#just wondering by any chance 🫣

[oasivy]

would anyone be open to sharing some teen sims with me? (may live in sulani)

[puck-luck]

Hiya Andy!!, could i pretty please order a chai latte with for Luke Hughes !!

(I’m thinking against the glass windows of the apartment 🫣)

WONDERFUL idea!! i started writing a fic like this a while ago but it never ended up going through and you motivated me to make it a reality! and i did have to take a break part of the way too because iiii needed time to daydream about lu

1.4K, warnings: spanking, use of a paddle, dom!luke, exhibitionist-ish, punishment, sir kink, praise, backshots, fingering <3

“Put your hands on the glass and keep them there.”

Luke’s voice is strong and certain. He stands behind you, no doubt staring at the expanse of your naked back.

Your eyes are wide, looking out at the overcast weather outside of the window. The apartment is on one of the top floors of a tall building and it’s late enough that most people are getting ready for bed and closing their blinds rather than gazing out at the city lights around them. No one will see, you tell yourself. The problem is, there’s always a chance that someone will see. That’s what Luke wants.

“Now.”

You lift your palms to the glass, your fingertips making contact first. The glass is cold, freezing against your skin. You feel rooted in place the second you lay your hands flat against the window, shoulder-width apart, hinging forward at the waist just barely. Luke has ample access.

“If I see them move,” Luke warns. “Or drop even an inch, your punishment doubles. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” you confirm meekly.

There’s a crack of Luke’s palm against the sensitive globes of your ass. “Yes…?”

“Yes, sir, I understand,” you correct yourself, breath already hitching from the first spank.

Your fix doesn’t earn you any praise, not yet, but you know it’s coming. Luke never gets very far without telling you how good you are, not when he sees how eagerly you take his punishment. 

“Do you know why I have you against the window?” Luke asks.

“Yes, sir,” you repeat.

“Tell me.”

“You said the next time I act up in public, you’ll punish me where everyone can see.”

“That’s right. Do you know why I’m punishing you today, Y/N?” 

Luke’s hands smooth over your asscheeks and knead the skin, distracting you. You hesitate too long before answering him, which is when Luke’s palm strikes you again and you stifle a whimper.

“You were flirting after the game,” Luke tells you. 

You weren’t, but that’s neither here nor there. You were congratulating Paul for having a good game. 

Luke raises his pitch and mocks you. “Your goal in the second was awesome, Paul,” he says. “I was so impressed.” He bats his hand against your behind. “What about me, baby? Weren’t you impressed by me?”

“I was,” you reply. “I’m always impressed by you, Lu.”

Another spank.

“Sir,” you rectify.

“What impressed you?” Luke asks. “Cotter’s goal, obviously, but what did I do? Since you’re impressed by me all the time, tell me what you liked most.”

Oh, you’re going to pay for this, but you have to spout the first thing that pops into your mind. Luke likes when you get bratty, after all. “I liked that you only fell down twice. That was impressive.”

You work hard to keep your expression clear, as if you’re being genuinely honest and not baiting Luke.

He sees through it, of course. His hand raises and comes down against your ass twice in a row, in the same spot, hard. “That smart mouth of yours,” Luke growls. “It only gets you in trouble. Remember when I said I was only going to make your ass pink, baby?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now I’m going to spank you until you can’t sit down without feeling my handprints on your skin,” Luke tells you. 

It sounds almost like a threat, but a thrill runs through you. Wiggling in place during dinner or while watching a movie because you can’t get comfortable, and seeing the pride in Luke’s eyes when you do? Yes, please.

“What if my hands hurt too much before I’m done with you?” Luke asks. “What should we do then?”

Your heart flutters in your chest, ascending into your esophagus. You’re so turned on that you can’t even form a full sentence for Luke, just one word: “Paddle.”

Luke’s smile stretches from ear to ear. “That’s what I like to hear.” He rubs over your skin possessively, heating it up to prepare you for the rest of your punishment.

You’re a bit of a mess after the first five strikes. Luke kicks your legs further apart after the tenth, and shushes your whimpering, spitting onto each of his palms before he brings them down on your stinging skin. 

“Are you going to flirt with the boys again?” Luke asks as you near the 25th spank. 

“No, sir, I’ll only flirt with you,” you promise in a sweet voice. You weren’t flirting, but you’re getting desperate for Luke to really, really touch you. Between slaps, Luke has stripped down to his boxers and ground his cock, growing harder and harder the more you whine, against your bare pussy. You can see his v-line in the reflection of the glass, disappearing into his boxers, and it’s killing you. The glass is cloudy in front of your face from all of your panting and you can feel sweat beading along the small of your back.

“That’s my good girl,” Luke finally praises. “Can you do five more for me? Then I’ll give you a reward for being so brave, taking everything I gave you.”

You nod. “Mhm, yes, five more. Whatever you want, sir.”

“My hand kind of hurts, sweetheart,” Luke sighs with a grimace. You see him shake it out in the reflection. “Are you sure?”

“Get the paddle, Lu, please,” you beg. Your slip of the tongue will have to wait. “Punish me, make sure I’ll never do it again. I won’t move, I promise.” 

“How about this,” Luke muses. He pulls your hips back, which makes your hands slide down the window until you’re nearly at a 90º angle. “You stay right here and I will be right back.”

You freeze in place, bowing your head and closing your eyes. You’re taking deep breath after deep breath, waiting for Luke to come back. You can see people across the street in their apartment, five floors down, moving around their living room. If they looked up, they’d see you here, gasping and naked. Your legs are spread and your body is flushed and your ass is burning.

Luke taps you with the end of the paddle. It’s lightweight in Luke’s hand, but it feels heavy when Luke wields it. It packs a punch and on a couple of occasions has left you with blemishes on your behind, which Luke has soothed with lotion and massages.

“My girl,” Luke brags, pride bursting from his voicebox. “Almost done.”

“Please, Luke,” you beg again.

“Who?” Luke asks.

“Please, please, sir.” You arch your back and present to Luke, revealing yourself. Your knees buckle slightly when he drags the wood along your round cheeks and his tip, now freed from his boxers, slides along your folds. You mewl.

You lurch forward with each hard smack Luke delivers. You’re biting your bottom lip hard to keep from crying out. Tears are streaming down your face from the pain, but it doesn’t reflect how you actually feel– God, you love when Luke treats you like this, when he takes charge and renders you completely at his mercy. 

The paddle clatters to the ground on the fourth smack. You make an inquisitive sound and lift your head, looking over your shoulder at Luke. “What are you doing?” you ask, eyebrows turned down in worry.

You watch Luke rear back and deliver a harsh, cutting slap right to your pussy. A strangled keen leaves your throat and your hands slide down the glass, body going limp.

Luke shoves two fingers into your cunt, right where his final spank had landed. With his other hand, he fists his cock and strips it, head positioned right over the splotchy red skin decorating your backside.

“You’re so good,” Luke grunts. “You’re perfect. I love watching you like this. You’re so willing to do whatever I ask you…”

“Always, I’ll always do what you want, sir,” you babble, rocking back against Luke’s fingers. 

“Fuck,” Luke curses under his breath, his head tipping back. His Adam’s apple bobs as he moans, cum shooting from his tip and splattering across the bright pink canvas he created. He fits a third finger into your heat and drops his cock, fingers imprinting on your waist. 

The force from his thrusting fingers sends you over the edge and you tip forward until your forehead is flush with the glass, final teardrops leaking from your eyes.

“Good, so beautiful, my pretty girl,” Luke praises in one breath, leaning over you and peppering kisses along your shoulder blades. “Baby, I can’t look away from you.”

“Don’t,” you reply, voice broken.

“I won’t, baby, gonna take care of you all night, okay?” Luke helps you stand upright and turn around, cradling your face and planting a kiss on your lips. “Let’s go get you cleaned up, ‘kay, love? Let’s go, baby.”

[beenbaanbuun]

hii bunny! 🤍🤍

i was wondering if you maybe could write something angsty with mingi? like he’s had a long day and snaps at you a little after seeing your clothes on the floor or something.. like it would never bother him on a normal day but it’s just been a long day for him

it’s not too harsh but it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him have that tone with you so obviously it’s a lot for you 🫣 it doesn’t take him long to realize and regret it but by the time he does you’re already outside on the verge of tears and getting some fresh air.. he basically panics and texts you and calls you 😭 there’s no answer for around 10 minutes and just as he’s about to go outside and look for you, not even bothering throwing an hoodie on, he opens the door and sees you standing there with a little bag with his favorite snacks that you bought for him and he immediately starts apologising

sorry if this is quite specific i just hope it helps a little with your ideas! if you want to change anything you can! you can add smut and make it angsty or you can make it sweet and soft.. maybe even both 🤷‍♀️

i feel like he’s so gentle and definitely would love his partner too much, and just the thought of that he’s upset them could kill him

i cried writing this so i hope you enjoy it 🫡

——————————————————————————

to say that mingi’s day was hard would be an understatement. he barely slept the previous night, the constant beeping of the fire alarm begging for new batteries that they didn’t yet have keeping him awake into the early hours of the morning. he thinks it was sheer exhaustion that sent him to sleep at just gone 4am, and he was equally exhausted when san woke him two hours later for practice. he had half a mind to tell his friend to fuck off and just go back to sleep, but then he heard the beep of the fire alarm and decided he had no chance. he was going to have to stay awake.

then came practice, which was never easy, but for some reason was so much worse today. it started with yunho, who was being so much stricter than usual, jaw clenching and eyes filling with fire if anyone even dared to get a single step wrong. with mingi’s tired brain, he wasn’t afraid to admit that most of those glares were aimed at him; intricate footwork is more difficult when you can hardly string two thoughts together, it seems. annoyance doesn’t help with that either, yet with every pointed look at yunho gets him, he feels his blood boiling more and more.

then you have the troublemakers who seemed to make it their sole purpose today to annoy every single other person in that room. san and wooyoung were naturally loud people, but today they seemed to have the dial turned up to twelve. of course, yeosang was dragged into it too, offering quiet, but not unheard, snarky comments to go along with whatever nonsense the other pair were babbling about. mingi wasn’t sure how much more of that high-pitched cackle he could stand before it made his achy head explode.

and last, but certainly not least, there was hongjoong, perhaps mingi’s biggest issue out of his members. he too seemed to be in a bad mood, but unlike mingi who had yet to retaliate to any of the shit show going on around him, hongjoong just couldn’t seem to shut his mouth. someone misstepped? he’d yell at them. someone misspoke? he’d yell at them. it was just a constant wall of sound coming from his leader and mingi wasn’t sure just how much more he could take until…

“everyone just go,” hongjoong groans, anger and frustration laced through his features. “it’s clear no one is taking it seriously today so just go!”

a miracle.

mingi wastes no time in grabbing his bag and running out of the practice room without even a glance back at his members. perhaps later he’ll text them and let them know where he is, but for now he just needs you. he needs your arms to wrap around him and keep him warm as he sleeps. he needs your voice to float around his brain as he drifts away. he needs you.

he’s thankful that you live close because before he knows it, he’s at your door, fishing your key from his pocket. he fiddles with it excitedly, scraping it against the door a few times by accident before finally slipping it into the keyhole. he twists it and pushes it open, expecting to find you buzzing around your apartment like a cute little bumble bee.

instead he’s met with silence and darkness, curtains still drawn and your lively little self nowhere to be seen. there’s pots in the sink, mess strewn across the floor and the trash bag from last night still propped up by the door. mingi lets out a long sigh.

he knows it’s wrong of him to feel annoyed by all of this, and normally he wouldn’t. it’s just after the day he’s had, all he wanted was to cuddle up to you in a nice tidy, stress-free apartment. now he has to take your load on his shoulders as well. he has to pick up your pieces whilst he’s still desperately trying to hold all of his together. but this is it; this is his last straw, and the irritation and frustration he’s been barely holding back all day suddenly bursts free of its dam. he cant stop himself as he kicks off his shoes, not caring where they go (it’s not like it’ll make any difference with the state your apartment in is anyway) and storms his way down the hallway to your bedroom.

your door is already open, and through it he can see you still in bed. you’re curled up under the quilt, just like he has wanted to be all day. just like he hasn’t been able to because he has been busy. for some reason it only fills him with more annoyance, and he steps over the threshold into your room and slams the door behind him.

he can see that the sound startles you, but he can’t find it in him to care. he just stares down at you, a mixture of anger and disappointment twisting his features as you groggily sit up to look at him. your eyes are red, as are your cheeks, but mingi just brushes it off. the painful pang in his chest upon seeing you like that is hardly enough to outweigh everything else he feels.

“really?” he bends down to pick up a t-shirt before holding it up to show you. you stare at it blankly, not sure what he’s trying to get at.

“what’s wrong, mingi?” your voice is strained as if you’d been crying recently. if mingi wasn’t so blinded by everything, perhaps he would’ve noticed how fragile you seem to be. perhaps he’d be able to take a step back and see that you need him to comfort you, not berate you. it’s a shame his head is too full of his own feelings to even consider yours.

“what’s wrong?” he scoffs, throwing his arms up in exasperation, “this! everything!” he gestures wildly around your room as if it explains anything. “i don’t need to deal with this shit right now, baby! i can’t!”

he watches as your brows furrow in confusion, hurt washing over your features. there’s something in his that tells him that it’s enough, that he’s said and done too much already, but there’s still more on the tip of his tongue and he needs to get it out of him before he bursts.

“i have enough on my plate without having to take care of you, alright?” his voice comes out harsher than he means it to, more of a shout than anything else, and by the way your expression tightens, he can tell he’s hurt you.

that’s when it all sinks in for him, when you hum, nodding your head slowly as his words echo around your brain. your eyes look down at your hands, thumbs picking at one another awkwardly. he’s said too much, gone too far, he can understand that now. like, really understand it. he should’ve stayed silent. ignored the shit spewed across the floor and crawled into your bed like he’d been wanting to do all day.

well shit, he thinks to himself, he never meant to hurt you. he doesn’t know what he wanted to do by telling you those things, but this wasn’t it.

“sorry,” is all you say when you toss the comforter off your legs. you’re dressed in the same clothes that he saw you in yesterday; had you slept in them? “i, uh… i’ll get out of your hair for a little while, mingi. it seems like you need a little alone time… you’re stressed.” and with that you stand up. mingi lets you, unsure of what to say to you as you grab your wallet from your nightstand and push past him. your hand feels like a hot iron pressed against his shoulder as you side-step him, and he almost, almost, goes to catch it.

before he can, you’re gone, and all he does is stand there as he listens to you open the door and walk out of the apartment.

your apartment.

he sits on your bed, twisting his hands into the comforter as he tries to ground himself. he’d kicked you out of your own apartment because of what? he doesn’t even know himself. he can’t wrap his head around the sudden burst of anger that washed over him like a tsunami. there was no escape from it until it passed, and now he’s left with with aftermath; the pain of upsetting you.

he knew from the moment he stepped in your apartment that you weren’t doing well. the drawn blinds, the pots left over from last night; he’s seen it time and time again and he’s never been upset at you for it. there’s been no anger or frustration there. no cross words or disappointment. nothing except sympathy and the desire to make everything okay for you again.

so, what? he got jealous because you were allowed to sit and wallow in your bad mood and he wasn’t? he got mad that coming to your apartment wasn’t the perfect whirlwind of softness and affection that he’d hoped for? god, he feels pathetic for how he treated you. even more so at the fact that he still feels so desperate for your comfort. he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but holy fuck does he need it.

he lets himself sit there in the pain for just a little while longer. perhaps if he lets himself hurt enough, he might deserve to have you back in his arms. if he repents, everything might be okay again. you’ll forgive him for what he said to you and hold him gently like he needs. you’ll whisper sweet words and kiss his head like he wants. you’ll be kind to him despite the fact that he hasn’t been kind to you. you’ll let him rest…

when he feels enough time has passed, he slips a hand into his pocket to grab his phone. there’s a message or two from his members asking where he went, but he ignores them. they can wait, you can’t. he locates you contact, pressing his thumb against the call button and letting it ring. a few seconds pass before he hears it loud and clear; your phone in the other room. he perks up a little—maybe you’re still here! his legs carry him faster than he can process. he swings the door open with little care about the way it slams against your dresser, and tumbles into the kitchen… where your phone is abandoned… with you nowhere to be seen.

mingi’s heart plummets even further. you’re gone, and now he won’t even have a way to know that you’re safe. it’s still daylight outside but what if you get lost? what if you stay out too long and it gets dark? what if you need him? he lets out a cry of stress, hands flying up to grip his bleached locks tightly in his hands. he feels fucking useless.

for just a moment he lets himself play the blame game with himself. it’s his fault. all of it is. anything could be happening to you and it would be his fault. he upset you and he let you leave! it’s all him, him, him… that makes it his to fix too.

he doesn’t let himself think as he walks over to the door. he doesn’t bother with a jacket, his brain telling him it would take too much time to slip it onto his shoulders. hell, he barely bothers with his shoes! just slips his feet in, not sparing a single thought to the way his feet are currently crushing the backs down. that’s the least of his worries, anyway. he can buy new shoes, he can’t replace you.

his hand reaches out to grab the door handle. it’s just centimetres away, almost close enough to grab it. his fingers begin to curl around the metal, but someone else gets there first. the handle dips down, and the door creeks as it opens just the tiniest bit. mingi gasps, moving at the speed of lighting to pull the door even wider. he knows exactly who’s on the other side, and his desperation to see you can’t be contained. he barely even looks at you before scooping you up into his arms.

“ouch, mingi,” you squirm as he holds you tighter than you think you’ve ever been held before. “you’re trapping my hair! let go, you giant oaf.”

he doesn’t, but he does loosen his grasp just a touch. not enough to let you fully breathe again, but just so you can save your hair from being pulled from your head. you’re grateful for that, at least, but it doesn’t stop you from trying to wriggle free. “let me go,” you reiterate, body still moving as he holds you against his broad chest, “i need to give you something but i can’t when you have me trapped!”

“you don’t need to give me anything,” he pouts as he presses a wet kiss against your hairline. it’s all very sweet, but you can’t help but feel like now is not the time.

“yes i do!” you twist your body in a way that makes it impossible for mingi to keep hold of you, gasping in a dramatic fashion as if you’d been starved of oxygen completely. mingi can’t help but smile at your performance, even if his arms do feel a little too empty now you’re not in them. you are absolutely adorable, after all. “i need to give you this because it’ll melt otherwise.”

that’s when he notices the clear plastic bag in your hand. if he looks carefully, he can just about make out the pint of hazelnut ice cream and the bag of shrimp chips; his favourites. confused, he brings his gaze back up to your face, noticing the shy smile that rests on your lips as you raise the bag up for him to take. “for me?” he asks. you only give him a quick nod in response. “but… why?”

when he doesn’t take the bag, you roll your eyes and stomp past him to the kitchen. it hits the counter with a thud, and mingi flinches. are you angry with him? of course, you have every right to be but if he’s being honest, he’s rather that you weren’t. he really needs you right now. he slinks up behind you, watching as you busy yourself with taking the snacks out of the bag. his arms ache with the desire to be wrapped tightly around your waist, but he somehow manages to hold himself back.

“because you’re obviously not doing good,” you say as you yank the cutlery drawer open to grab two spoons. it doesn’t go unnoticed when you pull out the flat one with the thin handle alongside the deep one with the heavy handle; his and your favourite spoons, respectively. his chest aches with love as you, actually rather violently stab the container with both of them. he always has loved your silly little antics.

“yeah, well you’re not doing good either,” he tries to argue, but you shut him up with a glare.

“me not doing well doesn’t mean i can’t try to help you when you’re not doing well,” you shrug as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “my feelings don’t negate your feelings and i love you, so i want to try and help you.” whether it’s a loaded statement or not, mingi can’t help but understand the irony. either you’re trying to teach him a lesson or the universe is. judging by the look in your eyes, he thinks it’s safe to assume that it’s you.

“i get it,” he nods, “i’m sorry for being a dick, you don’t deserve that.”

“i don’t deserve it, but i do understand it and i’m not going to torture you for it when it’s obvious you’ve been torturing yourself,” you point a finger up to his messed up hair, “what i am going to do is get in bed with you and eat a shit ton of ice cream, capeesh?”

“yeah, baby,” he smiles, “capeesh…”

[daydreamkissesxo]

Father Charlie x reader| Sinner pt 6; Death is the only salvation

A/N; this is pure chaos and I am so sorry🫣

Mentions of murder, hospitals, medical terms, kidnapping, manipulation, swearing, blasphemy, dark dark themes (I hope I didn’t forget anything)

It had been seven months since you'd left with your daughter and Father Charlie was still no closer to locating you.

He'd heard from one of the sisters that your mother was just as distraught as she was the first time you'd gone missing, but he was in no position to comfort her this time.

The thought of losing you was painful, but the thought of losing his little girl was even worse.

He'd missed out on important milestones, her first smile or the first time she'd tried a delicious ice cream, he'd definitely missed out on hearing her first word.

He knew what he'd done to you was unforgivable, but he was an attentive father and your decision to kidnap his child was far more damaging than anything he'd ever done.

He'd often lay awake at night wondering where you were, whether another man had taken on the role of daddy to his darling girl.

Every spare minute he had was spent calling every motel in the next town and the town over from that, and despite there being no sighting of you, he never lost hope.

His desperation was so great he even considered leaving the church altogether so he could search for you in person, determined to search the ends of the earth if he had to.

It was a random call at 3am one morning that he'd finally gained information of your whereabouts, a motel owner that Father Charlie had once called and left a description of you with had claimed to have seen a young woman matching it.

Desperate to catch you before you'd inevitably move again, Father Charlie had made the decision to make the journey the very same hour.

The motel was a four hour drive away but he was determined to get there quicker, even if it meant endangering his life by dangerous driving.

He'd regretted not asking if anyone other than your daughter had accompanied you that night, the thought of any man sleeping beside you made him viciously angry but the thought of actually having to see it made him murderous.

While he was regretful of his actions, he was hopeful that they'd have at least ruined any chance of you ever trusting another man in your lifetime.

Father Charlie could tolerate most things in regards to your life after him, but replacement was never going to be one of them.

Father Charlie had arrived at the roadside motel at 6:45am exactly, it wasn't a place you'd take a child but in desperation it would suit anyone's needs.

The run down building and the shady characters that hung around outside were clear signs it was accommodating to all, it left him somewhat concerned about the conditions his dear daughter would be staying in.

He quickly retrieved a cash filled envelope from the glove compartment before slipping it into his coat's inner pocket and exiting the car.

He carefully stepped over the drunken man slumped in the doorway of the dingy motel before entering, the strong stench of alcohol lingering in the reception area was headache inducing.

"You here about that woman and her kid?" A man asked from behind the desk, he looked as rough as the motel itself.

"Yes, are they still here?" Father Charlie replied, stepping closer to the desk before reaching into his pocket for the envelope.

The man glanced down at the envelope with pure greed, he didn't care what Father Charlie wanted or why he was so keen to find you, he was simply after the reward.

Father Charlie watched as the man placed a key onto the counter, the small keyring attached was engraved with your supposed room number.

"Second door on the left." The man informed, sliding the key closer to the edge of the counter.

Father Charlie exchanged the key for the envelope of cash, watching as the man's eyes lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

It sickened him to know someone was profiting off of his misery, but information of your whereabouts was worth the world's weight in gold.

There wasn't even as much as a thank you from either men, both satisfied with what they'd just received that it just felt even.

Father Charlie left the motel reception in search of your room and when he'd finally arrived, his mind had become torn on how he should approach the situation.

He wanted to punish you for what you'd done, he thought about snatching your daughter and fleeing in the same cruel way you did, or perhaps torturing you into sincerely apologising as he knew no sane woman would be apologetic towards someone like him.

His hand trembled both with anger and fear, fear towards himself as he worried just what he'd do when he'd finally set eyes on you.

Upon entering the damp ridden motel room, father Charlie was left confused as there was no sight of you or your daughter, but there were also no signs to suggest anyone was even staying there.

He was furious, either the shady man behind the counter has taken advantage of his desperation or you'd fled before he got the chance to confront you.

He checked the room regardless, almost breaking the bathroom door off the hinges in a rage as he flung it open.

It was as he was exiting the room that he spotted a familiar plushie tucked away beside the double bed, a small white bunny he'd gifted his daughter the very day she was born.

Father Charlie crouched down to pick it up, he held it in his hand as he examined just how loved it had been, the visible discolouration from the constant cuddling and the tiny little stains probably from all the travels she'd taken it on.

Discovering the bunny felt like a sign from god himself, it further fuelled his determination to find his beautiful little girl as she was now not only without her father but her bunny too.

He held the bunny close as he left the unoccupied motel room, knowing that you can't have gone far given both the time and the fact your daughter would have undoubtedly had you return for her bunny, he headed towards his car.

The distant sound of a young child crying pulled him out of his thoughts, it wasn't a familiar cry but one that would make any parent instinctively turn their heads.

Father Charlie glanced over at the car parked directly opposite his, and in an amazing turn of events, there you stood as you attempted to console your distressed daughter.

The small child in your arms had grown dramatically since the last time he'd seen her, she could now hold the weight of her own head and fit comfortably against your hip instead of occupying both arms.

She had perfectly plump cheeks, and a head of visibly soft hair, enough to tie back in a tiny ponytail.

Father Charlie could wait no longer, he stormed over and pulled at one of your arms in an attempt to spin you around to face him.

Your fear filled eyes met his and your arms instinctively wrapped around your daughter to shield her from the monster in human form.

"Stay away from us." You warned, attempting to sound brave despite the wavering of your voice.

He looked visibly wounded by the fear you displayed, he'd never considered himself as scary as you attempted to portray.

He took a step closer regardless of your warning, reuniting his daughter with her bunny would end her distress and reuniting with her would end his.

"Here, sweetheart. Look.." he whispered softly as he held the bunny up high enough for her to see, he'd noticed the way you flinched as his hand came closer and it made him nauseas.

Your daughter's small hand reached out for the bunny, and in return for her plushie she flashed her father a shy smile, one that made him smile warmly in return.

You allowed your daughter to retrieve her bunny, but you were in no way going to allow father Charlie to force his way back into your lives.

"I mean what I say, stay away from us." You calmly warned once more as you turned away from him, opening the front passenger door to place your daughter into her car seat.

Knowing that your daughter would be safe and secure in her car seat as he unleashed his rage on you was the only reason he hadn't fought to stop you, you just weren't aware of it.

He waited for you to close her door before stepping in front of you to stop you from walking around to the drivers side.

"It's funny how protective you are of her considering I was the one who stopped you from aborting her." He said casually, that same sinister expression staring back at you.

You were horrified at his crass comment, he always had a way with words and he always knew how to hurt you without even getting physical.

"I regret visiting that clinic, I really do." You confidently replied, boldly stepping closer as fear had very quickly been replaced with fury.

"But I regret what I did with you even more."

Your attempt to get under his skin was successful, he was allowed to regret it but you certainly weren't, your entire existence was only meant to be for him.

He refused to believe there was any truth in your words, you couldn't be as brazen as him even in desperation.

"You'd say anything to get me to leave you alone right now, but I'm not leaving my daughter! You can't deny her of a father." He asserted, stepping aside as you did to further block your way.

"This is harassment! I will call the police!" You angrily replied, struggling to push yourself past him as the car parked beside yours left you little to no room.

"Who the hell would believe you over a priest?!" He laughed, finding your threat all too amusing.

The mention of the police made him realise just how much easier it would be for him to retrieve his daughter as he could make any wild claim and they'd be trusting of him, so instead of fighting he simply stood aside.

"Please, call them."

You were naively unaware of his intentions, instead believing that he had finally come to his senses in letting you go.

You stepped around him and he turned to watch you as you began to walk around to the opposite side of the car.

You abruptly stopped and turned to face him once more, every last insult you'd waited to hurl at him springing to the front of your mind at once, and if it were to be the last time you ever saw him you'd definitely want him to hear what you now truly thought of him.

"I pray to god you're struck by fucking lightning one day, that or you're in some freak accident. You're no priest, you're the devil." You harshly spat, your expression both sour and resentful as you glared at him.

The smirk that grew on his face fuelled your rage even further, he was so sickeningly shameless it almost made your skin crawl.

You nervously laughed in response, your feet involuntary took several steps back while your head shook in utter disbelief.

"You need serious help, and I don't mean from the Lord. I mean real fucking help, you're a psycho!" You added, unaware that the distance you'd unknowingly created left you standing in the middle of the car park with a far distance between you and your car.

Father Charlie calmly shrugged off your insults, he took a step closer but the sound of a roaring engine prevented him from taking any more.

You were so preoccupied with your anger for father Charlie that you failed to register the car approaching at high speed, it was a matter of milliseconds before the vehicle's bonnet not only collided with your body but harshly knocked it onto the ground.

The impact was so brutal it left you immediately unconscious, there was a growing pool of blood surrounding your head that coated the gravel beneath it.

Father Charlie froze in shock, the timing was impeccable considering the mouthful you were giving him and your daughter was now free to take for himself.

He glanced over at the clearly intoxicated driver, unsure whether to thank him or curse him for what he'd just done to the woman he cared so deeply for but he was robbed of either chance as the driver reversed before conveniently swerving off.

Father Charlie remained still as he looked over at your lifeless body, his eyes scanned over every inch of you and for a brief moment he felt conflicted on what was best to do.

He could save you and risk losing his daughter once more, or he could simply take his child and allow her to finally live in peace.

Upon arrival at the hospital the doctors quickly confirmed you'd suffered several fractured ribs along with a punctured lung, internal bleeding, bruising to the chest and abdomen as well as a traumatic brain injury.

Your still unconscious body endured several scans before you were rushed into emergency surgery to repair your pneumothorax.

Father Charlie sat patiently in the hospital cafeteria, your daughter had fallen asleep in his arms and the peace had finally given him time to think of his next move, something he did quite often

After your successful surgery, you were then placed in the intensive care unit to be monitored as the doctors waited for you to awaken.

You were placed on a ventilator to aid your breathing post operation, while several tubes connected to your lungs rest across your chest and hung down beside your bed to drain the internal bleed.

Father Charlie sat in the armchair beside your hospital bed, your daughter sat on his lap as he held her close, he was amazed by how quickly she'd grown as the last time he'd held her at your bedside was the day of her birth.

He quickly came to realise that perhaps if he had not lied to your mother that day, the two of you may have been in completely different circumstances, and he wouldn't be sitting beside your now unconscious body.

He slid one of his hands into his trouser pockets to retrieve the small silver cross pendant that he'd hoped to have given you the day you left, he took a moment to admire it before extending his arm to place the pendant into your open hand.

"Mommy's going to get better, isn't she sweetheart?" He rhetorically asked, turning his attention back towards your daughter before lifting his hand to softly stroke her hair.

The gentle moment between father and daughter was soon interrupted by the sound of a loud bang, Father Charlie looked up only to be met with your mother bursting through the door in such urgency that the door handle at collided with the wall.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed in panic, rushing to the opposite side of your bedside to gain a closer look at the injuries you'd sustained, she was yet to register that your daughter was sat on Father Charlie's lap.

"What the hell happened to her?" She asked, fighting off tears as she didn't want to cause further distress to your daughter.

It hadn't occurred to your mother that Father Charlie was always at the scene of your misfortunes, perhaps she was always too trusting of him, but the way he held your daughter made her question everything she thought she knew.

Your mother glanced down at the small child in his arms, growing increasingly concerned for her welfare as she believed the man that held her was nothing more than a stranger.

Father Charlie held your daughter closer as your mother began to walk around the bed towards him, his one hand gently holding the back of her head while the other hand held her mid back.

"Thank you for all of your help, Father..but I'll take it from here." Your mother said calmly, holding her arms out for him to hand your daughter over.

His resistance was unnerving and her thoughts began to spiral, had there always been a sinister twinkle in Father Charlie's eyes?

"I'd like to take my granddaughter now."

Father Charlie shook his head, standing from his seated position to take several steps back in hope of creating a fair distance between himself and your mother.

"I won't be handing her over to you, She's MY daughter. I've ordered a fast track DNA test so you'll get the confirmation soon enough." He calmly informed her, his thumb softly stroking the small girls back in an attempt to comfort her.

Your mother stared at him in absolute horror, her eyes wide while a montage played within her mind of all the times she'd unknowingly allowed you to be alone in his company.

She very nearly fainted from the shock, her trembling hand reached out for the frame of the hospital bed to support herself as her knees threatened to buckle.

"That day you supposedly found her.."

Your mother was breathless, panicked and in utter disbelief as the man she'd believed helped her daughter was the very cause of her suffering.

"Yes, she'd been there all along. She spent her pregnancy with me." He confirmed, shrugging it off so casually despite seeing the state your mother was now in.

"You didn't look very far, Perhaps you should reflect on your poor parenting skills? Some of us haven't stopped searching for our daughters." He cruelly added, cradling your daughter tenderly as if he were taunting your mother by remaining in possession of the little girl.

Your mother looked at him in absolute disgust, she felt physically nauseas now she'd been made aware of his manipulative ways.

"You chose the wrong family to do this to. I will expose the real you to every single one of the parishioners, to every bishop I can find." She replied through gritted teeth, remaining calm for the sake of your darling daughter.

Father Charlie looked at her in amusement, shaking his head at what he considered a pathetic attempt at a threat.

"Your daughter is unconscious, and I'm currently the only active guardian of your granddaughter..is it wise to make such threats?" He asked, tilting his head very slightly as his sadistic smile grew.

"You should leave, Y/N deserves to rest in peace."

His very clever choice of words paired with the current state of your body left your mothers entire body trembling, she came to the conclusion that Father Charlie was the one responsible for the accident in some psychotic revenge plot.

She feared what may happen if she were to leave, but she also feared what could happen if she'd refused to and given the state you were already in, your daughter's life was her current concern.

"I'll be back later to check on my daughter." She said timidly, raising her hand to nervously pull the strap of her handbag further onto her shoulder as she rushed out.

Father Charlie glanced down at your daughter as she lifted her head to look up at him, her infectious little smile causing him to chuckle despite his anger.

"That grandmother of yours is a silly woman, isn't she?" He asked, expecting no answer at all but a tiny squeal from her took him completely by surprise.

The big beautiful eyes that stared up at him held more light than the entire world possessed, and it was during that moment that he'd finally realised the two of you should have only ever prioritised her happiness irregardless of what either of you felt towards one another.

You woke from your unconscious state later that evening, your entire body ached as if you'd been hit by a ten tonne boulder but your only concern was your daughter's whereabouts.

Father Charlie was sat in the hospital cafeteria with your daughter when a nurse informed him of your awakening, he wasn't in a rush to greet you as he enjoyed the thought of letting you panic, just as he panicked when you'd ran off with his child.

When he did decide to return to your room thirty minutes later, he walked in so casually with your daughter sat on his hip while she held a small bouquet of daisies.

Despite the overwhelming pain in your chest and abdomen you'd managed to push yourself to sit up, ready to take your child from his hands as he walked over but instead he took the seat beside your bed.

"We got you these beautiful flowers." He said as he placed them into your lap, his sinister tone no longer lingering.

"Didn't we, sweetheart?" He asked as he turned to look down at your smiling daughter who sat happily on his lap, he loved how much she cared for him as she was the last thing tying the two of you together.

"Give me my daughter." You demanded through gritted teeth, groaning softly in agony as you attempted to reach for her.

"Did you know that daisies represent a fresh start?" He asked, casually dismissing your demand and clear display of pain.

"You're in no fit state to take care of yourself let alone our daughter, I'll be here to take care of you both." He added, looking up from your daughter to finally see the look of disgust staring back at him.

"Over my dead fucking body will I ever let you back into our lives." You spat back, tears of hatred beginning to flood your waterline.

Father Charlie chuckled in amusement, he could have very easily left your unconscious body on the car park gravel to take your daughter, but he didn't.

"The secret is out Y/N. Your mother knows all about our filthy little secret, so either appreciate my honesty and start complying..or I can make things very difficult for your family."

You couldn't even register his threat, the thought of your mother knowing the truth made your stomach twist in painful knots, your throat felt as if a sharp knife had been wedged into it as it became harder to even breathe.

"You should have seen the look on her face..god, she looked so ashamed."

His tone was so scarily casual as his words carved into your heart, his intention was once again to scare you into compliance.

"Imagine how she'd feel knowing that her daughter was so fickle, that she ruined the life of her church's priest by not only seducing him, but purposely impregnating herself simply for a bit of fun." He added, twisting the truth as he often did best.

You shook your head in disagreement with his false statement, your trembling hand clutched at the duvet beside as you could barely contain your anger.

"That's a lie. It's all lies! You're a liar!" You exclaimed, your free hand held the left side of your chest as it began to throb in pain from your sudden tenseness.

Father Charlie rolled his eyes in annoyance for your outburst, it felt it completely unnecessary given the condition you were in.

"We're going to be a family, Y/N. I'm going to give up my priesthood and renew my medical license. I've found a house in a gated community, it's perfect." He sounded so enthusiastic, oddly prepared considering you'd been in a potentially deadly accident earlier in the day.

Ultimately you had no choice but to comply, you were once again trapped in his web of manipulation as you feared the shame of your mother and your community more than you even feared death.

He was correct, you were in no fit state to take care of yourself or your child so until you were able to plan one final escape, the two of you were left in his care.

Taglist; @targaryenswhxre @psychocitylights @yoongling @malf-azx @laviedemarii @makky444 @melaninjhs @strnqer 🫶🏼

[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Being Team Japan’s Manager:

Miss Manager is Great with Kids

Team Japan x Female Manager (she/her)

Warnings: swearing, obviously kids (sometimes they are scary 🫣)

Request here

AN: I apologize if this isn’t the best 😅

You know what’s really funny YN?

The similarities between being Team Japan’s manager and working in a preschool

Honestly it’s pretty much the same thing

Iwa drops the kids off for their morning practice

Yaku yells at them, scolding them for not playing nicely with the other team members

You have to remind them to eat and take bathroom breaks

Essentially, the same 💅

Which is why your transition from teaching to being team Japan’s manager was so easy

The guys 👉🏻 instantly love you

Was there really any doubt?

Of course, some of them *cough* ATSUMU *cough* HOSHIUMI *cough* make it their life goals to be hard on you

You can’t tell me they aren’t annoying and finicky about literally everything 🙄

But once again, it’s fine because you’ve dealt with snotty, marker covered kids pretty much your entire life

Literally these guys have nothing on a group of 3 year olds

The guys never really asked much about your previous job, not really caring much about where you came from before you started with them

Aran would occasionally bring up the subject but you’d just shrug, answering, “a little of this, a little of that.”

Let’s be honest, there’s no conversation that doesn’t involve volleyball lasting for more than 5 seconds in the Gym

Especially with Atsumu, Kageyama, Hinata and Bokuto

Guys really think that other occupations don’t even compare to Volleyball so why waste the time talking about it

However 👀 the boys would soon find out just how much they should have asked about your prior employment

Because you see, Kuroo had a little something up his sleeve to help promote Team Japan

“Come again?” Asked Gao

“A kids camp! Ages 4 to 9!” Kuroo excitedly explained

“Count me out,” Sakusa groaned

“You really think it’s a good idea for little kids to be running around while we practice?” Kageyama questioned

“Well you would t be practicing, it would strictly be for the kids,” Kuroo responded

“NO PRACTICE!” Screamed Atsumu, Kageyama, Hinata and Bokuto in unison

Iwa narrowed his eyes as you tried to keep a straight face, “listen here, if you don’t participate, I’ll have coach bench you and give your number up!”

The group immediately straightened up as Kuroo smirked

“Maybe it won’t be so bad? I mean it’s only for a couple hours right?” Komori responded

The guys all nodded as you tried your best to keep your composure

A week later, the camp was underway and let’s just say, it was going about as well as Seijoh’s chances of going to nationals 🫠

“Oh my go- gosh!” Atsumu shouted, stopping himself again from nearly letting out a bad word in front of the children

“These kids are actually feral!” Hoshiumi screamed, trying to wrangle two kids who were throwing volleyballs up into the bleachers

“I thought these kids were suppose to like volleyball!?!” Aran asked

“I never said that,” Kuroo chimed in, as he and Akaashi watched form the sidelines

Akaashi was there to do a special report on the teams event as well as take in the free entertainment

Bokuto and Hinata were rolling around on the floor, attempting (huge emphasis on ATTEMPT) to show the kids receiving

Sakusa was sitting with a group of kids who were “too cool” for this

Ushiwaka had already made 3 kids cry just by walking up to them

Iwa had left to cool down because he was at his breaking point

And you, well you had seen enough

Suddenly, Kuroo watched as you grab the microphone and headed to the middle of the gym

“Hey kids, who wants to see a professional athlete serve?” You shouted as all the kids (yes I’m including the athletes) looked over at you

Suddenly, screams and shouts filled the air as all the kids flocked towards you

The guys, Kuroo and Akaashi, included all watched in wonder

“Ok we all need to sit in the chairs because this guys serves can be either really good or really bad. Atsumu, show them!”

Atsumu rn 👉🏻👁️👄👁️ HEY MY SERVES ARENT BAD!

“I’d say it’s 50/50,” Sakusa chimed in as Atsumu growled

“Hey how come I don’t get to show them my serves Yn?” Kageyama grumbles

“Tobio you’ll get a chance just calm down and wait your turn ok?”

After the show of serves, you again grabbed the kids attention

“Ok so who wants to try spiking??” You ask as a million tiny hands shoot up

“Ok everyone get in line, littlest to oldest, and we will all get a chance to practice!”

You made your way to the nets, team and children following you like little ducks as you began to coordinate

Iwa watched in awe as your skills, impressed at your ability to manage such a wide age range

I mean 💅 this is Yn Iwa, what did you expect?

After the event, the kids all came up to you after getting their autographs and gave you a big hug

“Thanks so much Miss Yn!” They all smiled as they ran to their parents

“YN why didn’t you tell us you were good with kids?” Yaku asked

You just shrugged, “it never came up.”

“I mean it makes sense, look how good she is with the other idiots,” Iwa said, nodding over to the feral group

“OMG YN THAT WAS SO FUN! Can we do that again??” Bokuto screamed, jumping up and down

“We deal with enough children daily so no,” Sakusa said, turning to leave going to the locker room

“What kids- HEY WHAT THE HELL OMI??” Atsumu yelled

You just smiled, knowing your boys were the best kids around 😌

[zaynes-pookie]

Hi! 💖

I hope you have a nice afternoon! I was wondering if by any chance you could recommend me some blogs related to love and deepspace, please. ☺️

Hello!

I happily can recommend you some! I want to start by saying I love all those blogs and thanks all the writers for their time and energy on those fic. It is an honour to be able to read them and you make this fandom amazing🤍! Here I go:

PS: This is going to be a list I’ll update as I discover more🥰

@loveanddeepthroat

Just some fun headcanon and beautiful fic🥰

@jinwoosbabyboo

I love their writtings! It makes the boys feel so alive and just super fun overall with a lot of different scenarios!

@aeyumicore

One of my favorite. I think I read everything on their masterlist 3 times🫣

@tbaluver

Super cute and hot scenarios to read and a fun blog too🤍

@mephisto-reporting

Their "I love you" series and Jealousy Sylus fic are the best. Make my heart squeeze anytime i read them again!

@chuluoyi

I go see this blog once a day at least... 🫣Super fun and really would recommend!

[nastyenemyeater]

Rockstar Choso 🫣👹🎸🥁- FANFIC

I saw some tiktoks about Choso being a drummer and it gave me some ideas.

Here are the links :

SHOUT OUT TO NARUTOSS.RAMEN

either way here's the plot : basically Y/n got cheated on by her bf at a club and she got revenge by kissing the drummer of 'The curses' rockstar band .

“Look Y/n isn’t that Nathan?” asked your best friend, pointing at a guy during a hardcore kissing session with a random girl.

The blasting music, the heat in the club and the moving people passing by and occasionally shoving you to pave their way, were not helping you in any way digest the scene you just witnessed.

Your knees felt weak, your heartbeat increased considerably, memories flashed by, tears started overflowing and millions of questions exploded inside your head “why? Am I dreaming? Why did he cheat so easily? Did he even love me?”

“Go confront him Y/n! What are you waiting for? The fuck??” shouted your best friend, shaking you fervently and bringing you back to the hell.

You couldn’t. Or you thought it didn’t matter anymore.

“That motherfucker” you seethed in anger.

Alcohol was all you could think about. Yes, you needed to drink a shit ton of it. After all, you came to the club to enjoy your Saturday night. You didn’t plan on having your heart broken but … life never goes how you want it right?

You made your way to the bar, jaw clenched, eyes burning with anger and determined to drown the night’s misery in alcohol. The bartender handed you the strongest shot of vodka, and you backed at least five of them. Each one went down smoother than the last, but the pain refused to fade.

"Maybe I should just make out with the first guy that comes along," you thought bitterly, resting your head on your arms as you looked to your left.

Unexpectedly, a pair of dark, hazy eyes were already locked on you. He sat back against the bar, elbows resting casually behind him. His dark, messy hair clung to his sweaty forehead, framing his sharp features – a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and tired, yet piercing eyes that studied you intently. Tattoos snaked up his neck and down his muscular arms, accentuated by the sleeveless black shirt that clung to his broad frame. His legs were spread wide, exuding a quiet confidence and control.

Without thinking, you locked eyes with him, staring intently with no thoughts, just an empty, heated gaze. A faint smirk played on his lips as he stared back, silent but sharp, as if he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Whatch’you lookin’ at?” he asked with an amused tone, breaking the silence between you two.

You didn’t have the strength to engage in any conversation yet, and all you could do was stare at him. Being in that inebriating state made easy for you to prolongate the eye contact.

He let out a low chuckle, stood from his seat and made his way toward you.

But before he could take another step, 2 other guys suddenly pulled him away, dragging him toward the other side of the bar. A chaotic stream of girls followed, screaming some names as they swarmed after them.

You watched as he winked at you before disappearing into the crowd. Despite the commotion, you remained rooted to your spot, an amused smile playing on your lips as you took in the scene.

“Wow, they must be somebody for them to get followed liked this” you wondered. You groaned loudly as you realized your mistake “Fuckkk ! I just blew my chance … fuck fuck fuck … Uh give me another one please” you said, asking for another shot to forget about this massive fail.

By now, the alcohol coursing through your veins made you feel more at ease, braver, and a little reckless. Confidence surged with every beat of the rock music that pounded through the club, filling your body with raw energy. The tension that had been building up inside you needed an outlet, and before you knew it, you found yourself weaving through the crowd toward the dance floor.

You moved with purpose, shaking off the accumulated stress with each step. The crowd was electric, and soon you managed to slip right to the front of the stage, where you spotted the two guys who had dragged your "new friend" away earlier. They were performing, and you finally recognized them as The Curses, a rockstar band.

You also spotted your "new friend" as their drummer. His name was Choso apparently.

The music reverberated through your body, each beat syncing with the rising tension inside, a strange mix of hurt, anger, and alcohol pushing you to the edge. By the time they finished their set, the adrenaline was pumping so hard it was like a shot of fire to your system.

Without thinking, you somehow climbed up on the stage. The crowd’s roar faded into the background as you grabbed the microphone, your voice raw with emotion as you shouted, “FUCK YOU NATHAN!”

The audience gasped, some laughing, some unsure what was happening, but you didn’t care. Your mind raced as you continued, “GO FUCK YOURSELF NATHAN! YOU DON’T DESERVE SHIT IN YOUR LIFE”

The two guys from the band rushed over, trying to calm you down, but most importantly trying to yank the mic out of your hands. One of them put a hand on your shoulder, but you jerked your arm away and continued, “YOU HEAR ME, NATHAN? YOU MANWHORE”

Someone grabbed your arm, pulling you slightly back as a voice whispered, "C’mon, miss, don’t embarrass yourself. Get down from the—"

But you cut them off, shouting, “DON’T TOUCH ME! I HAVE THE RIGHT TO SPEAK!” Your voice rang out, fierce and defiant. Then, you turned and realized it wasn’t a stranger—it was Choso. His intense, steady gaze met yours, silently pleading for you to calm down. For a moment, everything else faded, and it was just the two of you, his eyes trying to pull you back from the edge.

The noise and chaos seemed to fade into the background. Staring into his captivating eyes, you thought, It’s now or never. Your gaze flicked from his eyes to his plump lips, and without hesitation, you acted.

You dragged him down toward you, while rising up onto your tiptoes, and then you kissed him fervently, all the pent-up emotion pouring into that moment.

His pink-haired friend cackled into the mic, “You hear that, Nathan? You fucked up! Your girl’s gone now!”

“yeah you son a bitch! look at me eating up this guy’s mouth!” you thought, deepening the kiss.

You would be a total liar if you said that making out with Choso was just any other chore to get back at your ex.

No, no, no, no… that man was a beast. The second your lips touched his, he yanked your body against his, your breasts colliding with his large, hard chest.

Every inch of him was solid, muscle-packed beneath his shirt like he was carved from stone. His body radiated heat, and the faint sheen of sweat from his earlier performance mixed with the scent of his cologne—a powerful, intoxicating blend that made you want him even more. The mix was engulfing, dizzying, wrapping around you like a drug, making it impossible to pull away.

What started as a kiss turned into something deeper, more intense. His mouth was commanding, his lips moving over yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. His tongue was battling against yours, and all you could do was respond.

He was devouring the fuck out of you.

His hands slid down to your waist, his grip tightening as if he couldn’t bear to let you go. The feel of his body against yours – strong, immovable – made you crave more. Your fingers roamed up his shoulders, desperate to feel more of him, to get closer.

This wasn’t just some kiss to get back at Nathan. Choso’s kiss was raw, overwhelming, and consuming – everything you didn’t know you needed.

“Ok ok lovebirds! time’s up! you both can finish this later” suggested his sexy black-haired friend.

The crowd's reaction to your passionate kiss was a mix of emotions. Some voices rose in anger, hurling insults, while others cheered loudly, celebrating your bold move. The air buzzed with a clash of discontent and admiration. Some of them even started chanting “fuck you Nathan” in chorus.

But eventually, all good things must come to an end … and you had to shed yourself from Choso’s addictive body. You were both panting and staring at each other’s soul trying to figure out what just happened and what was going to happen afterwards.

“So ... do you make a habit of kissing random guys on stage?” he asked with a smirk, his eyes lingering on your face, taking in every detail.

“I … I have to go …” you stuttered, pushing him slowly away.

“Oh nah you can’t go now. There is no way I’ll let you leave after what you just did to me” he said, pulling you closer.

“I acted impulsively … I’m sorry … I need to go” you said, still trying to get out of his grip.

“Oh, so you’re just going to run back to Nathan?” he spat bitterly, holding you even harder.

You immediately frowned upon hearing his name again.

“Fuck you” you gritted, putting all your almighty force to push yourself away from him.

“That’s perfect, I have a 20-minute break anyway” he said, grinning. Before you could respond, his strong arms encircled your waist. In one swift, fluid motion, you were lifted off the ground. Panic surged as you were hoisted over his shoulder. It wasn’t a gentle lift; it was firm and unyielding.

“Guys, if you don’t mind, I have something to take care of” he informed his friends.

“Man, do whatch’ya gotta do, we lost you the minute she got on stage” said the black-haired guy.

You kicked and hit desperately, your fists pounding against his back. “Put me down!” you screamed, struggling against the grip holding you. “Let me go!”

“I don’t know about you, but I like to kiss a little before fucking. That being said, if you like it rough I can do that for you baby” he said, spanking you.

“The fuck??? did you just spank me?? how dare you??” you screamed at him, outraged.

“oh so we were literally dry-humping each other on stage 5 minutes ago but I can’t spank you now? That’s bullshit! You’re mine now!” he said, pushing an exit door.

When he finally set you down, the cold night air jolted you back to reality.

“Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t think this through, ok? I just saw my boyfriend kissing a chick and I saw you as an opportunity to get revenge … I’m sorry please, just let me go” you pleaded.

He leaned in, slammed both of his hands on the wall, caging you with his body “So you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy our kissing session?” he asked faking a pout, but clearly amused.

“I didn’t say that” you shyly admitted, looking away.

“Then why are you running away?” he whispered in your ear, his lips now dangerously close to your neck.

“Please understand my situation here, I still have to deal with my feelings” you said, trying to get your neurons to work.

“I know for sure I can get him out of your head and give you new feelings to think about” he whispered against your neck.

“Look, I’m not trying to fuck … I told you I acted impulsively, I’m sorry” you asserted. Your mouth said no but your body craved this man with every alive and dead cell.

“Hey, as much as I love sex, I’m not going to fuck with you if you’re not willing. What I’d really like to do, though, is to get to know you better. So, what’s your name” he asked, his tilted curious face looking at you.

“I … uh … Y/n” you sighed. You knew there was no point in faking a name. You would have forgotten about it anyway.

“Y/n ... I can see myself moaning your name”

“Shut up. Choso.” you said, trying to hide your fluster.

“I definitely can see you moaning my name” he added, with a smirk.

You could see yourself doing that too. Just thinking about it, sent tingling signals to your pussy.

“Can I get another kiss before going back to stage?” he asked with a demanding look on his face. He looked so adorable, with his pleading eyes and his slightly parted lips. He held your chin up with his hand, forcing you to look up to him.

That bastard … He wasn’t playing fairly …

“if you keep looking at me like that I might have to bring you home, and keep you all for myself” he whispered again in your neck.

You couldn’t speak. You were unable to focus on not acting impulsively again and trying to formulate long sentences. Your brain was in a total meltdown.

“Just so you know, I still plan to get my revenge and kiss you first, and when I do, you’re not getting out alive” he added, gently kissing your neck.

Silence.

“Please ... say something, you’re driving me crazy” he whispered, desperation lingering on his voice.

His hands slid on your back, pulling you closer to him.

“Fuck … baby … please … don’t give me the silence treatment …” he whined, holding you harder.

“Ok …just one peck” you sighed, finally making a decision. You had surrendered to this man’s desires.  

You got on your tippy toes and gave him a 4-second peck on his soft lips. But no light brush of lips or polite peck was enough for Choso. As soon as your lips touched again, he kissed you back with everything he had, hungry for so much more.

“Hey! C’mon man, we need you back on stage. Sex time’s over” interrupted pink-haired guy busting the exit door open.

“Fuck off man” Choso growled between kisses, as you both slowly came to a stop.

“I want to see you again baby. Gimme somethin’ more than your name” he asked, visibly frustrated.

“How about you look for me here next Saturday at your concert?” you suggested, smirking unknowingly, your hands roaming on his broad chest.

“And when I catch you,” he said with a grin, “you'll see the things I’m going to do to you.” he finished, with a hard squeeze of your ass.

i hope you liked this story ❤️ don't hesitate to comment and reblog !

[magicalbats]

Kinktober 2024 Day 3: Al-Haitham x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 6757

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, power dynamics, petplay, collaring, predicament bondage, spanking, vaginal fingering, tail butt plug, object insertion

A/N: A few people asked for a follow up to Al-Haitham's piece from last years Kinktober and I'm personally always glad for any excuse to write about more petplay scenarios, so here we are! I hope everyone enjoys! 🫣

⭐

“So,” He intones, casually slouched to one side so he can brace his shoulder against the door jamb. With his arms crossed over his chest he looked the picture-perfect image of idle, confident arrogance standing there before you in the faint glow of a nearby street lamp. It was enough to almost make you sick. “You really decided to muster up the courage and come here after all. Consider me impressed.” 

Hands balled into tight, sweaty fists in the front of your breezy skirt, you pointedly keep your eyes downcast so you won’t have to look him in the face. Damn Al-Haitham and damn you for being fool enough to go through with this stupid idea. Hadn’t he humiliated you more than enough the last time? 

“Is that alright? I could always come back some other day …” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re already here, why send you away?” Straightening up, Al-Haitham shifts to the side to unblock the entrance to his home and grant you entry despite looking anything but welcoming. “Come in. And try not to look so scared.” 

You can feel your cheeks quickly growing hot enough to fry an egg on but you stubbornly shove aside all the uncertainty and ill opinions you had of the scribe in favor of focusing only on your objective. Of course that was in many ways exactly what had gotten you into this mess in the first place, yet it seemed you still hadn’t quite learned your lesson. You wouldn’t have shown up at his doorstep like this otherwise. 

Steeling yourself, you stiffly move forward to shuffle past him to stand just inside his foyer while he closes the door behind you. His home isn’t particularly large but it's finely furnished and surprisingly quaint in its own way. You wonder at that as you take in the decor, noticing an odd disconnect between one piece of furniture or knickknack and the next. While some of it was quite stylish other bits and bobbles leaned more towards an eclectic taste that didn’t seem to match. 

And then your eyes land on the neatly lined up row of shoes just off the main entrance. 

Two different sizes. 

“Don’t worry. My roommate is out on business tonight.” He says, supplying an answer to the unasked question, and you bring your head up with a quick snap. 

“I didn’t know you had a roommate.” 

His hand is suddenly right in front of your face when you turn towards him, making you startle, but he merely slips those long fingers underneath your chin to further nudge your attention up at him. Verdant gaze studying you closely, Al-Haitham searches your expression for a drawn out beat — for what, you do not know — before deigning to speak again. “Well, I do. Have one I mean. He won’t be bothering us any time soon though, so tell me what it is you want.” 

Your natural disinclination for him quickly rears its ugly head, and you narrow your eyes up at him in annoyance. “How do you know I want something?” 

“Please. You wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t. Now spill it.” 

Clicking your tongue, you irritably pull away from him and take a step back to put some distance between you two. Hopefully that would be enough to give you a chance to think straight, even though it was clear you hadn’t been doing much of that at all recently. “Look. I know you and I don’t exactly get along even under the best of circumstances but … do you recall what you said to me back in the Grand Sage’s office?” 

“My office, at least for the moment, and yes. I said a great many things to you that day. Which are you referring to specifically?” 

“Gods, you’re such an ass.” You murmur, wondering why you’d even come here when you knew good and well how he was. It’s much too late to start giving this second thoughts though, so you lift your chin in defiance of his surly attitude. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Acting Grand Sage, but I believe you told me I could come to you if I ever wanted a refresher course on our last — lesson. Does that offer still stand?” 

“Oh?” Looking really quite smug now, Al-Haitham allows his roguish mouth to curl into a brief smirk. “Is this supposed to be your way of asking nicely for something? Gotta’ say, your methods could still use some work but I can see we’re making progress. It’s better than the last time, at least.” 

“Are you going to answer the question or not?” You demand, feeling your jittery nerves start to get the better of you. 

If you’d had any other option here you would have gladly taken it before ever subjecting yourself to this particular man’s presence ever again but you just couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the time you’d spent with him in his office. By the end of it you’d been all but preening at his soft spoken praise only to then be cast back out into the real world where people in polite society didn’t talk to each other like that. It was maddening in the worst possible way. 

Worst of all, he still hadn’t signed off on that damn expense sheet even after saying he’d give it another look and yet that seemed to be the farthest thing from your mind anymore. The only thing you really wanted at this point was to experience the same warm buzz of satisfaction you’d felt when he spoke to you in that uncharacteristically soft, doting manner as before. Was that seriously too much to ask for? 

“Just relax. We really need to work on that impatient streak of yours.” He says, evidently recognizing the frazzled look on your face for what it is. “And don’t worry, my offer still stands. I’ll play with you again. Good timing, actually. I recently bought a few things at the bazaar that I think you might like.” 

“Huh?” You blurt, turning to follow him with your eyes when he brushes past you into the rest of the house. “Don't tell me you actually knew I’d come here like this?” 

“That’s a bit of a stretch. All I did was calculate the odds that you would eventually decide to seek me out again, so the expense was justifiable despite being preemptive. Get undressed while I grab everything and wait for me until I get back.” 

And just like that he’s gone, disappeared down the hallway into a room on the far end of the house by the sound of it. 

For a long moment you just stand there, too stunned at Al-Haitham’s gall to take action. You weren’t sure who he thought he was but as usual it was already giving you a headache. Nothing ever went as you hoped it would whenever he was involved. 

Rousing yourself though, you quickly get to work. Far be it that you were any more comfortable with the thought of being naked in front of him than you were the first time, but you’d known what you were signing up for when you chose to come to him like this. And you’re glad to find it’s a little easier without him standing there, looming over you like some scrutinizing gargoyle while more and more of your body is slowly revealed to him, so there was that perk. If anything you were just glad he hadn’t sent you away. 

But once you find yourself standing nude in his living room some of the uncertainty starts to come back. Just what the hell were you doing here? And how were you supposed to position yourself, should you sit or stand? Did he expect you to seamlessly fall into the role of obedient dog again even if he wasn’t there to guide you through the process like before? 

There was no clear cut solution to any of these problems you now faced, and you at last decide to err on the side of caution. You would prostrate yourself for him, since he seemed to get so much satisfaction out of that, but you’d wait for further instruction before doing anything else. It was undeniably silly, but you didn’t want to seem too eager. 

Thus when Al-Haitham returns after another moment or two, he finds you kneeling on the ornate rug laid out across the floor with your legs neatly folded underneath you. He noises a soft sound of acknowledgement as he strides across the room and you attentively zero in on the wooden box he’s got in his hands. 

“What’s that?” You chance to ask, earning a quick, vaguely amused look from him. 

“I wasn’t aware dogs knew how to speak to ask such questions of their masters.” 

Flushing all over again, you breathe out a soft huff through your nose but remain otherwise silent. You’re much more interested in observing him anyway, particularly when he sinks down to sit on the nearby sofa before placing that mysterious box next to him on the cushions. 

Then the full brunt of his attention is back on you. “Come here.” He commands, indicating the spot next to his feet. 

You catch yourself starting to prickle, your pride almost getting the better of you once again, but you quietly remind yourself that this was what you’d wanted. After being hounded by indecent thoughts for weeks now, all of them revolving around the scribe, there was no point making any qualms about it or pretending otherwise. 

So you somewhat grudgingly shift forward to brace on your hands and knees before crawling over to him. You’re acutely aware of the sway of your breasts while you do so, particularly when he was watching you do it and no doubt seeing every little detail of your body in this humiliating position, both the good and the bad. The crippling note of self consciousness that shudders through you is not nearly enough to douse your anticipatory excitement though, and you hesitantly tip your face towards him as you shuffle up to the sofa, earning a nod of approval. 

“Sit.” 

Obediently plopping your ass down on the carpet, you make a point of straightening your back for him to push your bare tits up and out. You felt incredibly foolish for being so concerned about his opinion of your body but that lingering sense of stubborn combativeness quickly fades when he reaches out to pet over your head with an indulgent gesture. 

“Good girl. I have something for you.” 

Feeling fuzzy and warm, you blink up at Al-Haitham through the growing fog as he reaches for the box. That he makes a point of opening the lid towards you so that you can’t see what’s hidden inside almost manages to annoy you but you quickly stamp it down in favor of simply watching him. With a faint rustle, he lifts what you immediately recognize to be a collar from inside and silently presents it to you, just observing your reaction. 

The flustered look on your face must be an interesting one though, because he chuckles a brief laugh only a moment later. “Do you know what this is?” 

Reluctantly nodding, you shoot him a wary look. 

“Excellent. Then I shouldn’t have to waste any time on explaining it.” 

His large, dexterous hands get to work on unfastening the little eyelet so he can pull it open while you frantically try to rationalize this in your mind. Unaware of how hard your heart is pounding in your chest, he leans down to wrap the surprisingly thick band of leather around your throat so he can secure it into place at the back and you just sit there as if in a numb stupor while he does it. 

You couldn’t believe this was really happening … 

“As long as you’re wearing this,” He drawls, still fiddling with the catch to ensure it was sufficiently snug on your neck. “You’ll be my pet and I expect you to act accordingly. I won’t hesitate to punish you if you misbehave but … I also won’t hesitate to reward you either. We can play this game as long as you’d like, and when I take this off we’ll go back to our usual roles. No questions asked. Does that sound fair to you?” 

You slowly nod your agreement, suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to even think a coherent thought. As if being collared by him had effectively pulled a hazy, disarming shroud over your head, you were struggling to formulate anything at all in your mind when the only thing you could seem to focus on was the brush of his hands against your skin, the smell of him. The domineering way he’s leaned over you from his elevated position and the close proximity that came with it. You’d understood on some innate, instinctive level that you wanted him to subjugate you to his will again but you hadn’t expected it to have such an all encompassing effect on you. It was as if your higher functioning ego was slowly slipping away, like sand through your fingertips. 

And when he at last deems the collar to be adequately secured, leaning back to look at you with an unreadable expression, you positively quake under the spotlight of his attention. Al-Haitham may have been able to irritate you far beyond what any other person had ever accomplished, but when he looked at you like that … Archon’s, you would have done anything he asked of you if it only meant he’d praise you for it. 

“You’re certainly being good this evening. Guess you must have really needed this.” His eyelashes drooping to attractive half mast to mirror a very small fraction of the anticipation you were currently feeling, he reaches out to casually flick at the metal ringlet attached to the front of your new collar. “It’s just as I thought. Pink really does suit you. That being said, you have no idea how long it actually took me to find one of these in this color. You should probably thank me for it.” 

You shoot a quick, hungry look at his lap, the muscles in your legs already bracing to lean forward and put your mouth on him, but he stops you in your tracks with another quiet chuckle. 

“Not like that, though I do appreciate your enthusiasm. As long as you continue to be good for me I think we’ll be just fine.” Straightening up from his comfortable slouch, Al-Haitham then reaches back into the box to dig for something else. The sound of metal clinking together makes your heart skip a beat and you anxiously fidget there on the floor while he pulls out a long, complicated string of chains that all seem to connect in the same spot. 

Having no idea what to make of it, you blithely glance up at him in question. 

“This is to help you stay in position. Think of it like a training aide.” 

Evidently that’s all the explanation you’re going to get and you swallow hard, nearly choking on your nerves, when he leans down again. With a simple gesture of his hand, Al-Haitham secures the topmost latch to the front of your collar. The links are slight enough that it doesn’t add much additional weight to your neck, which you’re rather grateful for, but you can tell that they’re still sturdy enough not to break easily.

You start to understand what’s happening in a far off, dreamy sort of way when he reaches for one of your hands next. Directing it up to about chest level, he makes quick work of securing the thin cuff on one of the other trailing chains around your wrist to keep it elevated, lest you pull unnecessarily on the collar should you try to bring it back down again. He repeats the process on the other side to leave you in an approximation of the same begging position he’d made you assume last time, and you just let him do it because … you have no idea why. 

By all accounts this should have been setting off every single alarm bell in your head but it just doesn’t. If anything, your fast thrumming excitement only ratchets up another notch to leave you all but vibrating there at his feet. 

And when he finally settles back to take up the last chain, this one longer than all the rest, you immediately recognize what it is. A leash. One that he wraps the excess length around his knuckles before slowly tugging on it to pull you up to your knees. A shuddering moan slips out as you rock forward under the steady guidance of his gentle yet insistent pulling with your hands uselessly restrained in front of your chest. This was so incredibly dehumanizing … 

“Good girl. You look lovely like this.” His mouth faintly curling again, Al-Haitham reaches out his opposite hand to casually flick his finger back and forth over one of your tightly coiled nipples. “Feeling comfortable?” 

Helplessly mewling, you force your sluggish head to bob in agreement. This was too much and yet somehow not nearly enough at the same time. You felt like you were going mad. 

“On the floor then. All the way.” 

Tense and shirking, you slowly ease back to sit on your haunches before carefully leaning forward to brace your arms on the rug. You have to go slow or risk yanking on your collar, and the insidious nature of this set up quickly makes itself known. Not only were you effectively restrained and at his mercy like this, but the short length of the chains forces you down close to the ground to leave your backside pointed up in the air. Completely defenseless and vulnerable. He could have done anything at all to you in this position. 

The thought alone is enough to make you tremble uncontrollably, and you suck in a deeply frazzled breath when you feel him lean over you again. His hand finds your ass to smooth over it before giving you an encouraging pat that only seems to rush straight to your slicking cunt, making you whine low in your throat. What was he going to do to you when the possibilities seemed limitless and each one made you feel that much more desperate than the last? 

You soon get your answer when he silently withdraws his palm only to bring it back down on the meat of your backside in a stinging, hard handed swat. The suddenness of the slap shocks you more than the actual sharp burst of pain does, and you rock forward with a startled squeak. But he’s quick to do it again, targeting the other cheek this time, to make you mewl and fitfully squirm on the floor. 

“Don’t move.” He warns, giving the now aching skin a mean squeeze. “I’m just going to get you warmed up first before the main event, but if you decide not to be good for me I’ll have to really punish you. Surely you don’t want that, do you?” 

Half delirious, you slowly shake your head and the resulting clink of the chains rattling with the motion further highlights your position here. Even if you’d wanted to fight it there was nothing you could do with your hands secured as they were, nowhere for you to run when you were stark naked and effectively trapped in his home. All you can do is kneel there and take it, feeling your ass jolt in the air when he brings his hand down again to spank across your sit spots in rapid succession before focusing back in on the fattest part of your behind. 

What was initially a briefly sharp starburst of pain quickly morphs into a constant, throbbing sting that seems to spread across your whole backside while he peppers back and forth between your cheeks over the next some odd minutes. It seems to stretch on for an eternity but, logically, you knew it must have only lasted for a short while. Just enough to warm up the skin and leave it tender in the wake of his hand. That’s what he’d said, anyway. 

And you’re so far gone in the hazy stupor you’d slipped into that you couldn’t even fully grasp just how humiliating this really was. Being forced into such a position with your ass shamelessly presented for him to do whatever he liked and yet he chose to spank you. You’d probably be furious with him later on, and rightfully so, but in this particular moment the only thing you can bring yourself to care about is how turned on it was making you. 

The single other instance you could recall where you’d been quite this worked up was the last time you and him had played this game, sequestered away in the relative privacy of the Grand Sage’s office. Never before and never since. 

Here you had real privacy though and a much smaller chance of discovery, particularly if what he’d said about his mysterious roommate being out for the night was true. And it’s clear Al-Haitham plans to take full advantage of the freedom allotted to him by doing this in his own home, because no sooner does he finally pull his hand from your throbbing ass do you feel his fingers descend upon your cunt. 

Yelping a mindless sound of startled delight, you eagerly arch your spine and rear back on his hand in humble supplication for more. He laughs a low, rumbling sound at the display even as the rough pads of his fingertips skirt down the seam of your labia to rub sedate circles over your clit. The gesture quickly makes you realize exactly how soaked you are with copious arousal when he smears it across your pussy lips in the process, making an even bigger mess of you. 

Bless the gods, but you were going to cum in record time. 

“I wish you could see yourself right now, trembling like that with my handprints all over your ass. If it weren’t for your usual attitude I’d even say you look like you were made for this. Do you enjoy it when I touch you here?” 

You let out a needy, faltering groan and jerk your head in a quick nod, making the chains jostle again. 

“Then let me hear you, darling girl. Speak.” 

It’s a real struggle to think clearly when he was still intently drawing his fingers over that sensitive pleasure button but your cotton stuffed head somehow manages to parse what he was asking of you. It was the same as last time. The same ‘trick’ he’d taught you in his office. The memory of idiotically barking like a dog had kept you awake many a night since, and not for the reasons you would have liked … 

You absolutely hate how much it excites you, your cheeks flushing incomprehensibly hotter even as you hang your head low and force out a weak, “Wh - woof!” 

“Oh? Is this not to your liking? My apologies then. Perhaps you want it here instead?” Abandoning your clit, Al-Haitham trails his fingers further up to your entrance where he quickly sinks one of those sinuously long digits into your cunt, forcing the inner sleeve of your body to stretch open around him. 

Stiffly lurching at the unexpected penetration and the jolt of friction that comes with it, you desperately ball your hands into tight fists against the rug in an attempt to ground yourself. “Woof! Woof wh - oof! Ahhn!” 

“Mmm, pretty sounds for a pretty girl. And so tight too. Don’t tell me you haven’t been playing with yourself at all since our last session? Too embarrassed or … were you just waiting for me to be the one to play with this needy little pussy for you?” 

You try to bark again, knowing he was likely to stop if you didn’t, but you can’t quite seem to find enough oxygen to do so. Your lungs were constricting much too tight with the short, labored gasps you rapidly suck in as the tension inside your cunt dizzyingly swells to near discomfort. You were beyond soaked, and the sticky wet clicks he pulls from your shuddering body when he adds a second finger only attests to that. The obscene schlucking sound that starts up when he begins to fuck you with them seems to echo in the space between your ears, adding to the total onslaught to your senses. All you could do was squeal helpless, dire tinged animal noises into the static charged room while he mercilessly pounds into you from behind. 

“Are you going to cum for me already, sweetheart? Gonna’ squirt all over this carpet just like you did on the one in my office? Huh?” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, neither slowing down nor ceasing his ministrations for even a moment, and your eyes soon begin to roll back when your impending orgasm suffocatingly bears down on you. The building pressure was too much, the deliberate jabs of his fingers far too concentrated on that receptive bundle of nerves within you. Your body simply couldn’t take it even as you continue to gush excessively around the intrusion, and then all at once the scales seem to tip. 

You cum with a shuddering jerk, frantically wailing in pleasure when you feel your pussy give out to release a fresh deluge of slick. Screwing your eyes shut, you deliriously ride out the juddering waves of pleasure that sweep over you in a torrent as your squeezing cunt uncontrollably erupts around Al-Haitham’s fingers, having once again expertly coaxed you to this unseemly state. It was like being stretched too thin on such a bone deep level that by the time you finally start to come down from the reeling high another moment later you barely even know who you are anymore. 

All that seems to register in your punchdrunk mind is his unmistakably masculine presence hovering over you, his hand slowly withdrawing from your cunt with a messy wet slurp that makes you sensitively twitch. The smell of him, his taste on the back of your tongue. In retrospect it was no wonder just that one fateful encounter with him had ruined you so irreparably. 

How in the world had you not seen it sooner? He was the singularly most infuriating man you’d ever met, yes, but he was also the only person you’d ever known who seemed to understand you better than you understood yourself. You hadn’t even thought you were capable of squirting before this. Damn him. 

Issuing a groggy groan into the rug, you slowly begin to stir from your semi comatose state. You weren’t sure when exactly you’d pressed your cheek into the floor but you force your head up as primly as you can manage given the circumstances. And still trembling with the lingering remnants of your release, you shoot a cautious look underneath you only to grimace when you spot the telltale wet stains bleeding into the carpet. Unfortunately you’re not allowed much of a chance to recover or find your bearings though, and you give a faint hiss when Al-Haitham nudges your attention up at him with a firm tug to the leash. 

That he still looks frustratingly cool and collected despite everything that had just transpired bothers you a great deal but you stubbornly keep those thoughts to yourself. He was going to get an ear full from you later. The least he could have done was put a towel down instead of purposely embarrassing you like this again! 

“Doing good so far?” Luckily he seems to take your nod at face value, and he reaches out to brush a bit of hair away from your face with an unexpectedly tender stroke of his hand. “Good. I’ve got something else for you, if you feel up to it.” 

Rousing from your hazy delirium a bit more, you somewhat roughly clear your throat after not using your voice for so long before venturing to speak. “I know I’m supposed to be playing a role here but I have to ask. When exactly did you find the time to plan all of this? You seem suspiciously well prepared.” 

“It’s not so much that I planned it, but rather I simply followed through on an idea that already existed.” He says, earning a skeptical lift of your brow, and he quietly clicks his tongue when he realizes he’s going to have to offer up a better explanation than that. “You seem to remember everything else I said the last time so I’m surprised you don’t recall this. I told you if I’d had some warning beforehand I would have purchased a few things in advance. Well, I decided that I wouldn’t be caught unawares again. If you came to me I  wanted to be ready.”

“The collar.” You murmur, idly reaching up to touch it with a brief rattle of the connecting chain. “You did say that, didn’t you? What else do you have in there?” 

“Want to find out?” 

Shooting him a wary glance, you consider your options here. It sounded like he’d let you go if that was what you wanted after already having gotten off once, which was unexpectedly conscientious of him, but … were you really satisfied with just that? You’d thought about this almost nonstop for weeks and now that you were in front of him, collared and kneeling at his feet, you weren’t so sure you were ready to call it a night just yet. 

Besides, he still hadn’t made any attempt to see to his own needs and the low simmering pulse in your cunt hadn’t been fully satiated. Perhaps if you played along a little longer he’d stretch you out and stuff you full with something hopefully a bit more substantial than his fingers. A girl could certainly hope, at least. 

“Alright. I’m listening.”

“That's a good pet.” He murmurs, sticking his hand out to lightly palm over your head and you don’t stop long enough to reconsider it before nuzzling into the gesture with a soft purr. It seemed your earlier impression was correct. As long as he kept praising you, you’d do anything he wanted. 

Pulling back, Al-Haitham directs his attention back around to the contents of the box again. You listen to him dig for something, wondering how many items he’d actually purchased for the sake of being prepared, but you can’t quite see what he finally pulls out from your position on the floor. Even when you try to crane your neck up for a quick look the only thing you can make out is him fiddling with something. 

“This might be a bit cold at first.” He warns. 

That’s all the notice you get before he leans over you, hand stretching out on a sure and steady trajectory towards your backside, and you outright squawk when you feel him smear something sticky over your asshole. He does it so casually, such idle surety in the motion, that it sends your heart shooting up into your throat. 

Mewling a soft sound of confusion, you shudderingly try to twist around on the floor to see what he’s doing but he just follows you when you angle away. His ministrations don’t even falter while he continues to smear that mysterious wet goop over your puckered hole to thoroughly coat you in it, your uncertainty growing by the second when understanding starts to dawn. 

Surely he wasn’t — 

“Don’t tense up. You need to relax.” He murmurs, slowly rubbing over your ass with concentrated strokes now to encourage the muscle to loosen. 

Oh, he most certainly was. 

“W - w - wha - -“ 

“No words now, pretty girl. Unless it’s to tell me to stop and that you don’t want to do this anymore, I’m not interested in hearing it. You’re going to be a good pet for me, aren’t you?” 

Whimpering, you screw your eyes shut and try to focus on your breathing. That was easier said than done though, of course. You weren’t used to being touched like this and the prospect of having something inserted up your ass makes you far more nervous than anything else he’s done to you this evening. But it’s clear that was what he’s working his way up to, especially when he starts to carefully prod at the center wrinkle where the tight muscle begins to slacken and give way. He only taunts you with it though, never quite fully slipping his finger inside to penetrate you, and instead he focuses on merely teasing around the interior rim. 

You quickly realize he’s making sure you’re as well coated with that slippery lubricant on the inside as you are on the outside, and it becomes that much harder to keep your head on straight. 

Positively squirming when he at last pulls away some time later to leave your asshole sticky and loosened, you seethe into the rug while you listen to him dig something else out of the box. You have a few guesses in mind, naturally, but nothing quite prepares you for when you crack your eyes open at his behest only to find him dangling a long, fluffy tail in front of your face. 

Attached to the other end is what you can safely assume to be a plug based off the smooth, rounded tip that widens out into a bulbous base before then narrowing down to a thinner stem. The faux fur appendage dangles tauntingly from the bottom of it, and you softly groan at the full bodied shudder that tears through you. He really was going to put that thing inside your body. 

“Take a deep breath for me and let it out slowly. That’s it. Again. Such a good girl you’re being. I want you to focus on relaxing into it and bear down when I tell you to, alright?” 

At your faltering nod of understanding, in far too deep to back out now, Al-Haitham scoots to the very edge of the sofa and leans over you again. Using one hand to spread your sore cheeks open, he brings the plug close with the opposite to gently touch you with it. You jolt at the contact like he’d electrocuted you but quickly still again with an anxious little sob. Helpless to do anything else, you just kneel there at his feet and accept what’s happening while he lazily draws the toy through the excess lubricant he’d smeared all over you. 

When he finally starts to push in on the slackened pucker after another drawn out moment you go stockstill at the unfamiliar pressure, gasping roughly into the carpet. He softly tuts at you, encouraging you to calm down with soft words of praise, but it’s hard. Almost impossible when this was completely foreign to you and the slow stretch of yet untested muscle seems so debilitatingly sharp even in your punchdrunk state that you don’t know what to make of it. 

It doesn’t hurt though, you’re quite relieved to find. Just uncomfortable and more than a little strange, particularly when you could feel your asshole slowly losing the fight. There was too much lube for you to reject it and keep him out, the plug sufficiently smooth to make the penetration more of an easy glide than you’d expected it to be. In tortuous slow motion, he makes you take one millimeter at a time until your hole is stretched wide around the thickest part before gradually pulling back to repeat the process. 

Again and again, he makes your body open up to him before at last issuing the command for you to push. You almost don’t do it, unsure if you even could when the once tight ring of muscle felt so horribly strained, but with a low groan you comply. At the same time you bear down on the intrusion he gives it a quick push, and all at once the whole thing slips inside you straight down to the base. You rock forward with a haggard gasp, mindlessly jutting your ass up in the air as you weakly squeeze around the narrow stem only to realize that it was already too late. 

The toy was firmly wedged inside you now and taking up space that only seems to highlight how very empty your pussy is. He pulls back to admire his handiwork, letting the long tail settle against your soaked cunt with a faint brush of the fur. Trembling almost violently, you dig your toes into the rug and nudge your pelvis up as if you were little more than a bitch begging to be mounted. 

You really didn’t want to think about how apt that comparison actually was right now. 

“Just look at you, darling girl. I can tell how much you’re enjoying this from here,” He says, breaking through the delirium just enough for you to pick up on the vague note of satisfied awe creeping into his voice. Like he couldn’t believe you’d really allowed this to go so far, or maybe he was just finally starting to notice the effect this was having on his own body. It was hard to say with him. 

Groaning fitfully, you press your hot face into the ornate rug and give your ass a brief, supplicating shake. The tail shifts with the motion where it dangles down between your legs, brushing your pussy just so, but it’s not nearly enough to feel good. If anything it just makes you more desperate for his attention, his hand, his cock. Whatever he wanted to give you would have sufficed.

But of course Al-Haitham doesn’t relent and give you what you want. He never does, not directly anyway, and you seethe through your teeth when you feel him stand up from the sofa to loom over you. 

“Sit for me.” 

Blinking through the disorienting fog, you gingerly comply. Push up onto your forearms and get your knees adjusted under you before slowly sitting upright even when you dizzily sway with the motion. The change in position seems to make the plug feel even bigger where it’s keeping your ass stretched open around its width, and you faintly groan at the sensation. 

Al-Haitham is as unreasonable and demanding as ever though, and he barely allows you enough time to get situated in front of him before issuing his next command. “Good. Now beg.” 

The mere thought of assuming that position again makes you wince, your body already a mess of aches and pains, and throbbing arousal, but you comply with this too. It takes a bit of effort on your part to get your legs to cooperate but you eventually manage, somehow. 

And once you’re squatted before him, precariously balancing on your toes with your hands securely fastened up by your chest, you look to him for his next order. You no longer have any wherewithal left to feel at all embarrassed or ashamed of having your cunt on display like this, nor do you have it in you to second guess any of it. All you knew with certainty was that you were drowning in it, this hazy feeling of absolution that seemed to rend you to pieces and mend you back together again in the same breath. Perhaps it was a bit fatalistic, yes, but you’d never felt quite so sexually satisfied in all your life. 

Especially when he smiles, pinning you with one of those exceedingly rare, genuine little tugs of his mouth to indicate that he was pleased with you. It’s fleeting and short lived but you don’t miss it by a long shot as he proceeds to gently pull on your leash to make sure he’s got your attention.  

“Wag for me, pretty girl? Think you can do that?” 

You don’t stop to rethink this either. You just do it, struggling to shake your ass in this awkward balancing act to feel the tail swishing back and forth on the floor underneath you. It’s humiliating and dehumanizing in equal measure, but you would have gladly done that and so much more just to earn another doting pet of his hand, another soft word from his mouth. 

Al-Haitham had awakened something inside you that day in his office, and now you were his responsibility. For better or worse, he was your master and you his obedient, loyal pet.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[kingofbodyrolls]

Moonglade (m) | kth

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive.

→ Pairing: taehyung x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / angst / romance / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 15.3k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of an accident at sea (doesn’t happen to reader), technically Tae’s first time with a human, this is again somewhat of a crackfic. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (stay safe!), breast play, fingering, multiple orgasms (yes, it’s very very vanilla). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: this one takes place before Seokjin’s ‘When it Sinks In’. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel about this one… like I like it, but.. I’m so sorry that the smut turned rather short and ehh…Yeah, I don’t know. I might be too hard on myself. But here it is! And I hope you like it, please let me know 🪸

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

Taehyung adores his underwater world—his home, the ancient and wondrous city of Naraeum, nestled deep in the sea beneath the waves. Though Naraeum stretches vast and magnificent, with coral spires and shadowed grottos echoing songs of old, his heart has always been tugged by a strange longing for the world above, the realm of humans. For Taehyung is a curious soul, drawn to the mysterious trinkets cast into the sea from distant shores. He loves nothing more than to seek out these treasures, to hold them in his hands, to wonder at their history, and to dream of what stories they might hold.

Today, he’s joined by Namjoon, his friend and fellow collector, whose fascination lies not in human relics but in the jeweled stones and sea-polished crystals that glimmer beneath the sands. Together, they comb the seabed, weaving through a forest of swaying kelp, their laughter rising like bubbles through the emerald currents. The seafloor is dense and rich with secrets, the sands thick with memories of shipwrecks and forgotten eras.

Suddenly, Taehyung catches a glint—a flash of something golden hidden beneath the silt. With a quick flick of his shimmering tail, he dives down, his fingers sifting eagerly through the cool, coarse sand until they find purchase on the small object. It’s a locket, tarnished and weathered by time, yet beautiful, its surface etched with delicate engravings that seem to whisper stories only the waves remember.

“What did you find?” Namjoon’s voice is soft with wonder as he swims close, his own satchel bulging with crystals and fragments of shells.

“A locket,” Taehyung murmurs, gazing at the relic in awe. Reverently, he loops it around his neck, letting it rest against his chest like a secret that has finally found its keeper.

“Are you just going to wear it like it’s yours? You don’t even know who it belongs to. What if someone’s searching for it?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms, one brow lifted in mild reproach.

Taehyung huffs, clutching the locket as if it might vanish from his grasp. “I doubt any human misses it,” he mutters, voice carrying a soft defiance. “They’re the ones who cast it to the sea. Besides—finder’s keeper.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes but follows along, his own curiosity piqued, as they drift along the sandy seabed, sweeping their gaze over shells, stones, and hints of hidden treasure. Gradually, their winding path carries them back to the heart of Naraeum, their bustling city, where ancient, towering coral spires glow softly in the filtered light. They spot Seokjin waiting by the marketplace, chatting with a mermaid they don’t recognize.

“Hi, guys!” Seokjin waves as they approach, his face bright with a rare excitement.

Taehyung, always one for meeting new souls, looks curiously at the girl beside Seokjin, though he notices a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she clings to his friend as if his presence alone anchors her. “Who’s that?” he asks softly, nodding toward the mermaid, whose gaze flits away, half-hidden by a veil of long hair.

“This is Soo-ah,” Seokjin explains, voice gentle. “I found her wandering near the outer reefs. She seems to have lost her memory—she doesn’t know where she’s from or which Cove she belongs to. I thought it best to bring her here.”

Understanding fills Namjoon’s eyes, while Taehyung’s expression softens with sympathy. He stretches a hand toward her, a warm smile on his lips. “Welcome to Naraeum, Soo-ah. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”

Soo-ah returns his smile, faint but genuine, her fingers brushing his in a tentative greeting before Seokjin nudges her forward, eager to show her the city’s wonders. With a soft laugh, Taehyung watches them go, feeling a flicker of something unplaceable in his chest as they disappear into the crowd.

A few days pass, and Taehyung is thrilled to have roped his friend Jimin into joining him for another treasure hunt. They swim beyond the city’s edge, far into the open sea, until the distant shore is visible, a shadowed line against the water’s surface. Jimin grumbles, claiming they’ve been swimming forever, but Taehyung only grins, his heart thrumming with anticipation. In the depths, beneath the waves, he knows more secrets wait to be uncovered.

“Look! A tiny mirror!” Taehyung squeals with delight as he catches a glint of light reflecting from the seabed, his eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“Big deal. We have mirrors at home, you know,” Jimin replies with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. But he can’t hide his curiosity as he follows Taehyung deeper into the water, pulled along by his friend’s infectious enthusiasm.

They glide past a sunken shipwreck, its wooden bones stretching toward them like the fingers of an ancient ghost. Diving down, they slip through broken windows, marveling at the corroded cannons and the shadowed halls, their hands skimming over fragments of a life lost long ago. In one darkened cabin, Taehyung spots gleaming jewels and slips them into his bag with reverence, like they’re not just trinkets but pieces of a forgotten story. They pass skeletal remains, likely crew members left here by the merciless pull of the sea, and Taehyung feels a pang in his chest, a whisper of sorrow for those whose journey ended here, swallowed by the depths. But he presses on, the mystery pulling him further, and Jimin trails behind, loyal and watchful.

Eventually, with their search exhausted, they swim back out, drifting toward the distant shoreline, reluctant to head home just yet. The water grows darker, the sun having long ago slipped below the horizon, casting the world in an indigo glow. The stars above are a faint shimmer, barely visible through the shifting waves, and Taehyung knows that night has fully settled over the land.

“Shouldn’t we head back? Aren’t you tired yet?” Jimin mutters, his tone laced with fatigue, though his eyes still follow Taehyung’s every move.

Taehyung turns to him with a grin as wide and bright as a rising moon, his boxy smile full of boundless energy. “Tired? Never,” he laughs, his voice a spark in the endless sea, as he dives toward a narrow, shallow path, leading them further on into the night.

“I’ve never been here before…,” Taehyung whispers as he glides along the narrow, winding path and finally breaches the surface. He blinks, momentarily stunned, as he takes in the world above: towering trees cloaked in emerald leaves, their branches reaching toward the darkening sky. Fireflies drift like tiny stars, casting a gentle glow over the small forest lake, as if the night itself were holding its breath. Everything about this place feels enchanted, suspended between dreams and reality, and he stares in wonder, feeling the stillness settle into his bones. Even the air tastes different here, crisp and earthy, laced with secrets of the forest.

Jimin surfaces behind him, equally mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced by silent awe.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, to share his amazement, when a faint sound catches his attention—a low, quivering hum that drifts over the water like a ghostly echo. He tilts his head, straining to hear, and the sound grows clearer, shaping itself into soft, broken sniffling. Realization dawns, a pang of worry blooming in his chest. Someone is crying. The sadness in the sound pulls at him, mysterious and raw, urging him to go closer, to uncover the source of the sorrow.

But before he can move, Jimin’s hand clasps his shoulder firmly, a silent warning in his eyes. “It’s time to go back,” he says, his voice a low murmur that barely breaks the surface of the lake’s hushed silence.

“But… I think someone’s crying!” Taehyung protests, his voice urgent, almost pleading. A tug in his heart urges him forward; he’s certain it’s a human voice, fragile and alone in the shadows. What could a human be doing here, by a hidden lake in the depths of night?

Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens, pulling Taehyung back toward the water, his gaze steady, unyielding. Though Jimin is shorter and smaller, he’s surprisingly strong when he’s determined, and Taehyung, reluctantly, lets himself be led away. They dive beneath the lake’s surface once more, leaving behind the strange, moonlit forest and the sound of that lonely, haunting cry echoing in Taehyung’s mind all the way home. 

Even as the water wraps around him, soft and familiar, Taehyung can’t shake the image of that lake, of the fireflies and the trees like silent guardians. And most of all, he can’t shake the thought of the sad, unseen figure he left behind, and the mystery that still calls to him from above.

Resolute and drawn by a mystery he can’t shake, Taehyung returns to the hidden lake a few nights later, gliding through the darkened sea alone. The moon casts a silvery glow upon the water, guiding him back to the narrow path he discovered before, and he slips through the shadowy reeds, his curiosity mingling with an unspoken caution. 

He lifts his head just above the surface, the cool night air prickling his skin as the faint sound of quiet, broken sobs fills his ears. The sound is unmistakable, stirring something deep within him—a sadness so raw it seems to seep into the very air around him. He swims closer, yet stays hidden in the veil of darkness, and then, he sees you.

You sit hunched over on a small island of grass, surrounded by the lake’s gentle embrace. The weeping willows arch overhead, their slender branches draping the earth like curtains drawn to guard this secret moment. Moonlight filters through the leaves, casting delicate patterns across your trembling form. From his hidden vantage, he watches as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with each quiet sob. The ache in your cries is almost palpable, as if you are mourning something or someone lost to you, and Taehyung can feel the weight of your sorrow, heavy and consuming.

He longs to comfort you, to reach out and tell you you’re not alone beneath the stars. But he hesitates, recalling the whispered warnings of the elders: merfolk must never reveal themselves to humans. And yet, he can’t pull himself away; something in your sadness binds him here, helpless yet watchful. He stays, his heart aching with each tear that falls from your eyes, his gaze soft and steady as he remains a silent guardian under the moon’s gaze.

The hours pass in this suspended quiet, the lake holding its breath alongside him. He wonders if you might need help, if you’ll fall asleep there, alone and exposed beneath the vast, indifferent sky. It feels wrong, somehow, for you to be here in this vulnerable state, with no one but the stars to witness your sorrow.

Finally, you stir, lifting your sleeve to wipe away your tears, and he sees your face—tired, puffy-eyed, but beautiful in its fragility. With a sigh, you gather your bag and rise to your feet, sniffing softly, unaware of the silent figure who watches from the water. As you walk away, Taehyung sinks lower, letting only his eyes peek above the surface, mesmerized as you vanish into the night, your soft footsteps fading into the shadows.

Even after you’re gone, he lingers, the memory of your sorrow imprinted on his heart like a delicate bruise. He doesn’t yet understand why, but he knows he’ll be back—drawn to this secret, to this mysterious, solitary figure who has turned his world upside down with a single, silent night of tears.

The following night, as darkness settles over the world, Taehyung finds himself returning to the lake. It’s as if an invisible thread pulls him there, some magnetic force in the quiet forest that he can’t resist. He has to know if you’re alright, if you’ll be there again. And you are—still alone, still crying softly into the night, a solitary figure wrapped in sorrow.

He lingers, hidden within the water’s embrace, watching you through a screen of willow branches that sway like ghostly fingers. He wonders what sorrow could be so deep, so relentless, that it brings you back here each night, spilling your heart into the midnight air. Part of him aches, wishing he could understand, that he could share even a fragment of your pain to ease your burden. The night around you is hauntingly beautiful with fireflies drifting like fragments of stardust, casting soft glows, and delicate stars wink down through the sheltering branches. It’s a scene of quiet magic, but he can see that you are lost within yourself, too consumed by sadness to notice the wonder all around you. 

Each night he returns, telling himself it’s only to ensure your safety, to make sure you’re not alone in your sorrow. Even though he knows nothing of your life—your name, your story—he feels drawn to you with an intensity he can’t explain, as if he were meant to watch over you, to shield you from some unseen hurt. Though he doesn’t know what shadows he’s protecting you from, he knows he cannot leave you to face them alone.

Night after night, he watches, until he’s lost count of the hours spent in silent vigil. In the quiet depths, he waits and watches, close enough now to see the details of your face, the way the moonlight catches on the tear-streaks, casting an ethereal glow over your delicate features. Even as you cry, he marvels at the beauty within your pain, the vulnerability that makes you shine like a rare treasure hidden in the night.

But his heart grows heavier each time he sees you, crouched and clutching your hands, lost in what seems an endless grief. He can feel the depth of your pain, a sadness that’s woven itself into the fabric of your being, yet he doesn’t know how to help or why you keep coming back to this hidden, enchanted lake. 

Though he knows the risks of venturing so close, of revealing himself to a human, he can’t keep himself from returning. And as he watches you once more, he feels the quiet stirrings of a promise within him, a silent vow that he will stay, night after night, until he finds a way to bring you peace—or at least until he’s certain that you’re not alone beneath the stars.

You lift your gaze to the sky, eyes reflecting the silver glow of the moon and the scattered dust of stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, catching the light, and Taehyung aches to reach out, to brush it away with the soft edge of his finger, to bring you comfort, if only for a moment.

But before he can act on the impulse, he feels a stirring in the water beside him. Gently, he swishes his tail, trying to nudge the small creature away. The silence of the night is broken when, suddenly, a sharp nip jolts him from his reverie. He turns to find an irate crab, its claw clamped tightly onto his tail. Biting back a curse, he shakes the little creature free, muttering under his breath as he pulls it loose. But in his flurry of movement, he hears the soft murmur of silence fall over the lake.

The crying has stopped. 

All around him, an eerie quiet settles, heavy and expectant. 

And then, drifting on the night air, a soft whisper trembles through the silence. “Hello? Who’s there?” 

The sound of your voice—fragile, uncertain, sweet with a hint of fear—strikes him still. His heart beats a little faster, and he pauses, debating with himself, caught between a desire to reveal himself and a need to stay hidden. He can sense your apprehension, see the way your form tenses as you look around, seeking the source of the noise in the shadows.

Before he can stop himself, he finds he’s already swimming closer, his curiosity overcoming his caution. His face breaks through the surface right in front of you, moonlight gleaming on his skin and you wide, startled eyes locking with his. The world holds its breath for a beat, until you release a piercing scream that echoes through the forest.

He flinches, shocked, and a nervous laugh bubbles up despite himself. Not quite the reaction he’d hoped for—but at least you’re not crying anymore, right? In that moment, he’s unsure if he’s brought wonder or fear to you, but he knows one thing for certain: the boundary between your worlds has shattered, and there’s no going back.

A scream rips from your lungs, raw and sharp, your hand flying to your heart as if to keep it from leaping out of your chest. But the sound dies in your throat as your eyes lock onto his, wide and brimming with disbelief. He stands there before you, framed by the moonlight, arms raised in a gesture of surrender, his gaze steady and soft, hoping to convey a harmlessness that transcends words.

You squint, brows furrowing as if he’s a puzzle to be solved, a creature from dreams suddenly come to life. In a quiet, almost reverent whisper, you ask, “Are you…a mermaid?”

“A merman,” he corrects with a gentle quip and a smile that flickers like sunlight on water. He slowly lowers his arms as he sees you relax, a tentative curiosity overtaking your fear.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, though there’s still a trace of wariness in your stance. “You’re not here to…hypnotize me and drag me down to the bottom of the sea, are you?” you ask, arms crossing as you take a cautious step back.

He gasps, genuine alarm flashing across his face as he stumbles back a bit himself. “What? No!” he protests, voice pitching higher with surprise. “I’m a merman, not some Siren or Banshee!”

“What are you doing here, then?” you ask, voice edged with a fire he hadn’t expected, a fierceness that makes him certain you could hold your own if he meant any harm. But he doesn’t—and he aches to find the words that will ease the spark of worry in your eyes, to somehow convey that he’s here out of care, not threat.

“I…I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks,” he begins, his words spilling out in a rambling rush, like a river suddenly freed of its banks. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he adds, and too late, he realizes the impression his words might leave.

Your brow arches, your expression shifting to something between suspicion and shock. He feels his heart drop, an unwelcome warmth rising in his cheeks. “I—I mean, not watching you like that!” he stammers, lifting his hands in a flustered attempt to take back what he’s just said. “I just…saw you out here, and I was worried. You looked so…lost. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

A silence stretches between you, broken only by the soft rustle of willow branches and the distant call of a nightbird. He watches your chest rise and fall, sees the guardedness in your gaze slowly soften, the wary lines of your shoulders easing just a little, though you still hold yourself at the ready. 

“Alright…” you say slowly, still scrutinizing him with cautious eyes. “Let’s say I believe you. If you were so worried, why didn’t you ever try to…to comfort me?”

The question hangs between you, quiet and unexpected. He blinks, taken aback by the vulnerability in your words. When he speaks, his voice is softer, laced with the sincerity that has been tugging at him all this time. “I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admits, almost whispering. “I thought if I came too close…you’d be scared.”

For a moment, you both stand in that enchanted hush, the forest lake around you holding its breath. You see something in his face then—a tenderness, a yearning as deep as the water itself. And as you meet his gaze, a flicker of understanding passes between you, a fragile connection that neither of you can name, but both can feel.

“But you just did,” you say, the faintest chuckle slipping from your lips—not quite laughter, but something softer, tinged with a warmth he’d only dared to hope for. The sound pulls a smile from him, a quiet thrill sparking in his chest.

“True enough,” he murmurs with a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m…so sorry for any fear I caused.”

You take a deep, steadying breath, letting the tension slip away as you exhale. “It’s okay,” you reply, your voice gentle as a breeze over the water.

Slowly, you sink back onto the cool, dewy grass, crossing your legs and glancing up at him with wide, searching eyes. “So…merfolk really exist?” The words come out with a hint of disbelief, your gaze taking in his green, shimmering tail with a sense of wonder barely concealed.

“We do,” he replies simply, watching your eyes rove over him, lingering in equal parts curiosity and awe. But as your gaze lands on the glint of gold against his bare chest, your expression shifts—your eyes widening, bright and incredulous, until he nearly laughs at the sight.

“That’s mine!” you gasp, pointing at the golden locket resting between his pectorals, your voice ringing with surprise. His hand moves instinctively to the locket, his fingers brushing its cool, familiar surface as he looks back at you, eyes widening in realization.

“This locket?” he asks, almost reverently, his fingertips grazing the delicate chain as if it were fragile, precious. In that moment, something stirs in him—a connection, a story he doesn’t yet know, that seems to flicker to life between you both. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice softening, as if the very air around you has shifted into something gentler. The tension in your shoulders melts away, and a sense of ease settles over you like a warm embrace.

You rise slowly, your movements graceful as you step closer, and without thinking, you stretch your hand toward the locket. But instead of touching the cool metal, your fingers brush the warm skin of his chest, sending a shiver through both of you. The touch is gentle, fleeting, but it lingers in the space between you, a silent understanding passing in the moment. Your skin is warm, and the contact, soft as a whisper, sends a soft flutter in his chest.

“If you open the locket,” you say, your voice almost a hush, “it’s engraved with a poem. It reads: ‘I am the moon; Queen of Night, a riddle wrapped in borrowed light, a silver spool where dreams unwind, an ancient orb as old as time’.” You recite the words with a quiet reverence, and when you finally realize your hand still rests on his chest, you jerk it back as if burned by fire, your cheeks flushing with sudden heat. “Sorry,” you murmur, your voice faltering in the slightest, a quiet apology hanging in the air.

Taehyung, his curiosity piqued, slowly opens the locket, his fingers tracing the delicate engraving you’d shared with him. As he reads the poem aloud in his mind, something stirs deep within him, an unspoken connection to the words. He looks at you with awe, as if the very essence of the poem were now tangled with the mystery of who you are. “A human... actually lost this?” he murmurs, a spark of wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

“How did you lose it?” he asks, his voice gentle but filled with the kind of curiosity that can only come from a heart that’s already begun to care. He carefully slips the locket from his neck and extends it toward you, offering it back with an open hand.

The moment your fingers close around the locket, you freeze, and for a fleeting second, the sadness he’d seen in you before resurfaces, washing over your face like a shadow. It pulls at something in him—something tender, something raw. 

Your gaze drops to the grassy earth, and the air between you grows heavy with the silence of unanswered questions. You don’t speak, your lips pressed tight, but the weight of what’s left unsaid hangs in the air, thick and palpable. The sadness is back, clinging to you like a second skin, and Taehyung can’t help but wonder: what lies behind that silence? What is it that haunts you?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung says softly, his voice a quiet balm to the growing tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to soften the weight of the moment. “I found it underwater. I didn’t think anyone would miss it.”

You offer a smile, fragile as the morning mist, barely lifting the corners of your lips. “It was a gift... from my grandmother,” you murmur, your voice dipping with the weight of time and loss. “She passed away many years ago. Thank you... for finding it.”

His heart tightens as he feels the atmosphere shift, like a delicate thread about to snap. The air feels heavier now, laden with unspoken sorrow, and he can’t help but sense the deep ache in your words, in the quiet sorrow that clings to you.

You settle back down onto the damp earth, and Taehyung sinks deeper into the water, the cool embrace of it helping to mask the vulnerability in his heart. He keeps his tail hidden, letting the water lap gently around his arms, his hands resting just at the edge of the shore, fingers brushing the cool grass as if grounding himself to the moment.

Then, your voice breaks the silence, soft but aching. “I lost it at sea…” The words fall from your lips like a whispered confession, each syllable heavy with grief, as though the sea itself had taken not just the locket, but a part of your soul.

Taehyung doesn’t speak right away. He only watches you, his eyes holding you with the quiet understanding of someone who knows that sometimes, silence is the only answer. In that silence, he feels the weight of your loss as if it’s now his to carry too.

“I was out on a yacht with my friends... one of them fell over, and she... she died,” you whisper, the words trembling in the air, and your breath catches, thick with the weight of grief. A sob escapes you, raw and unguarded, as the sorrow that has festered for so long finally surges, breaking free like a tide that’s impossible to hold back.

Taehyung’s heart lurches, and he leans in, his voice a soft, steady echo in the heavy silence. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says, his words wrapped in the deep sorrow he now shares with you, as if your pain has wound itself into his very soul. “You never found her?”

You shake your head, the motion slow, like each rejection of hope pulls you deeper into the abyss of loss. “We just assumed she drowned. But it was our fault... we didn’t even search for her... not long enough…” You pause, your gaze drifting out toward the water, your voice barely a whisper, yet so full of the weight of what’s unsaid. “That’s why I come out here…” The words falter as the tears begin anew. “I don’t know if I hope she’ll... magically appear, or if I just want to be closer to her—closer to the sea.”

The quiet understanding in Taehyung’s eyes deepens, and he nods, silently acknowledging the unspoken grief that binds you to the endless waves. 

“But it’s funny,” you continue, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips as you rub your face, trying to quell the storm inside. “I’m afraid of the ocean now.”

His heart aches at the contradiction—how the sea, which once held the promise of freedom, now holds only the echoes of a life lost, a fear that cannot be soothed by the tides. He says nothing, but his gaze speaks volumes, as he shares the silence of your struggle—caught between love and fear, between longing and loss.

He blinks, trying to fathom it—how you, who braved this quiet patch of land in the middle of the lake, could be encircled by the waters that both call to you and haunt you. The vast, endless sea, once a place of freedom, has become something fraught with sorrow.

“I could help you fall in love with the ocean again,” he murmurs, the words slipping out as naturally as the currents beneath him. He doesn’t know why he’s offering, doesn’t fully understand this urge to soothe your fear and restore what’s been taken from you. But he feels it—a pull to guide you back to the sea that you once cherished, to help mend the bond between you and the water.

When he sees your eyes widen with apprehension, he raises his hands gently, adding, “Only if you want to.” 

You ease a little, though the uncertainty remains, and in a barely audible whisper, you murmur, “I don’t know... I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

He nods, understanding the weight of such a decision. “That’s okay,” he says softly. “Honestly, I just don’t want to see you cry anymore.” He offers a gentle smile, one that he hopes brings warmth and a touch of calm, like sunlight filtering through water.

You return the smile, albeit faintly, your expression softening. “Talking to you... it’s helped a lot,” you say, your voice filled with a quiet gratitude.

And in that shared moment, with only the stars and the whispering willows as witness, a fragile peace settles between you.

“But... I think I should get home now,” you murmur, pulling your phone from your bag. Its glow lights your face in the dimness. “It’s gotten really late.”

Taehyung nods, understanding, though a quiet pang tugs at his heart as he imagines this clearing falling silent again once you leave.

Then, to his surprise, you glance back at him, your gaze soft yet hopeful. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

The question catches him off guard; he stares at you, blinking, feeling for a moment like he’s been swept up by a wave. “If... you want me to?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he’s dared to hope too much.

A hint of color blooms on your cheeks, and you smile, gaze dipping shyly. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like to know more about you... and the merfolk. Maybe you could tell me some stories?”

His own grin spreads wide, an earnest promise shining in his eyes. “Absolutely. I’ll be here tomorrow—I promise.”

You rise, stepping lightly over a shallow stretch of water, your feet skimming the surface with a graceful leap. At the other side, you pause and turn, offering a small, lingering wave. He raises his hand in return, smiling as he watches you slip into the night, your figure fading into the shadows beneath the moonlit trees.

For a while, he simply remains, feeling as if the air is alive with all that was left unspoken, the night sky his only witness. And even as you vanish into the distance, Taehyung remains rooted, heart swelling with the promise of a tomorrow colored by your presence.

Thoughts of the brown-haired merman with the shimmering green tail have drifted through your mind since yesterday, haunting you like a half-remembered dream. It suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet the memory of him fills your chest with a quiet, unshakable pull. Now, with night draping the town in deep blue shadows, you find yourself alone on the bus heading toward the outskirts, the only passenger riding out to the edge of the world. 

The hum of your playlist whispers through your earphones, blending with the rhythmic pulse of the bus engine as scenes of darkened fields and silhouetted trees slip by in the windows. Each mile draws you closer, heightening the anticipation tingling beneath your skin, until finally, the bus slows to a stop, releasing you into the night.

You step onto the gravel path and feel a strange comfort in the solitude. The night is vast, the air tinged with the earthy scent of pine and soil, and there are no streetlights to guide your way—only the faint glimmer of starlight scattered across the heavens above. Yet you know this path by heart; your feet follow its familiar curves as though led by an invisible thread. It’s just a kilometer and a half from here to the lake, but each step feels like a journey through realms unknown.

As you approach the grove, you see the willows, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, graceful arms weaving an entryway to something almost sacred. Your heart begins to race as you brush aside the delicate, trailing branches, slipping into the secret world they protect. The lake opens before you, quiet and timeless, bathed in silvery moonlight that dances over the water’s surface. Here, beneath the ancient watch of the willows, you enter a place where magic feels like it lives in every ripple and breath.

With a deep breath, you step closer to the lake’s edge, wondering if he’ll be there, waiting in the shadows between the water and the sky.

In the soft darkness, you quickly realize you’re alone; the lake is still, the merman nowhere in sight. With a small leap, you cross the shallow strip of water, landing on the tiny isle in the center of the lake. You settle yourself down, hugging your knees, feeling the hum of fireflies flickering around you, their gentle glow brushing the air with a living, golden warmth. 

Just as your mind begins to drift, a sudden ripple stirs the water before you, and then—there he is, his head emerging from the lake in a tumble of dripping, tousled brown hair. You flinch, nearly letting out a scream, your pulse skipping a beat at the surprise. But the alarm dissolves in a heartbeat as you recognize the familiar face smiling up at you, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, giggling as he smooths back his wet hair, his green tail flicking playfully above the water’s surface. The moonlight catches the emerald scales, each flicker a tiny flash of silver and jade. He uses his hands to wipe water from his face, looking all the while like he’s trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.

“You didn’t scare me!” you insist, though the quick flush of heat in your cheeks tells otherwise, and you can tell from his grin that he sees right through it. You tilt your chin a little higher, hoping to hide your embarrassment, but he only chuckles, the sound warm and light as it drifts across the water.

“Well, I’ll believe you this time,” he says, smiling at you with a kind of open joy, as if the night was made for moments just like this. You smile back, feeling the tension melt away, replaced by a soft thrill in the air between you.

“Anyway,” you say with a playful glint in your eye, “I forgot to ask your name yesterday.”

He chuckles, low and warm, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. “I’m Taehyung,” he says, his voice rich as velvet.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, offering a soft smile that he mirrors, a kind of light passing between you in the moonlit stillness. 

“So… will you tell me stories about merfolk?” you ask, curiosity woven into every word.

“Of course,” he says, his gaze turning mischievous, “but first, I have something to show you.” With a grin, he lifts a soaked, weighty bag from beneath the water’s surface, droplets glistening like tiny jewels as they cascade off the bag. You blink, leaning forward in wonder, trying to guess at the strange, heavy contents.

He pats the bag with a pride that makes you smile. “This,” he says, with a dramatic flourish, “is some of my collection of things I’ve found from the depths. I think most of it is from your world—the things you humans let slip beneath the waves. I thought you might help me make sense of it all, tell me stories about these objects. And in return,” his eyes twinkle, “I’ll give you stories about the world of merfolk.”

You smile at the offer, enchanted by his plan. “Deal,” you say, nodding as you gesture to the bag. “Can I look inside?” 

“Yeah, go ahead,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes glimmering as he watches you rummage through the bag. Your fingers curl around a heavy, ornate candelabra, its blackened metal arms twisting elegantly like frozen vines. You lift it out, chuckling as his gaze widens with childlike wonder. 

“What’s that thing called?” he asks, his curiosity unguarded, like a boy discovering treasures in a world he’s only dreamed of.

You laugh again, unable to help yourself, quickly hiding it behind the back of your hand as if to stifle the sound. “It’s a candleholder,” you explain, tracing one of its three arms. “You put candles in it to light up the dark.”

He nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face, though you suspect he has no idea what a candle even is. Gently, you set the candelabra down and reach into the bag once more, this time pulling out a pair of glasses. Their frames are thick and black, chipped slightly at the corners—worn with use but still sturdy.

He leans closer, fingers brushing yours as he takes the glasses and slides them onto his nose. They sit awkwardly on his face, far too large, but somehow, they suit him in that effortless way that makes you pause. He blinks, looking around, and then bursts into laughter, a sound as warm as sunlight on water. 

“Wow,” he chuckles, adjusting the frames that threaten to slide off. “I can’t see a thing.” 

The sight of him—eyes crinkled in amusement, wearing something so distinctly human—makes your heart catch for a moment. A creature of the ocean trying on the world of men, and somehow making it his own. 

You giggle softly, reaching forward to slip the glasses off his face, your fingers brushing the warm curve of his cheek. “That’s because they’re prescription glasses,” you explain, setting them down gently. “They’re made to match someone else’s eyes. Sad, really, that someone lost not just these, but maybe even the ability to see clearly.”

He nods, the curiosity in his eyes flickering like candlelight as he watches you tuck the glasses carefully back into the bag. Reaching in again, your fingers close around something sturdy and familiar. When you pull it out, your breath catches—a Nokia 3310. 

The sight of it pulls a laugh from your chest, bright and unrestrained, spilling into the night air. It’s the kind of laugh that folds you in half, clutching your stomach, until tears prick the corners of your eyes. Taehyung stares at you in bewilderment, his head tilting like a puzzled bird, as though you’d just grown fins.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern, as if your laughter might be some kind of human affliction. 

“It’s a phone,” you finally manage to say between giggles, holding up the clunky, ancient relic. “Though it’s… very old.” You run your thumb across the faded tactile buttons, memories bubbling to the surface like a tide returning to shore. “I used to have one just like this. It was one of my first phones, back when my parents finally trusted me to have one.”

His eyes widen, and he leans closer, curiosity sparkling like the fireflies around you. “What do you use it for?” he asks, reaching out to study it, his webbed fingers brushing yours as he takes the small, unassuming device into his hands. 

“For talking to people,” you reply, a hint of nostalgia softening your voice. “Texting, calling… staying connected. Although, this one isn’t exactly great for anything more than snake games and indestructibility,” you add with a grin. “It’s like the dinosaur of phones.”

He turns it over in his hands, fascinated, his tail flicking gently under the water. “Humans carry pieces of their voices in these tiny boxes,” he muses, half to himself, marveling at the strange, forgotten artifact. “How peculiar. And yet… how precious.” 

His words linger in the air between you, weaving something timeless into the quiet magic of the moment. 

“Oh,” he muses, lifting the phone to his ear as if it holds some kind of magic. “Hello?” he says, his voice laced with playful curiosity, pretending to talk to you through the tiny relic. 

Unable to resist, you pull out your own phone and press it to your ear, mirroring him just for the fun of it. “Like that,” you say, laughing, your voice light and airy as it drifts across the water. 

Taehyung smiles, wide and genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling with boyish joy. The way the moonlight catches the sparkle in his gaze makes your chest feel lighter, as if you’ve inhaled the cool night air too deeply. 

He hands you the phone with a careful reverence, and you tuck it gently back into the bag, your fingers brushing against something new. With a slight tug, you pull it free—a lone shoe, scuffed and worn by time.  

Taehyung’s brow furrows, his expression tilting toward amused confusion. “What’s that? Do you… put it on your hand?” he asks, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he’s already imagining some ridiculous scenario.  

The thought makes you laugh, the sound bubbling up like the ripples in the water. You picture him proudly sporting sneakers on his hands, his green tail swishing beneath him. “No,” you say through giggles, “it’s a shoe. Humans wear them on their feet—for walking.” 

He hums, a deep, velvety sound that reverberates through the air, and the richness of it stirs something strange and unbidden in the pit of your stomach. You ignore the feeling, shaking your head as you examine the shoe more closely. 

“Sad that there’s only one,” you muse, holding the sneaker in your palm like it’s a piece of some unsolved puzzle.  

“Why is that sad?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious. 

“Because we need two,” you explain, “one for each foot. Without its pair, it’s... incomplete.”  

Your words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning you didn’t intend, and you quickly place the shoe back in the bag. Yet, as you glance at Taehyung, you wonder if he heard something more in what you said—if he noticed the quiet ache that flickered through your voice, the unspoken longing for things to feel whole again. 

Your hand brushes against something cold and metallic at the bottom of the bag, and it rattles faintly as you pull it out. The moment you register what it is, a flush of heat rushes to your cheeks.  

Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity immediate and innocent. “What is it? What’s wrong?”  

It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. He doesn’t know. How could he possibly understand that a simple pair of handcuffs could mean so many different things—some harmless, others... not so innocent?  

Your grip tightens around the cuffs as they dangle from your fingers, the faint clink of metal against metal feeling louder than it is. His wide, unguarded eyes search your expression for answers, his confusion palpable. “What?” he presses again, his gaze flickering between you and the offending object.  

“They’re handcuffs,” you finally stammer, the words tumbling out as you desperately try to steer your thoughts away from the implications. You clear your throat, willing your heart to stop its frantic drumming.  

His brows knit together as he studies them, and then he looks back at you. “What do you use them for?”  

Your mouth goes dry. There’s no telling how much he knows about... well, things like that. And there’s no way you’re about to be the one to enlighten him. The blush spreads deeper across your cheeks, hot and unrelenting.  

“The police use them,” you blurt out, seizing the first explanation that comes to mind. “They use them to, uh, catch bad guys.”  

He blinks, processing this, then asks with genuine curiosity, “What’s a police?”  

“They’re people who keep the world in order,” you explain hastily, hoping your answer satisfies him as you lower the handcuffs back into the bag like they’ve burned you.  

Taehyung hums softly, his deep voice laced with thought. “Order…” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “I suppose merfolk don’t really have anything like that. The ocean tends to sort itself out.”  

His answer is innocent, but something about it pulls at you. The idea of a world where chaos is natural and balance finds its own way feels... strange, almost liberating. You glance at him, and his green tail flicks gently beneath the surface of the water, shimmering faintly like a piece of living art.  

“Well, up here, we’re a bit messier,” you say, smiling faintly, though your cheeks are still warm.  

He chuckles, the sound rich and comforting, and you realize, despite your embarrassment, that you don’t entirely mind explaining things to him. His curiosity is sincere, untouched by judgment, and somehow that makes all the awkwardness easier to bear. 

You sigh, the weight of your patience thinning, eager to get through this final item so the stories of the sea can take center stage.  

“There’s only one thing left,” Taehyung says with a sly smile, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes like sunlight on water.  

Thank god, you think, nearly rolling your eyes as you reach into the bag. But the moment your fingers wrap around the last object, you freeze. The shape is unmistakable, and a flush creeps up your neck as realization sets in. Yanking it out, you take one horrified look before letting out a sharp shriek and dropping it as if it’s burned you.  

“What? What is it?” Taehyung asks, wide-eyed and concerned as he scoops up the item you just cast away like cursed treasure. His fingers turn it over curiously, the innocent tilt of his head at complete odds with the very not innocent object in his hands.  

Your mind races as you stare at him, slack-jawed, while he inspects the bright pink rabbit vibrator with the studious attention of an archaeologist uncovering an ancient relic.  

Why would anyone throw that into the ocean? you manage to think, your inner voice barely louder than the pounding of your heart. The question burns in your mind: How the hell am I supposed to explain this to him?  

He looks up at you with a grin that could melt glaciers, utterly oblivious, and the sparkle in his eyes seems almost too amused. The corners of his lips curve just a touch more, and for a fleeting second, a traitorous thought worms its way into your head: Does he know what it is?  

“Do you know what that is?” you ask, your brow arching sharply as you try to mask your embarrassment with skepticism.  

He blinks, shaking his head with a childlike earnestness that you don’t entirely trust. “No.”  

But there’s something in his expression, a faint glimmer of mischief that makes you wonder. Could he possibly know what’s currently resting in his slender fingers, a bright pink beacon of mortification? Surely not. How could he?  

“So… what is it?” he asks again, his deep voice smooth and unbothered as if he’s holding a piece of driftwood instead of—that.  

You stammer, words failing you as you try to claw together an explanation. “It’s... it’s a—a toy,” you finally spit out, the word awkward and foreign on your tongue.  

“A toy?” he repeats, his curiosity piqued even further. He looks at it again, squinting at the smooth curves and the dual protrusions like he’s deciphering an ancient riddle. “For children?”  

“No!” you yelp, your voice far too loud as heat blooms across your cheeks. You clasp your hands over your face, groaning. “Not for children. Definitely not for children.”  

He raises a brow, clearly unsatisfied with your vague response. “Then what kind of toy—?”  

You gulp, your cheeks blazing a crimson so fierce they rival the setting sun. The word catches in your throat, but you force it out in a mortified whisper: “It’s... a vibrator.”  

Taehyung tilts his head, his expression innocent, as if the word carries no weight. “Oh, like a massager?” he asks, his long fingers fumbling with the object. The moment it buzzes to life, a low, mischievous hum filling the air, you nearly leap out of your skin.  

The sound seems impossibly loud, vibrating not just in your ears but in the marrow of your bones. He holds it up, studying it with an inquisitive squint. “Where do you use it? Your neck?” he muses, moving to press it behind his back like it’s some magical cure for tension.  

“No!” you shriek, lunging forward in sheer panic. The idea of where it’s been—god, where it’s definitely been—makes your skin crawl. Sure, it’s been submerged in saltwater for who knows how long, but still, the thought is mortifying.  

He pauses, blinking at your outburst, the vibrator buzzing innocently in his hand. His gaze settles on you, expectant, waiting for an explanation you’re loath to give.  

You clear your throat, the heat in your cheeks now spreading to the tips of your ears. “It’s for women,” you mutter, your voice barely audible, “for their... vagina. Now, please, turn it off and put it away.”  

To your immense relief, he does as you ask, clicking it off with a soft whir. But instead of letting it go, he looks at you with wide, curious eyes. “Oh,” he says simply. A beat of silence stretches between you before he tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Have you used one before?”  

Your stomach drops, and for a moment, you swear the earth could crack open beneath you and swallow you whole. Your fingers fidget nervously, and you refuse to meet his gaze. “I... have,” you mumble, your voice so quiet it’s almost swept away by the breeze.  

“Was it good?” he asks, his tone so casual it borders on maddening.  

Your heart pounds so hard it might shatter your ribcage. You feel the blush deepen, a fiery bloom spreading across your face as you croak, “Yeah.”  

His curiosity, however, is relentless. “What do you know about sex anyway?” you huff, folding your arms and glaring at the lake to avoid his amused gaze.  

He grins, that devilish sparkle dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I know plenty,” he says, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver up your spine. “My friend Seokjin told me all about how humans have sex.”  

He waggles his eyebrows in a way that’s both infuriating and utterly ridiculous, and you feel your mortification morph into fury.  

“Wait a minute,” you fume, narrowing your eyes at him. “You knew what the handcuffs and vibrator were from the start, didn’t you?!”  

His grin grows wider, unapologetically mischievous. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lilting like a playful melody. “But watching you explain them was way more fun.”  

You glare at him, seething, but there’s no denying the way his laughter dances across the air, warm and infectious. Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upward, because even in your mortification, there’s something oddly endearing about his teasing.  

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, shaking your head.  

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he counters, his tail flicking in the water, sending ripples out to the edges of the lake.  

And though you’re still burning with embarrassment, a small part of you can’t help but be grateful for the way he makes you laugh—even at your own expense.  

Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, your face blazing like the setting sun, and he just throws his head back, laughter erupting from him in a way that feels alive. It’s full-bodied, unrestrained, his boxy smile lighting up his features as his hands clutch at his stomach, right where shimmering scales meld seamlessly into the emerald sweep of his tail.  

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to fathom how he managed to fool you so effortlessly. But then, it’s impossible to hold onto your indignation when his laughter is so contagious, so you let it pour out of you too—a melody that dances through the night. The sound makes his laughter falter for just a moment, his eyes softening as he looks at you like he’s discovered something rare and wondrous.  

If only you knew, Taehyung thinks, how your laughter could make even the coldest depths of the ocean feel warm.  

The weeks that followed your first meeting have felt like a dream—magical. Night after night, you find yourself drawn to the lake, a place where the lines between your two worlds blur. Each time, Taehyung emerges with treasures gathered from the ocean floor, and you sit together, exchanging pieces of your lives—your world above the waves and his far below.  

“And that’s how Jungkook and I pranked Yoongi,” he says, his laughter spilling into the quiet night as he recounts his mischievous escapades. “He was so pissed, he didn’t talk to us for a week.”  

You laugh too, the image vivid in your mind—Taehyung and his friend causing an octopus to release its ink, staining this poor Yoongi guy’s skin entirely. The chaos, the yelling, the grumbling that followed—it all paints such a comical picture you can’t help but giggle.  

“I mean,” he adds between gasps of laughter, wiping at the corners of his eyes, “Yoongi didn’t say much. He just grumbled a lot... after shouting every curse word he could think of.”  

By now, he’s laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill, his cheeks flushed and his voice trembling with mirth.  

“Oh, don’t cry,” you tease, grinning as you reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch surprises both of you, and his laughter fades, replaced by a gentler smile as he leans ever so slightly into your hand. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, smooth and soft where it meets his scales.  

“I’m not crying,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the depth of it resonating like a gentle current. His dark eyes hold yours, reflecting the scattered stars above. “But I’m glad to see you laughing more.”  

The words hang in the air between you, delicate and sincere, like the faint glow of the fireflies flitting around the lake. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something in the way he looks at you now, something tender and unspoken, that makes your heart race.  

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the soft rustling of the willow branches swaying in the breeze and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. In his gaze, you see more than curiosity or mischief—you see wonder, connection, and something that feels achingly close to magic.  

“Is there more I could do to cheer you up?” he asks, his smile boyish, eager, and filled with a kind of tenderness that seems to spill effortlessly from him. You’ve noticed how much he wants to see you happy—how his every word and action feels like a quiet offering meant to lift the weight you carry.  

You hesitate, your mind swirling with possibilities, but one thought rises above the rest. It’s ridiculous, improbable, and utterly reckless, but it’s been there, simmering in the back of your mind since the night you first met him. He stirs something in you—something unspoken, electric, and undeniably human. Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out, bold and wild, carried by the wind like a confession.  

“Sex would totally cheer me up.”  

For a moment, everything stops. His eyes widen, an ocean of surprise rippling in them, before a smirk curves his lips—a little hesitant, a little mischievous. Then, in a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him, he says, “I’ve never had sex with a human before.”  

The quiet sincerity of his response steals your breath. You were half-joking, throwing the words out as a way to tease him, to distract yourself from the fluttering chaos he always seems to spark in your chest. But his honesty hits you like a wave, and now you’re drowning in the thought—was he taking you seriously?  

Was he considering it?  

Your heart beats like a drum, your cheeks burning as you search his expression for some clue, some sign that this is all just a playful exchange. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, the way his gaze holds yours, curious and unflinching, that makes your pulse race even faster.  

In a voice barely above a whisper, you ask, “Do you… want to have sex with me?” Your words hang in the air, delicate and trembling, but before he can respond, you falter, retreating into the impossibility of it all. “I mean—how would that even work? Can you even have sex with a human?”  

His laughter comes then, rich and warm, breaking the tension like sunlight spilling over water. “I’d just have to turn human,” he says with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, the teasing glint back in his eyes. “And don’t worry—Seokjin’s already told me everything I need to know.”  

You blink, your mind struggling to process the words, the sheer audacity of them. Turn human? Was that even possible? And what on earth had Seokjin told him?  

“Wait—are you serious?” you manage to say, your voice caught between disbelief and something else, something dangerously close to hope.  

He leans in slightly, his face alight with a playful kind of mystery. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, his voice a velvet thread that winds its way into your chest, tightening the knot of emotions there.  

For a moment, you’re lost—in his eyes, in the tantalizing possibility of the unknown, in the way he makes the world feel both infinite and impossibly small. And beneath it all, you can’t help but wonder: could he really mean it? Or was he just as caught up in this strange, electric pull between you as you were?  

“You really want to have sex with me? And you’ve never told me you could turn human?” you exclaim, your hand instinctively landing on his chest with a light slap. His skin is warm under your touch, the smooth planes of muscle glistening faintly in the moonlight.  

He chuckles, a low, velvety sound that sends ripples through the night air. “Yeah, I want to,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady and unwavering. “And if it’ll cheer you up, that’s all the more reason.”  

Before you can fully process his words, he begins to rise from the water, his powerful arms pulling him closer to you. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, his biceps flexing effortlessly as he drags his weight onto the land. When he finally settles next to you, you’re keenly aware of the space—intimate and charged—between you.  

Unable to resist, your fingers reach out to graze his tail. The scales are cool and slick beneath your touch, shimmering faintly with an otherworldly sheen, and you marvel at how something so strange can feel so natural to you now.  

“By the way,” you murmur, suddenly self-conscious, “I was joking when I said it would cheer me up.” The words come out softer than you intend, as a realization settles over you like the whisper of a tide. What if this actually happens? What if he’s doing this only to make you happy? A knot twists in your stomach—you don’t want this just for you. You want him to want this, too.  

But before you can say another word, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath and floods your senses. He moves with a bold tenderness, his tail slipping between your legs, his fin brushing against your feet with a feathery caress.  

And then, the air around you shifts.  

A sudden burst of light swirls between you, glittering like a thousand stars spilling from the heavens. The world tilts as the sparks dance and cascade, wrapping you both in a cocoon of shimmering magic. It’s like something out of an anime—a transformation unfolding in real time, and you’re at the center of it all.  

When the light fades, you blink, your breath hitching as you realize what’s happened.  

He’s no longer a merman.  

He’s human now, entirely, gloriously human, and he’s in your arms—warm skin pressed against yours, lean legs sprawled over yours, and oh god, utterly naked.  

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your voice breaking into a startled shriek as your eyes dart over his form. He’s… breathtaking. Sculpted shoulders, a chest that looks like it was carved from marble, thighs thick and strong, and—  

You gulp, your gaze snapping up to his face as heat floods your cheeks. “You’re completely naked,” you manage to stammer, though your eyes betray you, flickering downward for just a fraction of a second. His cock is thick and wide, making your pussy clench around nothing with need.

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, completely unbothered by his nudity. “You seem surprised,” he teases, his voice warm and teasing, yet carrying an edge of something deeper, something magnetic.  

“Surprised?!” you exclaim, your hands flying up to cover your face, though it does nothing to erase the mental image seared into your brain. “You didn’t warn me there’d be sparkles—or that you’d be… be…”  

“Naked?” he supplies, his grin widening as he shifts, sitting up fully now, his confidence evident in every movement.  

“Yes, naked!” you blurt, peeking through your fingers before quickly looking away, though the heat pooling in your stomach betrays you.  

He chuckles again, a sound so rich and unguarded it makes your heart flutter. “Well, you did say you wanted me human,” he says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Didn’t think you’d mind the details.”  

And as you sit there, utterly flustered and yet inexplicably drawn to him, you realize that everything about him—his laughter, his boldness, his very existence—is impossible and wonderful and so entirely him.  

You can’t explain it, but he feels impossibly firm against your fully clothed body, his presence electric, igniting something deep inside you.  

“Are you sure you want this?” you ask, your voice trembling with anticipation as he moves closer, his heat radiating like a flame that threatens to consume you.  

He nods, his gaze unwavering, filled with earnest longing. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”  

His words are a confession, each syllable laced with reverence, and the look in his eyes—adoring, worshipful—makes your heart stutter. It feels like magic, a spell binding you to him.  

“Okay,” you whisper, the word a contradiction—both weighty and featherlight, heavy with unspoken desire yet liberating in its surrender. “Me too.”  

And that’s all it takes. You move, pulling him into you, your lips colliding like the meeting of two storms. His kiss is both a promise and a claim, as though you’re the air he needs to live, and he the fire you’ve long craved.  

Slowly, with a patience that speaks of devotion, he begins to undress you. Each garment falls away as if he’s unveiling a masterpiece, his hands reverent, his movements deliberate. When you’re bare before him, his gaze darkens, his eyes almost black with desire.  

“Beautiful,” he breathes, the word half-hissed, as though the sight of you has stolen the air from his lungs.  

His hand follows the curve of your body, his touch like a whisper of silk. He starts at your face, tracing your jawline with tender precision, down your neck to your collarbones, his fingers pausing there as though savoring their discovery.  

When his hand reaches your breasts, he marvels, his eyes lit with something almost holy. He cups you gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple with deliberate care before giving the softest pinch. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes your lips.  

Your breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heart, and for a moment, the world narrows to his touch, his gaze, the unspoken symphony of longing between you.

“Beautiful and soft,” he murmurs, his voice a low caress that seems to reverberate through your very soul. His hands move with reverence, each touch deliberate as he plays with the sensitive bud, his thumbs circling slowly, then firmly, coaxing pleasure to bloom within you like wildflowers in moonlight. Your back arches, surrendering to the heavens, the stars and moon bearing witness to your abandon.  

A moan escapes you, unbidden, as a delicious heat prickles along your skin, pooling low in your core. Your body clenches with a desperate, aching need, the anticipation winding tighter, a tether you’re helpless to sever.  

Leaning in, he captures one of your peaks with his tongue, the wet warmth making you gasp. He laps and sucks, teasing the sensitive bud, alternating between delicate flicks and firm pulls that make you shiver. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, your breathing fractured, chest heaving beneath his attentions.  

The pleasure courses through you, each wave leaving you more undone. His hand glides downward, slow and purposeful, until his fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. When he touches your clit—softly, tenderly—you cry out, the sensation a spark igniting the kindling of your desire. He rubs in slow, steady circles, his movements measured, drawing your body taut like a bowstring.  

You open yourself to him, your legs parting further, an invitation, a plea for more. He obliges, his touch deepening, pressing just enough to send your mind spiraling. Your lips part as his name falls again, broken yet fervent:  

“Taeh—”  

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, the sound somehow sinful and divine all at once. His mouth captures yours in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, his fingers never faltering as they continue their dance, coaxing you toward the edge of bliss.  

“Oh, damn—I’m coming,” you gasp, the words barely coherent as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming. Your body trembles, arching and writhing beneath him as he keeps his fingers pressed to your clit, guiding you through the storm.  

The world dissolves, nothing remaining but the feel of him—the press of his hand, the warmth of his lips, and the intoxicating scent of crushed grass and wildflowers mingling with your release. You shatter, and he holds you there, steady and unyielding, until every last tremor has subsided, leaving you breathless, boneless, and utterly his.  

You pant, lost in the haze of bliss, when his lips find yours again, deep and searching. He pulls back, his breath hot against your skin, and whispers, “Lay down.”  

Everything seems to blur and quicken as you lower yourself to the cool, soft grass, your body now bare beneath the endless expanse of the night sky. You gaze up at him—his silhouette framed by a sea of stars, the moon casting a halo around him. He looks almost otherworldly, his form glowing with an ethereal radiance that makes your heart race. He is a creature of light and shadow, of dreams made flesh.  

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your pulse quicken. His finger traces the delicate line of your most intimate place, circling your entrance slowly, gauging your arousal. You nod, biting your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.  

“Yes,” you whisper, and the word feels like an offering, a surrender.  

“Okay,” he breathes, his own desire evident in the strained sound of his voice. He grabs his cock, guiding it toward your trembling pussy, his eyes dark with longing.  

He enters you in one slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. The stretch is delicious, his thickness causing you to gasp, your body trembling with the sensation. It’s a sweet burn, a delicate ache that soon blooms into pleasure so intense you can hardly contain it.  

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, as he buries himself fully inside you. His breath hitches in your ear, and you smile up at him, your fingers lightly brushing his face. “You can move,” you murmur, your voice laced with both permission and longing.  

And move he does. He snaps his hips into you, a rhythm fast and unforgiving, each thrust driving deeper, harder, until it feels like the world is collapsing around you. You arch into him, your back lifting off the ground, the fire of his touch igniting every inch of your body. His gaze is fixed on you, unblinking, as though he’s memorizing each beautiful movement you make. You feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like you belong to him, body and soul.  

Above you, fireflies weave a dance of light, their tiny bodies glowing like stars that have fallen to earth, illuminating the scene with an otherworldly magic. Everything feels heightened, suspended in a perfect, timeless moment.  

His thrusts become faster, more urgent, and he grunts, the sound of it raw and desperate. “Does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse, as if the question alone is a prayer.  

You can only nod, your words lost in the haze of desire, the world around you fading until it’s just him, just this—his body moving against yours, his love, his devotion, filling every corner of your being. The stars burn brighter, the moon shines sharper, and the night is alive with the pulse of your passion.  

“Yeah, fuck, keep going,” you gasp, your voice strained with pleasure as one hand drifts between your legs, your fingers pressing against your clit, adding to the fire building within you.  

“If you hadn’t told me this was your first time, I never would have believed it,” you moan, a light laugh escaping your lips at the irony, the sound breathless and full of delight.  

“I’m a quick study,” he replies, his voice thick with desire, the words almost lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, which grow faster and harder, filling you with a sweet, burning ache.  

“I can tell,” you chuckle, the sound laced with arousal as your body tightens around him, waves of pleasure building relentlessly. You feel your pussy pulse, clenching around him, your mind spiraling deeper into lust. You know it's coming—the release.  

And then it hits, a wave of ecstasy so powerful it consumes you, making you tremble beneath him. Your body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, and you can’t help but watch the way his face contorts in bliss, as he too is undone by the intensity of it. His own release is mirrored in the expression he wears, raw and breathtaking.  

His breath catches, a strained groan slipping past his lips as he pants your name. “Shit... I think I’m coming too.” 

With a few more desperate thrusts, he pushes into you, then pauses, his body tense, his warmth flooding you as his release spills deep inside. He falters, his chest heaving as he gathers his breath, his hands resting on your body, feeling the heat of the moment linger between you.  

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice ragged, as he gently pulls away, a mixture of your essences slipping from you. You lie there, still breathless, feeling the aftershocks of your climax.

“Yeah,” you chuckle softly, your voice light, your mind floating in a haze of pleasure. The world around you feels like a distant echo, the only reality is the sensation of your skin against his and the shared stillness between you.

He falls beside you, pulling you close, his arm draped over you as the two of you gaze up at the sky. The moon casts a gentle glow over you both, and the stars seem to shimmer with a quiet promise, as if the universe itself is watching over this moment—a perfect, fleeting connection.  

Together, you breathe in the night air, wrapped in the softness of each other, lost in the beauty of the silence and the stars above.  

“Okay,” you whisper, the tremor in your voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the night. “I’m only doing this because you’re a great swimmer.” You pause, searching his eyes for reassurance, then add with a nervous smile, “And in return, I’ll take you into town and show you the human world, yeah?”  

Taehyung nods, his boxy grin softening into something earnest, something that feels like a promise. His hand is warm in yours, grounding you as your feet hover over the edge of the water. The lake stretches before you, dark and endless, the moonlight spilling across its surface in molten silver. It looks almost too serene, as if the stillness is holding its breath just for you.  

His words from before echo in your mind: “Let me help you. Let me bring you back to the sea you loved so much.” And though fear thrums in your chest, louder than the cicadas singing in the trees, you want this—you need this.  

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward. The water laps at your toes, cold and sharp, sending a cascade of goosebumps along your arms. You grip Taehyung’s hand tighter, his skin smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and he squeezes back, a silent gesture of encouragement.  

The moon seems to follow your every movement, its light dancing on the rippling water as you wade further in. Your breath quickens as the chill seeps into your skin, prickling and biting, but you push through. Each step feels monumental, each shift of your weight a battle between fear and the yearning to reclaim what you’ve lost.  

“That’s good,” he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby in the quiet night. His tail flicks softly beneath the surface, the faint ripple of green scales catching the moon’s glow.  

The lake deepens around you until the water clings to your shoulders, wrapping you in its cool embrace. And then, almost unexpectedly, the fear begins to ebb away. The weight of it dissolves into the lake as you exhale, replaced by a gentle calm that fills the spaces where terror once lived.  

You look up at Taehyung and meet his eyes, wide and filled with wonder. He’s smiling again, that signature grin of his lighting up the night in a way the moon could never replicate. You can’t help but smile back.  

“Do you want to go further out?” he asks, his voice impossibly soft. The question hangs between you, fragile yet full of promise. “Into the ocean?”  

You bite your lip, your heart pounding—not from fear this time, but from the exhilaration of possibility. Slowly, you nod.  

Without a word, he tugs you gently, his hand guiding yours, his tail slicing through the water with an effortless grace. Your legs begin to move, kicking hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence. He keeps you close, his touch steady and protective, and together, you leave the lake behind.  

The lake falls away into the vastness of the open water, the air thick with salt and magic. The stars scatter above you, a million glimmering diamonds against the velvet sky. The water, now alive with bioluminescent trails from Taehyung’s tail, shimmers with an ethereal glow.  

You’re weightless here, suspended between the heavens and the depths, and it feels like stepping into a storybook. The world is no longer fractured or frightening—it’s whole, alive, and breathtaking.  

And beside you, Taehyung glides effortlessly, his presence a soothing balm to your once-shattered heart. In this moment, with the ocean opening up before you and the stars watching over, you know one thing for certain: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.  

“You’re doing really good,” Taehyung says, his voice warm and soothing. “Try kicking more with your legs.”  

You follow his advice, your legs cutting through the water with newfound confidence, and before long, you’re pulling him along behind you, laughing as the cool waves ripple against your skin. You knew from the start he couldn’t truly teach you how to swim—his tail was no match for human legs—but Taehyung doesn’t need to. His presence is grounding, steadying, a quiet assurance that you’re safe.  

You realize now what he meant by helping you: not instruction, but support. The kind of unwavering belief that holds you together, even when you feel like falling apart.  

As you let go of his hand and strike out on your own, a rush of elation courses through you. You’re not just swimming—you’re reclaiming a part of yourself you thought was lost. The ocean, once a source of dread, now feels like an old friend. The fear that gripped you for so long begins to dissolve as you glide through the water, your laughter mingling with the soft lapping of the waves.  

Memories rise, bittersweet and unbidden, of why you were scared to return to this vast expanse. The sea had taken something from you, something precious—the storm that swept in like an uninvited guest, the yacht pitching, and the moment your friend was lost over the railing. For so long, you blamed the ocean for that night, as if its depths had swallowed your joy. But now, floating under the gentle gaze of the moon, you see it differently.  

The sea is not cruel, you think. It’s wild and untamed, yes, but not malicious. The storm wasn’t its doing—it was just a fleeting chaos in a vast, timeless rhythm. And in this moment, it feels too grand, too beautiful to carry hatred for.  

“Look at you!” Taehyung giggles behind you, his voice buoyant and bright. “You’re a natural!”  

You beam, the cool water cradling your body as you bask in your rediscovered love for swimming. “I’ve always loved this,” you admit, your voice soft with wonder.  

He swims alongside you, his tail carving shimmering paths through the water like brushstrokes on a dark canvas. The stars overhead seem to dance in approval, their reflections glittering on the surface around you. This—this moment—is everything. Swimming beneath the moon, the world hushed save for the symphony of waves and distant cicadas, feels like stepping into a dream you’d never dared to live.  

“Thank you,” you say suddenly, your voice carrying all the weight of your gratitude. You swim closer, throwing your arms around him in a hug that’s both wet and warm, your lips brushing his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you so much, Tae.”  

He smiles, his boxy grin full of affection, and he pulls you close in return. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead that feels as soothing as the water surrounding you.  

And then you’re off again, splashing and twirling, laughter spilling from your lips like a melody carried by the wind. Taehyung follows, his laughter joining yours, the two of you creating ripples in the starlit expanse. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free—weightless, unburdened, as if the sea has forgiven you, just as you’ve forgiven it.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun casting dappled light through the willow trees as you make your way to the lake. The air hums with the sound of cicadas, and the gentle rustle of leaves parts like a curtain as you step through, revealing him waiting on the shore. Taehyung’s gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.  

You’re dressed simply—skin-tight jeans that cling to your curves and a silky blouse that catches the light, its neckline teasing just enough to leave him utterly captivated. The way the sunlight dances off your skin makes his chest tighten, though he’s not entirely sure why.  

“I brought you clothes,” you say with a bright smile, lifting the bag in your hand. The way your voice lilts makes him feel as if you’ve given him a gift far more precious than mere fabric.  

He slides up to the shore with effortless grace, his tail shimmering as it transitions from water to grass. For a few moments, he lies there, waiting for the transformation. And then it happens. Sparkles swirl around him, catching the afternoon sun like scattered diamonds, and when the magic fades, he’s there—human, bare, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking.  

You feel your cheeks heat but quickly hand him the bag to spare yourself further fluster. He takes the clothes with a sheepish grin, his fingers brushing yours as he does.  

The trousers hang loose on his lean frame, and the dark shirt pools around his shoulders, but there’s something charming about the way he wears them, as though he’s stepped from another world into yours. The sneakers are slightly too big, but he doesn’t seem to care. With each article of clothing, he seems more human, yet no less ethereal.  

As you both set off, walking hand in hand toward the bus stop, the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s a companionable quiet that speaks of trust, of connection. His thumb brushes yours absentmindedly, and though neither of you says a word, the unspoken is enough.  

When the bus arrives, its brakes hissing like a sleepy beast, Taehyung’s eyes widen with curiosity. He steps on cautiously, his hand tightening around yours as if the bus might lurch away without him. Once seated, he leans into the window, his breath fogging the glass as he watches the world rush past.  

The hum of the engine vibrates through the seats, and the tires drum a rhythm against the dirt road. His wide eyes follow the transformation outside—fields giving way to neat suburban houses, their gardens dotted with children’s toys and bicycles. As the bus turns toward the city, his wonder grows.  

Apartment buildings rise like mountains on the horizon, their windows glittering in the sunlight. Storefronts flash by, their signs alive with color and light. People crowd the sidewalks, their lives a blur of motion and chatter.  

He glances at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a soft, awestruck curve of his lips that warms your chest. You squeeze his hand gently, grounding him in this moment, reminding him that he’s not alone in this strange, thrilling world.  

For Taehyung, the city is a symphony of sights and sounds, but nothing captivates him more than the simple fact that you’re here, guiding him through it all. And for you, watching him discover this part of your world feels like seeing it anew—through his eyes, it’s not ordinary; it’s magic.

You start your evening simply, leading him to a quaint little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The atmosphere is warm and intimate, a soft hum of conversation filling the air as the golden glow of hanging lights dances off the walls. Taehyung sits across from you, marveling at the human ritual of shared meals. He takes his first bite, his eyes widening at the burst of flavor, and you can’t help but smile at his boyish delight.  

But it’s not just the food he’s savoring—it’s you. The way your eyes glimmer with an unspoken invitation, calling to him like the moon calls the tides. He feels it then, that pull he’s been ignoring, the one that started the moment he first saw you by the lake.  

When the meal is over, you step out into the cool night air, walking side by side under the glow of streetlights. Laughter spills from nearby pubs, and Taehyung watches as groups of drunk revelers weave their way through the streets, their joy unrestrained and contagious. He chuckles when his gaze falls on couples pressed into shadowy corners, stealing kisses like they’re the only two people in the world.  

“You humans are so bold,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement.  

You laugh softly, tugging his arm.

You pass by the flashing neon signs of different clubs, their thumping music spilling into the streets like siren songs. Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity piqued, and asks if you should step into one. You shake your head, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Not yet. Trust me, you’ll love where we’re going.”  

When you finally arrive, the club you’ve chosen feels different from the others. It’s darker, sultrier, with low lighting that shimmers like moonlight on water. The music is a steady, hypnotic rhythm that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat. You guide him to the bar, ordering drinks for the both of you. Taehyung sips hesitantly at first, but the sweet taste lights up his face, and you can’t help but laugh.  

“Good?” you ask, and he nods, licking his lips.  

The tension melts from your body as the alcohol warms your veins, and soon, the music pulls you both to the dance floor. The crowd is a sea of movement, bodies swaying and turning in time with the beat. You guide Taehyung, his hands finding your hips as you press yourself closer to him.  

You move together, your body a tide and his a willing wave. The space between you disappears, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away—just the two of you, lost in the rhythm, the charged air between you humming with something electric.  

He feels it too, a spark that ignites into a slow-burning fire. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as his thoughts spiral into places they shouldn’t in the middle of a crowded club. You sense it, the shift in his energy, and it sends a thrill down your spine.  

Leaning close, your lips brush his ear, your voice a whisper that cuts through the music. “Let’s go back to my place.”  

His gaze meets yours, smoldering and intent, and without a word, he lets you lead him through the crowd, out into the cool night once more. The street feels quieter now, the distant sound of music fading as the two of you walk side by side, the tension between you a palpable thread pulling tighter with every step.  

And for Taehyung, the city lights and human rituals fade into the background, because tonight, the only thing he wants to discover is you.  

He lets you guide him through the labyrinth of streets, his footsteps light as if tethered to the ground only by your hand in his. When you reach your apartment, the city lights framing you in a warm glow, you turn with sudden intensity, capturing his lips in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from his lungs. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like a storm breaking against the shoreline, and he is helpless to do anything but let himself be swept away.  

Inside, the air crackles with something electric as you push him onto the bed, a playful glint in your eyes as you reveal the purpose of the handcuffs he had once puzzled over. The hours blur into each other, a symphony of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the exploration of one another until the world outside feels like a distant dream. When it’s well past midnight and the city sleeps, you slip your hand into his and insist on walking him home, your care wrapping around him like a warm tide.  

As you wait at the bus stop, the quiet hum of the night settling over you both, your fingers entwine with his in a silent gesture of connection. He glances at you, your profile softened by the faint glow of streetlights, and feels his heart swell with gratitude. You are extraordinary, he thinks, and he’s unsure what he’s done to deserve this moment, this person.  

The bus arrives, a gentle roar breaking the stillness, and carries you both back to the edge of the city. As the wheels roll closer to the lake, the stars above seem to multiply, glinting like scattered diamonds on velvet. When you disembark, the familiar scent of earth and water greets you, and he feels an ache deep inside, not wanting this night to end.  

The willow trees part for you like curtains drawn back on a stage, revealing the magical lake shimmering under the fireflies’ dance. Their golden lights swirl in the darkness, casting soft halos around the two of you. Your hands remain clasped, neither of you willing to break the fragile spell.  

He notices you biting your lip, nervous, as though searching for the right words. When you look up at him, your eyes glimmer with something unspoken, and your voice comes, hushed and thick with emotion. “Today’s been really amazing,” you confess, the sincerity in your tone wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “I love spending time with you. And everything you’ve done to help me…” Your voice catches, and you squeeze his hands, grounding yourself in him. “I’m so grateful.”  

Your words hang in the air like a soft melody, resonating deep within him. He holds your gaze, his chest tightening, knowing he feels the same but unsure how to say it without stumbling over the weight of what he feels. The night wraps around you both like a shared secret, and in this moment, the lake, the stars, and the world beyond seem to exist only for you two.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, his voice warm and steady, laced with genuine appreciation. “I’ve cherished every moment with you and all you’ve shared of the human world.” His gaze lingers on yours, the weight of his sincerity weaving a soft glow between you.  

“Will I see you again?” The words escape your lips like a breath of wind, fragile and light, as though you fear his answer might shatter you. But the gentle smile that touches his face erases your doubt.  

“Always,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your hand, grounding you in his presence. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it feels like a promise written in starlight. When he pulls away, his eyes linger on yours, sparkling like the lake behind him. “This will always be our secret little spot,” he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of eternity, before sealing his vow with another kiss.  

The cool night air brushes against your skin as he begins to disrobe, handing the clothes back to you with a playful smirk. You fold them carefully, tucking them into the bag, which you place against the base of a willow tree. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, as though savoring these final moments of shared stillness. Then, with a fluid leap, he disappears into the water, and the transformation begins.  

Your breath catches as his form shimmers under the moonlight, the emerald-green of his tail emerging from the surface like a dream come to life. The water glints where it cascades from his body, the lake embracing him like it’s welcoming its own. He turns to you, the playful glint in his eyes softened by something deeper, something unspoken.  

You crouch at the edge of the lake, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his lips, the coolness of the water mingling with his warmth. When he pulls away, a radiant smile graces his face, and you feel your chest flutter, as though your heart has been kissed by the night itself.  

As he swims away, his tail slicing gracefully through the water, you watch with awe, unable to look away from the way the moonlight dances across the ripples he leaves behind. A quiet smile settles on your lips, and as the willow branches sway gently overhead, you feel it—the deep and unshakable knowledge that this is not an ending but the start of something wondrous, something infinite. 

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst

→ Author’s endnote: hiii! What did you think? I’m working on the last 3 mermaid stories as well, though I feel unsure about the plot, but, I’ll try to make them good for you. I hope you liked this one, and thank you so much for reading ✨

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[childrenofcain-if]

I believe content creators are taken for granted to the point of dehumanization. For some stupid reason (entitlement) people easily discard the fact creators put their blood and sweat and tears into their work, and by sharing it they're being vulnerable because there will always be a part wondering "what if there's a bad review, what if someone doesn't like it". It's so easy to exit a page they're not fucking with and yet, they still go out of their way to be rude for nothing but five seconds of apparent superiority because gods know there's nothing else relevant enough going on in their lives.

I know I'm just a stranger online, but I mean it when I say I am proud of your strength to return after being so grossly disrespected and having your privacy violated. You shouldn't have had to be strong, but you were and are and that's still commendable regardless of how infuriating.

Now... shall we open that can of worms??? (i am opening it). In my free time during these past two days I've managed a 6 page doc on my mc 🫠🫠 i am not joking when i say it has taken over my life (no pressure or anything I'm just very proud of it and I've adopted my own character like it's a stray dog getting famous on ig. also, any typos etc and i blame it on English not being my native language)

https://eu.docworkspace.com/d/sINHdr5iUAvqkjbgG?sa=601.1123

Also, Céline will indeed be pegged and gagged (affectionately) once mc comes for her feelings-denying ass, xe will singlehandedly fix her like xe's bob the builder

anyways... i have taken enough of your time ✋🏻😞 proceed cooking with your whole chest

i thought you were joking but you really went all out hELP 😭 also, i’m convinced some of y’all are peeking into my notes because how tf do you know that MC may get a chance to adopt a hypoallergenic stray cat one day 🫣

the way your MC is jealous of how close C and D are is so real please 😭 people in their summer camp were so sure they were dating but they were so disgusted with the idea since they’re practically siblings atp.

i’m going to keep your doc as one of my references ngl. i salute you, dear bonnie 🫡 lex has become one of my fav fan OCs ever.

[five-bi-five-mind]

obviously no rush or anything but i have a future jj x fem!reader fic in mind for you…..

basically reader having lunch with emily at jj’s and r’s apartment, and they both start talking about their sex lives.

r says how much fun jj was when they first met and moved in together, which leads emily to ask “what about now?”

r gets all flustered and explains that jj kind of got vanilla and a little boring. also saying she had to fake a couple orgasms….

jj comes home and overhears, so she takes r to the bedroom and RAILS her over and over again

just an idea:)

Stuck In a Rut

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Word count: 6.4k+

Genre: Smut

Summary: Since moving in with JJ, things have kind of slowed down. It’s not that you’re not still in love, you’re head over heels for her. It’s that one certain aspect has gotten a bit… dull. What you really want is for JJ to stop being so soft with you at least for once, but how do you tell her that?

Warnings: degradation kink; name calling; over stimulation; strap-on (r receiving); biting; top!JJ, bottom!r; praise kink; dumbification; let me know if I forgot things

A/N: so this is a little different than the request. I didn’t get all the details because I just kind of ran with it but uhhhh hope you enjoy 🫣 and yaaaay 1k celebration!

To say things had gotten a little stale… seemed harsh, but it was the truth. You and JJ had moved in together about six months ago after a year of dating and then there was just a change, a lull. It wasn’t that you two weren’t in love, you both very much were. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy to be her girlfriend or she wasn’t happy to be yours, she showed you off any chance she got and you did the same. It wasn’t that you two weren’t compatible to live together either. Things felt comfortable and safe, more so than they ever had before. Everything seemed perfect, but there was just one thing that got, well, a little boring. And that was your sex life. 

You honestly couldn’t understand what happened. When you two didn’t live together things were still pretty exciting and any time you were with JJ in that way, it took your breath away. The shift happened about two months into living together. The first month, you two still had that excitement. JJ had insisted on fucking you on pretty much any and every surface possible. She said it would make the place “feel like home” and you happily went along with it. But then the second month came and things slowed down and kept slowing and slowing and slowing… until suddenly all that heat and excitement of JJ having you in a way that you wouldn’t want anyone else to just got a little lackluster. 

The worst part was, it wasn’t like your sex life actually stopped per se, it was just that it got, quite frankly, dull. JJ suddenly shifted from being an exciting lover who would leave you breathless after every encounter, to a soft and slow one. Not to say you didn’t enjoy that sometimes. Just not all the time. 

What you wondered was what even caused this shift in her? Was it all the domesticity that you two found yourself surrounded in now that you lived together? Part of you thought that was it. JJ had definitely gotten softer herself as your relationship with her progressed and you loved that about her. She was so guarded at first, but she really dropped those walls down the more you two fell in love. You just wished that maybe that softness didn’t have to be present all the time. 

Just thinking about that made you feel terrible too. JJ was truly the perfect partner in all other aspects and you genuinely were so happy. But you were also just a little bit on edge. You never thought you were someone who would get a little snappy just from having a dull sex life, but here you were. You could tell the shift in yourself, even if you tried so hard to hide it. It was just that after a handful of nights with JJ ended more than a little disappointing on your part, there was only so much frustration you could deny in yourself. What’s worse and made you feel quite a bit guilty was that you had to fake things. There was no way in hell you were going to tell JJ that she wasn’t doing it for you. You could see the conversation now and the hurt look she’d get. It was the worry that telling her she wasn’t getting you there would be interpreted as she wasn’t enough for you that kept you silent about your whole little predicament. Lucky for you, JJ didn’t seem to see through any of it and continued on to be the obliviously happy girlfriend you knew her to.

Unfortunately for you, while your girlfriend didn’t notice, her best friend somehow did. 

Emily was no stranger to you, even if she was originally JJ’s friend. One of the best parts about dating JJ was that, not only did the two of you click with each other, but you also clicked with each other’s friends. So, as you got to know JJ and fall in love with her, you simultaneously fell in love with JJ’s friend group as well and quickly got comfortable with the people she surrounded herself with. One such friend that you felt particularly safe and comfortable with was Emily. So when she showed up at the apartment you and JJ shared when JJ was out running errands for the day, it was no problem for you to invite Emily in anyways and spend some quality time with her.

In fact, Emily expected you to be there. She came bearing lunch for the three of you, wanting to just chat if you and JJ were free. You told her JJ was out, but she still gladly stayed and chatted with you. And you were honestly grateful for the company, despite how wound up you were from your current predicament with your girlfriend. 

The two of you spent all of your time that afternoon just chatting about your lives. While you might be more on edge than you usually are, you weren’t about to turn done some quality time with good company. There was a large chunk of your days spent alone since JJ’s job was so demanding. While you appreciated that JJ was out doing errands alone, because you didn’t feel like you had the patience for Saturday afternoon crowds, you still were always excited for any kind of company you could get. So, to have Emily over and bringing her positivity into your space was a refreshing surprise. 

When lunch was finished and the rest was packed up for when JJ returned you mentioned that you had a bit of random chores around the house to do that you had intended to get done before JJ got home. To your surprise, Emily eagerly offered to help and that’s how you found yourself standing next to her and folding laundry in your bedroom. 

The conversation kept up just as it did when you two were enjoying lunch, but somehow the topic jumped dramatically and you weren’t entirely sure when the shift even happened. You didn’t think of yourself as a particularly open person when it came to the topic of your romantic life, especially when the person you were discussing it with was your partner’s best friend, but here you were.

Emily’s question about it really caught you off guard. It was innocent enough; a simple “so how are things with you two?” that you answered with what you thought was an enthusiastic response. Except, Emily followed your answer with a very telling “but…” and, suddenly you looked at her like you were caught red handed.

“It’s okay,” Emily smiled at you as she delicately folded a random towel. “Whatever you say stays between the two of us. I can just tell that you’ve been a little on edge lately.”

How could she tell? You thought you were hiding it so well! If she noticed, does that mean JJ noticed? But then, JJ was the type to actually say something if she could see that something felt wrong and she hadn’t said anything to you at all yet. So, hopefully Emily was the only one to see through your “everything is perfect” kind of act. 

“It’s not that we’re not good,” you began, refusing to make eye contact with Emily. “It’s just that… Well… I’m not unhappy.”

“Of course not,” Emily reassured.

“And JJ is a loving partner who treats me well.”

“As JJ should,” Emily nods along. 

“But… there’s just something about living together that’s changed us.”

Emily stilled her hands and turned to look at you thoughtfully. Her smile was still there, soft and reassuring, but she had this little glint in her eye that told you she could see almost exactly what you were getting at. It was as if she just already knew.

“Sometimes, when people move in together they can get a little comfortable,” Emily explained. “That comfortable feeling can go a little too far with some couples. Some might say that their partners tend to forget the romantic aspect to their new life together.”

“It- It’s not that,” you shook your head hard. It wasn’t that JJ wasn’t romantic with you anymore. She would often come home with flowers or still surprise you with beautiful dates in very thoughtfully picked locations. During those times you’d still feel the romance and the love. If you were being honest, in all aspects of your relationship with JJ minus your little bedroom problem, you both were very much still in a little love bubble. A lot of couples lose their honeymoon phase around this time in your relationship, but you could proudly say that that rushing, gushy feeling you got when you were near JJ was still very much alive and well. But again, it was alive and well in every aspect, but one. And that one aspect was really starting to drag you down. “We’re comfortable, but it makes me happy. She’s still just as romantic as when we first met.”

“Mhm, so if it’s not that… And you’ve been on edge….” Emily nodded to herself. You eyed her nervously, wondering if the look she was currently wearing was one you might see if you saw her on the job. “Oh, it’s the sex!” 

Your eyes practically fell out of your head as she blurted out her epiphany. 

“Emily!” 

“It is, isn’t it?” Emily leaned towards you with a satisfied smirk. “Oh, it’s okay, we can talk about these things.” She waved her hand dismissively as she spoke. “Sometimes, it happens. Things get a little old. Have you tried telling JJ what you want?”

“Well…”

“That’s a no,” Emily answered for you. “You know JJ is crazy about you, right? If you told her you wanted to try something new, she would listen.”

“I- I mean, maybe.” You rubbed sheepishly at your arm, the laundry forgotten as  soon as Emily started to toe into this territory with you. “Jennifer, she can be… What’s the right word… prideful? That’s not quite it, but still, she’d take it very personally.”

“Well, she has to know you’re not enjoying yourself.”

You didn’t say anything at that, giving her just a tight lipped smile. Emily eyed you for a moment, scrutinizing why you seemed to look so guilty all of a sudden until realization filled her features.

“You’re faking it!” Emily pointed at you, flinging a hand towel across the room in the process. 

“Emily!” You gasped, your face turning different shades of red.

“What?” Emily shrugged. “We’re friends! Friends talk about these things!”

“Yes, but JJ is your friend first!”

“Okay…?” Emily’s eyebrow was arched as she stared at you, as if you weren’t making any sort of sense. She couldn’t deny that she was JJ’s friend first. There’s some loyalty there; some stuff you didn’t discuss with your partner’s best friend when it was about your partner herself. “I’m your friend too. Whatever is shared between us, stays between us.”

Emily’s eyes were earnest, but still you were way too hesitant to just spill your guts completely. Except, she kept staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to confirm her accusation. 

“So,” Emily started up again when you took too long to respond. “If you’re faking it, then JJ has no idea you’re in this little rut, does she?”

You bit your lip and shook your head sheepishly in response. “It’s– Well, it’s only been a few times,” you offered as if that made it sound any better. “That I, you know, faked it, I mean.”

“I see…” Emily trailed off, thinking to herself. “So, if you’re going to go about this, you need to do it gently.”

“And what is it exactly that I’m doing?”

“Telling JJ what you want.” She said that as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Obviously, if you’ve been stuck in this dilemma long enough for Emily to notice, it wasn’t all that simple. 

“Emily,” you warned. “It’s not that easy.”

“Why?” Emily’s question was genuine, not accusatory, and it had you thinking about why exactly it was so hard for you. You did have a very real fear that you’d embarrass and hurt JJ’s pride if you brought up this little problem, but was that all that it was? 

“I’m not sure,” you sighed. “It just is.”

“Because you’re nervous?” Emily’s question finally connected the dots. It wasn’t just that you were worried about hurting JJ by revealing that you’d been bored with your sex life, it was that you were also too shy to ask for more. “You shouldn’t be. This problem won’t be fixed until you tell her what you want, you know.” 

“It’s- Emily, it’s kind of hard for me to just come out and say all of that to her!” Look at the horrible job you were doing right now just talking about it vaguely with Emily. Your face was so flushed you could imagine that you looked a bit like a tomato at this point. Emily didn’t seem phased by any of this, but your palms were sweating and your stomach was churning and you felt so shy and embarrassed. This wasn’t something you were used to talking about with anyone, let alone a friend of your partner’s. “What would I even say to her?”

“What you’re telling me,” Emily suggested. “Whatever it is that you want, I’m sure when you get it out in the open, JJ will at least consider it. She wants to make you happy and if you’re not happy, eventually she’ll figure it out and she won’t be happy either.”

“You’re right,” you nodded in agreement. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to find the right words.”

“Well, without much detail, what do you want?”

“Just more…” you were struggling to find the right words. “Fire? Passion? I’m not really sure. It just feels like some of the passion is gone. She’s so gentle that it’s boring. I know it’s her way of showing me that she loves and cherishes me, but I want more. I want something new, something with that… that rushing feeling we used to get.” 

Emily nodded in understanding of everything you were saying. She gave you some more encouraging words on trying to bring it up with JJ, but soon the conversation went back to normal things and wondering what was taking JJ so long. Neither of you heard the front door open fifteen minutes earlier and the soft footsteps that lead to where you and Emily shared your heart-to-heart. 

It wasn’t until you heard some clanging in the kitchen that you realized JJ was home. Luckily for you, by the time you were aware that she was home your conversation with Emily had turned back to normal things. A small part of you was worried JJ was home much earlier than you realized and could possibly have heard everything, but you shook that fear off, knowing JJ would announce her presence as soon as she arrived like she usually did.

But, for whatever reason, this time JJ didn’t. This time, unbeknownst to you, she heard it all and neither you nor Emily realized it. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emily spent a few more hours with the two of you now that JJ was home too. Everything was pleasant and JJ seemed to be happy to see her friend on her day off, but there was something you couldn’t quite place. JJ was just slightly more quiet than usual. 

With you and JJ, the two of you were so in sync that you knew immediately whenever she was upset or in a bad mood. Tonight, that wasn’t what it was. It was as if she was captivated by her own thoughts. Not upset, not sad or angry, just pondering. But whatever thought she was so engrossed in, you didn’t know. 

Emily left before dinner and that quiet pondering continued throughout the evening. It was odd behavior for JJ, but honestly the silence between the two of you as you ate wasn’t all that negative. You were also busy mulling things over in your mind. The idea of approaching JJ with a few requests to try some new things was worrying you, but you knew it needed to be said. 

When dinner was over and you were cleaning up, you were even more lost in your own little world. The conversation you had with Emily from that afternoon was still going through your head. How were you going to talk to JJ about this without hurting her pride? Was that even possible at this point? If you were going to be totally honest about what you wanted then you’d have to tell her how long you’ve been faking things with her and that would surely not sit well with her. 

Part of you was also nervous to bring anything up and have it all blow up in the end. Would JJ even be willing to change things up with you or would it stay the same? If it stays the same, then what then? If the spark in the bedroom is going out, what does that mean for the spark in your relationship overall? There were just too many questions running through your mind.

The constant thought process of how to break the news to JJ and start the conversation was consuming all of your attention. Your hands and feet were on autopilot as you continued to clean up the kitchen. So, when JJ slowly snuck up to you with your back turned away from the kitchen entrance, you were totally unaware of her presence. That is until she was suddenly directly behind you, pushing the front of your body right up against the counter. 

“JJ, what the hell?!” Her sudden move had forced you to drop everything in your hands. Lucky for you, it was just some plastic tupperware and nothing sharp or breakable.

“Shhh,” JJ whispered in your ear. “Spread your legs.” JJ’s hands were on your waist as soon as she had you pinned. You were honestly so confused by this sudden turn of events that you didn’t register what JJ was asking of you. 

That must have been very apparent to JJ, because after a moment of you standing utterly still, she did it for you. Her legs went in between yours, kicking both your legs open until you were bracing even tighter onto the counter to keep yourself standing. JJ’s body pressed even harder into yours from behind and you suddenly realized you felt something very curious pressing into you from behind. 

“JJ, what are you-” You stopped when your mind finally connected what you were feeling as JJ started to grind her hips into your ass. You knew exactly what was going on now. 

JJ had you figured out. You weren’t sure how or when, but you knew that she knew. 

“Stop asking questions,” JJ bent forward to whisper in your ear. “And do what you’re told.”

“I-I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” you stammered as JJ kept pressing herself into the back of your body. “JJ, this is–”

“New?” She cut you off. “You wanted something new, didn’t you? That’s what I’m about to give you.”

Your body stiffened as JJ spoke. So, she did know. That little fear in the back of your head that told you JJ was home a lot earlier than you realized was right. The question was, how much did she hear? Did she know about you faking a few times or just that you wanted to change things up in the bedroom. God, you hoped she didn’t hear the part about you faking it…

“You didn’t answer me,” JJ’s voice came from behind you. “Am I wrong? You want a change, right?”

“I– Well, no you’re not wrong, but–” JJ’s lips pressing right at the pulse point of your neck before sinking her teeth down into the flesh there is what cut you off, even if you were already struggling to form a sentence. Your hands went to grip the counter at the burst of pleasurable pain that she just caused while you were mid-sentence.

“I’m going to give you something new, princess,” she practically purred against your skin. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want. You’re going to cum for me over and over again like a good girl, until I feel like you’ve had enough. And you definitely won’t need to fake them.” The low tone JJ’s voice took with her last words had you both shocked that she did in fact here and shiver at how almost threatening she sounded.

While you were preoccupied with this shift in her, JJ was already busy getting to work with her plan. You felt her hands reach around to your pants, giving them a hard yank before letting them fall in a puddle on the floor. You were already breathing harder than you probably should, your head twisting and turning to try and look back behind you at what JJ was up to. 

This new change in her had startled you and a large part of you was incredibly ashamed that she had heard you spill your guts to Emily. It should’ve been you directly telling her that you wanted something new, but unfortunately she heard everything she wasn’t meant to. Even so, there was another part of you that was absolutely way too excited for what was to come.

As for JJ, when she heard the little conversation between you and Emily, she did feel a little guilty that she was listening to something she wasn’t meant to. However, she wasn’t upset with any of what she heard, she was glad she did listen in even. Because, it wasn’t just you that felt like there needed to be a change. While JJ was definitely unaware of the past instances when you faked your orgasms, and that did sting a bit, she spent the rest of the evening plotting out a way to fix this. See, she had wanted to change things up for a while; let loose a little. She also was worried about ever being too rough with you, but sometimes she got into these moods where all she wanted to do was ruin you. When those moods came, she suppressed it and overcorrected. She knew now that she overcorrected way too much, but tonight it was time to lean into that mood. 

So, as JJ continued to put her plan into motion, she was getting a little ahead of herself with how much anticipation she had. When she heard the conversation, it was like a door had opened to so many new possibilities of what she could try with you. Once she settled on what to do first, she waited until you least expected for her to pounce.

Now here you were with JJ’s body keeping you trapped between her own and the kitchen counter, half naked from the waist down. “Stay there,” JJ ordered before taking a small step back. Surprisingly, you did as you were told without having to question it anymore. JJ admired you for a second; loving the way you looked bent over the counter, bare ass sticking out for her. She gave it a smack and you jumped, but didn’t complain. 

From behind you, you could hear JJ slowly pull the zipper to her jeans down. You knew exactly what was coming next and you bit your lip in anticipation. It was almost embarrassing how wet you were, just from a little bit of roughness from JJ. But then again, she was never rough with you like this. It was this exact behavior that you wanted so badly to see from her. 

JJ stepped back up to you, her hands reaching between the two of you to cup your ass. You let out the smallest gasp when she squeezed, already more excited than you’d been in weeks. From behind you, you could hear JJ let out a small, smug chuckle in response before sliding two of her fingers through your folds. This time, the gasp wasn’t as quiet. 

She ran her fingers through you a couple times, gathering your wetness onto them and causing you to shift and squirm even more. You wanted more of her touch, but as quickly as she started, she pulled her fingers away.

With her fingers coated in you, she reached down to her little surprise she had waiting for you. Little was a bit of an understatement, she thought as she ran your wetness over the dildo she had attached between her legs. It was going to be an interesting sight to see you take it. You two had used toys before, but not like this. Not something that, JJ knew for a fact, was bigger than anything you’ve taken. She was excited to see how good you could be for her. In the past she treated you so carefully, but tonight she was determined to fuck you to the brink of breaking. 

“Do me a favor,” JJ leaned her body against yours from behind. You felt what you already knew was a quite large strap on, poking between your thighs. “Be a good girl tonight and take what I give you.” 

You nodded your head fervently, biting your lip harder when one of JJ’s hands moved around your body to slip under your shirt and paw at your chest. JJ took a moment, kissing on the back of your neck and running one hand over the top of your body, while the other squeezed at your thighs. She loved the way you were already wriggling in anticipation for what she had in store and just wanted to savor this moment before she really dug in. 

Your chest was heaving already and your head was bent down as you made cute little sounds JJ loved to hear. Your hands were splayed on the counter, trying to keep yourself upright while JJ practically groped your entire body. The way you were already struggling to keep it together had JJ just that much more excited to see you utterly fall apart. So she got started.

One hand left your body while the other moved down to steady your hips. The hand that wasn’t on you, moved between her own legs. She wrapped her hand around the toy, running over it once more to make sure it still felt lubricated enough from your own wetness. Once she deemed it ready, she lined up. 

You held your breath, trying your best to brace yourself on the counter as you felt JJ’s faux cock start to line up with your entrance. This thing was big, you didn’t need to see it to know it wasn’t something you were used to. There was still an exciting anticipation coursing through your veins, but you also anxiously hoped that JJ would go a little easy on you. Just for a few minutes, at least. 

JJ’s hips started to push forward and you immediately felt the tip of the toy begin to stretch your walls. Your eyes squeezed tight as she slowly pushed her cock all the way inside of you until she had bottomed out. 

Your head dipped even lower, your mouth hanging open again as you tried to adjust to this new feeling. It was painful, you couldn’t deny that. Your pussy was stretched more than you’ve ever felt. But still, you needed JJ to move her hips, to do something. You tried your best to push your hips back into JJ to meet hers more closely, if that was even possible. She immediately got the hint.

Pulling out slowly and almost completely, JJ paused. “You’re not going to fake these,” JJ’s voice was practically a growl. “Got it?” And with that she slammed the toy back into you with such strength that the guttural moan you let out shocked the both of you. 

JJ’s hands were back on your hips now as she pulled out and mirrored that exact same action. You were trying as best as you could to keep some sort of restraint as she fucked you from behind, but it was a losing game when the pleasurable burn of her stretching you out had your head swimming. Meanwhile, JJ was setting a steady pace. Not too fast, but with each pump of her cock inside you, she put a little more strength into it.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” JJ groaned as she kept moving. You felt her nails dig into your bare hips as she went. It was like she was trying to restrain herself, to keep her own pace consistent, when you thought that, potentially, she wanted to go faster, maybe even be a little rougher.

And that was exactly it, but JJ needed you to ease into this at least a little bit first. She was testing the waters with you, seeing how much she could push it. While she wasn’t necessarily being gentle, she was still trying to have some sense of control. Only, that was slipping so fast with the sounds you were making and the way she could just hear how wet you were. 

It was sounds like these that she hadn’t heard in a while and didn’t realize she missed so much. So when her pace increased and you couldn’t help but to whine and cry out her name as she fucked you, her control slipped even further. 

She could tell you were close too. The way she had your pussy stretched out mixed with how rough she was being had you approaching that edge finally. This time, it would all be completely real and as your legs began to tremble, JJ increased her pace and encouraged you to cum.

When you finally did, she slowed for a second. The both of you needed to catch your breath; you from the powerful orgasm and her so that she could prepare for what was to come. The pathetic little moan you let out when you did cum had broken something loose in JJ’s brain, something that she had really tried to hold back with you, but now she wasn’t going to. So she’d let you catch your breath, take a moment to appreciate the way you looked right now, and then continue.

JJ’s hands rubbed at your back for a second. “That’s my girl,” she cooed, leaning back to get a better look at you. She was still inside you, but you were slumped a little further onto the counter, cum dripping down your thighs as you came down from your high. “We’re not done though.” 

And with that she set a new pace that had you scrambling for purchase on the counter again. The way she was fucking you, it was like she was trying to fuck up into you until you were completely sprawled out on the counter. Your body had gotten used to the stretch, but your pussy definitely wasn’t used to this kind of brutal treatment. Your legs were shaking harder than they were when she made you cum the first time and you were seriously questioning your balance at this point.

It didn’t seem to bother JJ though, if she was aware of it that is. All she was focused on was the satisfying slap of her skin against your ass as she fucked you so hard you swore you saw stars. 

“J- fuck— JJ I don’t think…” you couldn’t get the words out no matter how hard you were trying. The relentless way JJ kept pounding her cock into you was making it impossible for you to do just about anything other than moan. “I don’t think I can keep standing.” 

You felt JJ’s hands flex, as her grip on you grew tighter. She didn’t stop, despite your warning, she didn’t even slow down. Her hips kept pumping into you from behind, each time pushing you painfully harder into the counter. Your head was hunched down, your hands were struggling to grip at anything on the counter. Pretty soon you’d be slipping until you were face down on the countertop if JJ kept this up. 

“I don’t fucking care,” JJ growled. With those words, it was like she knew exactly what your worry was and she made it happen. Without warning, one hand that was on your waist moved to the top of your head, pushing your head down til your cheek was pressed against the cold countertop. This new position forced you to jut your ass out even more, giving JJ an even better angle to fuck her cock into you deeper. 

Her hand remained on the top of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. Tears pricked in your eyes at the brutal way she was fucking your pussy. Your body was practically quaking underneath her and you could feel another orgasm coming in strong. 

As rough as she was being, you were enjoying every minute of it. JJ was practically manhandling you, using you as nothing more than her toy to fuck, but you didn’t even mind. It’s what you wanted all along and you didn’t even know it. 

JJ pulled your hair to jerk your head up. As she did, her hips still flush with your ass as she pushed her cock into you, she lent forward on top of you. “You love this, don’t you?” JJ taunted as your walls tightened around her cock. “Letting me fuck you right here on the counter like a little whore. You fucking love it.” 

You had never heard her talk this way and your eyes squeezed shut as your next orgasm started to rip throughout your body. 

“Say it.” JJ tugged on your hair. “Say you love it.” 

“I- I-“ you couldn’t form words when you were falling over the edge on JJ’s cock again. “I love… god- I fucking love it. Fuck, JJ just keep— keep fucking me.” 

JJ let out a triumphant chuckle before releasing your hair and wrapping her hand back around your waist. With her hold on you, she moved your own body onto her cock while she kept pumping it into you. The continued abuse of your pussy, mixed with the sheer strength of JJ’s movements had you coming a third time before you even knew it. You hadn’t even come down from your second orgasm before she had you moaning and screaming her name into a third one. 

What definitely shocked you was the way JJ kept going even after that. It was like there was no end to the strength and stamina she possessed. She didn’t slow, not even after she had pushed you to a third orgasm without a pause. No, she was determined for a fourth.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, you were suddenly too aware of your nerve-endings and as she kept fucking you, the harsh way she was treating your pussy as she pumped her cock into you with abandon was starting to hurt. Yet, it all still felt incredible. The pain of your body being pushed to the brink mixed with the pleasure she was giving you was better than the last three orgasms she coaxed out of you combined. 

“God, why didn’t I do this sooner?” JJ grunted as she kept up her pace. “I was hoping you’d be able to take it if I let go a little, but this… You’re just taking me so fucking good.”

You couldn’t even speak at this point, all you could do was let out a gurgled hum of some sort of agreement as JJ’s grip tightened that much more on you so she could keep up with what she was doing. At this point, you were fairly certain that there were marks where her nails were digging into you, but that little bit of pain added to it that much more. Tears were definitely staining your cheeks from the sheer intensity of it all too. You were sure, if you looked at yourself in the mirror, you’d be shocked by what you saw. 

The fact that you could cum again so quickly and for the fourth time in such a short period was shocking you, but when you came again for her, you came with a silent cry as your body shuddered around her cock. 

This time, you couldn’t keep yourself upright, fully slumping onto the counter. JJ finally slowed down, her hands coming up to keep you upright and prevent you from landing on your ass.

After a moment of being still, but remaining inside you, she finally pulled out and your body shook for a second at the loss. You still hadn’t caught your breath, but JJ was patient, running her hand over your back and cooing at you as you gulped down much needed air. 

When your chest stopped heaving and your body trembled a little bit less, JJ turned you in her arms. Still, she had a tight hold on you to prevent you from slumping all the way down and onto the kitchen floor and you were appreciative of the support. 

“Hi,” JJ murmured as her arms squeezed you into her chest. 

“H-hi,” you panted, burying your head into the crook of her neck. 

“Was that too much?” JJ’s voice was soft and hesitant. You still weren’t quite recovered enough to form coherent sentences so you just shook your head as best you could while still pressed into JJ. 

“Good,” she mumbled before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Was that… more like what you wanted?”

You willed yourself to look up at her this time, knowing this required a proper response. “Yes, but JJ I’m sorry. I should’ve told you first.”

“It’s okay, my love,” JJ smiled down at you. “I understand. I’m sorry things got a little… monotonous. I’ve wanted to try something a little new with you for a while, I just didn’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s not your fault.” You leaned up to kiss JJ’s lips softly this time. “But I’m not as fragile as you think. You won’t break me, so… can we do this again?”

“Oh, definitely,” JJ gave you a cheeky grin. “In about ten minutes actually.”

“What?!” Your eyes went comically wide as JJ started to practically push you towards the bedroom. 

“There’s more I want to try.” 

You gulped, but willingly let her lead you to the bedroom. That night you both learned the limits your body could go to and over the next few weeks you were introduced to more experiences you hadn’t even realized you were into until JJ presented them to you. It was like a whole new side to your relationship had opened up and it definitely fixed the rut. 

Taglist: @storiesofsvu @demonicbaby666 @geekyandgay98 @desperate-gay @high--power @finleyfray @natashamaximoff69 Join the taglist here

[claraswritings]

heyy as a blurb for the Can I Be The One fic- how about a jealous Carmy? Like he knows she picked him but he can’t help but be a littttle bit possessive?? And she actually likes it 🫣

Hey thank you for your nice comment!!

Some SMUT BTC

If you have any other blurb ideas for my Can I Be The One universe let me know :)

Carmy could hear the person next to him at the bar try speak to him but he wasn’t really listening.. he was too focused on you.

You were talking to a guy. A guy who was easily 6’5”, broad shouldered, with a well tailored suit and slicked back red hair. A guy who was animatedly talking to you whilst you nodded politely.

You always were friendly to everyone but he couldn’t help the jealously in the pit of his stomach. Did you think this guy was hot?

‘She picked you. She loves you. She’s still with you even though you’re fucking crazy’ he tries to tell himself but as he sees you laugh politely at something the guy has said. He can’t help it.

‘Well the past three months have been too good to be true’ he told himself, his eyes not shifting off you.

And then like you always do, like you always have, you tapped into that weird ability you have to sense when he needs you and glanced across the room for him, waving him over when your eyes locked.

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

****

“Carmy, this is Tom. He’s my brothers University friend, he’s from London and he’s a personal trainer for a rugby club”

Carmy rather stiltedly held out his hand and offered a handshake to Tom, who reciprocated.

“Tom, this is Carmy. My boyfriend.” Another person wouldn’t notice the oh so subtly emphasis on the word but Carmy did. “He’s from Chicago and he’s head chef at his own restaurant, aren’t you babe”

You were smiling at him, looking at him so happily but all Carmy could focus on was how this Tom was staring at you.

“Oh interesting.” Tom said as if he thought it was anything but. “Is it as good as Baccchanalia? The beef carpaccio was spectacular there”

“Yes.” You enthused “Carmy has worked in several Michelin star restaurants, he’s won awards, he cooks the best food I’ve ever had. I’m very proud of him”

Tom nodded “Well good for you mate.” He said before turning back to you “Say…there’s this new place in Kesington, my sister does their marketing and can get us a table for two tomorrow if you fancy it. Me and you of course”

Carmy felt his jaw clench and subconsciously he wrapped his arm around your waist. And as if you could sense his tension, you touched his hand in the spot it rested.

“Oh no thank you, Carmen and I are going to the museums, aren’t we babe?” You said politely.

“Next day then?”

“No…I’m good” you said

“Or we can catch up when your friend is back in Chicago?” Tom suggested, placing his hand on your arm, a gesture that made Carmy want to punch this asshole in his perfect jaw.

That was enough.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend.” Carmy took a step closer to Tom, folding his arms to flex his toned biceps. Tom was easily taller, but at this point Carmy would have liked his odds if he did have to lay this guy out

Tom looked a little surprised but didn’t move away from you “Relax, mate, we’re only talking aren’t we? Just an old friend hoping for a catch up…”

“You fuckin’ stupid? She said no thank you.” Carmy pushed Tom off you with a shove.

The other man looked like he was weighing up his options. He opened his mouth to speak but Carmy wouldn’t give him the chance.

“Go on, get the fuck outta here, she’s mine, fucking asshole”

“We should be going.” You added “Goodnight…” you linked your fingers with Carmy’s and led him out of the hall and into the corridor without a further word.

‘Shit you’ve fucked it by being a jealous weirdo. Fucking idiot’

He hoped this wasn’t going to be a fight. You hadn’t really fought, and he wondered if it would even come to that or if you’d just break up with him for making a scene.

Fucking apologize, idiot

“M’sorry about that. I meant you were mine like you’re my girlfriend not like my property or anything weird” he said as you reached the elevators.

“I know” you smiled at him and squeezed his hand as you pressed the call button “I appreciated you standing up for me. It was hot.”

Carmy turned to you a little surprised. “What?”

“It was a kinda sexy. Knowing you’d fight for me…” you said tone low as the doors opened and you both stepped in.

You’d pressed the button for your floor but the lift had barely started moving again before Carmy had hit the emergency stop.

His lips were on yours in a second, tongue slipping into your mouth, teeth biting and pulling on your lip as he pressed you up against the wall.

You let out a surprised throaty sound but responded in turn, hooking your leg around him, using the handrail to support you as your other hand made its way into his hair, pulling lightly as he left red marks on your neck.

Carmy could have sworn he heard the radio telling you, ‘We will have the lift up and running again in five minutes’ but he elected to ignore it, instead sliding a hand up your thigh and under your little black dress to your underwear. As soon as he grazed against the fabric, he could feel you wet and ready for him.

“Fuck you weren’t joking baby”

He touched you through the material putting just enough pressure on that you could almost feel him, as he started kissing you again.

“Stop messing with me, babe,” you muttered into his mouth.

“Okay okay” Carmy muttered “you really are my girl aren’t you” he said, pulling back to look at you”

“You know I am” you said voice low.

Carmy deftly moved the material to one side, stroking your sweet spot with his thumb, eliciting a moan out of you that went straight to him like fire.

“Like that babe” your head thrown back against the wall as he inserted a finger and then another, moving slowly in and out, as his thumb circled over again and again. He moved back a little to watch, savouring seeing you like this, knowing it was all for him, only for him.

“Carmy…” you pulled his hair a little giving him about open mouth, messy kiss, before dropping your head to suck on his neck in a way he knew would leave a mark.

He could feel you tightening around him, drawing close, and spurred on by the down right dirty sounds he was drawing from you, he picked up the pace, going faster and faster until you tensed up, biting lightly on his shoulder as your finish hit you.

You were only catching your breath, his hand still under your dress when you felt the clink and the elevator begin its rise again

“Okay, folks, that should be you moving again.” The crackled voice came from the speaker.

You didn’t say anything until you reached your floor, eyes too busy scanning the lift for CCTV, you didn’t know if you wanted there to be or not.

“Come on,” you kissed him as the doors opened. “Take me to our room and show me I’m your girl”

And for the second time tonight but with a lot more reassurance than the first time, Carmy didn’t have to be asked twice.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Alright hear me out.. Jonggun x a big deal member reader.. 🫣 like, both of us hating each other to guts, but somehow an odd feeling causes us to desire to spend time with each other etc while not even knowing the reason, and once gun feels close enough to us to inform us about his Yakuza clan and his whole shiro oni side, it turns out we were actually gun's childhood friend back then 🤭

Anon. You'll be the death of me. Apologies for the delayed response as usual! I started this today with a small idea. Came back to it tonight and 2k words later, it's now nearly 2am. I... I think I really like this. Let's sleep on it anyway. Hope it hits the spot and thanks for requesting!

Gun Park x Big Deal!Reader: Yamazaki Yuzuru

G/N. Enemies to lovers. (...Childhood friends turned enemies to lovers).

Cynics would say you sold your body in a different way, although you hate to think about it like that. You suppose that it may seem so for someone on the outside looking in.

Big Deal is famous for its passion, its romance. You never thought it applied to you. Not like it did to others.

.

.

The first time you meet on Big Deal street, Gun studies you. Gaze hidden under his sunglasses, curiosity piqued as he wonders who you are.

A sea of gangsters but your face sticks out like a sore thumb. Familiar. Like a distant memory just out of reach, like trying to recall a dream.

Notices your scar-littered knuckles faded silver with time. Hardly unusual for gang members yet Gun still peers down at his own hands.

They're similar. Almost matching. A pair.

Ever watchful eyes burn into the side of your head.

When you turn in his direction, you know for certain he is only looking at you.

Age old scars start to itch. Absentmindedly, you scratch at your hands.

.

.

Gun asks for your name during your second meeting.

"Who are you?"

Jake Kim frowns, searches your face for a reason why he would be asking you. Why he would be taking an interest.

You give your boss an imperceptible shrug.

"None of your business," is all you offer. Clipped. Brusque. Not wanting to cause any more trouble for Big Deal by outright ignoring him.

What you mean to spit is fuck you.

What you mean to scream is I want to kill you with my bare hands.

You don't look at him today.

"Oh, this one is feisty," Goo Kim steps forward, duffle bag of cash in hand and eyes roving over you with approval.

Trouble still finds you.

Jaw clenching, hands scrunching into fists; Jake ready to defend his crew-

Gun beats him to the punch.

"Let's go. The money is all there."

His blonde associate throws him an odd look. Nevertheless, they still leave. You're not sure if you've ever seen anything better than their retreating backs.

Big Deal survives for another day.

.

.

Your luck runs out on your third meeting.

Gun finds you when you're miles from Big Deal and alone. When the rain drenches the earth and the air suffocates. When instead of water bringing life, it brings an omen.

This time you have no choice but to look at him, glaring into his pitch-black eyes. Fear eclipsed by loathing as he holds his umbrella over you, downpour providing a shroud and shielding the two of you from the world.

A strange game of silence starts, neither of you wanting to speak first.

Minutes tick by. The feeling of hatred is tiring to keep up. Holding onto the anger at the surface drains you. Infinitesimally your gaze starts to soften until Gun's curiosity is mirrored in yours.

To your surprise, he cracks first.

He tells you he recognises the vitriol in your voice from last time, no matter how much you thought you had successfully veiled it.

(A tiny smirk, almost fond, graces his features as he is reminded of your animosity.)

Offers you a chance, an escape line, a tantalising small glimmer of hope for Big Deal to leave the four crews.

Taking a drag on his cigarette, he proposes, "You can have your freedom if you can kill me."

Oh?

The odds are not in your favour. You agree anyway.

.

.

You manage to land a hit on his left arm, even as he turns and deflects most of the damage with a roll of his shoulder.

Had it been successful, it would have left it limp and hanging. Unfortunately, Gun only seem inconvenienced at best.

Your next attack manages to break the skin on his cheek. You miss your mark, wanting to gouge out his eyes instead.

Still, seeing the trickle of blood pleases you.

Gun Park takes no prisoners. Aims to incapacitate at the best of times, if not to maim or kill.

The thrill and adrenaline surges once he notices the cut. Feels the blood rushing to the surface and it already swelling.

He lunges after you, launching an open hand strike straight for your chest.

Throwing up both arms just in time, you manage to negate most of the intensity of his hit. Even still, you are flung to the other side of the street and hard into the ground.

Death would have been on the cards if not for your quick thinking.

When Gun sees the crimson falling from your lips, you spluttering and winded, choking on your own blood and body barely able to move-

All he can think about is how intriguing it is that you are still breathing. How peculiar that you managed to defend yourself, like you had foreseen his move. How mesmerising that particular shade of red.

Gun doesn't kill you today.

He tells you you have failed and leaves you to wallow in your own humiliation. You watch his figure growing smaller into the distance and find no joy in this retreat.

Blood and sweat mingles with the rain, cold seeps into your bones. When you think all hope is lost-

You catch a glimpse of maroon beneath your nails. Even as your body lies broken and beaten, you think of how you have managed to spill droplets of Gun Park's own blood.

It's a pleasant thought.

.

.

The fourth time he asks again for your name.

You wonder how he manages to find you once more during heavy showers.

As if he is only able to venture out during storms, like a worm awakened with the pitter patter of raindrops and slithering out of wet soil.

Fitting.

Amused both at this and the audacity of his question, you chuckle at his tenacity. The action causes you to wince. Body still recovering, a result of your fight from last time.

Gun takes a step forward and you flinch away immediately. Worsening your injury, grimacing and groaning as black spots appear in your vision.

"Stop," he orders and you are tempted to do it again just to defy him. "I'm not in the habit of repeating myself. I'll ask you for the final time, what is your name?"

In no fit state to fight, loss inevitable even if you were, you finally give it up.

You tell him through gritted teeth and a seed is planted in his mind.

"And you know mine."

"Gun Park."

He loves the fury in your voice. He wants to hear you say it again.

.

.

Gun slams you into a wall during the fifth time. Pins your arms above your head as you thrash against his hold.

Desperately trying to regain your footing, regain your strength as he has once again bested you.

He leans into your ear, voice taunting and infuriating. "Y/N." Relishes the way your name sounds, "You've failed again."

You whip your head around, ready to do something, anything. Bile in your throat and venom on the tip of your tongue-

His face is centimetres away from yours, breath hot and your skin prickles.

Own breath hitching as he drops his eyes to your lips. Desire and hunger plain on his face.

He doesn't lean forward and you wish he did.

He lets you go and you wish he didn't.

You hate yourself for it.

.

.

Sleep becomes difficult. You lie awake at night and think about him. Replay the scene in your head.

Your self hatred builds.

.

.

Thoughts of what-ifs tiptoe through your mind during the day. Conjures up scenarios of what if Gun Park actually did brush his lips against yours.

You hate yourself more than you hate him.

.

.

Like a self fulfilling prophecy, it happens during the sixth meeting.

All fight dissipates from you as your traitorous mind wanders and strays.

Gun Park catches your fist. He doesn't shove you away. Sees your pupils blown huge with lust and slams your body into his instead.

Your lips crash together, all teeth and snarls. It is both everything and nothing like you had imagined.

The umbrella lies forgotten on the ground as he rams you up against a wall in a forgotten alleyway.

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes into you.

.

.

Meetings end in a stalemate.

.

.

Meetings end in more sordid alleyways. A quick and dirty sprint to the finish line.

.

.

In backseats, cramped and rushed and hot. Leather sticking to sweat slick skin, windows fogging up with steam.

.

.

In hotel rooms and tangled sheets.

.

.

In walks of shame at 3am.

.

.

In showers, exploring each other's bodies.

.

.

In baths with your back against his chest.

.

.

In his bed and waking up together in the morning.

.

.

You don't act differently when Gun Park and Goo Kim come to collect their dues.

But the bruises left by his fingers under your Big Deal uniform pulses and throbs.

You still hate yourself but you hate Gun less.

Seeing him reminds you of the way he moans your name. The additional scars you've scratched into his back. The way his hips rock against yours.

(When it's just you two, you can't bring yourself to hate him at all.)

You stay still and silent as Goo counts the bills.

Under his sunglasses, Gun always observes you.

.

.

"Where did you get these scars?"

Gun traces over your knuckles. Touch gentle and tentative. A far cry from your first contact.

Truthfully you can hardly even remember. It was another life. In the land of the rising sun, when you saw the world through childhood innocence.

You piece together what you can.

"I used to spar when I was younger. With another boy that was on my street..."

Eyes affecting a far off look, reliving what you can of your memory.

Snapshots of a small stature, below average for his age but lightning fast reflexes and a terrifying strength.

You were never a match for him. Not really. But he still insisted on seeing you everyday.

Training together. Developing a language of your own through punches and kicks.

Above all, you fought. But that small quiet boy, who talked infrequently, whose bite was just as bad as his bark gave you the first taste of something real.

"You lost more than you won." Gun's voice cuts through. You thought they were teasing words but- "Cried when he beat you and he would bribe you to shut up. Spent three summers together getting stronger until he had to leave."

Gun holds his own scarred hand up.

You remember the scar the boy got when you kicked him into the ground, how you bandaged it afterwards. Unravelling as soon as you wrapped it, handiwork sloppy and inexperienced.

The scars when you both would practice your punches, strengthening tendons wherever you could. On whatever surfaces available.

And one scar in particular: when you bit down hard on his hand after a particularly gruelling fight and refused to give him the victory.

How have you missed this? How has the string of fate managed to stretch across land and oceans and borders and years?

The fog lifts and the name slams into your mind.

"Yuzuru."

Gun kisses you, hand cupping the back of your head and other curling around your waist. Whispers your own name against your lips. The one you were born with. The one he used to call you.

A name you haven't heard in years, but he never forgot.

"Say my name again." His voice is rough, choked.

"Yamazaki Yuzuru."

He kisses you more fiercely than ever before.

The first meeting wasn’t on Big Deal street. It wasn't even in South Korea.

.

.

You didn't sell your body.

The Big Deal passion and romance flares within you. It just always belonged to someone else.

[f0point5]

The new fic was wonderful, I cant get enough of Em and Max I hope you never stop writing about them! That being said, I'm curious, would you write about one (or all four!) Times Max had to run around a city looking for Emelia?

Okay I’m sorry about how this turned out 🫣 I know in the fic it referenced that Max didn’t know there was a problem and only found out once she left but I am taking some artistic license with this being one of the four times! Don’t hate me 🫠

I did actually start a different one featuring Emilia’s dad so I may finish that one and we will get a funnier/more on brand instance of Emilia running away but…I hope you enjoy this one in the meantime!

✨Set in September 2021✨

They nicknamed her “The Bolter”

Max watches the sunrise in total, deafening silence. He thinks at some point he gets up to feed the cats. He thinks, but he isn’t sure. He’s so tired. His eyes are watering. It’s not tears. He can’t sleep. He wants to. He doesn’t want to. It doesn’t matter if he wants to, he can’t. He can’t sleep knowing you’re not home. He can’t sleep not knowing you’re safe.

He looks at his phone again. He has it on loud and on vibrate but he still checks. Still hopes.

Daniel: Did you hear from her?

Lando: She’s not answering me sorry

Clara Albizzi: You fucked up

That last one makes me feel sick. He did fuck up. He knew the second he’d said it. The way your face just fell and you couldn’t look at him. The way your shoulders hunched over.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

You hadn’t even packed a bag. Hadn’t even taken keys for a car. You’d just picked up the shoes that were lying in the hallway and left.

And he’d let you.

It had taken everything in him to stand still and let you leave, even as the fear set in. Fear that smelled like freshly cut grass and petrol. Fear that felt like crisp night air. Fear that looked like headlights in the dark.

The restraint had only last a few minutes.

You had blocked him, of course. So he’d called your friends. He’d ended up calling half of Monaco including more drivers than he ever spoke to regularly. Everyone denied hearing from you. He’d actually driven to Daniel’s to confirm his story that he wasn’t home. Max wondered more than once if you’d earned more loyalty from his colleagues than he had. Even if one of them was lying to him, at least you were safe.

But he couldn’t take the chance that you really hadn’t ended up at someone’s place. You didn’t have you bag with you, or even comfortable shoes. You couldn’t pay for a cab. It was that thought that had sent him to the Hotel de Paris. It was your favourite hotel in town, you even checked in for staycations sometimes. They would have your information, so you wouldn’t even need a credit card. The receptionist had refused to tell him if you were staying there - illegal, apparently - but something about his appearance must have incurred her sympathy, because she’d said that they hadn’t had any unexpected guests.

That had sent him to Sass Café. A long shot, because you didn’t usually self medicate alone, but he’d tried anyway. Fifty times he thought he’d seen you across the room as he’d weaved his way through the hoards of people. Normally he could spot you anywhere but when all he wanted was to see you he’d seen you everywhere.

By the time he’d got home, some time in the wee hours, Max could feel himself starting to shut down. As he’d called your name to no response and checked your room to find it empty, he could feel himself starting to get cold. He’d sat down on the couch, intending to think about what he was going to do next, but the thoughts had started to get away from him. The memories of the last twelve hours began to fold in on themselves, becoming smaller and squarer and so too did the feelings. The anger, the frustration, the panic, the disappointment, it all got more manageable, packing itself away in the corner in his mind that Max had so often found himself hiding in.

Even the fear had gone. The fear had gone somewhere around 5.30 am, when the darkness started to wane. As he sat on the couch and watched the sky go from black to blue to the colour of the dress you wore to Luka’s christening, his leg stopped shaking, his fists unclenched, and the tightness in his chest disappeared.

Finally, emotions had given way to a familiar and encompassing emptiness. Max just felt numb.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

What had he even been so angry about? He could almost laugh at himself. He hadn’t been angry. He’d been embarrassed. You’d told him you’d found underwear that wasn’t yours in the washing machine and he’d been so fucking embarrassed. And then he’d thought, what did he have to embarrassed about, and he decided in a split second it must be because you were judging him, and who were you to judge him when you were the reason he was fucking random girls in the first place. His relationship had ended because of you.

You’re the reason she’s not here!

Except you weren’t the reason. Not really. It had been Max’s choice and he knew that. Max needed you more than he’d wanted her and he had never once regretted that choice, although wherever you were, you probably thought he did.

He almost wishes he could feel all of it. Whatever it is that’s been forced under the surface because he can’t deal with it. He can’t feel anything. His eyes are sore and unfocused and they sting.

He drags a hand over his face. He should do something. Get flowers, or call the police, or…anything. But he doesn’t. His limbs don’t move. He just sits there…like he’s waiting for someone to pick him up.

You’ve got to come back.

Don’t worry, Max. They always come back. You’ll apologise. You’ll do better next time.

His eyes water again. This time it might be tears.

Somewhere behind him, one of the cats meows. Maybe he didn’t feed them after all.

“Max?”

At the sound of your voice, Max’s head turns so fast his neck hurts. He blinks furiously at the sight of you. For a second he thinks he’s imagining you.

“I brought strudel,” you say, holding up a small folded pastry box.

Max gets up before his he tells himself to. He wants to pull you into his arms, the urge to do it is the only thing he’s felt in hours, but stays still. You’re back, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he says. His voice sounds hoarse.

“Not everywhere, clearly,” you say with a shrug.

“I went to Sass, Daniel’s, I called Lando, Alex, Clara, Zita,” he says, as if trying to prove that he’d tried. “I went to the hotel to see if you were there. I’ve been around the whole city all night, I didn’t sleep,”

“Oh.”

You look a little sheepish, almost guilty, as you make your way to the kitchen. Max follows, too far behind for his liking but he’s still too scared to get closer.

He sits on one side of the island and you stand on the other. He really takes in your appearance now. Hair up, no make up. Wearing a pyjama shirt. Where the fuck did you get pyjamas? He doesn’t care. His eyes run over you one more time. He might never let you out of his sight again.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Max admonishes, though there is no strength behind his words.

“Don’t piss me off like that,” you retort, and there’s strength behind yours.

The look you give him cuts like second place, and he looks away. He looks out to the balcony. The sky is cobalt now. What time is it?

“Did you mean it?” You whisper into the silence.

Max looks at you now. “No.”

“But-“

“No.” This time it’s an oath.

You shake your head as you open the pastry box. “Max, you obviously kind of meant it,” you say, turning to pick up two plates from the counter. “And I don’t blame you. I know I’m the reason you and-“

“You’re not the reason,” Max insists. “She’s the reason. She thought…she made that choice. And yeah, a part of me is still angry about it, and I cannot talk to her so I took it out on you. That wasn’t right and I’m sorry. I don’t know why I even- I’m sorry. It was my fault,”

Take responsibility. It’s your fault. You caused this to happen. If you don’t like the outcome then stop making people angry.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, quieter this time. Even to his own ear it sounds a little more desperate.

You stare at him, eyes narrow, like you’re trying to read him, and Max almost flinches under the scrutiny. Finally, your face softens, and you sigh. Something in your posture eases.

“Max, it’s okay,” you say gently. “People fight. I just felt like shit and you know how I get. You’re fight, I’m flight, remember? I was…anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re okay, right?”

“Yeah,” Max says. “Of course.”

You don’t look like you believe him, but he’s telling the truth. If you’re okay, then he’s okay. If you’re there, then he’s okay. If you’re home then that’s where he wants to be.

You shuffle around the island with two plates of strudel, padding on bare feet towards the living room with Max in hot pursuit.

“Where did you go?” He asks, now noticing that not even your shorts are the ones you left in last night.

“The Maybourne,” you explain, settling on the corner of the couch, legs outstretched. “The concierge gave me some spa pjs,”

Max takes a seat next to you, further than normal but closer than he’s been to you in what feels like forever.

“I’ll pay you back for the room,” he says with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, I think you will,” you say haughtily, and Max forced himself to laugh. There must be something in his expression that tips you off, though, because your face falls. “I’m sorry I left,”

Please don’t ever do that again.

The words are on the tip of his tongue but he swallows them. He doesn’t ask. He can’t. He has no right to ask you that, because no one can ever promise not to leave and he can’t promise to be worth staying for.

“It’s not the first time,” Max says with a chuckle, nudging you with his elbow. “I’m used to it by now,”

You roll your eyes and turn on the tv, flipping through to find the Moto GP race as Max yawns. The buzz he felt at your return is wearing off and the exhaustion is creeping up on him. He doesn’t want to sleep yet, though. Not when you’re still in his periphery. It’s stupid, but some part of him needs to be consciously in your presence for a while.

“Max, you can go to bed, if you want. I know you didn’t sleep,”

“No,” he says, a bit too quickly. He imagines that he blushes when you notice. His cheeks certainly burn. “I’m just….I’m fine here.”

You reach over to pick up a pillow and lay it on your lap. “At least lie down,” you say, patting the pillow like you do to get one of the cats to sit on you. Max hesitates, but only for a moment, because he’d do just about anything you told him right now.

He settles his head on the pillow, eyes fixed on the tv. He used to do this with his mum, he remembers. The first night joke after being with his dad for months, she’d put on a movie and Max would lay his head in her lap while they watched. He doesn’t think he’s ever told you that.

Your hand running through his hair is like a little jolt of energy, somewhere above him he hears you giggle at the shiver that goes through him. You don’t stop, though, finger massaging his scalp. It quiets all of his nerve endings.

“You need a haircut,” you tell him. He knows what you’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to care. As long as it’s you doing it.

“Yeah,” Max agrees. It’s the last thing he says before he finally falls asleep.

[anomalyaly]

Hi, hellooo dear, I hope you're well! 🥰♡︎

I was your secret Valentine this year!! ♥️ Hope you enjoyed answering my asks, I'm not quite the pro in these kinds of stuff 🫣

We haven't interacted much before, so it was really nice to read your answers, I loved learning a bit more about you and Elsie, both of you are so lovely! 🥰 I hope we can interact more in the future <3

I absolutely loved it, but unfortunately we've come to the end of the event, therefore I made you a smol gift ❥︎ hope you like it 🫣♡

Now I just wanna tell you that you're such an AMAZING writer and your screenshots are absolutely STUNNING, I'm really looking forward to when I can finally read your fic, Elsie is such a lovely character! 🥰 Hope you have a great day/night! ♥️

— with much much love, Lucy ~ 🪿✨

HELLO LUCY aka SECRET VALENTINE!

Your questions were wonderful! I love any chance to yap about my characters! I loved the ones that made me think about topics I hadn't put as much thought into before.

Also AWWWWW thank you so much for reading my writing and for drawing Elsie! That was such a thoughtful gift and you're a talented artist! I LOVE IT SO MUCH!

I hope you enjoy/enjoyed your break to, and make sure to take all the time you need to care for yourself. Thank you again for all of your wonderful questions, and I hope you have a great day as well!

-Aly

[enemiestolovershoe]

I just found your blog now and holy crap am I glad I did !!! Your JJ fics are seriously so AMAZING 🤩.

Could I pls request JJ x fem where she convinces her parents to let her boyfriend come with them on their annual lake house vacation, Her mom is a sweetie pie and instantly gives approval but her dad very reluctantly agrees hoping their relationship is a just a brief summer love fling because God forbid her daughter is in love with a pogue. He tries to break them up one night and she’s (reader) is not having it all… Angsty with some smut cause it’s JJ 😜 happy ending perhaps with him proposing to her as a nice touch🩵.

Somewhat inspired by the movie “Endless Love”

Tysm hope it’s not too long/confusing explanation 🫣.

Summer Heat

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: The request explains it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: some fighting between y/n and her dad.

A/N: I haven’t seen Endless Love but I read a few summaries and tried to capture what you were looking for. I didn’t include any smut bc I wasn’t in the mood to write it that day. I’m sorry about that, but I still hope you enjoy it! :)

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of your bedroom as you packed the last of your bags for the annual lake house vacation. You were practically buzzing with excitement, knowing that this year was different. For the first time, JJ Maybank—your boyfriend of the past year—would be joining you and your family.

You had spent weeks convincing your parents to let him come along. Your mom was on board from the beginning, always quick to support you and, in her words, “happy to meet the boy who makes my daughter glow.” Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as easily swayed. His protective nature amplified when it came to your relationship with JJ, whom he viewed as reckless and irresponsible—a “pogue,” in his words, who wasn’t good enough for you.

Despite his reluctance, you finally got him to agree after promising JJ would sleep in the guest cabin and be on his best behavior. But you knew that was only half the battle. You were determined to show your dad how wrong he was about JJ.

“Are you sure about this?” JJ asked as he carried your suitcase to the back of your car. His trademark smirk softened into a more nervous expression.

“Yes,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his face. “I want you there with me. Don’t let my dad get in your head, okay?”

JJ exhaled and nodded. “Alright, but if he challenges me to a duel or something, you’re stepping in.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him briefly. “Deal.”

The lake house was as picturesque as ever, surrounded by towering pines and a crystal-clear lake that sparkled under the afternoon sun. Your mom greeted JJ with open arms the moment he stepped out of the car, pulling him into a hug and exclaiming, “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, JJ! Y/N talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, I hope,” JJ said, his easy charm shining through.

“Of course, sweetie!” your mom said, giving you a knowing smile.

Your dad stood off to the side, arms crossed as he surveyed JJ with a critical eye. “Let’s get the bags inside,” he said gruffly, brushing past without offering a greeting.

JJ’s shoulders tensed, but he covered it with a grin directed at you. “Fun times already,” he muttered under his breath.

You sighed, silently vowing to make this trip work.

The first few days went smoothly. JJ fit in effortlessly with your mom, helping her cook dinner and making her laugh with his endless stories. He spent hours swimming and kayaking with you on the lake, his carefree energy infectious.

But your dad remained distant, watching JJ like a hawk and making snide comments whenever he got the chance. “So, JJ,” your dad said one evening during dinner. “What’s your plan for the future? Or do you just plan to drift through life?”

JJ set his fork down and met your dad’s gaze. “I’m working at the marina right now, saving up for a boat of my own. I’d like to start a charter business someday.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow. “A charter business? Sounds...ambitious.”

“Dad,” you interjected, your tone sharp.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” JJ said, squeezing your hand under the table. “It’s not easy, but I’m willing to put in the work. I’ve got goals, even if they don’t look like the ones you might expect.”

Your mom quickly changed the subject, but the tension lingered.

It all came to a head on the fourth night. You were sitting on the dock with JJ, your feet dangling in the water as the sun set. It was peaceful, just the two of you laughing and talking in the warm evening air.

But when you returned to the house, your dad was waiting in the living room. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” he said, his voice clipped.

JJ started to follow, but your dad held up a hand. “Alone.”

You exchanged a glance with JJ, who nodded reluctantly.

“What is it, Dad?” you asked once you were in the kitchen.

“I’ve been patient,” he began, pacing the room. “I’ve given JJ a chance, even though I don’t think he’s right for you. But this...this thing between you two—it’s a summer fling, Y/N. It’s not real.”

Your jaw dropped. “Not real? Are you serious? JJ and I have been together for a year.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” your dad said bluntly. “He doesn’t have a stable job or a secure future. What happens when this little romance fizzles out, and you’re left picking up the pieces?”

“Wow,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “You don’t even know him, Dad. You’ve already decided he’s not worth anything because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little box.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” he said, his tone softening.

“No,” you snapped. “You want what you think is best for me. But guess what? I’m an adult. I get to choose who I love, and I choose JJ.”

Your dad’s face hardened. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you said fiercely, tears stinging your eyes.

You turned on your heel and stormed out, finding JJ waiting on the porch. His expression was a mix of concern and determination. “I heard yelling. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, throwing your arms around him. “But I don’t care what he says. I love you, JJ. I’m not letting him come between us.”

JJ pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean that,” you said.

He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. “Because I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he dropped to one knee. “Y/N, I know this isn’t the most romantic timing, but I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

JJ slipped the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Inside the house, your mom was watching through the window, a wide smile on her face. Your dad stood behind her, his expression unreadable. But for the first time, he didn’t say a word.

A/N: This will be my last JJ fic for a while. I’m just not feeling the same connection to him and Rafe as I used to. I’m sorry, and I hope you understand.

Taglist: @courta13