#still have a charm of him on my keys though

[nobodysdaydreams]

I enjoy looking through these Wicked AU’s where the Wizard stays and raises Elphaba and becomes a (still evil and very morally questionable) but loving father to her and her friends. However, I have a controversial opinion that this works best when the Wizard is written as someone who becomes a dad in his early 20’s/college age.

Like no offense to Jeff Golblum’s casting, he does a fantastic job, but he’s also in his 70s, which would make him in his 40s when he had Elphaba, and I just do not see that for the Wizard. Crying about how “yes, he was hooking up with random women and drinking strange beverages and yeah, he always wanted to be a dad, but no, he never ever considered that one thing might lead to the other because he was too busy enjoying his youth! His 42-year-old youth, far too young to consider fatherhood even on the table even though it was all he ever wanted and he had a whole song about it.”? I just personally feel like the Wizard’s actions make so much more sense for someone who’s in their early 20’s, just arrived in a magic land, is a generally selfish and irresponsible person, and isn’t considering the future or long term impact of their actions. Plus this man is from the late 1800s/early 1900s so whatever level of child development knowledge you picture this version of the Wizard having, lower it even further if you can.

With this in mind, I would appreciate a Wicked AU where if the Wizard is gonna stick around to try to be a dad, his young age and carefree, irresponsible, and somewhat selfish attitude is reflected in his parenting choices. He’s not a teen dad, but he’s certainly not much older. Melena Thropp hands him the baby and is he’s like “why is she green?” And she’s like “I don’t know, but my husband can’t know about this, so that’s your problem now.” And the Wizard’s like “well, I suppose this is what happens when you repeatedly hook up with an older married woman in a magical land and drink weird potions with her. Wasn’t how I envisioned becoming a dad, but at least it’s not the weirdest Friday I’ve ever had.”

Then he takes Elphaba traveling with him and tries using the “loving single dad” image to impress women like he’s in a Hallmark movie, while also trying to casually ask people for advice on kids because he doesn’t have a clue. When do you send them to school? Do they have schools in Oz? Should he try to homeschool her? Elphaba starts reading on her own and instead of concluding she has great mysterious power the Wizard is like “wow, my little girl’s so smart, I guess some kids can just do that aren’t I lucky I don’t have to teach her?” and never questions it. No clue how child development works. No clue what is age appropriate. He’s taking five year old Elphaba along with him when he performs magic tricks in bars at midnight. He’s taking her to evil business meetings as he’s plotting to take over Oz when she’s too young to know what’s happening. His advisors witness Elphaba’s skill, tell him she’s the key to securing their power for all time, and he’s like “right? My daughter is so special, she’s my lucky charm! 🥰” not even realizing she’s obviously the witch that was prophesied because he thought all of Elphaba’s skills were just cute little quirks. The Wizard’s advisors suggest blaming the Animals, and the Wizard’s like “no, we can’t do that. My daughter loves them. We will blame someone else and spread malicious lies about them instead.” Like he’s still evil, he’s still scum, but he’s also like “I’m a dad now. I can’t arrest and torture my child’s friends. I’ve gotten a “father of the year” award in my Father’s Day card for the past nine years, I cannot jeopardize that when I’m so close to a decade winning streak.”

Eventually, Elphaba uncovers every evil thing her father is doing at like 14 and defeats him and his advisors with her super powerful magic because the Wizard’s advisors have been training her this whole time, hoping she’ll become their weapon while the Wizard has been encouraging her as a loving dad telling her she can “be anything she wants to be” and making sure all of Oz adores her. So when Elphaba defeats his armies, takes over Oz, and exposes all his crimes, he’s not even that mad. A little teenage rebellion, that’s all this is, plus her skill is so impressive, the Wizard can’t help but be a little proud, and she’s running things better than he ever could, so why not just let her do her thing and go back to building model replicas of Oz in the garage? His advisors are begging him to stop her and he’s like “why? She’s doing such a good job!” “She defeated us for all time! A pathetic child!” “Super powerful child is more like it. How could I not be proud?” “But you’re her father! Do something! Stop her! We must bring her down!” “Nonsense, teen rebellion is normal. All teenagers say stuff like “I want more independence” and “Dad, I love you, but what you and your friends are doing is morally bankrupt and as much as it hurts me, I have to stand up for what’s right even if it means standing against you”. It’s fine! It’s just a phase. Chill out and let the kid and her friends run things. Enjoy the retirement. I know I am.” “Sir, you’re only 38.” “Exactly. The perfect retirement age. I’m an old man.” “But Elphaba single handily defeated our armies! Her power is out of control and cannot be contained!” “Again, all I’m hearing is how impressive she is. And to think, it’s all thanks to me. Raising her as a single father and she becomes the most powerful witch in all of Oz, can you believe it? Gosh, I’m wonderful.”

[baekguuuuu]

The Way I Loved You

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Angst, Romance

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s The Way I Loved You. Through flashbacks and present-day reflections, you navigate the highs and lows of both relationships, ultimately confronting what your heart truly wants. A story of passion, longing, and self-discovery, this is a journey of realizing that sometimes, the love that burns the brightest is the one that leaves you scorched.

I met Baekhyun during a summer that I still replay in my mind sometimes, like a sun-drenched film reel I can’t bring myself to burn. It was at a music festival where he’d performed with his band. I wasn’t supposed to be there—my friends had dragged me along, insisting it would be fun that I needed to live a little.

“You’ll love it,” my best friend had said, nudging me toward the front of the crowd as Baekhyun’s band took the stage. She was wrong, though. I didn’t love it.

I fell.

Baekhyun had this way of commanding attention, his voice like honey dripping into the sunlight, thick and golden and impossible to resist. But it wasn’t just his voice; it was the way his eyes sparkled with mischief when he cracked a joke between songs and the way he laughed like the world existed just to amuse him. He was magnetic, and I was the iron.

After the set, I found myself backstage with my friends, courtesy of one’s VIP connections. Baekhyun spotted me immediately as if I’d been glowing in the dark. “Hey,” he said, his voice still hoarse from singing. “Enjoy the show?”

I should’ve played it cool. Instead, I blurted, “You were incredible.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “What’s your name?”

Our relationship was a whirlwind, a thrilling ride on the back of his motorcycle, the city lights blurring into a tapestry of excitement. Baekhyun was unlike anyone I’d ever met, a mix of chaos and charm wrapped in leather jackets and calloused fingertips. He made me feel alive in ways that both scared and thrilled me.

We fell fast and hard, like a meteor streaking across the sky—brilliant, unforgettable, and destined to burn out. But I didn’t know that then. All I knew was the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world, the way he made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, the way he kissed me like it was the only thing that mattered.

Being with Baekhyun was like living in a whirlwind. It was thrilling, unpredictable, and chaotic—sometimes in ways that left me breathless and other times in ways that made my chest ache. We burned bright, but bright flames have a way of leaving marks.

It wasn’t always chaos with Baekhyun. He had a way of being so disarmingly sweet, of pulling me into his world with a smile or a glance. I still remember the night he taught me to play the piano.

We were at his apartment, a modest space cluttered with sheet music and half-empty coffee mugs. He pulled me toward the small upright piano tucked against the wall, a mischievous grin lighting up his face.

“Come here,” he said, patting the bench beside him. “I’m going to teach you something.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I can barely manage using chopsticks. What makes you think I can learn anything else?”

“Because I’m the best teacher,” he said with mock arrogance, his fingers playing a gentle melody that made my heart skip. “And because I believe in you.”

His words made my cheeks flush, but I sat beside him, letting him place my hands on the keys. His touch was warm, guiding my fingers with patient precision. Every time I fumbled, he’d laugh softly, his voice like a soothing balm.

“You’re getting it,” he said, his eyes sparkling with pride as I managed a simple tune.

When I finally got it right, he turned to me, his face just inches from mine. “See? You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice low and earnest.

At that moment, the world outside faded away. It was just Baekhyun and me, the music lingering in the air like a promise. And when he leaned in to kiss me, his lips soft and full of affection, I knew I was falling—fast and hard.

It started with the little things. His tendency to cancel plans at the last minute because something more exciting came up. The way he could be so charming with everyone but distant when it was just us. I told myself it was just how he was, that he didn’t mean to hurt me. And when he apologized, when he pulled me close and whispered how much I meant to him, I believed him every time.

I remembered being at a party, one of those gatherings in which Baekhyun always thrived. He stood at the center of the living room, laughing effortlessly, his charm magnetic as everyone gravitated toward him. The way he commanded attention was almost unfair—effortless, natural, like he was born to shine under every light in the room.

I watched him from the couch, holding a half-empty glass of wine and trying not to let the pang of loneliness creep up on me. Baekhyun threw his head back at something someone said, his laugh lighting up the room, and for a moment, I felt that familiar tug in my chest. He was breathtaking like this—untouchable and dazzling.

But then his eyes flickered to me. Just for a second. And instead of warmth or an invitation, there was... nothing.

“Hey,” I called softly when he finally made his way over, his drink in hand. “You having fun?”

“Yeah, it’s great,” he said, his voice distant. His gaze darted around the room, already looking for his next conversation.

“Baekhyun,” I said, reaching for his arm. “Can we talk for a second?”

He frowned, pulling his arm back like my touch burned him. “Now? Can’t it wait? Everyone’s here—I don’t want to kill the mood.”

Everyone was there. The words hit me harder than I wanted to admit.

“It’s just... you’ve barely talked to me all night,” I murmured, keeping my voice low.

His eyes softened, but only briefly. “I’m sorry. You know how I get at these things. I’ll come find you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Later.”

But later never came.

I stayed on the couch, watching him charm the room while feeling more invisible than I ever had. He apologized the next day, and the cycle continued.

The apologies became too frequent, and the moments of closeness felt like borrowed time.

“You said you’d be there, Baekhyun,” I said, my voice trembling as I clutched my phone.

“I forgot, okay?” he replied, his tone dismissive, like forgetting my graduation ceremony for getting my Master’s was no big deal.

“You forgot?” My laugh was bitter. “Do you know how embarrassing it was, standing there alone while everyone else had their families and friends?”

“I didn’t ask you to rely on me for everything!” he shot back.

The line went quiet as I stared at my reflection in the window, his words slicing through me like a blade. Rely on him? Wasn’t that what people in love were supposed to do?

For all the chaos that came with loving Baekhyun, there were moments that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Like the time he surprised me with a late-night picnic under the stars because I’d mentioned missing the quiet of my childhood summers. Or how he’d rest his head in my lap and trace invisible patterns on my skin, murmuring about how lucky he was to have me.

He had this way of making me feel seen, as though I wasn’t just someone he loved, but someone he adored. Someone he respected. With Baekhyun, it wasn’t just about passion—it was about the way he’d hold my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, or how he’d kiss my forehead as if sealing a promise only he could understand.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispered breathlessly as I lay beneath him. He collapsed on top of me, our bare chests touching against one another as we both caught our breaths after expressing love through actions.

He made me feel like a real woman, like I was more than just his girlfriend. Like I was his muse, his equal, and his refuge all at once. And in those moments, I forgot about the fights, the letdowns, the parts of him that hurt me. Because in the way he loved me, I felt whole.

But it wasn’t just the fights. It was the in-betweens. The way he’d light up a room, captivating everyone, only for me to realize I was standing in the shadows. The way he’d make promises that felt so solid in the moment but crumbled under the weight of his restless energy. The way he’d kiss me like I was his whole world, only to turn around and leave me wondering where I stood.

Then came the night that ended it all.

We were standing in the rain, arguing over something I couldn’t even remember now. His face was a mix of frustration and sadness as raindrops traced his sharp features. “Why can’t you just trust me?” he yelled, his voice carrying over the downpour.

“Trust you?” I shot back, my voice cracking. “You disappear for hours, break promises, and you expect me to trust you? You can’t keep doing this, Baekhyun!”

“I’m trying!” he shouted, stepping closer. “I’m trying to be better for you, but it’s never enough, is it?”

I could feel the tears mixing with the rain as I whispered, “I just want to feel like I matter to you. Like I’m not always chasing after you, trying to catch up.”

His silence said more than any words could. And that was the moment I knew. We loved each other but weren’t enough to make it work. Not then.

Although Baekhyun did try to fix it—us… however, it was too late then.

It had been two weeks since we broke up, but Baekhyun still called—persistent, unrelenting, just like the way he loved.

When I answered, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “Can we talk?”

I hesitated. “Baekhyun, we’ve said everything already. There’s nothing left to talk about.”

“No,” he cut me off, his tone firm. “You talked, and I listened. Now it’s my turn.”

Reluctantly, I agreed to meet him at the café where we used to spend lazy Sunday afternoons. When I arrived, he was already there, sitting by the window with two cups of coffee on the table. He looked up, his expression a mixture of hope and fear, and for a brief moment, my heart clenched.

“I know I messed up,” he began the moment I sat down. “And I know I don’t deserve it, but I need you to give me another chance.”

I stared at him, trying to find the anger, the bitterness, anything that would drown out the faint longing I felt just being near him. “Baekhyun, we didn’t work. You know that.”

“I can change,” he said, leaning closer. “I will change. I’ll prove it to you, I swear. Just don’t give up on us.”

I shook my head, my voice trembling. “It’s not just about you needing to change. It’s about me, too. I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough for you, like I have to keep chasing you to stay in this relationship. It hurts too much.”

His eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced myself to stand. “I know. But love isn’t enough if we keep hurting each other.”

I left him sitting there, his hand still outstretched, and I didn’t look back.

It wasn’t the last time I saw Baekhyun.

It happened on a crisp evening outside the cozy bistro Chanyeol had picked for dinner. The warm light from the restaurant spilled onto the sidewalk as we stepped out, laughter lingering between us. Chanyeol had his arm around me, casual and protective, as we talked about the movie we planned to watch next.

Then I saw him.

Baekhyun was leaning against his motorcycle, his leather jacket slightly unzipped, revealing a hoodie underneath. His helmet dangled from his fingers, and his eyes, dark and searching, found mine almost instantly.

I froze, my breath catching. He didn’t move closer, didn’t call my name. He simply stood there, his gaze flickering briefly to Chanyeol and back to me.

“Do you know him?” Chanyeol asked, his voice breaking through my trance.

“Yes,” I managed, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s... Baekhyun.”

Understanding dawned in Chanyeol’s eyes. “Do you want to—?”

“No,” I interrupted, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go.”

But as Chanyeol got his car keys from the valet, I found myself glancing back. Baekhyun was still there, watching us with a calmness that unnerved me.

Later that night, I texted him. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

His reply was immediate. “I didn’t come there to make a scene. I just wanted to see you. I’ll always want to see you.”

My hands trembled as I typed my next message, wanting to leave me alone as I was already with someone. “Chanyeol is everything you’re not. He’s steady, reliable, and perfect in every way.”

His response came after a long pause. “I know. But does he make you happy?”

I stared at the screen, the question echoing louder than I cared to admit.

For weeks after our breakup, Baekhyun had tried. He’d texted me late at night, asking if we could talk, only for me to leave him on read. He’d show up outside my building, waiting in the cold just to catch a glimpse of me, but I’d slip past him with my head down.

At first, I thought he’d never stop. That Baekhyun would always fight for us the way he used to fight for his music. But then, one day, he didn’t. The calls stopped. The texts stopped. The spaces where his presence used to linger felt hauntingly empty.

Chanyeol’s hand rested gently on mine as he drove us back to his place. The radio played softly in the background, something easy and inoffensive. He glanced at me, his smile warm and steady. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

“Long week, huh?” he said, squeezing my hand.

“Yeah,” I echoed, the word feeling heavy in my mouth. Long, but not in the way he thought.

Chanyeol was perfect. He was everything I thought I wanted. But lately, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing—or rather, someone.

I hated myself for it. For thinking of Baekhyun when Chanyeol was right there, being thoughtful and kind and everything Baekhyun never was. But the heart doesn’t care about logic, decency, or what’s fair. The heart wants what it wants, even when it’s the last thing you need.

Everything in my life was perfect, actually. From the immaculately arranged breakfast trays to the gentle good mornings that greeted me, nothing was ever out of place. Not him, not the way he loved me—kindly, patiently, like I was the most delicate thing in the world.

Chanyeol was different. Steady. Consistent. Reliable in ways Baekhyun never was. He’d show up on time, remember the little things, and genuinely listen when I spoke. He was warm and patient, a safe harbor in the storm that had been my life with Baekhyun.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked as he wrapped his arm behind me, placing a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder. The sunlight filtering through the curtains felt almost too perfect. 

I nodded, offering him a small smile. “I did. Thank you for asking.”

“You know, we could go for a picnic this weekend,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “The weather’s been lovely lately.”

That’s how it always was—planned, predictable, steady. And yet, I found myself drifting off, my mind wandering to a time when nothing about my life was steady. Back to a time when Baekhyun would show up unannounced, his motorcycle roaring in the distance, his grin wide and wild.

“Get on!” he’d yell, not even giving me time to protest. The wind whipping through my hair as we sped through the streets had been chaos—unrestrained, untamed, exhilarating chaos.

“Does that sound good?” Chanyeol’s voice pulled me back to the present.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, blinking at him.

He chuckled softly. “The picnic. This Saturday?”

“Oh. Yes, that sounds… nice.”

When we started dating, I thought I’d found what I’d been missing. He made me feel cared for, and valued in a way I’d longed for during my time with Baekhyun. My friends were ecstatic when I told them about Chanyeol. 

“He’s so perfect for you,” they’d say, their eyes glinting with approval. Even my parents, who were always wary of the guys I dated, took an instant liking to him. They adored his polite manners, his steady career, and the way he treated me with respect.

“He’s everything we could have hoped for you,” my mom had gushed over dinner one night, her smile so wide it hurt to look at.

But there was one thing he couldn’t do: he couldn’t make my heart race the way Baekhyun did.

It wasn’t fair to compare them, but my mind did it anyway. Chanyeol’s hugs were warm, but they didn’t leave me dizzy. His kisses were soft and sweet but didn’t set my skin on fire. His laughter was kind but didn’t echo in my chest like Baekhyun’s.

“You okay?” Chanyeol asked, noticing the faraway look in my eyes.

“Yeah,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important,” I lied. How could I tell him what I was thinking about Baekhyun? How much did I miss the chaos, the fire, and the way he made me feel alive even when he was breaking my heart?

Chanyeol nudged my upper body so I could face him. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear; his thumb never left the skin of my cheek.

“You’re perfect, you know that?”

The words from him should have made my heart soar. His voice was calm, steady, full of certainty—the kind I’d spent years craving. But instead of feeling weightless, I felt heavy, like every part of me was tied to something I couldn’t quite see.

“Thank you,” I murmured, my smile politely measured. He deserved that much. 

I knew very well that Chanyeol deserved someone who could give him more than vague responses and distant smiles—someone who could love him the way he loved me—with unwavering calm and clarity. But my heart, stupid and stubborn as it was, still ached for something else. Someone else.

It happened on a quiet afternoon. Chanyeol and I were at his apartment, sorting through takeout boxes while a soft playlist played in the background. He was humming along, his warm, familiar presence filling the room.

I should’ve been content. Happy, even. But as I watched him move around with practiced ease, I felt a strange hollowness creeping in—a sense that something essential was missing.

The second I turned my head, the ghost of Baekhyun’s laughter crashed into me like a wave. Loud. Chaotic. Carefree. And all at once, I was drowning again, swallowed whole by the memory of him.

The weight of my realization grew heavier with every passing day. Pretending that everything was fine with Chanyeol felt like suffocating under the mask I wore. I wanted to be fair to him, to not let my heart wander when he had done nothing but love me. But the truth was, I wasn’t entirely his, and I never had been.

It hit me one quiet evening while Chanyeol and I were watching a movie. He had his arm around me, his steady presence a comfort I knew I didn’t deserve.

I’d sworn I wanted stability, but stability felt like numbness. And as I sat there, nestled in Chanyeol’s embrace, I realized I didn’t feel anything close to what I used to feel for Baekhyun. Not even a shadow of it.

Chanyeol turned to me with a small smile as we sat on his couch. “You’ve been quiet. What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the chaos swirling in my head. “Just... thinking about life.”

“Anything specific?” he asked gently, his hand resting on mine.

And that’s when it hit me—how much I missed Baekhyun.

I missed his fire, his unpredictability, the way he could make me feel like I was the center of his chaotic universe. I missed how he could pull me into his orbit with just one look, how his laughter could chase away the darkest clouds. I missed him, even with all his flaws, because loving Baekhyun was like standing in the middle of a storm and feeling more alive than ever.

Chanyeol was perfect in every way, but he wasn’t Baekhyun. He couldn’t make my heart race or my world tilt on its axis. And I realized then, with painful clarity, that I was holding on to Chanyeol because he was safe, not because he was the one I wanted.

He deserved someone who could love him wholeheartedly, and I hated myself for not being that person. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pulling my hand away.

“For what?” Chanyeol asked, concern etched on his face.

“For not being honest with you. For trying to force something that was never going to work.”

His expression faltered, and I felt a pang of guilt, but I couldn’t stay silent anymore. “I care about you, Chanyeol. But my heart... it’s not here. It’s with someone else.”

“I want you to be happy,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, guilt threatening to swallow me whole.

“Don’t be,” he said, smiling sadly. “Sometimes, love isn’t about who’s perfect on paper. It’s about who makes your heart feel full.”

That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The pieces fell into place one by one, each more damning than the last. I didn’t want stability. I wanted fire, chaos, the kind of love that consumed you even when it hurt. I wanted Baekhyun.

One evening, I found myself standing outside Baekhyun’s apartment. It had been months since I’d last seen him, months since we had parted ways under the rain, months since the last time he tried to reach out. Yet, the thought of facing him again made my pulse race and my hands tremble.

When he opened the door, his expression shifted from surprise to something softer, almost vulnerable. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low.

“I know,” I whispered. “But I needed to see you.”

He stepped aside to let me in, his movements hesitant. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something unidentifiable in the air, grounding me and making my heart ache.

“So, what’s this about?” he asked, leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed defensively.

“I…” My words faltered. I had rehearsed this moment in my head countless times, yet now that I was here, I didn’t know where to begin.

“You’re with Chanyeol,” he said, filling the silence. His tone wasn’t accusatory, but it wasn’t neutral either. “He’s good for you.”

“I ended it,” I admitted, my voice cracking. “He’s not you.”

His sharp intake of breath echoed in the small space between us. “You can’t do this,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t just come back and say things like that. You made it clear you wanted me out of your life.”

“I know it’s selfish,” I replied, stepping closer. “But I had to tell you the truth. I thought I wanted stability, someone who could give me the kind of love that didn’t hurt. But Baekhyun, nothing compares to what we had.”

“What we had nearly destroyed us,” he said, his voice heavy with emotion. “Do you think I’ve forgotten how much we hurt each other?”

“I was scared,” I whispered. “Scared of going back to the way things were. Of us hurting each other again.”

I swallowed hard, tears welling in my eyes. “But I also remember the way you made me feel, like I was alive in a way I’ve never felt since. You were my fire, Baekhyun, and I don’t think I can live without that.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching as he processed my words. “You’re asking me to take a risk again. To go back to something we’ve already proved doesn’t work.”

“Baekhyun… I’m asking you to try,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

For a moment, the silence between us was deafening. Then, he closed the distance between us in two quick strides, his hands cupping my face as he pressed his lips to mine. It wasn’t the soft, tentative kiss of someone testing the waters. It was raw, desperate, and full of all the emotions we’d kept bottled up for far too long.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against mine. “If we do this again,” he said, his voice trembling, “we do it right. No more games, no more breaking each other’s hearts.”

I nodded, tears streaming down my face. “No more games.”

The space between us disappeared as he stepped forward, his hands cupping my face. His touch was tentative, as though he was afraid I might disappear. “I’ll do better this time,” he whispered. “I promise.”

I smiled through the tears that blurred my vision. “I know you will.”

His lips met mine, soft and tentative at first, as if he was afraid I might disappear. But as I kissed him back, all the walls I’d built crumbled, and the love I’d tried to bury came rushing back like a tidal wave.

The chaos, the fire, the love—it was all still there, waiting for us to embrace it. Together.

It wasn’t easy, and there were times when I questioned if we were doing the right thing. But for every doubt, there was a moment that reminded me why I chose him. The way he held my hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The way he’d look at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, his gaze full of unspoken emotions. The way he made me laugh, even on my worst days.

One rainy afternoon, as we sat on the couch, Baekhyun was strumming his guitar while I hummed along to the melody, and I realized something. Love didn’t have to be flawless to be worth fighting for. It just had to be real. And with Baekhyun, it always was.

His fingers paused on the strings, and he looked at me with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “You’re off-key,” he teased, leaning closer.

I swatted his arm, laughing. “You’re off-rhythm.”

“Touché,” he said, setting the guitar down and pulling me into his lap. “But admit it, you missed my genius.”

Rolling my eyes, I rested my head against his shoulder, listening to the rain patter against the windows. These quiet moments felt different now—gentler, softer, like we’d found the balance we used to lack.

I couldn’t help the giggle escaping my lips when I felt his fingers crawl from my knee to my inner thigh. “Seriously?” I clicked my tongue, giving him a playful glare. “Last night was not enough?”

“Never,” Baekhyun trailed kisses from my jaw to my neck; his fingers started to undo the knot of my shorts. “I can never get enough of you.”

We’d both changed in the months since we found our way back to each other. Baekhyun still had his restless energy and still liked to push boundaries, but now he made an effort to include me in his world. And I learned to trust him again, little by little, realizing that love didn’t mean perfection—it meant showing up, trying, and forgiving.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Did you know you’re the best thing that ever happened to me?”

I tilted my head to look at him, my heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze, trying so hard to focus on his words and not on his touches at the moment. “I think I’m finally starting to believe you.”

“You should,” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on my lips and laying me down on the soft cushion of the couch. “Because I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving it.”

We weren’t perfect—no relationship ever is. But we were learning, growing, and most importantly, choosing each other every single day. 

For the first time, I felt like we were enough.

And just like that, the chaos returned. However, this time, it felt like home.

[heartbeetz]

I always drew spαmtօn too short and I will always draw anton too tall. It balances out.

[drunk-poets-society]

Man, working with kids is so entertaining. This 8th grader I’m teaching is so enamoured by me and I just lie to him abt the most inconsequential shit lol.

[spacedkey]

technically one of those clowns is only half based on an ebay one, the one with a funny snout is because i saw one that looked like he had a snout but when i got him his face was flat..

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

[clonecaptains]

No Vacancy

a tyler owens x shy reader fic

warnings: none! she/her pronouns mentioned; no use of y/n; this is all cozy fluff

word count: 3k

summary: you're part of the wrangler crew and have a crush on tyler. and you're debating on acting on these feelings. you might just get your chance when he shows up at your motel room.

a/n: this is my first tyler fic! this is the ol 'there's only one bed' trope - and im already planning a part two! hope yall enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All these motel rooms look the same. Warm earth tones all over the place and strange prints on the bedspread. But after a long day like today, it’s a welcome sight. That bed’s calling your name. You shrug your bag off your shoulder and hit the light switch. The lamp in the corner illuminates the room in a warm glow. It’s cozy.

The door clicks behind you; and you stand in the room for a moment deciding what you want to do next. Your job was done for the day. You are the official tornado wrangler social media accounts manager. Now that the wrangler team has gained a substantial following, it’s your job to post updates about new videos or the latest t-shirt design up for charity purposes. You’ve posted what you needed to post for the day, and now is your chance to rest.

You decide on a shower to think about the events of the day while you clean off.

Today was a first for you. It was your first time being in tornado while sitting in the passenger seat of Tyler’s truck. You’ve been on the team now for a while, but it was part of your initiation they’d said. Tyler was sweet. He pulled you aside telling you that you didn’t have to if you didn’t want to. And you really didn’t want to, but you wanted to prove to yourself that you could. More than that, you trusted Tyler would keep you safe.

You loved watching him, and his excitement was contagious despite your fears of this major storm. He’d been blasting his storm playlist, but when it got close to the moment, he made sure you were ok.

When the storm hit and passed you over, you couldn’t help but scream – in fear or excitement you don’t know. You grabbed Tyler’s arm in the heat of the moment, and feeling his warm skin under your fingertips was more of a thrill than the storm was.

You’re not sure how well you’re keeping the secret that you’re completely in love with him. You fell the first day you met him several months ago. And while you did prove to yourself that you could handle a tornado – you don’t know if you can handle the ache you feel when you’re around him. Riding shotgun in his truck today and touching his arm will keep you on cloud nine for the next week.

A creak in the pipes of this old motel tears you from your thoughts. You get out of the shower and dry off to put on your pjs. That’s when your mind drifts back to Tyler. How sweet he was with you all day leading up to your first tornado, and how he let you hold his arm. How he checked on you a dozen times after to make sure you weren’t too shaken.

You were shaken, but not but the storm. No matter how often you’re around him – he has the same effect on you. He makes you feel dizzy. His presence is so hard to ignore. It’s not just his handsome face or broad muscular frame – though that certainly is a factor – it’s his charm and relaxed demeanor. He’s a perfect balance of rowdy and sweet. And you are smitten.

You wince thinking about how it’s probably painfully obvious to the rest of the team. And what’s worse, it’s obvious to him too. If he’s seen it – and hasn’t said anything then you can only assume he doesn’t feel the same way.

All of this goes through your mind during your nightly routine. It’s early in the night, you left the wranglers down in the parking lot – most of them were still having a beer chatting over the day’s storm. You can faintly hear people talking outside while the night is winding down.

You settle into bed turning on the TV when you hear keys turning in the lock on your door. Much to your surprise – the door opens and who but Tyler himself is standing in the doorway. He’s just as confused as you. He steps backwards out of the doorway to check the key in his hand and the number on the door. He smiles with a soft huff – shaking his head at something you didn’t know what until later.

“This is the right room according to this,” he holds up the key and closes the door behind him. Suddenly the room feels a hundred times smaller. You feel yourself start to panic.

“They set this up,” Tyler continues. “I know it was Boone,” he laughs setting his bag down on the table near the door. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” he tells you right away to try and ease the fear he can probably see in your eyes.

You don’t have a reply because you’re still shocked he’s standing in your room.

“You did great today by the way,” Tyler was still talking, and you were glad for it.

But you do find your voice, “Thank you.” That actually means a lot to you.

“Wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asks, looking over his shoulder. He’s rifling through his bag.

“No, no,” you feign being nonchalant and he cracks a smile. “Tyler, do you want to check if there’s another room available?” you ask him in the same breath. “I don’t want you to sleep on the floor, that won’t be comfortable at all.”

“Tryin’ to kick me out?” he gives a little wink as he reaches for the phone to call the front desk.

The phone call was quick – not long enough for you to decide which outcome you’d prefer.

Do you want him to stay? if he stayed then you’d have to deal with your crush being in your room all night. Having to play it cool as best you could. Or do you want him to leave? And regret later that you didn’t say anything about how you felt when you had a good chance to in this moment

The choice is made for you in the span of a few seconds.

“No more rooms,” he clicked his tongue. “The floor’ll be fine!”

That’s one of the things you admire most about him. He’s considerate and polite – and he’s happy to be. You know the floor is not comfortable. But he offered like it was the most common thing in the world.

“I am gonna shower first,” he says. “You showered right?” he asks pointing at you, and you nod “yeah! Go for it!”

Now that he knew he was staying, he takes off his boots. Something about them resting on the floor by the doorway makes your heart ache. It’s so close to what it could be like if you were together. A taste of domestic life with Tyler.

He disappears into the bathroom, and you resume flipping through the TV channels. You hope that will distract you from thinking about your crush being very naked and wet on the other side of that door. It’s not like you intentionally linger on it, but when you hear the shower curtain rings slide along the curtain rod and the water kick on - your face warms heavily.

When you hear him quietly hum in the shower, you feel yourself begin to relax. Something about it warms your heart, you think maybe he feels comfortable and doesn’t mind being heard while he hums.

You know the tune, one of the songs he’d been blasting in the truck recently. That makes you think back to being in the tornado again. You can’t believe you did that. Maybe that is your sign to do something else brave. If you could weather that storm surely you could admit your feelings to Tyler.

What if he didn’t feel the same? Then you’d have to awkwardly share a room, and the rest of the time spent working at this job with him knowing you have a crush on him.

How many times have you heard him say “if you feel it, chase it.” If he felt it, would he not have chased it by now? You feel it and you want to chase him, but he makes your knees weak.

What if he does feel the same? How do you maneuver this? There are too many questions, and you don’t know any of the answers. All that you know was you have it bad for him and it hurts. It’s such an ache. Being around him all the time for work, but never having him. You’re embarrassed to admit how much touching his arm earlier was a thrill, it’s all you’d been able to think about.

The more you think about all of this, the harder your heart beats. You’ve barely had time to process anything since he’s been in your room. It gets even worse when the shower stops. You hear when the curtain opens, and when his feet touch the floor.

Then you hear your name.

“There aren’t any towels.”

Oh no. You forgotten you’d used them both. You weren’t expecting to have to share.

“I’ll go get you one! I’m sorry I used them both!” You grab the key and dart out the room, you dn’t even care that someone might see you in your pajamas. You’d rather go grab one for him than wait awkwardly for a towel to be brought up. The less you have to think about him naked in the next room the better for your sanity.

You grab the towels and an extra pillow from the front desk and head back.

“I’m coming in!” You laugh opening the door, and you hear him laugh from the bathroom. “Ok I have them,” you tell him near the bathroom door. He opens it just a smidge and sticks his hand out. You both laugh when you hand him the towels. The awkward moment acknowledged and laughed at instead of worrying about it.

“Thank you,” he replies as he closes the door.

You sit on the bed again, but this time instead of sitting in the middle – you sit more on one side. It’s big enough for you to share so you don’t see why not. It’s not fair for him to sleep on the floor.

As hard as you try to prepare yourself for sharing a bed with him, it lands like a brick in the pit of your stomach when he steps out of the bathroom. The scent of his bodywash hits you first, you always loved how he smells. But just looking at him, he’s a dream.

He’s wearing a soft worn t-shirt and some gym shorts. His hair’s a mess, and it makes you giggle to see it so unruly. He smiles at your quiet laugh.

“Something funny?” he prods running the towel over his head again before hooking it on the back of the door.

“Your hair is always so perfect!”

“You’re getting an exclusive behind the scenes look,” he smiles moving towards the table where he’d put his stuff. He digs through his bag to pull out his phone and charger - plugging it into the nearest outlet.

“Tyler?” your voice comes out timid. He looks up from his phone and sets it down to give you his attention. “You can stay up here,” you point to the empty half of the bed. “I got an extra pillow too.”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” his eyes are soft, his brows furrow.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable on the floor!”

He’s quiet for a moment. He looks at his hat sitting on the table amongst his things, and he strokes along the brim of the hat. Usually, you’re able to read him but this leaves you a little miffed. It makes your heart start to beat a little faster from the anticipation.

“Alright,” he decides standing up.

Ok, ok. Don’t panic. This is what you asked for.

He checks the lock on the door making sure it’s locked, and he turns off the floor lamp in the corner.

“On or off?” he asks near the bathroom. When you tell him ‘Off’, he taps that light switch and the loud hum from that light stops. The only light now is from the TV across from the bed.

Your heart is fluttering in your chest when he pulls the covers back. When he sits down and you feel his weight on the mattress - that really gets your heart pounding. He pulls the blankets back over himself and lays down with a heavy sigh. You know he’s tired, he’d been driving like a maniac into storms all day.

Though he’s more than just a rowdy storm chaser, he works long hours helping families and doing charity work. You love him for all these things. And you’re glad it’s dark because you feel like you might cry. He’s so close, and you have no idea what to say or do to tell him what you feel.

“Can I turn this off?” you ask trying to hide the quiver in your voice.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies and sinks further into the blankets. Both of you shift to get comfortable now in the dark, and his leg touches yours - causing you to jump. You don’t mean to gasp, but it slips out.

“Sorry!” he laughs and it relieves some tension. Some. You can’t calm down and you don’t know how to. He’s just a few inches away!! You were both lying on your backs, and his shoulder’s almost touching yours. You can still smell his body wash from earlier.

Just say it. Tell him you love him. You survived a tornado today!

You try to hype yourself up, but it isn’t working.

Before you plan out anything to say, you blurt out his name. That’s all you can muster. But this time, it’s worse than before, and your voice quivers audibly. More than that, you’re starting to tremble.

“Hey, hey- it’s ok,” he rolls over on his side to face you. “Me too,” he says and you have no idea what he’s talking about. Until he reachs for you in the dark. “Give me your hand,” he whispers and you roll on your side to face him. You reach towards him, and he gently wraps his hand around your wrist – guiding it to his chest. He puts your hand over his heart, and you feel it pounding under the warmth of his skin and soft shirt. “You see, I have a crush on this girl-“

Your eyes have adjusted in the dark and it’s enough to see the soft, almost shy look he gives you.

“Really?” you whisper. “Me?”

He lets go of your wrist and puts his hand on top of yours and presses down, emphasizing his point.

“Why haven’t you said anything til now? What happened to ‘if you feel it chase it’?”

He clears his throat comically and shifts a little, “Well, I-, ok you got me. Maybe I was a little nervous.” He shrugs. Your hand hasn’t moved from his chest, neither has his hand. He slowly starts to curl his fingers around your hand.

“You? Nervous for me? Do you know what I’ve been thinking about all day today?” you pause. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.” He scoots a little closer to you, ready to listen. “It wasn’t the tornado I’ve been thinking about. It’s been how it felt to touch your arm today.” Your face is on fire. But it gives you a thrill to feel his heart jump and see the smile on his face widen.

He lets go of your hand and hooks his arm so his forearm is close to your face. “Would you like to again?” he teases, and you shove his chest playfully. He laughs, a good deep laugh. He’s relieved and happy. It makes your face hurt from your own smile, and you shyly move your hand from his chest to touch his forearm.

The air shifts. You both feel it when you stroke up and down his arm. You aren’t going to tell him how much you love feeling his arm hair under your fingertips. But he could probably figure it out. Maybe you didn’t mind if he knew.

He reaches for you then, your hand curls around his wrist this time. His hand cradles the back of your head, and he pulls you closer.

“I’m sorry I waited so long for this, I didn’t want to scare you. But truth is I was scared,” he admits.

“I was too, I was scared you didn’t feel the same way,” you whisper back. Your faces are so close to each other, and your bodies almost touching. You can feel the warmth from him.

He lets out a soft grunt like he’s been hit, shocked at what you just said to him.

“Can I?” he asks. You know what he’s asking. His expression is so sweet, so gentle. Another reason you love him. You feel safe in his presence, in his grasp.

“Yes,” you whisper, and then you start to laugh at yourself.

“What?” he smiles laughing.

“I was just gonna say you should ‘chase it’,” you smile. You barely finish the sentence before he closes the gap between you. Warm lips on yours, his nose pressing into your cheek. The stubble on his chin brushes your skin as you whimper into his mouth.

It’s a brief kiss before it breaks. There’s a slight pause where you look at each other smiling, enjoying the moment. Then he dives in for a deeper kiss. His arms pulling you closer, holding you tight to him. Though you wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

At some point you do break apart, both a little breathless. You feel dizzy and lovesick from the way he’s looking at you; something tells you he feels the same.

He starts to laugh again, shaking his head. “We won’t hear the end of this one.”

“Nope,” you smile knowing already what Lily and Dani will have to say.

“I know Boone had a hand in this.”

“Lily and Dani too, they’ve been pushing me to talk to you for weeks,” you giggle burying your face in his neck. He hugs you to him and squeezes. He adds a little reassuring rub on your back. “I’m still scared,” you admit, a secret murmured into his skin.

“I know,” he squeezes again. “Me too. Don’t want to lose you. But you’re worth chasing.”

You hum happily into his neck when a big yawn takes over you.

“Sorry,” you giggle, his laugh joining yours.

“You had a big day. Riding in your first tornado! That and the kissin’ outta wear anybody out,” he winks. Then tilts his head down to kiss your forehead. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t let go,” you yawn, cuddling into his chest.

He whispers quietly against the top of your head, “never.”

[riboism]

me and my husband

》 pairing: emperor! k.hj x (f) empress! reader

》 wc: 5k

》 plot: In a cold and ruthless empire, the neglected Empress is trapped in a loveless marriage to a possessive and tyrannical Emperor. When he encourages her to take a lover to occupy her loneliness, she begins a forbidden affair with a kind-hearted gardener, discovering a tenderness she’s never known. But when the Emperor learns of her growing feelings for the gardener, he becomes consumed with jealousy, rage, and betrayal, prompting him to realize his conflicted feelings and take matters into his own hands.

》 content: royalty au, possessive! hongjoong, lots of plot before smut, affair, low key angry sex, cunnilingus, backshots, breeding, creampie, verrryyyy toxic ;)

》 a/n: this is heavily inspired by the Hulu drama, ‘The Great’, and that goddamn hongjoong mv…

🎧 me and my husband by mitski, all mine by brent faiyaz, heartless by the weekend, closer by nine inch nails, why do you love by hongjoong

You paced back and forth in your large bedroom, the quiet ticking from the grand clock slowly maddening you until your patience evaporated. Mingi is exactly eight minutes late. You wouldn’t have noticed his short delay if it was any other night, but tonight you were particularly desperate. It was only a couple of days before you’d start bleeding again, and your body craved to be taken care of. The frustration made you so hot and flushed to the point that you felt it unnecessary to apply any color to your cheeks. 

Exasperated, you fell back into the softness of your bed. Despite his occasional lateness, you had to admit—having a lover had its perks. At first, the idea felt like a betrayal of everything you stood for, a compromise of your values. But Mingi had been nothing short of a blessing. The loneliness of the palace had once felt suffocating, but his presence brought a much-needed light. He listened when no one else would, his warm gaze making you feel seen in a way the Emperor never had. And when words failed, he used his skilled fingers to help ease away your tensions. 

It was the Emperor’s idea for you to take a lover. Yes, you and your husband had sort of a dysfunctional marriage. When you first learned that the young Emperor was going to ask for your hand, you were quickly consumed with giddy daydreams of romance and devotion, the kinds you read about in books when you were just a little girl. You were ecstatic to have his companionship until reality struck you hard and fast. The hastily arranged wedding had barely concluded when you finally met him—a man who was far from the Prince Charming you had imagined. The dreams of a happily-ever-after faded quickly, replaced by the cold, bitter truth. You were merely another pawn in his political game, and he was far too absorbed in his own indulgences to care about yours.

Emperor Kim Hongjoong was a tyrant draped in silk and gold, a man whose cruelty knew no bounds. He ruled with a reckless disregard for his people. While his subjects froze to death in yet another senseless war, he surrounded himself with decadence—hosting opulent feasts that spilled into debauchery and indulging in nights of ecstasy with his concubines. The Court tread lightly around him, knowing full well he was a volatile storm, ready to unleash fury over the slightest inconvenience. Beheadings became as common as whispers in the palace halls, his wrath fueled by whims and dulled by the haze of opium that clouded his mind. Rational decisions—military or otherwise—were a rarity, yet the Court still pushed him toward one expectation: securing heirs to continue his blood-soaked legacy.

You quickly came to understand your place within the palace walls. Though you bore the title of Empress, in his eyes, you were nothing more than a vessel for producing heirs to secure the bloodline and strengthen the Empire.

Intimacy with the Emperor felt like a cold and mechanical ritual devoid of any tenderness or affection. During your ovulation, he would visit your chambers to complete the act, barely sparing you a glance as he did. There was no care or affection—just the unceremonious deposit of his seed before he rose and left without a word. More often than not, you were left lying on your back, alone in the dark, listening to his footsteps echo down the hall as he sought solace in the arms of his concubines. Whatever happened between you two during those nights was never meant to bring any joy or passion; it was simply a transaction, a duty to the Empire.

What stung most was how he never saw you as he did those other women. To them, he gave smiles, laughter, and sometimes even whispers of affection—crumbs of humanity that you yearned for but never received. And yet, despite his cold indifference, you couldn’t help but crave his attention. You told yourself that if you waited, and if you worked hard enough, he might one day change. Maybe, just maybe, he would soften, hold you, and love you the way you had once dreamed.

But with each passing day, the hope grew dimmer. He only seemed to drift further away, leaving you to grapple with the emptiness he left behind.

“I don’t have time,” the Emperor said curtly, his tone leaving no room for argument. He shoved the last of his rice into his mouth and rose swiftly from the table. He always ate with such haste in the mornings, as though the very act of sitting with you was a burden he couldn’t wait to escape.

“All I’m asking for is a short walk in the garden. Please, I’m so lonely here. Can’t you spare even a moment for your wife?” you pleaded, your voice trembling with the weight of your desperation.

He adjusted his trousers with a practiced indifference, striding toward the tall, imposing doors without so much as a glance in your direction. Just as he reached them, he let out a dismissive scoff.

“If you’re so bored, find yourself a lover.”

The Emperor had said many cruel things to you before, but this? To suggest such a thing as an affair to his wife? It was beyond comprehension. That very day, you found yourself pacing the palace garden, his vile words echoing endlessly in your mind.

Was he truly that done with you? you wondered bitterly. Did he care so little for you that the thought of you lying with another man didn’t stir even the faintest flicker of jealousy? No, he had encouraged it. Not out of love, but because your presence was a little more than an inconvenience to him. The realization gnawed at you. He treated you with less regard than his concubines, women he showered with affection, attention, and gifts—things you had only ever dared to dream of.

Your sadness was written across your face, too raw to hide, even when the tall, unassuming gardener approached with cautious concern. His voice was soft as he asked if you were alright, his eyes kind in a way you hadn’t experienced in ages.

And it was in that moment, standing before Mingi, that you decided. If the Emperor’s cruelty extended so far as to push you into the arms of another, then so be it. You would take his advice.

—

A loud thud at the door jolted you upright. That must be Mingi, you thought, heart racing as you leapt out of bed. Hastily, you grabbed the bottle of floral perfume on your nightstand, spritzing a delicate mist onto your neck. You smoothed your lacy nightgown and approached the door on light feet, careful to keep your movements discreet—though you knew the palace walls were full of watchful eyes, and rumors of your midnight visitor were no secret.

But the giddy flutter of butterflies in your stomach twisted into a cold, heavy weight the moment you opened the door.

Standing there, framed by the dim hallway light, was not Mingi.

“Emperor,” you murmured, quickly bowing to mask your shock.

Hongjoong’s gaze slid over you like a blade, lingering far too long on the delicate lace of your nightgown. His lips quirked upward in a faint smirk, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. You flushed under his scrutiny, the sheer fabric suddenly feeling like a cruel betrayal.

"All dolled up," he remarked, voice low and taunting. "Quite the effort for someone who isn't me."

You widened the door hesitantly, feeling cornered, as though you had no choice but to let him in. The Emperor stepped inside with an air of entitlement, his presence suffocating in the small space. As he moved further into the room, you instinctively leaned out into the hallway, glancing left and right, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mingi—wanting to warn him somehow.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about the gardener,” Hongjoong said casually as if reading your thoughts. “I sent him away.”

You froze mid-step, the blood draining from your face. “S-sent him away?” you stammered, dread pooling in your chest.

Hongjoong threw his head back and laughed, a sharp, grating sound that only deepened your unease. “Relax,” he said, waving his hands in mock reassurance. “I didn’t kill him. Tempting, sure, but no. I figured that might upset you.” His words were flippant, but there was a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach twist. The reassurance didn’t land—it only left you more anxious.

Without invitation, Hongjoong strolled further into your chambers and collapsed onto your bed with an exaggerated sigh, as though he owned every inch of the space—and, of course, he did. His dark eyes roamed over you unabashedly, lingering on your bare, glistening legs and then rising to your barely covered chest.

“You look nice,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in that nightgown before. Did I buy that?”

You didn’t respond, refusing to acknowledge his comments. Your thoughts were racing, consumed with worry for Mingi. Where was he? Was he safe? What did Hongjoong do to him?

The Emperor sat up, his expression shifting into something more serious. “I didn’t kill your boy toy,” he said bluntly. “I’m simply relocating him. He no longer works at the palace.” He patted the mattress beside him. “Now, sit down.”

Your heart plummeted to your stomach. The room felt colder, heavier. You wanted to scream, to hurl every ornate wedding gift he had ever given you in his face, to demand answers at the top of your lungs. But you swallowed it all—the anger, the fear—and silently moved to sit beside him. It had been so long since you were this close to him, and you needed a moment to size him up before doing anything rash.

“Why did you send him away?” you asked quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your attempt at calm.

“Because I decided I don’t want to share pussy with a lowborn. You couldn’t have at least gone for the Chancellor? He’s always ogling at your breasts. Doesn’t carry much in length, but at least he has status.” He answered offhandedly.

“What?” You flustered. 

Hongjoong threw his head back in exasperation before turning sharply toward you, his expression a mixture of annoyance and condescension. “Everyone in the Palace knows about you two,” he began, his tone dripping with disdain. “The Court has been whispering that your little gardener was falling in love and planning to run away with you. He made a mockery of me. Me. So yes, I had to get rid of him. You should be grateful I didn’t have him beheaded. That imbecile.”

His words left you reeling. Was he telling the truth, or weaving lies to justify his cruelty? It didn’t make sense. He had ignored you for so long, humiliated you at every turn, yet now he took offense when you sought solace elsewhere? And with his permission, no less?

“I don’t understand,” you said, your voice trembling with both anger and confusion. “You told me I could have a lover.”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, the sound grating against your nerves. “I meant a fuck buddy,” he corrected, his smirk widening. “Not a boyfriend. But anyway, I take it back. You can’t have either.”

Hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting every nerve on fire. How dare he? Who was he to take the one shred of happiness you had and discard it on a whim? You rose to your feet, fists clenched, jaw tight. “Bring him back. Now,” you demanded, your voice firm despite the trembling in your chest.

His smirk deepened, his gaze alight with a maddening amusement. He leaned back leisurely, resting his weight on one arm as if your anger were nothing more than entertainment to him. “No,” he said flatly, his arrogance palpable.

The sheer audacity made your head spin. You had always tempered your tone around him, swallowed your words out of respect—or fear—but this was too much. “If you don’t bring him back to me,” you said, your voice rising, “I will leave. And I will never come back.”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, though his smirk remained intact. “If you leave,” he said with maddening calm, “I’ll send my men to every corner of this Earth to find you and bring you back to me.”

“Then I’ll jump to my death!” you spat, your voice trembling with both fury and desperation.

He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head mockingly. “Do you need my assistance opening the window? They’re awfully heavy,” he said, his tone laced with derision.

It hit you then—the futility of it all. There was no winning with him. Every word he uttered, every action he took, was final. Your defiance crumbled as hopelessness set in. Your knees buckled, and you sank to the floor, staring blankly at the carpet.

My Mingi, you thought, your heart aching in the hollow silence that followed. If he had truly loved you, if he had asked you sooner, you wouldn’t have hesitated to run away with him. But now…

A sudden touch startled you. Hongjoong’s thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek before gently gripping your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. He studied your face with an almost detached curiosity, sighing as if your sorrow was an inconvenience.

“Oh, cheer up, dear,” he said, his tone mockingly light. “You don’t need that filthy cock to sit on. You have me.”

The sheer calmness in his voice, the audacious cheerfulness of his words, was infuriating. It gnawed at you, his willful ignorance of your pain more provoking than all his cruelty combined.

You pushed his hand away. “At least that filthy cock could make me cum.” 

You braced yourself for the sting of his hand against your cheek, but it never came. Instead, the Emperor’s lips curled into an amused smirk, as though your defiance was nothing more than a child’s tantrum to him. “Well, If you’d dropped that attitude and let me into your chambers from time to time,” he said with a gleam in his eye, “you might have seen my full potential.”

His words dripped with arrogance, and your stomach churned in disgust. The memories of the handful of nights you had spent with him were distant and cold, fleeting instances of duty you had long since abandoned. After meeting Mingi, you had shut your doors to the Emperor completely, forsaking the obligations of producing an heir as you allowed yourself to be swept away in the warmth of another’s embrace.

“Just get out,” you snapped, your voice brittle with anger and exhaustion.

Hongjoong tilted his head, studying you as though you were a puzzle he was just now beginning to solve. He hadn’t expected this level of fury—at least, not from you. A flicker of realization crossed his face.

“Oh,” he said, a note of amusement creeping into his tone. “Don’t tell me you loved him.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The truth sat heavy in your chest, threatening to burst free. It wasn’t just lust that had drawn you to Mingi; it was the way he saw you, the way he listened, the way he made you feel alive. You cared for him deeply, even when it terrified you, even when the impossibility of your circumstances loomed over you like a storm. There were nights when you dreamed of a life with him, though, they were only dreams, you had to remind yourself.

Hongjoong sighed, a long, dramatic exhale as he leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice low and venomous. “Oh, you don’t get it, do you, honey?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You can’t be with anyone else. You belong to me. Your mind, your voice, your lips, your breasts, your legs...”

His fingers brushed against the softness of your thigh, a teasing touch that made your skin crawl. His hand lingered there for a moment, as though threatening to move closer, before retreating entirely. “...The very essence of you is mine,” he said, his tone as cold as it was possessive. “And the next time you foolishly find another hard cock to bounce on, remember this: I graciously spared your beloved lowborn this time. I let him walk out of here with all his limbs intact. But next time?” His voice darkened, a shadow falling over his words. “I won’t be so kind.”

The silence that followed was deafening, his threat hanging heavy in the air.

Without another word, the Emperor rose to his feet, smoothing out his clothes with maddening calm. He strode to the door with the same regal air he always carried, pausing only to glance back at you with a mocking bow. “Goodnight, my dear,” he said lightly, as though he hadn’t just shattered your world.

Then he was gone, leaving you trembling on the floor, a hollow shell of anger, fear, and heartbreak.

—

It had been months since your last encounter with the Emperor. Tonight, he was returning from a diplomatic trip overseas. All morning, Courtesans and nursemaids visited to remind you of your wifely duties. They whispered about your dwindling fertility window, urging you to try for a child before it was too late.

You prayed he’d be too exhausted from his journey to come to your chambers. But you knew better. Time away from the Palace always left him restless.

You hadn’t forgiven him for sending Mingi away. Of course, he hadn’t apologized—he never did. Hongjoong likely believed that with time and distance, you’d forget. That you’d fall back into your role, returning to him as if nothing had happened. But the lack of replies from the letters he’d sent you during his absence told him otherwise.

Resigned to your fate, you lay on the grand bed in your best nightgown, the silk clinging to your skin. Waiting. At least it would be quick. The Emperor never lasted long anyway.

The heavy doors swung open, and Hongjoong entered, still wearing his elaborate robe. You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed on the ceiling as he began to undress. You braced yourself, mentally preparing for yet another empty, soulless night.

Hongjoong broke the silence. “I take it you’re still angry I took your toy away?”

The arrogance in his voice made your skin crawl. You hated how he spoke of Mingi, reducing him to an object. A plaything. As if you hadn’t cared for him deeply. As if Hongjoong’s own heart wasn’t capable of understanding such feelings.

“Are you going to talk at all tonight?”

You stayed calm, swallowing the retort burning in your throat. “I’m not here to talk, remember? We have a duty to fulfill.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, you make it sound so dull. Like we’re here to do paperwork or something.”

You didn’t answer. He busied himself removing his rings, laying them on the table beside you. His gaze landed on a pile of familiar envelopes, all sealed, untouched, and forgotten.

“You didn’t even bother opening these?” he asked, his voice tighter than before.

You sighed, unmoved. “Were they urgent?”

Hongjoong clenched his jaw, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “No,” he admitted, quieter now, “but…”

He trailed off, his confidence suddenly faltering. You had no idea how much those letters meant to him. Each word, each line, was an attempt to ease the guilt that haunted him during his travels. He had replayed the memory of your tears over and over, trying to drown his regret in ink and sentiment. Yet now, staring at the unopened letters, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“You know, you hurt me too,” he blurted.

That caught your attention. You sat up, furrowing your brows. “Me?” you echoed, incredulous. “How? By doing the very thing you told me to do?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

Your laugh was sharp and bitter. “Why? Because only you get to sleep with other people?”

Hongjoong scoffed, brushing off your words with a wave of his hand. “What I do is different from what you did.”

“Different?” you snapped. “How? How is it any different?”

He stopped pacing, turning to face you fully. His voice dropped, quieter but seething with rage. “Because I don’t fall in love with them!”

The room fell silent, his words ringing in your ears.

Your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was he more hurt over the possibility that you had feelings for Mingi than the fact that you’d shared nights with him? The absurdity of it made your head spin.

But then he said something that chilled you to the core.

“Seeing you cry over that bastard…” He paused, his voice tight with unspoken pain. “It enraged me. I wondered—would you ever cry for me like that?”

His admission hung heavy in the air. For the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes.

“You must be drunk,” you said quietly, hoping to diffuse the tension. “Come, lay down—”

“I’m as clear-headed as I’ve ever been,” he interrupted, his tone sharp but slightly slurred, betraying the truth. You noticed his steps wavered as he began pacing the room again, the hem of his robe brushing unevenly against the floor.

His words came faster now, laced with frustration and desperation, his worries of masking his inebriation quickly dissolving. “When you married me, you promised me your loyalty. It didn’t matter who you spent your nights with, as long as you returned to me. But instead, you gave him your heart.”

You stared at him, stunned. His jealousy, his possessiveness—it was suffocating. Yet there was something almost pitiable in the way he looked at you, as if your betrayal had cracked something deep within him.

He stopped pacing, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “You belong to me,” he said through his wine-stained lips, his voice low and firm. “Your mind. Your body. Your soul. Your loyalty. Your love. All of it. And I’ll be damned if I ever let another man take what’s mine.”

Before you could even digest all of what he said, Hongjoong climbed up on the bed, nestling himself between your legs. Your breath hitched upon feeling the softness of his lips trace over your inner thigh, planting slow and messy kisses all over your soft skin.

“W-what are you doing?” You asked flabbergasted, not used to seeing him in this position. 

His arms wrapped from under your legs, locking you in place. “Showing you my full potential.” 

—

Your body tensed with each flick of his tongue. You held back your moans, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, but your sweat coated breasts and your shaky, quiet breaths betrayed you. He held onto your thighs as he tasted you, gliding his tongue in tortuously long and slow strokes. 

When you looked down, you were in awe at his focus, his brows furrowed in concentration, and saliva running down his chin as he savored you like a long-awaited meal. You felt trapped under him. Each time you got closer, he could sense it in the way your body braced itself, and he’d slow down again, ghosting his tongue over your parted folds, making you mentally curse him for stealing yet another rush of relief from you. 

You had reached your breaking point, and although you remained utterly mute, Hongjoong understood your frustration. Like an answered prayer, his tongue swirled briefly around your throbbing nub, before finally wrapping his wine-stained lips over your aching bud. 

As he suckled at your clit, you had no choice but to gasp out loud, your dry voice cracking as he consumed you. He purred into your cunt, smug with himself for finally breaking you. His craving for you grew even stronger, and he pulled you closer to him, his hips now rutting against the mattress. 

“You taste exquisite, Empress,” he breathed into your cunt, which didn’t fail to send goosebumps all over your exposed flesh, “Need to taste your cum next.” 

What felt like hours of edging had finally caught up with you, and your breathing started to get shaky again. Your hands slipped into his dark strands, holding onto them tightly as your hips jerked up, the fire in your abdomen finally snapping as you cried out, your milky white essence dripping onto Hongjoong’s tongue just as he desired. 

You collapsed back into the mattress, your vision blurring as he continued lapping at your sensitive cunt. He drank up every drop from your puffy, tender lips, his hand resting at your stomach to help bring you down from your high. You melted into the mattress as his lips shifted from your dripping cunt to your inner thigh, kissing and biting at your soft skin while he waited for you to steady your breathing. 

You looked down and met his deep, velvety gaze, his glassy eyes and slick-coated lips hitching your breath. In this moment, you took each other in. His once neatly top-knotted hair now loosely hung over his forehead, all roughed up from when you tugged and pulled at it earlier. You were disheveled yourself, your pretty lilac nightdress now sweat-drenched, the loose strands of your hair stuck to your rosy-red cheeks. He watched silently as your breasts which were barely covered by the hem of your dress, most likely hiked up from your convulsions, heaved up and down. 

You were a vision unlike anything he’d ever encountered. He had just returned from a journey that took him across vast snowy peaks and through valleys kissed by the first blush of cherry blossoms. Yet, the sight of you lying here, draped in soft shadows and the moonlight shining in from the window, surpassed the beauty of every natural wonder he’d seen. You were alluring—a temptation so profound it made the grandeur of the world seem pale in comparison.

"So foolish," he murmured, his voice low and thick as he hovered over you now, the heat of his breath brushing against your skin. His face lingered just a breath away, his eyes drinking you in. What he wanted to say—how foolish he’d been to neglect you, to waste time when he should have been losing himself in you—caught in his throat, heavy and unsaid.

Instead, he let his actions speak. His head dipped slowly and his lips found yours, claiming them with a hunger that had been simmering for far too long. You met him with equal fervor, surrendering completely to the kiss and tasting your sweetness on his lips, pulling him closer, tighter, as though you could make up for all the lost time in that single, stolen moment.

“Get on your knees,” He instructed after pulling away from the kiss, a tinge of impatience and restlessness painted in his voice. You obeyed his order, pivoting yourself from your back to your hands and knees. 

His hands gripped your hips eagerly, securing you in place as he lined himself up with you, giving his throbbing shaft a few pumps before sliding into your wet walls. You inhaled sharply as he entered you, his hard cock stuffing you so deliciously that you were forced to make a strangled moan, grasping at the silky sheets from under you to brace yourself. 

You had never been in this position with him before. It was always missionary as it was the best option for ensuring a successful pregnancy, but from this angle, his cock hit you so deep, his balls swinging and smacking into your aching clit as he thrust into you harshly. 

Your loud and lewd screams left Hongjoong teeming with ecstasy. He smirked as he watched you from behind, her royal highness, who was always so primmed and polished, so graceful in the way she walked and spoke, now babbling sinful moans, her makeup running, her hair tousled, covering him with her sticky juices as she cried and begged him to go faster, harder. He felt honored to see you like this. 

The wine made Hongjoong fatigued, and he slowed down his pace, which was a little too slow for your liking. Your brain had already turned to mush, and your hips started to have a mind of its own, forcing you to fuck yourself on his cock to reach your high faster. Hongjoong cooed as he watched you, his cock throbbing at the sight of you taking matters into your own hands. 

“You forget yourself, Empress,” He teased, placing a hand on your mid-back. He caressed your skin, watching your stretched-out pussy take him whole. 

“Just shut up and cum inside me already,” You huffed, your composure crumbling, giving way to raw frustration. 

A spark ignited in his eyes, a glimmer of something untamed and primal seeping through. His weariness evaporated and a renewed vitality coursed through him. He lifted you and pulled you into his chest, his hand sliding around your neck, fingers tracing your pulse before tightening just enough to make your breath hitch.

“Want my cum?” He rasped into your ear, lips smashed against your hot skin, his hips never letting go of that rough pace, “you want it?” 

“Yes, p-please!” You choked, your salty tears falling onto your reddened lips, “Want it all!” 

His grasp tightened around your neck, fucking into you so raggedly now that there was a moment he thought he could break you. “Gonna take it all?” He growled, “All of me in that little pussy? Who’s fucking pussy is this?” 

Your head swam, a dizzying mix of exhilaration and the sharp, intoxicating absence of air. The rush of excitement left you lightheaded and entirely consumed by the moment. 

“Yours!” You cried out, “It’s all yours!” 

With a satisfied smirk, he watched you dissolve in pleasure, finally letting go of your throat as he shot his load into you, a mixture of your wetness and his creamy white dripping out of your cunt. You felt all your strength leave you as you came down, letting yourself be held up by Hongjoong, your head nestled between his chin and shoulder. 

“That’s right baby,” he pressed a few gentle kisses on your sweaty temple as he pumped his cum back into you, pushing deeper and deeper to make sure you don’t waste a single drop of him, “Your mine, all mine…”

a/n: feedback is appreciated

[diamonddaze01]

second servings

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader genre: smut, fluff, a dash of humor bc im fun like that | wc: 3.7k Warnings: unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT), drinking rating: r a/n: happy thanksgiving! or as ivy (my beloved @c-oupsie ) aptly put it, dicksgiving // huge thank you to @lovetaroandtaemin for the beta!!! //MINORS DNI

It’s safe to say that this Thanksgiving has been a rousing success.

Your mother had nothing but praise for the way you pulled off her famous sweet potato casserole (even though she was hovering behind you the entire time, making "suggestions"), and your father was borderline drunk on Mingyu’s whiskey-infused turkey. Sure, he’d proudly claimed it was an old family recipe, but you’d seen him frantically Googling “best Thanksgiving turkey recipes” at 2 a.m. the night before. No harm, no foul—especially since your parents didn’t need to know about his panic or how the entire kitchen had nearly gone up in flames during the basting process.

For his part, Mingyu had charmed everyone effortlessly. Between pulling your chair out at dinner, teasing your father about how he could totally outdrink him (a dangerous game, considering how much whiskey had been consumed), and sheepishly admitting he’d practiced making pie crust for weeks, it was clear your parents were absolutely smitten with your boyfriend. By the time your mom hugged you both goodbye at the door, whispering that you’d “picked a good one,” you thought your heart might burst with pride.

But now, the house is quiet. The only sounds are the low hum of the dishwasher and the occasional creak of the floorboards as you wander through the dining room, stacking dishes and tidying up. The scent of roasted herbs and pumpkin pie still lingers in the air, but you’re already beginning to unwind.

Mingyu is... well, not unwinding. Not in the slightest. You can hear him singing—no, yelling—off-key in the kitchen as he polishes off the last of the whiskey your dad left behind. When you poke your head in to scold him for leaving you to do all the cleaning, you find him leaning against the counter, a lazy, lopsided grin lighting up his face. His tie is loose, and the top buttons of his shirt have been undone, showing off that smooth stretch of skin you always find it impossible to resist.

“You’re wasted,” you accuse, trying not to smile at how disheveled he looks.

“Wasted?” he echoes, incredulous, though the way he wobbles slightly when he stands says otherwise. “Nah, baby, I’m just... grateful. It’s Thanksgiving! And I’m thankful for you.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his nose nuzzling your temple. His voice drops, low and teasing. “And the way you look in this dress... God, how did I keep my hands to myself all night?”

You roll your eyes, even as your heart stutters in your chest. “Because my parents were right there, and you were busy trying to impress them?”

Mingyu hums, the sound reverberating against your skin. “Impressed them so much they probably think I’m an angel, huh?” His fingers press lightly against the small of your back, pulling you closer until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. “Guess I shouldn’t ruin that image.”

When you laugh, the sound barely leaves your lips before he has you pinned against the nearest wall. Your shriek of surprise is muffled by Mingyu’s mouth on yours, warm and insistent, tasting faintly of whiskey and the pumpkin pie he’d wolfed down before your parents left. His hands bracket your waist, firm and steady, but there’s nothing restrained about the way he presses into you.

“Shhh,” he murmurs against your lips when you try to protest, his voice dark and teasing. “Can’t let them know their soon-to-be son-in-law isn’t the perfect golden boy they think he is.”

Your laugh bubbles up despite yourself, but you manage to shove at his chest just enough to put some space between you. “Mingyu, stop! There are dishes everywhere—”

“Don’t care,” he growls, already pulling you back toward him.

“Mingyu!”

He only grins as you slip out of his grasp, retreating into the dining room, muttering about someone needing to be responsible. But he’s not far behind. You feel his presence before you even hear him—the deliberate slowness of his footsteps, the quiet huff of his breath as he watches you stack plates.

You turn to scold him, but the words catch in your throat the moment you see his expression. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and intent, like he’s just barely holding himself back.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, a little breathless.

He takes a step closer.

“Like what?”

“Like—like you’re going to—”

Mingyu doesn’t let you finish. In one swift motion, he’s at your side, spinning you around and lifting you effortlessly onto the dining table. Plates clatter around you, some teetering dangerously close to the edge as you gasp in shock.

“Wait,” he says suddenly, holding up a hand. His gaze flicks to the plates beneath you, then back to your face. “Are these gonna break if I—”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure. “If you what?”

He flashes you a devilish grin, and before you can stop him, he swipes an arm across the table, sending the rest of the dishes clattering to the floor.

“Mingyu!” you gasp, clutching his shirt as you gape at the mess.

“It’s fine,” he says, far too casually for someone who’s just created a potential disaster. His voice is rough, his breath coming quick as he leans in close, pressing you back against the table. “They’re not ceramic. They won’t break.”

Your protest dies on your lips as his mouth finds yours again, hands already working to undo the buttons of your dress. The table creaks beneath you as he presses his weight into you, his kisses growing more heated, more desperate with every passing second.

“You’re insane,” you murmur against his lips, though your fingers are already threading through his hair, tugging lightly just the way you know he likes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his grin unmistakable even as his lips move to your jaw, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. “But you’re stuck with me now.”

“Not if I kill you for breaking half our dishes,” you tease, though the sharp intake of breath you can’t quite suppress gives you away.

“Then you’ll have to explain to your parents why their perfect golden boy is gone,” he counters, his voice a low rumble against your skin.

"And we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, tilting your head to give him better access.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat. "Definitely not. I've worked too hard to impress them."

His hands slide down your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as they go. You shiver at the feeling of his fingers against your bare thighs, your skin prickling with goosebumps. Mingyu's touch is warm, his fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Speaking of impressing," you say, trying to keep your voice steady as his touch wanders higher, "I can't believe you actually learned to make pie crust."

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dancing with mischief. "Oh, that? I lied. I bought it pre-made."

You gasp in mock outrage. "You fraud!"

"Hey, your mom loves me,” Mingyu bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck, just enough to hurt, and you whine. “You can’t call me a fraud when her love is real, baby.” His tongue carves a path back up to your mouth.

"Oh, shut up," you laugh, tugging him closer by his loosened tie.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound vibrating against your neck as he continues his trail of kisses.

"You know," he murmurs, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, "I wasn't lying earlier. About being grateful for you."

The sincerity in his eyes catches you off guard, making your breath hitch. Even with his hair mussed and his shirt half-unbuttoned, there's an earnestness to him that makes your heart swell. But then he kneels in front of you, and your heart starts to stutter.

“And what better way to show you how…grateful I am,” he starts, fingers brushing against the wet spot on your panties, so soft it makes you gasp. “Than to kneel in front of you?”

His words make your back arch, shivers running down your spine. He hums softly, fingers brushing the edge of your panties. 

“My baby’s so pretty,” he breathes, pressing open-mouthed kisses against thighs as you shiver. 

"Mingyu," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair as he slowly drags your panties down your legs. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver.

He looks up at you through his lashes, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "Yes, baby?"

You open your mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a breathy moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, dangerously close to where you need him most. Your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more contact.

Mingyu chuckles, the sound low and rough. "So eager," he murmurs against your skin. "But I want to savor this. Show you just how thankful I am."

His tongue traces lazy patterns on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your center with each pass. You squirm on the table, plates clattering softly around you as you try to press closer to his mouth. But Mingyu's hands on your hips hold you firmly in place.

"Patience," he whispers, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

You whimper, fingers tightening in his hair. "Mingyu, please..."

He looks up at you, eyes dark with desire. "Please what?"

"Touch me," you breathe. "I need you to—"

Your words dissolve into a gasp as Mingyu finally, finally presses his mouth against you. His tongue moves in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing and exploring. You throw your head back, a low moan escaping your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Mingyu hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves of sensation up your spine. His hands slide from your hips to your thighs, gently urging them further apart. You comply eagerly, desperate for more of his touch. Mingyu takes advantage of the new angle, his tongue delving deeper, circling your clit with practiced precision.

"God, you taste amazing," he murmurs against you, the words sending vibrations through your core. “Better than my pie, baby.”

You can't help the breathy moan that escapes you, your hips rolling against his face as you chase the building pleasure. Mingyu matches your rhythm, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your sensitive clit.

"Mingyu," you gasp, tugging at his hair. "I'm close, I'm—"

Your words trail off into a strangled moan as Mingyu redoubles his efforts, his tongue working faster, more insistently against you. One of his hands leaves your thigh, and you feel his fingers teasing at your sopping entrance before slowly sliding inside. The dual sensation of his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling inside you makes you arch against the table, fingers finding purchase on the tablecloth and holding on for dear life.

"That's it, baby," Mingyu murmurs against you, his voice rough with desire. "Let go for me. Show me how good I make you feel."

His words, combined with the relentless attention of his mouth and fingers, push you over the edge. Your back arches off the table as waves of pleasure crash over you, Mingyu's name falling from your lips in a breathless cry. He works you through your orgasm, his movements slowing gradually as your body relaxes.

When the last tremors of pleasure subside, Mingyu presses a final, gentle kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. His hair is a mess from your fingers, his lips swollen and glistening. The sight of him looking so thoroughly debauched makes your heart race all over again.

"Come here," you murmur, reaching for him.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it sends a renewed spark of arousal through you. His hand finds yours, interlacing your fingers on the thoroughly christened tablecloth. You bring your joined hands to your mouth and suck on his fingers as Mingyu looks on in dazed fascination.

Mingyu groans, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. "God, you're gonna be the death of me," he murmurs, voice rough with want.

You release his fingers with a soft pop, a mischievous smile playing at your lips. "I thought you were showing me how thankful you were," you tease, running your free hand down his chest. "Seems like you might have more gratitude to express, love."

His answering grin is downright predatory. "Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. "I've got all night to show you exactly how thankful I am." Without warning, his fingers find your sopping cunt again, and you squeal.

Two, then three, fingers bully their way into your weeping pussy, and you groan, wanton, as Mingyu’s free hand yanks the sleeves of your dress off your shoulder.

“Don’t-” your words are cut off with a keen when Mingyu’s fingers go even deeper, back arching off the table. “Don’t rip my dress Mingyu-ah! There! Right there- don’t stop, please please-”

Mingyu chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your neck as he continues to work his fingers inside you. "Wouldn't dream of ripping this dress, baby. I love how you look in it too much." His teeth graze your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine. You're caught between the pleasure of his fingers and the slight pain of his teeth, overwhelmed by sensation.

"Fuck, baby," he groans against your skin. "You're so wet for me. So tight."

You can only whimper in response, your hips rocking against his hand as you chase another peak. The table creaks beneath you, the remaining dishes clattering with each thrust of Mingyu's fingers.

"That's it," he encourages, his voice low and husky. "Take what you need. Take it all, baby."

His thumb finds your clit, circling it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. You cry out, hips bucking off the table. Mingyu's free hand slides up to cup your breast through the fabric of your dress, his thumb brushing over your nipple.

"Oh god," you moan, your head falling back against the table, hands gripping his bicep. You’re not sure if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. "Mingyu, I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," he growls, curling his fingers inside you. "Let me feel you, baby."

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. He works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping as aftershocks ripple through you.

When you finally come down, panting and boneless, Mingyu withdraws his hand and brings his glistening fingers to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours; you moan, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Your fingers grapple helplessly with the buttons. He lets you struggle for a little, forehead pressed against yours as his deft fingers work to push your dress off of you, leaving you bare before him on the dining room table. The cool air pebbles your skin, but Mingyu's heated gaze makes you feel like you're on fire.

"You’re delicious," he murmurs, a wicked grin playing at his lips. "But I'm not done with you yet."

He decides to put you out of your misery, pushing away to roughly yank his shirt off and throw it across the room. His hands yank at his belt, and his pants and boxers follow soon after, joining his shirt god knows where. Your eyes rake over Mingyu's exposed body, drinking in the sight of his toned chest and abs. Your gaze travels lower, lingering on his erect cock, already glistening with precum. The sight makes your mouth water, and you unconsciously lick your lips.

Mingyu catches the gesture and smirks. "See something you like, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as he steps closer, his hands running up your thighs. He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock brushing against your sensitive folds. You whimper at the contact, your hips jerking involuntarily.

"Tell me what you want," Mingyu murmurs, his voice low and husky. He rocks his hips slightly, teasing you with just the barest hint of pressure.

"You," you breathe, reaching for him. "I want you, Mingyu. Don’t make me beg.”

"Never, baby," he growls, voice rough with desire. "I want you too much."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Then take me," you breathe, nails raking down his back.

Mingyu doesn't need to be told twice. With one smooth thrust, he buries himself inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation. He stills for a moment, forehead pressed against yours as you adjust to his size.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, his arms trembling slightly as he holds himself above you. "You feel so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, drawing a strangled moan from Mingyu. "Move," you urge. Mingyu obeys, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in. The force of his thrust sends a few more plates clattering to the floor, but neither of you pay them any mind. Your focus narrows to the feeling of Mingyu moving inside you, the delicious friction as he sets a punishing pace.

"God, yes," you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Just like that, Mingyu."

He grunts in response, his hips snapping against yours with increasing urgency. One hand grips your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, while the other braces against the table. The wood creaks beneath you with each thrust, but you can barely hear it over the sound of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans. He whines, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you relentlessly.

"You're so fucking tight," Mingyu groans, his voice strained. "So perfect for me, baby. Only for me."

His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, your walls clenching around him. Mingyu groans, his hips stuttering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, and suddenly he's hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. He lifts his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he drives into you.

"Oh god," you cry out, your back arching off the table. "Right there, Mingyu. Don't stop!"

"Fuck," he grunts, his movements becoming more erratic. "I'm close, baby. So close."

You can feel your own orgasm building, a coiling tension in your lower belly. "Me too," you pant, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Mingyu, please."

Mingyu knows you like the back of his hand, knows exactly what you need to send you over the edge - his hand leaves your hip, sliding between your bodies to rub rough circles against your clit with his thumb. Mingyu shifts slightly, hitting that spot that convinces you that you’re in heaven - your mouth drops open in a low whine, and he savors every reaction you give him.

Your entire body tenses as the pleasure makes spots dance in your vision. Mingyu's movements grow more frantic, his breathing ragged against your neck.

"Come for me," he growls, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Let go, baby. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, your back arching off the table as you cry out Mingyu's name. Your walls clench around him, pulling him deeper.

The sensation of you pulsing around him pushes Mingyu over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you with a final thrust, groaning your name as he comes.

For a long moment, you both stay like that, panting and trembling in the aftermath. The table creaks again, as Mingyu presses loving kisses against your lips, hands rubbing gentle circles on your sides.

“I love you,” he whispers, equal parts adoring and reverent. “I’m so grateful to have you in my life.”

He sounds so genuine, so lovelorn, that it almost brings tears to your eyes. “I love you too,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him close. “I’ll never stop thanking fate for bringing you to me.”

“It wasn’t fate,” he grumbles half-heartedly. “It was your shitty cocktails that almost gave me alcohol poisoning at Jeonghan’s graduation party.”

You sigh, pulling back enough to stick your tongue out at him. “And just when I was starting to wax poetic about you, Kim Mingyu.”

“Oh, by all means, continue-”

The table decides then that it has had enough of the both of you, and the leg gives out with a deafening splinter. The sudden tilt of the table sends you both sliding towards the floor in an undignified heap. Mingyu manages to catch you, cushioning your fall with his body as you land on top of him with a soft "oof." For a moment, you both lie there in stunned silence, the broken table leg jutting out at an awkward angle beside you.

Then, almost simultaneously, you burst into laughter.

Mingyu joins in, his body shaking with mirth against yours. "Oh my god," he wheezes, lifting himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Are you okay?"

You nod, still giggling. "I'm fine. You?"

"Never better," he grins, pressing a quick kiss to your nose. "Although I think we might need a new dining table."

You groan, finally taking in the full extent of the damage. Plates litter the floor, and your poor tablecloth lies in a heap near Mingyu’s feet.

"Oh no," you moan, burying your face in Mingyu's chest. "My parents gave us that table as a housewarming gift."

Mingyu winces, his hand coming up to stroke your hair soothingly. "We'll figure something out. Maybe we can fix it?"

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. "Fix it? Mingyu, the leg is completely broken off."

He shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, I managed to convince your parents I'm a master pie baker. I'm sure I can convince them I'm an expert carpenter too."

You can't help but laugh, swatting his chest playfully. "You're ridiculous."

"But you love me," he grins, pulling you down for a kiss.

"God help me, I do," you murmur against his lips.

[santaasi]

moonstruck

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: who could have known that jj maybank would steal your first kiss beneath the stars, all to evade the pursuing police?

warnings: fluff, first kiss, no use of y/n, english isn't my first language

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a little fic to celebrate the release of obx4. after s3 idk if I'll watch s4, but you can give me your opinion about 5 new eps in the comments. have a nice time reading this work! love u <3

ᯓ★ now playing...

enhypen - moonstruck

THE NIGHT AIR WAS WARM, infused with the salty tang of the sea and the soothing rhythm of waves crashing against the shore. The gentle breeze rustled the palm fronds, creating a soft, whispering melody that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. This tranquil evening was the only redeeming quality of your job at the cluttered antique store. After two long years, you still wondered how your boss managed to keep the place afloat, especially when half the customers left without buying anything. Those who did purchase something often bombarded you with endless questions that drained your patience, just like today.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders as your shift finally came to an end. All you wanted was to retreat to the solace of your home and hide beneath a warm blanket. It had been one of those days—when customers were rude, the air conditioning was a distant memory, your legs ached from standing, and you smelled like a dust-covered relic.

After struggling to lock the front door—an ancient key refusing to cooperate, as if it had been stuck since the Great Depression—you slung your bag over your shoulder and stepped out into the quiet streets of the Cut. The fresh sea air caressed your skin, invigorating your senses. You knew this town like the back of your hand, every crack in the pavement a familiar companion. The streetlights flickered overhead, bulbs long overdue for replacement, casting a dim glow that made the shadows dance around you. Though it wasn’t the safest place, it was home—a place where trouble always seemed to find you.

And one of them even had a name: JJ Maybank.

Like everyone in the Cut, you had heard countless stories about him and his adventures with the crew who proudly called themselves the Pogues. From the time you were kids, his reputation as a wild spirit with a devil-may-care attitude had preceded him. You remembered the laughter that echoed through the neighborhood as he and his friends roamed the sandy streets, always planning their next adventure—sneaking onto rooftops, racing bikes down the winding roads, and daring each other to dive into the ocean at dawn. JJ was the embodiment of carefree youth, with a reckless smile that could charm anyone and a spark in his eyes that promised trouble.

Despite sharing the same neighborhood, your worlds felt galaxies apart. While he thrived in the thrill of spontaneous adventures, you found comfort in the quiet corners of your life. You spent lazy afternoons lost in books, dreaming of places far beyond the horizon. As children, you’d played side by side in the warm sand, yet your paths seemed to diverge with the years. JJ was the star of wild tales and whispered legends, while you remained a quiet observer, forever intrigued yet hesitant to step into his whirlwind of chaos.

You never expected that your paths would cross, at least not like this — bound together by a single, reckless moment that would change everything.

As you stood there, savoring the rhythmic crash of waves against the sandy shore, the tranquil scene was suddenly pierced by the sound of heavy footsteps behind you — fast and uneven, as if someone were running. The street was mostly quiet, just a few couples strolling hand in hand, lost in the warmth of a summer evening. The sudden urgency in the air pulled your attention, stirring a sense of curiosity.

Before you could turn to see who it was, a hand grasped your wrist, spinning you around with a swift motion. Your heart leaped into your throat, eyes widening in shock. You instinctively clutched the worn fabric of a white T-shirt, struggling to steady yourself. Frowning in confusion, you looked up and met the cheeky blue eyes of the last person you expected to see.

It was him — JJ Maybank himself, breathless and frantic, the unmistakable spark of mischief dancing in his gaze. Even amid his panic, his blue eyes glinted with a familiar wildness, hinting at the reckless adventure he always seemed to be chasing. In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the two of you standing on the edge of the beach, the waves whispering secrets to the shore.

“Hey there, my pretty little neighbor! It’s a perfect evening for a walk, don’t you think?” JJ chatted, his smile strained as he kept glancing back over his shoulder.

“JJ? What are you doing—?” You barely had time to finish your question before he cut you off. His playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. His blue eyes scanned your face, searching for something.

“I need your help,” he said quickly, lowering his voice as the distant wail of sirens began to fill the air.

Your thoughts raced, but they tangled together in confusion. “What?” you whispered, still too stunned to process what was happening.

“The cops are coming,” he said urgently, glancing around as if the shadows themselves might betray him. “I just… I need you to help me not get caught. Please.”

You blinked, trying to wrap your head around the situation. The sirens grew louder, and flashing lights danced around the corner, cutting through the evening calm. Panic swelled in your chest. What could you possibly do? You were not the type to get involved in this kind of chaos, especially not with someone like JJ, who always seemed to flirt with trouble.

You bit your lip, staring at him, your mind racing. You had no clue what JJ had done this time, but with all the rumors swirling about him, it could be serious. If the cops saw you with him, they might think you were involved, and the last thing you wanted was to be dragged into a police station to answer questions. All you wanted was to go home, wrap yourself in a cozy blanket, binge-watch your favorite show, and sip hot tea until sleep finally took you.

But time was running out. You needed a plan — and fast.

Then, a ridiculous idea flashed through your mind, inspired by that Marvel movie you had watched a few weeks ago. People tended to look away when they saw couples getting too… intimate. It was as if tenderness made them uncomfortable, a reminder of something personal they weren’t meant to witness. Kisses, soft touches, the kind of closeness that drew attention away from everything else.

Oh, no. You swallowed hard, heart pounding. It was a risky move, but you didn’t have the luxury of time to second-guess yourself.

Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed JJ by the collar and pulled him closer, pressing your lips to his.

It wasn’t just any kiss; it was your first kiss, and you had no clue what you were doing. The warmth of his lips against yours sent a jolt through you, a thrilling rush that left you dizzy. His breath mingled with yours, soft and sweet, and for a heartbeat, everything else faded away. You thought about pulling back, a wave of embarrassment washing over you, but then you felt his hand cradling the back of your head, steadying you, keeping you from breaking the moment.

“Whoa,” you whispered, your heart racing. But before you could say anything else, JJ deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours with a playful insistence. You gasped, a surprised sound escaping your lips as your mind spun with confusion and exhilaration. You were lost in a whirlwind of sensations — your heart pounded wildly, and your hands found their way into his hair, fingers tugging gently at the tips.

Suddenly, your back hit something cold and hard. JJ pulled back slightly, both of you panting, gulping for air. His gaze swept over your face, a mixture of surprise and something unnameable flickering in his eyes. You opened your mouth, desperate to say something — anything — to justify your impulsive action, to apologize for crossing a line. The silence felt thick and awkward, stretching out between you like a taut string.

“Uh, I didn’t—” you began, but before you could finish, JJ’s hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and grounding. He pulled you in again, kissing you once more, more fiercely this time.

Your cheeks burned, but it felt like your entire body was ablaze. Thoughts of right and wrong melted away, leaving only the intoxicating pleasure of his lips against yours. You couldn’t help but think that everyone who claimed JJ Maybank’s kisses were magical had it all wrong. They weren’t magical; they were raw and real, yet they lifted you high above the chaos of the world. Each kiss felt like a leap into the unknown, an escape where your soul soared and your heart raced.

Just as you lost yourself in the heat of it all, the wail of sirens pierced the air, cutting through the intimacy of the moment. Police cars rushed past, barely glancing in your direction, but the sudden noise jolted your heart back to reality.

The kiss lingered for a heartbeat longer before you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, struggling to process what had just happened. JJ blinked, his lips slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but the words failed to materialize, hanging in the air between you like unspoken secrets.

As reality settled back in, you dropped your hands, suddenly aware of just how close you had been. The warmth of the moment began to fade, replaced by a rush of embarrassment that flooded your cheeks. You cleared your throat, adjusting the bag that had slipped off your shoulder, the awkwardness of the situation weighing heavily on you.

“I... uh, saw it in the movies,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled out in a rush. “People don’t like public affection, so…”

JJ stared at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then, to your shock, a slow grin spread across his face, playful and teasing. “Damn it,” he said, still trying to catch his breath, his voice light with laughter. “Remind me to ask you to save my ass more often, Bambi.”

You felt your cheeks ignite like they were on fire, and instinctively, you took a step back, craving a little more space. What had you just gotten yourself into? Your mind raced, blinking like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to crack a joke, tease him back, or just stand there in stunned silence.

JJ chuckled hoarsely, shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite believe the turn of events. “You’re something else, you know that?”

A nervous laugh escaped your lips, the tension hanging between you slowly beginning to ease, but the flutter in your stomach remained, leaving you wondering what this moment meant for both of you.

“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big eyes of yours, or I might just fall for you right here and now,” he teased, flashing a wink that sent a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, though a shy smile crept onto your lips. “Seriously, JJ? Is this your idea of flirting? Because it’s kind of cheesy.”

“I know, right?” he laughed, the sound light and carefree. “But it works, doesn’t it? I mean, look at you! I’d be an idiot not to try.”

His voice dropped, a playful seriousness creeping in as he leaned closer. “I think I owe you now,” he whispered, almost conspiratorially, his breath tickling your ear. His hand slid gently over your shoulder, and before you could react, he casually lifted your bag, throwing it over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“Hey! That’s my bag!” you protested, half-heartedly, your heart fluttering at his boldness.

“I know, but I don’t like being beholden to beautiful girls like you,” he said, grinning like he’d just won a prize. “So, as a thank you, I’m walking you home. Wouldn’t want anyone to steal you away.”

He winked again, laughter dancing in his blue eyes as he started to walk ahead, your bag bouncing lightly against his back. You stood frozen for a moment, still processing what just happened. His hair was tousled, the way it always was, and you wondered if your heart had raced like this before. Did you really make him flustered? Oh my God, was this really happening?

“Are you coming?” he called over his shoulder, pausing to give you that cheeky grin that made your stomach flip.

“Uh, yeah, I’m coming!” you managed to say, shaking yourself out of your daze. You hurried to catch up with him, your heart beating wildly, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief bubbling inside you. As you walked side by side, the sound of the waves crashing behind you and the warm breeze wrapping around you felt like a secret the universe was sharing.

The night air was alive with laughter and playful banter, the gentle rhythm of the waves providing a perfect soundtrack to your conversation. JJ animatedly recounted his latest adventures with the Pogues — like the time they snuck into the lighthouse for a midnight swim and ended up launching a misguided rescue mission for a beach ball. You hung on every word, entranced by his charisma, the warmth of his presence beside you igniting something within you.

“Seriously, though,” he said, glancing sideways, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, “thanks for helping me back there. Who knew a cute girl could be such a hero?”

You laughed, the sound bright in the night air. “I didn’t have much of a choice. You practically swept me off my feet with that spin…”

He chuckled, that familiar mischief dancing in his gaze. “What can I say? I’ve always been drawn to trouble. And now, I guess I’m just moonstruck by you.”

With each step, the distance between you shrank, a connection sparking amid the chaos of the night. When you finally reached your porch, he paused, turning to face you, the glow of the moon illuminating his features in a way that made your heart race.

“I had an awesome time tonight,” he said, a hint of sincerity in his tone. “Maybe we should hang out again. You know, when I’m not dodging cops or getting into trouble. How about a pizza or something?”

You chuckled, the sound light and bright. “Didn’t know you treated all your life saviors to dinner. What’s next, a moonlit pizza date?”

JJ smirked, leaning in slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Only the cute ones. Just imagine it—a night under the stars, with me serenading you about my crazy adventures. Sounds perfect, right?”

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling your heart race at the thought. “Yeah, maybe. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for your karaoke skills yet.”

He threw his head back and laughed, a sound that made your heart flutter. “Oh, I’ll win you over. You’ll be begging for an encore.”

With a final grin, he stepped back, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment that felt electric. “Cool. I’ll see you around then.”

As you watched him walk away, the night felt charged with promise, the moonlight casting a silvery glow that made everything seem magical. You stood on your porch, a soft whisper of excitement filling your heart, knowing that this was just the beginning of something wonderfully beautiful—something that had you feeling both moonstruck and hopeful for what lay ahead.

thankx for reading <3

you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

[mlyscha]

↳ LOVE IS TRUST ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. where you and your boyfriend try the "i trust my boyfriend" trend: will they be able to succeed? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, trendy, kind of domestic? 𝔀arnings. curse words, reader gets hit on the head (help), not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1,5k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: just wanted to say hi and thank you guys for the 60+ followers, this is crazy! (╥ ω ╥) it has been only a few days since i started writing here and i have all of you guys here already… it couldn’t feel sweeter and softer than this! <3 thank you, everyone. 🤍

― 𝓱eeseung: confidence is not the key in this case...

you were sat on a chair, heeseung behind you holding a slipper while your phone were recording the moment. "okay... i'm scared but..." you prepared yourself for the worse, carefully protecting the side of your head with your arms and hands, just to make sure the water bottle above your head doesn't fall somehow; other than your boyfriend shooting a slipper to make it fall. "i trust my boyfriend! ah!" you screamed, waiting for him to throw the slipper and the water bottle placed above your head. "OH MY GOD, BABE," you turned to look at him from ― not too ― afar. "you did it!" your boyfriend, walking closer to you with a proud and petty grin replied: "yeah, that was kind of easy," then he shrugged, kissing your lips.

a few minutes later: "'kay guys, hee said he wants to attempt it again so... here we are..." you pursed your lips while looking at the camera, not very excited about this, already having that gut feeling. however, you just consented because this man seemed enthusiastic about the throw thing ― it even made you question yourself if he was mad at you somehow ㅠㅠ. anyway, when heeseung felt confident enough he threw the slipper. but! it hit your head and he immediately came to your rescue, back hugging you, feeling guilty and apologetic. "oh my god babe, i'm sorry," he was feeling worried about you, but when he realised you were actually laughing your ass off, he began to laugh as well, easing the atmosphere.

― 𝓳ongseong: nonchalant about it, but still succeeds.

jongseong is not a big fan of your couple trends ideas or something, worse when it involves your safety. but it's what they say: happy wife, happy life - even though he hasn't proposed yet. sat on a chair while jongseong waited beside you until you finished your tiktok video introduction, getting in position after you hit pause. he grabbed a slipper and gave you a quick forehead kiss before going back to his position, waiting for you to hit the record button. "i trust my boyfriend...!" "guys, i didn't want to do this, but, here i am," your boyfriend explained before throwing the slipper and successfully making the bottle above your head fall. "you did it, baby! woo-hoo!" you cheered for him, making the corner of his lips twitch.

bonus: after you recorded the video and posted it, jongseong told you to re-do this trend, but this time, with him, and let's say... sometimes the fourth time is the charm, isn't it?

― 𝓳aeyun: failed but redems himself.

different from jongseong, jaeyun would be actually excited to try it since you promised him he could be the next one having a slipper being thrown across their head. anyway, cutting the yap, your boyfriend was behind you making funny moves from afar, but when you told him to stop just so you can record the intro, he did it, actually feeling shy after you hit record. "okay, i trust my boyfriend ya'll..." and then... "OUCH!" "OH MY GOD, baby i'm sorry," feeling a extreme sense of guilt but playfulness, he went to hug you. "i'm so sorry, you can hit me now." he kisses your scalp/head, trying to make it less sore.

"okay guys, now it's my turn..." jaeyun announced, sitting on the chair you were sat two minutes before. he sighs before saying the catchy phrase: "i trust my girlfriend!" he closes his eyes, trying to stay still and appear calm ― even though he was shitting his pants thinking you were going to throw this slipper with such a force. however, you threw it and the water bottle sitting on his head fell. "i did it!" "WOW!" your boyfriend would immediately jump and hug you, praising you ― trying to make you forget about his embarrassingly and clumsy failed attempt.

― 𝓼unghoon: "why would i do that?" kind of guy.

yeah? why would he do that? alright, before we jump into the funny part ― not for sunghoon ― he might sound a bit petty and kinda nonchalant about this whole thing not to be rude, but because he just doesn't want to get you hurt. also, he thinks that if the quote was: safe wife, happy life, maybe things could've been solved more easily. anyway, your boyfriend began to practice how he could succeed this trend, which means, how he can throw this slipper across your head just perfectly enough to make that stupid water bottle fall.

after a few seconds, he asked you a hundred time: "why would i do this? i mean... why?!" he pouts, walking closer to you and placing both of his hands on your shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. you held his hands, looking back at sunghoon with a small grin. "babe, i am not going to die, it's just a silly couple trend, relax; you're just gonna throw the slipper and try to make this water bottle fall, while it lays on top of my head, okay?" no, it is not okay, but, instead, he replies: "okay..." you record a simple intro with hoon on the back, jumping into the main part of the tiktok. "i trust my boyfriend- OH MY GOD! THAT WAS FAST!" "yeah... that was fast..." "you still did it, babe! i'm alive!" "i am never doing these things again..." ― lies... (¬_¬).

― 𝓼unoo: the one having the most fun here.

i am used to describe sunoo as the giggliest and the most giddy one, and that specially applies for this kinds of situations too. with that being said i might mention that sunoo was actually just as excited as jaeyun could be, knowing that you wouldn't actually be mad at him or seriously injured, more like a funny moment he will share with you.

"okay, so i just have to throw it? like... this?" he pretended like he was going to throw the slipper. "yeah, yeah, that's all," you nodded, sitting on the chair and pressing record, since you had finished the intro already. "i trust my boyfriend." you said, waiting for the slipper to him your head or maybe the bottle. however, a loud smack was heard, and it was the sound of the slipper falling against the floor. both of you burst in a fit of laughter, before you asked: "want to try again?" "no... but can we switch? i actually wanna see if you can do it..."

― 𝓳ungwon: wonnie says: no, girlfriend sad. wonnie then says: fine...

jungwon is a mix of jongseong and sunghoon, nonchalant and worried about it. he have a big chance of succeeding, and if he does, he would say something like sunghoon said previously ― "i am not doing any such a thing like this with you anymore...!" but what happens if he doesn't succeed? well, first of all he will and would most definitely check on you and probably say: i told you it wasn't a good idea.

"'kay, i'll press start alright? get on your position." "baby, i'm scared i'll hit you too hard..." "would you hit me straight on the head hardly?" "no, but-" "exactly." "but i'll have to hit the bottle, not you, ugh... anyway." jungwon brushes off the urge to stop this, but after he realises you pressed record, he gives up. "i trust my boyfriend." and then after a few seconds preparing himself to throw it... bam! "i told you this wasn't a good idea!" even though his tone seemed kind of pissed off, he still walked over and checked on you like i said, laughing at you. "i told you silly head," he messes up with your hair a little bit. "this wasn't a good idea."

― 𝓻iki: laughs so hard that it makes you mad.

riki is the most playful one besides sunoo. he gives off this annoying guy at class vibes, almost like a bully who's soft on the inside. with that being said, riki would be down to record it, but still a bit worried, reassuring you wouldn't be mad at him if you get accidentally hit. knowing your boyfriend a little too well, you asked: "will you laugh at me?" and he would most definitely reply: "of course i will."

"okay, get ready, i'll start and then you can throw it- ouch! what was that for?" you turned around after getting hit on the head by the slipper. "i didn't pressed record or said the thing!" you complained. "oh sorry, my bad, i heard i could throw it." you sighed while your boyfriend picked the slipper up again, getting back into his position. "...i trust my boyfriend." you said, kind of hesitant. "RIKI! THAT HURT!" you placed your hand above the sore spot on the back of your head. "i'm-" giggle. "sorry!" giggle. you began to fake sob, making him feel guilty and this time actually worried. "oh... actually? did it actually hurt?" "'yes, it did," you looked up at him with a playful grin. "but... you know, it is your time to trust on me..."

riki ended up with a sore bump on his head. <3

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[avatar-anna]

i saw this post on and got inspired. enjoy!

part two

"It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, yeah, you too. It was—I'm glad we could catch up."

You held your bag in both of your hands and leaned back on your heels, waiting for the sudden tension to cease. Harry scratched his neck awkwardly while you looked down at the cobbled streets beneath your shoes. When a minute passed and neither of you said anything, when two couples excised themselves to walk past you, you finally decided to break the silence.

"I'm headed this way."

"Me too. We can walk together?"

"O—Okay."

Harry extended his arm out, a clear message for you to go first, so you did. For a split second, his hand grazed your lower back in that protective gesture he always used to use when you walked anywhere. But that had been when you were together, and now you weren't, and even though his hand merely hovered awkwardly behind you, you swore you could still feel it.

"Your hair looks nice. I don't think I've ever seen it so short before," you said, needing to break the silence all over again before it consumed you.

"Thanks, I, uh, I shaved it a few months back. It's finally starting to grow in."

It must've been soon after your break up, you realized, quickly doing the math in your head. A change, a fresh start after the end of a long relationship. You understood that, knew neither of you needed to comment on it, or the fact that you no longer wore the necklace Harry bought you for your first anniversary, though you'd seen him glance down at the missing piece of jewelry multiple times since you ran into each other.

"It's cute," you said, resisting the intrusive urge to reach up and touch his hair, instead clasping your hands behind your back.

"Are you across the bridge?" Harry asked, gesturing to one of the many bridges that stretched across the Tiber.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged, the canvas bag on his shoulder slipping a fraction. "You always liked Trastevere."

You smiled, charmed by how Harry still seemed to know you so intrinsically. "And you? Are you staying in Prati?"

Harry shook his head before waving to a fan who had spotted him. He didn't stop, though, and kept walking beside you, asking about your family, specifically your grandmother, who was his Scrabble partner nearly the entirety of your relationship.

"Good. I play Scrabble with her on the weekends now. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm not a good enough opponent, but she'll never say it to my face."

"Graceful as always, your nan," Harry nodded in agreement. "Probably wouldn't say the same thing about chess, though."

"No, probably not. Do you still play?" you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He was so close, close enough that the sleeve of his green shirt grazed your bare arm. Close enough that if you really wanted it to the back of your hand could graze his. Instead you shifted your hand away.

"When I can," Harry said, his mouth twitching as if recalling a memory. "I've been focusing on writing most days, but I play whenever I'm stuck."

"How's that going?"

"How's work?"

"Sorry, go ahead," you said, blushing a little. Would it always be this awkward around him? You hoped not. Harry had been a friend first, and even though you knew you shouldn't,y you missed his companionship some nights. Lots of nights. Most nights.

"No, you go. Catch me up on all the latest drama at work."

So you did, falling back into familiar, neutral territory as you brought Harry up to speed on your co-workers.

Before long, you'd made it to the apartment you were renting, your palms suddenly warm as you searched your purse for your keys. You were stalling, you both knew it, but Harry didn't comment, nor did he leave, didn't offer any reason to finally say goodbye.

You knew this was where it was supposed to end. That a chance encounter with your ex in a foreign country really shouldn't have gone on this long. You knew that, and yet...

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, scrambling for any logical reason as to why Harry should follow you into your apartment. "I—I, uh, I could make us coffee and—"

"Please. I mean—Sure. That would be...that would be fine."

Relief flooded through you, though that was quickly replaced by a guilty sort of anticipation as you unlocked the door to the main building of the apartment, as Harry followed you up a couple flights of stairs, as he waited once again for you to unlock a door. When you were inside, when you set your things down on the small dining table, you turned to face your ex.

Harry's gaze was once again lowered to your collarbones, to the place where the necklace he gave you used to sit. Then he met your eyes, the expression in them clear. It was the first time you'd seen them since running into him today. He'd kept his sunglasses on the whole time, perhaps to hide his expressions more, because now that you properly met his gaze, you saw it all. Those green eyes you still loved so much betrayed his every thought, and you knew yours probably did as well.

It was hard to say who moved first. If you grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before he wrapped an arm around your waist and fisted your hair in his other hand. But none of it mattered when your mouth met his, when your hands traveled up to cup the sides of his face, your thumbs tracing the familiar planes of his face.

A graze of his teeth against your bottom lip had you gasping, had him smiling as if that was the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down his scalp, satisfied by the groan that vibrated against your mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

"This isn't—It's not—" you tried to say, losing focus as Harry left a trail of kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck and back up again. "This doesn't mean—"

"I know," Harry breathed, his forehead pressed against yours as he toyed with the bow that held the front of your blouse together. Your breath hitched as his knuckle grazed your exposed stomach. "This doesn't change anything. Now take this off."

You almost made him do it just because he ordered you to, but you knew why he wanted you to be the one to untie the knot of your blouse. It meant you were saying yes to this moment, it meant you were saying yes to doing whatever it was you were about to do.

So you pulled at the blouse until it came undone, leaving it open so it revealed a strip of bare skin going right up the middle of your body. The rest you would leave up to him.

Harry shrugged out of his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching out to push back the shoulders of your shirt until it was off completely, falling into a puddle of fabric at your feet beside his. His gaze alone was too much and not enough, more explicit than it had any right to be. He stood there and drank you in for a full minute as if in a daze, taking in every mark and imperfect like he was reacquainting himself.

It was hard to get the words out, but you managed. "Still broken up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes still roving over every inch of your body that he could see. Then he blinked as if remembering the situation for what it was. "Yeah, still broken up."

There wasn't much left to say after that, really.

[navybrat817]

Love Isn't Enough

Pairing: Dark!Jax Teller x Female Reader

Summary: You love Jax, but not enough to stay.

Word Count: Almost 1.5k

Warnings: Angst, implied dubcon/noncon, attempted breakup, bittersweet ending, Jax Teller (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @writercole requested Jax Teller and a visit Under the Boardwalk (dark) with prompt #38 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You zipped up your bag after you put the last of your clothes inside. You expected a weight in your chest as you looked around the bedroom, but you weren’t upset at all. The place looked lived in, but it wasn’t a home. Charming was no longer your home. You could practically see the smirk on Jax’s face as he said “I told you so” since he suggested for you to leave and settle down somewhere else a long time ago. You didn’t listen then, but you were taking his advice now.

It was time to move on.

“I’m all about that fairy tale, baby.”

While you felt nothing when you packed your bag, your heart ached with each step you took. Jax Teller loved you and you didn’t want to leave him behind, especially when you still loved him, too. Just because the love was there didn’t mean you had support or respect. Not the way the club did. They would have a part of Jax that you would never quite reach and they couldn’t expect you to just fall in line or keep your mouth shut when your man did something dangerous or worse.

“You wanna be an old lady? Act like it. Do what you're told!”

There was something wet on your cheeks when you went to grab your keys. You sniffled as you wiped them with the back of your hand. When did you start crying? How many tears had you shed over the man who promised not to break your heart? It was tiring putting yourself back together and no amount of amazing sex or empty words could fully seal the cracks.

If your relationship taught you anything it was that love wasn’t always enough.

You didn’t regret it though. Life was too short for regrets. You got to experience love and many couldn’t say the same. You weren’t sure if you’d ever meet someone who sparked as much passion within you as Jax had, but you hoped he could defeat his demons without you tethered to him. Both of you could forge your paths and maybe they’d one day merge again.

“I love you, baby.”

“I’m sorry, Jax,” you whispered into the darkness of the living room.

“What are you sorry for?”

The keys fell from your hand as you spun toward the couch, your heart close to beating free from your chest. The flame from Jax’s lighter illuminated his face from where he sat and for a moment he looked like a demon, tortured and beautiful. He flipped on the lamp beside him and took a long drag from his cigarette, his stormy eyes drifting to the suitcase before they went back to you. His normally slicked back hair appeared disheveled as he blew out of a puff of smoke, like he couldn’t stop running his fingers through it.

He still took your breath away whenever you laid your eyes on him.

As much as you wanted to go to him and pull on those strands as you rode him, you wouldn’t. Sex wasn’t going to steer you from your decision. Besides, he used it as a weapon and you didn’t have the strength to clean up your wounds when you walked away.

“I didn’t hear you come home,” you answered.

He tilted his head and took another drag. “You’re sorry that you didn’t hear me come home?”

You swallowed as his gaze went back to your bag. “No, I’m sorry because I’m heading out,” you said, your stomach sinking as the words hung in the air.

Jax continued to smoke and you didn’t dare move as he took his time, the familiar scent of the smoke doing nothing to ease your nerves. You almost wished he yelled or destroyed something instead of stewing in silence. It put you on edge.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He finally asked, his voice so quiet you almost missed the question.

“I don’t know yet,” you said, tears springing to your eyes as he put the cigarette in the ashtray and got to his feet. “I just can't stay here.”

“So, you’re not just heading out. You’re going away. You’re leaving me,” he stated, clenching his fists as you moved back. He didn’t sound surprised. Just hurt and angry. Hurting him was the last thing you wanted to do.

“You told me to leave a long time ago. I should’ve left then, but I loved you and I thought that was enough for us,” you explained, a tear sliding down your cheek. You couldn’t back down though. “I still love you and I probably always will, but you’re married to the club. That’s your true love and I’m tired of fighting a losing battle.”

The stricken look he gave you almost made you apologize, but it was too late to turn back. “I’m the President and the club is family, but they aren’t you.”

“Jax-”

“Come here. Now,” he ordered, but there was a familiar gentleness in his gaze that he only showed with those he cared for. It was almost enough to make you cave. “Just sit and talk to me. We can figure this out.”

You slowly shook your head. “There isn't anything to figure out.”

“So, that’s it then? You're leaving?” He asked, raking a hand through his hair. “How many times do I have to prove to you that I love you? But no, it’s never good enough for you, is it? Love isn’t enough?” He scoffed when you shook your head again. “That’s bullshit. I need you and you need me, so don’t just-”

“That’s just it, Jax! I don’t need you!” You snapped. Both of your eyes went wide and you weren’t sure which one of you was more stunned by the statement. “When I did need you, you weren’t there. The club always has and always will come first. My eyes are finally open to that.”

“Baby…” he breathed out, his shoulders falling when you held up a hand.

“I love you. I do,” you promised. God, you loved him so much it fucking hurt. The pain had to end at some point. “But I don’t need you or this life. Not anymore. I’m done.”

You needed to say the words, so why did they feel hollow?

Jax snapped himself out of whatever shock he was in before he stomped toward you. With a gasp, you backed yourself against the wall. He never raised a hand toward you, but you had seen that fire in his eyes before. Anyone in his path ended up destroyed by that fury. Would he leave you on the ground in a pile of ash?

“You aren’t leaving me. We aren’t done,” He grabbed your chin, his grip tender when he could’ve crushed you. He pointed toward the bedroom, but kept his eyes on you so you knew how serious he was. “So unpack that bag and get it in our fucking bed.”

You searched his gaze, trying to find a trace of the man you loved instead of the stranger in front of you. “You can’t make me stay.”

He crushed his lips against yours, drawing a whimper from you. This wasn’t the kind of passion he typically showed you. This was a form of control. Like the club, he wanted you to bend to his will. Make you submit. Could you do that?

Was it safer or cowardly to give in?

It didn’t hurt so much when you opened your mouth to him and let him take over. The dull ache between your thighs would fade quicker than the cut to your heart. A betrayal of a moan escaped as his tongue dueled with yours. It didn’t take him long at all to win that battle. Jax would always win.

Was it worth fighting even if you lost? Yes. At least that way you could say even if you didn't win that you tried.

You couldn’t take a breath even when his mouth left yours. His lips left a blazing trail toward your ear, but it left you cold instead of warm. “Yes, I fucking can,” he snarled, your legs shaking as he pulled you away from the wall. “Tell me the club means more to me when I’m inside you. See if you can leave me when I’m fucking you into our mattress and showing you how much I love you.”

“Jax, please,” you begged, trying to pull free from his hold as he dragged you to the bedroom. He wouldn’t force you to sleep with him, would he?

“Beg all you want, baby. I won’t stop ‘til you know your place is here with me.”

Was this why Jax told you to leave a long time ago? To save you from the man he had become? It didn’t matter. It was too late to escape.

And maybe, in his own twisted way, he’d prove that love would be enough this time around.

I hope I did this justice! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rememberwren]

/•Harmless Fun 4•\

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Further Parts

For anon who asked for reader calling simon and johnny to pick you up from the bar after getting drunk. Thanks for requesting!

-

The phone rings, and Simon answers it before he even knows he is awake. Perhaps it’s that ingrained military training within him that has him snapping to attention at…quarter til two in the morning according to the glowing numbers of the digital clock on the nightstand. Or maybe it’s the remnants of the sleepless nights when Johnny was in hospital, when Simon would spend the hours staring at the ceiling and dreading the ring of his cellphone. Yes, he was perfectly fine when he kicked you out, but he’s taken a turn for the worse and doesn’t have long left…

“This is—” Ghost. Bravo-0-7. “—Simon.”

“Wha’ is i’?” Johnny slurs from the bed beside him, still more than half asleep. His hair is a mess, lines on his face from the pillow. He reaches out and finds Simon’s hand and they tangle fingers briefly, communicating via touch. Soap’s head lowers, though he doesn’t begin to snore again. He’s listening, more than likely. That military instinct is still in him too, even if his body can’t make the same use of it anymore. 

There is ambient noise from the other end of the phone, but Simon can’t quite make it out. He untangles his fingers from Johnny’s and puts the hand against his exposed ear, blocking out extraneous stimuli. There are voices, talking back and forth. Someone somewhere is laughing. Music, in the distance, though he can only make out the undercurrent of it, something with a heavy beat that he could likely feel in his teeth if he were there. 

Rustling. Then your voice: “—ut it, I’m on the phone, can’t you see? I—Simon? Are you there?” Distantly, like you’ve held the phone away from your mouth, he hears you admonish: “You made me miss him!” 

Simon slips out of the bed wearing only his boxers and leaves the bedroom in case Soap decides that he wants to fall back to sleep. He keeps his voice low when he says into the phone: “I’m here. What’s going on?” 

“My girlfriends all found boy-friends,” you mutter morosely, your every emotion heightened by the alcohol pulsing through your system. Simon doesn’t think he’s ever heard you sound so sulky, not even when Soap ate the last of your leftovers from the diner last week. 

Someone in the background says, full of charm: “I could be your boyfriend.” 

Simon’s eyes narrow. He switches the phone to his better ear. “Who’s that?” 

“Who’s—? Oh. That’s Alan,” you say, your effect brightening somewhat. “He’s buying my drinks at the bar. Free drinks, Simon! Isn’t that nice?” 

Simon wrenches his keys off the hook beside where your own should be resting. Slipping back into the bedroom, he sees that Soap is sitting up now at the edge of the bed rubbing at his thigh. Simon gives him a nod, searching for his pants in the dark and stepping into them. He shoves his keys in his pocket. 

How fucking sweet, Simon thinks. He can imagine exactly what a pissant like Alan is thinking, too: that if he buys this lonely girl enough drinks at the bar, she’ll be easy to convince to come home with him. That maybe even if she puts up a bit of a fight, it wouldn’t be much trouble to persuade her…

He picked the wrong fuckin girl. 

“Have him open up his generous wallet and buy you a fuckin’ water. A bottle of it. Break the seal yourself, understand?” 

“I understand,” you say, sounding a little more sober in the face of Simon’s obvious displeasure. He works to temper his voice. 

“Put Alan on,” Simon says silkily. “Let me make sure he’s taking good care of you.” 

“You want to talk to him?” You sound baffled. Maybe you aren’t as drunk as he thought. 

“Said so.” 

There is a rustle as the phone is exchanged. 

A very unsure, masculine voice says, Hello? 

“I’m going to be there to pick up my girl in ten minutes or less,” Simon says into the phone. “If anything happens to her between then and now, I’m considering you personally responsible, Alan, do you understand me? Whether you had anything to do with it or whether it was an accident out of the clear fucking blue. You will answer for it. So if I were you, I’d take good fucking care of her. Am I clear?”

“I—I didn’t know she was taken—“

“Put her back on the phone,” Simon barks. 

You pick up the conversation right where you left off, not missing a single beat. “Anyway, Alan said he would give me a ride home since all my friends bailed, but I remember you said that if I needed a ride, I should call you and…oh Simon, I’m sorry if I woke you. This is stupid, isn’t it?” 

“Negative,” he says, slipping his belt through the loops. “Not stupid, I mean. Send me your location—your address. Get that water. Absolutely do not go home with any fucker who isn’t named Simon.” 

“What about fuckers named Johnny?” 

“Not even them. Name’s too common. Can’t trust you’ll get home with the right one.” 

“I resent that,” says Johnny, reaching for pants of his own. 

Simon hangs up the phone with you. “Ready for some field work?” 

“You know it, LT.” 

-

Johnny’s heart is thrumming happily the entire way there, something about the late night adrenaline and knowing you are on the other end of this excursion. He’s fine in the passenger seat, even if Simon’s driving is enough to give a civilian a heart attack. Johnny can tell that Simon desperately needs the control right now, his knuckles white where he grips the steering wheel, eyes dark and glued to the road except when he glances at Google Maps on his phone every now and then to be sure they are heading in the right direction. 

Johnny hasn’t driven since the accident. He could, likely, but it would be hell on his sore leg. Maybe after he heals more…

By the time the two of them arrive, it is threatening to drizzle, the wet sapping the warmth out of the air. He’s glad he brought his jacket, already shrugging out of it to give you, memory vivid with the skimpy little dress you were wearing when you left the house, the one that bared your legs even while it covered you from shoulder to wrist. 

They spot you leaning against the brick wall outside the bar, sipping your water bottle. They pull up to the curb and Simon reaches for the jacket, abandoning Johnny inside with a firm, Stay Here. Johnny watches from the passenger seat as Simon slips the jacket around your shoulders and takes the water bottle. You are clearly unsteady on your feet (those shoes don’t help, bonnie though they are), and Simon gets to loop his arm around your waist to guide you to the car where the hazard lights are flashing ominously. 

Johnny rolls down the window. 

“Hey lass,” he says. 

Your face lights up at the sight of Johnny. You put your arms through the window and wrap them around him, smelling faintly of your perfume and sweat and Johnny’s own jacket. 

“Alright,” Simon says dryly. “Wrap up the reunion. It’s about to rain.” 

“Come sit in the back with me,” you breathe, breath smelling of sweetness with the underlying tinge of alcohol. Whatever you had been drinking tonight had been strong to have you so out of sorts. Your fingers tangle in Johnny’s shirt a little, tugging. “Please, Johnny? Sit in the back!” 

“Alright, alright,” he agrees with a laugh, even though it is painful to get out of the car and into the backseat, and there isn’t as much room back there for his leg to stretch out. He’s afraid that he might do anything for you if you asked him like that: looking at him with your guileless eyes, fingers tangling in his clothes, moonlight like liquid silver on your skin. 

He slips into the backseat with you and has to help you buckle your seatbelt when you can’t get the clasp closed. Johnny feels Simon’s eyes on him, heavy and dark through the rearview mirror. He meets those eyes and gives a nod. He knows that you're drunk; he doesn’t intend to make any passes at you. 

He just doesn’t expect the passes you make at him. 

Cuddling up to his side, you slip his arm around you and meld into him, careful of his bad leg. It’s hard not to be half in love with you when you treat him like this: with such care, even when you’re three sheets to the wind, but never like he is broken. Never like you doubt his masculinity. You look up at him, forehead briefly brushing against his jaw. 

“Did I wake you up, Johnny?” you ask him, soft and sweet. 

“Aye,” he says. “From good dreams, too.” 

You groan. “I’m so sorry. I knew I should have let Alan drive me home.”

“Who the fuck is Alan?” Johnny asks with a laugh. 

“Forget it,” you mutter sleepily, burrowing against him. His jacket slips off of one of your shoulders, and he has to stretch to replace it. 

He thinks you’ve fallen asleep when it happens: your mouth brushing against the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck. He goes still, eyes flickering to Simon in the rearview mirror (he is dutifully watching the road). Was that an accident? Were you asleep? His every cell seems attuned to yours, to the quiet even breaths you draw in, to the warmth of your body pressed flush against him, to your bare legs stretched out beside him changing lights thanks to the passing streetlamps. Then it happens again: your lips brush against his throat, this time with more intention.  

Johnny can’t help but tilt his head to give you more access, his eyes falling shut, full mouth parting around a longing sigh. Even as his body encourages you, his words seem to carry a threat to them. “Lass, you shouldn’t.” 

You hum and press a kiss there, soft and chaste as anything. The next one though is burning with the warmth of your tongue, and Johnny groans softly, unable to stop himself. You match the sound with a whine, shifting in your seat. Uncomfortable, he realizes—because you’re wet. Because you’re searching for friction on your needy little cunt.

“Fuck, you don’t know what yer doing to me,” he whispers roughly. 

“Johnny,” Simon says, an audible warning rumbling in his tone, eyes now watching in the mirror as often as he dares take them off the road. 

You slur something, but what it is and who it is to is lost in your drunkenness. The hand of the arm you had slipped around him finds a way to his belly, resting against his abs, rustling his shirt upwards a little as you cop a feel. 

Johnny half-heartedly takes your hand away, tries to lace your fingers with his own but you are single-minded in your desire to touch him. 

“This is hardly fair,” he says, his breathy laugh turning into a groan when your fingers brush against one of his nipples by accident. Your fingers finally find the way beneath his shirt, your touch chilly and soft against his heated skin as you stroke along the trail of hair just beneath his navel—

Simon hits the breaks hard, jostling you both in the backseat. The seatbelt locks for a moment and is pulled tight across Johnny’s chest, the lap belt scraping against his hard on in a way that has him hissing.

You lean forward, blinking owlishly. “Did we almost hit somethin’?”

“No,” says Simon. He deadpans: “Just traffic.” 

The road is empty. You find this hilarious, laughing until tears are in your eyes. Even Simon can’t help the effect your laughter has on him; he seems to sit taller in his seat, his hands gripping the wheel with less anxiety, the lines at the corners of his eyes growing as he fights a smile. 

Johnny lets out a chuckle too, one that is more of relief than anything. He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but the last thing he could let himself do is take advantage of you. Nuzzling against the crown of your head, he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. His erection fades alongside your laughter, and the rest of the drive passes in silence. 

They pull into the parking lot of the apartment building at half past two in the morning. 

“Can you walk, love?” Johnny asks.  

No response. Your eyes are closed where you lean against him, mouth parted in a silent snore. 

“Fast asleep,” he tells Simon, brushing his fingers against your temple in an apology when you flinch a little at the sound, eyes fluttering open before settling back into sleep. 

“This is getting out of hand,” Simon says simply. In the mirror he looks tired…and maybe it is just a trick of the light, but he looks sad. “You need to talk to her.” 

A beat of silence. 

“Don’t you mean we need to talk t’her?” Johnny asks. 

Simon doesn’t answer. 

Outside, it begins to rain.

[bunny-jpeg]

show-off (johnny's version)

john "soap" mactavish

cw: smut/pwp, filming, choking, missionary, rough sex, dirty talk (johnny's got the mouth on him), dom!johnny, sub!reader, messy & rough sex, (partial) crying kink, overstimulation

simon's version | price's version | kyle's version

johnny just loved you. you met at the central branch of the public library in edinburgh. you worked as a librarian, even though most of your days were spent hauling carts of returned books around, you felt happy about it. it was a fulfilling job.

but the sargent adored you. the first thing he did when he came home from anytime away as picking you up a nice bouquet of flowers and waiting around the library till you finished up work for the day! it was a charmed little life, and you were a missing piece in johnny's life.

which is why, on a sunny summer morning, the rest of 141 found an interesting video in the team's group chat. a hefty little film that piqued the interest of the three men. the file was labeled "070824_babygirl.mp4".

the video started simple, it was a shot of you in your apartment. in the bed you shared with johnny. but what was interesting was that you were on your back, with the phone's flashlight beaming on your face which gave a clear sight of johnny's other hand around your throat.

it was a erotic sight, you were laid in the soft bed while johnny looked like he was about to fuck you well into the mattress. johnny asked, "how does it feel, baby girl?"

you nodded.

"nah, nah, use yer words." he encouraged as the pressure around your throat grew. you whimpered and he only chuckled, the camera still pointed on you.

"it feels good, johnny."

"nuh uh, uh." he said as he pushed the phone a little further towards you and said, "it ain't johnny tonight, bonnie. don't make me smack ya."

"no, sir." you swallowed, "it feels good, sir." you whined and arched your back a little.

the camera cut down to the sight of johnny's erect cock teasing your pussy. his cock was painfully hard, it was a deep red in colour and leaking precum. your pussy was soaked, with your wetness gleaming in the light of the flashlight.

"pretty thing, huh? don't cha think boys?" he laughed, "take me like a fuckin' champ too. she shouldn't countin' books, she should be countin' how many loads i can get in 'er in a day!"

you whimpered, the language johnny used was definitely not the kind he used when he was bringing you flowers at the library. this was reserved for the dirtiest depths of your bedroom at the most depraved hours of the evening.

he was such a gentleman. but behind the camera as he teased your pussy, he was a menace. mean and crass.

"i see how the boys look at ya." he chuckled darkly, his hand a little firmer on her neck, "i bet they got their pants dropped to the floor and their leaky cocks out to jerk themselves off."

you whined and arched your back. he never fully cut off your air, but the racing in your chest as the possibility of him doing that was immense.

johnny got a good shot of him feverishly making out with you. you whimpered and groaned against him. your pussy throbbed as you could feel his weight on top of you.

"pretty girl." he groaned, "fuckin' beauty. ya like that boys?" he asked the camera before he pulled away and got in position to fuck you properly. his special bonnie deserved to have his cock buried inside of her.

"sir." you whined, "please, please, please!"

johnny chuckled, he pulled his hand away from your throat and slipped his thumb between your lips. the camera trained on you, "my bonnie."

filming this was a surprise, but in a way it was johnny laying proper claim on you. the video would never leave the group chat, it would be saved under a virtual lock and key. no prying eyes except for the task force. he wanted to show that the lovely little librarian was his and his only.

as he slipped his cock into you with rather ease and watched your face scrunch up from the weight inside of you, johnny wanted his teammates to see how much of a good girl you were for him.

"ain't she just special." he purred, egging his teammates on through the camera as he fucked you. he knew he'd probably get some interesting messages once this was sent to the others. but he'd never tell you what those dogs through of you taking his cock so well.

you gripped the bed under you and you could feel the oppressive gaze of the camera on your bare body. you trusted johnny and you trusted the task force that this little video would stay safe. the last thing you wanted was the embarrassment of knowing that you took cock like a champ!

"you're so beautiful." he said, "fuckin' beautiful. don't want anyone else but you, i want to fuck you until i can't anymore. you're my bonnie, my sweet girl." his voice was laced with heavy lust, "how much you take of me, you just take it all so good."

you whimpered, "johnny."

"ah, ah, ah, don't slip up now, bonnie." he said as he squeezed your thigh, "i'd hate for this to turn into a punishment video. i know ghost would love the sight of your bruised ass." he chuckled as he continued to fuck you.

the sounds of sex filled the bedroom and picked up on the camera's microphone. it was in crystal clear audio. the boys knew that your pussy was being bruised from his heavy thrusts.

"please, sir!" you whimpered as you laid under him. you tried to keep up with his pace but it was hard, johnny could be so erratic in bed. he fucked you like a man on a mission. it was messy and loud.

"i like how you say that, girlie.' he laughed as he held your face to look at the camera. he held you jaw tightly as he watched pretty little tears form in your eyes form the over stimulation.

your core throbbed with an insistent need to have every last inch of your boyfriend's cock buried inside of you. you were just so painfully cute.

"so cute when you cry." he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead. he held your face as he pulled away to get the best angle of filming. he wanted the experience to be pleasurable for his team too. he huffed through his nose as he felt the heat in his body.

"sir." you blubbered.

johnny chuckled and watched you cry. the flashlight on the phone was so bright and made you whimper even more. but johnny just adored the sight, "pretty thing." he purred, "fuck yer little brain out so you can't even go to work tomorrow." he laughed as he bounced you on his cock.

you tried to use the sheets as leverage to keep you steady but johnny's hard thrusts just sent you into overdrive. he was battering your cute little cunt and you were practically drooling on it.

"no one at the library would've ever guessed that she was such a fuckin' hound for me cock.' he laughed, his language was degrading but it made you squeeze around his cock, "those cute little skirt hide those soaked panties. i keep tellin' 'er that i should be fuckin' 'er in the bathroom durin' 'er break! maybe the boys can give me a lil advice on how to make you more agreeable. how do ya feel about that?"

you looked up at him, tears still twinkled in your eyes as you tried to say another word, but it died in your throat as your body tensed up. you squeezed your eyes shut and your mouth opened a little as a healthy moan left your lips.

"good, bonnie." he said, "cum fer me."

you clawed at the covers and arched your back as you felt your head go into a spin. you came around his cock. you panted heavily, your lungs burned for air as you hit your peak. the drop down from it left you dizzy and your tongue hanging out of your mouth like a dog.

johnny patted your face, happy he caught your climax on camera. he turned his attention to his cock spearing you open. he pointed the device to your pussy that was still so greedy for his cock. the milky rim around the base of his cock that dripped down his hairy balls was a sign that he was treating his missus right.

he continued to bounce you on his cock. he even played with your clit a little which caused you to kick your legs out and almost yelp from the shock of pleasure. maybe that would be a little overkill (for tonight).

his pace staggered, as if it wasn't an disorganized mess already. he looked down at you with hunger as he felt his cock twitch inside of your sweet heat. you were an all consuming force and johnny was obsessed with you.

not in a stalking in a bushes sense, but rather follow you to the ends of the earth. he watched you shed a few more tears as he felt his climax in the back of his throat.

"good girl. a good little slut for me." he purred, "i bet the rest of the team is going to love it." he got in closer and asked, "do you have a little message for the boys?"

"si..sir." you whimpered.

johnny chuckled, "poor, lass." he rubbed your head by your forehead, jerking it around playfully as he continued his assault on your cunt, "fuck those last few brain cells out." his pat on your face was almost patronizing.

his orgasm pulled at him as the tight heat of your cunt lured him in. he could feel the seat down his back as he gave it a last few strokes before he slammed himself to the root and finished inside of you.

he licked his lips and slowed down. it felt so good. he swallowed in an attempt to compose himself after the intense feeling. he was still filming your sweet pussy.

"wanna tell the boys how yer doin'?" he asked after a few moments of silence with a chuckle, "pretty girl, face full of tears." his accent hung heavy as wiped your tears away with the scratchy pad of his thumb.

"feels good, sir."

"that's what i like to hear. pretty bonnie under me, legs spread up. lettin' me fuck her for ma boys." he laughed, "got me goin' all over again."

"johnny please." you whimpered.

'alright, alright." he said, his voice a little softer, "i'll turn the camera off and make sure you get fucked right to sleep. say goodnight to the team."

you blinked up at the camera, you looked like a debauched little slut as you said, "goodnight simon, goodnight captain price, goodnight kyle."

johnny patted your cheek and you melted into his touch. he said, "ma girl knows her manners." then the video cut off.

there was a message that was sent after the video was sent, it said, "pretty little thing, eh? you can only look don't touch!" <3

[lavenderspence]

Sweater Thief | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, domestic fluff, mention of scars, inaccurate use of law jargon

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: You’ve always loved wearing Aaron’s quarter zip, especially when he is away on a case. But he also loves coming home and seeing you in it.

A/N: Welp, this is my first Hotch fic! Honestly, I love this so much, and the inspo is simply my love and appreciation for Hotch in a quarter zip sweater, simply delicious. Enjoy this little baby, I have more Hotch fics in the works. And also, storyboards or gifs, what's better?

masterlist

The house felt unusually cold for mid-September. The sun had long ago gone down the horizon, taking the little warmth it had provided with itself. Your home was quiet - Jack was spending the 3 day weekend with Jessica, and Aaron had been on a case in Massachusetts for the past 4 days. 

You were feeling the loneliness slowly start to take over. Although Jack had been gone for no more than 4 hours, you had gotten used to it being the two of you whenever Aaron was away. He’d become your little partner in crime in the year and a half you've been dating his dad. He was an unbelievably charming and calm kid - you guessed the perfect mixture of both his parents. At least you thought as much, from what Aaron, Jessica, and Jack had shared about Haley. 

He loved cartoons, and he loved building things - legos and 3D models. He also loved puzzles, especially when you helped him assemble them. 

But you also shared one very important thing - you both loved and missed his dad whenever he was traveling for work. That’s why having each other was so special, and spending time together was always a blast - you baked together, you played, and you went on walks. You were there for each other whenever Aaron had to work.

To be fair, neither you nor Jack blame Aaron or his job. You knew how important it was to him and how important his work was to the families that faced tragedy. He was an important part of the BAU, and he needed to do what he was doing - he was made to help people. 

But not having him here and not having Jack to love on, and take care of, the house felt far too empty and quiet. It was bringing forth a sadness that often came with the feeling of missing him, and in this case, missing them both.

With a defeated sigh, knowing you had nothing to do this evening, and with the cold chilling you almost to the bone, you started for the stairs and walked into the master bedroom. You made it into the closet and went searching around deep in Aaron’s winter clothes until you found what you were looking for and pulled it free. 

The quarter zip was dark brown and soft against your palms, and it faintly smelled like him. It was one of your favorite pieces of clothing he owned and your favorite to wear when he wasn’t home. 

You pulled it on, almost melting into the fabric. It was a little big on you, reaching down past your hipbones, and around your fingers. That was fine though, it was just another reason to love his clothes. You felt like you were wrapped around him, calmed by the feeling and the scent of him around you. It made you feel just a tad less lonely, especially today. 

You went around the house, doing small things here and there, trying to pass the time. After an hour though, you felt like you needed your mind occupied, just for a little while longer. Like a part deep inside of you was expecting Aaron home tonight.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d stayed up to wait for him to get home, but he usually called if he was returning in the late hours of the evening. A call hadn’t come though, neither had a text, and still you felt it. 

You found yourself in the study, pulling a book from the shelf before you relaxed on the little couch there and cracked it open. No more than 40 minutes had gone by, escaping into the world the pages painted for you, when you heard the front door. The familiar clank of Aaron’s keys being put on the little table by the door followed. 

You dog-eared the book, too excited to search for anything else to mark your progress, and then you left the room, making your way towards the front to welcome him home.

He’d just taken his shoes off, pulling his tie free, when you spotted him by the door. He heard you walk it, smiling your way gently, if a little tiredly.

“Hi, honey.” He greeted you with a whisper, just as you stepped in front of him. Your arms automatically wrapped around his middle, and your face found its’ favorite place - at the crook of his neck. You sagged against each other, a sigh escaping him, just your touch enough to make him relax.

“Hey, I missed you.” You whispered back, as he pulled you even closer to himself, one arm low on your back, as the other cradled your head with a gentle touch.

“I missed you, too.” He pulled back, only to lean in for a sweet kiss. His lips pressed against yours tenderly, a magnetic current passing through you at the touch. As you relaxed into the kiss, letting him bleed his love though, the longing within you quieted. You took everything he gave, and still wished for more, starving for him and his touch, after days when you couldn’t have him like this.  

You’d never get enough of the kisses he pulled you into the moment he walked home. The yarning for each other and the quiet relief of finally being in the arms of the person who loved and cherished you like no other. Kisses full of want and love. So similar in taste, but vastly different every time, as if each time was the first time he was coming back home to you. 

When he pulled away, he cradled your face in his hands. You studied him, the dark circles under his eyes were now more evident than ever. His hair looked unkempt as if the frustration of the job had really gotten to him this time. The more he looked at you, the more his eyes softened, and the worry left his body gradually. 

“Why are you up this late?” His thumb ran across your cheekbone.

“Had a feeling you might be coming home tonight.” He pulled you to him, kissing the side of your head as you slowly started pulling him towards the bedroom. He left his go bag next to the door, leaving the worry of unpacking for tomorrow. 

You finished pulling his tie free, before removing it. His suit jacket came off next, and you draped it over the back of the vanity chair. 

His hands found a place on your hips, and every few seconds he’d give you a light squeeze as you worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

“Isn’t this the sweater I was looking for before I went to Boston?” He tugged on it gently, a furrow in his brows, but the smile on his face betrayed him, he was amused because he already knew the answer.

“Oh, this one? I must have been thinking about another one, sorry honey.” You were barely holding in your smile. This was in fact the quarter zip he had been looking for 4 days ago, wanting to pack it in case of bad weather, but you’d stashed it deep into the closet after the last time he’d worn it. 

He chuckled, sounding tired, as you pulled off his shirt, laying a few kisses on his chest and abdomen as you chased the phantom pain of the scars left standing from his past. Each one got attention, just like every time you undressed him. His breathing always picked up, at first in surprise, and quickly after that out of love. 

You knew his feelings about the scars left from a dark moment in his life, having talked about it at length, and you always told him the same thing. Regardless of his past, his demons, fears, and even those scars, the man that he was now, was the man you loved. The man you went home to, kissed every morning and each night, whose smile you saw in your sleep. Nothing was going to change that. 

You went in search of a sleep shirt for him as he finished getting undressed. 

“I knew you were a heart thief, sweetheart, I mean, I have the evidence to prove it, but a sweater thief, I didn’t take you for.” He pulled you into another kiss, voice teasing, as was the smile on his face. He always claimed you stole his heart, but then again, he’d stolen yours just the same. 

“Your honor, the prosecution has no evidence to support such a claim, it’s all a ploy to smear my good name,” You rambled, getting a rich laugh out of him, “In all fairness, it smells like you, reminds me of you in the sweetest and hottest way possible. It’s comforting, whenever you’re away on the job.” You confessed. 

He searched your eyes before he pulled you in to kiss your forehead, “Next time we’re sent on a case, I’ll make sure to leave something for you to wear while I’m away.” He promised, before he undressed you too, pulling one of his shirts over your head, and taking you to bed, where he cuddled you until morning. 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!