#the stubborn and never wavering intent

[pedrospatch]

fall into temptation | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter Reader

series masterlist

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin��� earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you wore underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

[shdysders]

supposed to hate you

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara can’t stand you—or at least, that’s what she keeps telling herself as her feelings start to betray her.

word count: 4.2k

Tara hated you.

She always had, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. There was no big moment, no obvious reason, just an unshakable irritation that bubbled up whenever you were near.

It was the way you'd slide into a room like you owned it, or that casual grin you wore like it was a personal insult to her bad day.

And, God, did it get under her skin when you'd laugh too loudly, making yourself the center of attention without even trying.

It was as if everything you did was meant to grate on her, whether it was intentional or not.

Even the smallest things—like how you'd hum under your breath or that habit of fidgeting with anything in reach—felt like they were tailored to press every one of her buttons.

And you knew she hated you.

Somehow, Tara was sure you’d caught on long ago, because why else would you keep doing all those little things that drove her up the wall?

The smug smile whenever she entered the room, the way you’d throw playful jabs at her to get a rise out of her, or that habit of smirking at her determination as if it were a joke.

She could swear you were doing it all on purpose.

But somehow, despite all this, the two of you had ended up in the same friend group, circling each other with forced politeness for everyone else's sake. And for some reason, none of them understood the tension between you and Tara.

Yet the two of you never seemed to have a normal conversation; every exchange was a battleground of snarky comebacks and teasing remarks.

You had this way of throwing her little digs back at her, always one step ahead with some sly remark that kept the tension alive. It was like you'd both accepted that bickering was your default, each ready with a retort before the other had even finished talking.

What made it worse was that, for some reason, the rest of the group found your dynamic entertaining.

Mindy, especially, seemed convinced that Tara's irritation ran so deep because, deep down, the two of you were practically the same.

She'd even pointed out once that, with your stubbornness, quick wit, and constant arguments, you were basically Tara's double. But that idea only made Tara's anger simmer hotter.

The thought that anyone could see her in you was something she refused to accept, and it left her even more determined to despise you.

And it was no different now, as Tara sat in the middle of her English class, which was already dragging when the second bell rang.

Mrs. Jenkins was already droning on at the front of the room, her slow voice making it impossible to keep focused.

Mrs. Jenkins was the type of teacher whose voice could lull anyone to sleep within minutes—a slow, monotone drawl that somehow never wavered, no matter the subject.

She was a small, wiry woman with glasses perched precariously at the tip of her nose, always casting a critical gaze over the top of them as if searching for the next pair of students to corral into cooperation.

Tara usually found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, pinching her wrist to keep her focus whenever Mrs. Jenkins launched into another long-winded explanation.

Mrs. Jenkins was also notorious for her obsession with partner projects. For some reason, she'd decided that her students could never be trusted to work alone, and she always seemed to pair people up in the worst possible combinations.

Almost like she thought throwing everyone into random pairs would somehow force them into cooperation or something.

Tara was just settling in, halfway through mindlessly tapping her pen against her notebook, when you pushed open the door.

You strolled in, two minutes late, looking completely unfazed, like walking in after the bell was some kind of statement.

Just seeing you made her want to roll her eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the empty seats around the room, her stomach sinking as she realized the only free one left was right next to her. She clenched her jaw.

Of course that would happen.

Of course Anika had to stay home with the flu. And of course Tara couldn't help but blame nobody but Annika for her luck, not Mrs. Jenkins for not separating the seats.

You looked around, smirked when your gaze landed on her, and started making your way over. She braced herself, already annoyed as you dropped into the seat with a casual grin that somehow felt like it was just for her.

She shot you a look, voice low but sharp enough to make her irritation clear.

"Do you ever show up on time?"

You shot her a sideways grin, unfazed. "Wouldn't want you getting bored without me."

And there it was again—the familiar spark of irritation, mixed with something else she didn't care to admit.

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

"Trust me," she shot back, arching an eyebrow with a cool stare that could cut glass. "You're not that interesting." Her voice had that hard edge to it, her words clipped as if she hoped each one would hit its mark.

She felt a flicker of satisfaction at her retort, a sense of determination to get the last word in—just once.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew how this would end. She never got the last word with you; somehow, you always had a comeback ready, some sly remark that kept her on edge, just a half-step behind.

It was infuriating, knowing you'd already won this exchange before she'd even finished talking, and yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself from trying.

So of course, her comeback only made you chuckle softly. You tilted your head, still studying her with that amused glint in your eyes. "You seem to be paying me a lot of attention for someone who's supposedly not interested."

Tara clenched her jaw, already thinking up a response, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat at the front of the room, pulling everyone's attention.

She held a stack of papers, her voice filling the room as she announced, "Alright, everyone. Today, we're starting partner projects," she announced, eyeing the class as she held up a stack of papers.

"You'll be working in pairs, and since we're short a few people"—her gaze swept over to you and Tara.

And, of course, with Annika out and no one else nearby, it was clear who Tara's partner would be.

"The two of you can work together." She gestured loosely at the two of you with her whole hand, her glasses slipping to the tip of her nose as if she was sealing your fate herself.

Tara's stomach twisted. Just her luck.

Out of all the people in the class, she had to be stuck with you. She could already feel the annoyance creeping up, the certainty that this project would be anything but smooth.

Being around you always felt like walking a tightrope—every word, every look somehow irked her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

She let out a quiet sigh, bracing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew would come with working together.

Mrs. Jenkins continued pairing the rest of the class, her voice droning on as she named off each group.

You seemed to watch each pairing, eyes following her hand as she pointed out partners as if every decision mattered. Of course you were paying attention to all of it, Tara thought, irritated. That was just like you.

Not that she cared who anyone else ended up with. Because right now, all her energy was spent swallowing down the frustration of being paired with you, knowing she was in for a long, drawn-out project full of the exact same tension you'd just exchanged.

Mrs. Jenkins, satisfied with her pairings, stepped back up to the front of the class. She cleared her throat, waiting for the murmur of voices to die down, before adjusting her glasses and lifting the stack of papers in her hand.

She started explaining the assignment, something about analyzing a passage from a novel they'd been studying, breaking it down in pairs to present next week.

Tara tried to focus on the instructions, but she was painfully aware of your presence beside her, the faint tapping of your pen on the desk as you listened with that half-smile still lingering on your face.

She could feel you glancing her way, as if you knew how much this was getting under her skin, and it only made her determination to prove you wrong even stronger.

Once Mrs. Jenkins finished talking and handed out the assignment sheets, she walked around, checking in with pairs as they began discussing the project.

Tara looked over at you, already preparing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew was coming, her expression set.

"Do you even remember what novel we're supposed to be working with?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation.

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms with that familiar look of feigned concentration. "Oh, yeah. The Great Gatsby, right?"

She stared at you, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook. Just when she thought you couldn't be more infuriating, here you were, throwing out the wrong title like it was nothing.

How could anyone be this clueless?

But before she could bite back, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, that glint of amusement flashing in your eyes. "Relax, I'm kidding. It's Wuthering Heights."

Her jaw clenched, annoyance sharpening into something colder as she shook her head. "Right," she muttered, her tone dry. "Because it would kill you to just answer like a normal person."

You tapped your fingers idly on the desk, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Alright, so how are we splitting this? Or should I just sit here while you write the entire thing and glare at me for breathing too loud?"

Tara shot you a look, eyes narrowing. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I'll be doing all the work anyway," she snapped, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

Your smirk widened as you put your hands up in mock surrender, leaning back in your chair. "Well, if you're insisting on it, I really can't stop you."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, words caught in her throat as she considered snapping back.

But before she could come up with something biting enough, you tilted your head, dropping the playful tone just slightly. "So, realistically, whose place are we doing this at?"

The question made Tara's irritation deepen into something heavier. The idea of having to work on this project outside of class with you felt exhausting.

But you both knew very well that Mrs. Jenkins' lessons were always cut short by the schedule, leaving too little time to actually make progress in class.

Tara already dreaded the awkwardness and frustration of dealing with you here; the thought of it extending into her free time was worse.

Bringing you to her house was out of the question. Sam would almost definitely be home, and knowing Sam, she'd make a point of chatting with you. It was infuriating that Sam didn't seem to share her distaste for you.

But going to your house? Tara's mind reeled for a logical excuse—something about it felt even less appealing.

Without looking up from her notebook as she jotted down a few notes to avoid meeting your eyes, she muttered, "I was thinking the library, if you've ever set foot in one of those."

You chuckled softly, that amused glint back in your eyes. "I didn't know you cared about my literacy so much. But sure, the library works."

You paused for a moment, leaning a bit closer. "You free after school, or is that the time you reserve for taking that stick out of your ass?"

Tara's jaw clenched, eyes snapping up to meet yours, her pencil threatening to snap under the pressure of her grip. You'd agreed, sure, but you'd managed to infuriate her all the same.

"After school's fine," she said flatly, before turning her attention pointedly back to her notes, wishing the bell would ring already.

Fortunately for Tara, it did, just minutes later, the sharp clang cutting through the tension that had coiled around her like a vice.

It seemed to be the only stroke of luck she could count on for the week, at least.

As soon as the sound echoed through the room, Tara was up, shoving her notebook into her bag with quick, agitated movements. She didn't waste a second, her movements brisk as she ignored your casual, "See you later," tossed her way.

Without waiting for anyone or pausing to catch her breath, she pushed her way through the bustling hallway, weaving between groups of students and dodging backpacks that jutted out into her path.

The sooner she was away from you, the better.

When she reached a spot far away from everyone, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and yanked her phone out of her pocket, still walking. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed:

guess who i'm stuck working with for the english project?

The response came almost immediately, as if Mindy had been waiting for some kind of drama to break out.

Spill.

Before Tara could type a response, her phone buzzed again with a string of messages from Mindy.

Bryan who always falls asleep in history?

Loud chewing Hannah?

Victor?!

Tara let out a breathy laugh despite herself, rolling her eyes at the rapid-fire guesses. Mindy's knack for dramatics never failed to pull her out of her own frustration, even if just for a moment.

She was about to tap out a reply when she spotted Mindy leaning against her locker, arms crossed and a curious look already on her face.

"Finally," Mindy said as if she hasn't been waiting for no longer than two minutes, pushing off the locker with a grin. "So, who's the lucky partner?"

Tara snapped her phone screen off and glanced over, still holding onto her irritation. "You won't believe it," she muttered, janking her own locker open with more force than necessary.

Mindy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh! Don't tell me it's Brian from algebra—you know, the one who still counts on his fingers."

Tara's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, but she quickly suppressed it. "Worse."

Mindy leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Worse than Brian?" She tilted her head, rattling off another guess. "Please don't say it's Becca from gym class, the one who makes breathing into a competition."

Tara let out a humorless laugh. "No, but I'd take Becca over this."

Mindy's grin faltered as she studied Tara's expression. Realization dawned on her face, and she gasped dramatically. "Wait, no. Y/N?"

Tara's silence was answer enough.

Mindy's mouth dropped open before she broke into a chuckle. "What, did Mrs. Jenkins draw names out of a hat and decide to create chaos?"

Tara groaned, closing her eyes for a second. "Feels like it."

Mindy nudged her shoulder playfully. "Hey, maybe this is your chance to finally work out whatever weird tension is between you two."

Tara's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. "Don't. Even."

Mindy laughed, raising her hands in surrender but couldn't help adding, "Come on, Tara. It's like fate's way of telling you to loosen up. Maybe you need a challenge."

Tara shook her head, slamming her locker shut and pushing past Mindy, muttering, "The last thing I need is Y/N's smug face outside of class."

Mindy's voice followed her as she walked away. "Or maybe it's exactly what you need!"

"No," Tara muttered, shoving a stray book into her bag with unnecessary force. "And I don't want to."

Mindy leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "This is your chance. Come on, Tara, look at you—you need to ease up. You need a good—"

"Stop," Tara interrupted, the flush on her cheeks deepening as she scowled. "Don't even go there."

Mindy's grin only widened, unfazed by Tara's glare. "A good fuck," she finished, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt.

Tara's eyes widened in shock, the blush on her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Mindy!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard. The hallway was busy, students rushing to their next classes, but Tara still felt exposed.

The comment sent a wave of nausea through her as well. "Are you out of your mind? That's not even funny," she shot back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger.

Mindy just laughed, the sound light and carefree. "What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," she said with a casual shrug. "You've been wound up tighter than a drum, and now you're paired up with the one person who gets under your skin the most. Tell me that isn't some cosmic joke."

Tara rolled her eyes, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. "It's not a joke. It's a nightmare," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

Mindy reached out, stopping Tara just before she could turn away. "Hey, just... think about it," she said, her tone softening for a moment. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you're expecting."

Tara pulled her arm away, shaking her head as she started walking again. "It'll be worse," she whispered to herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down as she disappeared into the crowd.

___

It wasn’t worse.

Despite Tara's initial dread, working with you at the library hadn't been as unbearable as she'd anticipated.

Sure, there were moments where your casual confidence and the way you smirked at her when making a point still made her grit her teeth.

You'd tap your pen absentmindedly while explaining your ideas, a habit she found irritatingly distracting. And then there was the way you'd throw in a playful jab every now and then, your eyes glinting with amusement when she huffed in response.

But, to Tara's reluctant surprise, you were sharp, insightful even, when it came to analyzing.

The discussion had gone more smoothly than she'd expected, with ideas bouncing back and forth faster than she'd thought possible.

It struck her, in a fleeting moment she wasn't prepared for, that you weren't as infuriating now as you'd always seemed within the confines of the friend group.

You were still you, with your annoyingly self-assured manner and the smirk that made her want to roll her eyes, but it didn't seem so intolerable when it was just the two of you.

She had tried to shake off the thought, feeling a flicker of annoyance that she even had to acknowledge it.

But just as she had felt they were getting somewhere, her phone had buzzed in her pocket.

Unfortunately���or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it—Sam had been calling, the texts piling up with increasing urgency, wondering where Tara was and why she hadn't come home yet. Tara's stomach clenched as she skimmed through the messages, noting the slight panic in Sam's words.

Realizing she couldn't ignore it any longer, she had packed up her things, muttering that you'd have to finish another time.

You didn't seem bothered, giving her a nod and a quick, teasing smile that left her more annoyed than she cared to admit as she left the library.

When she had gotten home that night, sleep eluded her. She had tossed and turned, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Thoughts of your discussions swirled in her mind, mingling with that annoying realization that you weren't as insufferable as she had always believed.

Over the following week, she had found herself paying more attention to you than she intended to. It wasn't like she had tried to; it just happened.

You were there, cracking jokes during lunch, your laugh ringing out louder than anyone else's, and Tara caught herself stealing glances when you were busy chatting with the rest of the group.

Even when you weren't around, she found herself thinking about you, which irked her more than she cared to admit.

It was infuriating how often you popped into her head, making her wonder what you would say in any given situation, or how you would tease her if you were there.

Tara gritted her teeth at the thought, refusing to admit how much it bothered her that she couldn't stop.

She hated that you had gotten under her skin, and she wasn't sure what it meant. All she knew was that it felt wrong to be so intrigued by you, and yet, here she was, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about her too.

It was confusing. Annoying, even. Tara hated the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about you lately.

But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they seemed to cling to her. It wasn't just that you were smart-mouthed and quick-witted, though those things had always gotten under her skin.

No, it was something else—things she hadn't noticed before, or maybe things she had noticed but refused to acknowledge.

The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking.

Tara had started to notice that your smiles were different when you weren't throwing one of your usual smirks in her direction. When you smiled genuinely—like when you were talking to your friends or when you thought something was genuinely funny—it was softer, almost shy, and it made her stomach do this stupid little flip.

She hated that she even noticed it, but she couldn't help it. That smile wasn't something you gave to just anyone, and that realization made her heart race in a way she wasn't ready to confront.

And that damn smirk.

Tara couldn't get it out of her head.

There was something about it that drove her crazy, and not in the way she wanted to admit. It was infuriating how much she wanted to wipe it off your face—literally, and, to her horror, in ways she'd never imagined before.

She caught herself staring at your lips sometimes as well, wondering what it would be like to just lean in and kiss you, to catch you off guard and see that cocky expression falter.

The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of desire and disgust. What was wrong with her? Since when did she think about kissing you, of all people?

Why was this happening? Why couldn't she just hate you like she used to?

She'd always been good at handling her emotions, keeping them locked up tight where they couldn't hurt her.

But lately, whenever you were around, that control started to slip. It was like you'd found a way under her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get you out.

She hated it. Hated how her heart raced whenever you smirked at her, how her stomach twisted with something that wasn't quite anger anymore.

She'd never felt this way before—this mix of anger and attraction that left her feeling off-balance, like she was constantly walking a tightrope. It was ridiculous, disgusting even, how much she let it affect her.

You were supposed to be her rival, her annoyance, the person she loved to hate. And yet, here she was, her thoughts consumed with you in ways that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

She was supposed to hate you, not fantasize about something so ridiculous. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they lingered, haunting her even when you weren't around.

It was like she was losing herself, becoming someone she didn't recognize. How could she be so weak, so pathetic, to let these feelings take over?

The thought of you seeing her like this, vulnerable and conflicted, made her sick to her stomach. You'd probably just laugh at her, throw some snarky remark her way that would make her feel even smaller than she already did.

She needed to get a grip. This was just some stupid, fleeting attraction, nothing more.

It had to be.

She refused to believe that she actually liked you, that she wanted something more than just the back-and-forth banter that had defined your relationship.

Because if she admitted that, if she acknowledged the truth, it would change everything.

And that scared her more than anything.

So she did what she always did—pushed those thoughts down, buried them deep where they couldn't hurt her.

She'd pretend that nothing was different, that she didn't feel her pulse quicken whenever you walked into the room, that she didn't think about your stupid smirk when she was alone at night.

It was easier that way. Safer.

But deep down, she knew she was just lying to herself. And as much as she hated it, those feelings weren't going away. They were only getting stronger, no matter how hard she fought against them. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because she was supposed to hate you.

[syluslnd]

RAAAAA I LOVE YOUR STORIES SM!!!! Anyway, be sure to take breaks and get much sleep. <3

Okay so on to the request, Reader and Sylus having their lil date night at a fancy restaurant. Reader gets up and she excuses herself to the bathroom. After a while, while sylus is waiting and waiting.. Reader never got back to the table. Sylus got up to look for her. He finds her eventually but! There was a group of guys surrounding her. Reader was in distress while trying to be polite to the group of guys. (She can fight them if she wants. But it's 1 vs 5 she didn't want to take the risk)

(this one is on you, either Reader sees sylus and goes to him and hides behind him and they both leave OR protective Sylus mode on. Go wild)

Anyway PLEASE AND THANK YOU 🙏

sylus protecting you

Sylus had gone all out for the evening, treating you to an extravagant dinner at a high-end restaurant, where crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead and soft classical music played in the background.

He'd been watching you intently, every movement, every smile-captivated by your joy as you two laughed, shared bites and basked in each other's company.

At one point, you excused yourself to the restroom, assuring him you'd be right back.

But minutes ticked by and the faintest hint of worry flashed across Sylus's eyes. He gave it a moment longer but then feeling something was off, he decided to go check on you.

As he moved through the corridor leading to the restrooms, his gaze darkened as he saw a group of five men surrounding you, blocking your way back. You were politely trying to defuse the situation, a slight tremor in your voice as you asked them to let you pass.

"Gentlemen" Sylus's voice cut through the air, calm, almost deceptively so. "I believe she asked you to step aside."

Relief flooded your face as you darted toward him, instinctively hiding behind him as you clutched his arm. Sylus glanced down at you with a reassuring smile, then turned his gaze back to the men, his face now a mask of deadly calm.

"Go back inside, kitten” he murmured, though his tone held an unyielding edge.

"You don't need to be here for this."

You shook your head, stubbornly refusing to leave. "I'm not leaving you alone with them" you insisted, voice wavering slightly but resolute.

Sylus chuckled, a low, dark sound that sent a chill through the air. "Stubborn as ever." He gave you a quick nod, as if to say, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you. Then, his entire demeanor shifted as he turned his full attention to the men, his eyes now burning with a dangerous intensity.

"You picked the wrong person to harass tonight” Sylus said, his tone cold as ice.

Without waiting for a response, he closed the distance between him and the nearest man, striking him so swiftly that the man staggered back, clutching his face.

"What's wrong?" Sylus taunted, voice dripping with cruelty as he caught the man by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

"You thought you'd pick on someone innocent? Let's see how brave you are now."

One of the others lunged at him, but Sylus sidestepped with ease, delivering a brutal punch to the man's stomach before grabbing his arm and twisting it with a sickening crack. The man crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain. "Stay down or I'll make it worse” Sylus growled, his voice deadly calm.

The remaining three men exchanged glances, but Sylus gave them no time to react. With ruthless efficiency, he knocked one down with a swift kick, then grabbed the next by his shirt, whispering, "If you so much as look at her again, I'll make you regret it."

In a final move, he threw the last man back against the wall, his gaze a merciless glint as he stood over him. "Let this be a lesson” he spat. "She's mine and you're nothing more than a pathetic waste of space."

You watched in a mix of awe and shock, seeing Sylus unleash a side of himself you rarely saw. He straightened, brushing off his suit as if nothing had happened, before turning to you, his expression instantly softening as he took your hand. "Come on, kitten” he murmured, his voice back to its usual gentle tone. "Let's get back to dinner."

As he led you away, you couldn't help but lean into him, heart pounding, your respect for him growing deeper than ever.

[cosycafune]

WE WERE 15 ONCE, BUT WE'RE 19 NOW.

you and eren are oblivious idiots, but eren’s finally had enough of not being able to claim you as his. so, maybe a four year memory will finally let you get the memo?

acts: fluff, kissing, confessions, suggestions of sex and making out.

Eren's very sure with how he feels. His heart burns and longs for the beauty of your own, and he knows you long for him too. That's why the two of you remain beneath the cosy autumn tree, the sedona and viridian leaves trickling down besides the two of you.

Cutely, this moment gave the both of you deju va -- particularly as you brought your camera out. Your camera to beautifully frame the man you love's face, even if he's flustered -- the tips of his fingers itching for something to grasp upon.

"What's wrong, Eren?" Naively questioning Eren, you observe his moss green eyes stain your own -- lively and full of bubbling passon.

"Does this tree not remind you of when we were fifteen?" Eren meekly questions, his stoic eyes yearning for you to pick up on his only prominent social cue.

Right now, he longed to reenact the tender kiss you both shared at fifteen. A kiss the two of you once swore to never recite out loud again, sheltering it from your friends, family and anyone else who lingered. Within that moment, the two of you knew that kiss felt right -- hence why the both of you avoiding seeking relationships, intimacy or anything else.

"Because this is the same spot, doofus," Rolling your eyes at Eren's sudden daftness, your lips part with your ending words -- familiarity adorning you.

"I'm going to be straight up because I give up," Eren's bluntness causes you to glance intensely at him, the illuminated sun tinting your cayenne skin hue.

Inevitably, the sun beaming upon you and your blonde wig captivated him -- leaving him a mental wreck at your beauty. But even so, he failed to ignore the roughness in your breaths -- as his ethereal characteristics overwhelmed you. Overwhelmed you with him towering over you, intimidatingly glancing down at a smaller you.

“Eren, be more specific,” Airily speaking, your heart wavers as Eren’s closeness clings to you.

“Do you love me?” Eren’s needy voice leaves you gasping, longing for something you had never accessed before: confirmation.

“Ask me on a date first, but do you love me, Eren?” Answering Eren’s question with a question, you observe him shake his head — processing your stubbornness.

“I love you, idiot,” Muttering, Eren plasters his nimble fingers upon your cheek — smushing the sponginess.

“I’ll take you on a date, then,” Blurting with shame, Eren pauses — his breaths tainted.

Embarrassed, Eren’s eyes widened at being straight forward without any other indication.

“I love you, too,” Admitting something suppressed, you greet Eren’s yearning eyes with fondness.

It’s obvious that he wanted to kiss you.

“Kiss me, Eren,” In a trance, Eren’s lips lovingly smear against your own — commanded by your soft order.

Swooning, you bask in Eren’s cushiony lips — listening to the grunts and whimpers that leave his doughy lips. Lips that you tug upon, kissing frantically with an undying franticness.

“Shit,” Mewling, Eren shakily continues to smother you with kisses — knowing that he’s longed for this for so long.

For all this time, Eren had reserved himself for you — in hopes your intentions meet his own. And in his favour, they had — as you’re bound to be steering home with him. A home that had been filled with tension-filled platonic moments, craving to ripen.

“Take your time,” Reassuring Eren, your heart thuds frantically at his neediness — incapable of handling this aspect of him.

“‘Been waiting for this so long,” Eren musters out, his tone whiny and desperate — addicted to the largeness of your lips. Glossed lips that formulate a melody with his own, beneath the autumnal hues.

“Same, so let me get one more picture of you,” Speaking, gifting Eren one more kiss, you glance at his dazed state.

Smiling, you admire your masterpiece. Eren’s stained with your tinted, two-toned lipgloss — smeared upon his lips and his rosy cheeks. Everything within his eyes are starry, his breathing rough whilst he glances down at you — processing emotions you attempt to unpack, too.

“After, let’s go back,” Gently, Eren announces — his lips and eyes clinging to you.

—

do not repost, modify or repost my work as your own. all rights reserved: cosycafune. 2024.

[eunseoksimp]

Infatuation ; Park Wonbin

Pairings: Cheater!Wonbin x Devoted!Reader

Genre: angst, infidelity

Description: an exploration of secrecy, infidelity, and the complex emotions that arise from these actions. a woman who is in a painful relationship with a man who she loves, but is seen as nothing more than the object of his desires. an unfortunate tale of a woman making a God out of a mortal.

Warnings: mentions of sex, swear words, illusion to mental health issues (depression, bpd), mentions of religious ideas, obsession, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating.

loosely inspired by sad girl by lana del rey, i had this song on repeat while writing this.

‘he’s never going to love you like you want him to.’

you were often told this; after all what good came from being the mistress in another persons relationship.

but this didn’t bother you at all, they didn’t understand wonbin like you did. people always said you would never be anything to him but his little side chick, like a trophy.

he was essentially clyde and you were his bad bitch partner in crime, bonnie. only, the love between you two wasn’t as passionate, at least not on wonbin’s side.

it was hard to see at first that park wonbin would never truly be yours, that he would never love you the way that you hope he will.

but that didn’t bother you, because being his mistress was better to you than being nothing at all. you weren’t sure it was even possible to live in a world without wonbin anymore.

you were stubborn, calling everyone that criticised you natural haters, that they just weren’t as open minded to the complexities of relationships as you were.

they couldn’t see the way wonbin would spoil you rotten, your house filled with gifts that he got you. they didn’t see the expensive dates he took you on, or the bunch of flowers sitting on your windowsill that he always made sure to refresh.

if they caught the attention of park wonbin, they would understand you.

a man so hauntingly alluring, blessed with the beauty from deities above, with a face that wars were surely started over. comparable only to adonis, stealing the hearts of many that he encountered.

meeting him was like a dream, one that you did not want to wake up from. his long hair framed his facial features, dark clothes creating a contrast to his fair skin.

something ignited inside of you, a desire so strong that you were sure it was fate that he had walked into your life. after all you had endured, you were finally being rewarded, finally seeing the end of the tunnel.

all the hardships you had been through in your life became minuscule compared to the joy that wonbin brought.

he was different, always making sure you got home safely, draping his jacket over your legs whenever you wore a skirt that was a tad bit too short.

whenever you were struck with sorrow, he was someone you could find solace in, melting into his embrace as you breathed in his aroma.

park wonbin was your saviour. your reason to live, the reason why you believed that love maybe did exist after all.

he was the first male figure in your life to leave a positive impact, the first one who didn’t use or abuse you, and you were sure it was divine intervention.

the love you felt for him was intense, all consuming and powerful, like nothing could make it waver. your love for park wonbin would definitely stand the test of time.

he had to feel the same way about you. the deities were not cruel enough to give you someone so perfect without knowing if he loved you back.

that’s why you never felt the need to question things. you didn’t need to, it would be silly to question the intentions of the gods.

you instead spent your time enjoying wonbin in his entirety. every kiss, every embrace, it became the catalyst to the blood pumping around your whole body.

the opinions of others were irrelevant, after all what could they know? would they ever be able to experience a love as perfect as yours.

‘i’m dating ningning,’ he told you one night, head in his hands as he watched you busy yourself at the stove.

you froze in your spot for a second, wooden spoon still in hand as you turn to face him. surely it wasn’t true?

‘dating? with ning ning? what do you mean by this?’ you question him, closing the gap between you two, reaching up to play with his dark locks.

‘she’s my mothers family friend, they’ve been pestering me for so long about us being together and i just got tired of hearing it,’ his voice trails off at the end, leaning into your touch as he sighs.

‘do you love her?’ you ask as your fingers work their way through his hair, enjoying the way he leans against you.

‘of course not, don’t be silly,’ it provided you with enough comfort, to know that they didn’t have anything nearly as strong as the both of you.

‘then that’s good enough for me.’

so despite the objections from your friends, you continued to stay with wonbin, not paying much mind to the other girl; she wasn’t important.

he made sure that when it was only the two of you, nothing or no one would come in between it. and at the time it was enough to keep you content.

but slowly over the months, a part of you started to feel restless.

your meetings went from as frequently as three to four times a week to only once if you were lucky. like an addict you were suffering from withdrawals, and you weren’t sure how long you could wean off of the drug that was park wonbin.

‘i’ve been a little busy lately, you understand that right?’ was what he told you the first time you had gathered the courage to tell him

how you felt, twiddling with your thumbs as you looked down at your boots.

‘i know how you feel pretty, let me make it up to you today,’ his hand rest on your thigh, giving it a squeeze and a pat.

it was pathetic really, how a gesture as small as this was enough to absolve any sort of discontent you held against any of his actions. but that was what love was all about.

he would focus his whole attention on you, stopping wherever you wanted to go, taking you to eat at a fancy restaurant, buying you treats.

when he told you that you shouldn’t hold hands you knew it was just because he didn’t want others to know how good your relationship was. they may try to sabotage it.

that was why he didn’t introduce you to his friends ever. what if they tried to take you away from him?

wonbin never did any wrong, whatever he did had a plausible reason, and you had learnt a long time ago not to question things.

‘i’m having a game this weekend, you should come and watch,’ he told you as he parked in front of your house.

‘i would love to binnie,’ maybe he was finally ready to show you off to the world. to give a big middle finger to societal expectations and prove that what the both of you had was special.

he grinned, leaning over the console to give you a kiss, slow and passionate, and you felt your skin burn at the contact.

only he was capable of making you feel this way.

‘take care of yourself love, i’ll see you soon,’ he tells you as you leave the car, not driving away until the moment that you’re inside your house. always the gentleman.

it was an exciting moment in time for you, wonbin was personally inviting you to one of his games. you weren’t secretly watching at the back of the bleachers, he told you that he wanted you there.

the day couldn’t come any quicker, and you spent the remainder of the days thinking of what to wear, how to smell. would he like it if you had your hair up or down? you should dress light so he offers you his jacket at the end of the night.

and when the day finally dawned, you spent ample time in front of your vanity mirror, curling your hair, painting your face to perfection, making sure you looked the best you could. you wanted to look like someone wonbin could be proud of.

he wasn’t able to pick you up seeing as he needed to get to there early to warm up with the team, but he paid for an uber to pick you up, telling you to be vigilant of the persons car you were entering, and to make sure you were keeping him updated on his location.

his kindness knew no limits.

upon arrival, you were greeted with the low hum of chatter, with quite a large crowd beginning to fill the benches, and the sight of the basketball teams warming up on their respective sides of the court.

but like a moth to a flame, you were only drawn to one man, whose long hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, a few of the front pieces falling on his forehead.

you were in awe of him once again, your own physical manifestation of a greek god, and you were unable to quantify the extent to which it had an effect on you. he was like a higher being walking amongst mere mortals.

you take out your phone for the sole purpose of taking pictures, ones that you know you will be staring at later on in your moments of need.

when the game started it was hard to contain the excitement, and you may have left out a few screams of his name, but luckily for you it was drowned out by the loud thuds of the basketball hitting the ground, and the squeaking of the boys’ shoes on the newly polished floors.

then you heard it, someone else other for you cheering with such passion, and you whip around, curious as to who the owner of the voice was.

it’s ning ning. it was the first time seeing her up close, and truthfully, her beauty intimidated you.

she was undoubtedly stunning, her face structured to perfection, an air of elegance surrounding her.

she leans over the railing, cupping her hands around her mouth as she shouts his name again. this time he looks up, eyes scanning for the source of the noise before raising his hand and blowing a kiss.

but he meant for that to be sent towards you right? surely he knew you were not too far away, and it was his secret way of letting you know that he could see you.

it had to be.

after the game you were desperate to see him, to be wrapped in his arms as you gushed about how well he played, about how good he looked while playing.

you wanted to enjoy an evening with him, cuddled up on your couch as you basked in his presence for a little longer.

but to your disappointment ning ning beat you to it, running up to him first and peppering his face with kisses.

you frowned. she should know her place after all. you half expected wonbin to pull away in disgust, but you remembered he had to keep up appearances, so that explained why he held her face in his hands, like he would do to you, and returned the kisses.

the walk towards them was agonisingly slow, the sounds of his teammates and friends teasing and cheering at him were beginning to drown your ears, and all you needed was some reassurance from your lover.

clearing your throat, you stood awkwardly, the bag that he bought you in your grasp. turning towards you, an unreadable emotion flashed across his face before he introduced you.

just by name? no signs of affection, or illusion to the relationship between you two. it was plain, as if there was nothing to tell between you two. but you knew that wasn’t true.

you watched as he laced his fingers together with that girl.

‘we should go out to eat and celebrate the win,’ you think it was shotaro who suggested it, and everyone else nodded in agreement.

for the first time wonbin looks at you, waiting for your answer, and you immediately cave in, talking about how much you would love to.

following after them pathetically, the pattern on your skirt suddenly becoming so interesting, you try to calm yourself down.

he doesn’t love her, he told you this already. but why was she all over him?

at the restaurant it was overbearing. was this a test? was he being overly affectionate just so people wouldn’t suspect anything?

that had to be it. it was the only reasonable explanation for why he was behaving like he was.

so you tried your hardest to push it to the back of your mind, politely listening to his friend sungchan ramble on about something.

you swallowed and continued to swallow the lumps of food on your plate, knowing that wonbin hated when you wasted food.

you shovelled food into your mouth until your plate was clean and your stomach began to churn.

you sat in front of him, the lack of heed towards you making you feel queasy from restlessness, as you rose to your feet, excusing yourself to empty the contents of your stomach in the ladies bathroom.

when you had rose back to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you headed towards the sink, looking at the pitiful girl staring back at you.

wonbin wouldn’t find you attractive like this. taking your time to freshen yourself up, you let your mind focus on good things to calm down.

he still loved you. he wanted you to be here for a reason, so all you had to do was trust him.

‘i’m fine, as long as i’m with him,’ you repeated, until a smile crept onto your face and you deemed yourself ready to go back out.

when you returned, you were met with concerned faces, including wonbin’s and you felt your cheeks warm at the accomplishment.

in fact, his eyes remained on you for the rest of the time in the restaurant and even when he offered to take you home.

he dropped ning ning first and gave her a kiss over the console, like he did with you, and you willed yourself to look away.

when she left he patted the passenger seat and you eagerly climbed over to sit next to you.

‘are you okay my love?’ his voice was soft, tender, as he caressed your face.

you nodded, missing the way he felt after trying your hardest to behave. it would be unfair for you to push your own selfish needs on him, when you knew he was just doing what he needed to.

‘i want you,’ you mumbled, want taking over your being and all you could think about was him. you needed him.

‘i know love, you’ve been so patient today,’ he cooed, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

but it wasn’t enough for you. he wasn’t close enough. you wanted his touch to be engraved in your skin for life, for the part of your body that he touched to serve a constant reminder of the hands that had been there.

‘stay with me tonight. please,’ you pleaded, your thighs crossed over the other, biting your lip. he easily picked up on what you were really suggesting, his larger hand coming to rest on your upper thigh.

‘whatever my princess wants.’

it was a great struggle trying to be patient, one look at the side of his face, the way he looked so concentrated on the road, only needing one hand to spin the steering wheel, was just adding to your arousal.

as soon as he put the car in park, you were scrambling out of your seat, eager to be inside and feel all of him.

it was urgent, rushed, the way you both couldn’t wait to get back to the bedroom, flinging articles of clothing along the way as he kissed you.

he made love to you, prioritising your own needs over his own, telling you that you deserved it for being so patient today, for putting up with him.

he made you cum again and again, addicted to the noises you made, or how you clung onto him so hopelessly, like there was nothing else you could do.

you become obsessed with how he coaxes you through every orgasm, telling you how he needed more from you. not her, but you.

‘wonbin,’ you pant, voice barely over a whisper. he hovers over you, taking in the way your eyelashes are wet from tears, streaming down your cheeks.

he hums, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he dips his head down to place kisses on your neck, loving the way you squirm underneath him.

‘one more for me baby, i know you can do it.’

i-i i don’t think. fuck i don’t think i can,’ you gasp, your voice getting higher with each thrust, hands gripping your waist and your own hands shoot down his arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist to slow the momentum.

‘yes you can love, i know you can do it,’ he snakes one of his arms around your waist, shifting your position.

‘you’re my good girl.’

that’s why you allow him, even when you start to lose feeling in your legs, or even when your eyes begin to unfocus, unaware of your surroundings as your jaw slacks and your toe starts to cramp.

in a haze, you can hear the muffled sounds of wonbin saying something in the background, but nothing is registering as he continues to pound into you.

it’s all becoming too much, pleasure flooding your senses as you reach out for something to hold.

your eyes land on the star necklace around wonbin’s neck, conveniently swinging above you, almost hypnotising as it moves with each harsh thrust.

a raw moan rips through your throat, one that is so animalistic that you’re almost unsure of how such a noise could leave your lips.

pulling him closer by the cool metal, your finger twirls the chain once, and then twice, closing it in your fist.

you barely have enough strength to close the gap between you, high pitched noises leaving your mouth as you kiss him ferverently.

your body is hot to the touch, hair sticking to your forehead and your neck from all the sweat.

wonbin presses you further into the mattress, showing no signs of slowing down as you pathetically claw at his lower stomach, trying to push away from him.

‘i know angel, i know. feels good doesn’t it?’

you’re unable to answer, nodding dumbly.

he pins your hands to your side, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips, before lifting your thighs up until your ankles almost touched your ears.

your body began to shake, thrashing as you struggle to breathe.

‘you’re so pretty baby, so fucking pretty. all for me, you’re such a good girl,’ he praises you, and it makes you feel like everything is worth it.

‘i’m- i’m your pretty girl,’ you struggle to get the words out, letting out a soft moan as you feel one of his hands cup your face.

‘yes you are,’ his voice is so gentle, tears welling up in your eyes but you wipe them away so that they don’t take away from the sight of wonbin on top of you.

‘good girl, you’re about to cum aren’t you. i knew you had one more for me,’ his hand snakes down to your clit, rubbing steady circles with his thumb, and it takes everything within you to push away from him again.

‘fuck- i- i’m-‘ but you couldn’t finish your sentence, back arching as you let out a few broken moans, rocking against him as he fucks you through yet another orgasm.

it was so intense, your body going limp and your mind spinning as every thought floating around in your head disappears. you can see wonbin’s mouth moving, but nothing is registering.

‘i’m right here angel, there you go. breathe a little for me, just like that,’ he brings you back down to earth, gently tapping your face until you look up at him again.

you did so well, my angel. so perfect for me,” he says, kissing the top of your head and you whimper softly, feeling his praise and love surround you, sniffling in appreciation.

you lay back as you watch him look after you, cleaning you up, carrying you to the bathroom, making sure you got changed as he puts you to sleep under clean sheets.

you were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with park wonbin. you realised that you could no longer be satisfied with only having a part of him, you needed him wholly.

‘fuck. i love you,’ you mumble, like the pathetic person you are, wrapping your arms around him. wonbin grins and bites your lip before pulling you into a kiss.

he had you right where he wanted.

‘i love you too baby,’ he says, and like a fool you believe his words, unable to face the small voice in your head that tells you he might not mean it like you do.

you thought that day had sealed the deal. that it was confirmation of the escalation of your relationship.

but soon after it felt like you were only being driven further apart from him. calls were ignored, texts were answered far too late and you were barely able to see him.

he would get upset when you brought it up and you didn’t want to provoke him so you left it as it was.

maybe he was just stressed, it must only be a season. he would be back to normal in no time.

but soon it turned into two months, and then three, and there was an immense amount of pain suffered from his absence.

you sobbed till you were unable to breathe through your nose, your throat sore and a headache beginning to form.

you couldn’t function. you couldn’t eat, you were no longer focusing in classes and the thought of him kept you up most nights.

where had your lover gone?

you were unsure whether it was frustration or depression that prompted you, but you called and called, leaving message after message until he finally responded.

‘wonbin,’ you were relieved to see him finally pick up, just needing to hear his voice.

it was silent for a second, before you heard him sigh, ‘hi.’

the smile on your face drops. was he not happy to hear from you too?

‘are you free? can you come and see me,’ you’re afraid you might have disturbed him from something important.

‘i’ll come. see you soon,’ and before you could tell him how much you could love him the call was disconnected.

you found comfort in biting your nails, until the nail beds were raw and red, but none of that was your concern right now.

wonbin was over an hour later, flowers in hand and a smile on his face, and you convinced yourself that maybe everything was alright after all.

you both sat on the couch, watching a movie, but the overwhelming urge to say what was on your mind overpowered your reasoning and you paused what you were watching.

‘it was getting to the best bit, why did you stop it,’ he complained, pointing towards the now frozen frame.

‘i think we need to talk about us, about the direction we’re both going in. it really hurt me not hearing from you wonbin.’

he only scoffs, eyes still facing forward and you feel your heart sink.

‘do you need more flowers or something? what’s got you all emotional?’

‘wonbin can you please just listen to me when i speak, don’t dismiss how i feel,’ you hated the tone he was using to speak to you, almost like he was mocking you.

‘i’m not dismissing how you feel it’s just- it’s just kind of pointless talking about it baby,’ he pats your knee, trying to reach for the remote but you won’t let him have it.

‘why? why is talking about the future of our relationship pointless?’

his eyebrows furrow, eyes narrowing as he looks at you with genuine confusion. as if you were speaking a completely different language to him or something.

‘what relationship?’

you felt your heart shatter, tears flowing down your face rapidly as you blinked, looking at the face of your lover.

‘wonbin..’ your voice trails off, and you’re in disbelief. he doesn’t even realise you’re crying until a drop splashes onto the sleeve of his hoodie.

but instead of the way he would normally reassure you, pulling you into his arms and kissing all of your worries away, he just sighs.

‘there must have been a mistake somewhere down the line. maybe we should go our separate ways,’ he’s quick to rise off of the chair, already making his way through the apartment to get his things.

you feel a lump in your throat, unable to call out to him loud enough, so you shuffle behind him, hoping to catch him before he leaves.

‘i thought this would happen someday, no hard feelings baby,’ wonbin is too nonchalant for your liking. he barely seems fazed, pulling his jacket over his shoulder and stuffing his keys and his wallet into the pocket.

you tug on his sleeve, willing him to look at you so you could make sense of what was going on.

‘i- i don’t get it. is it something i said?’ your voice trembles, barely heard over the hum of the washing machine, and wonbin has to bend down by your hair to catch what you’re saying.

‘oh baby, i thought we were both on the same page. i have a girlfriend, of course me and you are not in a relationship.’

‘then- then what were we?’ your bottom lip finds solace tucked in between your teeth, chest rising and falling as you try not to heave in front of him.

‘i don’t know, do we really need to have labels in this day and age. but wasn’t it obvious that there was no possibility of us being together,’ word after word, minute after minute, your heart continues to thud in your chest, threatening to break through the enclosures of your pericardium.

had everything been a lie? the gifts, the dates, the kisses, they had to have meant something? how could he dismiss what you had so easily?

‘i’m not a cheater baby girl, how could i have two girlfriends,’ his thumb swipes over your damp cheeks, patting your face with his palm before he retreats.

‘i thought we loved each other?’ you whispered, placing your hand on top of his, pulling him closer just so could feel something again, anything to distract you from the mind numbing agony that was settling in.

‘i don’t. it’s not possible to love two people at once.’

it takes a few seconds for his sentence to register in your head, too focused on the thumping in your head and the ringing in your ears.

he loved her, not you. she was always his number one, not you. the one he really wanted to be with, the one his heart belonged to, was her.

was it because you were broken? were the cracks in your past beginning to show?

baby i don’t get it, what changed? when did you stop loving me?’

‘love? i never loved you.’

‘liar. are you telling me what we had between us was nothing. you must have felt it too, that what we had was special.’

‘what was special about what we had between us? it was nice of course, but it can never be more than that.’

‘what about me?’ your voice is broken, akin to the way your heart feels, clutching at your chest, looking for any sort of relief.

he opens his mouth to respond, but his phone rings and you see her name pop up on his phone, bile quickly rising to your throat.

you watch him answer with a smile, speaking to her with a sweet tone as he tells her he’s on the way, that he’s missed her and can’t wait to be with her.

it had to be a dream. he was yours. your man. your wonbin.

the sense of possessiveness and desire for exclusivity overtook you, but it harshly contrasted with the reality of your lover, eager to be in the arms of another.

the flowers, the gifts, all of the material things would be unable to fill the void caused by him, only leading to deeper feelings of sadness.

‘i have to go, i guess i’ll see you around,’ he barely spares a glance in your direction as he’s out of the door, leaving you all alone.

you can physically feel the pain, with sharp pains in your chest, as if your heart was personally trying to claw its way out, and you drop to your knees.

why were you being punished? it was cruel, the way the ones from above watched down over you, possibly rejoicing over your misery.

how much they must have laughed when you chalked everything up to love. it left a bitter taste in your mouth and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

perhaps this was your fate from the beginning, that the words that man said to you that day becoming prophecy.

‘you’ll never be loved.’

you felt an internal struggle, trying to face these conflicting emotions, which were starting to have a profound impact on your mental state.

the pain and emotional turmoil was juxtaposed to the devotion you felt towards him. despite the pain he had just caused you, the deep affection that had manifested over the year of your meeting was something that you felt was engraved on your heart.

it showed the complexities of human attraction, the internal struggle between what was logical and what the heart desired. you could never leave park wonbin.

that navigating the difficulties of loving someone who never seemed to be yours to begin with was something you would have to do.

you felt your existence being reduced to an accessory to him, someone who was easily replaceable, who had less of a value than you initially thought.

you would always be the girl on the side to him, a sad girl. after all, you were not his.

and some deep, twisted part of you didn’t mind, as long as you got to spend an extra night with him in your arms.

[foli-vora]

the sun will shine again

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: just a little self indulgent something I wrote for comfort when I needed it, but maybe it can be a little reassuring hug for someone here as well? If you're struggling, please reach out to your local helplines, friends, family, doctors, teachers, coworkers - you're worthy of your existence on this planet, and you're not alone ❤️

Word count: 2k

Warnings: heavy themes. Depression, thoughts of suicide and intent, mentions of a weapon (gun), Joel struggles with feelings but he gets the message across, Ellie is Ellie with a little needed comic relief, hurt & much needed comfort

You don't want it anymore. Any of it. You just want peace. You want to be able to wake without the lingering presence of something heavy weighing down on your heart, your soul. You want to be able to smile, and feel it curl on your lips knowing it's nothing but true, and it's not there hiding the ugly thoughts and feelings stirring in your mind. You just want to be happy.

Is that even possible? Does happiness even exist anymore? The world had been torn apart long ago - there is very little to smile for now. Maybe it wasn't worth the effort. Maybe this is all there is.

No.

No, this isn't all of it.

You're sure you feel happiness, even if it doesn't manage to make it across your features most of the time. You feel the tender warmth of it in your chest, the blissful ease of the never ending pressure threatening to crush you under its weight.

It happens now, despite the horrific events that seem to follow your footsteps. Ellie's a sweet thing. She hides it behind her stubbornness and sarcasm, but you spy a slight comfort building within her as time rolls on—a peace.

Joel mirrors it, and he fights it - God does he fight it. Of course you know why he keeps her at arms length, why he desperately fights to keep that void present, but lately, it's wavered. He smiles, laughs even. It's beautiful to witness. He deserves it all and so much more.

You on the other hand? The shadows have seemingly only grown outside of the QZ despite being free, creeping along and filling every vacant space in your mind. It's so damn heavy. Something's there, a presence that seems to know exactly when to strike with its poisonous words, and it's not long until a part of you starts to believe them.

You don't belong here. You don't deserve them. You don't deserve this. You should've died long ago. Why are you still here? They would be better off without you.

It's those thoughts that have you here now, staring numbly at the sun beginning to shine over the horizon with a weight in your hands. There's a harsh chill in the air that bites at your skin through your thick, tattered long sleeve, but you don't care. You won't be here when the snow eventually hits.

You had left your jacket draped over a sleeping Ellie, her cheeks and nose tinged pink from the low temperature. It wouldn't go to waste - she'll get a lot of use out of it. Your pack you'd left in its spot beside Joel's - he'll take whatever they need before they move off. You have nothing else of worth.

They'll be better off. You don't belong here. You don't belong anywhere. Everyone will be better off.

Your gaze drops to your hands where they cradle the handgun, the steel barrel now warm from your touch. You only have one bullet - you left the rest behind. You wouldn't need them, anyway. Joel'll get a use out of them. They'll both be safe.

Safer without you. Better without you.

So why can’t you do it? Why can’t you just get it over with? Why are you hesitating?

The last few months roll through your mind. Blurs of memories, of you and Joel, of you and Ellie, each one rolling through your mind and bringing that sweetly craved warmth back to your chest. You know why you’re hesitating.

It’s a battle between love and darkness, and you hate that the darkness is winning. You’re weak.

They deserve more than you.

“Watching the sunrise?"

The unexpected but familiar gravel has you jumping about a mile high out of your skin. Your head whips to where Joel is approaching quietly from behind, and you discreetly tuck the gun into the waistband of your jeans as you nod, forcing a strained curl of your lips.

"It's a nice view," he continues quietly, voice still roughened from the few hours of sleep he managed to get. "I wasn't expectin' you to be gone so long."

He had been resting when you left the little campsite, eyes closed and merely grunting in reply when you mentioned needing a bit of privacy. How long had it been since you left? How long had you been dragging your feet in carrying this shit out?

"I got distracted," you explain weakly, shifting slightly over on the unforgiving boulder you sit on so he can rest on it beside you, "sorry."

He notices your clear lack of jacket.

"You cold?"

"No," you lie.

He's watching you, studying you. You can feel it. You keep your eye on the horizon, taking in the pastel mix of blues and oranges stretching across the sky as the sun starts to rise further above the landscape in an effort to escape his scrutiny.

"You needin' these?"

Glancing towards him, you watch as he sticks his hand down the front pocket of his jeans before holding it out to you, noting the bullets rolling around his palm. Your bullets. There's something hanging in his gaze as it remains heavily fixed on you. Maybe a slight edge of suspicion? Challenge?

You don't manage to hold it long enough to find out.

"Uh, not that I know of. I think I'm good."

He makes a low noise of thought, "Alright. Well, why don't you let me check. Better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Joel—"

"Come on."

The cold's long seeped into your bones now. You weren't meant to take this long. Another thing you can't do right. Moving takes a small bit of effort, your fingers now numb as they struggle to keep a firm grip on the weapon and pass it over.

Joel swiftly pops open the cylinder once he has the gun in hand, taking a long, quiet moment to examine the one single bullet residing in there. His thumb briefly brushes over the top surface of it, before readying the other bullets in between the grasp of his fingers.

"Not gettin' far with only one," he comments dryly, nimbly filling the cylinder and then flicking it shut with a noticeable click.

He doesn't give it back to you.

Instead, he reaches behind his back and tucks the gun down the waistband of his jeans beside his own, before fixing his jacket above them. He sighs, a deep heave of breath that blows out from his lips with a wispy cloud that carries away with the breeze as he seems to lose himself in thought.

You say nothing. There's nothing for you to say.

"Don't you ever," he starts thickly, voice cutting suddenly through the quiet, "think about doin' that again, you hear me?"

"Do what?"

You feign ignorance.

Whether it's because you don't want to acknowledge your earlier thoughts, or Joel to know about any of it, you don't know. It's silly—he would've found you eventually anyway. Maybe you're just a coward and don't want to face the reality of what he would think of you.

"Don't play with me—not about this.”

An apology sits on your tongue, but it doesn't make it past your lips. You should've known better than to play him as the fool. Joel's anything but stupid. He probably saw through you the instant he laid eyes on you sitting in the cold morning light without a jacket.

“I don’t say it, and maybe I should start, but I can’t lose you,” he rasps, deep brown eyes falling away from your face to follow the soft swirls of the clouds, “I can’t. And I know that’s selfish of me to say, I know it’s not what I should say when you’re feelin’ like this, but—Jesus. Ellie wants you here, needs you here. I need you here, and I know you’re carryin’ a lot in that head of yours but—I just... I’m here for you, alright?”

“Joel—”

“Quiet.”

Your mouth snaps shut immediately.

“I know it’s a lot, and I know it hurts—believe me honey, I know it fuckin’ hurts, and you’re tired and the other side just seems so damn good… but it’s not. It’s not. You… you can’t do that. God, you just can’t.”

The wind chills the hot tears that spill down your cheeks until they feel like ice. He looks at you then, as if sensing the heart ache making wet paths along your skin.

You’re weak.

His hands are hot as they cradle your face carefully, roughened calloused palms covering your cheeks and soothing away the agony filled droplets with a quick brush of his thumbs.

You can’t help but turn into the touch, your own hands coming to wind around his wrists in an effort to keep him close. He’s so warm. You let out the lungful of oxygen you’d been holding onto in your worry, watching the fog of it hang between your faces before fading away.

“I don’t know what to do, Joel,” you admit in a choked whisper, eyes dropping from something close to shame, “My head… I-I don’t know how to fix this—”

His hands press tighter against your cheeks as he angles and holds your face until your eyes are flicking up to meet his. Sincerity fills them, mixing with the ever present concern he hides behind those high almost impenetrable walls. It’s hard to focus on anything but him.

“It’s gonna take time, and it’s gonna be damn hard, but I want you to put it on me, understand? Put it all on me. I’ll carry what you’re strugglin’ with, alright? Hell, I’ll carry you. For as long as I need to. For the rest of my—fuck. Just—just let me help you. Please.”

He wants to do that? For you?

“What if it’s too much?”

“Then we’ll handle it together, like we’ve handled shit hundreds of times before.”

A few more moments of searching his eyes and you’re breathing a quiet okay. The heaviness still rests unforgivingly on your mind, but maybe you won’t struggle so much if someone was there to help you carry the load. Maybe, with time, it would get lighter.

That’s what you could fight for—the days where it won’t hold you down, and threaten to break you completely. The days where, maybe, it won’t be there anymore. Is that even a possibility? It doesn’t matter, you think you’re willing to find out.

His own eyes flicker between yours when your voice reaches his ears, before he gives a slight, barley there nod. His throat bobs with a swallow and then he’s resting his forehead against yours in apparent relief, lashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes flutter closed.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t ever need to be.”

“I fucking knew you guys were a thing.”

Ellie’s voice suddenly picks up from the tree line, her heavy feet trudging through the dense forest floor with the crunch of leaves and the snap of branches. Joel’s hands drop as he pulls away with a slight frown, levelling it on the girl making her way over, but it doesn’t seem to deter her in the slightest.

Despite missing the physical reassurance from Joel, you welcome the change Ellie unknowingly brings to the heavy atmosphere. You even manage a small smile, and it doesn’t feel strange as it stretches along your lips. There it is again—that lovely warmth from within you.

This is it. This is what you want, what you have. It’s just buried most of the time, but—but it’s definitely there. You weren’t imagining it. It’s there.

You’ll fight for it. You’ll fight for her, for Joel. You’ll fight for your peace.

“You didn’t need to hide it for so long—I’m not fucking stupid. I appreciate the jacket, by the way, but I don’t need you turning into an ice block on me,” she says, dumping your warm jacket over your shoulders before moving to your side and looking out towards the sunrise. “Holy shit, look at that view.”

[xo-cod]

Holy Hell! Don’t leave us on a cliffhanger please?!

How did the 141 boys react when they got the call that she had been shot? How did they catch the guy who did it? And what are they going to do to him? 😈

continued from here

disclaimer: because they are what they are (highly trained assassins 🫣), heavy mentions of stabbings and beatings, proceed with caution lmfao ‼️ rushed/ooc

"we can go all night, when you give out from exhaustion and pain. when you're begging us to kill you, when you're cryin to end your life, we're gonna be here" pulling off the bag from his face, ghost examined his features. the man winced and grimaced, gasping a little as the light flooded his vision and finally looking at his captor. standing tall at 6'4, bigger than most men ghost was certainly not someone to be trifled with. his brown eyes hardened behind his skull balaclava, twirled a knife expertly between his fingers

ghost had no sympathy for the person in front of him, he had been hunting you down for days and very nearly coming close in succeeding in his given task. all he could remember is what soap had said,"one centimeter over and it would've torn right through her heart" and it only served to further anger him when he knew you didn't have any bad intentions at all, you weren't there to hurt anyone. you only thought it was an innocent date and you have paid the price for it at a grave cost. the thought of losing you tonight only fuelled his anger, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes remained on the man

rules were rules, threatening the 141 was punishable by death. and simon had never been so glad for it

"listen i'm sorry man, i didn't know" the man tried to justify to which ghost scoffed, cold brown eyes glancing at the sharp array of weapons on the table opposite.

"choose a better excuse, that one is overused" his chest vibrates with dark chuckles and it causes the tension in the air to suffocate, this wasn't an amused laugh. this had brought on fear and pain and ghost hadn't even inflicted anything yet. still the man's determined attitude hadn't wavered, much to simon's displeasure.

"fuck you" the man hissed and then cried out in pain when a whip slapped his abdomen, undoubtedly leaving a trail of blood in its wake. his head was yanked back as ghost grabbed a fistful of hair, his face in close proximity of the other

"listen close you bastard, i've dealt with my fair share of bloody narcissists. but you hurt y/n, you shot her. so take your bloody time i'll get what i want from you, one way or another" ghost snarled, the tip of his sharpened knife trailing down her neck circling around the man's abdomen. he screamed when the knife was twisted into the first layer of skin, gaping down to where the blood was beginning to pool on his lap.

"now all you gotta do is give me a name. and this stops right here. but if not..." ghost pushed the knife a little more deeper into the body, grinning under his mask when the man whimpered trying so hard to not scream. to try keep his composture not wanting to bring any satisfaction to the enemy

but hell, it was hanging by a small thread at this point.

"any progress?" a deeper, gravelly voice cuts in and both heads look towards the door. the man lets a small gasp as the rest of the team pile into the room. it was as if they commanded respect, demanded to be listened to. their muscles straining against their shirt, scars littering their bodies proof of the business they were, of the lives they led

"he's stubborn" ghost stops, wiping the few drops of blood from his mask. he was getting rather irritated, wanting to be at the hospital with you but forced to take care of this problem.

"he's looking worse for the wear" soap chuckled but there was no humour in his voice. all he could think about was how fragile you looked after being shot and it made him want to tear into the man but gaz and ghost would hold him back, they already were eyeing him carefully. still it was rather amusing how many people tried to kill them and yet they always seemed to be on the receiving end of the blade.

"why not kill 'im, the poor bastard" soap scoffed with sarcasm, looking at the man with pure anger, his fists clenching as he sized the man up. desperately wanting to be the one to plunge the knife so deep into his heart and watch the life fade away from his eyes. just as he had done with you

"as convenient as that sounds, we'll never end up getting our information if he's dead" gaz leans back on the table, looking at the purple and blue blotches on the man's skin. the way his hair was matted down with blood and sweat, how he looked on the verge of passing out at any given moment. they'd bring him back alive though, none of their enemies ever did have a quick painless death here. ghost had a knack for making his prisoners suffer until they physically and mentally couldn't take anymore, testing each and every brutal limit in their weak bodies. it was only a matter of time until he spilled the dark secret.

but time was not on their side.

"y-you bastards, go to hell" his voice fluctuated angrily as he tried to keep his heartbeat normal, to keep those nerves at bay. to remember his training as a soldier but these men were different, for every step he took they already knew about. he was at their mercy this time.

placing a hand deep within his pocket, the captain of the team entered the room a pensive look painted upon his features. he shifted his bucket hat, looking down at their little victim tied up to the chair as his head tilted a little.

"we're all tired from your little reign of heroism, thinking you're doing well by serving your country and your organisation. for now, you'd do well to remember we're the ones who determine whether you walk out of this building alive. i suggest you start by giving us some answers. you see, myself..." price grabbed the knife from ghost's hand in a quick flash and plunged it straight into the muscle of the man's thigh, completely unfazed at his screams and the splatter of blood coating his cargos

"well, i am not a particularly patient man"

[xerotiny99]

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day // Our precious #6

The Lewd Rituals of a Typical Day. (Our precious #6)

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Pairing: main - Park Seonghwa x Reader. Side - Reader x Jeong Yunho, Reader x Kang Yeosang

Warning (for all parts): smut, hardcore smut, soft dom!seonghwa, dom!yunho, dom master!yeosang, sub!reader/slave!reader, breast stimulation, teasing, biting and marking, DD/LG, seonghwa has a feeding kink (does not overlap with fat fetish), praise kink, food play, unprotected sex, fingering, cock warming, thigh riding, nipple play, bits of master-slave dynamic, rough sex, manhandling, cum play/cum shot, dirty talk/degradation (just know yunho has a filthy mouth), size training (vaginal), etc.

Note: do not proceed if you're uncomfortable or triggered by any aforementioned tags. Feeding kink/feedism can be triggering for some people, if that's the case, please do not engage or skip over the beginning parts. I apologise, I had no ill intentions with this. To avoid boredom, this time i decided to divide this chapter into four parts, each part with each pair. Not proofread.

Gist: it's the weekend and you finally get the time to spend it with your so called "boyfriends".

Total Word Count: n/a

Part One [6.1]: Feed Me Please, Daddy - Park Seonghwa x Reader.

Word Count: 13,354

Song Rec: In The Trees by Stalgia

Taglist: @t3kandson @therealcuppicake @sebastianswhore13

 Reliving some moments can be detrimental, some can be joyous, while some can be a mix of both. You weren't sure where exactly you were leaning to in this particular moment. Or maybe, your approach was more of a two-fold interpretation than concluding all at once. Staring into the deep brown eyes of the person you were least likely to be interested in, was a moment of deja vu you resented living in, despising every passing second of it. In the much steeper part of your stomach, you were starting to sense the underlying distraught creeping up your gut. As one might wonder why you'd be so invested in this particular case, but to your own acknowledgment, you knew you were being stubborn.

There was no way you were backing down from this; you couldn't look away either, not when he's been waiting on the chance to watch you lose. In sullen silence which pertains the more you hold onto your stupidity, you have yourself comfortably perched on the kitchen counter while the subtle sounds coming from the balcony fill up any unnecessary noise between you two. Mingi was at it again, not once wavering in his motive to make you feel small with his broad shoulders or his bulging bare arms as he held them across his chest. A deleterious glint sits in his eyes. He stood at a distance from you, studying the curves of your body and how it was capable of fitting in the space on the kitchen counter next to the stove. You, on the other hand, are trying to condole with your hammering heart; it was no surprise, even to yourself, to know you were attracted to Mingi. If you got the chance, you'd pounce upon him and act out all the fantasies you deliberately hide from everyone. If only Mingi was allied to you the way others were. Sadly, that's not how it worked, did it?

A few hours after the break of dawn, and you're forced to have a ruthless encounter with him. Mingi had just woken up, judging from his bed hair and the way it was tousled, besides he was still dressed in his night clothes. The white tank top which hugged his body like a second skin had an assortment of stains on them. Some prominent, some faded; they were probably stains from food. Though, you were deeply infatuated with Mingi's personality, you equally reviled it too. If not, your somber morning would've never been blighted by his rueful gaze or his inanely gracious satire. You'd be a fool to think you'd have a normal morning for once; waking up to Seonghwa's voice was the ultimate rapture of your significant morning, and then he had asked to you meet him in the kitchen so he could prepare breakfast for you before everyone's awake. And to your satisfaction, everyone slept-in on a Saturday. Obviously.

Really, you'd be a fool to pass on that opportunity. Groggy with sleep, you somehow managed to drag yourself out of the nimble futon you slept on, brushed your teeth and carried yourself to the kitchen. The nifty oversized shirt on your body, the one which you had borrowed from Jongho last night, clung too close to you to expose your curves and godly figure; seamlessly you had booty shorts under your shirt, which had no point in wearing because the shirt covered most of your skin till your mid thighs. When you were ushered into the kitchen by the heavenly scent of coffee and your own enthusiasm, Seonghwa had been sipping on his morning coffee, his favourite mug in his hand and a doleful haze of sunshine in his eyes; everything was wonderful when alongside Seonghwa, you had your morning coffee too and engaged yourself in a fatuous conversation with him. Until Mingi walked in, half-asleep and Seonghwa excused himself to the balcony to get himself some freshly harvested coriander for the breakfast he had planned ahead. You had just gotten comfortable on the counter, as on Seonghwa's suggestion who thought it'd be a great idea for you to watch him cook.

So, now you're here. Waiting on Mingi's derisive comment to wrung you out like one would do to their wet towel. All this could've been avoided if Mingi hadn't woken up to get himself a bottle of water, or if you had just let it go after your eyes met with him.

"I don't remember the last time I had walked into the kitchen, and you weren't there," Mingi spits, spitefully enough to let his tone prick you like a thorn. "But you know, what? It'd be more surprising if you were actually useful in here."

"Man, you're really obsessed with me, aren't you?" you scoff, swinging your legs off the counter and landing on your feet. "I must be taking up every fraction of your mind, for you to come up with useless remakes and snarks."

"Aww, don't flatter yourself." Mingi smirks, "it's sad you think of me as one of your playthings to be infatuated with you and whatever that is you offer. Quit dreaming, princess. I will never bend to your words or whatever tricks you have up your sleeve."

"You seem very confident about—"

"You two are at it again?" Seonghwa groans, walking in the kitchen with his hands occupied, "how many times have I told you to not bother yourself with him, Angel? Some people aren't worth our attention." He sets the pair of scissors and a bunch of coriander, which he had freshly cut from his thriving garden in the balcony, on the counter and glances at Mingi, "and you, can't you let your differences go? You don't like her, we get it. But that does not validate your curt attitude towards her."

Heaving a sigh, he turns around and faces you, a smile already lilting on his lips, "look, I just want to have my breakfast in peace. You want to argue, bite each other's necks off, or borderline kill each other, do it in your own leisure time. My only request is, please let me eat in concord of my mind."

Mingi couldn't help but scoff, "you know, this would've never happened if you all hadn't allowed her to live with us."

You take offence in what he has to say, but don't voice it out as you usually would; Mingi and you had a bone to pick, you two could never get along no matter what. Though, listening to Mingi sometimes would leave your heart broken. In much simpler way of eluding, Mingi's resentment towards you was a blow to this ornate mirror you would view yourself in, and his words were the scattered pieces of glass ready to plunge deep in your heart. Whiling in the same momentary haze, you're dwelling unreasonably over his injudicious words again. It wouldn't come off as a surprise to anyone but being pampered and taken care of by the seven men in the house, Mingi's hostility always marred your pleasant disposition.

"Mingi," Seonghwa mutters, his tone threatening, "you're crossing the line here."

"Am I? Am I really crossing the line here, Seonghwa?" Mingi mumbles, posing it as a question onto Seonghwa. "I never had a say in this arrangement, yet I respected your decisions and went along with it. Maybe, I shouldn't detest her for what you've done. I should resent you all."

As his words falter to a mere whisper, Mingi shakes his head and turns around; but before he could leave either of you stranded, he glances over his shoulder and adds, "I'll go live with Lani for a couple of weeks. You guys can get comfortable, you know, I won't be around to make you guys awkward..."

With that, he leaves. His silhouette dithers to the morning sun flooding in through the balcony doors. Mingi had gone and you were seemingly, more heartbroken than ever. Your stomach lurches into your chest, your heart slowly regressing in its palpitations; Seonghwa clicks his tongue and places one of his hands on your thigh. Comforting warmth engulfs your disturbed mind and you're pulled out of your despondency. When you turn your head, you find Seonghwa's smile growing further into his cheeks and his eyes disappearing in crinkles.

"Don't you worry about him," he says, "he'll get around. I'll have Yunho talk to him. Unless they're both on bad terms with each other."

"What?" you mutter under your breath, tracing your hand along his to intertwine your fingers together. "I don't let his words bother me, seriously. You shouldn't trouble yourself with this. Or, even Yunho."

Seonghwa chuckles, "compared to me, Yunho would've taken a much violent approach if he had heard what and how Mingi spoke to you. I'm just saying, he wouldn't have been as tolerant as me." He clears his throat and lets his smile fall to line, "and whether you are bothered by him or not, it's no way for a man to treat you like that. Mingi is one of us, and we wouldn't be setting much of an impression on you if we let him get away with these things. Like I said, don't let his words get to you, he's a better man under all the facade of arrogance and revulsion."

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Seonghwa steps and untangles your hands; he stands in front of the stove and smiles at you. "Let's forget about him, alright. I know you're feeling down, so, what do you want to eat?"

"I thought you were making me fried rice from yesterday's leftovers," you wiggle your legs dangling off the counter and let your lips curl, "I'm not a picky eater. You can cook whatever you want."

"There's no harm in asking my lady, is there?" he muses, offering you wink before grabbing the bunch of coriander he had brought from the balcony.

"Who would've thought you tended a garden in the balcony."

He chortles, "not many know of it, sure. However, it doesn't take a genius to plant some coriander."

"Hey, it still keeps you in touch with your nurturing psyche," you pout, swinging your legs at a steady pace, "after all you're the guy who takes care of six kids in this household."

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and lets his lips curve instead; he shakes his head, studying your clement eyes with his before he brushes it off. The avid affection in his eyes could've misread yours. He doesn't want to believe what he interpreted, but he knows you were being grateful to him. As the conspicuous moments cling to either of your speechlessness, Seonghwa clears his throat, and steps away from the counter.

"Seven kids, sweetheart. What, did you forget to count yourself?" he whispers lowly, "but you're not wrong, gardening has helped me get over many slumps in my life. And to be fair, any guy, stuck in my situation, would've done what I'm doing. Let's not romanticise what I do."

You are weirdly confounded by his modesty; allured in some delightful sense, you can't seem to get your eyes off of him. Seonghwa had his back faced to you while he rummaged through the refrigerator. Dainty crinkles of polythene bags and containers reverberate till they're softened by your own, an airy voice calling out to him.

"Are you sure?" you muse, "because I've seen you take on countless responsibilities. You somehow manage to balance your work life and still have time for the things you love doing vis-a-vis your gardening hobby. So, yeah. You're pretty much like a superhero."

"Anyone could do that, Angel. Come on." His humility is endearing, but you couldn't understand why he was dodging your compliments. With his head still buried in refrigerator, he continues, "if we're talking about parenthood, then I believe Hongjoong deserves some credit for keeping us all together."

You let out a soft giggle before leaning back on the counter, propping your hands on either side of you and gently oscillating yourself back and forth.

"You two have your roles predestined for this household, don't you? You're doing a great job, seriously. Just take the compliments and don't backhand them," you lick your lower lip, adoring the view in front of you. Seonghwa hums as a response because he knew there was no winning against you, while you suck on your teeth, "this is totally off topic, but damn, I might have one of the bestest views in front of me right now."

There was no lie in your testimony; you were indeed revelling in the perfect view of Seonghwa's rear raised in the air as he leaned over to rummage through the refrigerator. Sweatpants hang loose on his waist, accentuating more of his curves and his ass. It'd be a lot shameful to admit you were ogling at him, then ever denying you felt yourself losing to your demarcated eroticism.

"Oh really, my little girl likes what's in front of her? Adorable," he remarks, pulling himself out of the open doors of the refrigerator, "sad, all you can do is watch and drool. We both know who's incharge here, right?"

You watch him holding a few bags of veggies; though it wasn't feasible for your mind to come up with something this early in the morning, you still manage to go along the inner voices. A spark of tease takes over your mind when the oxytocin in your body passes its threshold.

"You are," you bring your voice down a few baritones and lace it with seduction, "daddy."

As a blur of sinful hope crosses his eyes, Seonghwa's face shrouds with utmost impropriety when he prances across the very little distance between you and the refrigerator. Carelessly, he lets go the bags in his hands and they land on the counter with a placid crinkle, soon submerging into your gasp; Seonghwa forces you to spread your thighs apart while you sat still on the counter. His hands sear their touch on your skin, pushing your legs further apart for him to slot his body perfectly against yours. The tender caresses of his fingers, running in circles on your skin, under your shirt, start trickling your spine with shivers. On your amiable instinct, you're quick to wrap your arms around his neck and shoulders, supporting your body as he pulls you into his body. He kept you upright while you were almost suspended off the edge of the counter.

"Be careful with that word, sweetheart." Seonghwa warns, tracing his lips in almost like a trail of wispy kisses to your ear; he licks up the shell of your ear before biting down on the earlobe. "You throw it around too much, and I might not be able to tame myself."

Your throat runs dry, once having discerned the softer but grimy undertones of carnality in his voice. In the wrinkle of a second, you wind your legs around his waist and push your hips into his lower abdomen. His flimsy shirt rides up with your movement to have you peek on his toned abdomen, and a cute little belly button. Seonghwa's dainty fingers crawl down to the hem of your shirt, pushing it over to expose your bare chest.

"I wouldn't mind you losing yourself to me, daddy." You slur your words, tilting your head to a side when you find him staring at you.

"You're playing with fire, sweetheart," smirking, he whispers and lets his hands drag up your sides, till they're cupping your tits, "aren't you scared you might burn yourself?"

A breath hitches in your throat, mind fogging with absolute darkness when his warmth is groping your tits like that; you let out a soft whimper, your eyes fluttering close and your lips parting in a mere attempt to get your words out. Nothing came out of your mouth, not even an utter; you were too engrossed in his touches and warmth, the one which slipped away from you after teasing and tugging at your taut nipples. You were sensitive to touch, and it had only been brought to your attention during your make out session with Jongho last night.

"Hmm, you're...responsive," Seonghwa mumbles and pulls back, letting your shirt drape your body fully before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "We'll continue this after breakfast, hmm? I am really hungry right now. Hungry for food."

Tangled limbs become free as he pushes himself away from you; you weren't fond of the coldness which slipped in between too immediately after, but you couldn't complain either way. Seonghwa ties his apron around his waist and bends over to grab a chopping board from the cabinets below the stove.

He sets it on the counter before smiling at you, "I could use your help. Why don't you wash the vegetables and I'll chop them?"

"Sure."

It came off as a suggestion than request, the one you couldn't quite resist. You hop off the counter, gently tugging on your shirt before standing next to him; Seonghwa unwraps his selection of veggies from their respective polythene bags and places them on the counter. You share a glance with him, and a smile curls your lips. Soon, you two are drowning out every superficial thought in your head, lost in a void of affection while your eyes never once wavered from each other. He almost leant in, lips puckered and eyes half-lidded, you were prepared for whatever that was going to happen, anticipation breaking at the seams. Warmth of his breath fans your cheeks and then your lips, before it melts into your skin; his lips are delicate with yours, brushing softly till it turns to a passionate kiss. Seonghwa winces softly when he forces himself away from you, breaking the kiss in that moment.

"If we carry on like this, there's no way I'd finish preparing breakfast for nine people."

"Then maybe you should learn how to control yourself," you joke, bumping your hips into his, as playfully as you could, "come on, we've got a lot of time after breakfast to do whatever your heart desires to do now."

"Duly noted, ma'am."

Cooking with Seonghwa was fun, endearing even. You two spent the time laughing and talking around, making harmless jokes about the others who were somehow still not awoken to your chaos. There wasn't a lot to talk about any way, so you settled on asking him questions about Mingi and his relationship. At first Seonghwa hesitated in his head to answer your doubts, but soon enough he was opening up and spilling everything. Mingi and Lani, his girlfriend, have been on and off from the freshman year; the two met in their department and have known each other since then. Lani is a ballet major and according to Seonghwa's first impression of her, she's a pretty woman with an ugly heart and soul. She had been stringing Mingi along to her tricks, taking advantage of his good persona and also his wealth. Yep, if you hadn't known it before, Mingi, similar to Jongho, belonged to a well-heeled family.

"Mingi's too much of a kind heart to see through her lies and chicaneries," Seonghwa scoffs, continuing to sauté the vegetables, he glances at you and shrugs his shoulders lightly, "we've all tried our hardest to get him out of the illusions she's weaved around him; so far, we've only offended him with our stupid trials."

"You told me not to be bothered by him, on the contrary you yourself are troubled—"

"—there's always some sort of hypocrisy hidden in my words, sweetheart," his laugh interrupts you, "time heals, doesn't it?" As he sighs, he fixates himself on the pan of sizzling of vegetables, "I'm just hoping he realises his worth and knows what he deserves."

"He will, I'm a firm believer of that."

You hum and lean back into the counter, stretching out your upper body and legs to destress yourself; the sublime morning dawned over, spilling with golden cast and untimely bloom of chirping birds. It had been approximately fifteen minutes since Seonghwa and you had taken on the venture of cooking egg fried rice for everyone, almost done with finishing with the task at hand. Amid the silence of all, where only the occasional sears of vegetables and oil resounds, your stomach growls and all hell breaks loose.

Seonghwa bites back on a laugh and looks at you, "if you're that eager, there's an assortment of cut fruit in the fridge. Help yourself to it." He redirects your attention by pointing the spatula in his hand towards the refrigerator, "I'll be done in ten more minutes. You can have a light snack till then. And do you want me to brew you some green tea with the rice?"

You're already a few steps ahead, already by the refrigerator, "I'm fine. I'll just have some orange juice instead."

Opening the door of the refrigerator, you shuffle around with the various takeout containers and a box leftover pizza from last night. Along some saran-wrapped plates of Wooyoung's experimented recipes, you find the colourful bowl of cut fruits, which also happened to be covered by a large sheet of saran-wrap. The gelid ceramic bowl fits snug in the palm of your hands when you bring it out to the dining table; sitting down on your designated chair, you put the bowl on the table and flick the wrap from it. Your place at the dining table had been preordained by the others, you were given the seat between Yunho and San, while the others sat in their usual chairs. There was one chair, centrally placed along the width of the table, claimed by Hongjoong. And the others would then sit around him; it started with Hongjoong, and clockwise to him, it went, Seonghwa, Jongho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, San, you and Yunho.

As it was only the two of you this morning, you decided to settle down on the first chair you see; which happened to be where Seonghwa sat. Aimlessly, you let your hand dive in the bowl to pinch out a piece of peach, the first bite is juicy, tangy and sweet, forcing you to reminisce on your bittersweet encounter with Mingi. You're in a dour state of your mind again, forced to have mindless notions, if there could ever be a time where you and Mingi would get along just fine. Lost in your heady wonders, you blindly pick out another piece, a piece of melon and put in your mouth; juices trickle, splashing on your chin and rolling further down your neck. Chewing through it, you're still immersed in the intangible truth of your downtrodden relationship with Mingi. You munch and chew, without having the knowledge that you had nearly finished all the fruit in bowl, and how sticky your chin was from all the fruit juices.

Louder your thoughts are, the more unaware you become of footsteps ascending out of the kitchen. You're snapped into reality by a certain weight lingering on your shoulder. When you raise your head up, you're stricken with Seonghwa's beaming smile and his amused eyes.

"Angel to earth," he muses, "what are you thinking of?"

You shake your head, lips quivering, "nothing really."

Seonghwa doesn't believe you, yet he nods his head and places the plates on the table which had been carrying in his other hand. Slipping his hand from your shoulder and sliding it across the back of your chair, he leans over and traces his other hand along your chin; fingers collect the remnant of fruit juices from your chin before his thumb swipes just under your lower lip. You watch him, flustered and confused, mouth agape, seemingly out of the daze, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and lets his tongue dart out. He licks up the length of his forefinger, fluttering his eyes close before humming in satisfaction. When his eyes open to your soft whimper, he continues to lap his tongue around his thumb; sucking on it, he brings it out with a pop and smirks lightly at you.

"Sweet," he whispers, leaning further to reduce whatever distance that was between you two. His lips hover on yours, ghosting their soft brushes till he mumbles, "you're not a good liar, sweetheart."

"I-I really wasn't—I wasn't thinking of anything," you stutter, jerking up your shoulders and taking a deep breath to keep yourself composed.

On the brink of letting your lips touch, you're at loss for words and thoughts; the close proximity muddles with your brain in ways you couldn't quite comprehend. Not when Seonghwa's hand had slithered its way on the nape of your neck from the chair. His delicate grasp pulls you in, your lips touching in some sort of fervent delight, till you're lurching and leaping, tilting your head to augment the desires palpating in both of your hearts. He cups your face instead, using the warmth of both of his palms. One of his thumbs presses against your cheekbone and you wince, fumbling with your own hands to wrap them around his shoulders.

This kiss drags on for long as it could, minutes murmuring to nothing more. Seonghwa's mind is left craving for more when he tastes the sweetness of fruit on your tongue and lips, when his own had been exploring the hot crooks of your mouth. You let him do as he pleased to, eager for his tongue to explore and taunt your own, to let both of them rub and wrestle together. Until, you're past the threshold of your contentment. A concept frozen in time, bounded by nothing till you're both breathless, chasing for the breath of air you needed to appease the burn in your chest. Seonghwa breaks the kiss, rupturing the rhythm of your lips; he rests his forehead against yours, his warm and ragged breath thrashing against your cheeks.

"Something has to be wrong with me today," he frets his words with the air he inhales, "I can't seem to let go of you, neither can I rid my heart of this devout yearning to taste you on my tongue. What have you done to me, my darling?" He chuckles in the raspy and breathless state of his, "do you not want me to stay sane?"

"I'm—I'm doing nothing," you respond, words hitching in your throat and heart pounding on the walls of your chest, "you were the one who kissed me."

"I am aware," he adds, whirling his tone with a deep laugh, "couldn't help myself when I saw you sitting here, lips and face glistening with the juices. You wouldn't know how tempting you were, how fucking beautiful it was for a man like me, to find you—" he chuckles in your face, "—every bit of you is so fucking precious, sweetheart. No doubt I lack self-restraint when I'm with you."

One of his hands on your cheeks, falls to grab your chin in his fingers' subtle grip, he pushes his thumb under your lower lip and forces you to open your mouth.

"This mouth had done some wonders back then," he mutters, "do you remember that night, Angel? When I had fucked this pretty little mouth of yours..."

You nod.

"Such a good little girl," he rasps, drunkenly, "such a good girl to remember the time I had wrecked her throat. Hmm, fucking perfect."

And you're rendered speechless; it's very unlikely for you to be so horny in the morning, let alone, your day had just started, and you were already dripping through your shorts. Swallowing thickly, your throat wobbles with you having no words to voice them out; instead, Seonghwa steps back, begrudging to himself as he straightens up and stares down at you.

"I know what you're thinking of," he muses, "and I've got something for you regarding it. Don't worry, sweetheart, all your desires will be quenched; let's just eat first, okay?"

Again, you're only sane enough to nod your head vigorously. Biting on your lower lip, your mind goes astray, the reminisces of the said night flooding your conscience with zeal and ecstasy; only recalling the vague memoirs that night left you with, had tipped you past your edge, urging your arousal to soak your shorts and causing more to seep out. Seonghwa's muted whistle howls in your ears when he's placing the pot of cooked rice on the table. While you're still disoriented from the remembrances of your game night with him and Yunho, Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on one of the chairs and pats his lap, hoping you'd take on the little hint. You obviously did not need to be told twice. Scampering off your feet, you're quick to fit yourself in his lap. You prop your legs across his, leaning your body onto his chest while resting your head on his shoulder. Mumbling out an incoherent sound, Seonghwa wraps his arms around your waist and presses a soft kiss against your forehead.

"How are we supposed to eat if you're going to..." he says, suggestive enough for you to sit a bit straighter, "you know, you can get needy at times. A lot."

Plucked by a sense of curiosity, you compose your posture and wrap your arms around his neck. Seonghwa's lips curl with the utmost bewilderment, while your brows squeeze together in the centre of your forehead; he shakes his head, fathoming your deliberate gestures. He pinches your chin, thumb pressing into your bone for your lower lip to tug out.

"I'm not complaining, it's adorable." He adds in a wispy voice, "really fucking adorable when daddy's little girl gets to bat her lashes at him and he falls head first into her trap."

You smirk, squirming on his lap before leaning over to whisper in his ear, "isn't daddy all talk and no show?"

"Daddy doesn't want to hurt his baby," he mutters, tracing one of his hands along your back to your neck. Though, losing his grasp on his own tongue, he lets out a chuckle and looks away from you, "bless my soul, I thought I'd be able to keep a straight face through this vulgar oration, but turns out I can't really utter anything without absolutely cringing my spine."

"Why not?" you laugh along him, as his eyes are back on you, twinkling with unsaid words, "I believe, you said it was a part of your "kinks" and preferences."

He shrugs, slightly shifting you on his lap, "it is; however I don't want our fellow readers to crawl out of their skin listening to me exaggerate..."

You peck his lips and shut him up, "I bet the readers like it. So, don't you worry about it."

"The main concern should be, do you like it?" he rasps, his voice husky, "it's important to know if you're comfortable or not."

You brush your lips against his, "it might take me some time to get used to it. Not a lot of guys I had been with, dabbled in this kink, you know."

"Lot of guys?" he instigates, his lips curling into his cheek, revealing his canines, "how many guys have you been with before us?"

"I never asked you how many women you've been with before me," you drawl, jutting your lower lip out, "why do you care, anyway?"

Sliding his hand further up your neck, he entangles his fingers in your hair and pulls you with it; you arch your head back, succumbing to his strength and chuckling softly before he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He traces pleasant kisses on your skin, eventually letting his tongue dart over to lick and suck, eliciting pretty sounds from your mouth.

He murmurs his words, letting them collide with your skin, "fine. I'll tell you everything. Would you like that?"

His hand which had stayed around your waist, tightens and using your body to have some leverage, he bucks his hips into yours. The thin material of his sweatpants wasn't enough to let the impression of his erection go unnoticed by you; seemingly immersed in the sensation his lips offered and the way his hardening cock rubbed against your inner thigh, you let out a mangled gasp, smiling to yourself.

"Sure—ah fuck—sure, tell me everything about your past." In your line of sight, you could only catch the minute glimpse of his tousled hair tickling your throat.

Seonghwa hauls a soft chortle against your collarbone; not knowing when he had drifted off from kissing your throat, to your collarbones, you whimper ever so slightly, lurching over to hug his shoulders tighter in your grasp. Your body somehow manages to stay on his lap, somehow rattling to his the movements of his hips and the sensitive teasing of his lips on your collarbones; if you were to squirm or shift even to the slightest to your side, you would be slipping out of his lap and landing ass-first on the floor.

"What, do you need a number or names?" he jokes, "I'm bad with both. Could never keep a count, or remember their names."

"That's just sad," you enunciate, shuddering to his teeth sinking right above one of your collarbones, "very much like you, I don't recall a lot of things from my past endeavours either."

Seonghwa hums along, "you certainly know how to play a risky game, don't you?" teasing you with his teeth, he proffers a few more nibbles to your flesh before pulling back. His hand drops from your hair and lets you move your head freely; though, he brings the same hand down to cup a side of your face, "don't bite more than you can chew."

"Oh, you're one to talk," you retort, rolling your eyes at him, "aren't you redirecting my attention to something else." He understands your intentions when you subtly glance down, and scoff, "I thought we were going to eat. You just seem to have all different kinds of ideas, anything but eating breakfast, apparently."

"And who's responsible for putting these ideas in my head?" he taunts you, patting your cheek before backing himself away and wrapping both his arms around your waist.

A dark sheet of serenity falls over the two of you, simmering your thoughts till he's making an effort to create a sound. Seonghwa's grip tightens around your figure, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he mumbles, "I've slept with many women in my past, maybe a few men here and there; but I could never connect with them on a spiritual level. Could never engage each other in meaningful conversations. Our emotional compatibility was almost close to negligible, so we kept it limited to our bodily passions and intimacies. All of my past experiences, they're more jarring than you could ever imagine them to be."

You listen to him draw in a sharp breath, his chest heaving into yours when he does. For the fractioned beat of a second, he grows quiet and then sighs, breaking his silence, "in the end, I came to terms with it; I had no problems living that lifestyle, even though it was, in practicality, destroying me." He adds, "so, due to my internalised needs and desires, I stopped meddling with the dating culture altogether. Now, I wander around, meeting new faces every night and indulging in most of my darkest desires."

"Does that sate your curiosities, sweetheart?" he wrings out a jagged laugh, shaking his head, "I truly hope so."

You nod, "yeah."

There's an underlying forethought concealed in Seonghwa's eyes; it glimmers softly while you're still figuring your way through the labyrinth of his words. Seonghwa may not be as forthcoming as you might have predicted him to be, though you couldn't really judge after only living with him for a month or so. It took time for him to peel his shell off, engage with you in much profound and deeper conversations about literally anything and those tête à têtes were your habitual secrets to seeking an ardent relationship with him.

"Good," he smiles, "let's eat then. I can feel my stomach growling for some food, while I'm starting to see stars behind my eyelids."

"Oh, you're so dramatic," you playfully scoff, before propping the lid off the pot, "and so hungry today. Are you sure it's food that you're craving and not something else?"

"What else would I crave on a Saturday morning?" he deadpans, licking his lips.

"I don't know, I was thinking about..." you trail off and let out a simple laugh, "me, aren't you craving me to fill your mouth with my sweetness..."

Seonghwa groans, keeping a mellowed out smile on his lips, "daddy's little girl really wants to test his patience, doesn't she? Well, daddy is going to make sure his little girl knows not to tease him."

Your spine crumbles to his husky voice, his arms tracing up your sides; fingers clasping onto the hem of your shirt, he lifts it over your head and discards it down on the floor. A soft crinkle resounds, but you aren't too bothered by it, because you were too fazed by his warm breath prickling your skin, fanning with an intensity. Bare chest, see-through demeanour, you fix your hungry eyes on his and wait for them to shift a shade, wait for them to lose all the light before he becomes feral in a way only you could understand. Wetting your lips, you slide your hands into his hair, picking at the soft tuft of ebony strands, and tangling yourself in the much needed strength. And there it goes without saying, ambient dark shrouds his eyes and a smirk fleets on his lips.

Till the time a breathless gasp leaves your mouth, his face is buried in between your tits. His tongue slithers out, rubbing up stripes, licking your skin; a moan gets trapped in your chest when you find the same warmth graze along your sternum. His lips hover over one of your tits, you're anticipating when he opens his mouth and engulfs you with a want you had been sitting on. However, he doesn't give it much thought before wrapping his soft lips around your flesh and guiding his mouth down. All in his mouth, you bite your lip and throw your head back, eyes screwing shut with the absolute pleasure you were bubbling with.

Your arousal seeps through your shorts when his teeth sink in lightly at first, and then he bites down, hard enough for his teeth to mark your skin. Strapping his hands to your waist and pulling himself away from your chest, he somehow manages to shuffle you on his lap. A second sounds in your head and his mouth is back on your chest; immersed in the holy delight of his lips and mouth sucking your tit, you voice a strangled whimper and fist your hands in his hair. Seonghwa winces at the way you were tugging on his hair, but doesn't make a sound and continues to do what he had taken up on.

Somber serenity in the surrounding is filled with fervent echoes of moans, groans and whimpers, all shuddering from your mouth; your lips remain parted, your eyes now half-lidded to gaze down at Seonghwa, and your cunt leaking with excitement. Whiling himself in his own carnality, he slides one of his hands up from your waist and gropes your other tit. The softness of his hand caresses your skin before the raggedness of his fingers envelops it whole. Pinching your taut nipple in between his thumb and forefinger, he lets it roll before pulling on it.

"Ah, fuck—Seonghwa," you voicelessly mutter out, bucking your hips into his to let your clothed cunt grind against his thigh, "you—you fucking switched up—you just—keep doing that, please."

Your desperation amuses him, but he doesn't let go. Seonghwa's tongue keeps lapping and tickling your taut nipple by rubbing its tip too harshly over it. At this point, you're gasping for air and your lungs could collapse any moment due to the suffocation your mind brought upon them. Moving your hips vigorously to a steady pace, you try to get as much friction against his thigh as you could. Internally, you writhe with a bolt of desperation striking down every rational thought in your body. While his other hand stays around your waist, he supports your back and lets you ride his thigh.

The slick of your arousal is starting to seep through your shorts and soaking into his sweatpants; if you could translate your and his neediness, you both wanted the same things. To rid yourself of your clothes. You were piqued beyond your desires, wanting to rub your drenched pussy against his bare thigh, and Seonghwa had his heart in his mouth, picturing how pretty you'd look cumming on his thigh. With his hand slipping against the small of your back, he gives you subtle hint and you take it; propping yourself on your feet, you stand while Seonghwa pulls away from your chest and suppresses a groggy grunt in his stomach.

"I better have you moaning my name when you're riding my thigh."

As he voices the steepest craving of his heart, he pinches your nipple harder and twists it in between his forefinger and thumb; you gasp, your lungs burning to the sting of your chest while you're starting to pool in your shorts.

"Do you understand that little girl?" he emphasises and tugs harshly on your nipple, red blotches starting to fade in across your skin.

"Yes—yes," you mutter, catching a breath, but aren't really given much time when Seonghwa's hand cups your tit before the palm lands flat and harsh against it.

"What do we say, Angel?" he slurs your name, and it rolls off his tongue coated with honey.

"Yes, daddy." he nods, willingly palming your tit before slapping it again, "that's what I like to hear, hmm..."

The meagre vibrations of his voice are just resonating in your ears when his delicate touches ghost your waist. Your bare skin gets trickled with goosebumps the moment he engulfs you in his warmth. Effortlessly, as you meet his eyes, pleading him to rid you from your shorts, he hooks his fingers under the waistband and tugs them down. Not a second is wasted in kicking the shorts off your body; they lay strewn on the floor, sprawled by the legs of Seonghwa's chair.

You're about to lower yourself back into his lap when he makes you cease your actions with a simple nudge of his head. Seonghwa, unfazed by your glistening cunt, quickly pulls his sweatpants down and lets them bunch at his ankles. Trapping a mewl in your chest, you then straddle a side of him, situating yourself and your aroused cunt on one of his thighs.

"Hmm, fuck me, Angel," Seonghwa moans, throwing his head back when he feels your slick caress his skin, "you're fucking leaking down here. Such a—such a wet cunt rubbing up and down my thigh," he takes a deep breath and squints his eyes close, "you seriously want me to lose it, don't you?"

You bite down on your lower lip and nod your head, pressing your back into his thigh and letting your cunt drag over; the very first brush of your folds against his skin was ecstatic, beaming a haze of sheer raw carnality through your body. Seonghwa catches his breath and straightens his head to have his gaze fixed on you. The specs of brown are mild and pale in his eyes, mostly because they were concealed behind a thick curtain of lust. The look in his eye is quite similar to the one you had caught up on that night, the night where you were sandwiched in between Yunho and him.

"I just—I just want to cum," you cry in absolute agony, the dragging minutes turning your arousal painful and harrowing. "I can't—Hwa, I can't take this much long—longer."

"Darling, no one's stopping you," he growls, "go ahead, make a mess on my thigh," he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, a sly smile curving his lips, "or does daddy's little girl need his cock to set her straight?"

When he rasps his words, you let a part of your sanity slip away into the dark of your lust; craving most of him, you rock your hips against his thigh, your wet folds fretting with a want so inhumanly strong to break you apart in meagre seconds. Needless to say, you were long gone, led astray in the land of darkness and pure lechery. How could you take things slow when you were beyond any hope, beyond the particulars of your aroused body forcing you to fold and rile up in all the worst ways possible. Your body jolts to the upheaving urge of suffering; cinched by your mind, you tense up the moment a tight knot fickle with your gut.

Winding your arms around his shoulders, you procure a much needed leverage for your hips to rub on his thigh. The sensation kept dragging out your high, kept you in the steady motion while you were whimpering in utmost pleasure. And the man under you was completely unfazed, however bewildered and amused to watch you use him to help you come undone. This was his first time watching you so desperate for him, his first time touching your cunt; it blew up a fuse in his head, mouth drooling at the sight of you and your tits bouncing, the sinful sounds your mouth parted with, and how lusciously loud you were starting to get. Combusting with the remaining desire, you steady the rhythm of your hips and tighten your arms around his shoulders. Your cunt kept clenching around nothing, your clit in a sensory overdose from grinding for long and your needy self still ached to be filled by him. Moans grew louder, your eyes welled with tears and blurred your vision.

"Daddy..." a whimper shudders in your most devastating voice ever, "I want you—I want your cock, please. I need you—I need you so bad, daddy."

Seonghwa's unholy chuckle resounds only a little when he immerses himself in the play of his cravings and dives in to lick your already shimmering tits. His spit layers on your skin, his cock springing and straining in his briefs at the way your delicate cunt kept stroking his thigh. This could be the ultimate end of your struggle, you were so sure the tension in your stomach would ease out if you continued for even a minute more. But to your disappointment, one of Seonghwa's hands comes down to caress your mound; he offers you a little slap before using his other hand to stop you. A bashing strike of his hand against your stomach is enough to bring you out of the daze, to have your hips rolling back while your body manages to comprehend the situation.

"Hmm," Seonghwa clicks his tongue, "my little girl needs daddy's cock to fuck her good, hmm..?" continuing to muse, he mumbles against your chest, "such a needy little girl."

"Please daddy," you whisper, tilting your head down to meet his eye.

"Get on your feet," he commands and you oblige, standing up with your legs on either side of his.

Seonghwa lets a teasing curve slide on his lips before he starts pulling his briefs down; he manages to slip them off his legs, shoving them to a side while he glances at you and how your eyes were tracing every inch of his cock. Indeed, you were staring down at him, salivating with the anticipation of when you'd be stuffed by him. Biting back on a groan, you could barely keep yourself up, merely have strength to keep yourself on your feet. When your knees buckle with an absolute want and feeble enthusiasm, you land straight in his lap. Seonghwa clicks his tongue, in an attempt to distract you from the embarrassment you thought you were delving in; he pulls your further down by your waist and lets the tip of cock nudge a side of your inner thigh.

In the heat of the moment, you mewl from the pit of your stomach and lurch into his chest. Simmering kisses along his clothed chest and collarbones, you graze your lips painfully slow to meet his; a fracture in time melts all boundaries for your rationality, and the next thing you know, you're licking his lips and shoving your tongue into his mouth. You pry his mouth further open, letting it fall wide while your tongue slithers past his and plunges to the base of his throat.

Seonghwa hums, letting you do as you please; he was more concentrated on bucking his hips into yours, to let you feel his hard cock, let it dent in your lower belly. You're far too gone, though a few minutes prior to this you were on the edge cumming, and now you're riling yourself up again. Pressing your tongue against the roof of Seonghwa's mouth, you shift in his lap and situate yourself in a desperate position. Your cunt stroked up his cock, the tip almost slipping inside but you veer slightly to let it slide out and up your mound. Musty stench of sweat and sex had already dissipated in the morning air, how the sunshine basked in glory of shining across your bodies and entrapping them in warmth of refined pleasure.

Breathless, Seonghwa pulls you by your waist and angles his head back; he takes a lug of air through his mouth and lets his lips mould into a smirk.

"What was that?" he questions, his husky voice dwindling to a mere whisper, "my little girl knows how to play, doesn't she...?"

You nod, succumbing to such neediness that you have to stable yourself by holding onto his shoulders. "Yes daddy..."

Seonghwa has had a good grasp on his untamed mind for quite long. Though he knows he's going to lose it soon, and the more you heed him by the word he so often goes crazy listening to, he might not really not go too easy on you. His hands glide down the small of your back and cup your ass. While his eyes are too busy fixated on you, he leans in to catch your lower lip in between his teeth. You give into him because you were wasted, intoxicated by carnality to have any logical notions to think straight. The raggedness of his calloused hands rubs against your ass. Taking the hint, you lift yourself only a bit for him to guide you down onto his cock. And he might have struggled a little to slip inside you, because he was distracted by your desperate eyes and the way he had trapped your lower lip in his mouth.

You whine, managing to get your words out, "fuck—daddy, I need you—fucking please."

"You're doing great so far, love," he praises you, freeing your lip from his clasp and continues, "come on, you can get it in by yourself, can't you?"

On the verge of crying out, you quickly nod your head and bring one of your hands down from his shoulder to wrap it around his cock. You give him a few strokes along the shaft and then proceed to pump his tip; bracing yourself, you use the same hand to align him against you, your attention solely fixed on Seonghwa's as he watches you with so much admiration. The moment the tip of his cock prods with your folds, his brows scrunch to the centre and his eyes flutter close. He voices a guttural moan, clasping down hard on his lower lip while you swallow the length of his cock. It slips right in because of your abundant arousal leaking out; he grows harder inside of you, twitching slightly you completely sink down and wrap your velvet walls around him.

"Ah, fuck. Angel..." he mutters under his breath, peeling his eyes open to find you were equally stuck in the trance of pleasure with him, "is daddy's cock perfect for you?"

You nod, "yes, daddy's cock—daddy's cock fits so well in my cunt."

And there goes your ability to structure cogent responses and voice them at the same time. You were bound to get drunk on all the dopamine and serotonin dispersed in your bloodstream; Seonghwa's body was just another excuse for your brain's haphazard behaviour. His cock nestles deep in your cunt, slightly straining again as you try to adjust to the stretch and his length. Seonghwa may not be as girthy or thick as Yunho, or Jongho for that matter, regardless, he had a good length to reach places which were probably not easily accessible to anyone. It wasn't a good time to recall, but the night you deep throated this man, you were practically left sore in your throat and Yunho's suggestion of drinking hot tea was a failed attempt.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa mumbles, slotting one of his hands in the small of your back and tracing up the other one to your neck, "such a good fucking whore to take my—take my cock in. Feels good, hmm? Daddy's cock feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," you whimper, wincing softly before leaning over to envelope his shoulders with your arms. "Daddy's cock—daddy's cock feels really good. So fucking good."

Your voice starts breaking towards the end; throat drying to the possible thought of rolling his hips against his, for his cock to plunge even deeper than this. The moment you try to move your hips even an inch, Seonghwa slaps a hand across your tits to get you out of the daze. Bothered and immensely frustrated, you let out a saccade series of jumbled up whines and gasp.

"Fuck—what was—what was that for?" you stutter, watching the man with tears in the corners of your eyes.

"Don't move." He smirks, "not yet."

"Why not?"

Seonghwa's smirk grows deep into his cheek, "because I'm hungry. And I need to eat."

"Fucking really?" you heave out a low-pitched laugh, sliding your arms down to the hem of his shirt, "daddy really is un-fucking-predictable."

"And daddy's little girl shouldn't have such a foul mouth on her," he teases, bringing his hand again to strike it against your chest; to you surprise he doesn't, rather he slaps your already puffed cunt, "hope she's aware daddy knows a way to cleanse it. Does she want—ah fuck, love, you're clenching around me."

He leans over to grunt in your ear, "be a good little girl while I have my breakfast, darling. And I'll give you what you deserve, hmm?"

"Okay," you murmur, but bite your tongue, adding, "daddy..."

Seonghwa scoffs playfully and props your body against his chest; he makes sure you're resting on him while he reaches out to the cutlery holder on the table to grab himself a spoon. The plates were ready in front of him beforehand, from back then. He helps him to a small serve of the rice you two had cooked together. As the rice spills over the plate, his spoon clatters delicately; he collects a spoonful and brings it close to your mouth. In all honesty, you were indeed hungry, but didn't want to admit it to him. Not when you were frisky and needy in the beginning.

"Here," he rests the spoon by your lower lip, "open wide."

Rolling your eyes at his trivial attempt at mockery, you open your mouth and let him put the spoonful of rice in. The spicy and tangy undertones hit your taste buds, quickly followed by the crunch of veggies. You were baffled, struck by a dilemma; there was a party of flavours in your mouth and in the merry land of downtown, your cunt was stuffed with his cock. Which plight was more engaging and pleasurable? Obviously, eating.

You hum in a strangled manner, gazing at Seonghwa who himself had a spoonful of rice in his mouth. A blotch of sauce stains under his lip, just below on his chin and your mind goes off with an idea. Leaning in, your breath fans along his nose and lips, eventually turning intense on his chin. Your tongue darts out in the latter second and laps up the stain. You've licked it clean, and while you were immersed in doting on Seonghwa's lowly groans, you could feel him twitch in your cunt. It turned him on. Victory for you.

"Really?"

"What?" you act coy, rolling your hips into his to let the tip of his cock thrust into you slightly. "You've got weird kinks, I did what I thought you'd like..." you drag it to a mumble, "daddy."

He shakes his head, a smile splaying on his lips; he gets another spoonful of rice and feeds it to you. Again, you relish on the savoury taste and moan softly. Again, Seonghwa's cock pulsates in your cunt.

"I do." He answers to your priorly posed question, "in fact, feeding you is weirdly turning me on."

"Touché," you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to cum or not?" he mocks, sliding his other hand up your bare stomach to grope one of your tits.

"You're a fucking tease."

Uh-oh.

You shouldn't have said that.

'Cause the moment those words left your lips, Seonghwa's eyes lost their light, and his lips pursed together in a straight line. He lets the spoon drop against the plate, clattering louder at the impact and the echoes kept resonating around. You swallow thickly, your mind fogged with deliberate thoughts of him and anticipation. It takes a fraction of a second for Seonghwa to thrust his hips into yours, ramming his cock further up your cunt. You press on a moan, fumbling with your arms to allot them a place to rest; finding his shoulders perfect for your body to support itself you tangle them around him and hope for the best.

"Fine," he mutters, growling through his words halfway, "I'll get straight to the point then. Get on your feet."

His voice is as dark as his eyes, stern clear and firm; you swallow down on a lump in your throat again, and get on your feet. When you do, though, his cock slips out of your cunt and you wince at the emptiness; your much elated indulgence comes to a sudden halt but it doesn't leave you quite yet. As you're steadying your quavery feet on the floor, Seonghwa stands up from his chair and steps out of his sweatpants pooling around his ankles. Your eyes meet with his, losing yourself to the push and pull of your horniness; he takes a step towards you, while your back is pressed up against the table. The edge of the table dents into your flesh, but it's nothing compared to the steely despair in your stomach which bubbles through your body. He lurches over and rests his arms on either side of you, putting his hands on the table to trap you in between his body.

"Ass out, little girl," he rasps, "daddy is going to remind you how to behave around him."

With little to no resistance in your mind, you flip your body over and stick your ass out; he, on the other hand, does not hesitate in grabbing your waist or pulling your ass back into his crotch. He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it up to clutch it in between his teeth; the shirt rides up and exposes his toned abdomen, and chest. You glance over your shoulder to bask in the sight, the delicious sight of him biting down on the hem of his shirt and sporting a smirk on his lips. There's no denying, he was a piece of art and even more so, he appeared so fucking hot while pushing himself into you. His cock nudges against your asscheek as he rolls his hips into your rear; he continues to do so until his cock slips perfectly in between, under your cunt. The tip prods with your slit, tracing back and forth till he makes an attempt to sink into your warmth.

Seonghwa's grunt is partially coarse when he plunges the tip of his cock into you. The way he slips in so effortlessly into your cunt, reminds you how wet and aroused you were. Though, you wouldn't have minded if he had rubbed his cock along your slit for few more minutes; it was driving you insane how he drags his ministrations and tipping you off the edge. Your patience were disintegrating and it was hard to keep up with your body.

"Fuck, Angel," he slurs his words, "you're swallowing me in, fuck—so fucking eager."

He winds an arm around your waist, resting it right over your stomach to steady you before pushing himself further into your hips. Inch by inch, the entirety of his cock is buried in your cunt, the fullness causes you to tremble and shudder, forcing you to take a deep breath which apparently only stings your lungs. Seonghwa uses his other hand to slot it in the curve of your back, pushing you over the table and bending you into him. It was all about the convenience, finding the perfect angle for his cock to thrust and ram into all the good places inside you.

"Seonghwa..." you whimper, resting your hands in front of you, holding onto the table as you're pushed into it with his force. "Fuck—daddy, you're—a little faster, please."

Stringing out a few words to create something coherent, at least you thought you were. Seonghwa's thrusts pick up their pace, only by a tempo while he still teases you: he pushes in till the base of his cock, and pulls out fully to leave you whining on the empty feeling. He does that quite a lot, frequently slipping out of you and sliding back in with much fervent enthusiasm than before. The teasing was only so much you could handle at the given moment of time, because you were already in the hopeless state of mind, wanting to be railed by him without any restrictions or distractions.

It had certainly left your mind that you stayed here with seven others men; one of which who resents you but the other six are patient, awaiting on their chance with you. If any one of them were to walk in on the two of you, it'd be a mess. Not that you did not anticipate it. You would be propelled into a new world of kinks and chaos if someone were to watch you get dicked down by Seonghwa. Just picturing it makes you clench around Seonghwa's cock, groaning at the slow-paced thrusts and pokes he eventually made at your clit with the tip of it. You were beyond helpless and had a vague outline of future possibilities streaming in your mind. That is, if someone were to really walk in on the two of you, you really hoped it to be Yunho.

Fuck. That doesn't seem like a good idea, considering Yunho had conveyed a part of his jealousy when you were sucking Seonghwa's face off that one night. If he were to see you get railed by his friend, it'd make him vicious enough to pull Seonghwa off of you and complete the task himself.

Probably, you'd want San to walk in on you two; there's no logic to this, but to your better judgement, it seems right for him to. You and San hadn't had much of an interaction, though you're a hundred percent assured he'd revel in the sight of your ass sticking out and into Seonghwa's crotch. San was definitely an ass guy.

"What are you thinking about?" Seonghwa asks, losing his grasp on his shirt; it falls down over your back, tickling your skin softly.

"Nothing—nothing really."

"Liar. Tell me," he chuckles, dark and loud. "I know you're—fuck—thinking about something."

Seonghwa's grunt settles heavy against your shoulder when he pushes his cock back into and proceeds to fuck you with the tip; he leans in to rest his chin on your shoulder, his ragged breathing harsh against your skin, tickling a side of your face and your ear. The material of shirt chafes your skin to the slightest degree, but should you really be worried about that? Your mind had been numb to his cock prodding and thrusting harshly into you, the rhythm of his hips not once faltering; he's certainly going at it, but somehow drawling out your orgasm and his too. He brings both of his hands on either side of your waist, clutching and denting your flesh with his fingers.

"I know what you're thinking about," he groans, "fuck—what if someone were to—what if someone walks in on us, hmm?"

You moan, "daddy..."

"Little girl wants someone to watch her while she gets—fuck—while she gets railed by her daddy, hmm?"

"Yeah, thinking bout someone—someone watching me."

"Ah, daddy's little girl is really filthy," he plunges deep into you, the tip of his cock settling in your warmth, "wants someone to watch her—wants others to see how good—fuck—how fucking good her daddy fucks her."

"Please," you mewl, nails scratching against the wood of the table, varnish slipping under them. "Please daddy—wanna—wanna be a good girl for you."

"Hmm," he hums close to your ear, licking up a stripe to bite down on the shell of it, "you are. Such a good girl—such a good fucking girl—fuck, taking daddy's cock so fucking well."

His hips rattle your body, the pace building up to a heavy speed, and continuing to follow so; pushing at your back, he bends you further onto the table, almost pushing your chest flat against it. In your haphazard world, you are cautious not to fall on the half eaten plate of food and the little sauce pan of rice which remained covered. You turn your head to the side, cheek pressed up against the wooden top and catch in the glimpse of Seonghwa's sweaty face. A few drops cascade down his forehead, while a few strands of his stuck too close to his skin. He has a very fucked look in his eyes, losing himself to the insatiable temptation of hitting you from the back.

You stretch your hands in front of you, pressing the palms flat and supporting your body to the wild impacts of his hips. As the benign force of his thrusts causes you to oscillate back and forth against the table, you're somehow lost in the trance while staring at him. Seonghwa throws his head back, his throat arching so perfectly, so expressive of him; his adam's quivers under his skin, and he screws his eyes shut. You're on the verge of letting your tears slide down your face, stricken with immense pleasure and delight in the way his cock was ploughing through your puffy walls.

"Good girl for..." you muffle your words on your spit, the drool starting to accumulate and trickle past your mouth. "Good girl for daddy."

"Yes, sweetheart . Such a sweet girl." Seonghwa replies incoherently and continues, "such a sweet little cunt, swallowing my cock in—so fucking well."

He had lost it too; he rambled useless words in the daze of your walls cleaning around him. It was the sweet disposition which got him to thrust himself even deeper. Too deep. Too many long and hard thrusts. His crotch and lower abdomen stays flushed with your ass, his thighs boring into your hips with every thrust of his. The tip of his cock plunges in the steeper end of you, pushing through your walls and jolting your body close to your orgasm. One of Seonghwa's hands comes to rest on the nape of your neck, wrapping delicately before pushing your head further into the table. His other hand lays flat against the small of your back, somehow forcing you to arch your ass into his cock. It worked.

"Daddy..." you moan, eyes half-lidded and lips slick with your drool; not just your lips, your chin had a sheeny coat of your spit.

"A little more, darling," Seonghwa groans.

When you whimpered his name, it was the point of no return for him; he diverts his mind towards your cunt, and how your warmth had engulfed his cock in sheer pleasure. Your walls tauten around him, and devour his cock further into your heat. You weren't fond of the table, your body felt sore and aching against it; and his thrusts weren't easing out any of the pain, not when he had picked them up. The inhumane lunges of his hips, shoved his cock deep. Stroking his thumb on the back of your neck, he leans over to rest his forehead on your shoulder blade. His hot breath fans your skin, edging you close to your orgasm.

A unlikely and familiar heaviness knots in your gut, twisting them ferociously as your stomach growls with a need. Seonghwa's cock keeps hitting you in all the right places, in all the right ways; you were minutes away from crumpling down and easing out your orgasm. Sensing your walls clench around his pulsating cock, Seonghwa peppers your shoulder with gentle and light kisses. The fluttering sensation crawls down to your stomach and causes it to twist; you're so close, almost on the verge of letting it go. The hand resting against your back, traces up the length of your arm and pulls it down; he bends it over and slots it in the curve of your back. Doing the same with your other arm, he has both of them together against your back, while he traps your wrists in his death grip. You're far too fucked out of your mind to resist against anything.

"Go on, sweetheart," he whispers, "you deserve it—fuck—go on, make a fucking mess on daddy's cock."

"Holy fuck—I'm—I'm fucking—I'm..." your voice gets lost in the sound of your skin slapping with his.

That was it. The last bits of his words make you go crazy, snapping every string of self-restraint and control, cutting off every thought to your brain and body. He drills his cock into you, keeping it concise and easy, and you're unravelling all over him. The knot in your gut nicks at your stomach, tightening it up further in your chest, and when the lightness washes you down, you relax your muscles and hear your juices splash. The cold drops trickle down your inner thighs, coating every inch of his cock as he continues to thrust through it.

"Such a good girl," Seonghwa growls, stuttering in his words, "daddy's gonna fill you up, sweetheart—daddy's gonna fill this sweet little cunt up."

Your lungs burn, your throat feels a little sore and your body feels lethargic; you're almost certain you'd pass out if he were to continue like this. Seonghwa heaves out a groan, which comes out hard from his chest as he fixes his drunken gaze on your face. His continues to caress his thumb against the back of your neck, which you had forgotten about a few minutes ago, and rolls his thighs into yours; his hips stay flushed against yours for a meagre second until he's pulling back. Keeping up with this, he thrusts in deep for the last time before his cock twitches with the urge; drenching your walls in his warmth, he spurts his load into you and rides it out with a few more thrusts.

The warmth of his cum dribbles on your skin, trailing further down to your knees when he pulls out. Emptiness scorns your body, pulling it out of the trance and your mind clears up with the post-orgasm clarity. His heat dissipates to cold air when he pulls himself away from you; stepping back, he heaves out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his sticky and sweaty hair. You take a moment, a short second to compose your breathing before pushing yourself from the table. Your body feels lightweight and relaxed, but at the same time, you're drained. Even standing on your feet seemed like a task you'd fail at miserably. You plop down on the chair instead, hugging its backrest close to your chest and resting your head down against its edge.

"Now, that was something," a deep voice rumbles; the man clicks his tongue and pulls your attention on him. You raise your head up, almost too quickly and it gives you a good whiplash.

"How long have you been standing there for?" Seonghwa questions, pulling his briefs and sweatpants over his waist. He sounds a little breathless as well. Obviously.

"Fuck," you whisper under your breath, your naked form in all its glory in front of the man you hadn't spoken to a lot before.

He stood aimlessly by the kitchen's entrance, giving him the flawless view of you and Seonghwa doing it on the dining table. You were trembling with so much excitement after knowing there indeed was someone watching you while you got dicked down. But you did not expect it to be him. Not at all. The man has a flustered face, cheeks, the tip of his nose and ears, tainted with the subtle shade of red. He wore a black tank top and grey jogger shorts, his long ebony shaded hair sat disheveled yet neatly framed his face; half of it was tied back in a small and messy ponytail, while most of his hair stayed loose and tickled the sides of his face.

"Since she brought up someone walking in on your two," he simply shrugs and steers his gaze away from Seonghwa and onto you, "don't worry, Angel. You were fucking hot, writhing under his body. Look—" he glances down, and you do too, finding a tent in his shorts, "—my cock was so excited to see you like that."

"Well, we're actually done," Seonghwa wraps an arm around your shoulders and leans down to kiss your temple, "she's all yours if you want her."

The man standing by the kitchen, with a chilled water bottle in his hand, muses and contemplates for a good minute before his sleazy smile turns into a mischievous smirk. He unscrews the cap of his water bottle and chugs a good amount of water before sighing out in satisfaction and putting the cap back on. You could roughly translate what his eyes spoke to you at that moment, there's no way you wouldn't understand the hunger and wildness in them. And if you were honest, he was the last person you wanted to spend your time with.

"Sounds good," he mumbles, "we actually have a bone to pick, don't we Angel?"

Seonghwa gawks, "oh really?"

"Yeah," the latter continues, "we better get it done, right Angel." his voice drops down a baritone and his eyes lose their jubilant temperament, "you've already pissed me off too much, Angel. I better not find you stalling today as well."

Dread crawls your stomach and your mind goes blank, if it isn't the consequences of your actions. You're biting on your tongue, wondering how you'd get out of this. If you recall anything from the past, you might remember you were handed a contract and asked to read through it. You stalled, procrastinated and did everything else but pay any attention to that contract over the past week. Of course, now the devil haunts you, just as he had been haunting you in the past week. To your defence, the contact withheld a lot of information and most of the times, you'd fall asleep reading it. So, you put that task off till you were in a good mood and free from your university assignments. That day never came actually.

Yeosang's smirk grows in his cheek, his eyes devouring your naked stature as whole before he heaves out a breath and tugs at the straps of his tank top. You had no idea what he was thinking about. There was no way to know since you weren't a mind reader. But if you could vaguely rely on your imagination, you could tell he was thinking of ways to punish you. And that somehow, turned you on like a bitch. You were yet to venture into his kink, know his preferences and the anonymity itself made you wet, wetter than before when you were with Seonghwa.

"She's all yours, Sangie." Seonghwa kisses your cheek this time, "just give her some time to clean herself. I came in too hard."

"Of course, but yeah," you chime in, an awkward chuckle leaving your lips, "why don't I take a shower and meet you in your room once I'm done?"

He listens to your suggestion intently, ponders over it and breaks his silence to give out his testimony. "It's just cum, I'm fine with it."

As the serenity falls over the three of you, Yeosang clears his throat, "come on now."

You tense up, your shoulders going stiff and your body convulsing; you were caught up in your mind, reeling back to your moment with Seonghwa. Regardless, you were attentive enough to listen Seonghwa's clueless chatter further on.

"What is this about, Sangie?"

Yeosang shrugs, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his chest; the way his muscles bulge and flex, cause you to lose a part of your sanity. "Do you want to join us for a round two?"

Seonghwa shakes his head, while you're comprehending what Yeosang had just uttered and why was it so filthily hot coming from his mouth. "I wish," the older sighs, "gotta clean up the mess here and then wake the others up. I've got a few tasks lined up for the day, too. I'm taking a rain check, regardless of how fun it sounds."

His warmth clashes against your forehead when he turns and leans down to kiss it, "Angel helped me with my lethargy in the morning. I'm as refreshed as a daisy blooming on a Sunday morning."

Yeosang hums and Seonghwa adds in a mere whisper directed to you, "I have something planned for you tonight, though. Meet me in my room after dinner, hmm?"

You nod, eyes shuffling across the span of the space to meet Yeosang's; he has something lurking in his, something cruel, a few dwelling strokes of sinister intentions and a bit of malice to have your heart palpitating for no reason whatsoever. Shifting your legs on the chair you sat on, you sense something trickle down from between your thighs; the jolt of realisation strikes you hard and you quickly get on your feet before you stain the chair.

Seonghwa casts you a bemused glance, and upon understanding your actions, he lets out a soft chuckle. "It's fine, Angel. You don't have to worry about it."

You pout, "I wouldn't want to add in to your troubles, you've got a lot of them already."

"I can manage, Angel."

Seonghwa shakes his head and picks up your shorts; he hands them to you and you're quick to slip into them, preventing any flow out that might cause with your curt movements. Running his eyes on your bare chest, and the emerging purple blotches around your neck and tits, he grabs your shirt as well, and tugs it over your head. Exalted by his mannerisms, your heart does a little leap and drops down to your stomach.

"Well, thanks..."

"Are you two done?" Yeosang questions, voicing out his ire and annoyance.

"Yes," Seonghwa laughs, "go easy on her, Sangie. She's new to your kink."

"I'll think about it." The latter smirks and straightens himself off the wall, "any day now, Angel. I hate it when people keep me waiting."

"And it irks me even more when they aren't obedient."

M.list | Previous | Next

[morning-star-joy]

tarnished but so grand (Regency!Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Regency AU

Premise (by @dreamofpeppermints): tommy and maria lead a jovial existence in the countryside, but the appearance of tommy’s brother causes a stir in society with the dark rumors swirling around his reputation, some due to his standoffish demeanor and some due to the mysterious parentage of his rambunctious young ward miss williams

Warnings: Inferences to sexual tension/lust, forbidden relationship vibes, age gap (Joel early 50s, Reader late 20s)

A/N: Ty em for enabling my regency!Joel idea and giving me muse to write what was never supposed to be written (how dare you give me this brain rot ilysm)

Wordcount: 817

Mr. Miller was very much off-limits.

Nevermind the fact that the mysterious appearance of the man was followed by a cacophony of rumors at his heels—most of which revolved around the young woman who quite literally stayed on said heels.

No, it wasn’t the daunting whispers that surrounded the stoic gentleman—if he could ever be regarded as such, given his standoffish, abruptly gruff nature if anybody dared to approach him for fruitless conversation he wouldn’t bother contributing to—that made him unapproachable.

Nor was it even the questions of parentage of the girl in his care—an illegitimate daughter, perhaps? Mr. Miller had disappeared from the town for near-on twenty years, so to suddenly show up at his younger brother’s doorstep with a ward who had just recently come of age sowed many doubts of his reputation through the nosy neighbors of this small section of society that resided in the countryside.

None of these things, not even the man’s apparent lack of concern for court, were what branded Mr. Miller as being very, very unavailable.

What labeled him as being somebody you should stay far, far away from, was how he looked at you.

The first time you felt the heavy weight of Mr. Miller’s dark gaze was from across a crowded room.

To nobody’s surprise, the surly man had come into the habit of keeping himself as far away from the happenings of court as he could, holding up the wall from where he loitered at the edge of irritatingly extravagant rooms.

You were much of the same opinion as he—the only reason you attended these events was for the benefit of your younger sister and her closest friend, the two girls having just officially joined society, with stars in their eyes and high hopes of whirlwind romances that you were determined not to let them be swept away in.

Standing on the sidelines on the opposite side of the room, you felt the intensity of his eyes before you even saw them, eliciting a sensation of trembling unease that settled deep into your bones and rattled you completely.

And when you couldn’t resist any longer, giving up on ignoring whoever was staring at you so intently and lifting your gaze to meet their eyes—

Oh.

Your eyes met dark brown, a color so dark it was nearly black from this distance. It greatly suited his dour demeanor, enhancing the way you had caught mere glimpses of him scanning ballrooms with a severely furrowed brow, lips downturned in distaste at the frivolity of society.

But now those eyes were settled on you, watching you, completely picking you apart in a way that was not borderline scandalous, but still somehow entirely indecent.

It was a look that made your chest tighten, breath catching in your throat as you steadied your grip on the glass in your hand. 

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you should look away.

Best to play the ingénue; flutter your eyelashes and glance away to show submission, subsequently turning away his cold judgment and maybe finding the interest of another, suitable member of the court to distract you from how Mr. Miller made you feel from his eyes alone.

But that flare of a stubborn streak reared its ugly head inside of you, and you straightened, squaring your shoulders back as you met his gaze straight-on.

Your eyes didn’t waver, your own lips pulling down into the smallest of frowns as you refused to be the first to look away, not wanting to lose this battle that he had picked by staring at you so.

But he didn’t back down either. 

No, Mr. Miller simply raised the glass in his hand, taking a long sip from the dark wine before lowering it from his lips, giving you a glimpse of his tongue swiping along them to collect the last drops of the sweet drink—because you knew it was sweet, you had been drinking the same wine from your own glass and oh, no.

Heat like you had never felt before surged through you then, coursing in your veins and setting you ablaze, but you still refused to be the one to back down.

And so you witnessed that Mr. Miller’s deeply furrowed brow was not, in fact, permanently fixed on his face when he arched one of those dark eyebrows towards you and—

A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you suddenly felt that heat pool somewhere else; aching, throbbing, and you quickly looked away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything else to occupy your mind as you felt your heart hammer against your ribcage.

You knew then that what made Mr. Miller truly dangerous, what made him somebody that you would have to fight tooth and nail to stay away from, was how much you wanted him.

No, not even that.

It was how much he wanted you.

[lovebugism]

Hiii!!!

So I have this idea, i hope you like it: Picnic day with steve and the kids, chaotic but full of fun and love ♡

hi angel! this was a super fun request! i hope you like it!! — the one where steve takes his babysitting gig up to weathertop and you bring peace to the ensuing chaos (fluff, established relationship, 1.9k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

The hike to Weathertop is long and merciless. Even though Dustin warned you it would be, Steve complains the entire trek upwards.

“There’s no way we’re not there yet, dude,” the boy whines like a child, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. 

You’re practically dragging him up the relentless mountain now. With every labored stride, full of aching thighs and blades of grass cutting your ankles, you’re pulling a human with you. 

Steve’s hand hasn’t left yours since you pulled off at the side of the road at Kerley, nearly a half hour ago. His long fingers stay curled between yours — sweaty palms, incessant griping, and all.

“For the hundredth time, we’re close, alright?” Dustin gripes between heavy pants. The curly-haired boy leads the group with a duffle bag of supplies in tow. “You know, maybe if you stop complaining, we’d get there faster.”

“Alright. Watch the tone, you little shit,” Steve squints at the back of him.

You grin at the red-faced boy, equally as exerted as you tug on his hand. 

“C’mon. Stevie,” you lilt with your head to your shoulder, blinking at him with pretty eyes that sparkle beneath a yellow sun. “We’re almost there, okay? I can almost see the top of it now.”

You walk ahead of him with the intent to pull him forward. He plants his feet, dirty sneakers rooted in the billowing grass — immovable. You’re not nearly as athletic as he is. None of you are. But he’s eons more dramatic than the lot of you. Stubborn, too.

“I don’t know how you dragged me into this,” Steve deadpans. Though his structured features are fixed in a firm scowl, his chocolate eyes still melt for you.

This was the one day all week he had off from the hellscape that was Starcourt. He’d had it all planned out — breakfast in bed with his girl, a little hike after lunch with his friends, maybe a swim after, and then a movie and dinner (again, with his best girl).

But it’s well into the afternoon now, with no end of the journey in sight. All his plans are ruined and, like a boy, he pouts.

“‘Cause you love me?” you reply with a scrunched nose and an innocent shrug.

Steve only huffs in response. The big, dramatic exhale deflates his chest. He lets you pull him up the hill despite the glower on his face.

He grumbles like a raincloud, “Yeah… Guess so…”

Dustin tells you all about a girl named Suzie he met at summer camp. Something about Utah, Phoebe Cates, and ‘super religious white people.’ It’s hard to hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. 

“I’m not Mormon, so her parents would never approve. It’s all a bit… Shakespearean—”

“I don’t wanna alarm anyone, but I think I might have sunstroke,” Robin blurts with wide eyes.

You all still and turn to look at her. Steve scoffs. “Do you even know the signs of sunstroke?”

“Are you hot?” you ask the brunette girl who idles on the other side of Steve.

“Like an oven,” she affirms, freckled face glowing pink. “If you touch me right now, I might actually burn you.”

“Are you dizzy? Or Nauseous?”

“I’ve been debating using this picnic basket as a puke bucket for five whole minutes,” she confesses quickly.

Max leaves Lucas’ side and walks a few steps down the mountain to take the wicker basket from the girl’s grip. Just in case.

“Are you confused?”

“Always,” Robin and Steve answer at the same time.

“Well, shit, Buckley,” you quip with a huff. “You might have sunstroke.”

The boy squeezes your hand and he shoots you a look. “Don’t tell her that. You’ll just freak her out.”

“Too late,” Robin wavers, glassy-eyed gaze gaping and faraway.

“Look!” Dustin exclaims. He’s got a wide grin on his face as he points further up the mountain. “I can see Cerebro now! That means we’re close!”

“You’ve been saying that for ten minutes!” Steve shouts in response.

The curly-haired boy shifts awkwardly under the weight of his glare. “Yeah, but… Now, I mean it.”

And sure, the hike to Weathertop was long and merciless, but the view was worth it. 

It was the highest point in all of Hawkins, according to Dustin’s calculations. You could see the small town vaguely in the distance, though nature consumed you most of all. The tall grass and lush trees surrounding you were virtually untouched by man — well, aside from a couple of teenagers and their satellite, at least.

Steve squints up at the metal structure with his hands on his hips. He looks too much like a dad in his basketball shorts and form-fitting t-shirt.

“Damn,” he huffs. “You guys built all this?”

Dustin grins. “Yep. Impressed?”

“By how nerdy all of you are? Absolutely,” the boy mutters before walking over to you.

You stand at the edge of the hill, your gaze glued to the green spanning miles ahead of you. Everything is tinted a flaxen shade with the sun just starting to set. In the pink sky, everything glimmers golden.

“It’s so pretty up here,” you marvel as Steve’s arms curl around your waist.

He hugs you to him, neverminding the sweat dampening your sticky skin. His face leans against yours. You can feel the scruff dusting along his reddened cheek. 

“Isn’t this sunset, like, the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?”

“Hmm. I don’t know,” Steve hums with a teasing inflection. “Maybe the second most beautiful thing.”

He’s beaming when you spin in his arms. You meet his wide grin with a playful scowl. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you grouse, though you’re smiling by the time he leans down to kiss you. 

His lips are soft and pink like the sky above you. He tastes like peanuts and chocolate from the trail mix he had earlier. You melt into him effortlessly, too quickly forgetting where you are.

“Don’t be gross!” Robin whines from behind the two of you.

You part from Steve to look over at her. Her arms are crossed over her chest and her features are contorted in discontent.

“I don’t have an escape route up here for that, and I am not walking all the way back down there.”

“Sorry…” you wince as you step out of Steve’s arms.

“Yeah, sorry, Robin,” the boy concedes, just before pulling you back and smacking another kiss to your cheek.

—————

The day goes by in a blink. 

It hardly feels like hours have passed, but the sun has long set over Weathertop now. The sky turns into a deep blue velvet shade and sparkles with twinkling stars.

Dustin hasn’t yet parted from Cerebro. He’s still trying to contact Suzie, but she hasn’t answered him yet. He certainly isn’t disproving the fake girlfriend allegations, but the rest of them gave up teasing him about it long ago.

Instead, you idle in the dewy grass with your heads tilted to the sky. 

Max and Lucas share a blanket with Mike and Will. The latter two boys have long dozed off, full on candy and sandwiches. You and Steve lay across from them on your own quilt. He leans back, propped up on his toned arms as you lounge against his chest. 

Robin sits on the cooler next to Cerebro and tries not to go crazy when Dustin asks, “Suzie, do you copy?” for the millionth time.

“Look! There’s Orion!” you grin as you point to the sky.

Steve follows your finger and squints. “There’s no way you’re actually seeing this shit.”

“Just find Sirius and go a little to the left,” you explain, motioning to the constellation with your hand. “It looks like a person holding a bow and arrow. You literally can’t miss it.”

You tilt your head against the boy’s chest to see his face. His bushy brows pinch together in confusion. “What the hell is a Sirius?” 

“Suzie, do you copy—”

“Oh, my god,” Robin groans. “She’s obviously not there, Dustin.”

“She’s there! She’ll pick up!”

“Maybe Cerebro just doesn’t work,” Steve shrugs.

Lucas counters without missing a beat. “Or maybe Suzie just doesn’t exist.”

“She exists!” Dustin retorts, his voice a few octaves higher than normal.

“She’s a genius, and she’s hotter than Phoebe Cates?” the boy scoffs with a laugh. “No girl is that perfect.”

“Ooh,” you hear Steve wince from behind you when Max shoots up from her lazed position. You cover your mouth to hide your smile as Lucas sits up with her. He looks a little bit frightened beneath the redhead’s piercing glare.

“Is that so?” Max wonders with an arched brow. She tilts her head to her shoulder and turns to look at you. “Would Steve ever say something that to you?”

“Definitely not,” you answer with a shake of your head.

“Because he’s, like, definitely smarter than that, right?”

You nod. “Absolutely.”

“I mean… You’re perfect! Like, perfect in your own way!” Lucas stammers as he tries to defend himself. “In your own— In your own special way.”

You feel Steve’s laugh rumble in his chest. “He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.”

The younger couple squints at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that it’s not about being hotter than Phoebe Cates,” the boy answers with a shrug. 

You lean back against him to watch his face as he explains. He props you and him up with one arm and gestures with the other. “Like, sure, she’s pretty and all, but she’s not real. When you love someone, you love them because they’re not perfect. Not in spite of it, you know?”

“Well, statistically speaking, no one’s perfect,” Dustin chimes in with the radio’s microphone in hand.

Steve scoffs. “That’s not true. Whatever happened to beauty is in the eye of the beholder, huh? Being perfect isn’t about not having flaws or whatever. That’s bullshit. It’s about loving someone and thinking they’re still perfect even if they are loud, and weird, and strange.”

Your chest swells with so much warmth that it starts to ache. Maybe it’s just the lingering sunburn or your adoration for the boy you lay upon. You can feel the burn of it either way. 

A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth as you squint up at him. You can only see the chiseled edges of his profile from this angle. “Not to be presumptuous or anything, but are you saying that I’m loud and weird and strange?” 

Steve tilts his chin to look down at you. His brown eyes sparkle, full of love and warmth, as he smiles softly down at you. “You are absolutely all of those things, yes.”

You beam up at him, bright like the moonlight bathing the two of you in neon blue. You’ve never felt so loved for all the things you hated about yourself. 

Steve’s got the same dazzling smile on his face as he leans down to kiss you. You quickly find that it’s impossible to lock your mouths together when you’re grinning so wide. It’s just smiles pressed against smiles and noses knocking together for all of half a second.

“Jesus Christ,” Robin grouses in a mumble as she tears the crust off her peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She shoves it in her mouth a second later and mumbles through the mouthful. “I’d rather be having sunstroke.”

“Tell me about it,” Dustin scoffs, then turns back to the radio. “Suzie, do you copy?”

He flinches when a balled-up piece of bread comes flying his way.

[bluhourz]

when you argue

-

"Are you even understanding what you are saying right now?"

"It's like you don't want to understand my side!"

The arguing and back-and-forth shouting has been going on for too long by now. Both of you were too stubborn to let it go. Finally, after what felt like hours both of you had enough.

The silence hung heavy in the air. You were sitting on the edge of the couch. Your hands were in your lap, and you were staring into the wall in front of you. Taehyun sighed from where he sat on the opposite end of the couch. He ran his hands through his hair and wiped over his face.

"I'm actually really tired now. I think I'm just going to go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch. You take the room."

His voice was rough from the yelling, and with every few words, his voice would waver slightly. You didn't respond to him. You knew if a word left your mouth now, you would just end up crying. You only bowed your head down even more to avoid his gaze. One look would be enough to break you.

He stood up slowly and started walking towards the bathroom. As soon as you were sure you heard the door close, you let it out. Tears immediately flooded your eyes, and your head fell onto your knees. Crying harder with each passing second, you felt your heart ache. Your shoulders shook as you tried your best not to let any noise out.

This is how you ended up not hearing Taehyun open the door. He just wanted to grab something from the room, but he instantly heard your cries coming from the living room. Slowly and silently, he walked over to the doorway. Peeking around the corner, he saw your crumpled form on the couch, shaking and crying. He could feel his heart break into thousands of pieces, knowing your crying was due to him.

He started making his way over to you. He didn't want to startle you, so he slowly crouched down in front of you. As soon as you felt his presence, you froze. Taehyun put one hand on the back of your head and one hand on yours in your lap.

"Jagi?" his voice was ever so soft.

You just sniffled as you shook your head. You didn't want to talk now. You just wanted to cry and let it all out.

"Jagi, please. I need you to talk to me."

It was his strained but wobbly voice that made you sit up. As soon as you caught his red eyes rimmed with tears, a fresh wave left your own. The thick silence hung in the air again as you started at each other. He looked away first this time.

Taehyun had a soft but sad smile on his face as his hands reached up. With one hand on either side of your head, he held you and wiped your tears away, still avoiding looking into your eyes.

"Oh love, please don't cry because of me," he whispered, wiping the left side.

"It hurts me to know I'm the reason for this," he wiped the right side.

Now holding your face in both hands again, he finally looked into your eyes.

"I love you so much. Probably too much for my own good," he chuckled as a tear left his eye, "I can't think rationally when you are involved. It's like everything I know goes out of the window once you show up."

His hands slowly fell down to hold your own. You still didn't trust yourself to actually speak yet, so you just listened.

After a few seconds of silence, his voice finally broke, "I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have said all those things. I know it was wrong of me. I'm sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention. I'm sorry."

As he finished talking, his head dropped into your lap. Silent tears left his eyes as he held onto you tightly. Almost as if you would disappear if he let go.

You stared down at the back of his head. You know you should be angry and upset right now, but your instincts were screaming at you to hold him. To comfort him. So that's what you did. You slowly took your hands away from him to pull him closer and into your chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, and you laid your head against his. Hearing your heartbeat against his ear, he relaxed slightly.

"I'm sorry too, Taehyun-ah," you whispered.

His only response was to pull you closer. For now, this was enough.

[wrestlezaynia]

Not sure if you're taking requests of these prompts, if you are this would be nice please, if not, that's okay, just ignore this

"Accidentally" walking in on someone naked prompts.

Embarrassed:

"I'm sorry, I-" *your sentence cut short as your eyes wander*

"About Last Night."

Kevin grumbles as the sun seeps into the room, turning on his side to avoid the blinding light when he notices Sami isn't laying beside him. Did he leave without saying goodbye? No, Sami wouldn't do that. Would he? The mere concept making his heart sink as he pries himself out of bed to use the bathroom, wearing only a pair of boxers.

Upon entering the bathroom, he's met with a titillating sight: Sami, fresh out of the shower, with a towel hugging his hips. "I'm sorry, I..." Kevin trails off, losing his train of thought as he excuses himself from the room, images of their steamy encounter flooding his brain.

Sami emerges from the bathroom moments later still wearing a towel, his face flushed. An awkward silence befalls them, so quiet you can hear a pin drop. "Are we going to talk about last night or pretend it never happened?" Sami asks nervously, butterflies in his stomach.

Kevin can feel his stomach churn as the question escapes Sami's lips. He remembers last night vividly. Every kiss, every touch, permanently etched in his memory. "What's there to talk about?" Kevin counters, maintaining his composure despite his insides shaking. "We had sex."

Sami shakes his head in response, his emotions beginning to stir. "That wasn't "just sex," Kev." He retorts, his voice wavering slightly. "I felt something last night, something I never felt with anyone." Sami confesses softly, his heart beating fast. "I know you felt it too."

He did feel it. He'll never forget the look Sami gave him when he was thrusting inside him. So pure, so full of love as he made sweet, passionate love to him. Their bodies moving perfectly in sync. "You're making too big a deal of this Sami, it was just sex." Kevin replies, averting his gaze, knowing Sami could see right through his façade.

Sami knows Kevin and knows when he's lying. "Kevin, look at me." He coaxes, tilting his chin forcing him to make eye contact. "It's okay to be scared, I'm scared too but I can't keep fighting my feelings for you."

Sami has him backed into a corner, there is no escape. On the verge of surrender, the wall he built around his heart starting to crumble as he slaps Sami's hand away in desperation. "I'm not scared, Sami."

"You are scared Kevin, you're terrified!" Sami interjects, growing weary of his stubbornness. "Look at you, you're shaking." He adds, touching Kevin's arm. "Kev, it's okay." Sami soothes, skimming over Kevin's skin with his fingertips. "You're my best friend, you can tell me anything."

By now Kevin's emotions are spiraling out of control. He wanted, no, needed to tell Sami but, unfortunately, expressing his feelings isn't Kevin's forte so he settles on pulling Sami into his arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Finding solace in his warm embrace.

A soft smile adorns Sami's face as he gladly returns the hug, holding him close with no intention of letting go. "I'm here, Kev." He whispers softly, caressing the small of Kevin's back. "And I always will be."

A sense of comfort washes over Kevin as he clings to Sami tightly. Between Sami gently stroking his back and their bare chests pressed flush together, he's beginning to feel a little too relaxed.

Sami's arms are like a second home to Kevin and when he's holding him all of his problems melt away. "Looks like someone's feeling better." Sami quips, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as his gaze drifts from the bulge jutting from Kevin's boxers to back on Kevin.

And just like that, Kevin's struck with another wave of emotion. The way Sami's looking at him gives him butterflies and the longer Kevin stares into his warm honey eyes, the braver he becomes. "Sami, I-"

"I know Kev, you don't have to say it." Sami soothes, reaching down to cup Kevin's cheek. "I can see it in your eyes."

Kevin leans into Sami's touch, sending shivers up his spine. "I want to say it." Kevin insists, releasing the breath he didn't realize he's holding. "Sami..." Kevin's voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "I'm in love with you." His heart pounding as the confession slips past his lips, tears brimming his eyes. A sense of fear and excitement washing over him.

Hearing Kevin whisper those five little words fills Sami's heart with joy. His own eyes welling with tears when he notices Kevin's, beaming with pride that he has finally built up the courage to tell him how he feels. "I'm so in love with you." Sami whispers back, his voice trembling as their lips connect in a tender kiss, excited for what the future holds.

Tagging: @loki69zowens, @wrestlingdespairings, @eleanor24, @go-beatrizaf-blog and @wrestlingprincess80. My sincerest apologies if you wanted to be tagged, Tumblr still isn't tagging properly! 🙄 Regardless, thank you for reading and my requests are open! 😊💖

[trippygalaxy]

howdy howdy!! i’m flatbread anon! just started reading through your work and i love it so i was wondering if i could get legend being whipped? like i mean downright worse than mashed potatoes on thanksgiving. i love him sm <3

i hope you’re having an amazing day!!

-🫓

YES FLAT BREAD ANON, YOU ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! Warning: light talk of monster guts/gore (REQUESTS ARE STILL CLOSED AS OF 05-30)

Legend

How on the goddesses green earth was this fair? How could you be so damned...prefect! It baffled --and annoyed-- Legend to no end. Sat by his lonesome, Legend watches you from across the makeshift camp site as you help the sailor pick monster guts from his, and your own hair.

The veteran can't help the huff that escapes his chest. How can your beauty shine even through the thick layers of sickening flesh of monster meat? How is that even possible?! Was it some sort of magical item, or perhaps some curse of beauty? You frustrated the man to no end and yet, your company is nothing less than a blessing.

A blessing...Yes, he was sure of that. Maybe, just maybe, the goddesses were taking pity on him for once and sent you as a gift. That seems like the only logical reason for how you fit so perfectly with him. Legend mind wanders for a moment, admiring ever part of you. Not only were you as charming as royalty but you were as stubborn as a mull! You challenged him quite often, yet not once where any of your words or actions fueled by ill intent.

You shushed him on a number of occasions, most notably when he was attempting to brush off your --and the groups-- concern when he was injured. Normally, a few quick witted words would have stopped his blabbering but in that moment nothing wavered his persistence. So with dwindling patience, you cupped the hoarders face and brought him close. The gesture itself rendered him speechless, he also didn't quite catch your whispered concerns as he was much more focused on you tender touch. The softness of your skin was a welcoming comfort he'd never forget.

He was positive that if he had inched a hair closer, he could of kissed you. A part of him wished he had. The thought of your tender lips meeting his --a kiss of passion and love-- send a blazing blush to his cheeks. Bringing a hand to his face, it drags down until it rests covering his mouth. This wasn't a bit fair, he decided, not fair at all.

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 39 Doomish Hope Posting

Hi internet void. I've got bachi on the brain again.

Chapter 39 is the "if they aren't soulmates I'll eat every hat I own" moment of the series. Also seems like the "Hakuri will be shelved once the mission is done" chapter, which is a fucking shame. But I will remain calm(ish) and wait for Hokazono-sensei to finish cooking. So we start off with some really nice foreshadowing coupled with a little continuity update. Mr. Inazuma found his way to Char and Hinao and sees some of the folks from the storehouse get dropped off at the entrance, but his sister isn't among them. Hmm. Then, we switch back to the fight and see our precious Hakuri struggling. He's got a free-flowing nosebleed and a splitting headache trying to keep up with his dad's manipulation of the subspace. And hey look, some more foreshadowing. (Hint: Kyoura isn't talking to Chihiro full time here.)

Yet once again Kyoura underestimates his son...

… while Chihiro's faith never wavers. Once more, despite nothing being said between them, they fight in perfect harmony.

Aaaaah. THESE GUYS. They've known each other for weeks at most and they're already doing this mad OP shit? Hakuri awakened to his storehouse powers less than an hour ago and he's already copying his dad's techniques to match Chihiro's fighting style? Chihiro fucking yeeted Enten at Kyoura without a word and Hakuri instantly understood that he needed to teleport him to the other side to catch it, then create a hologram for a fake-out so Chihiro could land the blow? Are you KIDDING ME? Our color-coded protagonist/foil pair are acting as one already? Hokazono-sensei's gotta slow down or we won't have anything left to explore with them.

Maybe that's the intention, though.

The little flashback where young Hakuri tells his father that "I'm gonna become a leader who surpasses you!" is a huge moment in the chapter for two reasons. First, the emotional catharsis that I'll rant about later. Second, the next potential bit of foreshadowing. When Hakuri initially met Chihiro, his stated goal was to end the Rakuzaichi, which we took him at his word for. He didn't know he was actually the second coming of Sazanami Jesus and neither did we. But that single panel recontextualized everything. If Hakuri hadn't been deemed worthless and disowned, the Toukuri AU could have been pretty close to canon. He's actually a very ambitious guy- no wonder he was so dogged about getting Chihiro to help him! Obviously, his goal shifted from "become a better leader than my father" to "burn it all down" at some point during the time where he was abused. But what if he never fully let go of that dream?

We see that the Sazanami family is huge and powerful enough that even the government treads lightly around them. So it's not a stretch to think that Sazanamis will be able to continue on even without Kyoura as long as they have a capable leader. Someone perhaps a bit more reform-minded to keep the government off their back while they adjust to a new way of doing things. A guy who's too stubborn to quit and powerful enough to quell the critics; a legitimate heir who invokes the legend of their progenitor's genius, perhaps. Someone who has a deeply personal stake in erasing the legacy they were all groomed to protect. So yeah, Hakuri could very easily get wrapped up in his family's business while Chihiro moves on. Not to say he would never be relevant again- the storehouse ability alone practically guarantees he's sticking around in some capacity (gotta have a safe place to keep those WMDs and all). But I'm steeling myself for seeing a lot less of this lethal cinnamon roll in a few chapters.

Ideally for me at least, Hakuri and Chihiro end the Rakuzaichi and let the government step in to take care of the aftermath. Hakuri, being disowned and having completed his revenge, decides to stay with Chihiro to help him on his own journey. And wouldn't it just be so sweet if much later on Chihiro adopts him into his family register so Hakuri has a last name he can be proud of? But the very real chance of Hakuri being sidelined is preventing me from full investment right now. It all depends on the themes Hokazono-sensei is intending to impart with this arc.

The theme of reforming your family's violent legacy is obviously deeply resonant with Chihiro's current mission. The two of them have basically speedran the development from strangers to soulmates so that this could happen. I just don't understand why we'd do all of this relationship upgrading in a single arc if Hakuri was meant to stick around and grow with Chihiro y'know? What could possibly be left open for them after this? Wouldn't it be too OP to keep them together when they're already silently dancing through battles in perfect sync? They've already reached peak combat effectiveness or close to it. And though Hakuri's family issues are very likely to still be an albatross around his neck, those are for him to tackle now that he's found his strength; Chihiro's got other things to focus on. Leaving the arc with Hakuri posed to reform the Sazanamis would be a worthy culmination of his story. At this point he's practically used goods (narratively speaking)! Chihiro learned a lesson and made a friend. Time for something new… maybe checking in on the Kamunabi? A little downtime before finding the next sword? Either way, Hakuri doesn't need to be there when he could be rehabilitating his family's image and purpose. Unless…

He's used to explore the theme of healing from tragedy as the heroine.

Yes I'm spouting my bullshit again and yes I'm very fucking serious about this. My clown suit is freshly dry-cleaned and neatly laid out because I could easily be wrong but I think (hope) I'm not. Mostly because it seems like Hokazono-sensei wants to keep showing us glimpses of Chihiro's true feelings under his hardened persona. Very smart thing to do in order to get readers invested beyond his badass action stunts and tragic backstory. But we need someone to bounce off of him and be a direct contrast or else we're stuck with lonely ol' :| Chihiro all the time. (I love the deadpan gags but they won't stay fresh forever if that's the only joke to make with him.) We need a real companion for him that's on his level. Chihiro's so far skewed into expressionless determinator outside of battle that he desperately needs a polar opposite to help mellow him out. I raved like a lunatic about it already so I won't retread all that… but if Hakuri isn't a color-coded foil to balance out Chihiro's extreme personality then fuck me for thinking I'm somewhat media literate, I guess. We need Hakuri for levity and being able to relate to Chihiro. Poor guy desperately needs a friend to help pull him out of his own head. If Char is there for protection, and Shiba to guide him, Hakuri should be there for him to grow with in an emotional sense. Someone he can start opening up to in quiet moments.

The memers got it badly wrong assuming that Chihiro was a one-dimensional revenge bot- he's actually a sensitive guy carrying a lot of pain he can't express. Not to Char (small child), not to Shiba, Azami, or Hinao (adults he's emotionally closed off from). It's gotta be a peer like Hakuri who will eventually be able to sit by his side and help him. We've seen the magic of Hakuri's presence already- Chihiro admitting he was fearful of Shinuchi being misused in the elevator scene, helping him overcome his doubts about using Enten, and later helping him let Enten go. Yuge stuff for guys that just met each other, don't you think? Then it was followed by all that soulmate-coded stuff in the raid… It would be awful for Chihiro to lose the friend he can confide in. So if the story pulls them apart my heart will break a little bit, yeah. There's so much more Hakuri can do just by being there for Chihiro in a way no one else can right now. Chihiro needs his heroine to be vulnerable with, so let it be the guy who's already done the heavy lifting! Hakuri's a sturdy guy, after all- I'm sure he can handle being comic relief and emotional support.

Alright. HakuHiro delusions aside, I'm also going absolutely apeshit over the parallels being drawn here during the chapter. Feral. Certifiably insane. Cannot stop myself from jizzing all over the goddamn place. If Hokazono-sensei can keep this quality storytelling through Kagurabachi's entire run it'll be a fucking masterpiece.

I mentioned at the start that Mr. Inazuma's sister was used to foreshadow that the fight between Kyoura and team HakuHiro wouldn't end decisively this chapter. Her situation won't be resolved until the Rakuzaichi is completely over with, so that catharsis will have to wait. What we did get is absolutely stellar though. Kyoura definitely got the ultimate comeuppance for constantly underestimating Hakuri, too. The dialogue and inner thoughts leading up to this were a work of art- the reveal of Hakuri promising to overtake his dad as a kid and finally doing just that after being deemed worthless is mega satisfying (and another sign his arc is complete, but I choose to live in delulu land). However, it was the Daddy Issues theme that really stole the show for me this chapter.

Chihiro's conversation with Kyoura really drives home the irreconcilable differences they have on what it means to be a father, or even a family in the first place:

The Sazanamis are just a "clan" to Kyoura. A group of people dedicated to hosting the Rakuzaichi before anything else. Blood ties are only worthwhile for passing down Isou and the storehouse ability; there's no love lost between any member. And Chihiro most definitely does not agree with that mentality. We're constantly reminded of his rebuke about Kyoura's "best" being belief in Hakuri for a reason...

... because he is the antithesis of everything Chihiro believes a father should be. Chihiro's got some personal beef with this guy beyond reclaiming Shinuchi after seeing how he treats his kids. (This guy gets attached to people and starts killing for them right away if they've got dead or abusive parents… we love to see that empathy being manifested as murderous intent.)

This sequence killed me though:

Kyoura is paying the ultimate price for not loving his kids like a real father should. He's fucking toast because he stopped believing in Hakuri. Chihiro's outlook is validated in this victory, as is Hakuri's entire existence. Obviously there's a lot more still going on with the auction itself but it's almost mission accomplished and emotional catharsis achieved for Hakuri. Then we see the biggest message of this arc so far when Kyoura hides himself in the floor to keep the auction going at all costs… fanatical devotion at the expense of love leads to a Bad End. It's sad to see this guy put his whole being into selling a sword, man. He's dying and his only thought is to finish the auction. Not to seek help from his kids or even check on them, not to spare some dying words for Hakuri or the Tou or anyone else. He doesn't even question the life he lived that led to this point like you'd seen in other manga- Kyoura isn't shaken one bit by his untimely demise. He only cares about giving the highest bidder their merchandise.

That's the lesson here for Chihiro. He's hellbent on revenge right now- gather the swords, fuck up the Hishaku clan that killed his father. But losing himself in it will leave him no better off than Kyoura; even if he succeeds, he'll die alone in the end. His devotion to revenge is as strong as Kyoura's is to hold the auction. Both are rooted in their family's ideals and upbringing as well. Chihiro's saving grace is that he was raised with love and knows how to care. Forgetting all that, or giving that up to see his plans through will be a bad sign for his development. The people close to him will have to keep him centered or else he'll see the same terrible end (as much as it's possible; he's a very sad and broken boy). And we the reader will expect someone to be there to remind him of his humanity if he starts to show shades of this in future arcs. This very chapter, Hakuri had to encourage Chihiro to kill his dad even after he'd already asked him to do it- Chihiro's a kind guy even when he's in a fight to the death. This is precious. He can't lose this quality- we should be very alert for anything that hints at him starting to do so, because that will be the start of a very, very rough arc for him.

What about Hakuri? Well, he's been thoroughly vindicated ever since he awakened to his abilities; this whole raid has been his self-redemption arc. His character will probably be pretty complete once this is done, though there are lots of avenues to explore with him if Hokazono-sensei hears our pleas and keeps him around. He could have lingering trauma that needs to be healed- killing his dad won't help him escape his own demons after all. He's got a learning curve ahead to master his newfound abilities too. And perhaps even after finding his strength, he's still too hard on himself and needs someone to keep pushing him forward. Maybe once his life's mission is done he'll struggle with some dark emotions and need someone to help pull him out. There are plenty of little things to delve into with him to help us gain more insight into Chihiro! Please I'm so desperate to keep him around Hokazono-sensei for the love of god don't separate these boys. They're perfect supports for each other and as we all know, boys who suffer together should find solace together. If Azami/Shiba and Hiyuki/Tafuku can be foil pairs so can Hakuri/Chihiro! (Fuck me, I'm too invested already…)

Anyway. Kagurabachi continues to be peak fiction and I can't wait for what we'll see next week. If Hakuri becomes a permanent crew member I will glady put the clown suit away and start huffing copium that we'll see enough success to get an anime adaptation. I might even start writing fan fiction again (horror). If not, well... he'll still be dear to my heart. Peace out Bachibros who read this nonsense and stay tenoí.

[ariel26c]

Hey…I’ve been having some trouble, I’ve become frustrated with these issues and I need some help.

My first problem is robotic affirming, I’ve robotic affirmed all day every day for at least a month now, I’ve played subliminals and affirmation tapes consistently for hours a day for at least a month now, and I see everyone say “just affirm and persist” well let me tell you I’ve been doing that, every single time I wavered I brought myself back and flipped thoughts. I even felt calm and told myself that I’m gonna wake up in the void and it still hasn’t happened, I know I sound pathetic and I’ve manifested things so easily in seconds or minutes or even days just by saying affirmations a couple times and visualizing and living in the end but I do it with the void and nothing comes, I’m not the type of person to have negative thoughts, I don’t really ever doubt what I’m manifest won’t come even now as I’m typing this I’m not doubting that I’m going to wake up in the void but I’m just so frustrated, I’ve lived in the end for weeks and nothing so I don’t know what to do. It went to the point I was saying my affirmation so much that i would just automatically start saying it in my head with even intentioning to but still nothing, I don’t even think I’ve just been there just not aware I just don’t know anymore.

The second thing is subliminals, I’ve listened to so many void subliminals and I think I started listening to the ones I listen to every day at least a month ago as I said, but there’s subliminals I’ve just added because I wanted that thing like a early package subliminals and that came so quick but not the void ones, I added a beauty subliminal and a hair subliminal and I’ve gotten results from both but none of the void ones. I used void subs and affirmation tapes over night and still nothing, I’ve been being positive and pushing away negative thoughts by not giving them the time of day or flipping them but still nothing, I’m so tired of nothing, I’m so tired of manifesting other stuff in minutes and then doing the exact same thing for the void and it doesn’t work, this is so tiring.

The third thing is hypnosis and my neck, so I had begun to listen to this hypothesis for a sleep trigger being put in my mind, the first two times I tried it I liked it and it worked well I didn’t know if the sleep trigger thing was working but I was relaxed when listening to the video so I decided that if reprogram my mind along with it so I go to do it today, and I’ve always had a problem with my neck, it’s like whenever i lay on my back to do meditations or what ever it will start feeling weird, it’s like the feeling of there’s something around it and the first two times I’d didn’t feel it much but what made me break down today was that it was overwhelmingly clear and I just couldn’t continue the hypnosis, so I don’t know what to do because when I tried it on my side I didn’t feel the affect nearly as much as on my back. So I don’t know what to do.

My final things are that I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel lost now because I keep getting angel numbers like 444, 888, 999, 222, 333, 777, and 111 but I don’t know what to do. I’m feeling lost and need help, is there any advice you have for me?

Here’s the thing, you’re too focused on how long it’s taking to enter the void. Time isn’t important and it will never matter because in the end it is yours. You will enter the void no matter what and if you know that, then you wouldn’t be so focused on how long it’s been. You are doing good so keep going but if it’s the approach that’s making you feel frustrated since you’re doing so much then try something different.

You don’t need to do so many different things. Affirming is enough but if you want to do more like listening to subliminals then do that. You need to be stubborn and stop caring about how long it’s been. Focusing on time will only continue to create frustration and stress. You may saturate your mind with affirmations but what does it matter if you focus on time? It’s gonna feel like an eternal cycle.

You can listen to as many subliminal audios as you want and they are always going to work because they help reprogram your mind the more you listen to them. Reprogramming your mind isn’t necessary but it can help. Even if you don’t feel any changes doesn’t mean that change isn’t there. There is change and just because you haven’t entered the void doesn’t mean that everything is still the same. If you been persisting and affirming then the change is there, I promise.

Manifesting things is on the same level as entering the void. Entering the void isn’t more difficult than simply manifesting. Matter of a fact you don’t need the void to manifest, it’s completely optional. The void is literally you. You are the void. It’s not separate from you and it’s not a physical place you have to travel to.

Take it easy and please take a break if you need to. Prioritize your wellbeing.

Seeing those synchronicity’s is not a coincidence. Although you don’t need to see signs. Even if you didn’t see a single angel number you would still enter the void. Entering the void is inevitable if you’ve been persisting.

As for hypnosis I don’t really listen to hypnosis but I can tell you that you don’t need to do them if you don’t want to. If listening to them makes things feel stressed then don’t do them. Do what makes you feel comfortable and don’t force yourself to do things that cause frustration.

So take a break if you need to and if you feel frustrated from doing certain things do something different. Try doing less.

Let me know if you have more questions 💕