#sorry it’s long i can’t add a keep reading line

[loveinhawkins]

For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.

Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.

Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.

One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”

She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.

Claudia opens the door quietly.

It’s not Max who’s in the bed.

She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.

And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.

Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.

He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.

She takes one step forward.

Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.

Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”

Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”

“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.

And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.

She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.

She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.

“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.

Dustin blinks, so unsure.

She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.

“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”

Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.

He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking. Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.

Eddie stares at her.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”

Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”

Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”

It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.

But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?

“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.

Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”

His hand is shaking again.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”

“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”

Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.

Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”

When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.

“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”

Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.

“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”

She laughs. “Oh, I know.”

It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.

And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.

The door abruptly slams open.

Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.

But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…

And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.

Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.

Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.

She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.

“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”

She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”

Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”

“As long as you do one thing for me.”

“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”

Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”

Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.

“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”

“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”

“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”

The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…

Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.

“How did you know that?”

Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”

“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”

“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”

She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”

They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.

Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.

Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”

“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”

“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”

“Yes, Dusty?”

“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”

“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”

Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”

Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”

“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”

Dustin makes an uncertain noise.

“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.

“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”

Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”

“Great. Thank you, honey.”

Dustin’s already asleep.

Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.

Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.

But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.

[solbaby7]

I would like to order a Vodka Cranberry neat please, with a salt rim and add a lime if that’s allowed please 👀😏🫶🏼

if that’s allowed? honey we all know by now i will ride the angst train until the wheels fall off🫡

[ “why do you even care?” “because i do” + smut/angst + az ]

-> BLURB BAR <-

“Will you—will you just stop for a second and listen to me?”

“That’s all I ever do, Az.” The words wobble, a combination of anger and sadness ruining its stability. Tears stream down your face, staining the silk of your dress and smearing makeup that took you entirely too long to perfect. “Listen to you and all your bullshit promises that you never fucking keep.”

His stealth is frustrating but not more than the pure self-hatred that brews when you can’t fight the desire to glance over your shoulder; foolishly allowing your chest to bloom with heat when you realize he was following you.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this anymore.

He promised to stay away.

Too dangerous, he said. Worried for your safety, he insisted.

Refused to be responsible for the guilt that would ensue if something horrid ever happened to you; a truth he can’t confess but you’re well versed in reading between the lines.

“I know, I’m sorry—just please hear me out. Put me out of my fucking misery because I can’t keep watching you go out with males who don’t even deserve to share your air.”

If you weren’t so hurt, maybe your mind would’ve latched onto the last part of his sentence rather than the first. “Put you out of your misery?” The harsh click of your heels on cobblestone halts so abruptly it makes Azriel bump into you a little. Bare arms brush against the sturdy material of his leathers as they cross over your chest, goosebumps staved off by the steady warmth he radiates and you pretend that’s why you don’t create more distance. “Why do you even care?”

You’re not sure to really even want the answer.

Certain, it won’t be good enough.

After everything Azriel had put you through, this never ending game of tug of war. Giving you an inch only for him to rear back and snatch a mile. Your expectations are unrealistic; a soldier hanging up his sword just for you.

“Because, I do.”

And yet, you still amuse the possibility.

Dusting off your hands and re-familiarizing yourself with the burn of rope in your grasp before taking a sharp, experimental tug.

Bodies gravitate closer like magnets, attempting to resist until the pull becomes too much.

Your heart hammers in your chest, silence filling the air for one, two, three whole seconds before the collision happens. Your lips against his own; a frenzy of a kiss where you can’t really tell if your hands are running through his hair or tracing down the strong line of his neck and shoulders just to feel him or just to remember.

All hard lines and harsh breaths as tongues grow reacquainted. The pathetic little whimper he lets out when nails scratch along the back of his neck, a bite that toes the line of too much. “Shouldn’t matter to you who I date.”

It only makes him hold you tighter, tugging your hips in closer. “I know it shouldn't.” His words muffle against your mouth, too stubborn or too selfish to pull away for even a second���not when he's finally gotten you close. “But, it still does." Shadows stretch forward, cloaking you in darkness; shielding you from the hopeless male you'd left back at the restaurant, as if they feared he'd come stumbling out in search of you.

They make it clear that you're already taken; trapped even, by a male too greedy to allow even a drop of you be spilled. Azriel's tongue trails down the length of your neck, nose nuzzling in the inviting scent of your body oils. Memorizing parts of you he’d thought long forgotten.

A mole here. Scars there. Soft pudge that warms him down to the marrow when pressed against his hardness. “You can’t just keep following me around.”

Following was a light way of putting it—stalking was more right.

His figure looming in your blind spots, lingering around corners and watching like a hawk that’s locked onto its prey. Your routine is committed to memory from the moment your fire tokes in the morning to the bakery you stop by in the middle of the week for a slice of fresh key lime pie. A reward for refraining from replying to his letters or pointedly ignoring the stunning floral display that arrives on your porch every week like clockwork. “Can’t stop even if I wanted to. Not when I know you’re out with someone who can’t even make you laugh.”

“At least they don’t make me cry.” Damn you for leaning in closer, basking in that familiar brood and the masculine musk that sends all five senses into a fritz. A defeated sigh escapes you when you melt to mush under his palms; too vulnerable to lie. “It’s easier with them.”

“Easy’s overrated.” He’s kneading at the swell of your hips until bravery grows or restraint snaps and he’s pawing at handfuls of your ass. Guiding you back until you can feel rough brick catching on strands of your hair. “Boring too—bet he wouldn’t have been able to make you cum. Even if he actually tried.”

Takes everything in you not to bite back. Especially because Azriel’s sort of right but admitting that out loud is more humiliating than your body just giving it away. By now, he has to feel the frantic pulse of your jugular under his tongue. “Maybe I should go back and find out.”

If his warning growl doesn’t send shivers down your spine, the nip of his teeth on such sensitive flesh does. “I dare you to try.”

A challenge that comes with stipulations.

Skillful hands work their way under your dress, teasing at soft thighs until his knuckles are bumping against lace—it locks you in place. Azriel lets out a mean chuckle when you hike one leg up on his hip, spreading yourself wide; presenting yourself instead of running away like you should.

It just feels so good.

Lower lips are spread wide, dripping with slick as two thick fingers glide through with ease. Azriel knows his way around, just barely dipping into a greedy hole before retreating only to tap at an achy bundle of nerves so he can see the desperate jolt of your hips. “No,” He speaks more so for himself than you, too occupied with prying you open and feeling your arousal pool in his palm. “You wouldn’t do that. Probably haven’t had a cock in this cunt since that last time I filled it—feels just as tight as I left it.”

If the nights chill wasn’t nipping at bared skin, you know your blush would’ve burned all the way down your chest. “Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying.”

You shouldn’t have said that. Probably wouldn’t have if Azriel’s thumb wasn’t working perfectly against your clit, calloused fingers rubbing against slick inner walls, abusing nooks and cranny’s that leave your knees buckling. “Don’t you know that you can’t give away a pussy that doesn’t belong to you?” Salacious sounds squelch between your thighs, head thrown back and eyes rolling in your skull as Az takes and takes; unlocking the doors to your sex and greeting it with a warm welcome. “Not if I still own it.”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 2: The First Taste✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: It is finally here! Sorry that has taken so long to get updated, but this turned out exactly how I wanted it to. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me organize my mood board and for letting me chat your ear off about this series! 🩷

Chapter Summary: You decide to go back to Club Inferno, back to those smoldering brown eyes. Turns out you do want more pleasure from Joel, the club owner.

Rating: 18+ Only MDNI

Word Count: 11.7k

Chapter Tags: Oral (M/F receiving), fingering, dirty talk, pining, flirting, some fluff, pleasure dom! Joel, reader has doubts, reader has hair, no use of y/n, pleasure dom! Joel

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

You spend the next few days at work in a deep haze, your mind completely muddled at the thought of those smoldering dark eyes that haunt your dreams night after night. You can’t concentrate on reorganizing books, can’t focus on your own co-workers as they meander around the library keeping busy while you stand leaning up against a wooden bookshelf doing nothing but looking at the business card Joel gave you. 

   You mindlessly turn the flashy card over and over in your palm, memorizing his phone number, etching his name into your mind as you read his name over and over and over again until the silhouette of his towering body is burned into your brain. You didn’t call, didn’t text him like you should have done after he made you cum on his thigh. God, you want to though. But is it a good idea? Probably not. 

   As you shift the paper card around your fingers, you think of those lust blown eyes, that rugged panting noise he made when he was breathing hard against the shell of your ear, the way those thick fingers felt inside you, the way he called you a good girl and whispered how fucking good you tasted. 

   You slip the card back into the pocket of your jeans and lean your head back against some hardback books in the science section. You huff out and put a hand to your sweating forehead as you fight not to get all worked up again, but it doesn’t work. You’re already wet from thinking about him, so you decide you will see him again. Friday. You’ll go back to the club Friday. 

   You want more, need more. And so you’ll have him. Friday. 

   Your dress flows to the middle of your thighs, the sparkly midnight blue material shimmering under the dim lights of the club as soon as you walk through the front doors of Club Inferno. The bar is crowded, people scattered all around as loud music blares through the speakers. The dance floor is packed, bodies spinning under the crystal lights of the disco ball. Your heart gallops in your chest, your mouth dry as you hope he’s here. Please be here, please be here. 

   You turn toward the lit up bar that’s packed with alcohol lining the back mirrored wall and notice something is different, off. You scan your eyes around and try to decipher what’s changed as you take in the aesthetics of the night club. You peel your eyes over the atmosphere carefully, and you stop in place when you notice it. There’s not just heated red signs around the back walls anymore. There’s now pink ones too, glittering under the dim lights as you furrow your eyebrows up. When did they add the pink signs? Your eyes grow wide at the realization. You mentioned pink signs and how there was too much red last time. He must’ve listened to you…

   The pretty blonde bartender snaps you out of your deep thoughts as she gets your attention. “Need a drink, hun?” she asks as she sets two big glasses of beer in front of two gentlemen in suits in front of you. 

   “Oh, no. Thanks. I was just wondering if Joel was around?” you ask nervously as you look shamefully at her. Hopefully she doesn’t see your cheeks heating up or notice how sweaty your palms are at your sides. 

   She nods her head behind you and smiles as she says, “He’s actually right behind you.”

   You look up at the mirrored wall behind the stacked alcohol bottles and gasp when you see a pair of dark eyes flash in your reflection. You quickly turn around and nearly fall over when you see how handsome he looks tonight. A red button-up collared shirt , sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose tanned skin with corded veins spiraling down his forearms, clean pressed jeans, and slicked back curls that are threaded with grey. He’s so… gorgeous.

   His eyes flick over your body as he rakes a hand slowly through his salt-and-pepper scruff, analyzing your dress, your legs, your eyes. You’re nearly out of breath as he glances your way. “Didn’t think I was gonna hear from you again,” he smiles as he walks up in front of you and stops right where you can smell his woodsy cologne and whiskey scent. He smells so enticing, you could practically swim in the scent if you wanted to. 

   You shrug and let a sigh out. “Couldn’t keep me away, I guess.”

   “Mmm, guess not.” His honey colored eyes trail over your skin again as he smirks and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”

   “Okay,” you say quietly as he leads you over to some empty black barstools. You know what a drink will lead to, and it makes your skin simmer with lightning running through your veins. 

   Joel gets the blonde’s attention, and she saunters over and smiles brightly over at him. “What’ll it be, Joel?”

   “Glass of whiskey on the rocks and a Malibu tonic?” His eyebrow arches as he looks over at you, needing approval before he sends her off. You just nod and watch as he gives her the go ahead, letting the smooth bar top rub against your fingertips as you view him turn slowly in his barstool, bumping his knee lightly against yours.

   “You remembered my drink of choice?” you ask with raised brows. 

   “Thought I’d forget, hmm?” He leans forward as he puts his weight into his elbow, resting his hand on his cheek as it trails over his greying scruff. You can’t believe you’re sitting here with him again, almost in the same position you were in last weekend. It’s almost too much. His broadness, his height, the way he’s staring at you. 

   You adjust in your seat, pulling down the fabric of your dress as you clear your throat. “I dunno. Just kind of hard to believe you’d remember something as simple as that about me.”

   He assesses you, watching you carefully as his dark eyes flick over your nervous form. “Drinks are simple, easy to remember. It’s you that’s hard to forget. Your face, your eyes, your scent.” 

   Your eyes grow wide, suffocating on your own breath as the pounding music flits through your ears, your skin forming goosebumps along your inner thighs as those dark eyes gaze into yours, his full attention on you. “My… scent?” you ask all wide-eyed with your mouth slightly agape.

   “Mhm. I could smell that pretty waft of vanilla when you were standing by the bar. Almost like I was breathing you in,” he murmurs, his voice all low and gruff as his thick fingers tap against the glossy bar top, his eyes melding into yours like he wants to devour you. 

   You can feel that thick tension like smoke filling the room, hot embers filing your nostrils as you fight to compose yourself. You lean forward just a bit, enough to brush your knee against his smooth denim, stirring something low that you can’t quite stop. 

   Before he can lean in, the bartender comes back with your drinks, breaking the tension that was just close enough to drown in. “Enjoy!” She smiles as she leaves to attend to other guests. 

   You take the straw in your hand, twirling it around the sloshing alcohol and then take a sip, letting the fruity taste wash away your growing arousal between your thighs. 

   Joel surprises you as he asks a personal question, maybe something to break the tension as he looks up from his amber glass of whiskey. “So, what do you do for work?” 

   You knit your eyebrows together and swallow another mouthful of the fruity liquid as you eye him suspiciously. He wants to know where you work? Interesting. “I work at the library. Austin Central Library. I’m a librarian.”

   He smiles gently your way, eyes all glistening as flecks of dark brown irises crinkle up at you. It’s a softer smile, not the menacing smirk he usually gives you. This one is different. “Should’ve guessed. A book lover who’s also smart? Figures,” he chuckles as he takes a generous gulp of his whiskey. “Say I come in there one day. Would you assist me in helpin’ me find some books? Maybe some classics? Books that maybe others don’t check out as often?”

   He raises a brow at you, a glint in his beautiful honey eyes as you laugh and play nervously with the bendy straw that sits in your almost untouched drink. “I mean, I would. Seems like you already know your way around though,” you smirk. 

   He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah, reckon I do.”     

   A loose curl falls over his eye, a strand that looks so soft to the touch. You almost push it back, so close while your hovering hand sits above your tan thigh, almost pushing the limits into other dangerous territory. 

   You clear your head of the ridiculous notion and push yourself back, watching as he moves the curl away himself. That was a close one. 

   You tap your long nails on the side of your glass and try your luck. “I was surprised to learn you were the owner of this club.”

   He smirks your way and laughs. “Yeah?”

   “You do this often? Pick up pretty girls at work and take them back to the dark hallway?” Your eyes narrow while he just shakes his head and laughs. 

   “No, can’t say that I do. You just caught my attention. I jus’ had to talk to you, at least. You were just so… stunning. Couldn’t pass you up.”

   Oh. 

   Your cheeks burn hot, crimson tinging the skin as you take another large gulp of your alcoholic beverage. You need to calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably like the rest of them, but something deep down tells you he’s not. 

   “How long have you been in the business?” you ask as you swirl the straw around the melting ice cubes. 

   “A few years. My brother, Tommy, joined the business with me. We still do contracting together on the side, but this is my main gig.”

   Contracting? He was a contractor? Fuck, can he get any hotter? 

   “Contractor, huh?” you ask curiously as your eyes light up with interest. 

   “That’s right. I like buildin’ things, makin’ things with my hands. It’s sort of relaxin’ to me. The way I can jus’ put together somethin’, imagine anything I want and jus’ build it from scratch. It’s probably my favorite hobby, honestly.”

   You find yourself hovering over the clean bar top, leaning against your elbow as you find yourself dreamily gazing at him. You gawk at his crooked smile, stare at the indented dimple in his left cheek as you get lost in his words, in his lively expressions. His low voice is so melodious that you think you could listen to him talk about his hobbies all night long. Maybe even over dinner, at his house, curled up in his lap…

   You shake yourself out of your hypnotic daze and smooth your dress out. You shouldn’t get close to anyone. Not after your ex, not after that horrible, horrific…

   “Hey, you good?” Joel asks, stirring you out of your hazy thoughts. 

   “What?” you ask confused as you come back to reality. 

   “You jus’ looked a little lost there for a second. You alright?” His voice is gentle, deep, and his large hand is even warmer as it glides over the top of your thigh, his touch soothing you back down from dark thoughts you shouldn’t be turning to. 

   “Oh, yeah. Sorry. You were saying?”

   He looks at you hesitantly, his eyes flicking over you quickly to assess that you’re really alright, but your small smile reassures him as he continues on. 

   Your eyes flicker over the flashy signs, the pink hue reflecting off the scarlet red ones, giving it just the right mix of a perfect combination. He sees you staring, and his lips curl up into a big grin as he raises his eyebrows. “What’s got your attention, hmm?” he asks as he looks over at the sparkling pink sign you’re staring at. 

   “The signs. There’s pink ones now, not just red…” Your voice catches on a whisper, almost being drowned out by the blaring pop song that booms through the speakers, but he still hears you. 

   “Oh, those. Yeah, some pretty little thing complained that there was too much red. Said I should throw some  pink in there. Stubborn thing, a bit moody, but glad I listened to her. It doesn’t look half bad.” He winks at you, and suddenly your heart is in your throat, pumping and making you gasp as he smirks your way with a knowing look in his eyes. 

   You take your chance to flirt, leaning forward as your fingertips hover over the top of his knee. “Didn’t think you’d listen to me after I was complaining the whole time. Didn’t know I was talking to the owner of the club. You could’ve just kicked me out,” you say with a curt laugh.

   He leans forward just a tad, the tops of his calloused fingers laying gently on the top of your thigh as you gasp in response to the heat of his touch. “Sweetheart, now why on earth would I kick you out? You clearly had an affect on me, otherwise I would’ve kept the signs the way they were. And besides,” he leans forward and places his mouth against the shell of your ear, his hot breath dancing across your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. “I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum on my thigh if I would’ve done that.”

   Your breath hitches, your body coming to life as you feel the nerve endings light up against his touch, his breath, his smell. Suddenly, you want more, need more. And maybe he’ll give it to you, just maybe…

   “Why’d you come back here?” he whispers in the crest of your ear, his voice falling like drops of water against your heated skin, showering you in a mist of desire. “I don’t think it’s to socialize or find another guy, not even to sit back and grab a drink at the bar.”

   You feel his hand ghost over the edge of your hip, his palm hovering over the small of your back as you fight to keep yourself together. “No,” you hum, voice lilting like a fresh rose as your fingertips dig into the denim of his thigh. 

   His lips slide against your jawline, his whiskey breath fogging your mind as he whispers back to you in a deep, gravelly tone. “So, why’d you come back, angel? You want somethin’ else from me? Want me to give you more pleasure, more ecstasy?” 

   His gruff voice slides through your body, making the inside of your thighs press together as you feel the sticky slick drip against your lace. He hasn’t even gotten his hands on you tonight, and you’re already drowning in him. 

   You grab hold of his button-up, clinging to his silky fabric as you feel his coarse scruff drag against the edge of your cheek. You can smell him, almost taste the whiskey dripping down the back of his throat. And you want to taste it, feel it between your legs. 

   “I… Joel,” you whimper as his other hand trails up your thigh, dragging those thick, calloused fingers up up up until he’s raising the hem of your dress, just enough to drag a low groan from your throat. 

   “Yeah, s’that right?” he purrs as his lips meet the shell of your ear again. 

   You hold in a moan as his fingertips trace circles over your heated skin, his hand sliding up to skim the inside of the crease of your thigh, eliciting tingles that start low in your stomach. You want it, want him. “Joel,” you whisper, only low enough for him to hear as you cling harder to his button-up.

   “Gotta use your words, darlin’,” he chuckles. “Now, tell me. You want me to take you to the back? Give you more than last time? ‘Cause I’d sure love to taste you, really taste you,” he smirks. 

   “Are you gonna put me on your thigh again?” you ask breathlessly while his lips trace dangerously over the crest of your ear. 

   “No, angel. Not this time. Gonna show you somethin’ else. Gonna put my mouth between those pretty legs of yours,” he chuckles while his eyes darken with danger and temptation. 

   A wave of slick washes over you, and you’re already dripping at the anticipation of having his tongue swallow you whole. 

   “So, that what you want? Want me to show you how truly good I can make you feel?”

   You’re nearly pulling him toward you with how strong your grip on him is as you nod your head up and down like an eager puppy. “Mhm. Please,” you respond with a complacent whine. 

   He laughs and pulls you out of your seat, keeping his fingers entangled with yours as he grabs his glass of whiskey and drags you along. “C’mon then. Let’s go get ya taken care of.”

   He guides you through the dancing crowd, pushing through sweaty bodies as the bass fills your insides, the loud music mixing together with the nerves pulling down your spine as you follow him into the unknown. 

   The glittery dark walls turn into a narrow hallway as couples making out against the crowded walls step aside when they see Joel. They gawk at him and whisper quiet slurs as you pass them by, probably wishing they were you at this very moment. 

   He looks back at you and smirks, his grip on you tightening, the shadows making the dark brown flecks in his eyes look almost black. As black as a panther’s fur, eyes that want to pounce and consume you whole. And that just makes your heart hammer loudly against your chest as you stare back into those dreamy pools of desire.

   He takes you to the last door at the end of the dark hallway, painted crimson red as he twists the lavish golden handle and presses through, leading you in as he quietly closes it behind him and turns the lock to where no one else can get in. You gulp and try to take a slow breath, but the nerves seem to be crushing down on your lungs. You’re typically quite eloquent, but try as you might, you can’t seem to place what it is you’re feeling. Nervous. Excited. Absolutely panicked. You want this but your mind and body seem to be at odds.

   When you turn around, your mouth parts open as you take in the massive room. A large leather couch sits in the middle, a long pool table with red smooth felt coating the top of it sits in the right hand corner. The lights are dim, a lit fireplace sits crackling next to the leather couch, the walls glisten with shimmering black wallpaper, and the feel of the room is homey, warm, private. You can still hear the pounding music and occasional chants of club goers, but it’s mostly quiet in here. The only thing you can hear is the rushing of blood through your eardrums, your heart right along with it. 

   He lingers by the doorframe, adjusting his sleeves as he carefully rolls them up to his elbows, his smoldering eyes never leaving yours. Suddenly you’re a hot mess, fingers twisting against the hem of your blue dress, your eyes blown wide as you feel your chest tighten at the thought of being alone with him. Joel Miller. The club owner, the absolute menace who was sent to break into your closed up boundaries. 

   “Where do you want me?” you ask breathlessly.

   He stalks toward you, a sly smirk on his face as he starts to back you up toward the leather couch. You have no room to go around, no way to say no, your body just moves pliantly at his command as his thick fingers push gently against your hips. 

   “On the couch, sweetheart. Right. Here.” He gently pushes you down as you land in a heap on the plush couch. You scoot back, your legs sliding easily over the black leather as you squeeze your thighs together and dig your fingers into the edge of the new material. 

   You’re suddenly so nervous as sweat pools against the back of your neck, your lips trembling as you watch him take a generous gulp of his amber colored whiskey. You watch the way he moves, his bulging biceps clinging to his button-up, his slicked back curls throwing smoky grey colors under the dim lighting as he turns slowly, ending right between your legs. 

   He slowly bends down, running his calloused fingers languidly over the curve of your thighs. Your body tenses up, fingers digging into the slick material as your breath hitches at the sight of that smug smirk he has pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

   He tries to part your legs, but you hold back, afraid to show him what you look like bare. What if he doesn’t like what he sees, what if he suddenly changes his mind, what if he tells you to leave? Suddenly, you’re overstimulated by all the unknowns, and you can barely stand to look into his dark eyes as your own gazes toward the black polished floors. 

   As if he can sense your blinding fears and see right through your insecurities, his blown out eyes ease up, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares up at you with a look of encouragement. He cups your chin and makes you gaze up, right into the pits of his softening eyes. 

   “Hey,” he says with a gentle voice. “You nervous?”

   You stumble over your words and just nod, letting the gut wrenching feeling slide down your closed up throat. “Mhm,” you nod slowly. 

   His lips curl up into a gentle smile, and it takes the breath out of you as his dimple caves into the middle of his cheek. One hand lingers on the top of your thigh, and the other grazes softly underneath your chin. “You don’t gotta be nervous now, sweetheart. Jus’ relax, breathe.”

   You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly, starting to relax every limb in your body as you cautiously release your fingers from the edge of the couch and lay them by the hem of your sparkly dress. 

   “There ya go, angel. Jus’ breathe. Can ya do that for me?” You nod your head, and he chuckles lightly. “Good. Now, wanna tell me what’s got ya all nervous?”

   You try to look down, but he keeps his hand rested underneath your chin. You squirm a little, shuffling your hips against the squeaky leather, but he stills your body underneath him with his large palm. Your eyes shift up to his, and there’s no escaping those soft chocolate eyes that seem to stare straight into the depths of your shaking soul.

   “I just… I haven’t really. I’m not…” Fuck. You can’t even think straight, let alone speak without making a fool of yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe…

   He presses his calloused fingers softly against your jawline and furrows his eyebrows as he assesses your stiff features. “Have you ever had anyone go down on you before?” His words are so gentle, not at all condescending which makes you unclench your jaw just a tad. 

   “I mean, a couple of times, but it wasn’t anything special. Maybe just a few seconds. They didn’t actually make me feel good. I think it was just so they could slide in. It wasn’t for my benefit, guess you could say. So no, I guess I really haven’t,” you mutter as you pout your bottom lip out. 

   His brows knit together in a tight line, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with a soft gaze. His fingertips leave your chin, and you feel like you’ve just lost a clutch on yourself, but his fingertips land softly on your wrist instead. “Well, that’s a real shame. They must be fuckin’ blind to pass up a girl like you. A real fuckin’ shame, but don’t worry, angel, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I can promise you that. You want that?”

   You eagerly nod your head up and down as your words tumble out of your mouth. “Yes, Joel. Please.” Maybe you’re a little too eager because you wrap your fingers firmly around his wrist like you're digging your roots into the tan of skin.  

   He chuckles lightly and smiles up at you, the dark flecks of his eyes seeming to sparkle under the dimly lit lights of the private room. “You gonna relax for me?”

   “Mhm,” you hum out. 

   “Attagirl,” he winks. You nearly choke on your own saliva at the sound of him saying Attagirl. It’s a simple word, but he’s telling you what a good girl you’re being, and it sends butterflies flitting through your lower belly. 

   His fingertips start to graze up and down the tops of your thighs, his calloused thumbs dipping down to your inner thighs as he starts to massage the area tenderly. You know what he’s doing, know what he’s capable of doing as he looks up at you with hungry, dark eyes. He wants to devour you, and you sure as hell aren’t going to say no to him. The hottest man you’ve ever laid eyes on wants you. And you sure as hell want him, too. 

   “Need a little liquid courage to relax a little, hmm?” he asks as he cocks one eyebrow up, his head turning to the side as he looks at you with curious eyes. 

   “It wouldn’t hurt,” you shrug. 

   “Alright then, angel. Tip your head back jus’ a little. Gonna give ya a taste of my whiskey,” he says with a sultry tone. 

   You do as he says, tipping your head back just an inch as you watch him get up from the corner of your eye. He grabs his glass of amber whiskey, swirling it around as the ice hits the edge of the clear cup, making a clinking noise that sounds a lot like how your insides feel. All tingly and alive with nerves pulling low in your gut. 

   “Tip your head a little more, that’s it,” he approves as he places a hand under your chin and coaxes your lips open with his calloused thumb. “Keep that pretty mouth open now.”

   You watch him tip his own head back, taking a large gulp of his whiskey on the rocks. Your eyes grow wide when you see him leaning over you as his thumb pulls your mouth open wider. He lets the alcohol pool out of his mouth like a running faucet, flowing down through your own mouth as the whiskey and the taste of his saliva mix together while it slides slowly down the back of your throat. 

   “Swallow,” he instructs as he closes your mouth, still hovering over you as he watches you down his taste. You feel the burn simmer through your stomach, taste him on the tip of your tongue as his woodsy cologne sends you into a hazy fog where all you can see is him as his dark eyes begin to grow black. 

   “Good girl,” he praises. Your mouth gawks open as he sinks back down to the floor, situating himself between the center of your legs as he slowly begins to part them. 

   He clicks his tongue as he sees your body sewn to the back of the couch. “Now, angel, can’t reach ya all the way back there. C’mere.” 

   He pulls you to the edge of the leather couch, the palms of his calloused hands latching onto the backs of your thighs. And then he’s parting them, running his fingers nice and slow up the inside of your thighs until he’s hiking the bottom of your dress up over your hips.

   You can’t breathe, your voice being held back by the drowned out whines and moans you’re already holding back. You know you’re going to fall apart as soon as his large tongue meets your center, and he’s going to devour you, lick you clean till you have nothing left to give because you just have this feeling that he’ll work you and work you and work you till you’re fully gone. And it nearly drowns out the pulsing energy flowing through your ears. 

   He drags his lips against your skin, sending trails of kisses up the insides of your thighs as you suck in a breath from the tingling sensations he’s sending straight to your core. He drags his lips higher, lifting your skirt flush over your thighs as he pulls you closer to him while his breath blows gently over your clothed core.

   “Look at you, already soakin’ for me,” he purrs as he drags the tip of his curved nose against your clothed folds. Fuck. You hold in a whine, bucking your hips forward as you silently beg him to keep going. 

   He chuckles out at your response, his dark eyes smoldering as he takes the tip of his thumb and starts to slowly caress your soaked folds. He gauges your reaction, your wide eyes and panting mouth as he starts to circle your clit slowly through the dripping lace. 

   “Joellll,” you whine out, your manicured nails digging into the leather of the couch. 

   “Yeah? Does it feel good,” he teases as he presses harder against your buzzing bundle of nerves. 

   “Mhm, need more. Need you to…”

   “Shhh. I’ve got ya, angel. Jus’ gettin’ ya nice and worked up. Want you drippin’ for me. Want this pretty pussy messy and sticky so I can drink you down like a bottle of sweet whiskey,” he purrs with mischief written all over those syrupy brown eyes. 

   Before you can speak, he takes his tongue and runs it slowly over your clothed core, soaking your ruined lace as you stifle out a moan and buck your hips forward. “Joel, please,” you beg as your heels dig into the surface of the dark floor. 

   “That’s what I thought,” he teases as his dark eyes shift up toward you. “Now, let’s get these off ya, shall we?” He pulls your lacy panties down your legs and over your high heeled stilettos, bunching up the ruined material and shoving them deep into the pocket of his jeans. 

   He spreads you wide, your pussy on full display as he sits back on his heels and gawks at you, sliding his palm over his silvery scruff as his eyes blow out wide. He groans, long and deep as he takes in the sight of your dripping core. You can barely breathe as you watch him take you in nice and slow, his eyes alight with fire you want to dip your fingertips into. 

   “Goddamn. You’re fuckin’ perfect, angel. Look at that pretty pink pussy. Drippin’ and soppin’ jus’ for me, ain’t that right?” He smirks, eyes blowing out into black pits as he leans back down and starts spreading your thighs, his meaty hands holding you down while his cool breath blows over your sensitive center. 

   You squirm underneath him, feeling sweat pool beneath your long locks as you watch him become mesmerized with your glistening, sticky core. “Joel,” you whisper, barely making a sound as you try to hold yourself back from crushing his face to your center. 

   “Mmm, yeah. You’re such a messy girl, think I need to clean you up,” he purrs as his thumb lightly traces over your sticky folds. 

   “Please,”you beg as you groan out with need. “Your mouth, Joel. I need it,” you whine.

   “Yeah, ya do,” he smirks. The next thing you know, he’s leaning down and licking a thick, clean stripe all the way from your dripping hole to the tops of your curls above your glistening mound. You moan, body writhing beneath him as he takes his meaty hands and holds your hips still. 

   “You taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Jus’ hold on. Let me take care of this pretty pussy.”

   He dives back in, his thick fingers spreading your folds wide as he devours you whole. His tongue languidly slides up and down, collecting drops of slick as he works you nice and slow. Your hips cant up every time his large tongue glides over your buzzing mound, feeling the electric zaps of lightning shooting down your spine when he takes his time and drowns himself in your messy pussy. 

   He works and works and works you over, drawing meticulous circles around your puffy clit while your eyes roll back, and you toss your head back in full elation. You can feel the energy coursing through your body, feel that aching desire being fed as he feeds on you, flicking his tongue up and down ravenously until you swear you see stars in your vision. 

   You tangle your fingers into his greying locks, hear him groan under your hold as you fight to keep a grip on yourself. You’re so close to spilling, so close to elated bliss as your body hums beneath your skin. 

   “Eyes on me, angel. Wanna see those beautiful eyes. Watch me, wanna see you fall apart against my tongue,” he purrs as he licks another long stripe up the center of your folds.

   When you snap your eyes open, they go wide as you look at the hungry beast of a man beneath you. He looks completely wrecked, black blown eyes searing into your gaze, his beard dripping in your glistening arousal, his rough tongue working your aching bundle of nerves while his large hands hold your thighs down, making sure you do cum beneath his tongue. 

   You’re a panting mess, high pitched moans drowning out the blaring music from the other side of the club while you feel yourself start to break. Another wave of slick hits his tongue, and you’re fighting everything inside you to hold on just a little longer.

   “Don’t hold back, sweetheart. Wanna see you, wanna taste you. C’mon now, give it to me,” he growls. He pulls your puffy clit into his mouth and sucks, firing off every single nerve ending in your body until you can’t hold on anymore. You’re gone. 

   “Joel - fuck,” you moan as you feel the tingling sensations run flush down your spine, igniting fireworks in your mind that make you dizzy, and then you’re spilling yourself all over him. Slick builds on his tongue, and he groans while he laps up every bit of it while he growls good girl through the pleasurable licks. He keeps you there till there’s not a hint of slick left between your thighs, he eats you up like a ravenous dog that’s starving for you. 

   When he’s finished, he looks up and smirks at you with a mischievous smile. “How was that, angel? Did I make you feel good?”

   You nod your head up and down slowly. “So good. I’ve never felt anything quite like that,” you pant out as he chuckles up at you. 

   “Well, that’s good. ‘Cause I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks.

   “What?” you ask with wide eyes. Not done with you yet? 

   “Oh no, angel. That was one orgasm. You’re gonna give me another one.”

   “Another one? But I…”

   “Know you have more in you, sweetheart. Let me get you there, let me make you lose control.”

   He slides you forward, holding your hip down with one of his meaty hands while his other starts to play with your sensitive mound. “I can make you cum in so many ways. This time I’ll take you through with my fingers, know exactly where to get ya,” he smirks, his blown out eyes looking like black pits of desire, a pit you’ll gladly follow him into. 

   You pant out in a needy whine, watching him drag his middle and ring fingers down your folds, and then shoving them deep into your dripping hole. “Oh,” you moan as he bends his fingers and reaches that spongy, soft spot that makes slick collect on his drenched knuckles. 

   “Yeah? Feel good?” he asks with a smug smirk on that handsome face, your release still sticking through his greying threads throughout his beard. The sight of it makes you drip more for him, panting out a moan when you respond.

   “Mhm, Joel. Feels - so good,” you murmur as you dig your nails into the shoulder of his crimson shirt. 

   “Mmm, that’s what I like to hear,” he responds while licking his lower lip seductively. 

   He pushes the back of his thumb into your buzzing clit, drawing slow, meticulous circles while his other fingers pump in and out of you, drawing wet, squelching noises out of you that just seem to turn him on even more. 

   “C’mon, angel. Tell me how good I’m makin’ ya feel,” he purrs as he continues pulverizing your needy pussy. 

   “So fucking good. Oh my god, Joel,” you whine as he bathes you in pure ecstasy, coating you in desires you didn’t even know you had in you. All you know is you want more, need more of him. 

   “Mmm, that’s good, angel. Wanna make you cum again,” he growls as his dark, blown out eyes tear into your whimpering soul. 

   “Please, Joel. Feels so good. Your fingers, your… fuck,” you whine as he ruts up into you, pushing on that sweet, spongy area that makes slick drip down his huge knuckles. 

   He chuckles, speeding up his meticulous circles of your clit and thrusting his fingers deep inside your messy hole. The wet noises of his calloused fingers brushing up into you are sinful, filling you to the brim until you can barely hold yourself back. You’re about to cum again, but this time feels much different than the last. 

   “C’mon now, messy girl. Spill for me, soak me,” he growls as his fingers move faster in and out of you, continuously tormenting you with how fucking good you feel beneath his touch. 

   “Joel, I’m gonna… gonna…”

   “Give it to me,” he demands with the bite of his snarl and blown out black pupils. 

   One more hit to your spongy walls and he’s knocking the orgasm out of you. His thumb stays clenched down on your throbbing clit, and your orgasm washes through you like a raging hurricane that destroys whole cities with its powerful riptides. You spill yourself, experiencing a new sensation that almost overpowers you as it takes you on the ride of your life. You start squirting, your elated moans filling the emptiness of the room as you release hot, damp slick all over his crimson button-up. 

   “Oh fuck yeah, angel. That’s a good fuckin’ girl. Goddamn,” he praises as his fingers slowly massage your insides, working out your mind blowing orgasm as you fight to keep yourself upright. 

   The arousal glistens on his salt-and-pepper scruff, slick coating the front of his soft material, while he’s knuckles deep into your dripping pussy as you take in just how fucked out he looks. He looks so hot with his messy curls falling down into his blown out eyes, his tongue licking his bottom lip seductively while he works you nice and slow with those meticulous fingers of his. He’s a work of art, a perfect masterpiece that you don’t want to stop looking at. He’s everything you really ever wanted in a man. And he looks so wrecked. 

   His eyes narrow playfully, black pits that swallow you whole as he hooks your tired legs over his broad shoulders and slides you to the very edge of the damp leather couch. His breath blows over your sensitive center, and you can barely tolerate anymore. 

   “Joel,” you whine, feeling like you have nothing else to give. 

   “S’okay, angel. One more, give me one more,” he coaxes as he melts his mouth down to your over sensitive core. 

   You have no room to speak, nowhere to go as he melds his tongue against your folds, dipping inside you, stroking languid licks against your aching clit that’s pulsing and so sensitive. He takes you past the edge, past all your boundaries as you dig your fingers into his mop of messy curls. 

   “Joel, it’s too much. I can’t cum again. I can’t…” you whine as he pops his mouth off your puffy clit. 

   “You can, angel. One more. Give me one more,” he purrs as you nod your head and hold in a whine. He takes his tongue and licks a thick strip all the way up your core, collecting slick against his tongue while he works up another building orgasm that you didn’t know you had left in you. 

   His fingers curl into you, reaching your spongy walls as his tongue pulls your drenched clit into his warm mouth. He sucks and drools over you, mixing his own saliva into your slick clit as he sucks and slurps on your aching core. 

   “Joel, I think I’m about to…”

   “That’s it, angel. One more time, let me hear those pretty moans. Say my name. Say it,” he slurs as he pushes his nose into the curls above your mound and licks feverishly against your puffy clit. 

   “Ahhh, Joellll,” you moan as you feel your slick wash through you, coating his tongue as he generously laps you up, panting between licks as he holds your hips down to lavish in your white hot release. 

   Your breath comes in waves, leaning your head back into the cushion of the leather couch as you watch him languidly clean all the slick from your sore, over sensitive pussy. 

   When he’s finished cleaning you off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks up at you with that devilish, handsome grin you burn into the back of your buzzing brain. He pulls the skirt of your dress down and pushes himself up, collapsing into the spot next to you on the plushy couch. 

   You both sigh, breathing heavily as he looks over at you and smiles, his blown out eyes relaxing into honey glazed eyes that burn holes through your vision. He’s so pretty when he smiles, eyes alight and his messy curls falling into his sweaty forehead. He looks fucking wrecked, but he looks so good like that. You wonder what he’d look like with you between his large legs…

   “How was that, hmm? Did I exceed your expectations?” he smirks as he lets his head fall back into the couch, glowing eyes staring right through you. 

   You smile, taking a deep breath as you let your aching muscles relax. “That was the best three orgasms of my life. You’re pretty�� amazing,” you beam as you see the hint of a sparkle in those thick pools of honey. 

   “Glad I could make ya feel good, angel. You deserve it, and I’m so happy that I could be of some assistance,” he chuckles as his calloused fingers slowly trail up and down your thigh, a gentle rhythm that puts you at ease. 

   Suddenly, you feel like you should move, get up from this couch full of comfort. You want to make him feel good. You should, after he coaxed three insane orgasms out of you, you feel as if you owe him. And you want to, need to give him the same. So you will. Right now. 

   You slowly slide from the couch, ending on your knees as you crawl between his legs, laying your hands flat on his jeans while your fingertips dig into the meat of his thighs. You want to taste him just like he tasted you. 

   “What are you doin’ down there, angel, hmm?” he asks curiously with one eyebrow raised high on his forehead. 

   You brush your fingertips higher, hands now resting on his leather belt. “What does it look like I’m doing?” You smirk up at him and watch his eyes darken with desire. 

   He runs his tongue smoothly over his bottom teeth and gives you a crooked half grin that makes you weak in the knees. “Thought you didn’t like goin’ down on guys, sweetheart. Change your mind?” His jaw ticks, and he looks at you as if he’s teasing you in the best possible way. 

   You smile sweetly up at him and say, “Well, you’re not just any guy,” you laugh as you roll your eyes. “You’re not them, you gave me pleasure first, indescribable bliss. So let me repay the favor. I want to do this. You didn’t ask, I just want to give you exactly what you gave me.”

   He leans forward, narrowing his dark eyes as he smirks devilishly your way, licking his lower lip as he gazes hungrily into your eyes. “Think you can handle it?”

   Your breath hitches, watching the way he’s teasing you, dark eyes alight with mischief written in those flecks of black charcoal. If he thinks that’s turning you on again then he’s absolutely right. You’re already so wet again, slick pooling in between your sticky thighs. 

   You lean forward and undo his leather belt as you toss it to the floor in a heap, smirking smugly up at him. “Oh, I can handle it.”

   He cocks a thick eyebrow up and relaxes into the slick couch, spreading his legs as he nods down to his jeans. “Alright then, sweetheart. Let’s see what you can do with that pretty mouth of yours.”

   You giggle silently and smile up at him, leisurely unzipping his zipper and tugging down his denim jeans, along with his black boxers. When his erect cock springs free, you gawk over how absolutely massive he is. His long, thick cock is leaking precum, the swollen red tip of him begging to be touched. He’s so fucking big that you can barely form a coherent sentence, he’s absolutely sensational. 

   “What’s the matter, angel?” he teases as he cocks his head to the side, a sarcastic smile tugging at his plush lips. “Think you can still handle it?”

   You watch him carefully, narrowing your eyes as you smirk up at him. He’s challenging you, coaxing you to take a hold of him. He doesn't know yet that you can’t pass up a challenge, especially when it comes to him. You may be timid most of the time, but this time you need to show him that you can handle him. 

   You lean forward, inching your hand over his muscular thigh until you’re ghosting over his weeping cock. “Oh, I can handle it. Watch me,” you smirk. 

   He lifts his brows like he’s trying to figure you out, like he wants to crawl inside your scrambled mind until he finds exactly what he wants to know. But somehow he knows you can handle it, so he leans back into the leather and nods his head. “Go on, then. Handle it,” he challenges. 

   You lick your glossy lips seductively as you reach your hand around the girth of his thick cock, slowly spreading the building precum up and down his shaft as you indulge in the wet sounds your hands are making working up and down him. He groans, shifting his hips forward as he relaxes his back against the leather of the couch.

   Keeping your eyes on him, you lean down and slowly lick up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, languidly taking your time and ending at the tip as you swirl your tongue in slow circles over his swollen red head.

   “Christ,” he groans, his dark pits turning carnal as he watches you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out as you start to bob your head up and down slowly, one hand at the base working the bottom of his shaft while your spit mixes with his precum. 

   You feel him squirm underneath you, his cock spasming in your mouth as you take him deeper, feeling your drool coat his slick cock as you suck him and tease him with your tongue, your hand, the back of your throat. He tastes so good, the salty bitterness sliding down your throat as you drink him down like he’s a fresh glass of sweet lemonade on a hot summer day in Austin.

   You take a breather, pulling off of him as you wrap your hand around his large length and start spreading your drool over him, making him messy as you smile sweetly up at him.

   He looks at you with cloudy eyes, looking absolutely fucked out as he takes you in. Messy lips, lip gloss smeared over his slick cock, a bead of drool connecting from his weeping tip to your lower lip, cheeks flushed pink as you look up at him with glossy eyes. He thinks you’re fucking perfect, a vision only the gods should see. And he feels as if he’s won the lottery because you’re a goddamn treasure. 

   “Fuck, sweetheart. Didn’t know you were so good with that pretty mouth of yours. Not too shy now, are ya?” he chuckles as he traces your bottom lip, catching the strand of drool that connects you to him like an intricate spider web spun around his swollen cock. 

   “Guess not,” you say as you shake your head. The way he’s looking at you seems intimate, even through his big, blown out eyes, it’s like he’s fawning over you, the position you’re in, between his knees, hand wrapped around his shaft, drool pooling in your mouth. It’s too much, too affectionate, you’re suddenly a blushing mess. 

   “Well, go on, angel. Keep goin’. Bein’ such a good girl with that pretty mouth, don’t stop on my account,” he chuckles, sliding his tongue menacingly over his bottom teeth as he winks at you. 

   You feel crimson fill your cheeks as you get back to work. You take him back in your mouth, slowly sliding down, down, down until you’re nearly choking on him. You make a muffled, gagging sound around him, and he tenses under you, groaning your name as he takes a hand and wraps it around your hair, holding it out of the way as you devour him. 

   “Attagirl, that’s it,” he hisses through his teeth when you go back down on him, your tongue twirling around his tip after you slide up and down the shaft of him, ending at his balls while you suck and wet them with your drool and spit. 

   “Goddamn,” he moans, cupping the back of your neck while your hair is wrapped firmly around his hand. When you come back up to the red, angry tip, he rasps out. “Think you can take me deeper, sweetheart?”

   Your heart speeds up, pulling itself into your throat as you swallow back any hesitation. He’s so big, it’ll be hard, but you’ll try. As long as he can guide you, you think you can do it. 

   You slowly nod your head up and down, taking a nice, deep breath while you still have the chance. “Mhm, yeah. I can try,” you pant out as he smiles warmly down at you. 

   “Alright, angel. Gonna guide you, okay? Jus’ wrap your hand around my wrist if it gets too much. Don’t wanna take you past your limits,” he chuckles, placing his large hand back where it was, keeping your hair wrapped around his calloused fingers. 

   You open your mouth wide, taking him back in your mouth while he slowly guides you down against him. You hollow your cheeks, opening your throat as he takes you down down down until your nose is grazing against the coarse, dark hair at the base of him. When you come back up again, breathing fresh air through your nose, he asks if you’re okay. When you nod your head yes, he smirks and takes you back down. 

   He speeds up his movements, guiding you back and forth down on his messy cock as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. The pacing is swift, erratic, desperate as he drives your mouth down on him over and over again. You’re so fucking full of him that obscene, squelching noises are coming out of your throat while you mouth fuck him again and again and again. You’re drowning in your own saliva, the drool pooling out of your throat and onto his large length while you gag and choke on his massive cock. 

   You can’t hear the thumping music out on the dance floor anymore, can only hear his stifled moans and the throat fucking noises reverberate across the dimly lit private room. Your eyes water, mascara running down your eyes while his hand tightens and pulls firmly on your hair, your own moans filling the space while you slip one hand under your dress while the other grips the end of his shirt. 

   You circle your aching clit, feeling pleasure run through your body while he ruts his hips into your mouth and chokes on another heated moan. “Look at you, angel. Already soakin’ again, yeah? Chokin’ on this fat cock made you wet again, hmm?” he teases as he lifts your mouth up and watches the drool pool from your tired mouth. 

   “Mhm, it did,” you nod as the breath leaves your body, his salty taste still lingering in the back of your throat while your hand goes back to slowly working him up and down. 

   You moan out in pleasure, feeling the precipice of your orgasm about to wash over you as he watches with wrecked black eyes. “Gonna cum again, angel?”

   “Ye- yeah,” you pant as you feel the white hot sensation start to take over, feeling your muscles collapse beneath your knees as he places a sturdy hand on your shoulder to keep you from falling over. “Joelllll,” you scream as he works you through your orgasm.

   “Oh, fuck yeah, sweetheart. Such a good girl spillin’ for me again. There ya go, what an angel,” he purrs as you fight to keep your eyes open, feeling the aftershocks of a fourth orgasm in just under an hour. You’ve never cum this many times, but also you’ve never met a man like Joel. A pure menace that keeps you on your toes. 

   He keeps you upright while you lean into his meaty thighs, one hand languidly stroking him up and down while the slick and drool collects in your palm. “Joel,” you whine with a pathetic cry that whimpers from your throat. 

   “What do ya need, sweetheart? Tell me what you want,” he coaxes, his thick fingers massaging the back of your shoulders gently. 

   “Want to… want to finish you off. Wanna make you cum,” you groan out. 

   He looks down at you, gentle brown eyes gazing through you as a light chuckle comes from his lips. “You seem pretty tired, darlin’. You sure you can…”

   “Yes,” you snap, eyes heating into his like a swirling fire. “Let me finish you off. Gag me, Joel. Fuck my mouth, please,” you beg.

   He chuckles out, eyes blowing back out as he smirks your way. “Such a dirty girl, ain’t ya? Alright, sweetheart. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll jus’ give ya what you want.”

   He grabs a fistful of your hair, holding you in place as he brings his weeping cock up to your mouth and thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat while you gag and swallow him whole, his massive cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. You sit there and take it, on your knees while your hands dig into the meat of his thighs. 

   His thrusts speed up, snapping his hips into the air as he grunts and swallows your name on elated moans. “That’s a good fuckin’ girl, yeah. Takin’ me so well, sweetheart. Goddamn,” he grunts as he thrusts harder into the back of your throat. 

   He’s so close, you can feel it by the winded breaths and breathy moans, his body coming to life every time he ruts up into you. It’s like he’s everywhere all at once, his salty cum sliding down your hot throat as you feel him about to burst. 

   “Fuck, I’m not gonna last any longer, angel. I’m gonna… gonna cum,” he huffs as he tightens his fist through your messy curls. You inhale his musk, the smell of sweat and sex consuming you while he mouth fucks you nice and hard. 

   Just when you feel like you’re about to run out of breath, he thrusts deep inside your throat, your nose gliding against the base of his coarse hairs when you feel his cock spasm around the back of your throat. Before you know it, hot ropes of white cum are filling you, shooting down your closed up throat as you drink his salty release down. 

   “Christ,” he groans as he releases the last of his cum, filling you nice and full with the white spurts of him. 

   He releases his grip in your hair, pushing you back as he slowly slides out of your drool encased throat. When you finally take a breather, you cough a few times, choking on nothing until you’re panting out in raspy breaths. 

   You see him tuck himself back into his boxers, sliding his jeans up his hips as he zips himself back up and reaches down, cupping your chin as he takes a good look at the absolute wreck he made you. 

   “Look at you,” he laughs, gazing into your tear soaked eyes while his thumb gently grazes against your drool covered mouth, lip gloss covering half your chin. “Really did a number on ya, huh?” he teases. 

   “Looks like it,” you smile. 

   He smiles back, and it’s so warm that you have to stop and take a long, deep breath. He’s positively radiating right now, and it makes something tug hard inside your core. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he asks. 

   He unbuttons the red collared button-up quickly, throwing his pristine white t-shirt over his head. And you can’t help but gawk at his tanned, glowing skin and the ripped muscles he has against his broad chest. He’s fucking gorgeous, he almost doesn’t even look real. 

   “C’mere,” he chuckles as he takes the soft t-shirt and cleans you off, running the cotton material against your messy mouth, your rainy eyes, your clumpy mascara, your sweat covered forehead. He’s so gentle with his large hands, almost delicate as he traces every inch of your face until you’re all cleaned up. You can’t help but stare at him the entire time he takes care of you. You’ve never had this, never known this. 

   Why was he doing this for you? Surely he’d just leave you to clean up after yourself, but he doesn’t. He does it for you. 

   “There ya go, all better,” he smiles gently, his caramel eyes a lighter brown as he stares back at you, something warm and admirable in his flecked starry eyes. It’s nothing like you’ve seen before. It’s new, uncharted territory. “Feel better?”

   “Yeah,” you say in a daze, still on your sore knees while you stare up at him, eyelashes batting slowly. 

   “Good, that’s good,” he nods slowly, thumb still trailing along your jawline smoothly. It’s like you’re in a fog, your mind racing at whatever this is. He’s a menace, but he’s also so, so… caring. You almost can’t say the word. 

   He throws on his silky shirt again, butting the small buttons as he covers his tanned, hairy chest. You almost mourn the loss of his sweaty, glistening chest. 

   “What are you still doin’ on the floor?” he laughs as he scoots over to the edge of the couch, leaving the left side open for you. 

   “Oh, I don’t know. Guess I got stuck,” you giggle as you shake your head, but honestly you’re just so tired, and you can’t stop looking at his mess of curls and honey colored eyes that you want to slip into. 

   “Well, c’mon now. Let’s get you up. C’mere.” He lifts you up off the hard floor, turning you around to where you’re facing the opposite way. He leans back into the armrest of the chair, parting his legs as he scoops you up into his lap and pulls his arms around your waist while one hand gently slides up and down your bare right arm, his fingertips trailing against smooth skin. 

   Your body is so confused, muscles tensing with every stroke of his thumb. You shouldn’t stiffen up, shouldn’t shy away from him because he feels so warm, but yet your body doesn’t even know what’s happening. Why is he being so soft, so gentle? Your mind must be playing tricks on you. This isn’t normal. At least not normal for you…

   Joel immediately notices your tight, strained muscles and carefully grips your shoulder. “Hey, why are you so tense? Hmm?” he asks with knit together brows, looking down at you with concern lathered all in those syrupy eyes. 

   You shrug, giving him your best perplexed look at you flutter your long lashes up at him. “I don’t know, guess I’m just known to be a little tense,” you whisper out, your eyes still staring up into those pools of warmth. 

   He smiles at you, chuckling out as he rubs the back of your neck, his thick fingers feeling like magic as they gradually dance over your smooth skin. “Relax,” he coaxes as he slides you up further on his lap, resting one arm lazily over your hip and the other drawing gentle circles in the crease of your arm. 

   Relax. The word slips through you, pulling every tense muscle out of its binds, releasing you slowly from any worries or anxiety in your buzzing mind. You’re here with Joel, you can relax. You don’t have to always go into fight or flight mode after being physical. This is a safe space. He is a safe space. 

   You nuzzle into the middle of his chest, resting your hand on the warm button-up as your hand brushes right over his beating heart. You can feel it beat a million miles an hour, the galloping hooves pumping in his veins. You also feel your own heart, steady and pacing wildly, and they start to mix together slowly. 

   Thump, thump, thump. It’s like your beats almost match his. A swift race of only two bodies colliding into the other, both running toward the other until you mesh into one. Two falling stars predestined to fall together. Binary stars.

   You nestle your cheek into the cotton of his button-up, your hand slipping under his shirt as you feel hot, sticky skin and the flex of strong muscles. He flexes his arm across your back and languidly strokes up and down your spine, calming you of any tension and putting your tired muscles at rest. 

   He smells so good, woodsy pine scents sticking to his flannel, sweet whiskey collecting on his tongue, and maybe the hint of some kind of tobacco in his hair from the wild crowd outside this room’s door. You get so lost in his scent that you just now realize he’s stroking the back of your head, fingers combing through your locks of hair as he caresses your lower back with his other hand. 

   You close your eyes, breathing him deep as you relax into his soothing touch, feeling every brush of his calloused fingertips as he rubs the back of your head gently. Your eyes flash open when you realize just what this is. Aftercare. 

   Aftercare? Joel was giving you… aftercare? But why? No one had ever given you that. Why would he want to give you that? 

   He rips you out of your distant thoughts, his deep, gravelly voice blowing gently through your ear. “You okay?” he asks as he trails his index finger up and down your wrist. You wish he’d never stop. 

   “Mhm,” you hum as you nuzzle into his arm, wrapping yourself around it as you hear him chuckle lightly above you while his head comes to rest on the top of your head. 

   “You thirsty?”

   “Yeah, actually,” you murmur against the cotton material rubbing softly against your cheek. 

   “Alright, let me jus’ go grab some water for you, sweetheart.” He shifts his weight carefully, sliding out from underneath you as he positions you against the soft cushion of the couch. “You gonna be alright if I’m gone for a few minutes?”

   You flick your eyes up to his and nod sleepily. “Mhm.”

   “Okay, angel. Be right back.” 

   Before he goes, he softly caresses your cheek with the back of his hand and then makes his way toward the door. He tugs it open, allowing the flow of carrying music to enter the room until he closes it gently, making the loud music suddenly go silent. 

   You breathe out a sigh, relaxing into the black leather as you place your fingers against the seat of the cushion. You still smell him, that whiskey and woodsy scent you could get drunk off. It engulfs you, makes you drunk with need. And then you feel that low tug when you think of those smoldering dark eyes and that lazy, crooked smile that seems to send your heart into a full on race. 

   You’re getting attached to him. You shouldn’t, you don’t need another shattered heart. But maybe Joel would be different, he is different. So maybe you need to let your concrete walls down again. Maybe for him you would…

   You close your eyes, concentrate on soothing the growing ache in between your legs, breathing in his cologne that’s left lathered in the leather on the couch. It’s soothing, almost like a bedtime melody that can hum you to sleep. You’re so close to fading off, drifting into a calm sleep until you hear the rustling noise of a door being opened and the sound of party goers float through the dimly lit room. 

   Once you push yourself to a sitting position, Joel joins you next to you on the couch, skimming his denim jeans against your bare leg. “Sorry I took so long. Thought you might be hungry, too.”

   Before you can ask what he means, he brings a basket of golden chicken fingers around his side and hands it to you, while his big brown gaze smiles back at you. Your mouth drops open, and you gawk at him. Chicken? He remembered what you said.

   Blinking once, twice, three times in shock, you finally reach out and grab the red basket while your fingertips brush against his. “Chicken fingers? I didn’t think you had any food here? I thought you said…”

   He laughs and places his hand on your thigh softly. “Well, if I remember correctly, some random girl just waltzed in here last weekend and started complaining ‘bout there not bein’ any food. Specifically chicken.” 

   He raises his brows and smirks your way, continuing his conversation. “She got me thinkin’ maybe I could use a private menu, somethin’ not open to the public jus’ yet. Maybe she wants to try it out first, hmm?”

   You narrow your eyes playfully, grabbing a piece of a fried chicken finger and breaking off half. “Yeah? Maybe she does want to try,” you say flirtatiously. When you take a bite of the delicious goodness, you can’t help but groan at the taste of it. “Holy shit, this is really good,” you reply with a little bounce in your seat. 

   He chuckles and smiles, grabbing the other half from your hand and bites into it. “Yeah? That good?” he laughs as he folds himself back into the cushion of the couch. 

   “Yeah,” you reply with a smile wide on your face. 

   He changed the signs for you, made chicken for you, made you feel pleasure like you’ve never known before in your life, gave you aftercare. Joel was… something out of a dream. So charming, handsome, dominant but yet so soft. You really needed to be careful with this one. 

   The red embers in the fire crackle in the corner while you and Joel talk about books, hobbies, music, your likes and dislikes. And it’s so easy as you fall back into laughter with him, flirting and smiling to each other while the both of you sip on iced waters and finish off the crispy chicken. 

   “Why’d you do it?” you ask quietly, after the chicken is finished off and you sit with your legs sprawled across his lap, his calloused fingers running slowly up and down your smooth skin.

   “Do what?” he asks, cocking his head to the side as those pools of honey flood your mind. 

   “The pink signs, the chicken, and whatever else you changed that I didn’t notice.”

   He looks at you a minute, his honey eyes glazing over yours while his greying scruff catches the dimly lit lighting of the glowing room. And it looks like he’s contemplating if he wants to say anything or not. He slightly shrugs and smiles over at you. “Guess it jus’ took a special girl to open my eyes.”

   “Oh,” you gulp. 

   Special girl? He thinks you’re special? Oh. 

   His eyes never leave yours, those smoldering brown eyes you can’t get enough of. And you’re afraid you’re already falling hard. 

   You nod to his pocket that he stuffed your panties in and raise an eyebrow at him. “You gonna give me those back, Mr. Club Owner?” you tease as he smirks over at you with a devilish glint to his dark eyes. 

   “I don’t think so, angel. Think I might jus’ keep ‘em. Besides, they look better off you,” he winks as your cheeks flush red. 

   You shake your head and laugh. “You’re a menace, Joel. You know that?”

   He throws his head back and chuckles loudly as his laugh carries around the large room. You love it, the sound of his deep, infectious laugh. You’re in big trouble, and you know that now. But there’s no going back now, it’s too late for that. He’s already had a taste of you, and you want more.

Tags: @pedroswife69 @littlevenicebitch69 @laramari71 @laramc-02 @yxtkiwiyxt

@mymiller @vivian-pascal @bbyanarchist @keylimebeag @joelalorian

@akah565 @vividispunk @jasminedragoon @lilynotdilly @southernbe

@dugiioh @axshadows @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @almodovarispunk

@syd-djarin @tuquoquebrute @movievillainess721 @pedrostories @clownd1ck

@sawymredfox

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[spiderlilyserendipity]

Responsibility 🔞🖤

**Minors DNI! This is content for adults only! To read my SFW works, please see my masterlist.**

Summary: You’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. Luckily for you, Hoseok knows you well enough to know when you need pampering.

Tags: Dom!Hoseok, Sub!Y/N, minimal plot, established relationship, dollification, safe words established, she calls him owner, PRAISE!!!!!, nonverbal sub space, oral (m. recieving), multiple orgasms (f. recieving), breeding kink (I didn't even mean to put it in this fic I swear but I can't fucking stop myself anymore send help), aftercare!!!, light angst (oopsie ✨), fluff at the end.

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t do that obviously lol)

W/C: 3970 (3.9K)

A/N: Hello everyone!! Sorry I disappeared once again, I just realized the last time I posted here was in NOVEMBER???? For the amount of BTS x Y/N writing I do it doesn't add up... I have been in a veryyyy big writer’s slump ALTHOUGH I have made some really good progress with a bigger series I hope to get out to you guys soon! These last few weeks have been a bit rough for me, so here is something a bit chiller with my beloved Dom!Hoseok x Y/N.

You’re in one of those moods again where everything feels too much.

It’s not necessarily your fault, but you’ve always had a hard time asking for help when you need it, and it doesn’t seem to get better as time goes by. You’ve known this about yourself for a long time, but you can’t help but get trapped in it. 

It starts for you with a big project at work. You only volunteered to help out because no one else did, and it led to you being given more responsibility than your payroll even calls for. Initially, you tried to back out of it and make excuses, but your boss pushed forward with his own agenda and you never could. Now, you’re stuck doing work that isn’t really even yours without extra pay and with significantly more stress.

You’ve regretted it since the start, but you thought you’d be fine until today. 

Today, you made a small mistake and your boss chewed you out for it in front of everyone. It wasn’t even a big deal, but your boss was in a bad mood to begin with and you just happened to be the person in the line of fire. But that small incident flared up something inside you—a deeply rooted fear of not being good enough.

And now, you find yourself plummeting down a rabbit hole of negative self-talk that really has nothing to do with work or anyone else. It has to do with you. 

“What are you doing spacing out?” Hoseok’s laugh jolts you out of your thoughts. You look away from the TV, where your boyfriend is smiling warmly down at you. “Had a long day at work?”

You purse your lips. You don’t really want to get into it. It’s a bad habit, but you don’t like to drag Hoseok into your negativity. He has enough stress at his own job. “No, just tired.” You lie, getting off the couch.

“Y/N.” Hoseok says your name, wrapping a hand around your wrist. His voice is low, worried. You avoid his eyes. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.” You lie again, but you know Hoseok can see right through you. Of course he can, after all these years together.

You take a quick shower in the ensuite bathroom of your shared bedroom, then step out and run yourself a bath as a treat after a long day. You smile to yourself at the array of different bath bombs Hoseok keeps stocked for you, picking out one with a candy-like scent for tonight. 

You drop the bath bomb in the water, watching it fizz and turn the water a shimmery baby pink. You step back in, sinking down into the hot water with a sigh. It’s not enough to take away the negative thoughts in your head, but it does take the edge off. 

You’re almost dozing off in the bath when the bathroom door opens. Hoseok steps inside, then closes the door behind him. “That smells so good.” He comments, taking a seat on the closed toilet lid beside you. 

You smile. “Yeah.”

The air is still slightly tense between you. Hoseok watches your face for a moment, then smiles. “This scent is nice, isn’t it? I’m glad I listened to the salesperson.” He asks, rolling up his sleeves. You wonder what he’s doing when he leans in and begins to massage your shoulders. “You’re too tense, though.” He comments under his breath.

You look away. With one small touch, Hoseok breaks down your walls. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble. 

“Don’t deserve what, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks gently, his thumbs now working into the dips of your collarbone.

You shake your head, feeling overwhelmed. “Everything. Don’t deserve your touch.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok asks in a low, patient voice that sends heat to your core. You know exactly what he’s doing, and although you want it, you can’t let yourself have it. You try to push away, to reach for the tub’s stopper and drain the bath away. But Hoseok stops you with a firm hand over your wrist. “I’m not done yet, sweetheart.” He warns you gently, pushing you back against the tub.

Hoseok’s eyes flicker down to your cleavage, but he doesn’t touch you there yet. He can still see the hesitance in your eyes, the self-doubt that makes you fear submission to him. “It seems like you have a lot of thoughts in your head right now. Would you like me to give you a break, to let me do all the thinking? And you get to relax, just like a pretty little doll?” He purrs, causing you to rub your thighs together. 

In the low light, Hoseok’s eyes glint with satisfaction at the effect his words have on you. “Oh, you would like that. Unfortunately I need to hear a special word before I can do that. Does my pretty girl remember what that word is?”

“Candy.” You murmur. 

Hoseok beams, running a hand through your hair. “Good girl.” He emphasizes, making the fire in your belly burn brighter. “What a gorgeous doll I own.”

You gasp softly as Hoseok’s hands move down to cup your breasts, toying with your nipples. “Owner.” You whisper.

“Yes, doll?” Hoseok replies easily, continuing to rub the now-hard nubs. 

“It’s cold.” You whisper. By now, the hot water has become lukewarm and you’re starting to get chilly. Hoseok hums, leaning in to kiss your breasts. 

“Is that right?” He coos at you. His hands move down your torso, then part your thighs. You whimper as Hoseok plays with your clit, then drags a finger along your entrance. “Hmm…Feels nice and warm here though.” Hoseok makes an expression of fake-confusion, then slides a finger inside. You whine, gripping his forearm with both of your hands. 

Hoseok chuckles, then kisses your forehead. He cups your mound, looking directly at you as he does it. “I don’t think I want to get my clothes wet. Let’s get you up and dressed.”

With that, Hoseok pulls the stopper. You watch the water drain down, until you’re left sitting in the empty tub. Hoseok stands, then puts a hand under your chin, guiding you to stand. His eyes move down your naked body, full of controlled lust. He has you step out of the tub, then picks a towel off the shelf. “So wet.” He chides, taking your hand in his and drying each finger diligently. You watch him as he carefully works his way up your arm, then dries your armpit for you. He repeats the motion on the other side. 

Then, Hoseok pushes your chin up, expecting you to look up. You obey. He dries off your neck, then your collarbones. You whine as he takes his time with your breasts, thumbing at them through the towel. “So, so wet.” Hoseok chides, then pinches one nipple. “This is why pretty things like you are hard work. If owner forgets to take good care of you, you become so messy. Isn’t that right, doll?”

“Yes, owner.” You murmur.

Hoseok lightly guides your chin down, allowing you to look at him again. “But messy girls are fun, too, because then owner has fun cleaning you and setting you straight.” He says, forcing your thighs apart to dry off your inner thighs. You purse your lips as he takes his sweet time drying your thighs and calves. Hoseok smiles up at you as he wipes off your feet. “It’s been so long since I got you a mani-pedi. I should do that, then take you out and get you some outfits. We can stop by a jewellery store, too. TIffany’s? No, maybe Cartier would be better.”

You listen quietly as Hoseok talks to himself, appraising your body as he does. You’re not meant to voice your opinion for things like this—you’re meant to take what he gives you. You let Hoseok turn you around, then begin wiping down your back. It’s mindless, but that’s the point. To submit, to gratefully take what you’re given. But you can’t help the nagging voice in your mind. “Don’t deserve it.” You mumble. Hoseok’s hands pause.

Hoseok scoffs. “How can a doll know what their worth is? What, are you some kind of AI?” He comments, continuing to work at you. 

“Deserve punishment.” You mumble. “I’m bad.”

Hoseok hums as if he agrees, then puts a hand on your ass. You flinch and he notices. “Do you think I’d play with a bad doll?” Hoseok whispers, his voice dangerous in your ear. 

You answer immediately. “No, owner.”

“That’s right!” He says cheerfully, turning you back around. Taking your face in one hand, Hoseok grins at you, but warning flashes in his eyes. “My doll doesn’t get punished. My doll is a good girl who listens and takes what I give her. Has owner been slacking in pampering his doll that she’s forgotten who she belongs to?”

“No, owner.” You repeat. 

Hoseok looks displeased. You feel the urge to cry, hating his displeasure. You want to be good, but you don’t feel good enough!

Hoseok takes your hand and guides you into the ensuite closet. Still naked, you stand with your hands clasped as Hoseok (still fully dressed) opens a bag at the back of the closet, one you’ve never seen before. He pulls out two pieces of lingerie—one is a simple pair of white silk panties, and the other is a white, translucent babydoll with a small white bow in the middle. Without asking if you like it, Hoseok comes over to you and lifts you up onto the island in the closet. He puts the panties on you first, then the top. “So pretty.” He says, then rubs your cheek proudly. You preen at his touch.

Hoseok brings you to the bedroom next, sitting you down in front of your vanity. He hums to himself as he picks up your comb and brushes your hair. He decides to do a French braid tonight, then ties it in place with a little bow hair tie at the bottom. You both know it won’t look like that soon. “Such a pretty thing.” He praises you, eyes boring on you in the mirror. He taps your lips once, and you open your mouth. Hoseok spits in your mouth, then settles a hand on your throat. “Swallow.” He orders, then beams as he feels your throat bob from swallowing.

The dom reaches between your legs again, moving aside your underwear as he slips a finger into you again. By now, you’re much wetter. Hoseok laughs, then holds your face in one hand, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. You watch your own helpless face as your dom fingers you with amusement on his face. “So weak. Is this all you can take?”

“Owner, owner—” You whimper, putting a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he slips another finger inside. 

“What, now you remember who owns you?” Hoseok asks, reaching down with his free hand to rub at your clit. He laughs at your fucked out face. “Dolls can’t come without permission. You should know that by now, sweetheart.”

“Owner, please, please let me come, please—” You plead.

“Five. Four.” Hoseok counts you down. You bite your lip, trying to hold back. “Three, two, one, now.” 

Your whole body shakes as Hoseok works you through your orgasm. You feel come drip out of you, wetting your panties and the chair underneath you. But you don’t care at all, not with Hoseok murmuring praises in your ear. “What an obedient little cunt, just like I trained you. It’s like you were made to belong to me.”

You whine. Hoseok has you stand up, turning you half-sideways. You look in the mirror as the dom runs his clean hand down your hair gently, then rubs both hands over your hips. You breathe in sharply as you meet Hoseok’s eyes. He smirks, then digs his hands into your asscheeks, slightly spreading you. “What a messy girl. Only took two fingers and you’re all shiny down here.” He laughs, running a finger over your inner thigh, where your pre-come coats the skin. 

“Owner.” You mumble against Hoseok’s collarbone. 

He beams. “Yes, my doll?”

You both know what you want, but you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. It’s not your place to ask him to fuck you, since you’re meant to let him do as he pleases. So instead, you just press yourself in against him, placing your cheek against his collarbone. Hoseok knows what you mean without saying it. He presses a kiss to your hair, then presents his left hand—still covered by your juices—to your mouth and sticks his thumb in. You suck obediently, looking directly at your dom. “Such a useful mouth.” He purrs. You let out a small sound at his praise. Hoseok withdraws his thumb, then switches to give you his index and middle fingers. As you do that, the dom meticulously straightens your hair, ensuring not a hair is out of place. Finally, he gives you his ring and pinky finger to lick. You don’t miss the emerald and diamond ring on his ring finger—ensuring to get your juices out of every crevice around the ring. Hoseok’s jaw tightens at the sight. 

The dom intertwines your hands, then brings you over to the bed. Using his free hand, he pulls back the covers, then guides you under. You watch Hoseok grab the TV remotes and return. You glance at the hard member in Hoseok’s pants as he sits in bed next to you. Knowing what you’re thinking, Hoseok pulls his pants and underwear down in one go—revealing the hard, leaking member. “I wonder if that movie is out yet…” Hoseok says to no one in particular, pretending to be interested in finding some movie. Without saying a word, Hoseok entangles a hand in your hair, guiding you down toward his member under the covers. Your breath sharpens at the feeling of being used to pleasure him as he watches a movie, just a little thing for him to control.

You start to lick from your position at his side, but Hoseok frowns at you. Your eyes widen. Have you done something wrong? “Hmm…” He says, then reaches down and hooks a finger into the hip part of your panties. Using them, he pulls you down so you’re sitting on his calves. He lets go, then returns the hand to your hair. For added effect, he tucks the covers in around you, leaving just your head up for you to suck him off. You whimper, loving the feeling. You’re his toy, his doll. 

You begin sucking Hoseok off, doing your absolute best to please him as you work at him with your mouth and cup his balls with your hands. Hoseok runs a hand through your hair gently, idly, like he’s barely paying attention when you know he couldn’t care less about what’s on screen. Even like this, you know you’re his priority. 

You lick the slit of his member and Hoseok hisses. “Oh, that’s it.” He praises you, tightening the hand in your hair slightly. “What a good girl. So useful.”

You moan, accidentally pressing yourself down against his calf. Hoseok notices immediately. “Is my doll getting restless? Is me playing with your mouth not enough?”

“No, owner. I-I’m grateful.” You protest weakly. 

Hoseok’s eyes glint dangerously. “Yeah? Then why are you rubbing yourself against my leg like a puppy in heat?” He sits you up, bringing you onto his lap. You purse your lips as Hoseok feels how wet you are again with his hand. “Good girls don’t hide their feelings, sweetheart. You know that.”

“Yes, owner.” You say, looking at him through your lashes. 

Hoseok tsks. He slots his thigh between your legs. You sigh as he pushes up against you, loving the feeling of his hot skin against your aching clit. “If it feels good, you need to show me, sweetheart. Now, look at me and show me how good it feels. And don’t look away.” He orders. You swallow. Hoseok settles a hand to the back of your neck, holding you firmly. You slowly begin rubbing yourself against his thigh, looking directly at your dom. Hoseok watches you intently, ignoring the movie playing in the background. The lust in his eyes is illuminated by the changing colours from the screen. 

Your desperation mounts embarrassingly fast with Hoseok watching you rub yourself against him. Knowing that, Hoseok taps your chin, indicating for you to open your mouth. You take his thumb in your mouth, sucking as best as you can but you’re not consistent—the seal you form around his thumb is broken all too often by the moans and sighs you let out. Hoseok smirks at that, knowing you can’t handle it. “Suck properly.” He orders. You swallow, then wrap your lips properly around his thumb. “That’s it. Who’s my good little slut?” Hoseok asks.

You whine, grinding faster. “Is it you?” He teases. “Hmm…I thought my doll knew how to come when I told her though. Let’s see. Come now.”

With a single order, you get your release. Your whole body shakes, and Hoseok pulls you in close. He wraps his arms around you, using one hand to cup the back of your head as you shake from your orgasm. “So obedient. Just like I trained you. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“Thank you, thank you.” You chant, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You’re almost crying at this point, feeling so taken care of and loved. “So grateful. Thank you, owner.”

Hoseok pulls back slightly, cupping your face in both of his hands. He kisses you, slow and passionate. “Can you handle more, baby?”

“Yes, owner.” You answer, feeling soft. Hoseok’s eyes sparkle. He knows that tone of your voice. You’re slipping further and further into your sub space, and it won’t be long until it’s hard for words to come out altogether. But Hoseok knows your body and your limits. He’ll give you exactly what he knows you can take.

“Go get your plug.” He orders. You crawl to the other side of the bed, reaching into the nightstand. Although the two of you have various toys, you know he means the small toy shaped like a teardrop with a little gem at the flared end. You bring it to him, presenting it with both hands. Hoseok takes it, then guides you to lay down. You lay back, feeling loved and safe. Hoseok will take care of you. He always does. Hoseok leans over you. “Show me your colours.” He says, knowing words are starting to slip away from you already. You squeeze Hoseok’s shoulder once to indicate green, twice for yellow, and three times for red. Hoseok kisses your forehead in praise. “What’s your colour right now?”

You squeeze once. “Such a good listener.” He praises you. He checks you’re ready, then slowly slides into you. You pant as he bottoms out, feeling full. 

“O-Owner.” Your voice comes out weak. “P-Please.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Hoseok reassures you. He allows you to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. “I’ll take good care of you. Fill your womb with my seed.”

You clench around him. “P-Please.” Then, you whine into his ear. “B-Breed me, owner.”

Hoseok growls, planting his hands on either side of your waist. He begins to move slowly, but you know he’s holding himself back for you. “Yeah?” He asks. “Want me to get you pregnant, sweetheart? Take care of you, take responsibility?”

You moan at the idea of being safe and taken care of. For someone who always pushes herself too far, you know deep down you’d love that. And Hoseok knows it, too, even if you don’t know how to ask for it. He knows you. Soon, Hoseok’s thrusts become faster and faster, knowing you’ve adjusted enough for him. Your moans become louder, and the nails you dig into Hoseok’s skin start to leave deeper indents. Soon, you’re arching your back. Hoseok’s own hips start to stutter. He reaches for your hair, tangling a firm hand in it. You sigh happily at his firmness. “Almost there, sweetheart.” Hoseok promises, reaching down to rub your clit. “You can do it, baby. Ready? 3…2…1…Now.”

Your orgasm wracks through you again, making you shake a third time tonight. At the same time, hot seed fills you, making you feel insane with pleasure. Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes, landing on the pillow. Hoseok wipes your cheeks immediately, then pulls you in as he lays on top of you. You feel so safe with him both inside you and on top of you, sandwiched between him and the sheets.

“T-Thank you, thank you.” You repeat, digging your nails into Hoseok’s shoulders. “Thank you, owner. So grateful.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” Hoseok says, smiling at you. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Even though he doesn’t say it, you see the relief in Hoseok’s eyes as you finally smile sincerely tonight. You lay there for some time and catch your breath. You kiss and hold one another, feeling comfortable. Then, Hoseok slowly slides out of you. You shiver as the seed begins to slip out of you, but Hoseok guides it back in with the plug. You clench around it, feeling pleased. “That’s my girl. So proud of you, sweetheart.”

You lay peacefully as Hoseok gets up, leaving the room momentarily. He returns with a glass of water and two granola bars for you. You’re still quite far into your sub space, so words are a bit difficult for you right now. Knowing that, Hoseok just quietly helps you sit up and feeds you your snack. Once you’re done, he carefully helps you drink the water.

“Should we shower now?” Hoseok asks. You purse your lips, looking down at your intertwined hands. He laughs. “Okay. In twenty minutes then.”

You smile, letting Hoseok pull you back under the covers for some cuddles before shower time. “Sweetheart.” Hoseok says, hooking his chin over your shoulder as he spoons you. You hum. “Remember you don’t need to hide from me, okay? If anything is bothering you, you tell me. I won’t think you’re any less good at your job if you talk to me about it, I promise. And although I know you would never give up your passion, I want you to know you don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”

You blink, craning your head to look at your boyfriend. Hoseok (despite the blush on his face) looks resolute. “I’m not kidding when I say I’ll take responsibility for you. I really can take good care of you.”

You giggle. It feels like a proposal. “I know, Hoseokie.” You mumble, cuddling back against him. You sigh, closing your eyes against the pillow as Hoseok gently rubs a hand over your belly. “I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.” Hoseok presses another kiss in your hair. Just then, he glances at the clock. “Okay, twenty minutes over. Let’s go.” He says. You pout, but he just grins at you. “A deal’s a deal, baby. Come on, let me get you cleaned up so I can change the sheets.”

You pout, holding your arms up. Hoseok laughs, tipping his head back. “Actually, I change my mind. I don’t want such a spoiled wife.”

“Too bad.” You mumble with a smile as he scoops you up into his arms like a bride. By now, your headspace has worn off but you feel so soft and content. “You have to take responsibility for me.”

You and Hoseok laugh together as he carries you to the bathroom.

🖤🖤🖤

A/N: Thank you for reading! I'd like to thank the Academy and fucking 2022 Mama red carpet Hoseok for inspiring me to stay up and write this fic when I have work at 8 am (but just look at him AGHHHHHHHHH). Also, requests are open <333

[jiminy-crickets]

I’m sorry but the whole Connor Bedard having an allergic reaction because his trainer wouldn’t let him have fast food reminds me of when sdpn said that Bedard’s mom said he’s never had fast food before and like she said she knew eventually and it IS good for him to not have fast food, but it makes me think of diet culture and eating disorders. Like the no fast food thing still leaves a variety of food, and I’m sure he’s had pizza before; it’s really the fact that he couldn’t even have pizza ONE time with his team because his trainer wanted him to ‘eat healthy’ for the game (guess what due pizza is healthier than having an allergic reaction). Even if he had been on a crazy strict diet and got sick because his body wasn’t used to what’s in pizza, it’d still be healthier than an allergic reaction (and again, clearly he doesn’t care about Connor’s health just what he can do for the trainer’s image because he let him play the game and did care at all about how bad Connor was feeling.)

Like the obsession with food to the point you can’t eat xyz even once is eating disorder behavior, and I think the fact that players have to eat more than non/athletes and are expected/desire to get bigger is one of the reasons why eating disorders aren’t as common, but imagine how this messes with their heads. Like people who are like “oh my trainer is going to be mad at me for eating xyz one time don’t tell them” is like K-pop idols with management that pushed eating disorders to keep idols’ bodies marketable territory. NHL players are adults and now one should care about their diet to the point that they get mad at them for having one meal that goes against their nutrition plan. They are adults who make their own decisions and nutrition plans should a guideline to help players get what they need not a list of DO NOT EAT THIS foods or specific foods they have to eat.

(Also I think the nhl’s concept of ‘team’ is a little too close to the corporate ‘family’ which is always used to dehumanize employees and get them to give up their free time/health/family/identity for the benefit of the corporations bottom line that is never payed back to the employees. Like yes there’s the team as in the players, but there’s also that concept of team that is the pressure to get players to hurt themselves to win and shut up if they experience discrimination and also to shut up if they disagree with the nhl’s safety protocols that aren’t even follow a lot of the time.)

you said everything wonderfully, the ONLY thing i have to add, is this HEARTBREAKING quote.

"people close to him aren't sure he's ever had a cookie"

in fact that article is chock full of the MOST concerning quotes about a hockey player i have ever fucking read, "highlights include" connor stays long after practice and replies "im working" when people try and get him off the ice, when they think he's over working himself they hide his sticks because he's too superstitious to use someone else's (they have done this... multiple times), he tried to convince the coaching staff to let him play though his broken jaw because chara did so during the finals in 2019, he drank as much food and supplements as he could so he wouldn't lose weight while his jaw was still wired shut.

and yes 10000000000 fucking %, the leagues "we're a family" is NASTY, no!!! NO YOU AREN'T!!!!!! stop trying to be "a family" and start trying to be a GOOD EMPLOYER!!!!!!!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + two

authors note: holy shit, i didn't expect so many people to be interested in this story! thank you all so much for the kind comments. this one is heavier than the first, but the following should be a little lighter.

i also just want to clarify something that a few of you mentioned: roman will not be abusive in this story. i know that's a plot used frequently, but it's not my thing, so i just wanna make that clear. :)

he is an ass though.....for now.

also, please, please, please heed to the cw/tw's! i will update them to reflect the content of each update. it's up to you, the reader, to prepare yourself properly by reading them to avoid being triggered.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, a scene of torture, depiction of ptsd, trauma responses (panic attacks), mentions of suicidal thoughts, brief line of dialogue referring to past childhood sexual assault, trauma response due to past childhood sexual assault

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 7k

“You’re going to kill Roman Reigns for us.”

If Solana was capable of feeling and experiencing any emotion other than sadness and fear, she would laugh. 

She would laugh because no one sane truly thinks that they can kill the head of the table, least of all someone like her. But, it really does settle in that her father and brother truly believe that she, of all people, can do something like that.

Can take someone’s life. 

Just the thought alone unlocks a new level of dread and terror. 

Eyes watering, she shakes her head, protesting. “No. I—I can’t do that. I—I won’t.”

Rarely, if ever, does Solana push back on what she’s asked or told to do. It only results in more severe beatings that lead to ER trips vs having to patch herself back up in her bathroom. She’s accepted that acquiescence is always a better alternative. But this….this she can’t get behind.

Wes smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Solana knows exactly what’s about to happen next. Stupidly, she tries to escape, climbing up on her feet and making it centimeters past Wes when he fists her hair, yanking her body back. She hisses in pain and starts to cry and protest as he drags her across the first floor of the house.

“No! P-please! I–I’m sorry!” She begs, all the while Xavier follows lazily behind, keeping his cigar near his mouth. 

“Shut up,” Wes snaps. She cries, heartbeat sporadic, so much so that it’s becoming difficult to breathe. That’s one of the worst things to happen considering what she knows is about to occur. He kicks open the bathroom door, and sure enough, the tub is already full and ready.

“No…..” Wes shoves her toward the tub, kicking her in her back to force her to the knees, Solana’s head banging against the side of the tub. She can only blink two or three times before water is burning her eyes, filling her mouth, drowning her.

Solana flails against Wes whose strong hand holds her down under the water by the back of her head. It’s a wasteless effort, trying to fight against him, when her energy would be better spent trying not to drown.

Not that Wes will allow that. He’s adept at bringing her to the edge of unconsciousness, pulling back just in time to taunt her. And that’s exactly what he does, pulling her head back, finding a level of enjoyment at her violent coughs and tears. 

His favorite form of torturing her.

She’s not sure how long it lasts, only knows there’s a tremendous amount of relief when he finally lets her go long enough for her to plant her palms on the ground to gather herself. 

Xavier, who stood there watching the whole time with pleasure, walks towards her. Solana gasps and moves her body back against the tub, wanting as much distance between the two of them as possible.

His face is blank, no emotion in his eyes. “You either kill Reigns.” Solana’s eyes shut as Xavier caresses her wet cheek. “Or we kill you.”

It’s impossible to hold back her tears, as Solana breaks down in front of her father and brother, the both of which simply walk away with an astounding amount of indifference. 

They slam the bathroom door shut, allowing her the privacy of at least deteriorating without their judgmental glares. 

Pulling up her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them, she sobs into her thighs, confused as to just how in the hell she ended up in this situation.

Solana isn’t a killer. Has never even had the desire to kill anyone. Not even the two men who just made it abundantly clear that her only two options are to kill or be killed.

Just how all of this is supposed to work is beyond her. Roman is a boulder of a man, body covered in ropes of pure muscle with a kill count that rivals some of the world’s leading assassins. She’s barely 5'1, can’t seem to get the scale to budge no matter how many diets she tries, and trembles in the presence of anyone who has an XY chromosome combination.

Many have tried to kill Roman, and all have failed, meeting gruesome, torturous deaths. 

What chance does she have?

————

Any prayer sent up requesting some type of divine intervention to stop this unholy union is either denied, ignored, or planning to be answered at a much later date and time, because the next two weeks speed by faster than the speed of light.

Solana’s days are filled with wedding preparations that require little to no of her say in what she wants. Not that that’s any different from most things in her life.

Granted, there’s a small part of her that mourns when she’s presented with her wedding dress.

The dress she doesn’t want to wear for a wedding she doesn’t want to have. There’s an alarming lack of autonomy that suddenly feels so much heavier and suffocating despite it being a consistent, dominant theme in her life.

A large part of her recognizes how it’s probably largely due to the whole reason why all of this is happening.

Her father and brother want control of the bloodline.

Objectively speaking, she can see why this would be a goal. It’s everyone’s goal. To have control and power over the most powerful crime family in the entire continent. Maybe beyond. The Bloodline’s true stretch has never really been made public, per se. She’s certain that’s partially what makes them so dangerous. One can never really know who is a member and who is not, who has ties and who is an enemy.

A secret that gives them a forever advantage.

The day of the actual wedding, like everything else, comes much quicker than Solana feels prepared for. Truthfully, she doesn’t feel prepared for any of this, doesn’t want any of this, but much like most things in her life, her wants and desires don’t matter.

No one cares to hear them, and no one definitely cares to respect them. 

On the day of the wedding, shortly after arriving at the church, she’s left alone in one of the back rooms. Someone mutters something about the makeup artist and hairstylist to come in shortly before slamming the door and leaving her by herself. That’s mostly a bad thing. Being alone with the thoughts she’s been having lately……they typically don’t result in anything good. 

Overwhelmed and in her head too much, Solana grabs her purse and takes out the latest journal she’s been working out of.

And she writes.

Dear Mom,

Today is my wedding day. I should be happy. You should be here. None of that is the case though. The truth is that I feel so empty. This won’t turn out well. I either try to kill Roman and he ends up killing me as a result or I refuse and dad and Wes kill me.

There is no outcome where I make it out of here alive.

And mama, I know you always told me to never forget that life is a gift, but mine isn’t. It hasn’t been since they took you from me.

And truthfully……I don’t think I really care anymore.

Life is hard. Maybe this is a blessing in disguise.

I’d rather be with you instead.

The knock on the door startles Solana as she hurriedly moves to close up her notebook, stuffing it back in her purse as she calls out for whoever is on the other side to enter. The door slowly swings open as Solana quickly swipes at her eyes, feeling the burning of pending tears.

She can’t let them see her cry though.

No matter how badly she wants to.

While Solana expects another set of hard eyes and an indifferent scowl, she’s met with a woman around the same age as her with half her head shaved, the other side full of dark purple hair that grazes her shoulder.

“Damn, got the right room on the first try. Let’s fucking go.” Solana stands up as the woman walks over, adjusting the black makeup kit on her shoulder. “I’m Bayley.” She extends her hand out for a handshake, and Solana takes a second to reciprocate, caught off guard by her relaxed disposition. The way her smile meets her eyes, not a trace of irritation or disgust in having to assist her.

Solana has only had minimal interaction with representatives of the Bloodline, namely the women who accompanied her at the tailor shop and made comments, most likely about her, in their native Samoan. Nina always taught her daughter not to assume, but it’s hard to not believe cruel things are being stated when they’re conjoined with pointing, eye rolls, and curt exchanges when they needed Solana to move a certain way.

So Solana, understandably, is cautious. 

“Solana,” she shares, shifting in her seat.

“I know,” Bayley snickers, placing her makeup kit on the counter and starting to lay out products. “I’d be a bit of a shitty makeup artist if I didn’t know who the bride was, am I right?”

Solana doesn’t say anything. The silence doesn’t come from a place of rudeness but rather continued confusion. She can’t comprehend why this woman is being so nice to her?

If Bayley is bothered by the lack of responses, she does a damn great job of not showing it. “Now, I have a couple ideas of what look I think I wanna go for with you, but as it’s your big day, what are you thinking?”

That…..that is what triggers another one word responde. 

Cautious, she asks, “me?”

Bayley pauses in the midst of starting to pick out foundation options and leans back against the counter, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. “Arranged marriages suck ass. You already don’t get to pick who you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with. The least you can do is pick out some makeup.”

There’s something so insanely comforting about her otherwise simple words. Something freeing and liberating about being given an option, even if it’s about makeup. For the first time today, Solana actually smiles.

“I—I like neutral colors. Gold…maybe would be okay too.”

And just like that, the deep smile that revealed the dimple in Bayley’s right cheek returns. “Great minds think alike. That’s exactly what I was gonna go for.”

“And—” Solana adds, voice an octave lower, insecurity creeping back in. “If—if you could cover the scar as best you can.”

“What scar?” Bayley gives her a wink before finishing up the laying out of products. “I got you, girl.”

It’s not very often, if ever, Solana feels beautiful. And even when those once in a blue moon moments occur, they’re fleeting or surface level, typically dashed by a cruel comment from her family. But today, standing in front of the mirror, makeup completed, hair done, and dress on, she actually feels beautiful.

The first time she tried on the dress, it was an unpleasant experience for a variety of reasons, on top of the fact that she hated the style. Strapless and form-fitting with a sweetheart neckline. Solana hates her arms and especially bringing too much attention to her chest and body in general.

But conjoined with the hair and makeup, she actually doesn’t immediately want to turn away from the mirror when she sees the outcome.

Bayley comes behind her, still wearing that smile that Solana is now convinced, despite the odds, is genuine. “Reigns is a lucky bastard. You look fuckin’ gorgeous.”

Solana really does mean it when she offers a sincere “thank you.” Bayley’s positive energy is exactly what she needed. It doesn’t change anything, but it definitely does help her not to be consumed by thoughts she hasn’t had since she was a teenager.

“Hey, uhh, I’m sure being married to Mr. Tribal Chief himself means you’ll probably have to make appearances from time to time, hold his arm and shit.” She hands Solana a small piece of paper. Unfolding it, Solana sees numbers scribbled down in red ink. A phone number.  “Ever need glam again for any of it, hit me up. Or even….even if you just need someone to talk to.”

“Thank you.” Solana’s voice is stronger this time, firmer, the small act of kindness traveling such a long way. She holds up one side of her gown to walk over and slide the paper in her purse. 

She’ll make sure not to lose it. 

There’s a hard knock on the door that reminds her where she is. Reminds her that people like Bayley are anomalies. One doesn’t get to experience kindness for too long. Not in her world. 

Solana honestly didn’t expect her father to walk her down the aisle, didn’t see it as something he would have any interest in nor find an exciting opportunity. And those two reasons are very much true, but his desire to issue last minute warnings outweighs both of them.

Xavier’s frame fills the door as he looks at Solana from head to toe. Instantly, he’s scowling with disapproval. 

“Why is her hair not down?”

Solana was partially worried about that. She knows her father has always told her she needs to keep her length so that she can always wear her hair down as it helps to “hide how fat your face is.”

She doesn’t know how wrong or right he is about that, but she’s wanted to cut it for ages, being unable to do so because she knows it’ll upset him.

Bayley, however, doesn’t seem to give two shits about Xavier’s disapproval. “Updo’s are typically better for formal events. Granted, up or down, she still looks beautiful.”

Solana can’t tell entirely if Bayley is defending her work or Solana. Either way, she has a tremendous amount of respect for this woman who doesn’t seem to give two shits about who Xavier Miller is.

If only Solana could do the same.

Xavier cuts his eyes in Bayley’s direction but says nothing, instead walking over to Solana and whispering in her ear. “You should have started your fast three days ago instead of two. You still look fat. Hold your stomach in as you walk down the aisle.”

Any relief or peace felt from her interaction with Bayley is dead the second those cruel words leave his mouth. As soon as he entered the room, really. But Solana doesn’t have time to be sad, because he moves to drop her veil over her face and loops his arm with hers. 

He walks her out of the room, depriving her of a chance to tell Bayley goodbye and thank you again. 

Xavier leads her down the hall, a left, and then a right before they’re standing before the double doors that lead to the sanctuary. She wants to ask for a second to gather herself, feeling the panic starting to rise, but Xavier barks for the guards standing outside the door to open said door.

And they oblige without protest.

The veil is more opaque than she remembers, partially obscuring her view of Roman and the others who wait for her at the end of the aisle. There’s a sea of people on either side of the pews, many and most, Bloodline members. But, she can’t focus on that.

All she can focus on is the low, warning voice of her father. “You will please him and do exactly as he asks.” What other choice do I have? “Earn his trust. We will tell you the rest when the time comes.”

Solana would give anything for that time to never come.

And once they reach the end, before he frees her hand for Roman to take it, he snatches the chance to put on a good display of faux love, leaning over for a hug. Solana instantly tenses at his touch.

“Don’t fuck this up,” he whispers and pulls away with a smile that has her empty stomach knotting.

Swallowing, Solana channels her focus back on Roman. Like the past two times she'd seen him, his hair is neatly pulled back, but unlike those exchanges, he’s dressed to the nines. Expensive, designer suit, all black, the only red in his appearance, the red Ula Fala he wears around his neck. Representation of his status as Tribal Chief, his role in his family’s dynasty.

Solana can admit that he looks good. Very good.

If only everything else just wasn’t so bad.

Roman has no reaction at unveiling her, and Solana can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. She’d like to just say he has no reaction to anything, really, but that’s untrue.

He’s notorious for his angry reactions to the most minute situations sometimes. 

So perhaps no reaction is the best reaction she can receive.

Still, it unsettles her. Has she upset him already?

The two of them are directed to kneel by the pastor, or maybe Shaman, or maybe just an official. She’s not really sure, but whoever he is, he wastes no time in starting with the formalities of the wedding. He says many things, but Solana’s mind is elsewhere, not that it’s an intentional avoidance.

Her father reminding her of the fact that she hasn’t had anything to eat for two days is suddenly bringing on the extreme exhaustion and weakness she’s pretty sure she’d managed to put on the back burner in exchange for mental anguish. 

She’s so incredibly tired. And it feels impossible to be present for the vows or to stand when she’s prompted so by the officiant. It’s even more difficult to stay cognizant enough to acknowledge what’s being asked of her, forced of her, with a set of “I do’s.”

But, it’s when a knife is pulled out that her face pales, flashes of numerous, previous exchanges where that little piece of silver was used to mentally and physically terrorize her. Roman somehow notices this and quietly murmurs, “relax. It’s tradition.”

Before she can speak, the officiant continues. “Now, as are the ways of our ancestors, we shall seal this union before God, family, and all with blood.” Roman offers his hand, palm faced upward and nods at Solana to do the same. Reluctantly, she follows, eyes shutting, not wanting to see whatever is about to happen next.

“Careful,” Roman warns. She’s unsure who it’s directed to, but it’s followed by a brief, burning pain across her palm. She’s been cut, nothing major, but enough to draw blood. 

Her hand is moved followed by instant, coarse, warmth. Eyes opening, she sees that her and Roman’s hands have been joined together.

“In the eyes of the ancestors, you two are now officially bound to one another not just by law, tribal and government, but blood. A curse be placed upon anyone who dares interfere with this marriage.” Separating their hands, Roman takes the red cloth and wipes her palm before his own, tossing it to who she recognizes as his enforcer/cousin, Solo. “And now, you may kiss the bride.”

For whatever reason, probably several good ones, Solana hadn’t thought about this part. The part where Roman would have to touch her, would have to kiss her, in front of everyone.

There’s a quick increase of anxiety and panic that ensues when Roman takes her hand, pulling to force her to angle her body toward him. Her heart is smashing against her chest with the weight of a ton of bricks. 

But just as quickly as the anxiety rushed in, it’s gone because Roman’s head dips lower to hers and his lips are on and off her faster than she can process, than she can freak out over.

She’s unsure about this brief interaction, a possible indication he’s just as uninterested in this union as she is. 

A business arrangement.

That’s what he called it.

That’s what he called her.

Even her hand in his as he leads her down the aisle, stoic expression the polar opposite of one would expect for what should be the happiest day of someone’s life.

She wonders if he views this as the exact opposite.

Because Solana certainly does.

————

Despite her best efforts to power through, the weakness gets worse and is complicated by a sort of dizziness that makes Solana partially grateful her arm is linked with Roman’s. She tries not to show that she’s leaning more on him than her own two feet, not trusting them to give out on her.

But, this man is perceptive as hell, she should know this. One doesn’t get to be where he is, accomplished all he has by being oblivious. 

He’s escorting her into the reception area, already lively and full of people, most of which she doesn’t know, many of which she’s not sure she wants to know. 

But instead of leading her toward an individual or group of individuals, he pulls her to the side, asking in a low but steel voice. “What’s wrong?”

Solana stills. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself, and that’s exactly what she’s done. Trying her best to do damage control, she answers in as firm a voice she can muster. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tire……” Free hand to her forehead, Solana only recalls her eyes briefly closing before her body sways into something hard and firm, arms around her, holding her up.

Roman says something, calls for someone, but Solana is solely focused on centering herself. 

A woman is suddenly standing before her with a deep, beautiful complexion similar to her father’s. However, that’s where the similarities stop, because this woman and her bold makeup is absolutely stunning. 

“You don’t look well,” is the first thing to leave the woman’s frowning mouth.She takes the back of her hand to Solana’s forehead and offers what could be perceived as a sincere, sympathetic smile. “Girl, when was the last time you had something to eat?”

Solana manages to answer, unfortunately being honest when she should probably lie. “Y-yesterday, I think. Maybe—maybe the day before.”

A deep frown falls on her face, but Roman is the first to speak. “Why the fuck haven’t you been eating?”

It’s the irritation and anger in her voice that makes her wince, but Solana can’t account for what makes her eyes dart over to where her dad and brother are watching closely. She does her best to redirect her gaze before Roman notices, but it’s a stupid thought.

He sees everything.

His expression turns dark as he mutters something she can’t hear and then directs the woman. “Naomi, take her to get something to eat.”

Naomi. That’s her name. For some reason, it just fits her. Naomi places her hand on the small of Solana’s back, gently taking her from Roman’s grasp as she starts to guide her away. “Come on. There’s definitely plenty of options to choose from.”

Meanwhile, Roman sets his sights on another goal, knowing Naomi will see to it that Solana is taken care of.

Xavier isn’t a hard man to find. He’s laughing it up with some of the other guests at the wedding who aren’t members of the Bloodline per se, more along the lines of allies. Not that Roman gives a shit. His stride is intentful and purposeful, Solo naturally flanking at his side, Xavier’s gaze falling on them with an insincere smile.

“Ahhh, the groom. Congratulations—”

“Why wasn’t she eating?” All Roman has to do is nod for the other men to disperse, and like ants, they do just that, leaving him alone with Miller and his boy.

Xavier steps forward, lowering his voice and clearly playing up the facade of a concerned, loving father. “I believe she said something about looking her best on her wedding day. And as you can see, Solana is not a small woman. She probably thought that was the best and quickest way. Poor girl.”

Roman has this thing he likes to do sometimes when people think they can get one over on him. He likes to tap into the deeply rooted part of himself that can maintain his temper, keep him from acting on his emotions, and instill some well crafted self-control. He puts all of that on the back burner in favor of something else almost equally enjoyable.

Playing with his prey.

Roman knew five minutes into the conversation with Miller that the man’s death would come at his hands. Preferably sooner rather than later. Xavier is the type of man Roman hates the most. The kind who fails in all important areas of his life and spends the rest of it making others miserable for his shortcomings. The kind of man who refuses to see the simpleton he has for a son yet seems keen on turning him into a mafia head.

It’s almost comical. The amount of delusion.

Wes also decides to answer, chin jutted, shoulders straightening. This actually is humorous to Roman, the fact this kid thinks that he comes off remotely intimidating. That shit may work on his sister, but not the Tribal Chief. 

“Solana’s a grown woman. She does what she wants.”

Xavier shoots his son a warning look. A look indicating that he can’t believe Wes would be foolish enough to challenge the man before him. “Wes….”

This only brings a smile to Roman’s face. He steps toward him, vowing in Samoan. “I’m going to enjoy killing you.” His eyes dart toward Xavier. “The both of you.”

Solo also steps forward, asking in their same native language. “Want me to handle this for you, my tribal chief?” 

Roman shakes his head, advising in a deadly calm voice. “Patience, Solo. I’m going to have my fun first.” 

Xavier is visibly irked by the conversation happening in front of him that he can’t understand. But, he does a decent job hiding that irritation. “Perhaps I should go check on her—”

Roman extends his arm, blocking the man. “No.”

Xavier pauses. “What?”

Roman is suddenly ready to get the fuck out of here. He promised his cousins that he would go the day without killing anyone, but this fucker is pushing it. “She’s my wife. I see to it that she’s fine.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, but he covers it with a tight smile. “She is my daughter.”

“The same daughter you knew was starving herself yet did nothing about it?” Roman’s retort is blunt and to the point. He may plan to play with his prey, but that doesn’t mean he can’t call this man out on his bullshit along the way.

Xavier paints on a face of shock and indignation at Roman’s accusation. “I did—"

Roman is directly to the point, advising in a way that makes it clear there’s no room for debate. “Solana is my responsibility now. Any issues she has, I will handle. Any threats she faces, I will eliminate.” One glance at Wes shows that the younger Miller is struggling to control his temper, hand clenching and unclenching at his side. The impulsive side of Roman wants the kid to try something. This will be a beating he’ll enjoy. Thoroughly. 

The kid is as insufferable as his father.

Roman refocuses himself, talking and directing his conversation to Xavier. “Solana will be unavailable for the next few weeks.”

Roman swears he can see the vein forming in the older man’s forehead. “What? Why?”

“She’s a member of the Bloodline now. She must get familiar with our ways. Any messages you need to relay to her will go through me.”

It’s partially true. But mostly, he wants to fuck with Miller. A man who obviously gets off on control needs to be humbled, Roman knows it must kill Xavier to be humbled by someone younger and more accomplished than himself.

He’s also certain Solana won’t be heartbroken by not being around her abusive piece of shit family. 

“I don’t—”

“When she wants to.” He gestures to Solo, explaining, “Solo will accompany her for any outings she has outside of the estate. That includes your home as well.” 

Roman is certain Solo, if not for his adept skill at maintaining a poker face, would be looking at him with surprise. He’s yet to discuss this with his enforcer, but Roman’s word is law. So however his cousin feels about it is irrelevant. It’s painfully obvious Solana is incapable of keeping herself safe, hence her need for protection.

Solo would be the perfect person for just that.

Xavier clears his throat, wrinkled hand adjusting, loosening his tie. “Is that really necessary?”

“As my wife, she now has a major target over her head. I won’t take any chances.” Roman’s smile is mocking. “This is your daughter, right? Surely, you don’t want me taking any chances.” Roman adds on, partially to continue to twist the knife but also because it’s the truth. “I will keep her safe.”

Regardless of how he feels about this marriage, Solana is now a part of the Bloodline. That means, just like for anyone else in his family, he’ll protect her with his life. It’s his duty to do so.

Xavier’s deep complexion is tinged red. The man is fired up. But still, he knows better than to express that rage to the man in front of him. “That is—-was—-her home. What safer place is there to be?”

Now, Roman is getting pissed off. It’s obvious by the faded bruises and pure terror that Solana exhibits in the presence of her family that she’s anything but safe with them. 

Roman steps towards him. “With me.” Tired of these games, he gets straight to the point. “These are not suggestions. They’re orders. Orders you will obey.” He searches Xavier’s face for any signs of indication that he’d be stupid enough to try something. There’s nothing there. “Am I understood?”

With a clenched jaw, Xavier answers. “Yes.”

Roman’s intense gaze burns into him, his undisputed authority surely a thorn in Miller’s side. “Yes, what?”

“Yes…..my Tribal Chief.”

Roman smiles. Pleased with his assertion of dominance, he turns away, venturing off to find his bride.

Time to get the fuck out of here.

————

Solana spends much longer in the bathroom than necessary. She halfheartedly expects for Roman to come beating on the door, demanding for her to come out and fulfill her wifely duties.

But that moment never arrives, so she values every second of time she’s granted to prepare herself for what she’s refused to think about the past two weeks.

Her wedding night.

Solana knows what’s going to happen, what has to happen, but it doesn’t do anything to help the terror she feels in every corner of her body.

The shower water blends with the tears shed at the thought of what she has to do, the act she can’t even think about without her chest tightening.

She hoped that reminding herself this wasn’t that, that this isn’t that, would help. But, it doesn’t. Because this is Roman Reigns she’s about to be intimate with.

He’s not known for being gentle in any area of his life, and bedroom activities certainly can’t be an exception. That’s when her anxiety grows even stronger, especially as she forces herself to dress in the red lingerie that was provided to her.

The silk robe included provides a slither of comfort, and she makes sure to tie it so it covers as much of her body as possible. A silly act considering Roman will rip it off, along with everything else, the moment he gets her onto the bed. 

It’s only when she’s certain she’s stretched out every bit of patience this man is capable of offering that Solana decides she needs to leave the bathroom. Upsetting him is the last thing she wants to do.

So without an ounce of hope that anything moving forward will be remotely good, Solana hits the light switch and opens the door.

She finds Roman sitting almost slouched in his chair located in the corner of the room. He’s lazily scrolling on his phone when his eyes lift and land on her. She stills. There’s a brief second of a delay when he hits the button on the side of the phone and stands up. 

Solana refuses to focus too much on the fact that he’s about as covered up as she is, wearing only boxers.

Because of his size, it seems he’s across the room directly in front of her in a matter of seconds. Eyes taking her in from top to bottom, he asks, “you good?”

Far from it. 

Regardless, Solana nods.

If only that worked for the head of the table.

She gasps quietly when he brings his hand to her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “I don’t do non-verbals.” His eyes search her face for something she can’t identify. “Words.”

Blinking, she answers with a low, “y–yes.”

He pauses and then demands, “lay down on the bed.”

Solana licks her lips and makes her feet move over to the mattress, climbing on top and clenching her eyes shut as she lays her head back on the pillow.

Her fingers mess with the material of her robe, trying to distract herself from the sound and feel of him climbing on the bed. She doesn’t need to be looking to know he’s above her, intense eyes probably studying her.

His deep voice sounds at the same time she feels his finger glaze across her clavicle. “It’s just sex.”

If only that was true. 

Still, she manages to nod, eyes and mouth snapped shut.

Solana takes in a deep breath that makes her stomach cave when Roman’s lips are pressed against the soft skin of her jawline, moving downward at a tantalizingly slow pace at the same moment his hands move to her robe. 

She releases another shaky breath as her robe comes undone, revealing so much skin, so much of her she’d do anything to keep hidden away.

A thin sheen of sweat is starting to form all over her body. The room is suddenly much hotter than she remembers. There’s difficulty paying attention to what’s happening because her mind is taken to another place, another time.

A much much darker place and time. 

And suddenly, she’s not in Roman’s bed. It’s not him hovering over her, not his mouth on her neck or his hands on her body.

It’s theirs.

His stench is strong and almost sour, breath tinged with alcohol. “You’ve got some fire in you, girl.” A sinister smile reveals yellowish teeth contrasted against pale, dehydrated skin. “But, I like it when they fight back.” His strong fist connects with her jaw, forcing her head to the side and nearly knocking her unconscious. “Rob, come hold her down for me.”

Solana tries her best to stop it, tries to keep it at bay, tries to do what she’s never been able to do prior to this moment but somehow thinks this will be different. It’s a stupid thought, because moments later, she’s hyperventilating, her body feeling like it’s on fire. 

“No!” 

With strength she didn’t know she possessed, Solana shoves them, Roman, whoever, off of her, scrambling to climb off the bed. She’s standing in the middle of the room, doubled over as the demons overcome her.

Hand to her chest, she starts clawing at her neck. 

Deep down, she knew this is what would happen, knew that she’d fall apart the second he started to touch her. 

What she didn’t expect was a set of firm, calloused hands forcing her upright, carefully holding her arms away from her neck where she’s certain she just drew blood. And she definitely doesn’t expect Roman’s intense gaze on her, studying her with what one might consider to be concern.

But, Solana is too caught up in her panic attack to know for certain if it’s concern or not as she realizes that he’s talking to her.

His voice is distant but eventually travels close enough where she can make out words. “Breathe.” She’s still gasping for breath, trying to find that place of regulation as he continues to speak to her in an almost soothing manner. But, that can’t be possible. This is Roman fucking Reigns. Nothing about him is soothing. 

“Look around the room. Tell me five things you see.” 

Solana doesn’t know how, why, or even where she finds the wherewithal to be present for his directions, but she is. She’s even able to follow through. Eyes moving around the room, the first thing she lands on are the double doors leading to the balcony.

With speech still almost an impossible thing, she lifts her arm and points in that direction. 

He doesn’t even turn to see what she’s pointing at. “Keep going.”

Confused but also not wanting to make things worse by being disobedient, she scans the room, settling on the dresser. Solana points again.

Roman’s eyes bounce from her eyes to her mouth. “Three more.”

At some point in this random exercise, Solana’s breathing began to regulate, so much so that instead of pointing to the chair in the corner of the room, she whispers, “the c-chair.”

His voice grows seemingly softer. “Two.”

The next thing to catch her attention is the painting on the wall, and it’s after she does so, Roman provides her with a reminder that she still has one more. And when she points to the ceiling fan, he provides another set of directions, tasking her to identify four things she can touch.

She struggles initially, realizing she can use herself, going on and identifying several and actually feeling various parts of herself, like her hair and robe. 

And when she’s asked about three things she can hear, it’s only then that she realizes something she’d missed in the midst of following his guidance. 

She realizes that she can breathe.

Solana can actually breathe. That anchor isn’t on her chest, weighing her down to a state of unconsciousness, that heat that made her feel like flames were lapping at her body is extinguished. 

She almost….she almost feels calm. 

While panic was the dominant emotion not even 10 minutes prior, confusion is the primary emotion now. 

And it's with partial confusion and partial recognition that she acknowledges softly, “I’m okay…”

He doesn’t say anything, and it’s in that brief time of silence that Solana tries to process what just happened. Having suffered from panic attacks since she was a child, she’s never been able to calm herself down, never experienced one as short as this one. 

But he….he just changed that. He just helped her through it.

Shaking her head, she stammers, “how….how did you—”

Solana didn’t realize he was still holding her forearms until she looks down. Roman suddenly jerks and steps away from her, forcing her arms back at her side. 

Instantly, she’s contrite. He seems….disturbed. Triggered, almost. “I’m sor—”

“Quiet.” Solana watches with just as much confusion as he moves across the room, dressing himself, back towards her, like he’s physically unable to look at her. There’s a level of aggression in his movement, a wave of irritation radiating off his large being. “Why—why are you….”

She can’t bring herself to finish her sentence, but she definitely thinks it.

She wants to know why he’s leaving, even if it should be painfully obvious.

Truthfully, Solana doesn’t quite understand why she’s suddenly wondering why he’s leaving. It’s obvious she can’t do what needs to be done. More importantly, she doesn’t want to. Him leaving her alone should be sweet relief.

But it can’t be sweet relief because while it may fix one issue, several others are created.

She was told not to upset him.

He’s upset.

She was told to please him.

He’s far from pleased.

She was told to do whatever he asked, and she’s done the opposite of that.

So far, Solana is failing. She’s failing miserably, and that can only lead to one grisly outcome. 

“Where are you going?” Asking while holding her robe closed over her body, she weakly reminds, even if it kills her to do so. “We—we have to—”

“You think I’m dealing with that shit again?” Roman snaps, finally turning to look at her. “I can’t even fucking touch you without you having a nervous breakdown.”

His words, while true, leave a sting. It’s also a bit confusing. How is this the same man who only minutes ago talked her through her panic attack with such patience and compassion.

She suddenly feels even more embarrassed and stupid.

“But, we’re—”

“I can get pussy anywhere, preferably without the headache of dealing with someone clearly unstable.” Solana still isn’t quite sure how to take his sudden change in demeanor. Roman finishes dressing and curtly informs, “the room on the end of the hall on the right is yours. Don’t still be in mine by the time I get back.”

“When are you—” The sound of his heavy double bedroom doors slamming in the wake of his exit prematurely silences her question. 

It’s only when she’s certain that she’s alone that Solana breaks down again.

He’s upset.

She’s upset him.

Nothing ever good ever came out of an angry man. Not for her, at least.

Her mind creates and races with a million and one thoughts regarding not about where he’s going but what will happen when he’s returned. She wants to believe he’s going somewhere to work off his anger, but experience has proven she’s the way that men work off their anger.

Roman indicated that day in the library that he wouldn’t put his hands on her, and while she wanted to believe he was being honest, this was also before she pulled this. He has every right to be upset, but that anger and not knowing what will come from it….it terrifies her.

It terrifies the shit out of her.

Falling to the floor, legs against her chest, she sobs into her legs, one thought and only one thought on her mind now.

What the hell did I get myself into?

[sparklingchim]

long way home 26 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 4.9k

genre: dilf!jungkook, friends to lovers, angst

warnings: ... emotions 🫡

summary: the one where decisions are made.

a/n: i can't believe m actually typing this out but we're at the end of lwh !!! thank u to everyone reading this series <3 i love uuuu <3

chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |

masterlist | long way home masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The coffee shop is eerily tranquil today. There aren’t many customers.

Only a few people linger at the tables near the windows and a single person stands in line.

The only loud noise comes from your phone pressed to your ear as Seulgi screams and yells at you.

You definitely should have waited until you entered the break room, because you’re afraid Seulgi’s voice is loud enough to hear.

“You promised me you would talk to him!”

You close the door with a push of your palm.

“I know, I’m going to.” You sigh and sit down at the table. “I just don’t know when exactly.” You sound sheepish, a worried crease appearing between your brows.

"Did he text you at all?”

“No. Why would he? I literally kicked him out of my place.”

Seulgi groans at your reminder. “Tell me why you did that again?”

“Seulgi,” you whine. You need her advice. She had already done the scolding part days ago.

“I know, I know – I'm sorry,” she replies, softer now – less accusing.

You fidget with your fingers. “Should I text him?”

“No, that’s not a good approach,” she dismisses.

“At least it’s something,” you retort. You could send him a short message. Though you’re not sure what it would contain. Hi, I'm sorry for making you leave, can we pls pls pls talk I miss you. You grimace. Maybe a call would be more suitable.

“Y/n,” Seulgi says, snapping you out of your thoughts. “You know what’s more important than figuring out how to approach a conversation?” She pauses, but you stay silent. “Being ready to tell him the truth.”

You told Seulgi of your feelings for Jungkook the day after he confessed to you. She sat on your couch and watched you intently after you announced in a flustered tone I have to tell you something, right after you had talked about what had happened the day before.

You waited for a reaction, but none came. She had a vacant expression. “I know,” she said then, shrugging nonchalantly. “You think you were being secretive about it?” A puzzled look spread across her face.

You felt your cheeks grow hot.

“Are you?” Seulgi presses.

“Yes. I think I am.”

“Good, because this isn’t gonna fix itself,” she says. “Not unless you finally have the courage to be honest with him.”

She’s right. And even though it’s scary, you have nothing to lose. You have already lost your two favourite people in the world.

“And now go and talk to him.”

“What?” Seulgi can’t possibly mean that.

"Go to his place and have a conversation with him.” As if it were that easy.

“I’m at work, Seulgi.”

“You’re taking a break right now,” she counters.

“Yeah, but-”

“No buts,” she interjects. “Just go and get your friend back. Or future boyfriend, whatever.” Seulgi is unwavering. But your doubts and hesitations slowly start to fade. “I can’t keep watching you be sad. It breaks my heart,” she adds, in a much smaller voice.

“Seulgi,” you pout. She has seen you at your lowest points, and of course you know that she is compassionate, but when you hear her voice, your throat tightens.

“You’re gonna leave now?” she asks.

It’s a bit hectic and far too spontaneous, but her words have planted determination in your mind. But maybe that is exactly what you need. This way you don’t have time to overthink and come up with possible scenarios that make you doubt everything and give you sleepless nights.

“I am.” You take a look at the clock. You still have time left, but it’s definitely not nearly enough for walking to Jungkook’s apartment and talking to him. You have to do this now. If you postpone it to later, you’re not certain if you still have the bravery to do it.

“The next time you call it better be to tell me that Jungkook is your boyfie.”

You ignore her. “I’m gonna hang up now, I don’t have time. And thank you, really, without you I’d probably never do this.”

“That’s what friends are for,” she says warmly. You wish you could hug her.

After the call you leave the break room. There still aren’t a lot of customers and you’re thankful for that.

“Jimin.” You walk up to him. He’s loading cakes into the display case. He gives you a sweet smile.

“Hey, uh – I kinda have something quick to do,” you start, gauging his reaction. “Do you think you could – It’s just something really important and I don’t know if I can do it later and-”

“It’s okay, y/n,” he interrupts, the smile still on display. “I’ll cover for you, no problem. Do what you have to do, there is no rush.”

He doesn’t ask for a reason. He doesn’t ask how long you’ll be away. He doesn’t ask any questions. You would pull him into a hug if you weren’t in such a hurry.

You tug at the tie of your apron at your back and pull it off your body. Jimin reaches out to you and you hand him your black apron.

“Thank you. I promise I’ll be back soon!”

You don’t know the outcome of this, but you will take the initiative and at least try to make things better than they have been the last couple weeks.

You’re a little hopeful, and you have yet to find out if you are foolish for that.

With your heart pounding in your ears, you rush out of the coffee shop.

~

The walk from the coffee shop to Jungkook’s apartment isn’t that long, but it gives you time to question your choice.

You stand in the elevator of Jungkook’s apartment building, wondering whether you should press the button that will take you back down.

Earlier, a guy walked out of the building when you were about to ring Jungkook’s doorbell. You were able to slip into the building without announcing your presence to Jungkook. You feel more comfortable this way, though your hands start feeling clammy.

The elevator stops at Jungkook’s floor. The steps that lead you to his apartment door are uncertain, ready to turn and sprint down the stairs.

But you didn’t come here just to run away. You want things to be good between Jungkook and you.

You take a deep breath and press the doorbell.

A few seconds pass. Then, the door opens.

Jungkook stands in front of you. His long, dark hair is a fluffy and wavy mess on top of his head, adorned with little wispy flyaways around his face. He’s in casual clothes – black sweatpants combined with an oversized white pullover.

He seems startled to see you.

“Hi,” you say, a little breathless.

“Hi.” His usual mellow lilt carries a rare hesitancy.

“Do you have time to talk?” A lump forms in your throat and you swallow it down.

“Yeah, sure.” He makes room for you to enter and closes the door behind you. You change into a pair of slippers and follow Jungkook to the living room.

“Is Nabi sleeping?” You can’t help but ask. You kind of hoped to see her. You missed her and maybe she could’ve eased your nervousness a little.

“I put her down for a nap a while ago.” Jungkook sits down next to you on the couch, a considerable distance between you. He glances at the clock hanging on the wall. “She should be up soon, though.”

When his eyes draw back to you, you feel a little helpless. You remind yourself of what Seulgi told you. This isn’t gonna fix itself.

After sorting the chaos in your head, you say, “I wanted to apologise for being so selfish all the time.”

Jungkook parts his lips to speak, but you continue before he can say anything. “I’ve never fully tried to look at things from your perspective and narrowed my mind to what I thought was the best solution.” You pull your sleeves over your hands. “It shouldn’t have been that way.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook replies, flashing you a tiny smile that disappears soon after. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I shouldn’t have made you leave. That was heedless and inconsiderate of me,” you admit, biting your lip in guilt. “You opened up to me and I didn’t know what to do. There was a lot in my mind, and I just needed some space for a moment – I'm sorry, truly.” You avert your gaze to the carpet. “I honestly didn’t prepare what to say, I just – I left work because I needed to talk to you.”

“Why do you sacrifice so much for me?”

He insinuates more than leaving work in the middle of your shift.

A string tugs at your heart. Jungkook was honest with you, it’s time to be honest with him too – and maybe to yourself as well. It’s time to acknowledge the feelings you hold for him in a hidden little niche of your heart.

It’s difficult to bare that part of you when you’re so used to hiding it.

“Because I love you.”

You said it. And you mean it. Wholeheartedly so.

You can’t foreshadow his response and what will happen, but you’re glad you said it. The relief that courses through you was worth it.

Jungkook’s stare is intense. You don’t know if it’s the intensity of his stare or what you’ve just confessed, but every single bone inside of you feels ignited. You’re burning from the inside with sheer anxiety darting through you, while Jungkook remains silent.

Your words hang in the air, so simple and yet so daunting.

Jungkook’s pierced eyebrow twitches. He opens his mouth but not a single sound passes his lips.

You don’t blame him. Three days ago you shooed him away after he told you the exact same thing. In retrospect, you deeply regret that decision. But at that moment, you were overwhelmed and needed to be alone. Sort your thoughts. And then talk to him again.

You shift in your seat. “Jungkook.” It’s a soft murmur of his name, a trace of pity and urge creeping in your voice.

The spark leaves Jungkook’s eyes and he casts his gaze away. “It doesn’t change that you made me leave. You still don’t want anything to do with me. Right?”

You shake your head vehemently. But he is still not looking at you, so you say, “That’s not true.” You sit closer to him, fingers curling against the fabric of his sweater on his elbow. “That night was overwhelming for me. I made a mistake when I told you to leave, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Doe eyes lock with yours. You realise how much you missed his glimmering eyes that hold the night sky within them. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want you back in my life, Jungkook.” His sweater crumples into a tiny ball in your palm. “I missed you.”

His answer is immediate. “I missed you too.”

Your chest feels light. A giddy warmth encloses you like a blanket.

“I’m sorry. For the way I acted,” you say.

“It’s okay. You’ve already apologised.” He looks down at your hand grasping his sweater. You should let go, but even the smallest hint of physical touch feels reassuring.

“I know but I just – I just think we’re equally as responsible for how things have turned out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah, definitely.” With a sigh he leans back. His tatted fingers vanish in his dark hair as he cascades through them.

“I really wanna try this. I want to be with you.”

He unclasps your fingers from his sweater and holds your hand. It’s an innocent, small gesture and still, your skin buzzes with delight.

“Y/n.” The way he whispers your name, tender and careful, as if not to break you. “Don’t you realise how much more you deserve?”

Your brows furrow. “But...” You squeeze his hand. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand.

“I promised myself to get over you after we graduated high school,” you tell. “But that clearly never happened.” Looking at both your hands you feel silly for ever thinking you could suppress your feelings for Jungkook.

“High school?” he inquires.

You feel small beneath his sharp gaze. “Well, yeah.” You shrug. “You’re like. Really pretty.” Heat crawls up into your cheek. “And we hung out like 24/7. It was not that hard to fall for you.”

“I mean, same.” The corner of Jungkook’s mouth tilts upwards.

Your lips form a tiny ‘o’. He has feelings for you since high school? It doesn’t make sense. “But you never shut up about how we’re such good friends,” you accuse him. All these years. And you didn’t know.

“Oh, yeah. That was...” He trails off.

“That was what?” You level him with a raised brow.

You see the struggle in Jungkook’s eyes. You don’t want to push him, but there are no more lies between you, no more secrets and untruths. You want only total honesty from now on.

“I thought I wasn’t good enough. That you deserved more.”

You shake your head in denial. “Why would you ever think that?” The years you spent with him as a teenager are full of happy memories. There were no big fights, and you don’t think you ever said or did something that made him feel that way. He’s been your best friend for so long. You love him just the way he is. “Did I ever make you feel like that?”

“Your father once told me not to try to pursue anything more than friends with you,” he explains hesitantly. “That’s why I’ve always talked about being such good friends.”

“He said what.” You’re stunned. What was your dad thinking?

Jungkook pulls your hands to his lap. “He only meant the best for you at the time.” He remains calm but little bubbles of anger prick at your skin.

“I don’t care what he was thinking.” You scowl, lips drawn into an angry pout. “So you’re telling me that if my dad hadn’t said anything, we would’ve-”

“Don’t get mad now,” he interrupts, an amused smile playing at his lips as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind you ear. “Your dad didn’t have any ill intend. I know we could’ve saved us a lot of time and misunderstandings but looks at us. Years later and we’re still in love. It doesn’t matter if in high school or now. It’s the same love. Just - “Jungkook flashes you a cute smile. “I think the only thing that has changed is that I love you even more.”

You bite down your lip. This. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

“Being apart from you was terrible,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I spent so much time thinking about you, you know that?”

He chuckles. “I think I do. You never leave my mind, y/n.” His hand around yours feels strong, protective.

“Never?” You ask tentatively. Looking at him through your lashes.

“No,” he confirms, a subtle, gentle shake of his head. “Never.”

You’re not even that close to him, but your entire body prickles at the proximity of Jungkook. The weeks without him have made you forget how it feels when you’re with him and now your body reacts to it like anticipating the last book of a fantasy series.

You need him closer than this. And it’s almost as if Jungkook can hear your thoughts, because he lets go of your hand and instead pulls you by your waist into his side. His hand lingers at your waist. And you might just feel like your skin is on fire.

“I like this better.” Jungkook’s voice is low, and so so close, it sends shivers down your spine.

“Me too,” you mumble. You have your chin propped up against his arm, looking at him with a small smile. You grow shy beneath his gaze, and you don’t even know why. “I’ve always wanted this.” You clasp your hands around his arm.

“Good,” Jungkook agrees, voice an octave deeper. Oh. More goose bumps. “Because I’ve always dreamt of this too.”

His other hand comes up to your face. He cups your cheek so delicately, the warmth of his palm is a soothing distraction from your racing heart.

Jungkook’s eyes dart between your eyes and lips, a question floating in the air that he is too afraid to ask.

“Jungkook.” It’s a plea, a request a yes, please kiss me and make me forget the world for just a moment.

Jungkook bends down. Your heart thumps against your chest and when you feel the softest hint of his mouth against yours, it stops beating.

The kiss is brief, gentle. A mere brush of your lips. Your eyes flutter open when Jungkook pulls back again, just the tiniest bit. He gives your waist a squeeze. His lips left a glimmer of tingles on your lips, and you ache for more.

“I spent so long waiting for this moment I was worried fate might never let me have you,” he whispers against your lips.

“You have me, Jungkook.” It leaves your mouth like a promise. “I’m here.”

Your hands loop around his neck and you surge forward, pulling Jungkook into another kiss. He moves his lips against yours in a practiced manner, as though you did that every single day of your lives. Like he is the missing piece of your heart to make you whole again.

Jungkook tugs you closer to him. You raise to your knees and throw a leg over Jungkook’s thigh. He follows your movements with his mouth, the softness in the beginning switching into a frantic, messy kiss.

You sit on his thigh, hands diving into his fluffy hair. You pull at some strands when he bites down your lip, moan into his mouth when he pushes you closer at your lower back and you graze over his thigh. With every sweep of his lips, another broken bone of your body mends.

You never want this moment to end.

You didn’t know you needed this so desperately, but now that you’re in Jungkook’s embrace you never want to let him go. Just you two, forever.

But then a sudden cry blares through the apartment.

Jungkook draws back. His forehead is against yours.

You two need a second to come back to the real world. The afterglow clouds your rational thoughts like the night setting after a beautiful summer day.

Your breathing is laboured, so is Jungkook’s. Your hands slide down to his neck and down to his shoulders.

“Nabi woke up from her nap.” His nose scrunches at Nabi’s wailing. He plants a tiny smooch on your lips, lingering close for a chaste moment before he gets you off his thigh.

You think about waiting until he returns with Nabi, but you can’t wait to see her tiny, bubbly form after so long.

Before Jungkook leaves the room, you scramble to your feet and reach for his hand. “I missed her,” you whine and Jungkook leads you to the nursery with a promising squeeze of his hand.

When you follow Jungkook into Nabi’s room, you take tentative steps towards her crib. Nabi is curled up in her little blankets, her round doe eyes shimmering with tears. Instinctually, you coo at her sight. Your heart softens.

“Wanna hold her?” Jungkook asks. His eyes never left you since you entered the room.

You nod – way too animatedly – and you think you see a smile spreading across Jungkook’s face out of the corner of your eye.

Ever so gently, you swoop Nabi into your embrace. Her little sobs ring throughout the room and nip straight at your heart. “My baby,” you murmur. You rock her in your arms. “I missed you so, so much.” She is wearing her baby bear romper, the material a fuzzy brown with two little bear ears attached to the hood.

Nabi is a small, fluffy bear and you’ve missed this tiny human so enormously.

Her doe eyes – an exact replication of her dad’s – stare up at you. The cries subside into whimpers, her puffy lips trembling.

“Nabi.” Her name bubbles past your lips in a whisper. You brush your knuckle against her doughy cheek. “Do you remember me?” She blinks through her thin, wet eye lashes. Having her in your arms unfolds a gloomy feeling in your chest. Yes, you are happy to see her again, but how were you able to spend more than two weeks without her?

“Are you crying?” Jungkook suddenly asks, stepping forward.

It’s only then you discern the tears pricking your eyes. “No,” you deny, sniffing a little.

A soft chuckle springs from his chest. Jungkook stands behind you, nuzzling his head to the side of your face. His burly arms envelop your waist. “Don’t cry,” he mutters. He faintly nudges your cheek with his nose. “You’ll never be separated from her again.”

“I wouldn’t survive that.” Your lower lip juts out as you’re in awe with Nabi’s cuteness. She has your heart.

“She wouldn’t either,” Jungkook retorts. His hushed timbre so close to your ear is drawing you back to him. You slowly rest your head against his chest. His voice. You could listen to him talk for hours with no end. “Nabi wouldn’t settle for sleep if she didn’t have some of your clothes in her bed.”

With a quick tilt of your head, you glance up at him. And then your eyes travel to Nabi’s crib. You see something in a lavender colour peeking from underneath Nabi’s blanket. A top you must have left here.

You thought you had successfully managed to restrain your tears, but here you are again, with new tears stinging your eyes.

“You can't just say that.” Dolour cloaks your voice. “It’s gonna make me cry.”

“Sweetheart.” He pecks the crown of your head. “It’s okay now.” There’s a hint of amusement swirling in his tone. But his touches on your body are soft, soothing.

Nabi has gone completely silent in your grasp. You boop her nose. A smile unfurls on your face. So little. A broad smile blossoms on Nabi as a reaction, pudgy cheeks scrunching her twinkling eyes. The absolute sweetest giggle sparks from her. Your heart clenches at the sound.

But then your eyes spot her reddened gums and the faint white outlines of her teeth.

You gasp. “She is growing teeth already?” With a swift whirl of your head, you stare at Jungkook, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and she’s been really fussy about it.”

“Oh my God,” you utter, looking at the little baby in your arms who’s growing up too fast. A subliminal melancholy sets in your tummy. “She was just a tiny baby and now she has teeth?” You ask, appalled.

“Not yet,” Jungkook says. “But it doesn’t matter how fast she grows – she will be my little baby forever.” Nabi’s eyes are drawn to Jungkook as he speaks. “Isn’t that right? Hm?” He leans over your shoulder, squishing her doughy cheek with his fingers. Nabi squeals, another smile displayed on her mouth.

You give Jungkook a kiss on his cheek. His eyes are sparkling just like Nabi’s. Jungkook turns his face to you. “And you,” – his lips brush over the corner of your mouth – “You will be my baby forever too.”

You laugh against his mouth.

“What.” He raises his brows, a pleased expression on his face.

“You’re silly.”

“No, I’m not.” He pulls you closer to him. Your back is flush against his lean body.

“I’m just saying the truth.”

“Oh, yeah?” Playfulness flashes in your eyes.

He gives you a firm nod. “Yeah.” Jungkook gently strokes your hair over your shoulder. Your skin tingles when his digits unintendedly skim over your neck.

“Tell me another then.”

“I love you.” He didn’t let a second pass before answering. “I’m so incredibly in love with you.”

Your heart flutters in your chest. “I love you.”

His loving eyes bore into your soul. No one has ever looked at you the way Jungkook does. Like you are beautiful, a work of art.

A deep warmth of domesticity floats in the air. It’s a vast contrast to how you have been feeling in the past days.

You share a sweet kiss with him, but it gets quickly disrupted by demanding babbling from beneath you.

"Yes, I love you too, missy,” Jungkook says, brushing her thin hair from her forehead. Her brows are deeply furrowed. He gives her a kiss there. Nabi’s trembling pout changes into a beam. “Always needy of attention, huh?”

“Just like her daddy,” you tease, grinning at Jungkook, before you leave the nursery with Nabi.

Jungkook catches your waist in the hallway. “You’re right,” he admits, a smirk curving his lips. He pulls you into his side as he walks you to the kitchen. “That’s why I don’t wanna spent any second of my life apart from you anymore.” Jungkook pecks your forehead.

A shy smile sets on your mouth. You sir down at the dining table and watch Jungkook opening a cupboard with Nabi’s food.

Nabi has found interest in playing with your hair, occasionally tugging at it.

“Not a single second?” you ask mindlessly, eyes focused on Nabi.

“I’m being serious.” He pops open a jar. “Y’know what.” Jungkook turns around to you. “You should move in with me.”

Your head snaps to him.

You search for a hint that tells you that he doesn’t actually mean it, but Jungkook doesn’t budge.

“I mean it,” he confirms.

“I can’t just move out of my apartment like that,” you reason.

Jungkook shrugs. “Just stay with me.”

It sounds so simple from his lips. And maybe it is. Seulgi has already taught you today the simplicity of just acting without overthinking too much beforehand.

“That way Minjun can’t bother you anymore.” Something flashes in Jungkook’s eyes. “Next time I see him I’m gonna break his neck.”

You ponder for a second. “I mean, I spent most of my time here anyway,” you say. “But lets not rush anything.” You don’t want this to be ruined before it has even properly started.

“Of course, baby.” He turns to the counter again. “Only if you want.”

You watch from behind as he prepares Nabi’s food. The contours of his shoulder muscles flexing with his movements conjure butterflies in your tummy. Hm. Maybe you should consider moving in if this is what you’ll get to see every day.

“Waking up next to you for the rest of my life sounds like a dream, honestly,” Jungkook flirts. You don’t have to see him to know he’s grinning annoyingly.

You’re glad he doesn’t see the way your teeth involuntarily sink into your bottom lip at his teasing voice.

“Your daddy can be insufferable sometimes,” you whisper conspiratorially, looking down at Nabi. She babbles something in return. You giggle and Nabi squeals in delight.

“What are my girls talking about?” Jungkook asks.

“None of your concern.”

You hear him huff. Suddenly, you remember that you left work during your shift. And that you promised Jimin to be back as soon as possible.

“Jungkook,” you gasp. He immediately turns to you. “I have to go back to work. Jimin is covering for me, but I've left him for way too long. I-”

“It’s okay, I’ll drive you back.” Jungkook’s calm voice works like a miracle cure for your panic. “I’ll just feed Nabi real quick and then we can leave.”

“You don’t have to. I can walk back.”

“I want to,” Jungkook says. “Besides, we can eat our cookies again. It’s been so long since I’ve eaten one.”

“I haven’t eaten one in so long as well.” The last time was together with Jungkook.

Jungkook blinks perplexed. “How have you survived until now?” He closes the distance between you, the back of his hand against your forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You roll your eyes and swat his arm. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Why are you on a cookie diet?”

“Reminded me too much of you,” you mumble.

“Baby,” Jungkook coos. His knuckles trace the skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

You grin mischievously. “For the rest of my life?”

“Of course.”

“Daaa,” Nabi gurgles.

“Yes, I’ll buy you as many cookies you want too, once you grow your teeth.”

“That’s gonna be so soon.” You pout.

“We’ll always have time to make a second b-”

“Jungkook hurry.” You push him away. “Poor Jimin is covering for me, and Nabi is gonna starve.”

“Okay, okay,” he replies, though he doesn’t go back until he traps your mouth in a tender kiss. It’s a short kiss, but it messes with every coherent thought in your brain.

You wait for Jungkook to bring Nabi’s warm food. He opens the cutlery drawer and fishes out her tiny, pink spoon.

You smile when you think about the phone call you’re gonna have with Seulgi later. The next time you call it better be to tell me that Jungkook is your boyfie.

The ambiance is cosy – Nabi snuggled up in your arms, Jungkook sending cute smiles your way as he gets her food ready – a feeling of utter contentment that has your whole body at peace.

It’s been a long way to get here, but you finally feel at home.

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 3]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I've been at home with not much to do today, so I decided to add the third chapter for you all before the weekend ends. Once again, thank you all for the kind words and taking the time to read this story. I've also decided to start a tag list, after being asked for it, so if you'd like to be included in that, please just let me know! x

Taglist: @khadeeeeej

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Series Masterlist

The warm, morning sun peeked through the opening of the drawn curtains in your hotel bedroom, covering everything in a glowing light. Your mind slowly awoke, piecing together where you were, and what happened last night. You smiled at the thought, and reached out for your fiancé to hold him. But the side of the bed that was supposed to be his was cold and empty, making you open your eyes and furrow your brows. 

You got up slowly, walked out into the living room portion of your suite, and your eyes widened at the bottles of alcohol lining the coffee table. Jimin was there, passed out on the sofa, in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. It made your chest ache for him, knowing he was slipping back into himself. 

“Honey?” You called out to no response. You walked over and kneeled down beside him, brushing his soft, blonde locks from his beautiful face. “Jimin…” 

He murmured something under his breath but refused to open his eyes, and moments later, he was back asleep as his body clearly tried to fight off the elevated alcohol levels in his system. You felt your eyes begin to tear up at the man in front of you, confused as to what could’ve sent him spiraling backwards. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again, baby.” You whispered through spilling tears, knowing from experience that it was useless. He can’t hear you in his state. “You fucking promised me, Jimin… I-I can’t be around you right now, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

With that, you stormed into the bedroom and slid into a quick pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your suitcase, grabbing your designer bag and phone. You began heading towards the door, but paused, looking back to the man you loved so, incredibly deeply. Not knowing what else to do to, you made your decision to look away from the heartbreaking disaster in front of you. You headed out the door, down the hall, and slipped quickly into the elevator to take you out of the building. 

The streets were busy, despite it being so early on a weekend morning. You loved the bustle of the city, as it offered a pleasant distraction. Watching people as you passed each other, you could easily slip into their life through your imagination. What job did they work? Were they single, or with someone? What did they like to eat? Did they have children? You could imagine it all, pretending to be somebody else in your mind, if only for a brief time. It was a coping strategy you learned as a girl, when you wanted to escape your own life, and the irony of it was never lost on you. You weren’t foolish, you saw the way people eyed your designer clothing, and you knew they must wonder what your life was like. They would never really knew that you would trade it all in for theirs, if it meant having a life that was just a little less complicated. 

Lost in thought, you had wandered several blocks down from your apartment, just exploring the beautiful neighborhood. You stumbled upon a homey-feeling American diner, with large windows on side, looking somewhat out of place built into the bottom floor of a large, very modern skyscraper. You could see in from where you stood across the street, and watched the staff bring coffee and delicious looking breakfast to each guest. The crosswalk light signaled green, so you began walking towards the restaurant, deciding to grab a bite to eat to clear your head. Maybe I could grab some yummy food for Jimin too, you thought, and talk things over while he sobers up. 

You entered through the front door, and the attached bell rang to alert the staff of a new customer.

“Good morning!” A sweet, red headed waitress with an apron tied around her waist called out in a sing-song voice from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, I’ll bring you a menu!” 

“Thank you!” You responded, looking around for a place to sit. It seemed as though the place was a packed house, with every booth being taken. 

But there, in the back corner, you spotted a familiar face. Or, what you could catch of his face, as it was buried in his menu, with wide, boyish eyes looking over each option. You were thankful to see him, thinking it an intervention of some sort to keep you from having to be completely alone with your thoughts.

“Excuse me,” You walked over to the waitress who had greeted you. “That man in the corner there is a friend of mine, is he with someone?” 

“No ma’am.” She responded, shaking her head. “He likes to come in often and eat by himself.” 

“I think I’ll sit with him and surprise him, then. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You smiled, which she returned. “Thank you.” 

You made your way over to him, with an unwavering grin on your face. When you arrived by his table, he still hadn’t looked up, lost on the seemingly endless food options on the menu. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? This place is so busy, I was wondering if I could join you?” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. The voice he would know anywhere, pleasant and gentle. 

“Y/N?” He responded, looking up at you. “What are you doing here? A-And of course, please, sit. Um, hi.” He mentally kicked himself for stuttering. Cool. He said sarcastically to himself. 

“Hi.” You giggled at his surprised and stumbling reaction. “I just decided to leave the hotel for a bit, and I spotted this place from across the street. It’s so popular, it must be delicious.” 

“Mhm, I come here sometimes and it’s always busy.” 

“Yeah? The waitress I talked to said she sees you in here often.” 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess she probably does.” Jung Kook said shyly. 

You both made small talk over the food, the neighborhood and the local things to do that Jung Kook has discovered in his short time being here. While the conversation itself had little significance, happening over modest diner eggs, toast and coffee, the feeling Jung Kook had was indescribable. He never forgot, even after years of being apart, just how easy it is to have a conversation with you. The way you listen so intently, and keep your attention, as though nothing else in the world mattered. It made him feel so special and seen. Your voice was just as sugary as ever, and your giggles never changed, still able to make his heart race. He wanted to hear that laugh forever, and he wanted to be the man who made it happen. 

“Where’s Mr. Park this morning?” Jung Kook asks, suddenly noticing that you were alone. 

“Oh, Jimin?” You paused, hesitation not going unnoticed by the perceptive man sitting across from you. “He, um… He just wanted to sleep in. Jet lag and all that, y’know?” 

“Oh, right.” Jung Kook nodded, not wanting to dig deeper into your pregnant pause. It isn’t my business, he thought. “He seems like a great guy, by the way. You seem happy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, praying tears didn’t come to your eyes. “Jimin’s really amazing, he always has been. But um, what about you, Jung Kook? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” Jung Kook chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I uh… I broke off an engagement back in Korea before moving to the city.” 

“You were engaged?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly. “I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.” 

Jung Kook paused, thinking back to the woman whose heart he broke, as he looked at the woman who he’s always truly loved. You’re the reason I couldn’t love her. He said internally, gazing at your face. 

“It’s ok. I just think she wasn’t the one for me.” 

“Yeah? It sounds like you believe that everyone has someone perfect out there, just for them.” You said with a smile, and Jung Kook looked at your face, adoring the way the morning sun attached itself to your skin, making you glow. “I think so, too.” 

“I’ve always believed that. Everyone deserves to find their happiness.” Jung Kook said, his tone shifting in a way you couldn’t quite place, but his chocolate brown eyes were delicate as he looked at you. He swallowed, his tone heavy yet genuine when he added, “I’m glad you and Jimin found each other.” 

Your lips parted, attempting to find words that weren’t there. So you just nodded and offered a polite smile. The silence was thankfully cut short by the waitress, who brought your check. You went to reach for your wallet, but Jung Kook pulled his card out first and laid it onto the table. 

“Please, let me.” He said, his voice warm. “We’ll call it a thank you, for surprising me. I’m glad you did.” 

“Ok.” You grinned, unsure as to why your cheeks were heating up at his compliment. 

While you and Jung Kook were lost in your breakfast and conversation, Jimin had woken up to an empty hotel room. His head ached, but no worse than his chest did when he realized your absence. He had wanted to crawl into bed with you, hold you tight, and apologize for what he had done in the best way he knew how; cover your body with love, and spend the morning buried between your thighs as he pleasured you with kisses and soft, pressured licks.  But when the bed was empty, the panic set in. 

Quick thinking led him to go to his phone, and find your location, as you always shared your location with each other. He spotted your little dot on his phone at a diner, just a few blocks away, and Jimin felt a bit of comfort wash over him. She was just hungry. He thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s meet her there, she’ll be surprised. 

But what Jimin had not expected, was to see him there. The puppy-eyed lawyer sat across from you, and Jimin could tell even from across the street than the man held on to every word you said. Jimin knew that look well, because it’s how he looks at you, too. Jimin grits his teeth, and sends a quick text message to his main lawyer, Kim Namjoon. 

9:11 a.m: Something needs to be done about the new rookie on your team, because spending time alone with my fiancé is wildly inappropriate. See to it that this doesn’t happen again, or I will be finding new representation.  

9:12 a.m: *image attached* 

Jimin takes one last look at the scene in front of him, and goes back to the hotel room. He orders three more bottles, and passes out once again. 

——————————————————————————————————

On Monday morning, Jung Kook was feeling light. He entered his law firm building as he does every day; a freshly pressed black suit on, his dark hair neatly styled, and a cup of coffee in his hand. But this morning, he felt a bit happier, attributing it to a simple breakfast shared with you the weekend prior. He wished he could have breakfast with you every morning, but buried that thought, not daring to spoil his mood with fantasies. 

He sat down at his office desk, and began looking through his weekly calendar and emails. This week was the final week or preparation before the Park Jimin case truly begins, and Jung Kook was fully ready to explain to his mentor why he had told him last minute he needed to recuse himself. It would be the right, responsible thing to do, and it would give him space from you. As much as he wished he didn’t need it, he felt that he needed to move on. You found your happiness. It’s time to let you go. 

Namjoon entered Jung Kook’s office, and closed the door behind him. Jung Kook looked up at his face, which usually held a gentle, welcoming smile. This morning, however, Namjoon was clenching his jaw like a father who was trying not to explode on his son. 

“Jung Kook.” Namjoon said, his voice scarily calm. “I want… No, I need you to be honest with me. What is going on with you and Mr. Park’s fiancé?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.” Jung Kook answered professionally, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake, kid, drop the act.” Namjoon deep voice was almost a growl. “I’m going to lose out on a top client because you can’t keep your nose where it belongs.” 

“What-” Jung Kook was stopped by Namjoon throwing his phone down on his desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Jung Kook squinted at it, to see a photo of himself and you at the diner. 

“How did you get this photo?” Jung Kook asked, his heart sinking. 

“Mr. Park saw you. He’s furious.” Namjoon explained, pacing back and forth. “He called it ‘wildly inappropriate’, and threatened to find new representation if it happens again.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry.” Jung Kook panicked. “Please understand, it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing happened, we was just-”

The office door knob turned, and a hush fell over the room. Jimin and yourself stood there at the door, hand in hand. Namjoon and Jimin locked eyes, and Namjoon could see that the client looked worse than he did just a few days prior. Dark, prominent circles were under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messier than before. Jung Kook noticed none of that, however, and stared directly at you. 

You were wearing dark sunglasses, with no thought to take them off despite being indoors. Your hair was seemingly brushed quickly, notably and uncharacteristically  not put together well. Your loose fitting clothes seemed carelessly thrown on, not styled perfectly in your usual fashion. You were quiet, head down, tightly holding Jimin’s hand and appeared to make yourself smaller, like you wanted to vanish into thin air. Jung Kook wanted so desperately to bring you in and hold you, shield you from whatever it was that made you look so tired, in such a short amount of time. 

“Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jimin responded, his throat sounding hoarse. “I came to fill out any paperwork, and tie up loose ends before we meet again next week.” 

“Of course, I was just talking with Mr. Jeon. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin called out, his voice weak. “Mr. Kim informed me you were recusing yourself from my legal team for this case. I just wanted to thank you, for the work you’ve done.” 

“Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Park.” Jung Kook said, confused with the kind words. This wasn’t the furious tone that Namjoon had described. 

“My love,” Jimin turned to you, his voice extra soft and delicate. “Will you go with Mr. Kim to his office, please? I’ll be there soon, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Jeon privately about the case before he leaves us. I had some questions.” 

“Ok.” You said, your voice almost a whisper. Jimin squeezes your hand and kisses the top of your head before turning to Namjoon, who nods in understanding. 

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon says gently, leading you out of the office. 

When you are out of sight, Jimin turns to you. The fury Namjoon spoke about is now prominent in his eyes, leading Jung Kook to realize that your presence is the thin defense that keeps his anger at bay. 

“Jeon Jung Kook.” Jimin spat. “I don’t know where you get off, eyeing up my fiancé in some cheap diner, but if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll ruin you. Do you understand me?” 

“Mr. Park, I never meant to offend you.” Jung Kook said. “Nothing happened. We just bumped into each other.” 

“I don’t want excuses, or explanations from you.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Jeon, I see the way you look at her. I’m warning you, to watch yourself. You’re from Busan, correct?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park.” 

“Then you know who I am, and who my father is.” Jimin’s voice was dripping in anger. “I will personally see to it that you never represent anyone in our city, or this city again, if you come near her. That’s a promise.” 

Jung Kook felt suffocated under the weight of the air and the weight of Jimin’s glare. Even in his disheveled state, his blonde locks dropping to his face couldn’t cover the anger in his eyes. Jimin stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him, causing other office workers to startle and look into his room. Jung Kook buried his head in his hands, unsure as to what the right path to move forward is. 

[momomoring]

since we both love jichaeng another jichaeng ask for you pooks

kinda mean dom!jihyo with switch!chae and sub f!reader..

her being maybe all nice to reader sometimes but ordering chae around...

silly!

OH MY GOD this is so akjjashjahkhs mean dom!jihyo is everythinggg. also i am so sorry this took so long, school started and immediately overwhelmed me so i couldn’t write as much as i wanted to BUT here it is, i rly rly hope you like it (it’s not suuuper well-proofread so my b if there’s any mistakes loll)

take me past the edge

wc: ~5.8k

cw: mean dom!jihyo x switch!chae x sub f!reader, SMUT, pre-negotiated kink, dacryphilia, degradation, praise kink, hair pulling, light bondage (hands/wrists), oral sex, strap on sex, spanking, implied/referenced exhibitionism, edging

a/n: title from The Summoning by Sleep Token cause babymaking metal music eats (sometimes literally)

—————————————————

if you ever thought planning time for sex after a dance practice was a bad idea, this is your confirmation. it was such a bad idea, and you’re paying for it now, no matter how much you love it.

“jihyo’s gonna punish you so hard later if you keep doing that,” you murmur to chaeyoung at one point and you can feel her smile on your shoulder, but makes no motion of moving anywhere.

chaeyoung chuckles, leaning closer to press a kiss to the side of your neck before whispering against your skin, “i know.”

you hum, “you’re in a subby mood today?”

she nods. “Is that okay?”

“more than,” you murmur gently, pressing back into her slightly as you add, “that’s why we have her, isn’t it?”

chaeyoung laughs again. you smile and turn your gaze to jihyo. sure enough, you lock eyes with her and lean back into chaeyoung, whose fingers drift further under your crop top.

the muscle in jihyo’s jaw works as she grits her teeth. there are people everywhere; people who don’t know to leave their questions unasked and turn a blind eye.

if jihyo were being honest, she can’t deny how the extra level of risk makes it more exciting in a way. she knows it’s wrong, how much she almost wants chaeyoung to go further, but she can't stop watching the way chaeyoung touches you, her neediness plain to see to anyone who knows it.

maybe it’s the way you lock eyes with her, and how she can read the desire there, your neck tense and your hand shifting down to grip chaeyoung’s wrist tightly.

maybe it’s the way chaeyoung tucks her chin on your shoulder and smirks at jihyo, like she knows exactly what jihyo is thinking and feeling.

if jihyo wasn't so affected, this wouldn’t be happening. she’d be able to control chaeyoung’s hands, keep them at her sides, keep that godforsaken neediness away from practice.

what doesn’t help is chaeyoung’s smile everytime she looks at jihyo, the way it’s so painfully clear that she's enjoying this, pushing jihyo’s buttons; holding and touching you when jihyo is too focused on trying to maintain everyone's image.

jihyo would be lying if she said a big part of her growing irritation was the arousal pooling low in her stomach. she’d be lying if she said wasn’t excited by chaeyoung’s neediness, the way it means she’s in the mood to be risky, to let jihyo have control after practice. jihyo would be lying if she said watching chaeyoung’s hands wander all over you wasn’t giving her ideas and thoughts she shouldn’t be having.

chaeyoung grows steadily bolder as practice goes on, the line of plausible deniability long gone with the way she sits next to you, a hand on your abs, whispering in your ear.

it’s too much because chaeyoung isn’t usually one for dirty talk–not until she’s been fucked to delerium. and yet, here she is telling you exactly what she wants to do with you when you get back home.

if you weren’t currently in a staring match with jihyo and fully aware of how chaeyoung’s actions are for jihyo’s sake as much as yours, you might have been inclined to think she was in the mood for topping. but it’s the fact that chaeyoung asks you if jihyo’s watching as she tucks her head closer. how she presses closer, asking if jihyo looks mad.

it’s a dynamic you’re familiar with, one that sits in your stomach, as anticipation heightens the way chaeyoung’s hands touch you.

practice finally ends, and that makes it worse in a way, what with the way chaeyoung is now on her best behavior as you all thank the assistants and stylists and choreographers and whoever else.

it’s worse because you, jihyo, and chaeyoung all sit in the backseat, the tension taught and electric in the air between you. jihyo’s leg presses against yours and it feels teasing, taunting.

it’s worse as jihyo walks in first, you and chaeyoung trailing behind her. you can feel the wetness growing between your legs already, thoughts of what’s to come running wild in your mind when you enter her bedroom.

“sit,” jihyo murmurs, dangerously quiet as she motions towards her bed. you and chaeyoung do what you’re told, sitting on the edge and watching jihyo as she sets her duffel bag down and moves around her room.

“chaeyoung-ah,” jihyo says, her voice coming from behind you both. “what were you thinking, touching y/n like that? putting your hands all over her where everyone can see?”

she doesn’t leave room for chaeyoung to answer, continuing, “do you like that? touching her like that while everyone watches? is that appealing to you?”

chaeyoung nods slowly. and jihyo scoffs, “use your words.”

“yes, i like it,” chaeyoung says, her voice just barely shaking. you feel the corner of your mouth tug upwards at the admission.

the bed dips behind you with jihyo’s weight. she moves closer to you both, until she’s kneeling behind you. you feel a hand come up and trace along the back of your shoulder to the back of your neck and down your spine.

“why can’t you be more like y/n, chaeyoung-ah?” jihyo murmurs, almost to herself. “not making a scene, not being too touchy, not being too needy. she’s so professional, why can’t you just do that?”

the hand on your back disappears and a moment later, chaeyoung gasps. out of the corner of your eye, you see jihyo slowly pull her head back until her throat is on full display, every line and curve visible in your periphery.

jihyo hums and brings her other hand up to trace the curved column of chaeyoung’s neck. “do you like giving me a hard time? do you like making my job difficult?”

“maybe it’s your own fault for letting me make your job difficult,” chaeyoung says, her voice low and strained.

jihyo chuckles darkly and tightens her hold on chaeyoung’s hair. “such a brat.”

jihyo leans in to mouth chaeyoung’s throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses up to her jaw, nosing at it momentarily as she murmurs quietly, “color?”

“green,” chaeyoung breathes out and jihyo hums, nipping at the warm skin of chaeyoung’s neck.

you squeeze your thighs together as jihyo pulls back from chaeyoung. “look at me, y/n,” she says.

you turn your head to look at her, the way she’s holding chaeyoung’s hair tightly at the root, near her scalp, baring her throat.

“your color?” jihyo asks gently, her eyes dark.

“green,” you say and jihyo smiles at you. the look on her face contrasts the way she handles chaeyoung and it’s dizzying.

there’s a careful undertone, the way she lets go of chaeyoung and moves to you, reaching over to manhandle you further to the middle of the bed.

“i’m sorry chaeyoung-ah wasn’t being good to you, y/n. you deserve so much more than that,” jihyo says as she lays you on your back before leaning over you, holding herself up with a hand next to your stomach as she traces a finger over the waistband of your sweatpants.

“let me make it up to you,” jihyo says, “i’ll make sure chaeyoung-ah behaves this time. you’ll feel so good, i promise.”

her finger traces up to your stomach, where her hand flattens against your abs. it moves further up, slipping underneath your crop top and pushing it up. jihyo bends down and kisses just above your belly button before moving to the side and kissing the bottom of your ribs, nipping softly.

you shift underneath her, a hand coming up to run through her hair. you feel her lips curl into a smile against your skin as she continues pressing kisses to your stomach and abs, her hand moving to bunch your shirt up more, tucking the end of it under your bra to keep it there before she traces a finger down to scratch at the space under your belly button but above your waistband.

you turn your gaze to chaeyoung, still sitting there, facing away from you and jihyo. she’s just barely squirming but you’d be willing to bet she’s even needier than before, hands itching to touch you.

“you were being so good earlier, y/n,” jihyo says. “just taking chaeyoung’s behavior. my good girl, always so willing and obedient for me. you waited so patiently for me.”

jihyo moves up, your legs widening to make room for her as she settles completely over you. she hums as she stares down at you, dipping to press a line of open-mouthed kisses up your neck.

she loves seeing you like this, putty in her hands. hers to do whatever she likes with. she loves that you give this to her, this control over you. the way you let her captivate you, the way you let her bring a hand up, an index finger tracing along your jaw, to your lip where she presses it against your lips. you open and her finger slips inside, your lips closing around it as you suck gently, your tongue flicking over the pad of it.

jihyo laughs lightly, “look at you, all mine to play with.” her smile turns more to a smirk as she adds, “chaengie could never, all that neediness just gets in her way. she’d never take care of you like this, too desperate to just get in your pants and fuck you.”

jihyo slides her finger out of your mouth and you take the opportunity to murmur, “i like it, though.”

jihyo laughs, her hand moving to cup your jaw, the slickness of her finger wet on your skin. “i know, baby. it’s cute, how much you just want to roll over and get fucked. like i said, so willing and obedient.”

she shifts, a knee coming up to press against your core. your eyebrows furrow as your mouth opens with a gasp, the bare minimum of relief nearly overpowering after who knows how long of waiting.

“see?” jihyo says. “the issue is that there’s a time and place, you know that as well as i do. but don’t worry, i mean it when i say i’ll make sure chaengie makes you feel good.”

with that, jihyo pulls back entirely, reaching to the nightstand to grab something.

she comes back and you realize it’s a silk tie. she lifts one of your hands, moving it above your head before going back for the other. she crawls to kneel beside your head, leaning over to wrap it around your wrists carefully and tie them to the headboard. she knots the tie slowly and methodically, checking that it won’t come undone but isn’t too tight.

“color?” she asks, a hand still holding your wrists, her thumb running over your forearm back and forth.

“green,” you say, looking up at her.

“good,” she murmurs gently, bending down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead before sitting back on her heels at your side.

you test the silk tie around your wrists, there’s barely any give. it’s so tight, with just enough room to allow for circulation. you shift on the bed, an idea of what jihyo’s planning on doing to you forming in your mind.

it was part of the plan, that it’s up to jihyo to decide what to do to you. she likes it like that, you guess, the control she has over you and chaeyoung, the way you both give yourselves to her. she really just wants you to feel good and she likes that you put your pleasure in her hands like this, letting her bind your wrists and talk so filthy.

“chaeyoung/ah,” jihyo says, “come here.”

chaeyoung turns and moves closer, eyes bouncing between you and jihyo.

“undress her,” jihyo says, her voice cold and sharp.

chaeyoung nods and moves closer to tug your sweatpants and panties down. you lift your hips to help her before she guides the fabric down your legs and throws your clothes off to the side. she reaches out to run a hand up your leg and jihyo reaches out, stopping her hand.

“i didn’t say you could touch her,” jihyo scolds.

“please,” chaeyoung murmurs, “i need her.”

“well, that’s not my problem, is it?” jihyo says, and chaeyoung shakes her head. jihyo clicks her tongue and tilts her head to the side. “use your words, chaeyoung. i know you can, you’ve been running your mouth all of practice, tormenting y/n, probably riling the poor thing up with no way of getting any relief.”

you shift where you lay, something about the way jihyo speaks to chaeyoung goes straight to your core. maybe it’s the sternness, maybe it’s the way the vein on jihyo’s neck stands out the more she scolds, maybe it’s the way she’s talking about you in that way.

she moves to kneel behind chaeyoung, that hand coming up to tug her head backwards by the hair, saying, “you like teasing her with so many people watching. it’s almost perverted, chaeyoung-ah. but you like it like that, don’t you?” jihyo smiles, staring down at you from over chaeyoung’s shoulder. “answer me.”

“yes,” chaeyoung groans, “i like it.”

“what do you like?”

“i like teasing her,” chaeyoung says, a visible flush creeping up the smooth curve of her neck. “i like doing it when she has to hide it. i like doing it when you can’t do anything about it. i like it when you’re angry. i like it when y/n is desperate. i like it when she lets me do what i want to her. i like it when she doesn’t care if people can see us.”

you can feel your cheeks burn at chaeyoung’s words, it’s filthy and yet it’s affecting you. it’s shameful and embarrassing and yet here you are, squirming and hands tied up and a pitiful whine forming in the back of your throat.

jihyo laughs, faux surprise on her face. “chaeyoung-ah,” she says, “when did i ever say you could do any of that?”

“you didn’t,” chaeyoung gasps, hands twitching at her sides.

“that’s right, i didn’t.” jihyo’s words are sickly sweet and cruel. she releases her hold on chaeyoung, telling her, “pants off.”

chaeyoung scrambles to strip herself of her pants and underwear. jihyo pulls chaeyoung in front of her, both of them kneeling between your legs before jihyo bends chaeyoung at the hips and pushes her down.

chaeyoung’s arms stop her fall and she hovers over you, her mouth falling open in surprise as jihyo harshly grips her hips. she hums, a palm running over the curve of chaeyoung’s ass.

she slides lower and slips a finger between chaeyoung’s folds, humming, “so wet, chaengie.”

it’s slick and warm, leaking out of her, and momentarily, jihyo sways out of the moment as she slips a finger inside. chaeyoung lets out a small noise, her eyes slamming shut.

���you’re so needy, chaeng,” jihyo says, her voice bordering on awed as she watches, transfixed, as she presses in and out with ease, finger already shiny with chaeyoung’s juices.

“it’s for you, all for you,” chaeyoung moans, head falling down as she shifts, a hand moving to rest on your hip, squeezing softly.

jihyo’s gaze slides up, tracing the curve of chaeyoung’s ass to the dip of her spine to the rippling muscles of her back as she squirms, bent over for jihyo.

jihyo can feel herself sinking back into it, her hand on chaeyoung’s hip moving to squeeze chaeyoung’s ass roughly. she blinks and the corner of her mouth curls into a smirk as she locks eyes with you.

“so desperate, chaengie,” jihyo murmurs, pulling her finger out of chaeyoung and tracing it over the skin of chaeyoung’s ass. her hand disappears for a second before slapping her, the noise loud and sharp. chaeyoung moans, rocking forward, her eyes screwed shut. her fingers on your hip tighten and a whimper escapes from your mouth.

“y/n, count them for me?” jihyo asks, and you nod, your core aching with need, wanting to rub your thighs together or grind on something, anything.

jihyo slaps chaeyoung again, on the other side. chaeyoung moans again and you count, “two.”

another slap.

“three.”

chaeyoung cries out, her hand holding herself up twists into the bedsheets, her nails digging into your hip. she bites down on her lip, she can feel her wetness dripping to the inside of her thigh as she whines with desperation.

the stinging in her ass hurts in the best way, with jihyo smoothing over her cheeks and shushing her, scolding her coldly, “this is what happens if you don’t do as i say, chaengie.”

then there’s another slap and you count, “four.”

chaeyoung cries out, her head turning to bite down on her arm to muffle her noises. you can see jihyo smirk down at you, realizing just what chaeyoung is doing. she clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

“if you’re that ashamed of your noises, chaeyoung, why don’t you just put your mouth to use and eat out y/n?”

your hips press upwards at the thought of it and chaeyoung nods, scooting backwards before switching to hold herself up on an elbow, her hand on your hip moving to wrap around your leg and part your folds.

chaeyoung barely pauses before licking from your entrance up to your clit.

you surge upwards, crying out in relief and stimulation. you tangle your fingers in the sheets behind you to keep them there as chaeyoung’s tongue circles your clit before sucking the bud into her mouth.

you could cry at the feeling, how overwhelming it is. you turn your head, pressing your mouth against the soft skin of your arm as chaeyoung dips lower, her tongue teasing your hole for a split second before entering, lapping up your wetness, groaning at the taste.

jihyo smiles as she watches, hands still rubbing soft circles into the angry, red skin of chaeyoung’s ass.

chaeyoung slips her arm from around your leg to slide two fingers inside of you.

“fuck!” you cry out, clenching hard around chaeyoung as your back arches.

there’s a loud, hard slap and chaeyoung nearly screams, her mouth falling open against you.

“five,” you choke out, even though you’re half-convinced jihyo isn’t listening.

jihyo reaches out, digging her fingers in chaeyoung’s hair to pull her head off of you, nearly growling, “did i say you could use fingers?”

“no,” chaeyoung groans, her half-lidded eyes staring down at you.

“then why did you?”

“i need her,” chaeyoung cries, “i wanna fuck her, i wanna make her come. i’ve been waiting so long, please, just let me fuck her.”

“no,” jihyo says and reaches down grabbing chaeyoung’s hand, pulling her out of you.

you whimper at the loss, your hips shifting. jihyo spares you a glance and says, “i know, baby, it’ll feel good in a second, okay? thank you for being so patient.”

jihyo maneuvers chaeyoung’s hand to her back, low on her spine. jihyo keeps one hand holding it there and her other reaches to lightly rub chaeyoung’s shoulder.

“color, chaeyoung-ah?” jihyo prompts.

“green,” chaeyoung murmurs.

“good, thank you,” jihyo says quietly and ducks to press a kiss to the middle of chaeyoung’s back before straightening and slapping her ass again, just as hard as the last time, and chaeyoung screams.

“six,” you say and jihyo grins at you, her hand rubbing over chaeyoung’s stinging skin.

“so good for me, y/n, doing just what i say.” she reaches down with her second hand—the first still pressing chaeyoung’s hand against her back—and wretches chaeyoung’s head up to look at you. “see, chaeyoung-ah, this is how good girls behave. this is how obedience works, you do what i say and i make you feel good. you don’t do what i say, and i spank you until you cry, understood?”

chaeyoung whimpers in response, and jihyo tightens her hold, saying in a low voice, “words, i need words. do you understand me or not?”

“i understand, i understand,” chaeyoung cries out in a broken voice.

“good, now eat y/n out like the fucking slut you are,” jihyo growls and releases her hold on chaeyoung’s hair.

chaeyoung is on you instantly, sucking and working her tongue on your clit.

you moan, hips pressing upwards, forcing chaeyoung to adjust, her second arm jerking towards your hips until her can grip you hip, her elbow pressing into the mattress with the weight of her upper body.

jihyo can’t deny just how much she likes chaeyoung like this, essentially a rag doll, ass in the air and face in your pussy, eating you out like she’s starving.

jihyo slides her hand between chaeyoun’s thighs, slipping a finger into her entrance. chaeyoung groans against you as jihyo presses that spot deep inside of her.

the coil in your stomach tightens the longer chaeyoung laps at your pussy, whimpering and whining around your clit as jihyo continues fucking her slowly.

you get even closer to the edge, your head pressing against the side of your arm, moaning and squirming underneath chaeyoung. jihyo slips her fingers out of chaeyoung to roughly circle her clit, the slickness making it easy.

chaeyoung’s body seizes above you, her nails digging into your hip so hard it borders on painful, her tongue faltering momentarily before she resumes her ministrations on your clit, somehow growing more and more desperate the more jihyo pushes her to her orgasm.

“i’m close,” you choke out, hands gripping the silk tie, tugging at it as your hips press upwards. jihyo grins at you, releasing chaeyoung’s hand from her back to insert two fingers inside her soaked pussy, sliding in easily. chaeyoung moans right as she sucks your clit into her mouth. you feel the vibrations of her noise on your clit and your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your back arching off the mattress as the coil in your stomach explodes. your body tenses, your hands pulling the silk ties taut, your legs trying to hard to snap closed around chaeyoung’s head.

chaeyoung pulls away to watch you come, pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“i didn’t say you could stop,” jihyo says, fucking harshly into chaeyoung, who ducks her head back down and continues licking at your clit despite you still being mid-orgasm. you moan brokenly, sensitivity making your body spasm and tense.

chaeyoung is close to her own orgasm, the way jihyo’s fingers press against all the right places, her fingers working her clit, the sting in her ass that hasn’t quite faded—all of it pushes her closer and closer. she just needs a little more, she whines helplessly against you, starting to fuck herself backwards on jihyo’s fingers. just a little more, until she—

jihyo pulls out of her entirely and chaeyoung moans in anguish, crying out, “no, no, please, jihyo, please, i wanna come, please.”

“too bad,” jihyo says, hands on chaeyoung’s hips, guiding her into position before pulling back and slapping her ass once again. chaeyoung gasps, rocking forward.

“how many is that, y/n?” jihyo asks.

“seven,” you say, your voice dazed and eyes half-lidded as you watch chaeyoung press her face against the inside of your thigh. her mouth and chin are shiny with your juices, her eyes glassy and staring at your pussy in desire. you shift and turn your gaze to jihyo, who glances at you and smiles softly.

“feeling ready for more?” she asks and you nod. she hums and rubs chaeyoung’s ass. “color, chaeyoung-ah?”

“green,” chaeyoung murmurs, voice husky with need.

“eat her out,” jihyo orders, her voice betraying a hint of gentleness as chaeyoung adjusts her position, legs moving further back and slightly wider.

you moan at the first stripe of chaeyoung’s tongue on you, one of her hands still holding your hips down and the other moving to slide her index finger in you, twisting to curl up and press that spot that makes your toes curl into the sheets. chaeyoung adds another finger and you moan at the feeling.

jihyo makes a tutting noise and you gasp, frantically saying, “no, jihyo, please, let her fuck me, i need it, she feels so good.”

jihyo’s mouth twitches as she considers, watching how your eyes widen, cheeks and neck flushed red, your hands tugging on the silk tie binding you to the bed. your desperation is cute, but it’s the way that you moan as chaeyoung’s fingers thrust deeper that convinces jihyo.

“okay,” she says and goes with it, gently praising, “look at you, y/n-nie, taking her fingers so well.”

there’s a brief pause as jihyo watches chaeyoung fuck you, her thrusts and tongue slowly growing in speed.

“i wonder if you can take another,” jihyo prompts.

you nod, groaning, “i can.”

chaeyoung smiles against you, her fingers slipping out only to push back in with three. she curls them upwards and you moan, your pussy stretching to accommodate.

“that’s my good girl,” jihyo coos. “letting chaeyoung fuck you so well. how does it feel?”

“good,” you gasp, hands straining against the ties. “fuck, it feels so good.”

jihyo hums again, her hand drifting closer to chaeyoung’s core, close enough to brush against her. chaeyoung whines, her hips moving back, seeking relief. jihyo indulges her momentarily, a finger swiping through her folds to flick up and down on her clit.

chaeyoung moans against you, her fingers thrusting roughly, making your eyes slam closed as your hip surge upwards. it’s intoxicating, the sheer need that rolls of chaeyoung, the way jihyo rolls her clit between her fingers only serving to encourage chaeyoung in fucking you harder.

jihyo’s index finger slips from chaeyoung’s clit to her entrance, dipping shallowly inside before slipping out and tracing around. chaeyoung whines, her voice high-pitched and airy as her hips pressing against jihyo’s hand on her hip, unable to grind backwards for more friction.

it feels like your orgasm comes sooner this time as you gasp and writhe, moans tumbling out of your mouth as chaeyoung pushes you to the edge. she doesn’t even stop, fingers curling inside of you and sucking your clit in her mouth, and your second orgasm crashes into you.

your eyes squeeze closed, your mouth falling open as your back arches once again, hips grinding desperately as chaeyoung fucks you straight through it, maybe even harder. jihyo continues just barely teasing her, a finger barely on her clit, more of an idea than anything.

it’s mesmerizing, the way your hands tug hopelessly on the silk ties, body convulsing, crying out as chaeyoung just keeps fucking you, her hips wanting more from jihyo.

jihyo reaches down to grip chaeyoung’s hair at the root to pull her away from you, her second hand drifting from her pussy to her back, guiding it into an arch underneath her. “let y/n come down,” jihyo murmurs softly, her hand rubbing chaeyoung’s back, nails scratching softly.

chaeyoung cries in jihyo’s hold, slipping her fingers out of you obediently. you let out a low whine at the loss, and your chest heaves as the last of your orgasm finally fades.

jihyo’s hand runs from chaeyoung’s back to her pussy, entering her roughly with two fingers. chaeyoung cries out, her eyes slamming closed as jihyo fucks her hard and fast, letting go of her hair to reach around and rub harshly at her clit. chaeyoung tenses, rocking herself backward to fuck herself on jihyo’s fingers in time with her thrusts. her own hand finds your clit, her thumb rubbing mindlessly on it. you clench your teeth, groaning, hands straining on the ties as your body shudders.

almost too soon after jihyo starts fucking chaeyoung, she backs off completely and chaeyoung moans pathetically, calling out, “no, jihyo, please, keep going.”

without a word, jihyo climbs off the bed and picks up another item from the top of her nightstand. you turn your head and watch as she puts on the harness for her strap. a laugh escapes you as you watch her slide the dildo into place. she picks up the bottle of lube and squeezes some into hand, lathering it on the dildo as she gets back on the bed, crawling back behind chaeyoung.

“please,” chaeyoung mewls desperately. You laugh again, chaeyoung’s hopeless oblivion about what’s to come almost cute as her thumb keeps working against your clit, the last of your laugh turning into a moan at a particularly rough stroke when jihyo runs the dildo through chaeyoung’s folds. chaeyoung moans when she realizes what it is, her hips grinding down in need.

“color?” jihyo asks.

“green.” chaeyoung’s voice is ruined with need, whiny and begging for it.

jihyo enters chaeyoung roughly, not bothering to let chaeyoung get used to the size. chaeyoung cries out, her head pressing against your thigh as jihyo’s hands hold onto her hips, pulling back out only to bury herself to the hilt once again. chaeyoung’s groan breaks off into a silent scream, her mouth falling open and jihyo sets a rough pace, a hand reaching out to push her head down to your dripping pussy.

“you know what to do, chaeyoung-ah,” jihyo grunts and chaeyoung’s tongue is back on you, licking and sucking your clit messily, whining at the back of her throat from jihyo’s relentless pounding.

it’s when one of jihyo’s hands moves from chaeyoung’s hip to rub at her clit that the stimulation gets to be overwhelming, pushing her close to tears just before jihyo pulls out and palms her ass roughly. she slaps her hard and growls, “how many, y/n?”

chaeyoung lets out a choked sob against you, wetness dripping out of her, her tongue on your clit never stopping as you choke out, “eight,” the edge of your orgasm creeping up yet again.

“good girl,” jihyo says and shoves her strap back into chaeyoung. she lets out a cry, her nails digging into your hip as your back arches with jihyo’s praise, the gentleness contrasting her movements to such a degree it’s hard to keep track.

chaeyoung can feel her orgasm approaching quickly, the feel of jihyo’s strap fucking into her roughly, the way jihyo’s hips hit her backside with every thrust, the noise of it filthy in chaeyoung’s ears. she laps at your pussy, addicted to the taste, the way jihyo wants her like this, pleasuring you, pushing you to orgasm. jihyo’s strap stretches her out, hitting every inch of her walls. it’s mind-numbingly overwhelming in the greatest way, the fogginess of her brain only making sense of how good it feels to be jihyo’s toy, completely hers to use, to get you off as tears fill her eyes.

so of course jihyo disappears a second later, pulling out completely and never thrusting back, her chest heaving as she halts her movements. she sits back on her heels as chaeyoung cries out, her orgasm just within reach but not quite there. she cries out against you, tears spilling over and down her cheeks as her walls clench on nothing, her clit swollen with unsatiated need.

jihyo laughs, watching how you moan brokenly; chaeyoung amidst her anguish still pathetically working at your clit, needing to make you feel good.

it’s when you start losing track of how many times you’ve come that you can barely make sense of anything other than jihyo’s words, murmuring softly, “you’re doing so well, y/n-nie, coming so many times for us, just as we asked.”

your mouth hangs opens, body spasming in oversensitivity as chaeyoung keeps going yet again, not letting you come down all the way. “please,” you whine, your voice broken and ruined, “i can’t.” you’re only half aware of what you’re saying as you beg, “too much, please.”

jihyo hums, slowing her thrusts down as she runs her hands over chaeyoung’s back. she watches your body convulse on the bed, hands gripping the silk ties tightly as your hips twitch away from chaeyoung’s greedy mouth.

“one more,” jihyo tells you softly. “chaeyoung-ah, be a good girl and make y/n come one last time and i’ll let you come too.”

chaeyoung whines long and loud, eating you out with a renewed fervor. you scream, back arching off the bed with a sob, the intensity of chaeyoung sucking your clit into her mouth making you groan and shake on the bed, your feet digging into the bed as chaeyoung never lets up.

your orgasm hits you almost out of the blue, the sheer force of it making you black out for a split second as your entire body tenses, muscle contracting and flexing as your mouth drops open, ragged moans spilling out in time with how your body shudders.

before it fades, jihyo leans further over chaeyoung, angling her strap in such a way that she hits just perfectly deep inside chaeyoung to make her gasp and moan. jihyo slides a hand around chaeyoung’s waist to rub at her clit harshly, making chaeyoung’s arms collapse out from under her. she lands on top of you, her forehead on your stomach as jihyo doesn’t stop, roughly fucking into chaeyoung, grunting with the force of her thrusts.

chaeyoung can feel the coil in her stomach tightening, her orgasm in sight yet again. Her tears never let up with how good it feels as she’s pushed closer and closer. jihyo keeps going, grunting out “come for me, chaeyoung-ah,” and a sob rips its way out of chaeyoung’s chest as her orgasm crescendos into her, everything going blank for a long moment as every bit of pressure explodes low in her stomach, waves of continuous pleasure crashing into her throughout her body.

and when her body finally falls limp, jihyo pulls out carefully, apologizing quietly when chaeyoung whimpers.

you watch through glassy eyes as jihyo takes the strap off and places it on the nightstand before leaving and coming back a minute later with two glasses of water. she sets them down on the nightstand as well, then gets back on the bed to guide chaeyoung on her back and at the head of the bed next to you.

chaeyoung rolls onto her side, tucking her head in the space between your shoulder and neck. you wrap an arm around her shoulders and tug her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. jihyo smiles at you and leans in, pressing a chaste kiss of her own to your cheek, before doing the same to chaeyoung.

“i have water for you both right here,” jihyo says quietly, her voice warm and kind. “is there anything else i can get for you?”

“hold me?” chaeyoung asks in a small voice and jihyo does so immediately, moving in behind chaeyoung to spoon her. you lift your arm off of her so jihyo can press in against chaeyoung, her arm reaching over to rest on your stomach. your arm comes back down, this time wrapping around jihyo’s shoulders.

chaeyoung sighs, relaxing into the both of you as she murmurs, “we should do that again, sometime.”

[cruel-acid]

LIONGARB SHAO XIANG

I kinda can’t believe my first ever proper OC card is for Shao Xiang and an event card (I was so sure I’ll at least make dorm uniform Iza first… but oh well)

Technically, Shao Xiang wouldn’t be part of the NRC team and would be like an important guest with his family, but I wanted to make this card anyway! So you get voice lines while I’m working on the groovy version hehe~ See groovy here✨

Summon line: Ugh, I cannot believe I got dragged into this… Well, since I’m already here, might as well have some fun.

Groovy: How awfully hot it is here… Good thing that I brought a fan, is it not?

Home: I’ll come along if it means less time to spend with my parents.

Home idle 1: My family was provided with these peacock masks, but both Father and Mother refused to wear them. Their loss, if you ask me, I find the design quite lovely.

Home idle 2: In such heat, it is essential to keep yourself hydrated. Would you like to join me for some tea?

Home idle 3: I’m hoping to find some unique fabric specimen on this trip. They might be of good use for my collection…

Home idle - login: I would much prefer to visit the market again or even stay at the hotel rather than go watch this tournament… Maybe I should follow housewarden’s advice and fake sickness…?

Home idle - groovy: Sitting by the waterfall like this is rather calming… A perfect spot to think or read. As long as it’s quiet, that is.

Home tap 1: My cloak? Oh yes, I was given a blue one to match with my family, but I swapped it. I quite like this more remarkable look.

Home tap 2: Ah, I’ve seen Ā Vil getting hurt at the match. What a shame that I didn’t get a chance to talk to him and ask if everything is alright… I’ll make sure to do so once we meet in college.

Home tap 3: I have to admit, I quite like the occasional change in my hair - braids are quite a bizarre choice, but they look good on me. At least Qin qin said so.

Home tap 4: I didn’t exactly enjoy watching the Bead Brawl - I find tournaments like this nothing more than cheap show off of brutal strength. It was rather funny to see the express of Viper xué dì when he saw his housewarden on the arena, though.

Home tap 5: There are quite a lot of fresh fruits here at the bazaar… I wonder if I should buy some for Qin qin to bake something with them.

Home tap - groovy: I’ve bought this fan on this trip to add to my collection. The embroidery depicts the same flower as in my hair - it’s called Caesalpinia, but it’s more commonly called a Peacock flower. I think it’s rather beautiful, even though quite corny

// for those wondering, Ā is something added to the names of good friends, xué dì is a way to address younger schoolmates and Qin qin is a way to address your lover, in this case, Shao Xiang’s boyfriend (or at least that’s what I’ve found on the internet… terribly sorry if I’m mistaken)

[patrophthia]

Hii soo I have a request for Regulus x reader :) okay so like maybe the reader got like a bad haircut or smt and feels very insecure and so Regulus comforts them and says like it's not that bad lol. You don't have to write it if you don't want to it's just a request! :)

i’m sorry this took so long, i have no excuse ive just been lazy 😭😭😭 but this idea, is so so cute hello?!?!

veritaserum | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship, comforting, a bit suggestive, not proof read!

One thing about Regulus Black is that he tends to take things a little too seriously. Just a little, he promises as he watch you fuss over your new hair do. 

A slight frown playing at your lips as you try to toss your locks in different directions. Left, right, left again, right again. Only to finally give up and huff out in frustration, turning to him with an all too upset look on your face. 

“I told them to only take a few inches off, this way too much and it’s not even the style I asked for them to do! How am I supposed to go around looking like this, Reg?” 

Regulus narrow his eyes, squinting as he tried to find what exactly was so wrong about your new cut. Sure it’s short, and definitely different from the pass styles he’s seen on you but you still look breathtaking, isn’t that all that matters? “Looking like…?” 

“A derange person who doesn’t know how to take care of themselves,” you say, flailing your hands up in frustration. “Merlin, what am I going to do?”

“It’s not bad,” he offers, shrugging. And when your frowns deepens, he adds. “Really, it isn’t.” 

“You’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” your murmur, “just admit it doesn’t look good, I won’t be mad at you.” 

“I’m not! I genuinely think it looks good on you.” And because Regulus tends to take things about too seriously, he reaches into his book bag before pulling out a small clear vial. “Here, this is veritaserum.” 

He doesn’t need to explain it to you, the both of you having studied the content within the while a few classes ago in Potions. Regulus, pulls the cork open before quickly downing the clear substance.

There’s a few moments of silence where you both stared at one another. You not believing that he really downed an entire vial of truth serum just to prove of his point, and when you take a step forward; Regulus opens up his mouth to speak. 

“Your new hair cut looks amazing on you, Mon chéri,” he says first. “Breath taking even.” 

The corner of your lips twist upwards on its own accord, heart softening at his words. “You didn’t have to drink that just to tell me.” 

“You wouldn’t have believe me otherwise,” he hiccups, short dark curls falling gracefully onto his forehead. Regulus, pushes it off his face, gazing at you with content. “Matter of fact, I think I’m getting hard just looking at you, I can’t fake that.” 

“Gross, Reg,” you groaned, making your way towards him with a fake disgusted look, “you didn’t have to tell me that.” 

“I didn’t want to either,” he says, reaching out for you, and you let him take your hand, “but I can’t really control what I want to say right now since I—” he lifts up the empty vial into your line of sight “—anyways, your hair looks good on you. And if you’re so worried about it then I’m sure there’s hair tonic that’ll grow it back out in a moments time.” 

“Mhmm,” you hum, nodding as you agreed with him, “think I’ll keep it like this for a few weeks though.” 

And when Regulus lets out a quiet —barely even there, “yes!” You think that he might’ve liked this hair cut more than he lets on. 

[wasteland-wrecker]

ily..... sorry if you've ever answered this but have you ever drawn modern au gage and toby? or do you have hcs?

Hey there! <3

I’m not a big au fan but… here we go! ✨

Thank you for asking, I have this big headcanon:

Gage is not so good in bed. He is probably a virgin, let me explain you why.

🔞🔞🔞

From what we know about his past and the way he talks I'm pretty sure he's never had s3x with anyone or at least no long-term, positive experience.

Lines like "…you wouldn’t want nothin to do with me, not with the fucked up life I’ve had” denotes he is AWARE of the cruelty of the world he lives in. He has seen shit his whole life. I don’t think he had the time to even think about s3x.

Or “I ain’t never done anything like this. Ain’t sure it’d work, you know?”

When you ask him about your relationship he says “… I don’t like talking about feelings and shit. We’re… we’re great, you know that”. Zero experience, come on.

This means he gets embarrassed and that he’s worried about other people’s opinions (which is quite strange for a wastelander and a raider) one of his lines is like “if I die killed by a bug, tell everyone I accidentally stomped on my gun and killed myself”. (Yeah, who cares???)

And, speaking of raiders, he’s lived his whole life as one of them and when he talks to you (a complete stranger!!) in private he calls them “fucking raiders” (you okay man?! Need to talk or something?!).

It seems clear that none of these raiders have ever made its way into his sensitive little heart. He’s faking, pretending to be something he’s truly not.

And I don’t think he’s ever had anything to do with settlers. I can’t even imagine him r4ping someone, from that point of view he has a strong integrity (at most he’ll piss on your corpse ✨)

No one has ever made him feel safe, he says that to you when he opens up. Gage must completely trust his partner to have s3x with him/her/them. He must be sure he won’t be betrayed or killed.

And his past makes it clear that he no longer trusts anyone, apart from himself.

I might also add that the fact that he doesn't take baths indicates a sort of disinterest in the subject.

Gage often complains during trips and it means that he worries about stuff (like rads, chems, alcohol, bad smells - yeah he does I can prove it).

Do you think someone so attentive to what surrounds him and the consequences of his actions wouldn’t care about sexual diseases and sleeping with just anyone? I’m sorry but I don't see it.

He surely m4sturbates often, I can agree with that. He has very indecent thoughts as well and he’s horny af. He probably likes it rough, yes. (He loves to read erotic books OF THIS I’M SURE 10000%) But don't come and tell me that he is a S3x Lord Master or something because I have an hard time believing that (surely with a good experience he can become one, but not when you first know him).

Last, but not least, let’s not forget the fact that his name’s GAGE and he wears a fuckin CAGE all the time (to keep people away from him). The end.

Alright uh, my hand slipped on this hc lol, let me know if you want more anon and I’ll answer you in another post 😭 (shorter I promise) or you can read this post

[hogans-heroes]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me we’re getting more of nonverbal Gale. It’d be criminal if you don’t. Sorry I’m being greedy 😩😩 but Gale clutching onto Bucky as if Bucky is even thinking of leaving him. Gale whimpering in the night and only settling when Bucky grabs hold of his hand under the covers. Gale who’s practically begging with his eyes for Bucky to slide into the bed beside him and Bucky agreeing and jokingly reminding him it can’t be for too long because the morning shift should be coming around. Bucky continuing to yap like if Gale’s replying while all Gale can do is stare at him because Bucky can read him so well. Gale who probably only continued to spiral further because he was racked with guilt for leaving Bucky behind and the uncertainty of knowing he was alive. Gale who forces his first words to be an apology to John for leaving him behind even though that’s what John wanted.

(Regarding this post, nonverbal Gale after his escape)

YOU ARE 110,000% RIGHT WITH THESE EMOTIONS I am literally dying right along with you thank you for every word and visualizing all these scenes that are so painfully perfect. I decided literally the day after posting that it would become a fic because it got a huge response and I was having SO MANY feels. I have most of the scenes lined up and might add more, it’s literally sooooo much whump and angst and hurt/comfort I’m DEADDD.

All your ideas are so so valid and right on point are we sharing a brain??? Gale and John and sooooo dependent on each other and have to be touching a lot, and John tries to keep talking for both of them and make everything as normal as possible even though he’s breaking inside. Gale who can hardly keep his grip on reality and struggles to know what’s real or not, needing John’s hands because he can’t hallucinate that, even if he can hallucinate his voice. John learning how to read Gale’s looks and touches, trying to figure out why he’s this way. Loving every second he holds and touches Gale but torn with grief because what if he never hears Gale’s voice again? And of course he’s convinced this is all his fault. Gale never wanted to risk escape and he never would have tried if John hadn’t gone crazy on the march and Gale only agreed to go to protect John.

Ok I’m not gonna word vomit all my ideas and emotions in response to yours but you get the idea! Yes you will be seeing a fic, hopefully soon 😭❤️

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 4

(quick chapter//moving plot)

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

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AN: Sorry for the long update i'm trying not to get evicted bc i was fired a while ago bc of a protest (surprise surprise big companies don't like or care about palestine or other places like it.) but i had to give away my cats and am still struggling i have my socials in my masterpost if you could help if not its okay ily, I hope you like it

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After the three took a break from you, Sukuna pushed Yuuji towards you. Todo just follows along, trying to make sure Sukuna doesn't kill Yuuji as they just don't know what Sukuna could be thinking at times like these.

You lay a top the bed, sheets strayed, your hair messy, your whole body sweaty and broken, you entirely were weak, and Yuuji couldn't stop saying sorry to your fucked out face. "Let's see what you got."

You didn't feel anything for a few minutes until Todo broke the silence. "You've got to do something, brother, you know I'll back you up."

Yuuji just continued to stand there. If he were to fight Sukuna with Todo on his back, he wouldn't know who else would fight with them. Todo would lose everything he already has and would blindly die for him, which he would never ask for. But if he were to go through with fucking you again for Sukuna's enjoyment, Todo would also have to add himself into the situation. This double edged sword was going to stab him either way, but which would hurt you less?

"Don't take too long..." The leader made motion that he was going to start walking towards you two. "NO." Yuuji covered you on the bed, staring off back at his older brother. Todo comes behind Yuuji, putting a hand on his shoulder before giving him a look, and sighing understandingly as he stripped off his shirt.

Todo and Yuuji's was almost awfully awkward at first. They just felt bad, not being able to tell if you were even conscious anymore and continuing to do to you what they were doing.

Really they weren’t allowed to stop until Sukuna was satisfied. Until Yuuji was sobbing, begging him to give you and everyone else a rest. He was asking what would it take to stop this?

The older brother taunts, “Maybe we’ll keep her til she births one of our children, or multiple if she can create sufficient and strong offspring. I don’t know, Yuuji, should I start a farm because of you? I heard the Zenin clan is somewhat similar…”

“Please, please, Sukuna what do you want?” He was breathless. “This has to stop, you can’t-.”

He stops his younger brother, “I have, I did, and I can continue this for as long as you both live. I think that may be the conclusion I’ll come to, don’t you think it would be fun to be an uncle?” His big hands caress your stomach, feigning tenderness to his soon to be child or “sibling’s” child.

- You go back to your room where you stay in for a week.

- A random night, someone breaks in and tries to kidnap you and you didn’t know who it was, obviously you weren’t going with them without an explanation.

-That caused you to fight back as your dealing with everything so far, you were getting pissed being treated like a doll. The person who broke in gets captured, just before he says “Yuuji’s waiting outside, trust me.”

- Sukuna's family come in trying to make sense of the situation and the others had captured the mystery guy

- That's not before he throws you to two female ninjas. They secure you quickly and run back to their master Toji.

- their clan/gang is super powerful, the twins you can guess are Maki and Mai, and Sukuna (the new head of one of the three big families that control the large part of the area, the head of the Kamo gang) had just kidnapped their son, even if he did happen to barge in.

- Megumi’s been friends w Yuuji since they were kids but they never shared that.

- they met bc they were fighting bc yuuji was taught to fight ppl who give them looks (Sukuna wanted him to protect the family name no matter what, and megumi just had that face… and when they realized that they were part of the other side they had to come to extremes before realizing they were different from their families.

- they knocked each other out senseless and somehow one was still alive, megumi sat with yuuji while he regained consciousness and they started to talk more. Battered and bloodied but Yuuji finding the humor in it while Megumi thinks enough to like his character and realizes he’s just a big strong idiot.

- Maki and Mai are close, as sisters should be and they both have their loves (nobara and momo) and we all have to go team up with the gojo clan in order to make sure this trade off is safe and megumi and yuuji aren’t dead

- because now yuuji is with you at the toji clan too, it was supposed to be just you getting captured and then yuuji leaves to live his own life but now he’s in front of toji saying it was his fault that megumi’s now with his brother (sukuna)

- Yuuji explains that he and his son were friends since childhood, he says everything and everyone's on edge bc toji does what he wants, whenever, whatever, really anything for money.

- He says he knows he doesn’t have money, but the only thing he does have was something they both risked their lives for, so toji gets curious and wants to try you out.

- Toji fucks you senseless, making you think the train ran on you were more merciful. He was trying every hole, every position, just dressing you up and doing whatever he could with you, you were actually at your limit with him, enough to bring you back enough to start fighting again. You were getting sick of it, actually you think you were getting sick.

His inconsideration was on par with Sukuna's, though Sukuna cared more about his new objects while Toji wants them to know their place and to leave when he tells them to. He had to know why they would do all that for you//how did you survive so long in that clan he just has to see how durable you are and he’s LOVING IT.

- He asks you what you’ve been through and you don’t respond so he hits you again and again but you don’t cry so he does it AGAIN and you flinch enough to stop him, and start taking off his pants. His only response was "e’s like "Oh so they already trained you."

- You suck his dick and he pulls you up to kiss him, by your neck and places you on his dick and fucks you in the air, using gravity to its full advantage, that was the start of it all before the days of relentless attention and use, you were more sore than any of them have put you in. The hitting, cuts, just the amount of violence he's integrated into your sessions felt like training again, but worse.

- He’s wondering if he could keep you as his slut but remembered that it would be stupid to start a war when his kid couldn’t keep it in his pants. He blames Megumi for having a cold heart compared to his father's icy one.

- Toji makes up his mind to help and plans to betray/kill the sukuna clan when they get megumi back bc he doesn’t care but doesn’t say that.

-He plans a meeting with the other clan the top three have been fighting over the position of this location for years and now and ofc they’re all on edge.

- Gojo comes to the meeting with his clan, they’re not worried bc they know some of their clan can befriend some of the others involved. No ones been dead so they have some sort of unspoken treaty to leave each other alone but they never asked much from the other ever.

- Gojo settles down with his group, smug and tired bc everyone needs them to fix other peoples' problems for them. The community relied on the Gojo Clan to protect them when they also work with the Kamo and Zenin gangs, the people outside are just as gullible. He sits down and asks what could big ol Toji need from him,

- “It’s Megumi”

- Gojo drops his smile. Their other unspoken alliance was when Megumi was beaten up at a really young age bc of his status and itadori happened to be there too (same elementary school). Gojo beats the fuck out of the people who targeted the kids/second to heir the clans, and left, but Megumi finds him and asks why would he help them.

- Gojo said he can’t have his competition get angry, his people are at stake. (referencing to the shifting power in-between the gangs that they didn't know about yet, and that his person was leaving his clan to join the other, he didn't know why he was doing anything anymore at that point but he couldn't let more powerless powerful children get hated on.) Megumi says thank you and takes Itadori back near his gang before disappearing back to his clan.

- Gojo actually has been in contact with his friend who's joined the other clan. That's how he knows what's usually going on with them to keep them rangled up and behaving as much as they could to not cause trouble or cause attention to groups like theirs.

Gojo and Geto were very young when they met, and since their lives were everything but normal, they were given the chance to take in more young bodies to add to their clan. They raised them together, but geto left.

Gojo begged for days for him to reconsider, they day he left he was inconsolable, especially since he took the twins too. Geto couldn't separate the girls, but he could separate himself from Gojo, in his head it's to help Gojo in the future because of the power he'll have.

Gojo didn't care about that, he didn't want help he just wanted Geto. That was all he needed, he had decided. He could have ruled the world and done it confidently if he had Geto by his side, but things don't go through when you're young, and now you're about to catch as many years he hadn't been able to get out.

- He's not nice at all when you're under his care. With Geto leaving at a critical age in learning, his feelings had been all over the place. He was completely disordered, his goals and morals and everything went awry, with the years he couldn't get himself out of the timestamp of when he knew happiness.

- So he asks you about Geto, his best friend, the only one that could make him feel real again. The one person who didn't do things for him because of his name and status, and yet left with the excuse of protecting Gojo from future evil. It was enough to drive the strongest insane.

- He asks you everything by torture, not too physical that anyone can see. WHen trading you back you should at least look and act like you're in the same condition, if not better than what you were when they traded you off. Just anything that Toji didn't already give you, Gojo would have mindless enjoyment from digging his fingers into the fatter parts of your belly, legs, and forearms.

- He’s only doing this to see Geto again. He just wants to pass the time until he can finally feel good again. He's strong, he's smart, he's beautiful, when would life be good to him instead of him making everyone else's lives better just by being there. It made him coky, it made him secretly weak willed to his own desires, so his processing was different than most.

- He asks u what he looked like and everything about him while fucking you. it was the closest he’s got rn. "I don't know's" made him reel back more, his strikes becoming almost boneshaking and shattering. He was making Toji seem gentle. Now that something he cares about is just a memory away, he just couldn't stop himself.

-You were so close to him, even if you never spoke to him, even if you never saw him in the maybe month you were staying at the Pink haired clan. But his aura seemed to have darkened when you mentioned twins. There were just so many either of you could have known but it just seemed to rile him up more. Seriously you would need a doctor and healing time after this. You couldn't let that happen again.

-There was nothing else to take from it, it was a hell you would only wish for the person already committing it. It made you miss the tenderness of Sukuna and the warmth of Toji, it didn't matter what they did or how you got there, anything sounded better than Gojo being without his favorite things. And you were barely part of it.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Series

sinag — psh.

chapter two

synopsis: waiting for a great plot twist in your life, the ruthless and powerful mafia boss park sunghoon forced his way in to it.

pairings: park sunghoon x reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings: a contains violence, guns, killings, abuse, obsessive love & other stuff. if you can't take this stuff, feel free to scroll away. let me know if i missed some.

note: not proof read. sinag’s chapter will usually have 2k-3k words. i'm sorry if there’s grammatical errors. enjoy reading and my ask are open for your messages. thank you so much!

© eeunoia 2023 — all rights reserved.

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

“Calm down, Kwon.” a man wearing a formal attire focused his eyes at the scene beneath him, standing proudly in front of the big glass windows of his office. He holds a cup of whiskey on his hand, the other one inside his pockets.

“Calm down?” his tone frantic as he slightly slams the coffee table near him. His fists balled, jaw clenching feeling perturbed by the situation they’re tangled in.

“Your son is uncontrolled! This arrangement was long overdue! You know we already need to do something about this.” he added.

The man remained calmed and collected despite his opposite demeanor. He went here out of frustrations in hope to come up with a solution for their problem and all he gets is a couple words of consolement. If anything, that's the last thing he needs.

“I am doing my best to convince my son, Luis.” he slowly turns to face the raging man. The placid look on his face pretty much mirrors the same with the young mafia boss they are discussing about. The main reason of their distress and troubled affairs.

“You out of all people knows that convincing your son is already out of the choices.” the man stoods and stares straight to his eyes.

“He’s stubborn and proud.”

“Mainly why we shouldn’t act repulsively. Sunghoon knows when to play his cards and is not stupid.” he took a quick sip from his glass and pursed his lips into a thin line.

“He is unpredictable and moves only to his demand. He was never born to be controlled. He's my own flesh and blood afterall.” the proud smile spreads across his face that only adds to Mr. Kwon’s anger.

“But he’s now going crazy over some girl? Is this the same boy you are blabbering about?” the man scoffs that faded the smirk on Mr. Park’s face.

“If we cannot do anything with your son might as well start by getting rid of that girl.” the look on his face were shameless. The way he talks was too casual that you’ll think he’s just commanding a luggage to be discarded somewhere.

“We have to find her before he does.” he fixed his coat while still keeping his dark, serious gazes over Mr. Park.

“In order to solve the problem, we need go dispose the one causing them.” he stated with firmness to his tone indication of want on immediate action.

“I will expect a bigger progress soon, Steven.” he starts heading towards the door, one of his man held it for him. He stops from his tracks and craned his neck to the man by the windows, “I’m not a very forgiving and patient person. You know that.”

He left the room and Mr. Park was lost with his own thoughts. His emotions at a mess that rarely happens. The lack of sense in the current situation was very unusual of him. All he can think of is his son and the tangled connection link between the Kwon family.

From the plane to your way to the hotel, you are well taken care of. The stress and worries you’ve been feeling when you stepped at the airport hours ago were vanished into thin air. It was crazy and you can’t even believe that you’re actually thinking that this trip isn’t so bad at the moment. Like as if you aren’t the same girl in distress for being sent over for this.

“This way to your room, Madam.” one hotel staff guides you in this beautiful suite. It was a hug room with a breathtaking view of the city beneath you.

The streets are busy, people rushing towards somewhere, cars honking at each other but it didn’t spoil the ambiance of the place. You giggled and eyes shut for a couple seconds, embracing the breeze blowing towards you. It surely gives off a different vibe, the feeling of being new to the place slowly gets into your system.

Scary, but thrilling. You are feeling anxious and all but staying in a fancy hotel with a rowdy surrounding rather than secluded villa sure comforts you a thousand times better.

You are snapped out from your trance when you remembers the main agenda of your trip. Letting out a strained sigh, you walked towards your bag to fish out the well planned schedule that was prepared for you. It’s like a list of things to be accomplished along the trip. It sounds like something not of a big deal since this is a business trip afterall, but the amount is what’s gets you. Thankfully, they did left your first day vacant.

Another strained sigh liberates out from you, making your lungs feel more lighter. So much for enjoying this trip. You tried to find the brighter side of it. The things you will learn from the seminars and basically from the experience here will be much to your gain.

You ordered room service for lunch and decided to rest for a bit before roaming around near the hotel for the rest of the day. The next day, its work day so while waiting for your first agenda, you ordered food for lunch. If the place was great, of course the food was fantastic. It is expected and it didn’t disappoint. You enjoyed your meal and soon starts preparing for your errands.

Today’s task is an uncomplicated one. Pretty much a warm up for the upcoming busy two weeks of your stay here. You dress up cutely and comfortably before deciding on heading downstairs to ask the lobby for some directions.

On the other hand, multiple cars parked right in front of the hotel. People’s eyes darted curiously at the scene, some chooses to continue their day after watching for a while. Sunghoon went out of his black range rover and dominantly roams his eyes around, causing the lingering eyes of some individuals to tear away.

His intimidating aura just causes some to even stop at their tracks and give way to the handsome man. He didn’t give any care and went inside along with some of his men, tossing his car keys to the valley incharge without sparing him a glance. The boy bowed paying his respect, slightly anxious not to do any mistake.

Arriving at the hotel lobby, staffs bows as he walks by. It didn’t stop people to stare at him. His face is not one to be missed anyway.

His men clicks the elevator open and Sunghoon steps inside. After pressing the floor where his room was booked, the door closes. The people who's about to ride the elevator hesitates and decided not to join him.

As the door of the elevator closes, the one beside opens and you steps outside. Smiling to the people waiting just in front of it. They seem fazed about something that made you curious. Your eyes looks at the elevator beside you, but it was close and the lights above says its moving up the building.

Dismissing that matter, you shrug off your shoulders and walks towards the lobby to go ask for directions.

Sunghoon sighs and walks outside the elevator when he arrived the floor. The hallway was empty.

“What are you doing here?” his jaw clenches and his fist balled tightly at the sight of a man sat comfortably in the middle of the room.

He’s alone, at least here inside, and a glass of whiskey sat near him on a coffee table. The man smiles a little and opens his arms as a welcoming gesture.

Sunghoon furrowed his brows and kept his unamused expression.

“Is that how you greet your dad?” his Dad crosses his legs and gave him this stare.

Despite feeling so angry, Sunghoon grinned.

“Dad?” he scoffs. “Since when did you act like one?” his rude words pricks something inside Mr. Park’s chest, but he knew he was in no place to complain.

He took part on why Sunghoon became like this. He was part of his dark childhood that led him to be ruthless. He may feel sorry right now, but there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. All there’s left was to convince him over to do the arrangement and save him from any possible outrage of the Kwon family.

“Son,” he calls, tone longing.

Sunghoon face reflects disgust at what he heard. “Don’t you dare call me that.” he coldly rejects.

“What are you doing here? How did you know that I’m here?” his questions are full of suspicion for the older man. This isn’t the first time he did this, but its still so odd that he couldn’t help to not let his guard down.

“I’m here to talk to you.” he answers one of it, but leaves out one. It didn’t slipped off from Sunghoon and sure he isn’t someone to disregard it as well.

“There’s nothing to talk about with you.” he grunts, letting him know that there is no way he can expect him to cooperate.

He turns his heels and was about to head out when his father talks once again.

“Marry Luna.” his words were short and direct.

Sunghoon halt from his steps and the crease to his forehead disappears along the emotions in his eyes.

He slowly craned his neck to look at his dad.

“Didn’t Mr. Kwon told you what we talked about the last time he went to see me?” he smirks with no humor.

“Please, son. That is planned ahead even before you’re even born.”

“If you’re too desperate in making her marry a Park, why not you do it?” he suggests in complete taunt.

“Park Sunghoon!” his Father shouts.

Seeing his father lose composure and frustrated like this, sooths something in Sunghoon. It feels something accomplishing in some part of him. He smirks unbothered of his Father’s threatening tone.

“This will be the last time you and Mr. Kwon will bother me about this stupid marriage.” he states, back to being very serious. His eyes dark, almost mirroring his father’s.

“It will never happen. He can have a gun pointed at my head during the wedding and I still won’t say ‘I do’.” he smoothly puts his hands inside his pocket.

“Don’t make me do something you will regret. Stop pushing my buttons,” Sunghoon tilts his head. “... Dad.”

Mr. Park was lost of words. He felt shivers run his spine at how cold his tone was. He can’t remember when he became like this. What did he do for him to end up like the cold ruthless person he is right now?

His mind was occupied for a while before he snaps back to his senses. He sighed and rest his back on the chair before massaging his temple. He expects no easy way to convince Sunghoon into this. And as much as he hates how Mr. Kwon last resort of solution to their problem, he was left with no other choice.

He’s doing this for his son.

He fished his phone from his pocket and dials someone’s phone number. “Did you ask the lobby about a reservation under the name Aelia Choi.”

He waits for the response of his assistant from the other line. He received a tip that Sunghoon gathers info that the girl he’s searching for are booked in this hotel. He figured his son will come here to search for her so he decided to take the opportunity of talking to him.

“There’s none, Sir.”

His brows furrowed, a little confused. Disappointed for probably another false information. A part of him felt sympathy for his son, he’s been searching for her and still no concrete leads of her whereabouts. Another, felt relieved. He can’t comprehend what crazy things his son can do for this girl. He can only mean bad for him. If he’s this wreckless for her right now, what more if he found her.

“All right, ready my vehicle.” he commands and ended the call.

After asking for details and asking assistance for your ride to the city. Waiting patiently, your brows furrowed curiously at the sight of men in black appearing the hotel’s lobby. They aren’t that many, but enough to catch attention. Their black similar uniforms sure captures people’s curiosity.

The view makes you remember of a particular night of your life. It makes you nervous, pressing your lungs and light pinches to your heart. It wasn’t pleasant for you so you quickly glanced away and move towards a more isolated part of the hotel.

From a distance, you watch how they move in an organize manner. It was evident how disciplined and well connected they are to each other. Their built and postures sure insinuates how dutiful they are. It seems like they are there to protect someone. Someone very important.

Everybody went back to normal once they left the premises. You can hear some of them still talks about the said person that just left. Uninterested, you walks towards the lady at the front desk.

“Can I ask a room service once I get back?” you ask smiling. The lady returns and smiled warmly at you.

“Under what name of reservation?” she asks.

“Oh, under Mr. (boss name).” you pursed your lips as she tries to check something on her computer. Patiently, you roam your eyes around the hotel lobby.

You noticed another group of men wearing suits pretty similar to the ones from before. This time, you saw the man walking in between them. He seemed like a very powerful man. His hair perfectly fixed, some gray strands can be seen even from the distance but it didn’t make him look that old. If anything, he looks like a Dad of a very attractive offsprings.

You didn’t realized you’ve been staring too much. Thankfully, the lady at desk calls your attention. The moment you looked away, the man gazed at you. Both of you clueless about how each other will soon make a big change to your lives, missed the opportunity to meet due to uncertain timing

“What time will you be back for the room service, Ma’am?” she asked.

You gave her the time you possibly back from your errands. Thanking her softly before going on with your day, unaware of what lies ahead of you.

“Hello, Riki?”

He heard some muffled sound from the other line, “Yeah, hyung?” the younger one responds.

“I think there’s a rat in my men. They’ve been snitching on my Dad about my whereabouts.” he continuously says in a cold tone. He’s not yet sure if hes right, but what could possibly the reason of the unexpected appearance of his father?

He’s very strict on sharing infos of his life, specially when it involves about his search of you.

“I want you to find who it is and report back to me.”

“On it.” he replies and chuckles. “This is not free, hyung.” the younger one teased.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Just send me the bill.” and he ends the call before resting his back on his chair.

He’s inside his private jet. He went straight here after the encounter with his dad. The pilot waits for his command to fly and go back, but for some reason he felt something’s stopping him.

The plan of searching for you at this place sure is already sabotaged. He hope what they received was just a false information or else he will make his Dad pay for missing you once again. He tries hard to convince himself that its also probably his father who tipped him so he can have time to talk. But he can’t get rid of the thought that you might be near him. It’s making him suffer.

He have no idea how many times he will feel this way in the future, but he doesn’t care. He will never stop looking for you, even if it means he have to spend his whole life hoping that you two will meet again without a definite certainty that it’ll happen.

here ‹ chapter one | chapter three › here

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@heeseung-min

[red-might-be-dead]

hello hi here to force strange thoughts into your brain once again, this time about jrwi (wow who could’ve guessed)

been thinking about this for a little but it’s basically what i think some campaigns would be if not podcasts, i haven’t listened to some of the older ones so i’m sorry they’re not on here :(( if you have any ideas feel free to add them btw :DD

RIPTIDE!!!!! - really long animated series

not an anime though, no matter how much grizzly wants it, it would be an animation style where the characters could have very clearly different nose, face and body shapes, really pushing my riptide nose agenda here sorry, each episode would be like 20-40 minutes long and instead of coming out in seasons there would be massive gaps in between episodes, from 2-6 months long, to leave time for writers and animators to get stuff done (massive team of animators btw, i feel like it would be pretty successful)

PRIME DEFENDERS!! - comics

literally nothing else they could be, just really well made, well performing comics (i’ve already talked about this before you can stalk my talk tag if you really want to find it lmao), the comic company making them would be keeping well away from movies n shit btw

APOTHEOSIS!!! - i wasn’t really sure about this one to be honest

i had to ask my friend and she said anime which i don’t agree with but i can see it, i think maybe a short book series where each book is 150 - 300 pages and is about a different god they have to kill/a different episode, i think that works but if anyone has any better ideas please tell me :D!!

BLOOD IN THE BAYOU!!! - i hate to say it, i really do…

bitb would be a really long really good 80s horror book with strong homoerotic undertones, a satisfied fanbase and lots of active members in the community making fan comics, films, writing, theories and art ect… until well after the book came out……….. and then it would be made into the most egregious and awful live action movie you have ever seen, the most awful casting (like chris pratt as officer dudes….. throws up) and even worse sfx, oh yeah and the characters would be ruined and the story would become so butchered it wouldn’t make sense, they would do some shit like cut out becky so kian just kisses some random lady (removing both a really good and well written character and a layer of kian’s character that i think is super important) and make rolan really be an evil bug spy the whole time so rand has to kill him to save the town also add in a whole new sub plot that never existed like the rand family is secretly a long line of bug alien hunters or something fucking stupid like that and the entire fanbase would murder whoever thought re-writing the story was a good idea (ahaha can you tell ive been through something like this before ahahaha, character morals and motives being removed and whatnot ahahahhahahaha.)

anyways………

THE SUCKENING!!! - live action series

it would be well made though, unlike the bitb movie it would be its own original thing, have great makeup and effects also be well casted and well shot, well written, ect ect, it would bloody and gory and not suitable for people who can’t handle showing bones and organs all over everywhere, lots of shitty rip off merch would be made though and the fandom would be 99% gay little freaks (normal suckening enjoyers) and 1% homophobic straight white men who get mad whenever they see soda and emizel having gay sex on screen or whatever fag shit that biting thing was

again feel free to add your thoughts and ideas and shit in the reblogs it would be nice to read them :DD!!