exhales, satisfaction painted on his face while he slides out of your wet cavern, finally giving you the opportunity to catch your breath.
He knelt down in front of you, his forefinger smudged the strayed mixture of his cum and your saliva on your chin, swirling it around before inserting his digit inside your mouth, a smirk forming in his lips when you obediently sucked on it.
"That's my girl, now let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
---------------------------------------------------
"Bro, hey! Are you listening?"
Felix, one of Jake's friends from Australia snapped his fingers in front of the said man, breaking him out of his daze as he turned his attention from his phone to his friend.
"Pardon?" he asked, shiny eyes blinking while smiling innocently.
Felix rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at the younger, "You've been fixated on your phone the whole day. Say, you're waiting for your girlfriend to text you, no?"
"I'm not!" he fights back, "And how many times do I have to say this, she's not my girlfriend!" he grumbles, running a hand through his hair.
Jake has always been a popular guy in this town, and obviously, after the incident at the beach, rumors fly through gossip faster than light.
"Jake and Y/N are together!"
That's what they all say, and as much as he loves the sound of you two dating, he's worried that the.. girls that he's been with might go crazy and attack you. He doesn't want you to get hurt, but all that he can do is deny everything. Heck, even Jungwon, Riki, and Sunoo helped in putting the baseless fire out.
"Doesn't look like it to me." Chan then interrupted the discussion, emerging from the kitchen with bottles of coke in his hand, setting it on the table and letting the other boys refresh themselves from the heat of the summer season.
"That's what I've been saying." the freckled boy agrees, finally having someone side with him.
Jake was about to retort again after gulping his sugary cola, but he stopped when he received a notification from you, saying that you need a ride and you're currently at the parking area behind the mall. He jumped from his seat, bamboozling his way out of his friends' apartment, bidding his friends a hasty goodbye.
Jake went back for a second, his head peeking from the door, "Oh and Felix."
Said man was startled, pointing at himself with a confused look on why his name was called all of a sudden.
"Yeah you, to answer your question earlier. No, I won't be going to the club or party or whatsoever. Hooroo!" and he was gone.
The two boys who were left in the living room looked at each other and shrugged, "Not his girlfriend, he said."
---------------------------------------------------
You were near having a panic attack, who would've thought that going to the mall to buy a new dress (because your last one was sadly lost and never found), would cause such chaos?
Tons of girls are either asking you about how you got together with Jake and how lucky you are or just plainly wanting to pull your hair out for stealing their prince charming... and you had enough of their bullshit.
You stood there in the parking lot, waiting for the very main cause of your dilemma to come and pick you up. Just then, a familiar stygian Kia entered the empty lot, stopping right in front of you then Jake himself appeared right out of the vehicle.
You wanted to scream at him for causing you so much trouble but a lump was caught in your throat when you saw his disheveled appearance, clearly rushing here to get to you but still managed to look exceptionally good.
How can one look like a painting da Vinci himself made even when his hair is all over the place and the collar of his denim top was not fixed at all?
Fear not, only he, Sim Jaeyun, can pull it off.
"Y/N! Are you okay?!" he dashed to you, holding you by your shoulders and examining you thoroughly if you were hurt. He swears, if he sees one tiny scratch on you, he'll haunt whoever caused the damage.
You almost cried at how sweet he is, but you opted to bury your face on the crook of his neck instead, surprising him but he returned the embrace nonetheless, entwining his fingers on the strands of your hair and setting his chin atop of your head. Apologizing for whatever happened to you, knowing that he was the root of all of these.
"No," you detached yourself, staring down at your white sneakers and how it complements Jake's brown leather shoes, "I guess I was shocked because I was literally being mobbed in there. Felt like a celebrity for a second." you tried to joke about the situation but Jake remained sympathetic.
"What are you even doing out here?"
"Well, I still need a dress for the festival.. which is tomorrow."
Jake facepalmed, laughing at his stupidity because how could he forget?
He held your hand in his, tugging you with him and ushering you inside his vehicle. When asked where he was taking you, all he replied to you was giddy "Secret!"
Soon, you arrived at his flat, and you were awed because it's been too long since you visited in here. Certainly, it still looks the same and the memories came rushing in like a wave.
Running around the house, chasing Jake with a spatula because he thought it was a great idea to scare you while you were in the bathroom, planting an oak tree in his small backyard, making him promise to take care of it even if he’s hoary and hunched.
You followed him to the steps, a delicate smile on your lips when you saw the rust on his door, surely a sign of the aged building. Upon entering, a familiar border collie ran up to you, sniffing you before wagging its tail in pure joy, making you squeal because she remembered you.
"Layla!" you hugged the little bundle of joy, rubbing her fur zealously, "You've grown so much! I missed you!"
Hearing your voice must have set off something from the dog as she threw herself over you, basically begging to be babied like how you did before. And you are willing! Except that she’s hogging you, her whole weight pushed on you which made it hard to breathe.
Jake, who was standing at the side, watching the wholesome interaction with glittering expression sensed your distress, "Layla! Come here!" he called the dog, using the treats that were stored as a way to entice the furry creature, which definitely worked.
"Sorry about that, she gets excited really easily." Jake went to you and helped you up when Layla was busy with her snacks, "Told you she really missed you." he adds, making you chuckle.
"I can see that. Well, what do you need to do that requires you to kidnap me here?" you asked, gazing at him curiously which made him nervous.
"Right." he scratched the back of his neck, giving you a sheepish grin, "Would you mind if I go to my room for a bit?"
You puckered your lips in curiosity but didn't question him any further, telling him that it's fine and that you'll wait. When he got out of his room, he was holding a pink paper bag, shyly walking up to you and handing you the item.
"What is this?" you accepted the bag, fishing whatever it was residing in there, then your eyes shimmered in recognition, hastily pulling it out and an attire was presented to you.
An elegant, satin red dress. An outfit that looked exactly like the one that you were eyeing back when you were 15, the age where you wanted to act like a model or some actress, and the red dress in a catalogue made you feel like you could reach such dreams.
"Do you want to try it?" he asks and you nod your head, heading towards the bathroom, leaving Jake and his nerves for him to calm. But you wouldn't let him, how could he when you got out of the toilet wearing the shade of autumn that represents all of his thoughts and emotions for you.
You walked closer to him, merrily twirling around to show off, "What do you think?" you look at him expectantly, skittish for his reaction.
Jake gave you a once over, hands in his pockets as he raked in your appearance, from your head to toe, and he tried his best to come up with a coherent answer. "You are," he inhales, removing his hands from his pockets and throwing it up in the air and placing it on either of your shoulders, "ethereal."
His heart beats strangely fast, which is a natural occurrence whenever he's with you. It always happens whether he likes it or not, something that he has no control over. He fixes his gaze into your gorgeous eyes and he soaks in them.
Everyday he swims to the thoughts of you, diving deep into the complexity of his feelings and hoping that when he ascends, you'll finally be able to see him in a different light.
"Say Y/N, would you like me to chaperone you during the fiesta?" he queries, and you couldn't help but laugh at his old method of asking you to be his date for the party.
You gathered his hands on your shoulders and held them into yours, transferring your warmth into his own skin as opposed to the cool air that starts to surround the house due to the darkening of the skies outside and the whirring of the air-conditioner, "I would love to."
Then your phone sets off, what a way to ruin the moment but you were pulled back into reality when you saw the caller.
"I'll be right back." you gave the man a tight smile, trudging down the hallways and out to the backyard to give yourself some privacy, unbeknownst of Jake's footsteps that followed you due to your anxiousness, but he made his presence hidden, and his blood boiled when he realized who it was that you're talking to.
He heard snippets of the conversation, and as much as he knows that he's in the wrong, the jealousy rises up to his stomach unprovoked, choking him until he's out of air.
"Yes, Hoonie, I'm having the best time here."
Best time because he's with you, making you feel like you're the only woman in the world.
"I do, I'll send you a photo of the dress soon."
The dress that he personally bought.
"Alright, take care. Uh-huh, love you too, my figure skating prince."
Well, that's fucking it.
The green eyed monster got the best of him, rage seeping through his bones and.. and he thinks he needs a glass of water to settle down. He runs to the kitchen, reaching for his favorite mug and filling it with ice cold water, letting it run down his throat and he wishes he could just dump it down on his brain to cool off the fiery envy that swiftly creeps up on his whole being.
He jumped a bit when you called his name, startling him when you were there, standing by the kitchen door with concern gracing your features, "Are you okay? Is something wrong? You don't look too good."
A barrage of questions and he answered it all in his brain in fear of saying something that might potentially hurt you.
Is he okay? No.
Is something wrong? A lot. You. Him. This. Whatever the fuck this is.
He doesn't look good? That’s where you're wrong. He always looks good.
His internal battle and fuming facade had you worried, taking steps closer to him in an attempt to console him. He was fine a few minutes ago, now he’s acting like this?
The moment you stepped into his sanctuary, touching him on his biceps, all his walls broke down and he immediately pulled you closer to him, connecting your lips together in a hot, messy, searing kiss.
He held you by your waist and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck, granting him the license to trap you between his sturdy body and the marbled counter.
On the other hand, when your boyfriend called you, taking in his soft voice, his longing words. Hearing him tell you how much he misses you and how everything will be easier only if he has you by his side.. and his never ending canadian pancake jokes, this time with maple syrup.
It reminds you that you are taken, but you let yourself fool around for too long and you're stricken with guilt. Sin written all over your heart and soul because Sunghoon's own heart was getting broken without him even knowing and Jake's will sooner or later be shattered as well.
You walked back inside the building, determined to put an end to this fallacy as soon as possible. You've let yourself fall into the rabbit hole, and you believe that you have been only missing your other half to the point where you willingly rekindled an old flame, thinking that this summer thing would be the answer to your loneliness.
But you proved yourself wrong yet again when you let yourself be submerged into Jake's honeyed touches and spicy kisses.
You couldn't simply say no to him, not when every crevice of your body has been explored by him, savored and shaped to perfection exactly to his liking.
You moaned his name when his hand massaged your boobs over the thin dress, his thumb adding slight pressure to where he's sure your nipples are located. His tongue never stopped invading your mouth, asserting dominance that you've never seen from him before.
He hoisted you up the counter, spreading your legs for him to slot his tiny waist in, and when the need for oxygen was needed, you both parted ways and the string of saliva between your lips made the tips of yours ears red.
Jake's heated gaze had you embarrassed, his left hand on your thigh started moving, deft fingers tracing faint lines on your skin and you barely made out the words.. 'M I N E.'
You were inclined to return his stare, and all you could do was to revive the long forgotten yearning that you had left a year ago, everything that has been existing inside his hazel orbs.
There were a lot of uncertainties. What if you didn't leave your small town to pursue a city life? What if you stayed here instead? Will the changes be different like how things were right now?
No lingering stares across the room, no skinships concealed by friendship, no more denying of what you two really are because.. fuck this all. Friends do not know the taste of each other, a simple platonic relationship doesn't give you a whole orchestra playing Taylor Swift's Wildest Dreams like that one scene in Bridgerton.
No, friendship doesn't make you feel like you're in heaven but love does.
This was supposed to be a one time summer fling, when the leaves turn into the color of wine that you had been nursing late at night, a past time that you developed whenever you're troubled about what you're really going through with Jake; you shall leave it all behind.
You will, but for now, the necessity to bury yourself in Jake's iridescence is your utmost priority.
You pulled him in again for a kiss, this time with a plan.
"I don't think this will reach the bedroom." he murmurs, his hands all over your body as he tries to feel you more, palms finally back on your thighs to lift your dress up, revealing black laced panties that had him groaning and inevitably, harder down there.
You giggled, pecking his cheeks while you started to unbutton his denim shirt, tracing your fingers over his golden skin, "I don't mind, do whatever you want. Also, leave this on." you say, admiring his chiseled muscles under his top.
He curses under his breath, you really know how to rile him up. You know him too well, and he's down bad for that.
Jake has always been a good boy, and he doesn't need to be told twice. If you told him to do whatever, then he'll do just that. First, he plans to fuck you in that tiny little red dress.
His hand traveled to your panties, chuckling when he felt a wet spot in the middle, his middle and forefingers playing with it, "Damn baby, haven't done anything yet you're this wet?"
You whined at his teasing, moving your hips for more friction but Jake pulled away, causing you to protest which seemed to please him, given by his smug countenance. He clicked his tongue and raked in your appearance, in a complete disarray and he's glad that he can affect you this much.
"I need you to be patient, baby. Can you do it for me?" he mumbles, voice dropping a pitch lower and it makes you wetter because it's so damn hot, not like his predatory leering helps your condition. Although, as much as you wanted to test his leniency, you decided to listen to him this time around, sitting still and watching him do his thing.
Your obedience greatly pleased the man, leaning down to give you a peck on your top lip, lightly nibbling on it before pulling away.
His hands move on your arms for a second, moving up to your shoulders. His calloused palms, probably from doing sports and playing the violin, are clement against your smooth skin, goosebumps running along the path that was traced.
Jake seems to be in a trance, hyper fixated on your body as he glides the straps down, guiding your arms so he could remove them through the straps, causing the upper portion of the dress to get loose in the process.
The action reveals more of your supple chest for him to gawp and you let out a gasp when Jake buried his face on your cleavage, trailing smooches on your chest and when he can’t take it anymore, he straightens himself up and he completely removes the bodice of the dress.
He takes the initiative to bring your bodies closer together, spreading your thighs wider and bunching the dress on your waist, until his hard on can be felt on your clothed womanhood.
Jake then resumes his ministrations, hands going over your belly, outlining your rib cage and his fingers traces the shape of your breasts, the sensations are building up fast and the agitation is starting to get to you. You made that apparent when you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him closer to give him a silent signal of where you want him to touch you.
He only chuckles, dipping his head near your jawline to trail kisses over it, reaching your ears and whispering sly statements, “We’ll get there, princess. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride, okay?”
“But Jake..” you whined and he shuts you up with a filthy, open-mouthed kiss where his tongue dominates your mouth, he takes that as an opportunity to engulf your boobs into his large hands, tenderly kneading and squeezing, tracing your areola in the process to make you squirm.
You moan into his mouth when his fingers rub your erect nipples slowly, increasing in speed and pressure as seconds go by. Your moans getting louder when he adds some twisting and pulling, pleasurable but not enough to cause pain.
Jake can’t help the groan that escaped him due to your incessant grinding, directly stimulating both of your lower areas. Your damp panties have been clinging on your pussy, your juices soaking even his jeans, specifically the area of his raging boner.
Jake disconnects from the liplock, observing your tousled appearance and despite his wobbly vision, he can confidently say that you’re insanely otherworldly.
The vermillion tint on your cheeks, blown-out pupils and bruised lips. Truly, the epitome of the goddess of beauty, his one and only.
“Jake?” you questioned, in a hazy stupor with your labored breathing, “What happened?”
Jake shakes his head, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on yours, giving you a butterfly in the stomach-inducing feelings, “Just that you’re gorgeous.”
He chuckles when you squeaked at his compliment, removing his hands from your boobs in lieu of grabbing your ass, further pressing you on his hardness before leaning down on your chest, his warm breath hitting your mounds that had you shuddering.
You clutched on his shoulders for support when he began sucking on your nipple and gyrating on your covered wetness. You felt him flatten his tongue on your boob, covering an ample surface, turning into the hardened edge of his wet appendage flicking the nub repeatedly.
A brave lioness is what you are, primed for battles and victory yet you are nothing but a lady in desperate need of release in Jake’s presence and skillful tongue.
Soon enough, when your clit has been prodded far too many times by the rough fabric of your undergarment and your erected buds have also reached their limit, your back arched in pleasure, your orgasm washing over you like waves.
Jake continued his movements, ceasing only when you whine in overstimulation.
“My baby did a good job.” Jake praises you, patting your head and smoothing the bird’s nest on top of it. A spent smile is painted on your face, slumping onto the tiled countertop to catch your breath, then your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets when you hear Jake say that you’re not done yet.
He merely raised an eyebrow, getting rid of his pants and personally manhandling you into a position of his liking but is also comfortable for you. He pushed your panties to the side, too impatient to remove it and lining the tip of his leaking cock in your entrance.
“I still haven’t cum yet, princess.” he mutters, holding your thighs apart as he plunges into you, inch by inch, “You’ll help me, right?”
You nod your head, hands going over to his chest and he immediately grapples it in his, groaning in pleasure when your gummy walls sucked him in, but he held the overwhelming urge to do it one go as he wanted to feel you in the most intimate way.
“That’s my good girl.” he moans, bottoming out of you. He stays motionless for a few minutes, giving you adequate time to adjust. Then he started moving, freeing your hands to grip the sides of your hips, his pace was tamed at first but he went feral when you beseech him for more.
His thrusts gradually escalate, fast-moving and solid, making you feel so full. Every drag of his member on your slick creates squelching sounds mixed with your mewls, it rings in your eardrums, and the result is you getting wetter.
You’re basically lathering his counter and skin with your juices but Jake couldn’t care less, frowning in concentration as he does his best to pleasure both of you.
“Don’t stop.” you mumble along with other incoherent sentences, his darkened eyes glimmered, ramming inside you with all his might, adjusting a bit so he’s able to hit your sweet spot, and when he finally hits it, his reward is your chants of his name.
“Don’t worry, babe.” he grunts, tilting to match your face to grace you a saccharine kiss, his pace unrelenting and merciless, not wasting any minute as he bullies into your wetness without any care in the world, “I don’t plan on stopping.” he mumbles against your lips.
The knot in your belly gets tighter each time his cock grazes your g-spot and you purposefully clenched around him, causing him to unconsciously dig his nails into the flesh of your thighs.
The euphoric feeling was too much for you to handle, closing your eyes and dumping your head on his shoulder.
Jake’s gasps and low grunts are echoing in your head, slightly opening your eyes when you feel a rather pleasant yet burning sensation, realizing that he’s rubbing your clit. Adding onto the stockpiling gratification.
You heard Jake curse, expressing how breath-taking and marvelous you are, in every aspect and facet. You tried peeking at him in spite of your incoming cloud nine, and in your drunken stupor of paradise, your enticement towards his sweaty neck invoked you to lean in and suck on his skin.
Jake moans in delight, a specially harsh thrust was given to you in the process, taking you by surprise as it strikes the perfect site that had you tingling and creaming all over his member.
You accidentally bite a bit too hard on his neck, marginally leaving teeth marks that’ll surely take at least a few days to heal.
Jake’s hips stuttered, groaning rather gutturally at your dripping, warm cavern’s involuntary clenching, seizing his cock and as much as he wishes for the intercourse to carry on for a little longer, he has also reached his limit.
He releases his seed inside, painting your walls white and warming your core. He keep his languid strokes to ride your highs, halting when the dopamine dies down.
The smell of sex drifts in the kitchen. Sweaty, hot, satisfaction and fulfillment surrounds the place. Both of your strained breathing reiterates the events that have transpired.
You made the first move, lifting your head from his shoulder and pushing his sweaty locks that got stuck on his forehead, smiling at him giddily, “That was amazing.”
He wheezes at your pronouncement, “I know. You are amazing.”
“Why is it always me?” you complain, not accepting his never ending praises towards you. Besides, it wasn’t you who’s doing all the work in your.. endeavors.
“Because,” he engulfs your hand in his, kissing your knuckles and fingers one by one, “that’s what you are. Amazing.”
You roll your eyes at his flattery, then the joy you’re feeling turns into sorrow when he pulls out of you, some of his cum oozing out of your hole. The emptiness nearly made you whine but you fight off the impulsive thoughts of doing so.
After cleaning up and making sure that you’re presentable for other people to see, Jake offered to take you home and you accepted. Throughout the ride, you two are singing at the top of your lungs, ranging from love songs to rock songs, tittering when the other’s voice cracks.
When you’re finally home, you are reluctant to separate with him, but he assured you that he’ll see you tomorrow. As he should because he is your date for the event.
Bidding goodbyes was a herculean task, managing to do it when your parents themselves went out of the house due to their anxiety at the car parked in front of the house for 10 minutes.
You steer away from your family’s curious questions, telling them that you are tired (the truth) and you crave some alone time to rejuvenate.
It is a very particular day, like you two have discovered something new that veered your social link to a blithe yet brooding one. The possible consequences of your poor decision-making was washed away by fatigue, thoughts of Jake and the excitement of tomorrow’s event lulling you to a dreamless yet deep sleep.
---------------------------------------------------
You watch the youngsters run and jump in thrill at the vibrant and bright atmosphere of the location for the town’s long awaited celebration, sighing through your nose but still laughing at their energetic vibes.
“Takoyaki!” Riki exclaims, nudging his friends and quite literally yowling at them when they disagree at his suggestion.
“I want some candied apples.” Jungwon points at a certain stall, Sunoo’s eyes following suit and the smile that he’s sporting is the biggest you have ever seen. (desserts do have that kind of effect, maybe that’s why they always have a room in the stomach.)
“Really? So early in the evening and you want sweets?” the tallest among the guys deadpans, turning to you for help, “Knock some sense into these idiots.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose, nonchalantly waving Riki off, “Put on your big boy pants and deal with it.”
You ignore your brother’s bleating, facing Jake who is beside you the entire time and fretting over the fact that your mother and father left you to look after the boys to have their ‘alone time.’
“Jake?” you called for his attention when you noticed that he wasn’t responding to your hardcore yapping, only to find him immersed at you.
“Jake? Is something wrong?” the thumping in your chest accelerates as he peers at you with dreamy eyes, permeating with fondness and yearning. You are not entirely sure on how to react, standing there like a statue until the man in front of you scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.
“I’m sorry.” he laughs bashfully, “You are simply glowing, a rare jewel. I can’t stop admiring you.” he admits and the blush on your cheeks darkened.
Your appearance is not something to be confident at, you look decent at best if you say so.
You wore the red dress that Jake gifted you, paired with rubber shoes of the same hue. Your hair is styled in a dutch braid, decorating your strands with various pins and ribbons for the aesthetic, and finally, a natural make-up for added radiance.
You literally see no reason for him to goggle at you, but then again, you can’t and don’t perceive yourself in Jake’s point of view. You’d be shocked if you learned how angelic you are in his world.
In Jake’s standpoint, the tinge of cerise complements your sublime beauty like no other. It brings out the tincture of your eyes, the carmine of your cheeks, the cherry of your lips and it greatly enhances your flushed complexion. A mermaid you resembled because of your hair, relatively constructing an illusion of enchantment.
That is why he cannot fully fathom why you’re denying his words, simply because Jake is confident about it. He frankly believes that there is no other like you— unparalleled and stellar.
“Be serious for once.” you say, thwacking his shoulders with a snigger.
Jake frowns, facing you and catching your hand in his, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a shrilling voice, one that had you reeling in consternation and abhorrence.
“Well, well, well. The power couple has revealed themselves.”
Great, the night is young and it’s already ruined by none other than..
“Chaewon.” Jake utters her name with such revolt, shielding you from her as he protectively shifts you behind him, “What do you want?”
“You wound me.” she places a hand on her chest, faking a sad expression before she wheezes and narrows her overly eye-shadowed eyes in your direction, “Hello again, Y/N. Won’t you come and greet me as well?”
Your whole body trembles when you hear her call your name in a sweet, sickening manner with an underlying condescending tone. It wreaks havoc in your supposed to be zen state, the rain in your glossy orbs threatens to fall any minute the more the interaction is prolonged.
Jake senses your dilemma, and he knows that he has to do something, anything to not let this get out of control. He needs to wrap this up asap.
“Chaewon!” Jake roared, seething and perturbed, “Get out of here while I’m asking nicely.”
The girl hoots in laughter, obnoxiously even, holding onto her tummy, “You’re hilarious, Jake. Why are you acting like nothing happened between us?”
Time seemed to come to a pause at her revelation. Surely, that wasn’t what she said, right?
You must be mistaken because Jake? The boy that you trust the most, the only person who is aware of your trauma towards Chaewon’s wrongdoings.. something transpired between them?
Your head that is hanging low amidst the whole ordeal tilts to spare the girl a glance, which you shouldn’t have because you have now witnessed the most gut-wrenching sight: Chaewon wearing the white dress that was supposed to be yours.
She peeks and notices your gaze on her, whirling around to show-off with a haughty smirk, “Pretty isn’t it? I’m really happy that Jake gave this to me.”
“Jake gave that to you?” you whisper, and like a bat with supersonic hearing, she makes-out what you just said without any problem.
“Yeah!” Chaewon giggles, and she dropped the bomb that exploded all over your conviction and solidarity, “I mean.. From all the nights me and Jake have spent in his bed, I think it’s only natural for him to give me some gifts.”
Your eyes widened in anguish, meeting Jake’s with resentment. You don’t even need to explain yourself, your betrayed expression articulates all the emotions that are fermenting in your being, spoiling the gaiety and leaving a bad taste in your mouth.
You bitterly tugged your hand, grimly retiring in this shithole wordlessly. Jake’s pleas were blocked out as the ringing in your ears is too noisy, currently focusing on how excruciating it is to wear your rose tinted glasses.
Seeing in a bird's eye view, the earthquake of indulging in your desires, the red flags; rejecting the clues and signals in place of shooting stars and red roses.
There is nothing wrong with harboring intense, burning feelings for someone. There is nothing wrong about it except…
You choked back a sob as you stood still in the middle of some empty street, covering your mouth with your palm while you used your free arm to hug yourself, a coping mechanism to the either the cold breeze or the icy realization of your own breach of trust.
To the person that you are tied to. The lover whose heart is reserved for you but here you are, cracking his entirety unbeknownst to him.
Truth to be told, you are apprehensive about the entirety of your solstitial days. You are no doubt in the utopia of cloudy marshmallows and lustrous sequins, such vista is brought to you by your paramore, Jake.
Your affairs are not accepted by society, deemed illegal by the law and an unforgivable misdeed by the gods. Yet you couldn’t, for the hell of it, deny the fact that you are over the moon, spending time with your revived ardor that you thought had passed away.
Reflecting on your decisions brings you on a disparaging trip to guilt land, your sins are not reasonable, will never be decipherable but love has always been like that, isn’t it?
Working in mysterious ways, playing with fate and destiny, using cupid as its puppet and people’s heartstrings as marionettes until it cooks up its desired results.
But must it be so ferocious?
You are having a meltdown, drowning in these poisonous thoughts when a distant voice clears your smoggy psyche.
“Y/N!”
---------------------------------------------------
Jake fumbled. He fucked up. So bad.
He was motionless for a minute, wide eyed and panicking as the noise around the ongoing celebration helped him block the cringe-y voice of the girl, whose presence if he must say, is irking as hell.
He watches as your lovely figure walks further away, getting smaller the more distance you put between you, and it’s nauseating. The agony was fucking too much, not foreseeing the events.
He was meant to be with you the entire night. Eating delicious foods from the stalls, winning you a giant teddy bear, watching the grand fireworks whilst he kisses you under the radiance of the natural and artificial stars.
And whose fault is this?
Jake turns to the culprit, her innocent facade pissing him off to no end.
“What the fuck, Chaewon? Have you finally lost your marbles? Didn’t I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?!” he yells, his emotional intelligence gone because the mere thought of losing you is not worth the effort of suppressing his anger.
“What?” she asks, crossing her arms in disdain, “I only came here to say hi and to show the dress.”
The scene appears to catch the attention of the bystanders around them, and multiple pairs of eyes scrutinize the pair, which is not good for the sake of it all.
Jake inhales, praying to anyone out there to give him the patience that he’s currently lacking, “How many times do I have to say that I’m not interested in you? We fucked once and I was drunk! That’s the end of the story!”
“So fucking around with Y/N is better? Have you forgotten that she has a boyfriend? You really want to spend your precious summer with a whore?” she rebuts, and what she labeled you was the last straw.
He ruthlessly gripped her arms, no caution nor forgiving, “Listen here, you do not call Y/N a whore ever again. She is so much better than you and,” Jake scoffs, eyeing her with disdain, “you do not even come close to her level. So, I would really fucking appreciate it if you zip your shitty mouth, or else I will make your life a living hell.”
Jake lets her go, clenching his fists and hiding it inside his pockets, glaring at the teary-eyed woman but he certainly does not fucking care. She can bawl her eyes out and spread gossip about him, but he won’t let any disrespect towards you pass.
He turns around, quickly changing plans as he thinks of ways on how to make things up with you, but before that, he took a shot of belittling the girl, “Now that I see it, that dress is ugly as hell. You can keep that, it's only beautiful if Y/N wears it.”
Jake then runs off, in a mission to find you.
---------------------------------------------------
“Y/N!”
It took you a minute to process what’s happening. One moment you are alone and the next second you’re engulfed in a warm hug. Must be a divine intervention or something, your knight in shining armor coming in at the right time to save you from the sorrows of your own faults.
You pushed him away rather forcefully, vigorously wiping the remnants of your tears away but Jake has seen it either way.
He cups your face, mellowly speaking, “Please don’t cry, baby-”
“Stop!” you cried out, placing your hands on his chest to put a tiny gap in the middle, a feeble attempt at refusing his support, “Stop calling me that if you don’t mean it. I-I.. Please, I want to be alone.”
You’re beginning to go into hysterics, sobbing uncontrollably now that you have been slapped by reality.
“I don’t want you to be alone, and,” Jake steeled himself, not accepting your rejection, “I mean it. You are my baby so please Y/N, let’s talk this out.”
You shake your head, struggling against his firm hold. The complexity of the whole situation embroiders dark threads in your snowy fabric, commencing the madness in you, and you’re so damn afraid if you’ll be able to surpass this test.
“Jake, I don’t want to- Please, stop, I can't do this anymore.”
You are too busy wallowing in despair that you failed to notice Jake’s terror stricken guise. All of his brain cells are working overtime to think of something, anything to dissuade your incoming rash verdict about your.. circumstances with him.
Jake slides his palms onto your shoulders, lowering his forehead down the crook of your neck, shutting his eyes and relaxing for a second.
It’s now or never.
“You can’t do this anymore while I've been here, doing it ever since.” he mumbles, decibels reaching your ears and it makes you confused.
You stay rooted in your spot, listening to his shallow breaths, “Doing what?”
“This Y/N.” he lifts his head up, meeting your weeping orbs as his lower lips tremble, wavering and hopeless mien, “I did not pursue Australia for the sole reason of staying here, because I thought that you’d continue college in this town.”
Wait. You are the reason?
“I wanted to be with you, then I learned that you applied to a university in the city and I was too late. I wasn’t able to go with you because I hesitated. And that was the biggest mistake that I will forever regret.”
Jake didn’t give you the time to butt in, he prattled on and on, explaining and disclosing every bit of information that you have to know.
Chaewon and him did have a history, but he was drunk and was in need of some sort of intimacy because all he did was miss you while you were gone. Yes, shitty excuse but that was the truth. He apologizes hundreds of times for that, verbalizing that he avoids her like the plague after their one time encounter, and that she’s the one who kept on persisting in a relationship with him.
He doesn’t want to do shit with her and he is willing to spend a lifetime making it up to you if it means that you’ll forgive him.
You mutter his name in hopes of cutting his reverie to tell him that it’s okay. That he doesn’t need to be unfair to himself and that you also have made an awful blunder yourself. So, you tried again but then he blurted out the words that rewired your verdict.
“Y/N, I love you. I am so fucking in love with you. You inhabit my day, possess my nights and I-”
You finally placed your lips on his, shutting him up for good. You can’t contain your selfishness anymore, and you’re going to hell for it.
“Jake, I understand.” you whisper against his lips, “No more talking. Just kiss me.”
And he did. A passion filled kiss in the dimly lit middle of the road, and soon enough the two of you are giggling out of your wits, running towards his flat to savor each other beneath the raving moon and stars.
Ablaze sheets and shushed confessions of affection, lustful chants of pet and nicknames, hot and ponderous breathing. Lips molding, tongues dancing, limbs intertwining — love was made multiple times that night.
Jake felt his turbulent ambitions being nurtured into a calm sea.
When he holds your sweaty body close to his after the last of the many rounds of ardent copulation, he pecks the crown of your head, thinking that he’s got you.
Imagine the bewilderment and fretfulness that he undergoes when the next morning, he wakes up and you’re not by his side. The slot beside him is where you’re meant to be.
So, why are you not here?
He is like a thundercloud, fixing himself up and taking a dangerous, speedy trip towards your house only to gain the certitude that you have left.
“Yeah, she came back home during dawn, grabbing her suitcases and catching the earliest train back to the city. She didn’t say anything to us, just that she needs to go back as soon as possible.” Riki clarifies groggily, your brother rubbing his eyes sleepily, overlooking Jake’s fall from grace.
He thanks the younger and when the door is shut, he’s out.
He was in a sinking boat the whole fucking time, his white knuckle grip on the handles was useless as he’s the only one dying with it.
You, his gospel, are once more absent to guide him, and he is left alone to fend for himself.
Jake enters his car in a daze before laughing to himself, beyond miserable and breaking down. You can’t even be bothered to give him an acrid goodbye. Was he not worth the time? Was he not worth it?
He slams his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes going over the hidden compartment where the bracelet with your initials sits. Looks like he won’t be able to give you that, no?
“What do we do now, Sim Jaeyun?”
---------------------------------------------------
Your sudden disappearance deeply troubled Jake. His gut tells him not to contact you first, listening to his intuitions and twiddled on his thumbs.
He waited for a call, message, anything to let him know that you have not abandoned him, but not once did he receive one. A complete dissonance and in a flash, the pigments in his face that you have sprayed were drained.
He prayed for a sign to the deities because he’s tired of waiting, ‘Give me a reason to stop chasing after her.’
And what he asks, he gets.
One day, when he was rolling around in his bed, stalking your social media, he saw that you updated on instagram. He immediately opened the app, but he was crushed like an insect at what he saw.
It was a photo of you and your boyfriend. Seems like your ‘ice skating prince’ won a tournament, no trophies at hand since his prize is already in his arms— you.
Jake lies down on his back, his arms covering his eyes and he lets the salty tears that he’s been keeping at bay for the longest time freely stream down. He granted himself the license to cry this time, to have a moment of weakness as he grieves at the newly formed memorabilia of adulation and picturesque remembrance.
You should have at least given him some sort of magnanimity, a heads-up perhaps?
Yes, it was necessary so he could’ve commenced the digging of the graves. One for his dying gray heart and one for his wilted, parched crimson roses.
Jake is no stranger of the naked truth, that he was the other guy in the portrait. The snake and not the proprietor but even for a trifling moment, despite the bleak and slim chances, he believed that the silver lining exists.
He was so sure that the inkling sentiments, skinship, companionship throughout the summer would mean something to you.. If not, then why would you be so cruel to give it to him? Why would you be so heartless to let him think that he could win against someone that is unrivaled when it comes to a space in your heart and life?
He spilled his booked sentiments, you let him savor you, allowed him to follow you to the depths of nowhere only to pull back at the last minute, leaving him stranded at the end of the cliff.
So he did what must be done. He jumped in the deep, dark ocean of precariousness. Hoping that at the end of his expedition, a treasure would be waiting for him.
Jake did find fortune alright; rusted, grotesque, and counterfeit.
He was a deep-dyed, utter fool. Pathetic at its finest for falling for a person he could never, ever have.
Indeed, a complete defeat. What was the name of the victor again? Ah, right.
Park Sunghoon.
taglist:
@deobitifull @dreamiestay @shiningnono @anormieee
#enhypen#enhypen imagines#enhypen smut#enhypen fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen hard hours#enhypen hard thoughts#jake sim#sim jaeyun#jake imagines#jake smut#jake angst#jake fluff#jake x reader#jake scenarios#jake hard thoughts#jake hard hours#jake sim imagines#jake sim smut#sim jake imagines#sim jaeyun imagines#sim jaeyun smut#heeseung imagines#jay imagines#sunghoon imagines#jungwon imagines#niki imagines#sunoo imagines
557 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello! Could you please write more about the Haitani brothers with a baby brother? I loved what you wrote above about that.
Title: easy days
Fandom: Tokyo revengers
Characters: Ran Haitani, Rindō Haitani
Pairing: none
Fic type: fluff
Warnings: reader insert, male reader, fluff, child reader, big brother Haitani brothers
🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️
(name) sat on the plush carpet of his home, the babe watching as Rindō did pushups and crawled towards him and decided that climbing his brothers head was an excellent idea "(name)! No bud! Get off me!" Rindō said trying to get the babe off his head as (name) snuggled into his head, resting across from ear to ear "eeeeooo!" He said into the others ear a bit loudly as the man sighed "yesyes, im Rindō now get that little butt off my head!" He eventually grabbed the laughing baby.
"You learn how to crawl and suddenly you're Spiderman" Rindō teased the other who grabbed at his face.
(Name) Was developing fast, the little one crawling around as he looked for his eldest brother, pushing the bedroom door open to see long blond and black hair draped off the side of the bed and a hand hanging from it. (Name) Crawled towards the sleeping figure and shakily stood on his chubby little legs "ra!" He said happily as he tugged at the silky locks as lavender eyes snapped open like the grudge and darted angrily at whoever dared wake him, looking at his baby brother standing and smiling at him "how did you escape the nanny again?"
At first they thought the nanny was shut at her job but (name) is a tricky baby "come here standing man" ran lifted the babe up, guess he was awake now as (name) sat in his lap "growing up way too fast on me, can't be doing stuff like that" he teased, remembering when he made (name) promise not to grow up to fast, though the babe was still vaguely potato looking.
He just wanted his baby brother to be reliant on him... Just a bit more, before he had to see the harsh world like he and Rindō have seen and built a career out of exploiting it.
The two wanted to make sure (name) had a polar opposite childhood from theirs and never EVER got involved in the shit they did.
"So no growing up, ok?"
"Owki!"
They just wanted this... For a little longer.
Ran and Rindō watched as (name) played with the new toy they got him, a tiny vacuum cleaner that functioned "he's totally invested in it" Rindō laughed as he sipped his drink, been three months clean and drinking carbonated water since.
"He's gonna make the house spotless at his level of dedication" ran said back as (name) mimicked the maid, whom he seen do this countless times over and over.
"If only he could do dishes but the dudes torso is the size of my briefcase"
"Maybe when he's older"
#tokyo revengers x reader#tokyo revengers x male reader#tokyo revengers fluff#male reader#baby male reader#baby reader#anime x male reader#anime x reader#rindou haitani#ran haitani
494 notes
·
View notes
Note
I guess I kinda missed slick Sunday, but I suppose these are headcanons for after the heat fun? After realizing the realities of birth, anyway:
-post pardum omegas who end up very aggressive towards even their mates
-Steve who was so sure he was completely prepared for the challenges of a newborn and just falling apart when he feels anger towards his own pup
-ripping apart bedding or clothing because nothing feels right
-rejecting food or items given by Eddie or any other alpha (not because he doesn't want them but because his brain won't let him)
-feeling overwhelmed by the pup(s) but when Eddie or anyone else tries to take them for a while, Steve still gets possessive and nesty and territorial
-not connecting right away with the pup's scent and panicking about rejecting the pup
-or worse, actually experiencing some form of rejection illness BECAUSE the pup scent doesn't click right away
Sorry these were kinda out of the blue, but I figured they could be some interesting headcanons for you!
i will cry🥲
…
poor Steve would try so hard to keep it all hidden from both Eddie and the rest of his pack. feeling like he’s going crazy— or worse, like he’s a bad omega and bad mother to his pup.
and Eddie can sense there’s something off, but he doesn’t want to act paranoid. Steve’s always communicated before this when there was a problem. maybe it’s just the lack of sleep they’re both getting… maybe it’s the way their lives now revolve around a scrunkly little potato that keeps crying and going through endless diapers.
it’s probably nothing. just a transition of sorts.
but then Steve starts actually growling at Eddie when he tries to get in the nest. that turns into turning away food from his mate. not letting his alpha hold the baby, even if Steve is utterly exhausted and ready to collapse.
all the while, Steve looks miserable. his wet eyes are full of apologies as he’s hissing at Eddie for getting too close to him and the pup.
Steve’s trying to find reasons for why he’s tearing apart his own carefully built nest.
Eddie has to watch as his omega loses himself completely. has a front row seat to Steve’s mental breakdown when he finally admits “i- i’m not doing well, Eddie… i think i need a doctor.”
they’re at the hospital an hour later…
and home once more a week after, happier than can be after some medication adjustments and an intense therapy schedule for Steve.
they’re ready for it the next time and they don’t let this break them— don’t let it stop them from having the big family they always wanted.
in fact, Steve ends up heading the weekly omega postpartum survivors meetings at the local library, eager to share what he’s learned and help others too.
Eddie couldn’t be prouder of the strong omega he’s bonded to.
#slick sunday#steddie#steddie omegaverse#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#steve x eddie#omegaverse#a/b/o#my asks#mpreg#cw mpreg#tw mpreg#postpartum depression#angst
235 notes
·
View notes
Text
Italy ~ let go and let daddy
soft daddy!Joel x f!reader
Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist
Wordcount: 4,915
Summary: As your adventure begins, it becomes clear that Joel is determined to make this the best summer of your life.
Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, f oral receiving, lots of soft daddy stuff - like so much, use of 'baby girl, good girl, my girl, baby, daddy', reader has breasts and wears a dress, just Joel doting on you so so hard. The endinnnggggg 👀🤭
Notes: Hi friendinos! Thank you for waiting so patienly for this! I wish I could write them here forever so I could have them see more, but Joel has a short timeline to show reader the world, shining, shimmering, splendid.
Joel's song for this entire AU: To Be With You - Mr. Big
As you start your summer adventure headed to Italy, you can feel the excitement building up inside of you. You never expected that you'd be traveling the world let alone with an older man like Joel, a man you've only been seeing on and off for a short while, but as you think back to your time with him, you know that he's going to take care of you, and you can't wait to see what kind of adventures he has planned.
Joel's plane tickets are first class, and as you board the plane, you can't believe how luxurious everything is. You're immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. The plane is decorated in rich, warm tones, with plush leather seats and polished wood accents.
You notice the attentive service. The flight attendants welcome you aboard with warm smiles and promptly offer you a glass of champagne. You feel like you're dreaming. The most you've ever been offered on a normal flight is a packaged biscuit and half a can of cola.
As you settle into your seat, which feels like an entire room, you can't help but feel pampered. The seat itself is incredibly comfortable, with ample legroom and a built-in massage function that you take advantage of immediately. The entertainment system is state-of-the-art, with a wide selection of movies, TV shows, and music to choose from.
And just when you get settled, you're presented with a menu featuring dishes prepared by a Michelin-starred chef, complete with wine pairings selected by an expert sommelier. You opt for the seared scallops with cauliflower puree to start, followed by a tender filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes.
Obviously the food is impeccably presented, and each bite is a symphony of flavors. You feel like you could get used to this. As the flight attendants clear away the food Joel suggests watching a movie together and after a brief disagreement about which one to choose, him wanting action, you wanting something a little less intense, he finally relents and decides on watching "The Notebook," a movie that he knows you love. However, he takes forever trying to line up the movie on his device so that it plays at the exact same time as yours.
"Come on, Joel. Just press play already," you say, giggling.
"Okay, okay. But I want to make sure we're synced up perfectly," he responds, trying to fix the timing one last time. “Okay press play on yours in -” he pauses to look over at your screen and then back at his, “in 5 seconds.”
“Yes sir.” You wink at him.
Finally, he presses play, and as the movie progresses, you find yourself getting lost in the story you laugh, you cry, and you even find yourself holding Joel's hand during the more emotional scenes. Joel is surprisingly engaged in the movie, laughing at all the right moments and making thoughtful comments about the characters and their motivations.
You can't help but feel a warm glow spreading through your chest as you listen to him. You've never felt this close to anyone before - not like this, at least. You find yourself getting lost in Joel's gaze, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way you can almost hear a southern twang when he laughs too hard.
He suddenly glances over, looking at you, his eyes are filled with warmth and tenderness. You feel a flutter in your chest, and you can't help but smile.
"What?" he asks, grinning.
"Nothing. I just... I'm happy,"
"Me too, darlin'. Me too," he says. "I'm glad you're here with me.”
"Me too," you whisper, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.
Throughout the rest of the flight, you're constantly amazed by the level of service. The flight attendants anticipate your every need, making sure your glass is always full and your needs are met. Even the bathroom is luxurious, with plush towels and premium skincare products.
As you prepare to land, it's clear that Joel has pulled out all the stops to make this trip unforgettable.
When you arrive, Joel has arranged for a private car to take you to your destination and as you ride through the winding streets of Italy, you can't help but feel like you're in some kind of dream.
When you step out of the car, you're immediately struck by the beauty of the where youre staying. The architecture is a stunning blend of modern and traditional Italian styles, with intricate details and ornate accents that reflect the country's rich history. The grounds are immaculately maintained, with lush gardens, sprawling lawns, and a picturesque courtyard. As you enter the lobby, you're greeted by a warm, inviting atmosphere.
The hotel staff is impeccably attired, with friendly smiles and welcoming words. They escort you to the check-in desk, where you're presented with a chilled glass of prosecco and a warm, freshly baked cookie. The check-in process is seamless, and as Joel finishes with the receptionist, she provides you both with a detailed itinerary of the hotel's amenities and services.
-
After settling into your private villa, you can't help but marvel at the incredible space as you start to walk around. You've never seen a place so big. The living room is spacious and inviting, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a crackling fireplace. The dining area features a table that can seat at least ten, with crystal china and silverware already laid out for your convenience. The bedroom is a true sanctuary, with a comfortable king-sized bed adorned with plush linens and pillows. A flat-screen TV hangs across from it on the wall. The ensuite bathroom has a deep soaking tub, a separate shower, and a dual vanity area and is stocked with luxurious bath products, including high-quality soaps and scented candles. And just as you think you've seen it all, you discover a fully equipped kitchen, a home office, and a private patio with an outdoor grill and dining area.
The pièce de résistance, however, is the private pool off the bedroom, which features a stunning infinity edge that seems to blend seamlessly into the ocean beyond.
After you spend some more time exploring the Villa, Joel interrupts you, leading you out to a separate balcony that overlooks the ocean and picturesque view. He stands behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist.
You both stand there enjoying the moment before you say something, “what a beautiful view, huh?”
But Joel's not paying attention to the view. He's studying you, how you look so surprised and happy. He never takes his eyes off you when he replies, “sure is darlin’, nothing more beautiful.” He pauses for a moment longer. “Now come with me." He grabs your hand and leads you to the massively oversized bed and helps you sit down on the edge. He has a mischievous glint in his eye, and you can tell that he's excited.
“Alright, close your eyes.”
You do as he says.
He quickly starts moving a small table in front of you and positioning boxes and bags onto it.
You hear the rustling of tissue paper and your curiosity peaks.
“Okay - open.”
Your jaw drops in amazement. In front of you are an array of beautifully wrapped boxes, each one perfectly tied with a satin ribbon. In addition, there are bags from some of the most exclusive designer stores in the world, Gucci, Prada, and Versace. Joel smiles at your reaction.
“Joel, this is too much, I -”
Joel interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "No, no, darlin'. It's not. I want you to have the best of everything. You deserve it. Just open ‘em, please." He says, almost desperate.
You look up at him a little unsure, before slowly getting off the bed like you're trying to be quiet.
“Here,” Joel intercepts with a box, he can still see your clear reservations about all of this.
You're overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the items inside. There are designer dresses, shoes, handbags, and accessories, each one more beautiful than the last. You try on a few pieces, and they fit you perfectly, as if they were made just for you. But you can't help feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, you're overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of Joel's gifts. You've never had anything this extravagant before, and you can't believe that someone would go to such lengths to make you feel special.
On the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that you don't deserve any of this. You've always been a simple girl, content with the basics, and never really needing much more. You've never been one to indulge in luxury, and the thought of wearing designer clothes and accessories makes you a little uneasy, like a fish out of water. But as you look up at Joel, you can see the joy and excitement in his eyes. He's clearly thrilled to be able to share this with you. You can't bring yourself to disappoint him. So you push your reservations aside and continue to try on the beautiful items, smiling and thanking him with each new gift.
"Joel, these are all so beautiful. I don't know what to say."
"Say you'll wear them for me,"his eyes are sparkling with excitement. "I want to see you in all of these beautiful things. You deserve to feel as special and loved as you are, darlin'."
You can't help but be touched by Joel's words. You've never felt this seen or appreciated by anyone before. You take a deep breath and push your reservations aside once again. "Okay, I'll wear them for you," you say, smiling up at Joel. "I can't believe you did all of this for me."
“I can’t believe how damn good you look, baby.”
Joel's face lights up with each outfit change. He wants to help you try them on, but you force him to stay while you run in and out of the bathroom, piecing each option together.
As you try on the last item, a stunning designer gown that fits you like your fairy godmother had magically placed it on you, you stop to look at yourself in such disbelief that this is even happening. When you step out, Joel takes your hand and spins you around, looking you up and down.
"Better call NASA because you're out of this world, darlin." Joel's face is filled with admiration as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, just wow, takin’ my breath away. Can't wait to show you off."
You feel your body get warm with pleasure at his words. You've never felt this beautiful before. The dress really is stunning, and it makes you feel like a million bucks.
After trying on all of the beautiful clothing and accessories, you and Joel decide to head out for a romantic dinner at a local Italian restaurant. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You can't help but feel grateful for this amazing experience and for the man sitting across from you. As the night wears on, you can see the exhaustion setting in on Joel's face. He's been going nonstop since you arrived, making sure every detail of your trip is perfect.
"Joel, why don't we head back to the hotel? You look exhausted," you suggest.
"I am a bit tired, darlin'. But I don't want the night to end just yet. How ‘bout we head back and I'll run you a bath?"
You can't help but feel a surge of love for this man. He's always taking care of you, always making sure you're happy and comfortable. "Only if you join me," you say, smiling at him.
“Wouldn't have it any other way.”
As you make your way back to the hotel, you can feel the tiredness setting in on your own body as well. The day has been a whirlwind of excitement and new experiences, and you're looking forward to a relaxing bath.
When you arrive back at the villa, Joel guides you to the bed. You sit on the edge, feeling the comforting pull of the bed beneath you. You're about to reach for your shoes, but Joel grabs your wrist and kneels down in front of you. “Let daddy take care of you.”
Joel starts to undress you slowly, taking his time to savor every moment. As he removes your shoes, he kisses your feet gently, causing you to giggle and squirm with delight. He then moves up to your legs, gently rolling down your stockings and kissing your thighs as he goes.
“You deserve to be taken care of, baby girl. You've had a long day, wanna make sure you're comfortable."
"Thank you, Daddy," you say, smiling down at him.
Joel's face lights up at your words. He stands up and takes your hand to help you to your feet, he turns you so your back is facing him and he slowly unzips the your dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he goes. The fabric slides off your shoulders, revealing your bare skin underneath. Joel can't help but let out a low whistle as he takes in your bare shoulders and the curve of your back.
"You're so beautiful, darlin',"
He helps you step out of the dress, carefully folding it and setting it aside. He then turns his attention back to you, slowly sliding your bra straps down your arms, and unclasping it in the back. Then he works your panties off. You feel a shiver of pleasure run down your spine as he undresses you. It's like he's worshipping your body.
Once you're completely naked, Joel helps you onto the bed, covering you with a soft blanket and tucking you in. He leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. "Be right back, darlin'. I'm gonna run you a bath and get everything ready," he murmurs.
You nod, feeling a sense of warmth and safety spreading through your chest. You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your mind drifting as you wait for Joel to return.
Joel returns carrying two flutes of champagne. He sets them down on the bedside table and then helps you up from the bed. He grabs the drinks, and you make your way to the bathroom. The tub is filled with steaming hot water and scented bubbles. Candles flicker on the edges, casting a warm, inviting glow.
Joel holds your hand as you step into the tub, making sure you don't slip. Once you're settled in, he hands you a champagne flute. "For you, my love," he says, his eyes sparkling with affection.
The name catches you off guard. He's never called you something so - relationshipy. But you try not to think too much about that and take a sip of the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue. It's the perfect complement to the warm, soothing water.
Joel joins you in the bathtub. He sits down behind you, his legs on either side of your body. He takes the washcloth and begins to gently wash your body, starting at your shoulders. His touch is tender and loving, and you can feel your body relax under his ministrations.
As he washes you, he praises you, telling you how beautiful and sexy you are. He tells you how much he loves your body and how much he loves being with you. His words are like a balm to your soul. He moves up to your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. It feels so good that you can't help but let out a soft moan. Joel smiles. "That's it, darlin'. Let go and let daddy take care of you.” As he moves down and washes your neck, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your skin, causing you to shiver with pleasure.
"You like that, baby girl?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.
"Yes, daddy, feels so good," you whisper.
Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He continues to wash you, moving down to your shoulders and arms. Massaging your muscles with the washcloth, helping to ease any tension or knots. His hands move down to your chest. He washes your breasts gently, taking care to avoid your nipples. You can feel your body responding to his touch, your breasts feeling sensitive.
"Daddy.." you moan, your voice filled with longing.
"I know, baby," Joel replies, his voice low and husky. "But, I want to take care of you first. You deserve to be pampered."
He moves down to your stomach and hips. He's meticulous and thorough, making sure to cover every inch of you. As he reaches your thighs, he pauses for a moment, his fingers lingering on your skin.
"Can I wash you here, darlin'?".
“Yes please.” You're so turned on that you can feel yourself trembling with anticipation. Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He washes you gently, his fingers exploring your folds with care.
His fingers keep rubbing over your clit again and again, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "Daddy, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." you moan, unable to finish your sentence.
"Shhh s'okay," Joel replies, his voice soothing, as he kisses the top of your head. "I've got you baby."
With those words, you let yourself go, your body shuddering with pleasure. Joel holds you close, his free arm wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear as you come down from your high, “there's my good girl, always so good for me.”
As you come down from your orgasm, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed at how loudly you moaned. But Joel's gentle touch and soothing words help to put you at ease.
"You're so beautiful when you come, princess," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.
—
As the water starts to cool, Joel helps you out of the tub and wraps you in a soft, fluffy towel and leads you to the bed, helping you to lie down on your back.
All you can do is let out a contented sigh as you relax into the bed.
"Does daddy need to take care of his baby?” he asks.
You nod, unable to speak. You're stuck in some kind of love haze, and all you feel is calm and euphoric.
"S'okay baby, you don't have to think about anything, just relax, let daddy do all the work.” He hums as he starts to massage your shoulders, working out any knots or tension that you might have. His strong hands move down your arms. You can feel your muscles melting beneath his fingers. As his hands move down to your chest, he pauses for a moment, "Can daddy play with your tits, baby?"
“Mhmm..” You lightly moan
He starts to massage your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples until they're hard and sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every touch.
As his hands move down to your hips and then your thighs, he finds your sensitive nub and starts to rub slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Your breathing becomes frantic, “Daddy need you inside me, I- fuck -”
"I know, I know, my princess, but first you gonna come all over daddy's fingers, arentcha? Dont worry m’gonna take real good care of this beautiful pussy."
Joel's fingers continue to work their magic, building you up to the brink of ecstasy once again. You can feel yourself getting close, your hips bucking against his hand as you chase your release. "That's it, baby," Joel murmurs, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let daddy make you feel good."
With a final thrust of his fingers, you come apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Joel holds you close, murmuring words of love and praise as you ride out the waves of pleasure. “Oh, I know, I know, I gotcha baby girl, you're okay daddy's here.”
When you finally come down from your high, Joel begins to kiss his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pauses at your hips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he looks up at you.
"You're so damn perfect, darlin'," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Daddy’s gonna have a lil snack now, okay?"
You nod your consent, your breath hitching in your throat as Joel's mouth descends on your clit. He licks and sucks, his tongue exploring every inch of you as you writhe beneath him. It's overwhelming, the sensation of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you, and you can feel yourself building up to another orgasm already.
"Daddy, I'm gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers threading through Joel's hair as you hold him close.
"Come for me, baby," Joel murmurs against your skin. "Soak daddy's face.”
With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you come undone, your orgasm shuddering through you like an earthquake. Joel stays with you, his mouth on you as you buck around, until the last aftershock fades away.
When he finally pulls away, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only serves to heighten your desperation for him even more.
"Need to be inside you, darlin'," Joel growls. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."
“Please daddy, please.”
He gently caresses your cheeks with his large hands. The sensation feels similar to being in a sensory deprivation tank, making you feel calm and warm. His hands cradle your face like it's made of the most delicate china. “Shhh, baby, I'm here, m’gonna give you whatcha need,” he says before kissing the top of your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment.
He pulls away and positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside, inch by inch. You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in easily, filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're home.
Joel starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. You can feel the tension building up inside of you again, the coil of pleasure in your belly getting tighter and tighter.
"Daddy, I - I can't, gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers digging into Joel's shoulders. The feeling is incredibly overwhelming this time as Joel's rock hard cock fills your walls, it feels like he could break through and rip you to shreds.
"Yes baby, come for me," Joel growls, his thrusts getting faster, harder. "Come for daddy.” He never takes his eyes off you, “That's a good girl.”
As your orgasm crashes over you, you feel yourself clenching around Joel's cock, your walls pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure. Joel lets out a low growl as he feels you coming, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.
"Fuck, darlin'," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "I'm gonna come, baby."
You can feel him swelling inside of you, his cock twitching as he gets closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he comes undone, his release filling you up in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.
Joel collapses on top of you, his heavy weight making you feel warm and safe and secure. eventually, he shifts his weight, so he's beside you and wrapping you in his arms. "My princess," he murmurs, stroking your hair lovingly. You look up at him, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. His brown eyes gaze down at you.
Your hand reaches out, your fingertips running along the side of his face, his stubble scraping against your skin. Joel leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips inches from yours.
"Thank you," you say softly. You want to thank him for being there for you, for loving you unconditionally, for taking care of you, and giving you everything.
"There's nothin' to thank me for,” he replies tenderly. "I couldn't be happier than I am right now, havin' you in my arms."
You rest your head against his chest, your eyes fluttering closed. You're not sure how long you lie there, but eventually, you start to feel the pull of sleep. Your eyelids grow heavy, and your breathing evens out.
—
When you wake up, you're not sure how long you've been asleep, but you feel refreshed and energized. Joel is still lying beside you, his arm still wrapped around you.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Joel murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.
"Hey," you reply softly, turning to face him.
Joel's eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. "How'd you sleep?"
"Like a baby," you reply, snuggling closer to him.
Joel's arms tighten around you, and you can feel his heart beating faster. "Good," he murmurs. "I have a surprise for you."
You look up at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
"It's a surprise," Joel says, his eyes still closed. "But I think you're going to like it."
You wait patiently, your mind racing with possibilities. Finally, Joel opens his eyes and sits up. "Come on, get dressed," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
You do as he says, slipping on a pair of jeans and a cute top. You're not sure what Joel has planned, but you're excited to find out.
When you're ready, Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the Villa. You follow him through the lobby and out onto the street. Joel leads you through the winding streets, pointing out different landmarks and telling you little stories about each one.
Eventually, you come to a small courtyard, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. In the center of the courtyard, there's a wall covered in locks, each one engraved with the names of two people.
"This is the wall of love locks," Joel says, his voice soft. "Couples come here to declare their love for each other, and then they throw away the key."
You look up at him, your eyes wide. "That's so romantic," you say, your heart fluttering in your chest.
Joel smiles at you, taking your hand. "I want to add our own lock to the wall, if that's okay with you."
You nod, your eyes filling with tears. "That would be amazing, I've always dreamed of seeing this. "You say, your voice thick with emotion.
Joel leads you over to the wall, and you pick out a lock together. You engrave your names on it, along with the date, and then you secure it to the wall.
As you throw away the key, you feel a sense of finality.
Joel's face breaks out into a wide smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. As you stand there, surrounded by the love of the people who came before you, you can't help but feel a sense of unease and happiness mixing together.
Eventually, you make your way back to the hotel. Joel pauses in the lobby, “Hey, you head up, princess, just need to check on something at the front desk.” he hands you the key card and watches you disappear into the elevator.
He walks up to the front desk, “hello Mr. Miller, how can I be of service?”
“Just checking in for a delivery, small box?”
“Ah, yes, it was just delivered. One moment, sir.”
The receptionist heads into a room behind the desk, not long before coming back out with a small box in their gloved hand.
Joel takes the small black box and opens it, staring at the stunning ring nestled inside. He knows that he's found something special with you, and he's not going to let it go. He's going to make sure that you have the best summer of your life, and he's going to make sure that you never forget him.
—
Thank you so much for reading! Where should they go next?
#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader
770 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kyojuro Rengoku: Flame Hashira and Little Spoon.
So I was inspired by this post
And @taisho-era-secrets 's tags
And instead of doing what I was supposed to do today I wrote this fluffy Kyojuro drabble and little spoon headcanons! Also, I absolutely headcanon that Kyojuro has a little squish.
Enjoy!
Early in your relationship, Kyojuro defaulted to big spoon.
He is after all, big.
Kyojuro is a protector down to the marrow, and wrapping you up in his arms while you slept felt like the right thing to do.
However...
He met his downfall when you cooked sweet potato rice for him.
You had intended the dish to last for a few days, even taking into account Kyojuro's appetite.
You woefully underestimated him.
And Kyojuro woefully underestimated just how uncomfortable he would be after eight heaped bowls of carb-on-carb goodness.
Which is how you ended up lying behind him, rubbing his tummy as he tried to total concentration breathe his way through the discomfort.
You both fell asleep in that position and Kyojuro was forever converted.
Some days as he lies there with you stroking his chest and belly he almost forgets you live in a world with man eating demons.
And from your perspective, being the big spoon gives you easy access to his body
He is putty in your hands whenever you caress him.
He feels so safe in your arms.
♡♡♡♡♡
Afternoon sun streamed through the window of your bedroom as the flame hashira dozed in your embrace.
“Mmh…” Kyojuro sighed sleepily as you snuggled closer against his back and wrapped your arms around him.
He always slept so deeply and for so long after missions, and as much as you missed him while he was away, you always let him lie in for as long as he needed to when he returned.
He was back safely in your arms, and that was all that mattered.
Plus, cuddled against his back like that, it felt as though you could shield him for a little while, keep him from the demons and horrors he had to face at night.
And of course… There were other benefits.
His large, warm hand wrapped around yours, and placed it on the soft swell of his bulky chest. A smile spread across your lips as you pressed your face to the valley between his shoulder blades, his gold and copper hair tickling your cheeks. In response, he put his hand over yours once more and began to move it, guiding your caress. Kyojuro didn't really do subtle; he was feeling needy, and he knew you couldn't resist.
You nuzzled and kissed his back as you trailed your hand over the curves of his chest, kneading his soft pectorals. Kyojuro trained and fought hard and ate heartily. His body was powerfully built, warm and soft and so delicious you could never get enough. He was strapping, sturdy, an intoxicating combination of strength and plushness. And he was all yours.
He chuckled quietly and snuggled back into you. “Good morning, love.”
“Good morning, handsome,” you smiled as your hand continued to caress his chest while the other lazily trailed down over his belly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Mhm… but I woke up even better.” He sighed contentedly as you continued to caress him. He loved to be stroked like this; it made him feel safe and adored. "Can we just spend the day like this?"
"No complaints here," you said, closing your eyes as you continued to caress your lover, basking in the warm, soft glow of the afternoon and of your love.
#rengoku x reader#kyojuro x reader#kimetsu rengoku#kimetsu kyojuro#rengoku kyoujurou x reader#rengoku kyojuro#kyojuro rengoku x reader#rengoku drabble#rengoku headcanons#rengoku kyōjurō#kny rengoku#demon slayer rengoku#rengoku fluff#kyojuro fluff
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]
Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍
Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.
Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.
Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.
Word count: 6.2k
💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜
Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰
On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.
“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.
“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.
Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”
“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”
Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”
“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”
Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”
Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”
“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”
“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.
Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”
“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.
You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”
Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.
Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”
Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”
“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.
“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”
“Finless porpoises,” you say.
“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”
“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.
Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”
“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”
“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”
“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.
You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”
“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”
Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”
“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”
Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.
“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”
“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.
Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”
He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, he, uh…he’s little. Really little. He…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.
You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”
Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.
You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”
“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”
“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”
Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.
“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.
“Oh.”
“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”
“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”
“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.
A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.
Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”
“The sculpture?” you say.
“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”
Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”
“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.
Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.
“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”
Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”
“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?”
“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.
“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”
There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.
“No luck?” Daeron asks.
“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”
“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.
“Seriously, dude, what was it?”
“Nothing!”
“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”
“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”
Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.
Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”
“We’ll find gas somewhere.”
“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”
Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.
~~~~~~~~~~
Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.
“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”
“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.
“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?
“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.
Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.
“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”
“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”
Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.
Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”
“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.
Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”
Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”
“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.
Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.
It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.
“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”
You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.
In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.
“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”
You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”
“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”
“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.
“I want to try too,” Daeron says.
Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”
“I want to try!”
“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”
“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”
You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.
“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.
You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”
“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.
“No scopes?”
“Not that I’ve seen yet.”
You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”
“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”
“Exactly.”
“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”
“Yeah, that should work.”
Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”
“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”
You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”
“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”
“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”
Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”
You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”
Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”
You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”
Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”
“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”
He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”
You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”
“Like throwing a football.”
“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”
“What a formidable tree.”
“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”
Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.
“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”
“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”
“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”
Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.
“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”
Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”
“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”
More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.
You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”
He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say.
“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”
“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”
“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”
“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”
“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”
“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”
You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”
“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”
“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”
“Exactly.”
“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”
“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”
He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”
You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.
What?? Who??
“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.
Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.
“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”
Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”
“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.
“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.
Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”
Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”
“What do you mean you don’t know?!”
“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.
“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.
“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”
Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”
“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.
“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”
You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”
“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.
He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”
There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.
“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”
“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”
There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”
“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.
“What?!” Luke exclaims.
“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.
Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”
“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”
“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.
“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.
“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”
“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.
“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.
Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”
“Fine, I think.”
“Hurts?”
“Just a little.”
“Dizzy? Double vision?”
“No, nothing like that.”
He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.
“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”
He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.
“Are you serious?”
“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”
“I’m fine!” Luke insists.
“Great. Then pick a card.”
“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”
“Pick it with your mouth.”
“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.
“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.
Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”
“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”
“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”
“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”
Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”
“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”
“Then stop picking bad cards.”
“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.
“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”
Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.
“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”
“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.
Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.
A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”
You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”
“Why not?”
“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”
Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”
“Experience with what?”
“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x y/n
290 notes
·
View notes
Text
my girl 1
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)
Characters: Captain Syverson
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list.
The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes.
“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?”
You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.”
“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.”
“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out.
Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind.
You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind.
“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.”
“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder.
“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.”
“Uh yeah, I remember.”
You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think.
You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade.
You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef.
You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution.
As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving.
As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance.
He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?”
“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.”
He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!”
“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.”
“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.”
“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.”
“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens.
He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you.
“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board.
Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue.
You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.
“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?”
He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.”
“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily.
“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.”
You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.
Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him.
“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you.
“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin.
“You graduate?” He asks.
You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy.
“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.”
“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.”
You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward.
#captain syverson#dark captain syverson#dark!captain syverson#captain syverson x reader#drabble#sandcastle#series#my girl#au
309 notes
·
View notes
Text
2003: a dbf odyssey
a @chloeangelic x @macfrog fic
greetings greetings one and all. welcome to the fucking circus. chloe cupcake and i have a gift for you. we put our heads together, took turns writing a classic dbf fic, and here is the hellscape we created. please enjoy. [this is entirely satirical and just for funsies. no harm intended. no tw discourse required. love u]
pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. and that's all we have to say on that
warnings: unspecified age gap, tale set in 2003, female masturbation, creepy joel, praise kink, size kink, fingering, unprotected piv, degradation, angst!
word count: 4.6k
chloe's masterlist | max's masterlist
The sun shines through the window of your childhood bedroom. You’re still reeling from an argument you just had with your mom, over the degree you just spent four years and fifteen grand on. She doesn't understand your passion for fossils, she never has, and during every family function, only one person asks you how school is going.
Joel Miller, your dad's best friend.
He’s tall. Broad. He’s built like a Dorito. Flamin’ Hot Cool Ranch. He drives a truck and he listens to dad rock. One time you saw him in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You asked what that was, and he said it was a band from “before your time, darlin’”. You swooned at the pet name.
He’s quiet and unassuming. Lingers on the outskirts of every gathering your parents throw. He likes to talk about construction, and wood carving, and little else. At least, that’s what you thought, before you came back home after graduating.
Suddenly, he started glancing in your direction every time you came into the room wearing a tight little top with significant cleavage. He would clear his throat at dinner and wipe a bead of his sweat from his forehead at BBQs.
You always called him Mr Miller, and ever since graduation, that name made him blush. Last Thanksgiving, when his family was over for dinner at your parents’ house, you started asking him about old movies, and he grumbled, then told you about 2001: A Space Odyssey.
He said he couldn’t believe that a girl with a paleontology degree had never seen A Space Odyssey before. Promised he’d show you it sometime. ”Smart girl like you will love it,” he said.
You had opened your mouth to respond, to lend him the quirkiest retort you could think of, when your dad had bumbled into the room, shoving you out of the way. He brought up the latest Austin Ice Bats game, took Joel up in a conversation you couldn’t be a part of - you knew nothing about minor league ice hockey.
Your mom called you through to the kitchen and asked you to help her with dinner. When you came into the kitchen, she started asking you if you’d gone on any dates recently, if there were any cute guys in your college classes.
You rolled your eyes, “No, mom, none of them are my type.”
She huffed while handing you a pot of mashed potatoes, “What’s your type then?”
You didn’t want to tell her that your type was older men. Really old, in their fifties. Your type was Joel, but you couldn’t tell her that. Instead, you described what you thought Joel might’ve looked like when he was younger. “Brown hair, beards maybe,” you said, and turned on your heel before walking into the dining room and setting the pot on the table.
You glanced over the place settings. Your mom had already put down everyone’s drinks. Yours and Sarah’s - a glass of water each. She says water helps with clear skin. Her own - a white Russian cocktail. And your dad and Joel’s, side by side - two beers, dripping with condensation. You paced around the table, formulating a plan.
As your mom’s voice drew nearer down the hallway, you quickly switched Joel’s beer for Sarah’s water, sitting him next to you.
When he came into the dining room with your father, you noticed that Joel was looking at you with dark, sultry eyes. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he sat down in his chair, then turned to your mother, “Looks great.” You felt his knee knock into yours under the table, but he didn’t move away. Heat pooled in your stomach. Your chest tightened, threatening to burst from the confines of your tight t-shirt.
The same t-shirt you’re wearing right now - sat at the end of your bed. Remembering the way his denim jeans felt on your bare leg. You lie back on your sheets and stare at the ceiling, thinking of his swollen muscles under his flannel shirt. The tuft of chest hair sprouting from over the collar. The veins in his hands as he passed you the salt.
You were holding a pair of jeans in your hands, about to slide them over your legs when you looked down to see a wet spot in your panties, and now you can’t ignore the throbbing in your core at the thought of seeing him again.
You carefully trace your fingers over your panties, grazing the wet spot, feeling your cheeks burning from the awareness that it’s your dad’s best friend making you wet.
You lift the skirt of your barleycorn sundress and open your legs, knees wide on your springy mattress. You hope that it doesn’t make a sound as you push the fabric aside, dragging your fingers over your most sensitive spot.”Joel,” you whimper when your fingertip brushes your wet opening, but you’re startled when you hear the doorbell ringing.
You pull your hand out quickly and your eyes flare open, chest heaving. You sit up, throw your legs over the side and slip on your jeans, button them up and turn to look at yourself in the mirror before heading downstairs, feeling the low throb deep inside of you as you carefully walk out into the hallway and hear your father greeting Joel as he comes in the door.
“Howdy,” he says when he spots you descending the staircase.
You hold tight onto the handrail, afraid you might topple over from the sight of him and the fluttering between your legs. “Hi.”
Joel’s eyes travel from your face down your body, ending up on your legs. You suddenly feel self-conscious, but all the same, secretly thrilled that he’s staring at you in this way. You stare back, eyeing him up and down from his scruffy beard to his dusty lace-up boots. Your eyes meet again as you reach the bottom step.
Joel sniffs once. “The hell are you wearing a dress and jeans for?” he asks.
“It’s called fashion,” you sass, and he grunts in response. “Ready to watch the movie?”
“I’m readier than a fried egg on the San Antonio Boulevard sidewalk, darlin’.” There’s that pet name again. You bite your lip and walk into the living room, trying to regulate your breathing. Your dad is already on the couch, remote control in hand, saying he has rewinded the DVD and that the two of you are being slowpokes.
“The old man’s got jokes,” Joel grumbles, motioning for you to sit down in between him and your dad.
The three of you put your feet up on the coffee table in front of you. You angle your feet towards Joel’s, your pinkie toe nudging against the sole of his boot. He crosses his ankles and settles back into the couch, folding his arms and prodding your side with his elbow.
“It’s a classic,” he mutters, and you giggle.
Your dad’s head whips around to face you from your peripheral like he is watching a tennis match. “What’s so funny?” he bleats.
“Nothing,” you and Joel chime, focusing hard on the screen. You smile smugly at the fact that you have an inside joke with him, something just between the two of you.
You can’t focus on the movie when your dad turns it on, and you suspect that Joel can’t either by the way he shifts around in his seat. “Got ants in your butt, buddy?”, your dad snorts, and Joel waves dismissively while you stifle your laughter.
“Just feel like I’m sinkin’ into the couch here,” Joel says, “‘S too soft.”
Soft, you replay the way he says it, over and over in your mind. You wonder if he’ll think you’re soft if he touches you with his rough hands.
“This movie sucks,” you announce, halfway through. “I can’t believe I had never heard of it. I thought it only came out two years ago?”
Joel snorts. “It came out in 1968 and was directed by Stanley Kubrick, dingus. 2001 is just the title of the film.”
Your face flushes fifty shades of fuchsia. Your dad guffaws on your left side, clapping his hands together like an annoying seal. His laughter is so loud that he almost doesn’t hear his cell phone ringing until you point it out to him.
“Yellow,” he says as he answers, and chuckles at his own joke, then holds up his finger and turns to the side, mumbling something into his phone. “Be there in twenty,” he says, then hangs up, and turns to you and Joel, “Gotta go pick up your mom but I should only be about forty five minutes as long as she doesn’t drag me into a conversation with her girlfriends. Y’all gonna be okay here?”
You both nod and sit still as your dad groans and gets up from the couch, listening as he disappears into the hallway to put on his shoes and jacket, then the door shutting.
You go to grab the remote control to keep playing the movie, and accidentally spill some of the Coke from the can you’re holding. Joel is looking at the screen while you look at the dark stain on the couch cushion, and instead of getting up to get a paper towel to clean it with, you scoot a little closer to Joel.
He clears his throat and puts his hand on the back of the couch, right behind your shoulders, not saying a word. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife and you glance down at his crotch to see the bulge in his jeans, then look up at him.
He looks at you for a second, then furrows his brows, “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
“Thinkin’ about bones.”
“Bones?”
“Specifically the one in your pants, Mr. Miller,” you say and bat your eyelashes, and then, “Just kidding.” You turn your head back to the TV but you can see that he’s still looking at you. “I was actually thinking about the Micropachycephalosaurus.”
“What did you say ‘bout my pants, darlin’? Could swear you said somethin’”
“Nothing, I promise,” you giggle and look away.
Then his hand comes to your thigh, long fingers splayed over your jeans, thumb tracing back and forth, igniting a flame inside of you.
“W-what are you doing, Mr. Miller?”, you ask nervously, feeling the heat pooling in your panties again, and this time, it’s not because of your imagination.
“Lookin’ real pretty tonight,” he says, and his other hand comes to your shoulder. You whimper at his touch. “Can just call me Joel, you know that,” he scolds with a wink.
“Th-thanks, Joel.”
You feel his hand come up under your chin with a featherlight touch, turning your face up to meet his eyes. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your face feels hot, your heart beating fast.
He looks at you through big brown eyes. You blink softly back, trying to transmit a code to him to clue him in on the ache making your thighs clench. You wonder if he knows Morse.
Joel grips your jaw and leans in, his smoldering eyes flashing between yours and your lips. He purses his own and before you know it, his warm mouth is flush against yours, his tongue pushing inside. He licks along the rim of your teeth and you open your jaw, letting him explore your wet gums.
In an instant, you pull yourself on top of him and remove his flannel, ripping the buttons apart and scattering the cloth to the couch. Joel’s hands curve around your round tits, he rolls your pebbled nipples between his thumbs like fiddling with a console controller. You roll your hips forward with a moan.
He's so hard. You look at him with wide eyes and a pout, “You're so hard.”
“Are you wet f’me, pretty girl?”, he asks. You know it's wrong, your dad could be home any moment, but you frantically nod.
“Good girl,” he says, and traces his fingers along the edge of your jeans, barely making contact with your skin.
He stands from the couch in one fluid motion, and you squeal at the sudden way in which you’re lifted in the safe grasp of his arms. It’s astounding how strong he is. How able he is to sweep you into the air, carry you out of the living room. How his biceps bulge as his boots thud up the stairs one by one.
He reaches the landing and pauses, eyes scanning the four closed doors. He steps forward and kicks open the one closest to your bodies, before realizing it is the bathroom and reversing out again.
“Pardon me,” he mumbles an apology, and you giggle again.
“It’s the one on the right,” you instruct, and he shuffles down the hall carpet before bumping your door open. He pauses for a moment when he enters the room - your childhood bedroom.
“Haven't been in here in years,” he says, and you know he's referring to when he helped your dad take out the old closets and replace them with new ones. You still have the same closets. Maybe he's admiring his work. You look at the posters on the wall and your floral bedspread.
Then he lays you down on the bed and sighs. “These old knees,” he grumbles, “And my fuckin’ back.”
You giggle.
“Mind if I take this off, darlin’?”, he asks, gently tugging at the bottom of your barleycorn sundress. You nod again, feeling your face getting hot and your panties sticking to your pussy.
Your back arches as he slips the thin fabric from your body, your breasts spilling out of their polyester prison. Joel straightens up, admires the view and hums to himself.
“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he muses, then bends again to press his body against yours. His fingers tussle with the waist of your jeans, the petite buttons only women's clothing seems to have, and you growl at the effort it takes for him to derobe you.
“I know,” he says, lips close to your ear, “‘S these big ol’ hands. They get in the way of everythin’, baby.”
You whimper pathetically, wanting nothing more than those big hands to get in the way of you. You shove your fists beneath the denim when he finally undoes the zipper, and help him drag them from your legs. As soon as the heavy fabric hits your floor, Joel’s removing his own jeans. Now, only your underwear and his separate you.
There's a wet spot on his boxers already and you whimper when you place your fingertip on it, biting your lip when he growls at the sensation. “M-Mr. Miller,” you whine, “Can I see your cock? It looks really big.”
“‘S real big, sweetie, are you sure you can handle it?”
“Y-yes, Joel, I'm a big girl.”
“‘F you say so,” he grumbles, then takes off his boxers, and you admire the sight of his manhood. You've never seen a big cock like that, a real thick and long one. You don't think it'll fit inside and you gasp, eyes flashing open while you start to creep backwards on the sheets.
“Keep the panties on,” Joel orders, following between your legs. His hairy knees push deep into the plush cushion of your mattress, his fist jerks slowly up and down his dick, which seems to only grow larger the closer he gets.
You nod obediently, biting your bottom lip. Your eyes stick on the dribble of precum he swipes with his thumb. You fall back, head sinking into your pillows, and Joel hovers over you, one hand by your head.
You peel your underwear to the side, now positively soaked. Joel’s hand leaves his member to cup you, feeling your dripping mess. “So wet f’me,” he whispers, and you moan, long and ragged.
Then he touches the tip of his finger to your opening and watches you squirm while he starts to push it in, entering you with one thick finger. You take all of it in stride, and you frown when he retracts it.
“So eager,” he says triumphantly, then adds another, and you feel the coil inside you start to tighten. You can't reach as deep as he does, nobody can except for him. Your dad's best friend, in your childhood bedroom, with his hard cock out. Tears start pricking your eyes as you get closer.
You whine, “I’m gonna come, Mr. Miller.”
He clicks his tongue, “Just Joel,” and then he picks up the pace of his fingers, pushing them inside you until you gush all over your sheets and his hand, feeling the tears sliding down your temples and your fists gripping the sheets tightly. He made you come, it's like a wet dream.
You gasp when you see the mess you made and he chuckles. “Sorry Just Joel - I mean,” you shake your head, clearing the hazy fog of sex your orgasm left behind, “Joel.” Your cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“No need to apologize, sweet girl,” he whispers, pinching your cheek with his soaked fingers. Your own cum stains your skin, somehow cooling against the stifling hot air in your room. The air filled with lust and sex.
He draws his hand back, wraps it back around his cock, rubs your gleaming slick up and down his thickness. He groans as you coat him, head tilting back to the ceiling. For a second, you wonder if he will actually fuck you, or if he’s just here to jerk off using your cum, kneeling over you.
Your query is answered when he returns his gaze to yours and leans over you again, running the tip between your folds. Your body jolts at the contact, overstimulated and spent already. But Joel doesn’t care. The man gives no fucks.
“Fuckin’ tight,” he groans as he makes space for himself inside you, pushing the head in and impaling you on his fat girth. You feel so full.
He bottoms out and moans. You watch a drop of sweat gliding from his hairline and down his temple, then crane your neck up to kiss it. His tip kisses your cervix on every thrust and you grip his broad shoulders, hanging onto him while he pounds you.
“Good girl, takin’ this big fat cock,” he praises, panting into the crook of your neck.
“Oh, fuck,” you feel the band inside of you tightening, about to snap, but then he pulls out of you and wraps his fingers around his cock again, stroking himself and snarling when he tells you to turn around.
You’re spent, limbs wrung out like a rag, but you force yourself up while you look at his cock dumbly, seeing his precum dripping out and onto your sheets. Suddenly, you hear him, “What’re you waitin’ for, sweetheart?”, and you immediately turn around and onto your hands and knees, seeing a photo of your parents on your window sill.
You screw your eyes shut so you don’t think about them, and try to focus on Joel penetrating you from behind in one motion, going full hog, filling you to the brim with cock. “F-feels so good, Joel,” you squirm and moan while he slips his large hands onto your hips, fingers splaying out over the curve of your asscheeks, pulling you back so he can fill you relentlessly.
His skin slaps against yours, the air in the room quickly filling with nothing but the sounds of his moans and yours, his wet and yours, his body and yours. Your eyes squeeze tight until you see stars, raining down over the darkness behind your eyelids. Your whole bed shakes vigorously with the rate Joel pounds into you, mattress knocking against your nightstand and sending the objects on it tumbling to the floor.
Joel notices as one in particular - your Satisfyer Pro 2 Gen 2 Air Pulse Stimulator, which you find good but really intense with its sucking power - rolls across the wooden floor. His grip tightens on your hips and he chuckles. “‘S a good girl like you doin’ with a thing like that in her room, huh?”
Your back curls. You moan in response. “Umm,” you mumble nervously, trying to think of a response when you see his lips curve into a smirk, “I- I was trying to come, last night.”
“Oh yeah? Thinkin’ bout what, young lady?”
Your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You were thinking about him. He can tell - he brushes his thumb over your cheek. “Were you thinkin’ about me, darlin’?”, he asks, and you don’t respond. You look at him with wide eyes. “‘S alright, I’ve been thinkin’ about this tight little pussy, blowin’ my load in the shower. I ain’t ashamed to admit it, you’re a real pretty girl.”
Your pussy gets wetter when you think about him touching himself and you wonder how it looks. Your dad would kill him if he knew, and you’re surprised Joel would tell you something like that, but it makes you so wet.
The image in your mind forces you to arch your back, your body curving before Joel into the mattress. He grunts each time his hips come into contact with the plushy meat of your ass, telling you good girl and squeezing you just right as his cock hits you so deep you feel him in your chest.
“I’m - gonna - cum - again,” you pant, words muffled by the floral pattern your lips are smushed into. “Joel - I’m -”
“I hear ya, baby,” he says, hips snapping. His voice is rough, hoarse. He sounds like he needs some NyQuil. You make a mental note to offer him a refreshing glass once you’re done. “Cum for me, go on. Know you need it.”
Your walls close around him as you do as he says, tightening around the intrusion in your pussy.
His cock begins to twitch deep inside you and he shoves you by the ass off of him. You tumble to the bed and roll over just in time to be drowned by his cum, thick white ropes spraying all over your tummy and tits. You worry with the ferocity of his release that it might reach the photo of your parents, but you’re too caught up in the pleasure of the moment, your own spend spilling out of your tight little hole.
“Fuck yeah,” he groans, “Take that cum.” Then, all of a sudden, his face drops and he freezes in place. He looks at you, covered in his semen, then runs his hand over his face and tucks himself back in his pants. He looks stressed as it dawns on him that he just came all over his best friend’s daughter.
“Joel,” you say carefully.
“Yes, darlin’”. He winces when the word leaves his mouth.
“W-what if my dad finds out?”
He runs his hand over his beard. “I don’t know,” he says, “I gotta go.”
“But w-wait, Joel!”
He’s already shuffling out of your room, hopping as he tugs his jeans back over his hips. “M’sorry, baby, I have to-”
“Wait!” you yelp, tearing your underwear from your body. You almost trip over the fabric as you hop down from your bed. “Take these!”
You throw the panties across your room and Joel catches them against his chest, scrunching them into a ball. You sit back on your heels, totally naked in front of him, smirking at the thought of him crossing paths with your dad in the hallway and knowing the secret he holds in his jeans pocket. Knowing that he just fucked his best friend’s daughter, in her childhood bedroom.
His cheeks heat with shock. Your panties are dripping wet. He nods and tucks them into his back pocket and adjusts the crotch of his pants over his still hard cock.
Suddenly, you hear the front door opening.
Your parents are home.
You gasp and fumble with your jeans, trying to put them on with shaky hands while you hear Joel step onto the first floor, just leaving the staircase as the door shuts behind your parents as they come in.
“Hey, buddy,” your dad calls, and you hover at the top of the stairs. “What- whatcha doin’ with your shirt off?”
Joel stammers, scratching the back of his neck. Your mom stares at him, eyes raking up and down his hairy torso. You feel a hot pang of jealousy at her wandering eyes on the man you just fucked.
“She, uh,” he motions up to you, now stepping slowly down the stairs, “She spilled her drink down my shirt.” He reaches for the crumpled flannel, whipping it in his hands and throwing it over his shoulders.
Your mom tsks. “So clumsy,” she says, shaking her head. “Did you get it cleaned alright?”
Joel nods, jumping a little when you arrive at the bottom of the stairs by his side. He’s still buttoning the shirt. “Yeah, all cleaned up. Thank you, ma’am.”
You feel a surge of excitement shoot through your veins, feeling your wet leaking out onto your jeans and knowing what lives in Joel’s pocket. You sway back and forth, hands clasped behind your back, smiling innocently.
“Sweetie,” your mom calls over, “Why don’t you go walk Joel to his truck?”
“Y-yes, mom,” you stutter, and motion for Joel to walk ahead of you.
“Have a good night,” he says and pats your dad on the back on his way out.
You watch every one of his heavy footsteps down the hall and out of the house, slipping on your Crocs before you follow him out, closing the door behind you.
The two of you linger outside of his truck for a moment. He looks over your shoulder, squinting in the Texas sun as he looks towards the house. You look at the gray in his beard, the curve of his nose and his salt and pepper hair.
Part of you hopes he’ll ask to see you again, but he’s your dad’s best friend, it could never work. He kicks a small rock with the toe of his boot, arms folded. He leans against the truck and looks up at the sky.
Your stomach flutters at the sight of him and the feeling of his sticky cum on your stomach, gradually absorbing into your skin.
“Guess I’ll see you ‘round,” he says and straightens up. He purses his lips while he looks away, then at you.
You giggle and tuck your hair behind your ear, “Um, yeah.”
“Then I’ll teach you a lesson ‘bout not payin’ attention while watchin’ a movie,” he says, and his voice is sultry and raspy. His fingers are around your chin, tilting your face up to him. “You’ve been a bad girl, lettin’ your dad’s buddy fuck you like a little slut.”
Your lips smush between his finger and thumb. “Yesh, Mr. Miller,” you push between your teeth.
“The hell’d I tell you? It’s Joel.”
You nod fervently. “Yesh, Jool.”
He releases you and opens the truck door, eyeing you constantly as he gets in.
You pick at your nails nervously as you watch him start the truck, and then drive away.
You lean against your parents’ Honda Civic and look up at the sky, closing your eyes and sighing. Your teeth come to bite your lower lip into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue. Your dad’s best friend.
He promised he would teach you a lesson. You wonder what the lesson is.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x reader#the last of us#tlou#tlou fic#dbf!joel miller#dbf!joel
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 5
A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw.
one. two. three. four.
Five. 五
Donaka's house is beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to be in, even though you’re constantly working at this or that task to keep it immaculate. You don’t mind the honest work. It’s satisfying in a way working on a computer never was, more immediately gratifying than teaching, and certainly less heartbreaking than writing ever was.
Sometimes you take a moment to just sit and enjoy the ambiance in his rooms, but by far your favorite space in the house is the library. Built in bookshelves line the walls, an antique table sits in the center, and a circle of comfy leather chairs sit by the window. You’ve taken to spending some of your breaks in there, reading this or that for the fifteen minutes allotted.
You are reaching for a book on a high shelf, just out of your reach, when a much longer arm seemingly appears out of nowhere over your head, plucking down the volume easily.
You didn't even hear Mr. Mark enter the room. Usually, he’s at work at this time of day, though you’ve noticed he’s been home more lately. You gasp and turn, finding him standing close enough that you feel the warmth emanating from his body. He’s like a furnace.
He enjoys sneaking up on you. There’s nothing he wants more, than to push you back against the shelves and take you, but he is a patient predator. He settles for just handing you the book with a lifted eyebrow. You take it absently, wondering if you are in trouble. It’s impossible to tell, from his impassable expression.
"Hello, Mr. Mark," you say softly.
He smirks at your timid greeting, delighted with this development. He’s known for days, of course, that you were coming in here. He didn’t really mind–you were always careful with the books, reverent in the way you handled them, even the newer tomes that could be easily replaced.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks sardonically, implying that you should be cleaning something, rather than looking at his books on Chinese art.
"Yes. I'm...on my break," you are quick to explain.
Donaka lets his gaze slowly and openly travel over you. He can’t help but find you beautiful, even in your unassuming black dress and white apron, your hair swept back neatly.
He takes a half-step closer to you, leaning against the bookshelf, caging you in with his broad frame. “You should use this time to take refreshment. Why are you so unkind to your body?” he scolds, annoyed that you do not treat yourself as well as he thinks you should.
You frown a little, clutching the book to your chest like a shield. He inwardly scoffs at this, finding the thought that a book between you could save you from him.
"I...didn't want to risk getting food on your books," you admit, annoyed that he seems to think he can control what you eat and drink too. Chill out, man. Even you are smart enough to let that die unsaid on your tongue.
“Very kind of you,” he deadpans. You do not miss the dry sarcasm in his tone, and you realize you have made a mistake, thinking you could just come in here and be alone with the smell of old paper for a little while. But now you’re stuck with this book in your hands, which you can’t put away without his help. Your quick escape is thwarted.
“How about this,” he proposes, tilting his head. “You can come in here in the evening, any time you want. But right now, you should go have a cup of tea, and a healthy snack.” No potato chips, practically rings out unsaid between you.
“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Mark,” you say, not happy with this offer at all. Maybe you could do worse, than your handsome employer taking an interest in your health, and offering to share his books with you. But there’s more to it beneath the surface, something darker, controlling. You sense it more than you could prove it.
You wonder how often he would find his way in here, if you started spending your evenings in one of those oversized leather chairs, curled up with a book… You can’t help but look at the table next. That sturdy fucking table, such a debauchable surface, if he were to grab you up and pin you down there…
Stop stop stop.
You can’t stop. Not your thoughts, at least. Your feet, however, are ready to go.
He is searching your face with that sharp gaze that sees everything. He doesn’t look pleased, almost as though he knows you’re not going to come in here again unless you are cleaning.
Hoping to distract him before he can concoct something else, you hand him back the book to re-shelve, since you clearly can't reach it.
He accepts it, his eyes never leaving your face, but his fingers brushing yours. It feels like an electric shock, when he touches you, and that predictable rush of heat floods your body, from the tips of your fingers to your treacherous, aching, center.
It’s almost as though you have no sense of self-preservation at all.
"Thank you, Mr. Mark." You sidle around him, thinking about how you’re always fleeing the rooms he's in. It's almost becoming a comedic bit between you–but you’re not laughing, as you feel his hungry eyes on your back as you go.
“Y/n?”
You were so close to escaping.
“Sir?” you ask timidly, turning slowly in the doorway.
“Tell Mrs. Wong I’ll have my tea early today. Bring it to me on the terrace.”
There is a single beat during which you consider reminding him you’re on your break still, and that’s not usually your duty around the house. The impulse evaporates as he fixes you with that dark stare, and you dare not defy him further.
“As you like, sir.”
He inclines his head with a little smirk, as though to say, ‘See how it goes for you when you defy me?’ All in all…you feel like you got off pretty easily. That is, until you are bringing him the tray with his beautiful burnished earthenware yi xing teapot, and some little dishes filled with dried fruit and nuts. They do look tasty, you have to admit, but that’s neither here nor there for you now.
The terrace is cloistered by greenery, a pool beside it filled with flowing-finned koi carp. In the distance one can see the blue glitter of the sea. It really is a view fit for a king, and even though you still don’t really know a thing about Donaka Mark other than he is wealthy and ridiculously good looking, you are happy for him.
You set down the tray without making a sound, and he smirks at you as you bow your head, making to flee once more. “Sit down,” he orders, in the guise of a polite invitation. You recognize it immediately for what it is.
“Sir…”
You don’t know why the thought of staying with him twists you up in knots inside. Perhaps simply because you want to, even while knowing it is not your place to do so.
“Sit,” he says again, and with a sigh you do as you’re told, perching on the edge of the chair. It’s incredibly peaceful, in this place. The sound of the fountain tinkling beside you, the salt-tinged breeze coming off the water beyond…for a moment, you close your eyes, perhaps because you can feel his gaze boring into you. You’re not entirely sure what’s happening between the two of you, but that little instinct deep inside that is rarely wrong–and you rarely listen to…is sounding the alarm.
“This teapot is two-hundred years old,” he tells you, pouring a cup. Your eyes go a little wide, as you think about the heritage you’d unwittingly carted across the house in your two little hands. It must be very valuable. “It makes an exceptional cup of dark oolong.”
As he sets the cup in front of you, as well as the little dish of dried fruit and nuts, you know you resemble one of those open-mouthed carp in the pond in your surprise. “Another auction-house conquest?” you dare ask.
“Something like that. It was not cheap.”
Your lips twist as you attempt to keep your wry comments to yourself. As usual–you fail. “Do me a favor and don’t tell me what you paid for it, if I have to carry it back to the kitchen.”
He chuckles quietly at that. “You think it was a waste of money?”
“No, there are definitely worse things to waste your money on.”
You realize a beat later that your comment sounded far more specific than you meant it to, your personal prejudices making their way out the cracks of your armor.
Lucky you, he seems amused by this, though you can’t help but wonder if it’s a trap when he asks, “Oh? Like what?”
“I didn’t mean you specifically…”
The flash of his smile is like a baring of teeth; you are equally mesmerized as you are mortified. Is this what the little deer feels, a moment before it is snatched up in the jaws of the tiger?
“Yes you did. Come on, tell me.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Playing hard to get as usual. Is it my art collection?”
“No,” you answer immediately.
“My beautiful house?”
“No,” you reply again in earnest.
“My clothes?”
No, you rather like those too. You simply shake your head, wishing, as usual, that you could run away, or turn back time, and shut your fat fucking mouth.
“Hmm. What’s left? Ah, it’s my cars.”
You are practically writhing in your seat, as he hits this nail on the head.
“Absolutely none of my business, sir.”
“Of course it’s not, but where’s the fun in that?”
You sense the fun in this for him is making you sweat.
“So go on? What’s wrong with them? Lamborghini not to your taste?”
You take a sip of tea, closing your eyes momentarily to appreciate the flavor. It really was wonderful, bitter yet somehow silky on the back of the tongue. Enjoy it now, you think–he’s going to fire you in five seconds.
“Well. If they make you spend that much…” you deadpan, “You’d think they’d at least have the decency not to make them so ugly.”
For a moment you think you are dead–not fired, but soon to be murdered–until a bark of laughter escapes this usually so-severe man, the flash of his white teeth startling in the sunlight. “I’ll be sure to tell them you said so,” he retorts, saluting you with his cup of tea, before taking a sip. “Though you might feel differently, if you’d let me give you a ride.”
You freeze for a moment while reaching for a peanut. He meant in his car you deranged dumpster fire of a woman.
“I’m sure…its performance is bar none,” you answer diplomatically. You see his smirk out the corner of your eye, and you feel your ears burning.
“So tell me, my little housekeeper with all the big opinions. If you had my money, what would you spend it on?”
His money? As usual, you can’t tell if he is baiting you with the subtle choice of his words. You sigh, taking a piece of dried fruit. You think for a few moments, though it doesn’t take long.
“Honestly? The same thing I’m doing now.”
He chuckles at this. “You like cleaning my house that much?”
“It’s not bad.” Despite the probable ulcer developing from living in proximity to this tempting man. “But when my work visa expires in six months, I’m going to travel again.”
Donaka’s expression sharpens immediately at hearing this, his brows pulling in a frown. “You’re leaving us so soon?”
“I…told your assistant, in the interview. It wasn’t a secret.”
Donaka still glowers at you, and you can’t help but feel like you did something wrong. But he wrangles his emotions, whatever they may be, into a neutral expression. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You are obviously overqualified for this position.”
“I am educated, but I don’t really feel like that qualifies me for much of anything.”
He lifts an eyebrow at that, and you sense he is still annoyed with you. “What about your writing?”
You shrug, even while it feels like a knife delivered to your chest. “It’s never come to anything.”
“How hard did you try?”
You trace the rim of your little tea cup, gnawing at the inside of your cheek.
“Enough to break my heart one more time than I could take,” you admit, suddenly feeling raw under his piercing gaze. Rejection is wearing. So is pouring your soul into something that only amounts to very little when you were foolish enough to hope. You’ve never managed to turn anything you enjoy into a money making endeavor. It always makes you feel like you’re dying inside.
Donaka, however, seems less than sympathetic. “You shouldn’t give up.”
You shrug, ready to change the subject. It’s not like you’ve stopped writing. You’re just not writing anything that can ever see the light of day. “I will take that under advisement.”
He narrows his eyes, like he doesn’t believe you’re taking him seriously. “You know what your problem is?”
“Would you like a list?”
“Very funny. But I think you’ve never truly been afraid.”
“Afraid?”
“Exactly. I can tell. I think you’re intelligent, and maybe you’re tough, but you’ve never been to the edge of survival. There’s something about your contempt for the display of wealth that makes me think you come from it. You’re content with mediocrity because you know if you have to, you can always run home to mommy and daddy. You have a safety net that keeps you lazy.”
You blink at that. It’s maybe half true, though you would rather eat roadkill than go home to your father with your hand out. “I’m not…lazy.”
“Of course you are. You’re certainly not realizing your fullest potential.”
This hurts way more than it should. Maybe…because he’s not wrong. This man has an edge of danger to him–it wouldn’t surprise you at all, to learn he’s a self-made millionaire. Maybe he had a rough childhood, and climbed over anyone he had to, to get where he is. Good for him. You wonder vaguely who he’s hurt along his journey to the top. Deep down, you know men don’t get where Donaka Mark is without someone paying a price.
“Maybe not. But not everyone wins the big jackpot in life. I’m content with where I am now.”
“For now? And where will you go from here?”
“India, I think.”
“Why?”
“There are still things I want to see.”
“Why?”
“Why not? Because I want to. Because I can. Why do anything in this pointless existence?” You are careful not to raise your voice to him, though your heart gallops in your chest like you are having an argument. The yawning void of your old friend nihilism opens up before you, a black hole you know well but haven’t had to contend with for a while.
His lips curl for you, though it is not a nice smile. “You lack a sense of purpose.”
He’s not wrong, though you don’t think he understands you as well as he thinks. You find the endless march of humanity perpetuating itself tiresome and destructive. You find the rat race pursuit of wealth for the sake of winning a pissing contest exhausting. The hypocrisy of religion has never appealed to you. On the whole, you find homo sapiens to be a sad and ridiculous species with a few bright spots, but unfortunately you are one, you’re stuck here, and you have to find something to do with your time until you check out.
Usually you’re content in your own little world, trying not to harm anyone…but he flips this switch for you in two seconds flat, and you find yourself clenching your jaw as the weight of it crushes you down. You have to admit this was not how you expected this day to go. Silly you, for thinking you could just sit down with a book for ten minutes unbothered.
He pours himself another cup of tea, pretending that he doesn’t notice you’re stewing in an existential crisis while sitting across from him. “I could change that for you, you know.”
Confused and unsettled, which is probably exactly what he intended to do to you, you shift in your chair. Is he propositioning you? Or is he talking about something else entirely? You feel like a low-level current is running through your bone marrow, slowly cooking you from the inside.
You’re not sure if he’s asking you to be his mistress–or to join a cult. Maybe it would be nearly one and the same.
From the flashing look in his eyes, you don’t think he expected you to laugh at him. It’s the only way you can get up the courage to say this to his face: “Respectfully…no one says that unless they’re trying to evangelize you into something, Mr. Mark.”
His lips dance as he smirks at you. “But you are above manipulation, Miss y/n?”
“Probably not,” you admit, suddenly nervous all over again about where this is heading. Why does every conversation you have with this man have to feel like a fucking chess game? “Though I like to think…I am somewhat aware, at least.”
“Being aware of manipulation is not the same as being immune to it, believe me.” Again he smiles wide enough to flash teeth, and you can tell he is truly enjoying himself now. “Can you really say that wealth doesn’t interest you? I don’t buy it.”
“The ostentatious display of wealth doesn’t interest me,” you grumble, flashing back to the hellish court-ordered summers you once spent at your father’s tasteless mansion with your insufferable half-siblings always crowing about their latest couture conquests.
“Ah. That’s why you hate the Lambo.”
“No, I really do think it’s ugly.” It maybe feels too good to tell him so, after he was so brutally honest to you. However, you can tell immediately that you fail to hit your mark. He lifts his eyebrows, seemingly amused by your agitation, his dark eyes shining.
You look at him sitting across from you in the dappled afternoon light; why does this man have the right to look so beautiful, while he’s being so mean?
“You know what I think?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me,” you grouse. You really would rather be scrubbing a toilet right now.
“I think if you had real money, you would do the exact same thing I do; use it to acquire things that please you. You’re no different from me, or anyone else.”
What is it about this man, that makes you feel like you’re being slowly electrocuted? You dare to meet his gaze, finding his dark eyes veritably dancing with enjoyment for making you squirm. You cannot help but wonder if he counts you as one of those things.
Maybe Donaka Mark thinks you’re an underachiever, but you reckon this man might be surprised by your stubborn streak. No matter your fascination with him…you need to cut him from your heart, because you’re more certain than ever that he would be the death of you. You do not possess a thick enough skin to tangle with a man like this on a regular basis.
“That might be true,” you answer, looking back down at your teacup. “But at least I’m not a bully.”
“Have I hurt your feelings, y/n?”
He fucking knows he has, and you would give anything to be able to quit the table right then. You consider dropping his precious teapot on the way back to the kitchen; but think better of it, and not just because you suspect he might string you up by your thumbs. It would be a tragic loss of art.
“May I go, Mr. Mark?”
“Not until you answer my question.”
“Yes, you hurt my feelings. Now may I go?”
“No. How did I offend you? By speaking the truth?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” you answer with a sigh, looking out at the glittering water beyond.
“Well?”
You make a plaintive sound, wishing the ground would just swallow you up whole, rather than having to admit the truth out loud to this man. But he waits patiently, and you just know there will be no escape for you, until you give this man the answer he wants.
“I thought…you liked me,” you answer quietly. “But never fear, I am disabused of that foolish notion, sir. Now may I go?”
“I do like you. Haven’t you been listening?” He sounds genuinely puzzled.
You laugh at that, and it sounds pathetic even to you.
Now, at last, he seems as frustrated with you as you are with him. “Fine. Go back to work, y/n.” He makes a shooing gesture with his fingers, and you have never been so grateful to be dismissed in your life.
You hope this little interlude will convince him to just leave you alone.
“Thank you, sir,” you say with a cloying deference, and you hear him growl behind you as you scurry away. It sends an agonizing thrill jetting down your spine, and it’s all you can do not to run.
Little do you know, you haven’t scared him off by half. You just threw down a gauntlet.
#donaka mark#donaka mark x reader#donaka mark x you#donaka mark x y/n#keanu reeves x reader#keanu reeves#dark romance#plz be warned#let the games begin...#in which the author just realized she's writing a bully romance#huh who knew 😆
109 notes
·
View notes
Text
The multiple versions of Azriel (aka my problem with Gwynriel’s narrative)
More often than not, I come across the argument that Azriel proved himself to be a creep in the BC. But only towards Elain. With Gwyn, he is a different male. He is and I quote: “Gentle with Gwyn.”
Let it sink in: Azriel is gentle towards Gwyn, but not with Elain.
So let’s check how much this affirmation holds itself when comparing to canon text?
“Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale, golden mass in his arms. He, too, wore his Illyrian armor, Elain’s golden-brown hair snagging in some of the black scales across his chest and shoulders.
He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door.”
ACOWAR - Chapter 24
“Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her.”
ACOWAR - Chapter 50
“Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. ‘Are you hurt?’
She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. ‘You came for me.’
The shadowsinger only inclined his head.”
ACOWAR - Chapter 65
“Elain’s eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel’s scarred hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. ‘It has never failed me once,’ the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. ‘Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.’ He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. ‘It will serve you well.’”
ACOWAR - Chapter 69
“But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, ‘Sit. I’ll take care of it.’ Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. ‘I—I’ll be right back,’ she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she should just sit.”
ACOFAS - Chapter 12
“I made to move toward [Elain], but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly.”
ACOFAS - Chapter 19
Yeah… I’m done.
Please tell me again how brute and creepy Azriel is towards Elain. But keep in mind that you’re misinterpreting all information laid out in the books so far. And… maybe, if you need to twist the books to make your theory works, then it’s not a solid argument at all.
180 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bro-in-law Dandan propaganda
Dandan playing both sides for his sister and Chilchuck.
Chilwife venting about Chilchuck to her brother. "He just never listens! He's so stubborn I'm tired of him!" while Dandan's just nodding and agreeing like "mhm yeah he just doesn't understand what you're doing through when he's gone at all."
Turn around now to Chilchuck, venting to his brother in law aka his closest childhood friend about the same argument. "She just doesn't even try understand how hard it is for me too." And Dandan is once again nodding his head agreeing, "of course not, she doesn't understand just how hard those jobs actually are."
Uncle Dandan, but the girls call him Uncle Dan/Danny. Who's also closest with Puckpatti. Meijack's a daddy's girl, Flertom a mamas girls, and Puckpatti's an uncles girl.
Chilwife bugging Dandan about not being married yet. And tires to get Chilchuck to agree with her and talk to him about it too. But Chilchuck is just like "let the kid do what he wants, he'll find someone eventually."
When he first saw his sister and Meijack after she just gave birth (him being a child) he said Meijack looked like a "wrinkly potato".
Dandan became a dungeon adventurer because of Chilchuck, who tired really really hard to talk him out of it. But Dandan said he didn't plan on going very deep and wanted to stick with treasure hunters instead of hardcore explorers so Chilchuck laid off finally.
"Chilchuck's like the older brother I never had!"
"I'd say Dandan is the little brother I never had, but I have two of them and they're both little shits just like him."
Dandan would always ask how his sisters and nieces were doing when him and Chilchuck would be working at the guild together. But always obviously had more interest in Puckpatti.
"How's my sister?
"She's fine"
"... and Puck?"
"She's fine too, as well as my OTHER girls."
"Right right.. I was just gonna ask about them next!"
Chilchuck and Dandan worked together to form the guild. Dandan taking care of things when Chilchuck was away or on very long jobs.
Chilchuck and Dandan poked at each other a lot as children. But became good friends as adults. Especially when Dandan was old enough to start drinking, Chilchuck was happy to have a new dedicated drinking buddy. They even stayed close after his wife left him, "she left me, not him." Little does Chilchuck know, she actually told her brother she was leaving and why she left. But he never told Chilchuck because she asked him not to.
Dandan making fun of his sister's situation, especially when he was younger. Even if he actually didn't care about them having shotgun wedding, he just thought it was funny.
"This wouldn't have happened if you just kept your legs closed."
"Only I get to call my sister a whore because it's funny. Anyone else who tries dies."
Uncle Dandan telling the girls crazy stories about their parents when they were younger. Stories that the two of them never wanted their kids to know.
Dandan: what's that?
Chilchuck: huh? Oh those are the brothels for adventurers.
Dandan: oh... you never used it did you?
Chilchuck: what? No! Why would you think I'd cheat on my wife?!
Dandan: just making sure...
Since Chilchuck wants to hide his family from work. He has to tell Dandan not to tell anyone that they're in laws. That they're just friends and that's it. And he'd prefer if he didn't bring up his sister or nieces in conversations. Dandan thought he was weird and got a little suspicious. But Chilchuck explained his reasoning and Dandan agreed, it didn't affect him much anyways.
Dandan: so, what are you and my sister fighting about now?
Chilchuck: what? Where did you get that idea from??
Dandan: you've been sleeping in the union quarters for three days straight. So what's she mad at you for this time?
Chilchuck: ...
He's a built in babysitter even if he kinda hates it. But he loves his nieces so it's ok.
When they were estranged he fully believed they'd get back together and wasn't worried about them getting an official divorce at all. And just waved it off every time he was asked about it.
"You kidding? They couldn't keep their hands off each other when we were kids. Practically inseparable. I'm sure they'll talk, realize how much they miss each other, have makeup sex and then go on like none of this ever happened."
Anyways why'd they make him so cute in the anime tf
#chilchuck#dungeon meshi#chilchuck tims#chilchuck's wife#delicious in dungeon#chilchuk dungeon meshi#chilchack#dunmeshi#dandan#this is real I don't take criticism
108 notes
·
View notes
Text
Elriel in ACOFAS
• “You honestly think he’d ever give up truth-teller?”
“He gave it to Elain,” Mor said, admiring a moonstone necklace in the counter’s glass case.
“She gave it back,” I amended, failing to block out the image of the black blade piercing through the king of Hybern’s throat, but Elain had given it back - - had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into her hands before. and then walked away without looking back.
Mor hummed to herself.
•“Send Lucien, then, as our human emissary.”
I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.”
Az’s brows rose. “Where?”
I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?”
Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “i don’t make a point of looking after his movements.”
“Why?”
Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”
I waited.
“It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”
To know when and if Lucien sought her out. what they did together.
“You sure about that?” I asked quietly.
Azriel’s siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea.
“Where did Lucien go?”
• “And you?” I made myself say. “Are you - all right?”
Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer then turned left - to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food.
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face. I’d seen those smiles before, on my own damn face. [… ] Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.
• I strode to my seat - nestled between Amren and Mor - in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.”
Az said nothing.
No, he just moved toward her.
Mor tensed beside him.
But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”
Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. with a blink, she lowered them and noticed her apron. “I-I’ll be right back,” she murmured, and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one cared if she showed up to dinner covered in flour and that she could just sit. Azriel set the potatoes in the center of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to. One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.
Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate. Amren just smirked over the rim of her wine glass. Cassian gawked at him. “Wait for what? Gravy?”
Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”
[…]
“I never knew you were a stickler for manners, Az.”
Azriel only released Cassian’s hand, and stared at his wine glass.
Elain swept in, apron gone and hair rebraided. […]
But Cassian waited until Elain had filled her plate before he took another scoop of anything. As did the others.
• Beyond the windows, darkness had indeed fallen. the longest night of the year. I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s - the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy solstice.”
• “Az, this one’s for you.”
The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present.
Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.”
Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed -
“I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained, Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.”
Silence.
Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you, since you rub your temples so often.”
Silence again.
Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant,” Cassian said.
Elain smiled again, ducking her head.
Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”
• It was three by the time the others went to bed. by the time Cassian returned, quiet and brooding, and knocked back a glass of liquor before stalking upstairs. Mor followed him, worry dancing in her eyes. Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight.
No wonder antis “recommend” to skip ACOFAS
96 notes
·
View notes